Brian Burt's Blog: Work in Progress, page 9

The Cruelest Identity Theft

Some books leave a strong impression in the reader's mind. Some books leave a scar because they burrow deep into those tender, unprotected places. Still Alice, by Lisa Genova, is one of those novels that will haunt you, especially if they conjure images of loved ones in your own life.

I'm not sure that this book qualifies as science fiction... but it is fiction based on hard science, neuroscience, written by a Harvard neuroscientist with the expertise to make it realistic and the compassion to make it poignant. It traces the downward trajectory of a brilliant woman stricken with early onset Alzheimer's disease. The story unfolds from college professor Alice Howland's point of view as her intellect, her memory, the core of her being are stolen from her by the inexorable progression of plaques inside her brain. She fights against this ultimate form of identity theft, but of course she knows - and we know, as readers - that her enemy is currently beyond the ability of modern medical science to conquer.

I've seen Alzheimer's steal members of my own family away. To me, this is the cruelest, most tragic way for a person's life to end: long before their body surrenders, their essence has been drained away, reducing their loved ones to strangers... and rendering them unrecognizable to their loved ones at the same time. It's protracted, merciless, and utterly exhausting emotionally and physically to caregivers. It robs the patient of his or her independence and essential dignity. And yet, despite the tragedy awaiting Alice Howland at novel's end, author Genova shows us that a spark of her perseveres, preserved - if nowhere else - in the loving memories of her family, who continue to offer comfort and support. To the final page, she is "still Alice."

This novel haunted me, because it hit so close to home. I find Alzheimer's terrifying, quite frankly, but Alice Howland's story provided insights that at least helped me understand what it feels like for my mom, who is now in the late stages of the disease. In a fundamental way, we've already lost her. I know, from the many times we talked about this years ago, that this scenario is her worst nightmare. My dad has called it (with a quaver in his voice) "the long goodbye." He's done an amazing job of providing a familiar, loving presence throughout her ordeal, as each day brings new losses and new terrors for her. Alzheimer's in the real world is much scarier than any horror story I've ever read.

If you, too, know someone with Alzheimer's, this book is a must-read. I began it with great trepidation. I finished it with gratitude. It may help you hold that cruelest of identity thieves at bay and preserve some treasured memories of your afflicted loved one. That, in the end, is a victory for both of you.

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Adopting Outside Your Species

Our family recently welcomed a new honorary addition: we adopted a humpback whale via the wonderful organization Whale and Dolphin Conservation Society. Our "little bundle of joy" is named Sirius, a mature male humpback with a bright white mark in the center of his fluke and distinctive black coloring on the dorsal side of his flippers. As a proud papa, I have to show off a photo, right?



For anyone concerned about the health of our oceans, and the fate of some of its largest, smartest, and most remarkable denizens, this is a very worthy cause. Consider contributing with your own cetacean adoption. It will enrich your life... and make those extended family gatherings really special!

Hyper for Hyperion

One thing that's always frustrated me about speculative fiction - has frustrated many writers and readers of the SF and fantasy categories - is the way literary critics dismiss it contemptuously as "pulp" or "genre" dreck, unworthy of serious consideration. That, of course, is patently ridiculous. There have always been SF and fantasy classics that are beautifully, masterfully written for those who approach them with an open mind. That is one reason why I've always held Dan Simmons and his Hyperion novels in such high esteem. They are an eloquent counterpoint to any media source that denigrates SF and fantasy novels just because of the section of the bookstore they happen to occupy.

If you haven't read Hyperion or its subsequent installments, you owe it to yourself. The first novel has been compared to Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales, and the comparison is apt: a group of pilgrims travel to the legendary (and dreaded) Time Tombs, braving destruction at the hands of the Shrike, a time-spanning creature of unimaginable power and unfathomable motives. Each has a fascinating tale to tell. Their stories weave together as the series unfolds, reinforcing each other in unexpected ways.

The Hyperion series exemplifies brilliant storytelling. But - without question - these books also silence the condescending voices who dismiss SF and fantasy as undeserving of critical attention. They transcend genre, refuse to be bound by category. They are, purely and simply, great literature. If someone you know disdains your choice of speculative fiction as "all right for light entertainment," ask them to read Hyperion. That should shut them up, or at least give them something to think about!

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Critical Reviews - Pain into Gain

First, a confession: I have never handled criticism well. Positive feedback quickly fades from my memory, while negative feedback burrows deep into my psyche and slowly gnaws at my core insecurities, leaving me hollow and soul-sick. I certainly experienced critical comments in connection with short fiction in the past, and I coped. But when I recently published my first novel - despite the many warnings that I needed to prepare for brutal reviews, something every writer experiences - I wasn't adequately "hardened." A novel is such a commitment of blood and sweat, I wasn't ready for the tears.

I had heaved a sigh of relief as a handful of positive reviews showed up for the novel on Amazon and Goodreads (discounting the ones from friends). Then I joined a writers' review group, where we reviewed other rookie novelists' works without any chance of reciprocity. The first review from a fellow writer was candid but diplomatic, offering some positive comments that allowed me to salve my wounds. The second steamrolled me: it was unrelentingly critical. Worst of all, I sensed the "truthiness" (with all due credit to Stephen Colbert) in many of the complaints, which touched upon some of my deepest, most secret fears of writerly inadequacy. Ouch.

I'd love to be able to say that I rolled with these criticisms, immediately shrugged them off and refocused my efforts on writing a better book the next time around. I didn't. For a couple of days, I was utterly devastated and disconsolate, second-guessing my work on a sequel to the first novel, which was intended to be part one of a trilogy. What was the point? A few things saved me. First, my better half (cliche, but accurate - my wife is my most trusted confidante, first reader, and first editor) told me to chill and take a few days off, to gain perspective before I made any rash decisions. Second, two wonderful Goodreads members happened to post gracious reviews a few days after the "self-confidence bunker buster" hit.

But then, with a bit more balance in my perspective, I acknowledged a hard truth that many, many veterans had warned me about before this first novel hit the virtual shelves. Fiction reading is a highly subjective experience. Nobody - not even the brilliant writers who have inspired me for decades and whom I hold in awe - pleases every reader. Even the classics occasionally get dissed on Amazon.

So I resolved to take the critical feedback I had received from expert sources (fellow writers) and channel it into redoubling my efforts to do better with the next installment in the trilogy. If a comment resonated with my own deep-seated feelings about areas I need to work on, I considered it carefully when revisiting my work in progress. If a comment seemed off-base, and clashed with other feedback from general readers (non-friends), I ignored it. Honestly, when the dust settled, I felt better. The criticism reinforced lessons I should already have learned, shone a light on dim aspects of my fiction where I knew in my heart that I needed to refine my craft.

So are negative reviews pleasant? Hell, no. Are they useful? I would have to say, after careful consideration: hell, yes. No pain, no gain, right? As a newbie novelist, I'm gaining on it, one psychic trauma at a time!

Have some of you had similar epiphanies while ruminating over negative reviews? How did you use them to advantage? I'd love to hear your war stories!

#SFWApro

Interview and Book Review

This is just a quick announcement post to thank fellow Goodreads author Troy Jackson for interviewing me on his excellent Tempest Works site. Feel free to check it out if you're interested:

Tempest Works Guest Interview

Thanks, Troy!

Also (good things come in pairs, eh? ;-), a very nice review of my novel Aquarius Rising: In the Tears of God was just posted on the Albedo One web site, where I published a short story a few years back. You can check it out here:

Book Reviews - Demon’s Bento #3 July 2013

Thank you to Julian White at Albedo One for the kind words!

Beginning of the Ender

I'm a professional computer geek by day and have been for a long time. As such, I remain in awe of the work of SF writer Orson Scott Card in creating the acclaimed Ender series, which began with Ender's Game. The major motion picture of the same name, soon to be released, will no doubt inspire another generation of readers to savor this novel of special children, hand-picked from all over the world, who are ripped from their families and brutally prepared to save the Earth from deadly alien invaders. This visionary book, published in 1985 (before the World Wide Web was even a twinkle in Tim Berners-Lee's eye), foresaw so much related to my day job in IT: ubiquitous networking, virtual reality, multi-player online gaming so immersive that it blurs the lines between reality and fantasy. Beyond that touch of brilliance, I loved the fact that - in the end - the invading aliens turn out to be, not monsters, but intelligent, sympathetic beings so fundamentally different from us that they simply didn't recognize our sentience in time to avert a catastrophic confrontation.

So Ender's Game, the first in the series, won every major award the SF literati had to offer. But here's the punch line: Card wrote this novel primarily to set the stage for the sequel he really wanted to write, Speaker for the Dead. Wow - are you kidding me? The novel written just to "establish the backstory" becomes an SF classic. Now that, my friends, is talent!

I loved Ender's Game - as well as the 3rd and 4th novels in the "main sequence," Xenocide and Children of the Mind - but Speaker for the Dead remains my personal favorite. Card's genius allows him to cover the entire "speculative idea spectrum" in these novels, from hard SF concepts like FTL communication or travel; advanced future technologies like nanotech and bioengineering; sociological insights about how economics, culture, and politics intertwine; and profound spiritual questions about the nature of intelligent life in (and outside of) our universe. But in Speaker for the Dead, he also weaves an intricate ecological tapestry in which a biosphere-destroying virus forces indigenous species to band together in a symbiotic dance with each other and the pathogen that threatens them. Only by adapting their reproductive processes and life cycles to interweave, to unite in common biologic cause against the virus, can the survivors avoid extinction.

Throughout these novels (and the many others that have subsequently sprung from the fertile ground of Card's Ender-verse), Card serves as our "speaker for the read." (Ouch... forgive me.) Just as a speaker for the dead helps those left behind to see the raw, unvarnished truth of the departed's life - in all its beauty and with all its scars revealed - Card delivers lyrical insights into the universal truths that guide us all. As a writer, I recall reading the Ender novels and thinking, "That's wisdom. It feels like a piece of the divine puzzle we all want to solve."

So, if you haven't already, begin with Ender. Who knows where your own journey of enlightenment will end?

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Cli-Fi or Just Sci-Fi, and Why?

SF writers have always drawn inspiration from emerging scientific trends and developments, especially those that spark popular controversy. It's not surprising, then, that quite a few writers have set recent novels in worlds turned upside down - or at least sideways - by global warming. My own first novel, Aquarius Rising: In the Tears of God, has climate change as its central theme, and enough books and authors have used global warming as a story driver that media sources like NPR proclaim a new literary genre called "climate fiction" or "cli-fi" (see So Hot Right Now: Has Climate Change Created A New Literary Genre?). This has prompted many speculative fiction veterans to sigh, roll their eyes, and point out (with muted disdain) that this is nothing new: SF has a rich history of tackling environmental themes, and "cli-fi" is at best a loose subcategory of classic science fiction.

I definitely see why the SF community bristles at the implication that this style of fiction represents something completely new. Great SF writers have indeed explored the territory that includes climate change, environmental disaster, and ecological imbalance for decades and have found fertile ground there. (Fertile for the writers' imaginations; perhaps not so fertile for the story's characters who may be left wandering through parched and barren hellscapes.) As I mentioned in a prior post, Frank Herbert's Dune series is a perfect example. Kim Stanley Robinson has mined this rich story vein brilliantly for years. And I still remember being mesmerized by Ursula Le Guin's The Word for World is Forest.

So, for SF fans, this is nothing new. What's changed, then (besides the melting polar ice, rising seas, violent weather patterns, and mean Earth temperature)? I'd say two major factors contributed to the emergence of "cli-fi" in the public eye. First, the evidence for global warming has become dramatically visible to people in their everyday lives. Extreme weather events and the nearly unanimous consensus of climate scientists have gradually shifted popular perception of this issue. Even the deniers grudgingly admit that something is happening, although they might argue about the root causes. Second, the theme of climate change has begun appearing in the work of acclaimed "mainstream" literary fiction writers like Barbara Kingsolver, Ian McEwan, and Margaret Atwood, to name a few. Although this rankles some SF folks who feel that we're treated like "second-class literary citizens," the reality is that mainstream literary writers carry more weight with many media sources.

New genre or simply newly recognized SF sub-genre, this can be a positive development for writers of speculative fiction with a passion for environmental themes. And, for those of us who also feel impassioned about environmental causes, it's a win-win. I believe fiction can communicate messages (like "we're mortgaging our planet's future for short-term economic gain") in ways that are more visceral than nonfiction books addressing similar concerns. Facts can move the mind, but fiction can move the spirit. Fiction writing is not activism... but infusing core beliefs into a story can make that tale more vivid and thought-provoking if it's not done in a preachy, heavy-handed way.

Is it really cli-fi or just good ol' sci-fi? Ultimately, I don't care, as long as readers enjoy the books and consider the implications. SF has a proud history of presenting cautionary tales about possible dystopian futures, and I for one think that just might help humanity avoid them!

BTW, for those interested, my local environmental organization interviewed me about the inspiration for my own "climate fiction" novel on their blog recently. Feel free to check it out if you're interested!
WMEAC Member Writes Climate Change Sci-Fi Novel

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The Expanding Dune-iverse

Some books maintain a laser focus and deliver a tight, satisfying story within those confines. Other books or series cast a wider net: they boldly tackle a storytelling scope that spans the galaxy (or galaxies) and covers millennia. I enjoy both approaches, but the second, done well, takes my breath away. Dune, by Frank Herbert, left me struggling for oxygen and loving every minute of it!

There are many dimensions which a speculative-fiction novel can explore: political intrigue; metaphysics; religion; scientific or technological paradigm shifts; economic forces that drive (or poison) human behavior; tensions between radically different races, species, or cultures that erupt into conflict; ecological changes that reshape worlds and the societies that inhabit them. An ambitious writer might seriously address two or three in a story. In Dune, Herbert manages to develop all of these themes, not short-changing any of them, and weaves them into a tapestry as rich and vivid as any I've encountered. That's an amazing feat. The novel, and the series, challenge you to understand the details of each individual element. More importantly, you are asked to discern the larger patterns and how they combine, collide, and interact to create a civilization that fills a sizable chunk of time and space.

I loved getting lost in Herbert's universe. I always felt that I only saw the tip of the iceberg; that Herbert must have spent years developing the intricate, sprawling backstories that lurked beneath the surface, lending the series its considerable weight. No matter how you tried, you couldn't digest it all...but it was thought-provoking, entertaining, and enlightening to try!

Of all the themes in Dune, the ecological one affected me most deeply. I've always been environmentally-minded, always enjoyed walking in the woods or reading in the shade of a tall tree, serenaded by birds. And I've always worried about the impact we're having on those wild places, because I truly believe they enrich us in ways we don't know how to measure. We are diminished every time we sacrifice another in the name of progress.

So, admittedly, I'm no Frank Herbert. But I did study his masterworks carefully, and I've tried my very best to incorporate the lessons taught by Dune into my own new novel, Aquarius Rising: In the Tears of God. This is book 1 of a trilogy that explores the potential trauma for residents of a future Earth where our worst-case scenarios for climate change have come to pass. Humans are forced to adapt to a hostile, wounded planet. Humanoid subspecies struggle to carve out their own niches in ecosystems far less friendly than the ones under which we've prospered. Aquarius Rising is not Dune, by a long shot. But - if I learned a fraction of what Herbert's famous series had to teach - I'll consider the time spent swimming through Aquarius's murky seas worthwhile. If you choose to read it, I hope you will, too!

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Tribute to the King

Some books have changed me fundamentally over the years. So have some writers. Stephen King is one of them: he's ridiculously prolific, a great storyteller, and has an amazing gift for crafting characters so realistic, so recognizable and compelling that you believe the unbelievable situations into which they are thrust. He makes you care about the characters, deeply, and agonize over their fates as they face supernatural forces that would paralyze a Navy SEAL.

For those who haven't experienced it, The Stand is a must-read. It's one of my all-time favorites, a thousand-page epic that ends too soon, the ultimate battle between good and evil. The soldiers on both sides are mostly just people: good people with flaws, not-really-evil people with fatal flaws that lead them down a dark path. King makes you cheer for the good guys, but he makes you feel sympathy for the bad guys, too. As a reader who also writes, I find that to be an awesome achievement, one to which I aspire every time I sit down at the computer and try to tell a story.

So Stephen King has educated me steadily over the years as I've gobbled up as many of his novels as I could. But he also educated me more explicitly when he released his memoir, On Writing. For any fiction writer or reader who appreciates insight into the craft, this is a wonderful book. Its tone is personal, engaging, sometimes intimate and often enlightening; full of anecdotes that make you feel like you're sitting in your living room, drinking a cold beer with a friend. But it also offers down-to-earth, common-sense advice about how to be a writer, and how to keep being a writer even when that blank page / screen intimidates the heck out of you.

The memoir also deals with King's nearly fatal accident in 1999, when he was walking along the side of a country road, reading, and was struck by a passing van. I remember hearing that news and being devastated, as countless fans around the world were. King describes the experience - before, during, and after - in graphic detail, and proves once again that he's a brilliant storyteller. Personal confession: my wife regularly walks around the block in our sleepy neighborhood, where there's almost no traffic and a 20-MPH speed limit, reading her book. She tells me it's utterly safe, that I'm an overprotective goof to be worried... but I flash back to the end of On Writing and have to suppress the urge to skulk around behind her, keeping watch for weaving vans.

Great stories stay with you, as do great characters. Turns out that Stephen King is a great character, too!

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The Dresden Files Work Their Magic

Last week, I blogged about how the book Saving Sammy: Curing the Boy Who Caught OCD led to a turning point in my oldest son's treatment for a rare, devastating illness called PANDAS. This week, I wanted to share a wonderful fiction series by Jim Butcher called the Dresden Files. If Saving Sammy was the cure for my son and our family, the Dresden Files was the pain medication that made life bearable during the darkest days.

During the times when our son's brain was literally on fire from inflammation, only one thing gave him any relief: the Dresden Files novels. My wife and I would take turns reading to him, sometimes all day long, until he finally grew exhausted enough to fall asleep. It became our ritual to keep the neuropsychiatric demons at bay. Thankfully, this is a long series (11 books at that time, I think; now 15 and counting). We would finish a book, immediately move on to the next, and wrap around to the beginning again when we finished the last book in the series. We could not have asked for a better fictional world in which to take refuge!

The protagonist, Harry Dresden, is a wizard for hire; basically, a PI with a blasting rod and staff instead of a pistol. Imagine Merlin fused with Sam Spade and you're in the ballpark. Harry is a wisecracking, irreverent guy with a dark past and unbending core principles that often make him reckless to the point of being borderline suicidal. In many ways, he was the perfect symbol of hope for our family. He was forced to battle dark forces against which he had little control and slim odds of success; he routinely got bruised, battered, and beaten to a pulp; but he never gave up and always came back for more. And, ultimately, he always found a way to defeat the evils he confronted. You gotta love a magical knight with attitude!

Jim Butcher has filled the Dresden Files with many memorable characters to complement Harry. There's Thomas Raith, Harry's half-brother, a White Court vampire who literally battles his inner demon to avoid turning to the dark side. Karrin Murphy, an indomitable sparkplug of a cop, refuses to put up with Harry's chivalrous protectiveness and fights at his side against things that would send grizzled police veterans screaming into the night. Molly Carpenter, the Goth girl turned apprentice mage, allowed her adolescent indiscretion to put her very soul at risk and now must use her growing powers to help Harry without crossing the line that will trigger her summary execution. And of course there's Bob, the disembodied spirit that lives inside a skull and serves as Harry's sidekick, providing an encyclopedic knowledge of magic delivered with a sarcastic spin and a ribald sense of humor.

That's the beauty, the brilliance of this series. It's chock-full of dark magic, dreadful supernatural foes, relentless action, memorable twists. But - at its heart - it invites the reader to become part of a vibrant, dysfunctional family of characters that makes you feel at home... and makes you care deeply about what happens to them. Each new Dresden Files novel seems to set the bar higher, which is a tall order for a series that started so strongly in the first place.

A great story can be strong medicine. It was for us, and remains so as we eagerly await each new offering from Jim Butcher's Dresden-verse. If you ever need to escape your own dark reality for a darker realm of imagination where hope stubbornly blazes on despite overwhelming odds, this is a great world to visit!