Michael Swanwick's Blog, page 114

A Simple Solution to the Bathroom Wars

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On my first visit to Russia, a fan took me aside and, lowering his voice, said, "Tell me. Is it true that your Samuel R. Delany is... of a different persuasion?"

"Queer as can be!" I said cheerfully. "He's written entire books about how gay he is."

And my friend nodded in a way that indicated he was taking my theory about Chip's sexuality into consideration.

Russia is anything but enlightened on the LGBT front. So you can imagine how surprised I was last month to discover a simple way of evading the current, entirely-unnecessary debate over which bathroom transgendered people should use.

I was in a convention center in Moscow when I felt the call of nature. So I followed the signs and found myself suddenly standing before a large open space with free-standing sinks at which women were washing their hands. Beyond them was a wall of doors with behind each door a toilet.

You don't often find yourself in an unfamiliar category of public space. So I stood a distance back from the arrangement, watching while several men hurried past and into the little rooms. Then, when I was clear on the rules -- that all the rooms were available to people of all genders -- I did my business.

Unisex bathrooms. This was the dire, society-destroying threat that sank the Equal Rights Amendment decades ago. And yet, they're nothing new. I grew up in a house that had one. You probably did too.


Above: The men's room door at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Philadelphia. Another pretty simple solution.

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Give In To Your Better Impulses

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To be a science fiction writer is to leave your mind open to vagrant thoughts and impulses -- some good, some bad. Mostly, I manage not to give in to my bad impulses, thought some of them are damnably clever, and this has worked out well for me. As witness the fact that I am not one of the most hated men in science fiction.
But sometimes I resisted good impulses, usually through cheapness or laziness.
Back in the 1980s, it was very common for button-makers to set up business in convention huckster rooms with buttons bearing slogans like FRODO LIVES! or IN SPACE NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU FART. But they would also make buttons on the spot featuring slogans that had just occurred to you.

I was at a Worldcon and had just been talking with James Patrick Kelly and John Kessel when I saw such a vender and had a sudden impulse to buy eight or nine buttons reading GRAND MASTER OF THE FUTURE to hand out to my pals, all new and largely ignored writers. Jim and John would have gotten one, as would Bruce Sterling and Nancy Kress. Plus a few others.
One of whom would definitely have been Connie Willis.
The day it was announced that Connie was receiving the Grand Master Award, I regretted my laziness and cheapness in no having those buttons made. It would have been a hoot to have a photo of Connie with the button. And I could have sent her a new button (presuming I could find someone to make it) reading GRAND MASTER OF THE PRESENT to replace the one she almost certainly would have lost or thrown away decades before.
Ah, well. I missed my chance. But don't you make the same mistake I did. Always give in to your better impulses.

Above: Connie Willis, Grand Master of the Future, Present, and Past. I'm pretty sure you're given time-traveling powers along with the award.
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A Luncheon in Memison

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There was a memorial for the late David Hartwell in New York City on Monday, the third such I've attended, and there will be more. David was an important figure in the field. Afterward, six of us went out to lunch together. We had a pleasant time, enjoyed it greatly, and many interesting things were said. However, I didn't take notes, so the following fictionalized account will have to do instead.


A Luncheon in Memison
"Who wants what?" Gordon asked. As the god of industry and organization, it was his job to impose some semblance of order on the luncheon.

"I want a reign of blood and death," Marianne replied.

"That's what you always ask for," Ellen said. "Just once try the salad." She was the goddess responsible for organic foods, natural fibers and the like. There were times when she envied the hell out of Marianne, but there it was. What could you do?

"Six martinis and a bicycle horn," said Michael. He was the trickster of the group.

"Make that one martini and the mushroom risotto," Gordon told the waitress."David?"

"Croque Monsieur," David said. Nobody knew what he was the god of, but it seemed to have something to do with wine and foods with foreign names.

When the food arrived, they ate, as gods do, avidly and with great satisfaction.

"You were in China last year, weren't you, Marianne?" Ellen asked. "How was it?"

"People died in great numbers," Marianne said. "Also, the food was delicious."



Above (l-r): Gordon Van Gelder, Marianne Porter, Michael Swanwick, Ellen Kushner, David Axler. Photo by Delia Sherman. Delia would have been in this story if she'd been in the photo. But there it is. What can you do?

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"I Liked It Better When We Were Going to Each Other's Weddings"

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Brief post today, because I'm off to New York City for David Hartwell's memorial. It's the third one I've attended, but in ways the most apt because it's being held by Tor Books, the publishing house he worked at most recently and for many years.

Years ago, Ansible reported on the funeral of a British editor, and quoted Christopher Priest as saying, "I liked it better when we were going to each other's weddings."

So, yeah. Like that.


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New From Dragonstairs -- Five Seasons!

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Not long ago, Marianne published her smallest edition ever -- an art book titled Fallen Leaves , which was issued in an edition of twenty, of which seventeen were offered up for sale. The costs of producing it being what they were, it was Dragonstairs Press's priciest (though still, her advisors argued, underpriced) book to date. And it sold out in less than twenty hours.

Those who know Marianne can predict where this is going.

 As atonement for making a book which some could not afford and hardly any had the opportunity to buy, Marianne has created a new chapbook titled Five Seasons , containing five related flash fictions, all written by me. Signed and numbered in an edition of one hundred, hand-sewn with appropriately crimson thread, it sells for only five dollars, plus one dollar for shipping in the US or two dollars elsewhere in the world.

Or, for free, you can read the first section here.  It's titled...


Winterthaw

I crave thy pardon, mistress, that I did try to eat thee.  It were the Darkwinter, when we all do what we must to survive.  I understand why thou dost flinch from my touch.
      Still.  Didst thou not kill thy sister, who did love thee, when the foodstuffs ran low?  Not that I disapprove.  It were the right thing to do, God wot.  Hunger knows no morals.  I did the same with my father, poor soul.
      Those dire times are behind us.  The snows are melting at last.  We can scrabble in the mud for last year’s roots, and perhaps a small rodent or three.  We keep our knives sharp and close to hand, of course, because we each know what the other is capable of.
      Now the ice turns back into pond water.  The air is warm.  Desperation falls a day, a second day, a third into the past.  Now at last – though I grip my blade as firmly as thou dost thine – I am free to say . . .
      I do love thee.

Which, okay, yes, is a little grimmer and more cynical than I usually go. But you should see the other four! 
Those who wish to buy a copy of the chapbook can find the Dragonstairs Press website here.

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Talking About Darger & Surplus

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The industrious Carl Slaughter has interviewed me about my Darger & Surplus books and stories, and published the results in the current SF Signal. Which leads me to reflect on the nature of fictional confidence artists. Why are they so much more charming than the real thing?

I know whereof I speak here, because two con men once tried to take me with a cunning variation on the classic Pigeon Drop. It involved a hapless-looking man with a strong African accent stopping me on the street to ask for directions, a second man stopping to help, the promise of a large cash reward for my help accompanied by a quick flash of the first man's wad of greenbacks, and the determination that I should show the African how to use an ATM machine. If I had thought for a minute that I would take money away from the poor schlub, I might not have put the pieces together to realize it was a scam in time to walk away untaken.

I did not find those guys charming at all. Particularly since they were relying on my being not only gullible but at least a little racist as well.

But in our imaginations, we are free to fantasize being unfettered by morality and able to trick and outwit ordinary members of the herd. We imagine ourselves as the carefree predators and mere humans as our prey.

Which is, ironically enough, the most common trick in the con man's book: He offers you the chance to swindle somebody else. The roper presented himself as being a gullible fool, pathetically eager to throw his money away. And the inside man gently urged me to join him in fleecing him.

As I said, in real life not very charming.

Ah, but in our dreams...

You can find the interview here.




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News From Lake Tachyon

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The mighty publicity juggernaut of San Francisco megapress Tachyon Publications has just posted their latest set of "Tachyon Tidbits." Which is to say, bits and pieces of news that apply to their books.

This is relevant because "Not So Much," Said the Cat, my forthcoming Tachyon collection, has just received its first review.

I am, I begin to realize, old, old, old. So old that I find myself out of step with the times. In my day (the late Victorian era, my dears), a proper author did not engage in self-promotion. That was called "careerism." Today, it's called "being responsible." Nor did one solicit one's friends to promote one's books with the implicit promise to return the favor when their own came out. That was called "log-rolling." Today, it's called 'signal boost."

So I find myself feeling quite faint at the thought of repeating the nice things the reviewer had to say about my book. Instead, I'll quote a little said about  each of the other Tachyon books mentioned in the post.


Of Patricia A. McKillip's forthcoming collection, Dreams of Distant Shores , a reviewer said:

I have never in all my reading days, as far as I know read anything by McKillip. How I have overlooked such a powerful storyteller I have no idea.

Meanwhile, the Hollywood Reporter presents a news item about Daryl Gregory's novel Spoonbenders :

SPOONBENDERS, a hot manuscript about an eccentric family of magicians (think Royal Tenenbaums with psychics) by Daryl Gregory, has been acquired by Knopf for publishing and Paramount TV for television, in what sources say was a competitive auction on both fronts that involved multiple bidders. Terms of the deal were not announced, but the publishing-side advance is said to be at least in the high-six-figure range.

And another reviewer says of Cory Doctorow's nonfiction book (taking a deep breath here)   Content: Selected Essays on Technology, Creativity, Copyright, and the Future of the Future.

 Ultimately, though, Doctorow’s essays in this collection, are still important for the ongoing discussion of freedom, personal rights, and access to information and the openness of the internet. Even though he lacks the specific factual and statistical research in most of his essays needed to drive his message fully home, I recommend everyone read these essays and to keep an open mind, because they are the start to addressing how we travel a very long road ahead toward a digital world, and I appreciated his work very much.

Plus, as I said, there was a review I am too old-fashioned to quote of my own book.

I hasten to point out that none of the people above blurbed my collection. Nor have I blurbed their books. Clearly, I belong in another century.

You can read the full posting here.

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Liberty Gin (First Tastings)

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So how far do you have to go to reach your local distillery? Here at the American Martini Laboratory, it's a stroll of less than a mile to the W. P. Palmer Distilling Co. on Shurs Lane.

This is a new distillery and still a small one. They make Liberty Gin and Manayunk Moonshine. The latter is available only the distillery and since the whole legal moonshine phenomenon is a baffling example of the willingness of Americans to buy and drink practically anything, the AML gave it a pass.

Gin is another matter. Marianne and I bought a bottle and have begun testing it. The Palmer Distillery people advertise it as being "a wonderful Martini, a classic Gin & Tonic and a delicious Gimlet." No gin can be all things to all drinks, of course, so this claim must be taken as a perfectly understandable bit of corporate puffery.

Gimlets and gin and tonics are warm-weather drinks and it's been cool here in Roxborough for the past week, so we haven't tested either of those. But we did mix a martini and a pitcher of aviations.

And the results are...

Liberty Gin is seasoned with juniper, coriander, angelica, cardamom, and grains of paradise. As a result it has a strongly floral taste that does not particularly suit the steely grandeur that is the American Martini.

However, the aviations were exceptional. The aviation is a lighter, more festive cocktail and one that is well suited to a floral gin.

So we are well content with our neighborhood distillery and look forward to further tests when the weather turns warmer.

You can find their website here.


And since you asked...

Here's the standard recipe for the Aviation. Which has the pleasant distinction of being that rarest of beasts, the cocktail that is as blue as the sky.

Mix, shake, strain, and drink. It is optional whether or not to garnish it with a Maraschino Cherry. If all you have are those awful candied things that come in a jar, I wouldn't recommend it. But since Marianne spices her own cherries, we prefer our drinks garnished. Being careful not to muddy the color with any of the cherry's liqueur, it goes without saying.
Like most cocktails, the exact proportions of the drink should be to taste. Marianne likes to make our aviations with lime juice rather than lemon, which she feels imparts too yellow a cast to the drink's appearance.

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Naming the Five Seasons

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Marianne has decided that since her last Dragonstairs Press project was (for her) pricey and issued in an extremely limited edition of twenty, she should immediately atone by putting out out one of her underpriced chapbooks in a gargantuan edition of one hundred. So now she is hard at work on Five Seasons , which will contain five closely related flash fictions (or, possibly, one story narrated in five vignettes) that I wrote some time ago to go in a set of five connected picture frames.

Our son Sean was appalled when I told him that the seasons are not a natural phenomenon but an artificially-created social construct. But it's true. You could as easily have two -- Burgeoning and Withering. Or three -- Growth, Decline, and Fallow.

One of the pleasures of being a writer is getting to name things that otherwise would go without. Dividing the year into five wasn't easy, but it was fun. The names I coined were lush and ornamental, in part because I was writing a fantasy and in part because the stories were rather darker than my usual stuff and needed at least that small taste of romance.

They were:

Winterthaw
Greengrowth
Summerdeep
Autumnbright
Darkwinter

You'll note that the names give you a sense of which of our seasons they were carved from. I was rather pleased with that.


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The Coolest Book You Didn't Have the Opportunity to Buy This Week

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As you may know, Marianne Porter is not only my wife but also the founder, owner, and sole employee of Dragonstairs Press. She creates chapbooks, usually but not always with content provided by me, and sells them at what I'm pretty sure is a fraction of their true value.

Marianne refers to Dragonstairs as a "nanopress" and describes her business as following the "Beanie Baby model." Her creations are priced low enough that they can be bought on impulse. Not coincidentally, most of her books sold out long ago.

On Friday, Marianne put her latest work, Fallen Leaves , up on her website. Here's how she described the original project:

The Fallen Leaves Project was carried out during October, 2015, in multiple locations around Philadelphia, including Laurel Hill Cemetery, West Laurel Hill Cemetery, Morris Arboretum, and Gorgas Park.
 Michael Swanwick composed “epitaphs”, and wrote them on fallen leaves. The leaves were photographed by Marianne Porter and Michael Swanwick within a few feet of where they were found and left where they were, to be discovered by passersby. Or not. The photographs were posted daily throughout October on Twitter, Facebook, and Swanwick's blog. In total, ninety-four images were created.

And here's how she described the ensuing book:

Fallen Leaves is a set of albums made of hand-crafted mulberry paper, manufactured by Karin tribe members, with a selection of leaf photographs pasted in. Archival glue was used throughout. Each album contains fifteen images and no two albums contain the same set of images. Fallen Leaves is limited to an edition of twenty albums, of which seventeen are available for purchase. Green or brown bindings are chosen randomly.

At the same time as she put the book up on her site, Marianne sent an email to her regular customers, as a courtesy, informing them of its existence.

Less than twenty hours later, the book had sold out.

Sean and I told her she wasn't charging enough.

You can find the Dragonstairs website here.  Marianne is currently working on several more projects. An announcement is expected not too many weeks from now.


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