Michael Swanwick's Blog, page 176
December 18, 2012
Shopping
.
Inexplicably, I spent all day today running around shopping. I don't how the folks out in the burbs manage it, or why they seem to enjoy it so much.
The Italian Market is always fun, though.
Above: Marianne in the Market.
*
Inexplicably, I spent all day today running around shopping. I don't how the folks out in the burbs manage it, or why they seem to enjoy it so much.
The Italian Market is always fun, though.
Above: Marianne in the Market.
*
December 17, 2012
My Guardian Tortoise
.
Look what Marianne bought for me over the weekend! A Chinese tortoise. Marianne says it will stay in my office until the next Darger & Surplus novel is done.
The only question I have is: Exactly what does the tortoise mean?
There are a number of readers here who know a lot about China, so I'm asking this publicly: What the heck?
Knowledgeable responses are welcomed.
*
Look what Marianne bought for me over the weekend! A Chinese tortoise. Marianne says it will stay in my office until the next Darger & Surplus novel is done.
The only question I have is: Exactly what does the tortoise mean?
There are a number of readers here who know a lot about China, so I'm asking this publicly: What the heck?
Knowledgeable responses are welcomed.
*
December 14, 2012
A Houseboat on Titan
.
Pop quiz. What's the largest sea on Titan?
Why, Kraken Mare, of course.
Now the Cassini probe has discovered the largest river to date on the second-largest moon in the solar system (Ganymede is largest; our own Moon is number five), and it flows into Kraken Mare. The surface of Titan is so cold that water-ice is as hard as granite. So, by the best analyses, the seas and rivers are made up of ethane and methane.
Titan, which you all know is the largest moon of Saturn, presents a particularly difficult problem in mapping because it has a murky atmosphere in which all kinds of interesting chemical reactions are going on, so none of its surface is visible from above. All the mapping has to be done by radar.
The common reportage is comparing this new discovery to the River Nile, which is silly when you consider that the new river is somewhere between 200 and 250 miles long, while the Nile extend over four thousand miles. But it's still a terrific discovery, especially when you're as old as I am.
When I was a kid, all the solar moons other than our own were mysterious and blurry spots on photographic plates. Very little was known about any of them, other than that they were there. Now, there are maps of many of them.
I'm particularly interested in news from Titan because ten years ago I wrote a story set there which went on to win a Hugo Award. It was called "Slow Life" and was based on dozens and dozens of NASA technical papers which I downloaded from the Web and read and internalized until they told me a story. The presence of ethane-methane lakes and seas was purely speculative at the time, and I took a chance on them existing because I could have a better story if they did. So I really lucked out there.
Looking at that grainy radar photo above, though, I feel my imagination stirring. Had it existed when I wrote "Slow Life," I would almost certainly have had a scene set on a raft on that river. I would have drawn a large map and named every tributary, twist, and cove of it. I would have sent my astronaut on a perilous journey to the north, into Kraken Mare, there to make some strange discovery. I would have sent my mind to live there for a few months. And I would have written a very different story than the one I did.
That story is out there to be written. There's a flood of great new information still pouring in and being made available to all the world for free by NASA, and God bless them for that. I'm not likely to return to Titan because then I'd be competing with myself. But if you're a new or gonnabe writer, why not give the possibility some thought? SF editors love hard SF because it's popular and because they get so little of it.
Feel free to write a better story than mine. I won't mind. The next Hugo could be yours.
You can read about the (still unnamed) river here .
*
Pop quiz. What's the largest sea on Titan?
Why, Kraken Mare, of course.
Now the Cassini probe has discovered the largest river to date on the second-largest moon in the solar system (Ganymede is largest; our own Moon is number five), and it flows into Kraken Mare. The surface of Titan is so cold that water-ice is as hard as granite. So, by the best analyses, the seas and rivers are made up of ethane and methane.
Titan, which you all know is the largest moon of Saturn, presents a particularly difficult problem in mapping because it has a murky atmosphere in which all kinds of interesting chemical reactions are going on, so none of its surface is visible from above. All the mapping has to be done by radar.
The common reportage is comparing this new discovery to the River Nile, which is silly when you consider that the new river is somewhere between 200 and 250 miles long, while the Nile extend over four thousand miles. But it's still a terrific discovery, especially when you're as old as I am.
When I was a kid, all the solar moons other than our own were mysterious and blurry spots on photographic plates. Very little was known about any of them, other than that they were there. Now, there are maps of many of them.
I'm particularly interested in news from Titan because ten years ago I wrote a story set there which went on to win a Hugo Award. It was called "Slow Life" and was based on dozens and dozens of NASA technical papers which I downloaded from the Web and read and internalized until they told me a story. The presence of ethane-methane lakes and seas was purely speculative at the time, and I took a chance on them existing because I could have a better story if they did. So I really lucked out there.
Looking at that grainy radar photo above, though, I feel my imagination stirring. Had it existed when I wrote "Slow Life," I would almost certainly have had a scene set on a raft on that river. I would have drawn a large map and named every tributary, twist, and cove of it. I would have sent my astronaut on a perilous journey to the north, into Kraken Mare, there to make some strange discovery. I would have sent my mind to live there for a few months. And I would have written a very different story than the one I did.
That story is out there to be written. There's a flood of great new information still pouring in and being made available to all the world for free by NASA, and God bless them for that. I'm not likely to return to Titan because then I'd be competing with myself. But if you're a new or gonnabe writer, why not give the possibility some thought? SF editors love hard SF because it's popular and because they get so little of it.
Feel free to write a better story than mine. I won't mind. The next Hugo could be yours.
You can read about the (still unnamed) river here .
*
December 13, 2012
You'll Believe A Dragon Can Fly
.
Okay, this is, on the face of it, an astonishing hack. This is not wire work and not CGI. The dragon is really flying. But how? pause for a minute and try to figure it out. I'll confess I had to look it up, though once the trick is revealed it seems obvious.
Here's a tip: The flight took place at night.
Gizmodo has the explanation. Click here to find out.
And long ago and near away . . .
In 1976, four individuals convened for a conversation on ARPANET. They were, implausibly enough, puppeteer Jim Henson, painter Sidney Nolan, conceptual artist Yoko Ono, and philosopher Ayn Rand.
You can find this unlikely and unintentionally hilarious dialogue here.
UPDATE: Alerted by one of this blog's readers (see below), I discovered that the above conversation was a hoax -- or, as its creators would have it, an art installation -- by Bassam El Baroni, Jeremy Beaudry and Nav Haq.
I apologize for helping to spread misinformation. And shame on me for falling for it.
*
Okay, this is, on the face of it, an astonishing hack. This is not wire work and not CGI. The dragon is really flying. But how? pause for a minute and try to figure it out. I'll confess I had to look it up, though once the trick is revealed it seems obvious.
Here's a tip: The flight took place at night.
Gizmodo has the explanation. Click here to find out.
And long ago and near away . . .
In 1976, four individuals convened for a conversation on ARPANET. They were, implausibly enough, puppeteer Jim Henson, painter Sidney Nolan, conceptual artist Yoko Ono, and philosopher Ayn Rand.
You can find this unlikely and unintentionally hilarious dialogue here.
UPDATE: Alerted by one of this blog's readers (see below), I discovered that the above conversation was a hoax -- or, as its creators would have it, an art installation -- by Bassam El Baroni, Jeremy Beaudry and Nav Haq.
I apologize for helping to spread misinformation. And shame on me for falling for it.
*
December 12, 2012
Wassail! Wassail!
.
There are roughly . . . No, wait, let me get the exact number. Ah! There are precisely a kajillion recipes for Wassail available on the Internet. Here's one:
Wassail Punch
3 pints brown ail
half pound white sugar
1 teaspoon mixed spices (cinnamon or allspice, nutmeg, mace)
6 cloves
7 roasted crabapples
1 pint hard cider
3 lemon slices
Roast the apples for 35 minutes at 400 degrees. Place them at the bottom of the serving bowl and dust with spices. Then put the beer, cider, sugar, and cloves in a large pan and heat (but do no boil) on the stove, stirring until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is quite hot. Pour the mixture into the serving bowl, float the lemon rings, and serve.
I got this recipe at the Drinking With Dickens event on Monday. It's worth mentioning that there are nonalcoholic wassail recipes that are every bit as festive. And, as you can guess, the recipe can be adapted to taste.
And speaking of hot festive drinks . . .
My own favorite Yuletide drink is mulled wine, not for its flavor (though that is excellent) but because we mull the wine the old-fashioned way: By placing a poker in the wood stove until its end is red-hot, and then plunging the hot iron into the drink.
What a terrific moment that is! The wine bubbles and boils and a great hiss of steam shoots out. If you can't be merry after that, there's no hope for you.
*
There are roughly . . . No, wait, let me get the exact number. Ah! There are precisely a kajillion recipes for Wassail available on the Internet. Here's one:
Wassail Punch
3 pints brown ail
half pound white sugar
1 teaspoon mixed spices (cinnamon or allspice, nutmeg, mace)
6 cloves
7 roasted crabapples
1 pint hard cider
3 lemon slices
Roast the apples for 35 minutes at 400 degrees. Place them at the bottom of the serving bowl and dust with spices. Then put the beer, cider, sugar, and cloves in a large pan and heat (but do no boil) on the stove, stirring until the sugar dissolves and the mixture is quite hot. Pour the mixture into the serving bowl, float the lemon rings, and serve.
I got this recipe at the Drinking With Dickens event on Monday. It's worth mentioning that there are nonalcoholic wassail recipes that are every bit as festive. And, as you can guess, the recipe can be adapted to taste.
And speaking of hot festive drinks . . .
My own favorite Yuletide drink is mulled wine, not for its flavor (though that is excellent) but because we mull the wine the old-fashioned way: By placing a poker in the wood stove until its end is red-hot, and then plunging the hot iron into the drink.
What a terrific moment that is! The wine bubbles and boils and a great hiss of steam shoots out. If you can't be merry after that, there's no hope for you.
*
December 11, 2012
A Smoking Bishop for the Workhouse Boy
.
Last night I went to the Drinking With Dickens event at the Dark Horse Tavern in Society Hill, Philadelphia. This was the kind of pleasant eccentricity I live in the city for. There were a few brief readings and several pleasant toasts. Cups of smoking bishop and wassail were quaffed. And carolers (shown above in a photo taken by Don Lafferty) sang era-appropriate holiday songs.
Mostly, though, people chatted and enjoyed each other's company. It was, I trust, the sort of evening that the workhouse boy who made good would have enjoyed.
And because you're curious . . .
Here's the recipe for smoking bishop:
Above: My thanks to Don for letting me post his photo.
*
Last night I went to the Drinking With Dickens event at the Dark Horse Tavern in Society Hill, Philadelphia. This was the kind of pleasant eccentricity I live in the city for. There were a few brief readings and several pleasant toasts. Cups of smoking bishop and wassail were quaffed. And carolers (shown above in a photo taken by Don Lafferty) sang era-appropriate holiday songs.
Mostly, though, people chatted and enjoyed each other's company. It was, I trust, the sort of evening that the workhouse boy who made good would have enjoyed.
And because you're curious . . .
Here's the recipe for smoking bishop:
6 Seville oranges
1/4 pound sugar
1 bottle dry red wine
1 bottle port
cloves
Bake the oranges in the oven until pale brown and then place in a warmed earthenware bowl with five cloves pricked into each. Add sugar. Pour in the dry red wine, but not the port. Cover and leave in a warm place for about a day. Squeeze the oranges into the wine and pour it through a sieve. Add the port and heat but do not boil. Serve in warmed goblets. Drink hot.
Above: My thanks to Don for letting me post his photo.
*
December 10, 2012
Unpublished and Doing Better Than You Think
.
<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-fareast-language:JA;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:0in; mso-footer-margin:0in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} </style>--> <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I got into a brief conversation on Facebook with a young writer who posted that she had finished her first novel and was “saving up to have a professional editor go over it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I suggested she consider submitting the novel to a few New York publishers (one at a time, of course) before going the self-publishing route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t claim that was the only way to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there are a lot of advantages to going with a publishing house, including the fact that they provide the editing free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, of course, pay you an advance.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The writer replied that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she’d assumed she would have no shot without a well known agent backing her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">This is not true, I told her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go to a few science fiction conventions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Attend the panels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Politely speak to published writers, tell them you've written a novel, and ask for advice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most fantasy and science fiction writers are far friendlier and more approachable than you’d suspect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m guessing that you’re planning to self-publish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t do so until you’ve talked with some writers who have successfully done so and listened seriously to their advice.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t have the time (I am reminded by various editors who are figuratively frowning over my shoulder and tapping their watches to remind me that I do have deadlines) to correspond with this young writer and give her all the useful advice she requires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I will say this to her, and to all of you who find yourself in a position analogous to hers:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You’ve already done the hard part.</i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The overwhelming majority of those who want to be writers never do finish a book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So stand up and take a bow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re part of the one percent.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The whole business of learning how to find a publisher looks daunting to you now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s far less difficult than what you’ve done already.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">And up above . . .</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"> I was at <b>Pook & Pook Auctions </b>the other day and discovered that the National Clock is going up on auction sometime in January. This astonishing piece of folk art -- something like six feet tall -- has hundreds of little figures, both religious (the Crucifixion) and political (Uncle Sam and his monkey). Apparently it was one of those strange things that made the rounds in the nineteenth century, supporting its owner on the contributions of awestruck yokels.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Just thought I'd share. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">*</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com...' alt='' /></div>
<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:1 134676480 16 0 131072 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 0 0 0 1 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-fareast-language:JA;} @page WordSection1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:0in; mso-footer-margin:0in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} </style>--> <br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I got into a brief conversation on Facebook with a young writer who posted that she had finished her first novel and was “saving up to have a professional editor go over it.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So I suggested she consider submitting the novel to a few New York publishers (one at a time, of course) before going the self-publishing route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t claim that was the only way to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there are a lot of advantages to going with a publishing house, including the fact that they provide the editing free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, of course, pay you an advance.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The writer replied that<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she’d assumed she would have no shot without a well known agent backing her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">This is not true, I told her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go to a few science fiction conventions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Attend the panels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Politely speak to published writers, tell them you've written a novel, and ask for advice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most fantasy and science fiction writers are far friendlier and more approachable than you’d suspect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m guessing that you’re planning to self-publish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t do so until you’ve talked with some writers who have successfully done so and listened seriously to their advice.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t have the time (I am reminded by various editors who are figuratively frowning over my shoulder and tapping their watches to remind me that I do have deadlines) to correspond with this young writer and give her all the useful advice she requires.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I will say this to her, and to all of you who find yourself in a position analogous to hers:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You’ve already done the hard part.</i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The overwhelming majority of those who want to be writers never do finish a book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So stand up and take a bow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’re part of the one percent.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The whole business of learning how to find a publisher looks daunting to you now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But it’s far less difficult than what you’ve done already.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">And up above . . .</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"> I was at <b>Pook & Pook Auctions </b>the other day and discovered that the National Clock is going up on auction sometime in January. This astonishing piece of folk art -- something like six feet tall -- has hundreds of little figures, both religious (the Crucifixion) and political (Uncle Sam and his monkey). Apparently it was one of those strange things that made the rounds in the nineteenth century, supporting its owner on the contributions of awestruck yokels.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Just thought I'd share. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">*</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com...' alt='' /></div>
December 7, 2012
Esprit d'Escalier
.
Last weekend, I had dinner with a few local SF people and members of a college chemistry class who were working on a paper on changing representations of chemistry in science fiction, and one of the students asked if science fiction stories followed trends in the arts and movies and television. I ignored the part of the question involving the arts because while there must be others, I'm the only writer I know who follows contemporary art specifically to find new story ideas. But I said that for various reasons print SF was far, far ahead of other media.
Without going into details, it was a not a bad rap and perfectly valid to boot. But afterward, I was hit by what the French call esprit d'escalier, "the spirit of the staircase." Which is when you realize, while you're on the stairs leaving the party, what you should have said earlier.
What I should and didn't add was that while SF doesn't follow trends elsewhere in the arts, it for sure follows trends in the sciences. When Gerard K. O'Neil came up with the idea of L5 colonies, a flock of L5 colony stories -- I wrote one myself -- appeared about a year later. If you want to have some fun, subscribe to Science News and then watch its reportage turn into fiction twelve months later.
It's an obvious point, I know. But I've been kicking myself for having missed it. So you may consider this my venting.
Thanks for listening.
*
Last weekend, I had dinner with a few local SF people and members of a college chemistry class who were working on a paper on changing representations of chemistry in science fiction, and one of the students asked if science fiction stories followed trends in the arts and movies and television. I ignored the part of the question involving the arts because while there must be others, I'm the only writer I know who follows contemporary art specifically to find new story ideas. But I said that for various reasons print SF was far, far ahead of other media.
Without going into details, it was a not a bad rap and perfectly valid to boot. But afterward, I was hit by what the French call esprit d'escalier, "the spirit of the staircase." Which is when you realize, while you're on the stairs leaving the party, what you should have said earlier.
What I should and didn't add was that while SF doesn't follow trends elsewhere in the arts, it for sure follows trends in the sciences. When Gerard K. O'Neil came up with the idea of L5 colonies, a flock of L5 colony stories -- I wrote one myself -- appeared about a year later. If you want to have some fun, subscribe to Science News and then watch its reportage turn into fiction twelve months later.
It's an obvious point, I know. But I've been kicking myself for having missed it. So you may consider this my venting.
Thanks for listening.
*
December 6, 2012
And At The Very Last Minute . . .
.When I began this blog, I promised to post every Monday and Friday, to the best of my ability. To my astonishment, I only very rarely missed one of those posts. On the whole, as a general rule, I've managed to post five days a week. This was a lot more than I thought I could do.
Yesterday, I drove three hundred miles to Pittsburgh, and today I drove three hundred miles back. Arriving home this evening, I thought there was nothing I could possibly say here. But then I turned on the TV and found Casablanca .
Two things struck me then. The first was what a good actor Dooley Wilson was. This was at a time when black actors only rarely appeared in Hollywood movies, and then as menials in roles they worked hard to make positive messages to the white majority. When Ilse refers to to Sam as "the boy," it comes as a shock. But it was routine then.
Watch the movie now, however, and Wilson's Sam is the equal of any of the other characters.
The other thing that struck me was how luminous the movie is, shot by shot. It's as close to perfect as Hollywood ever got. And yet, as it was being made, the movie was a fiasco. Nobody knew how it would end. Nobody knew what was going on. Nobody knew whether Ilse still loved Rick. But there was a big commitment of resources, so they simply plowed forward, doing as best they could.
To create a work of art.
This is the life of the artist, of the creator. You simply go forward, doing as best you can. The result looks like it sucks but you turn it in. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't. Despair is the common lot. It's very easy to give in.
If you don't give in, the result may well suck. But once in a blue moon, it may be Casablanca .
Here endeth the sermon. Go thou forth and commit literary sins no more.
*
Yesterday, I drove three hundred miles to Pittsburgh, and today I drove three hundred miles back. Arriving home this evening, I thought there was nothing I could possibly say here. But then I turned on the TV and found Casablanca .
Two things struck me then. The first was what a good actor Dooley Wilson was. This was at a time when black actors only rarely appeared in Hollywood movies, and then as menials in roles they worked hard to make positive messages to the white majority. When Ilse refers to to Sam as "the boy," it comes as a shock. But it was routine then.
Watch the movie now, however, and Wilson's Sam is the equal of any of the other characters.
The other thing that struck me was how luminous the movie is, shot by shot. It's as close to perfect as Hollywood ever got. And yet, as it was being made, the movie was a fiasco. Nobody knew how it would end. Nobody knew what was going on. Nobody knew whether Ilse still loved Rick. But there was a big commitment of resources, so they simply plowed forward, doing as best they could.
To create a work of art.
This is the life of the artist, of the creator. You simply go forward, doing as best you can. The result looks like it sucks but you turn it in. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn't. Despair is the common lot. It's very easy to give in.
If you don't give in, the result may well suck. But once in a blue moon, it may be Casablanca .
Here endeth the sermon. Go thou forth and commit literary sins no more.
*
December 5, 2012
Jeff Millar in Alternate Reality
.
Jeff Millar, writer of the Tank McNamara cartoon, died the other day. I always liked that strip for its gentle humanity, positive spirit, and because occasionally the fact that Tank (and presumably Jeff) was politically conservative would surface. And whenever it did, it was clear that Tank was a reasonable human being and bore no hatred for those who didn't share his views. He was, in other words, rather like most of the conservatives I know personally. As a liberal, I found that a very positive message.
Millar had exactly one science fiction credit, but it was a good one. His story, "Toto, I Have a Feeling We're Not in Kansas Anymore," appeared in Damon Knight's Orbit 17. In it, a police detective responding to a reported attack of monsters finds himself acting like the hero of a bad noir movie. He gets involved in an implausible love relationship with a female scientist, who is similarly appalled by the fact that she's not behaving the way real scientists do but like a science babe on TV. They are caught in a distortion of reality caused by a teenage geek with godlike mutant powers.
It was hilariously funny. My favorite moment is when a giant dinosaur, obviously made of papier-mache over chicken wire, appears, hung from strings that disappear into the sky, and the crowd of terrified citizens say, as one, "Oh, come on!"
How good was this story? So good that a friend -- Jim Kelly, maybe? -- and I enthused to Ellen Datlow about it and urged her to commission more such stories from Millar. Ellen was the editor of Omni at that time, and was paying the best rates in the field. She could simply wait for the very best SF available to show up on her doorstep. But she looked up the story, read it, agreed with us, and got in touch with Millar.
Alas, Millar replied that the comic strip took up too much of his time for him to oblige Ellen. But in an alternative universe, he rose to the challenge and became one of the most beloved writers in science fiction.
In ours, we can only say it could have been. Which is far, far superior to it never coulda happened.
Rest in peace, gentle cartoon writer. We'll read your science fiction in a better world than this.
And as always . . .
I'm on the road again. Home soon. Take good care of yourselves while I'm away, hear?
*
Jeff Millar, writer of the Tank McNamara cartoon, died the other day. I always liked that strip for its gentle humanity, positive spirit, and because occasionally the fact that Tank (and presumably Jeff) was politically conservative would surface. And whenever it did, it was clear that Tank was a reasonable human being and bore no hatred for those who didn't share his views. He was, in other words, rather like most of the conservatives I know personally. As a liberal, I found that a very positive message.
Millar had exactly one science fiction credit, but it was a good one. His story, "Toto, I Have a Feeling We're Not in Kansas Anymore," appeared in Damon Knight's Orbit 17. In it, a police detective responding to a reported attack of monsters finds himself acting like the hero of a bad noir movie. He gets involved in an implausible love relationship with a female scientist, who is similarly appalled by the fact that she's not behaving the way real scientists do but like a science babe on TV. They are caught in a distortion of reality caused by a teenage geek with godlike mutant powers.
It was hilariously funny. My favorite moment is when a giant dinosaur, obviously made of papier-mache over chicken wire, appears, hung from strings that disappear into the sky, and the crowd of terrified citizens say, as one, "Oh, come on!"
How good was this story? So good that a friend -- Jim Kelly, maybe? -- and I enthused to Ellen Datlow about it and urged her to commission more such stories from Millar. Ellen was the editor of Omni at that time, and was paying the best rates in the field. She could simply wait for the very best SF available to show up on her doorstep. But she looked up the story, read it, agreed with us, and got in touch with Millar.
Alas, Millar replied that the comic strip took up too much of his time for him to oblige Ellen. But in an alternative universe, he rose to the challenge and became one of the most beloved writers in science fiction.
In ours, we can only say it could have been. Which is far, far superior to it never coulda happened.
Rest in peace, gentle cartoon writer. We'll read your science fiction in a better world than this.
And as always . . .
I'm on the road again. Home soon. Take good care of yourselves while I'm away, hear?
*
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