Michael Swanwick's Blog, page 16

The Annotated STATIONS OF THE TIDE (Part 1)

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Tor Books has reissued what may be my most popular ever novel (unless it's The Iron Dragon's Daughter)--which is Stations of the Tide as part of their Tor Essentials line. To celebrate and, let's be honest, ruthlessly promote this event, I am now beginning a necessarily incomplete annotation of the novel. I'll be serializing it for as long as it seems to be helping sales. And then I'll stop, long before completion.

So if you want more, you should rush right out and buy my book. Not because I need the money. But because you crave the annotations.

And here they are:

A Brief and (Alas) Simplistic Annotation of Stations of the Tide  Which Includes Information Only the Author Could Provide But Necessarily Omits Far More Than It Includes:

Page 1:

Thebureaucrat: WhenI determined to write this book but had not written a word of it, I asked Marianne Porter, my wife,what she would like me to include in it. She said, “A bureaucratwho is competent and doing a necessary job.” It is no coincidencethat she fit that description. Everything else in the novel followedafter.

PortRichmond: Stations ofthe Tide takesplace in what is primarily the Virginia Tidewater with touches of theNortheast Kingdom of Vermont. The fact that the city is named PortRichmond indicates that Miranda was colonized when the Tidewater wassubmerged.

heliostat:Ahybrid airship/helicopter aircraft.

Page 2:

technology control: Ionce worked in technology Transfer for the Franklin InstituteResearch Laboratories. Our job was to encourage people to integratesolar energy into their homes. Technology control is many steps beyondthat, into coercion.

Page 3:

theStone House: Aneasy analogue for the White House.

Requestfor Authority: Again,an easy analogue for RFPs—Requests for Proposals. This was the USgovernment offering a grant for a very specific project. I worked inProposals for the Franklin Research Center (FRC wasfor-profit, where FIRL was nonprofit) and filed many an RFP in mytime.

Page 4:

theLeviathan: Anoblique reference toMoby-Dick,not that I expected anyone to get it.

Ocean:Thereis only one continent (never named, but we can make an educated guess) in Miranda and only one ocean. In ancienttimes, the waters beyond the Gates of Hercules were thought to be oneworld-circling sea and named Ocean. Today they are the Atlantic.

thePuzzle Palace: Thisname was originally given by its denizens to the NSA headquarters in Fort Meade, MD. It was later also applied to the Health and Welfare building in Harrisburg, PA. Marianneworked for the Bureau of Laboratories within the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania Department of Healthand dreaded being summoned to the Puzzle Palace.

Oh, and if this makes you want to buy my Nebula Award-winning novel, you should immediately contact your local independent bookstore. But if your town is so cruel as to deny you one, you can find it on Amazon here.

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The Annotated STATiONS OF THE TIDE (Part 1)

 .

Tor Books has reissued what may be my most popular ever novel (unless it's The Iron Dragon's Daughter)--which is Stations of the Tide as part of their Tor Essentials line. To celebrate and, let's be honest, ruthlessly promote this event, I am now beginning a necessarily incomplete annotation of the novel. I'll be serializing it for as long as it seems to be helping sales. And then I'll stop, long before completion.

So if you want more, you should rush right out and buy my book. Not because I need the money. But because you crave the annotations.

And here they are:

A Brief and (Alas) Simplistic Annotation of Stations of the Tide  Which Includes Information Only the Author Could Provide But Necessarily Omits Far More Than It Includes:

Page 1:

Thebureaucrat: WhenI determined to write this book but had not written a word of it, I asked Marianne Porter, my wife,what she would like me to include in it. She said, “A bureaucratwho is competent and doing a necessary job.” It is no coincidencethat she fit that description. Everything else in the novel followedafter.

PortRichmond: Stations ofthe Tide takesplace in what is primarily the Virginia Tidewater with touches of theNortheast Kingdom of Vermont. The fact that the city is named PortRichmond indicates that Miranda was colonized when the Tidewater wassubmerged.

heliostat:Ahybrid airship/helicopter aircraft.

Page 2:

technology control: Ionce worked in technology Transfer for the Franklin InstituteResearch Laboratories. Our job was to encourage people to integratesolar energy into their homes. Technology control is many steps beyondthat, into coercion.

Page 3:

theStone House: Aneasy analogue for the White House.

Requestfor Authority: Again,an easy analogue for RFPs—Requests for Proposals. This was the USgovernment offering a grant for a very specific project. I worked inProposals for the Franklin Research Center (FRC wasfor-profit, where FIRL was nonprofit) and filed many an RFP in mytime.

Page 4:

theLeviathan: Anoblique reference toMoby-Dick,not that I expected anyone to get it.

Ocean:Thereis only one continent (never named, but we can make an educated guess) in Miranda and only one ocean. In ancienttimes, the waters beyond the Gates of Hercules were thought to be oneworld-circling sea and named Ocean. Today they are the Atlantic.

thePuzzle Palace: Thisname was originally given by its denizens to the Pentagon. It alsorefers to the Health and Welfare building in Harrisburg, PA. Marianneworked for the Bureau of Laboratories within the Department of Healthand dreaded being summoned to the Puzzle Palace.

Oh, and if this makes you want to buy my Nebula Award winning novel, you should immediately contact your local independent bookstore. But if your town is so cruel as to deny you one, you can find it on Amazon here.

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The Many Worlds of Tom Purdom

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Saturday, a memorial was held for Tom Purdom, the man we know as a first-rate science fiction writer. But whom others remember as a pioneer bicycle activist, as an SF fan, as a rocketry exponent, as an early adaptor tabletop gamer, as a lover and reviewer of classical and old music, and as a local journalist.

Also as a good friend. I mean that most intently. But pretty much everybody in the back room of  Tabernacle Church in West Philadelphia (where Marianne and I were married, and where I once worked as church secretary) would be able to make that claim. Tom had a gift for friendship.

People from all those worlds, and family as well, gathered to pay homage to the man we thought would never die, simply because we couldn't imagine the world without him. Almost everybody who went up to the front of the metaphorical church to testify remarked on his unmistakable voice: loud and raspy.

The best testimony came from I-forget-who declared, "I asked Tom what he thought of cyberpunk and he said, 'I think of myself as cybergenteel.'" The second best came from me, when I observed that Tom would have loved everything about this gathering of people he cared about and family he loved but the praise of him. He hated praise when it was aimed his way. In my best imitation of his voice, I channeled him saying, "Can't we talk about something interesting?"

Representatives of all Tom Purdom's worlds praised him, expounded his virtues, mourned the loss of the man we thought would never die.

And then, still in mourning but feeling better for having spoken, we all went home.

And because you want to know . .  .

How can you honor this decent and talented man? Well, he has two books currently in print, both from Fantastic Books:

Lovers and Fighters, Starships and Dragons collects Tom's best military and romantic stories, including "Fossil Games," which was nominated for the Hugo Award in the year 2000. I consider it one of the best SF stories of the decade. If you disagree, I'll meet you out back of the bar.

Romance on Four Worlds collects novellas about Giacomo Casanova set in the far future. Tom, who read all of the original Casinova's multi-volume memoires, was struck by the fact that the Great Womanizer fell passionately in love with all of his conquests. In these stories, he imagines Casanova as heroic and romantic in equal parts.

If you know Tom's work, you have these books. If you don't, buy them now. 

You can find both Tom Purdom's books here. 

I urge you to buy them. You won't be disappointed.

And was Tom remembered, you ask, by local media . . . ?

Why, yes. You can find the Broad Street Review memorial here.

Above: Pic taken from Broad Street Review. Alaina Johns,  who was much younger than he, said he was proud to introduce her as his editor. She was at the beginning of her career and he gave her his wholehearted support, even in those rare cases when she thought his submission wasn't good enough. Thou gonnabe writers who will someday be important, learn from this and do likewise.

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Vernor Vinge Has Left The Galaxy

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This winter of discontent has claimed yet another giant of science fiction, Vernor Vinge.

I didn't really know Vinge personally... a conversation now and then, but nothing significant... but as a reader, his loss comes as a body blow. At his best, he was the very beau ideal of the science fiction writer, embodying new ideas in engaging plots.

Vinge was one of the best idea people in the field. His inventions ranged from the outrageously big (the speed of light and magnitude of possible intelligence growing larger with distance from the galactic core)  to the convincingly small (city buses being routinely equipped with sensors for early detection of emerging diseases). He'll probably be best remembered for taking John von Neumann's then-obscure idea of the singularity and making it a household word. And, to a lesser degree, for presenting the first fully convincing portray of cyberspace, years before William Gibson gave it the name cyberspace.

These are not small accomplishments. But I think he should be chiefly celebrated for his novels. For A Fire Upon the Deep, A Deepness in the Sky, Marooned in Realtime, and all the others. Just a few days ago, I came back from the International Conference on the Fantastic in the Arts with a copy of Rainbows End, which I had bought there, and gave it to my son, Sean. He was delighted.

Which is how, I think, Vinge should be remembered. With delight.

Above: I swiped this photo Vinge's author page at Macmillan Publishers, which published Vernor's books. The photographer was Gloria Price.

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Locus Fundraiser (Deep Pockets Edition)

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`

Locus Magazine is the closest thing that printed science fiction has to a center. It's not just where we get the news and reviews that matter to SF fans and writers, but where we learn about what 's happening outside the restricted circle of people we happen to know. Sort of like a Serengeti watering hole without the chance of being eaten by a lion. So it matters that it stays in business and it matters that its yearly fundraiser succeeds.

Right now, they're holding two simultaneous fundraisers. One I've already talked about because Marianne and I donated three Dragonstairs Press chapbooks to it. You can find that here.

They're also holding a week-long fundraiser for the well-heeled. The incentives being offered range from Neil Gaiman recording a personalized voicemail message for you ($450) to a fairy stone tiara ($250) created by Hugo Award and Chesley Award winning artist Sara Felix.

There are also some rather expensive items on offer as well.

If you have the money, you should take a look. If you don't, you should look anyway and daydream about what you'd get if HBO picked up that fantasy trilogy you haven't yet written.  You can find the items here. But hurry--this fundraiser ends Wednesday.

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A Midnight Symposium in Orlando

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Last night, I found myself at a table not far from the pool, talking with a batch of friends about snakes, cigars, animal control officers, fifty-thousand-dollar turtles, and such. The usual. But around midnight, people began to drift off to bed, leaving Ellen Klages, Madeleine Robbins, Walter Jon Williams, Emma Bull and me to talk about short fiction.

Oh, what a conversation that was! "With the hoofs and horns still on it," as R. A. Lafferty used to say. There was a particular emphasis on the works of Kelly Link and Howard Waldrop because even among the wild productions of genre writers, they're outliers, stories whose very existence is hard to explain. Oh, and stories of Clarions (east, west, and south) we've attended or taught, lessons learned and lessons almost impossible to make students understand...

An enchanted evening. And then, everybody reached the end simultaneously, stood up, and went back to our rooms. Leaving the hotel grounds by the lake empty, because we were the last writers standing.

And because I know that . . .

There will be gonnabe writers reading this, hoping to find a trail of breadcrumbs out of the dark forest. I'll offer them a single crouton, Howard's explanation of the distinction between a short story and a novel:

A short story is about the most important event in the protagonist's life. A novel is about the most important period in the protagonist's life.

Which, properly employed, should help you recognize what length of fiction the story you're working on wants to be.

Above, l-r: E. Klages, M. Robbins, E. Bull, W. J. Williams. Photographer, also present: M. Swanwick

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The Locus Fundraiser Soars Into The Future!

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Locus Magazine's fundraiser is a quarter-way to its goal, with 25 days to go. And there are a lot of cool perks for donors. A personalized letter to you from a fictional character. A couple of story critiques from pro writers. (These are pretty hard to come by; they're a lot of work for the writer!) A couple of tuckerizations (that's a mention of you by name, in the author's next novel; the writer Wilson Tucker was notorious for doing this to friends, hence the term) and one goaterization (you'll have to go to that perk for a definition). Plus lots of signed hardcovers--which would make excellent Christmas or birthday presents for the fanatic reader you care about most.

But probably the niftiest perk of the lot is a half-hour private Zoom coffee chat with Connie Willis. With typical generosity Ms. Willis has volunteered to take on up to eight of these, and they're not cheap. But they're worth it. Connie is extremely good company. She's as smart as a whip. She knows everything that's worth knowing about science fiction. And she's a genuinely kind human being. I can't think of a more pleasant person to share a cup of coffee or tea with.

Oh, and have I mentioned that Connie has won more Hugos and Nebulas for fiction than anyone else in history?

If you're curious, you can visit the Locus Indiegogo fundraiser here.

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Nevermore: An Interview With The Raven--On Sale Today!

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Good news! Dragonstairs Press's latest chapbook comes out today.

 

Here's the official word from Marianne Porter:

 

Nevermore: an Interview with the Raven is Michael Swanwick's historical chat with that great actor and literary hero, collaborator with Edgar Allan Poe, Charles Dickens, and so many others.  Yes, that Raven.

Nevermore was created to mark Swanwick's kaffeklatch at 2024 Boskone.  Printed in an edition of 40, of which 28 are offered for sale, at Dragonstairs.com, on Saturday March 9, 2024, at noon, eastern (Philadelphia) time.  5 ½ x 4 ¼ inches.  Hand-stitched, numbered, and signed by the author.

 

To  which I will only add that it's expected to sell out fast. 

And because I know you're curious . . .

 

Here's a brief excerpt:

Swanwick:  How did you come to meet Edgar Allan Poe?

Raven: Through the usual literary circuit. I was doing some work for Chuck Dickens, modeling for Grip, the raven in Barnaby Rudge. Ed thought my part was (and I quote) "intensely amusing." He also thought it a shame that I had been relegated to the status of a minor character. He felt that my "Croaking might have been prophetically heard in the course of the drama." Quote, unquote. Well, what actor could possibly object to a review like that?

So when Poe contacted my agent, I was all agog for the part he offered me. A title role? From the hottest, most au courant writer of the times? C'mon. Who could turn that down? Not me.

 

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Advance Copy of Father Winter!

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The Locus fundraiser on Indiegogo has moved into its third day and posted as a new perk the third and last otherwise unobtainable Dragonstairs Press chapbook contributed by Marianne and me--Father Winter.

Father Winter is the latest in a series of Solstice chapbooks sent out in the winter holiday season by Dragonstairs Press to select friends of the press. Lovingly crafted, hand sewn, signed and numbered in an edition of 120. As is traditional, last year's remaining copies (of which this is one) will be put up on sale sometime in November or December. When, because there are only 37 copies, they will sell out in the first fifteen minutes. As Will Sonnett used to say: "No brag, just fact."

Last winter's theme was fathers and sons, so it is particularly appropriate that my son, Sean William Swanwick, collaborated with me on this chapbook. In token of which, it is autographed by both of us. Just look at those signatures! One is calm and clever and the other obviously the scrawling of a Bond villain-grade monomaniac.  

If you're curious, you can find the Locus fundraiser here. You'll find a lot of cool perks on offer: autographed books, Zoom meetings, critiques, tuckerizations, a goat naming, a personalized letter from a fictional character, and much more! Take a peek. You might just find the perfect gift for your favorite book-lover.

And since I know you're curious . . .

Here's the first story in Father Winter. It's about my late father, John Francis Swanwick, and I will not apologize for the sentimentality of it.

 

Winter Wonderland

Spring belongs to mothers. It's the time of birth andbeauty and kneeling in the garden to plant seeds that will come to fruition inthe summer. Summer also belongs to mothers, for it's the time of growth andjoy, both qualities that come easier to women than to men. Autumn? Think of hotcider, bright leaves pressed in books, strolls in the woods, jars ofhome-canned preserves, knitted sweaters. Mom again.

But winter? That belongs to fathers. Black ice. Snowsqualls. Shoveling the walk, rotating the tires and putting chains on them,scraping ice off the windshield, chopping wood and bringing it indoors by thearmful if you had a fireplace.

My father was a farm boy. He belonged to 4-H and wonribbons at county fairs. It was important to him that his children couldidentify the breeds of cows the family car drove past on the highway. Butbecause he grew up at a time when radio was the wondrous technology that computerswere only a few decades ago and he was particularly bright, he became anengineer.

Still, he retained a few tricks from his boyhood.

One day, a blizzard came down from Canada, turned thesky black, and dumped foot upon  foot ofsnow on Schenectady. We children went to bed while the snow was still comingdown hard. And in the morning...

Something wonderful! In the backyard, my father hadmade a slide out of snow, curved at the center so there was no chance offalling off. On the straight-up side of it, he placed a wooden ladder. And overthe sliding surface, he had poured a bucket of water, so that it froze solidand an inch thick.

There was never a faster or more magical slide thanthat. Nobody but our father could have made it.

Nor was there a more lasting one. Okay, sure, whenthe weather turned warmer the snow melted away to nothing. But in my memoryit's still there, gleaming in the bright winter sun, as enduring as loveitself.

 

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The Last Copy of In His Own Words!

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The Locus fundraiser continues apace! As mentioned yesterday, Marianne and I contributed three otherwise unobtainable Dragonstairs Press chapbooks to the cause. The first one up, Brief Essays on Genre, went fast... as Marianne's lovingly-made, hand-stitched, signed and numbered chapbooks tend to do. So they've put up the second chapbook. 

This one is In His Own Words, a chapbook created to mark the dedication of a plaque in Gardner's honor in the Pen & Pencil Club, Philadelphia's venerable journalists club. It was a particularly apt place for the plaque not only because Gardner was a member but because he got his start as a military journalist in the U. S. Army. I assembled all the most pertinent parts from a much longer interview and Marianne made a beautiful chapbook of it. Issued in an edition of 60 and bound in hand-made paper from SriLanka, crafted from recycled elephant dung. Because Gardner would have thoughtthat was hilarious.

 You can find Locus's Indiegogo campaign, chockablock with cool incentives for giving, here.  

And if you're curious about the contents . . .

The chapbook was given out to family and journalists at the unveiling, where I gave a brief talk about Gardner Dozois's career as an award-winning military journalist. You should have seen the journalists' shocked faces when I told his helicopter story! And of course the story behind the photograph on the cover is hilarious. But this being a science fiction audience, I thought you'd be most interested in learning about Gardner's relationship with two giants of the field--John W. Campbell and Isaac Asimov.

Enjoy:  

You also met John W.Campbell, didn’t you?

 

Gardner Dozois: Very, very briefly. Only right atthe end of his life, in fact. I met him for about five minutes. It was at aLunacon in 1971. He died about two months later, in fact, so that was the onlychance I ever got to meet him. Someone with a mischievous sense of humor,probably Damon Knight, dragged me up to meet John Campbell in the huckster roomwhere he was standing.

 

You must understand two things. One, this was at theheight of the New Wave wars, which has receded so far into the past that nobodyeven remembers it anymore. But it was a hot issue of the time. And two, I wasa young hippie freak, of about a hundred and fifty pounds at that point. And Iwould have been wearing my army fatigue jacket, because I didn’t have anythingelse to wear, and probably combat boots, because I didn’t have any other shoes.And probably a pair of blue jeans, and some sort of body shirt. And I had hairliterally down past my ass. Very, very long hair, and an untrimmed beard whichsort of flopped around like a huge flag. So I looked like an Amish person goneinsane. Damon dragged me up to John Campbell, and said, “Here’s a hot newwriter, really good, I want you to meet.”

 

I stuck out of my hand, and he sort of reflexively shookmy hand while cringing back. Before I even said anything, he said, “I like theOld Wave stuff. I don’t like this New Wave stuff. Only Old Wave science fictionfor Analog.”

 

Oh, well, okay, Mr. Campbell, and he said, “Oh, none ofthis New Wave stuff!” He was sort of backing away. “Only Old Wave stuff!” Andhe backed away, crossing himself.

 

That was my one and only meeting with John Campbell.

 

What was it likeworking with Isaac Asimov?

 

Gardner Dozois:Isaac was great to work for. For one thing, he didn’t really meddle with theeditorial content of the magazine at all. Which from my perspective was fine,because most of the stuff I was buying he would not have liked, if he actuallyread any of it. He was smart enough to hire people that he trusted, and thennot interfere with them. Which is very, very rare in today’s society.

 

He would come into the office once a week to pick up theletters, because he answered the letters for the letter column. It was always abig event when Isaac showed up at the office. People from all otherdepartments, crosswords magazines and everything, would get excited becauseIsaac was coming into the office. He would arrive and you could hear himwhistling and singing down the hallway. He would do Gilbert and Sullivan songs.He would do little dances, while he was coming down the corridor. He would makeup limericks on the spot for whoever was in the office. He would make up ofteninsulting, mildly risque limericks about them, and he would make up littlepoems which he would recite, and then he would pick up the mail and he wouldsing off down the corridor. That would be about it, actually, for our dealingwith Isaac.

 

But he certainly was a good boss to work with. He left youalone. He was entertaining when he showed up. You can’t ask more from a bossthan that.

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