P.C. Hodgell's Blog, page 4

Post Worldcon

Got home from Dublin yesterday.  We spent the first week touring the western coast of Ireland -- beautiful country full of neolithic ruins and more recent structures (from the middle ages up to 1950 in the case of one beehive hut) built exactly the same way.  Ditto the stone walls and perhaps the descendents of the sheep within them.  Another memorable site was a medieval monastery (again with beehives) that had survived up to the present because it was a cemetery for unbaptized babies buried at night by their fathers without priests on  pillows of stone -- this, according to the archeologist who escorted us.  It gave me a sense of a continuous landscape not available in this country or age but probably typical of Rathillien.  

Worldcon came the second week.  I think the organizers didn't expect so many people to show up, nearly 5,000.  The events were very crowded with long lines.  One could wait an hour and still not get in.  My events were well attended, though.  The panel on Epic Fantasy  (Is it Conservative?) went pretty well, although the other panalists tended to say what I meant to before me, at greater length, more eloquently.   Also, the moderatior tried to cut me off, but the audience wouldn't let him.  Everyone distanced his or her own work from conservatism.  No one wanted to discuss the pressure that the conservative tropes place on all of us, creatively and professionally.  Oh well.

The koffeeklatch raised some interesting questions, one of which I pass on here:  what loose ends do I need to tie up before the end of the series, granted that some of them will be left dangling?  I have my own list, of course, but it's been a long story and I may have missed something important.

Then I got home and there was a message waiting for me from my publisher.  The audio rights to the series have sold to Recorded Books, with God Stalk tentatively due out next month.  I'm very pleased.

Dublin worldcon

The Dublin schedule is out.  I'm pleased to find that I'm on four events.  Hope to see some of you at some of them!

Autographs: Friday at 11:00
16 Aug 2019, Friday 11:00 - 11:50, Level 4 Foyer (CCD)
Is epic fantasy conservative?
Format: Panel
16 Aug 2019, Friday 13:00 - 13:50, Wicklow Hall-1 (CCD)
Back in 2013, Gollancz’s Twitter account made the claim that: ‘Epic Fantasy is, by and large, crushingly conservative in its delivery, its politics and its morality’. The question sparked a discussion that is still relevant and ongoing. Is epic fantasy politically conservative and, if so, what does this tell us about the genre?
Joseph Malik (M) (author@josephmalik.com), Chris Humphreys (c.c.humphreys@me.com), Juliet E McKenna (jesouch@gmail.com), P C Hodgell (phodgell@att.net), Mary Soon Lee (marysoonlee@gmail.com)
Reading: P. C. Hodgell
17 Aug 2019, Saturday 19:30 - 19:50, Liffey Room-3 (Readings) (CCD)
Kaffeeklatsch: P. C. Hodgell
18 Aug 2019, Sunday 11:00 - 11:50, Level 3 Foyer (KK/LB) (CCD)

The Protagonist Speaks

Earlier this year I was contacted by Assaph Mehr for a website called The Protagonist Speaks.  The format is that a literary hero is interviewed and expresses her/himself in his/her own words, sometimes within the context of their world.  An interesting concept.  Anyway, I wrote a short interview with Jame, which has just been posted:  https://theprotagonistspeaks.com/2019/05/17/jame-of-the-kencyrath-chronicles-by-p-c-hodgell/#more-2243  

The Minneapolis signing went okay, given that Stephen King was also in town and it was the first day of the fishing season.  Crazy traffic.  Nearly 600 miles of driving in a day.  Still, it was nice to meet readers and to hear their stories.

By Demons Possessed is out, as you no doubt know, and made the fantasy best seller list for the week.  That was a pleasant surprise.  It also got a nice review on Booklist.

Work continues on the next (last?) novel.  I'm currently trying to develop the gods of the Central Lands, who are rather different than those of Tai-tastigon and Kothifir in that a lot of them are deified or demonized ancestors.  How to fit that in with the rest of Rathiliien?  Faith still helps shape reality, but the CLs aren't much influenced by Kencyr temples.  This seems to go back to the older, pre-Kencyr pantheons and power native to this world.  I'm not quite clear on all of this yet.  The Four should figure in somehow.

New Story

I see from Damien's post to yahoo that Baen has released my Tai-tastigon free short story. https://www.baen.com/talisman It's a lead in to the new novel, due out May 7th, basically about what happens in the city before Jame comes back to it, from Cleppetty's point of view.  I'll be at Uncle Hugo's in Minneapolis May 11 signing books.  I think you can still order them there for signing and shipping.

The Podcast Bound in Pale Leather

Here's something you might enjoy.  Kathrin and her daughter Gabe have launched a series of podcasts based on my novels.  These are partly reader's guides, partly commentary, partly sheer appreciation.  They are delightfully enthusiastic, at any rate, and a boon to me since (as you know) I don't like re-reading my own work.   You can find them at

https://castbox.fm/channel/The-Podcast-Bound-In-Pale-Leather-id1853397?utm_source=website&utm_medium=dlink&utm_campaign=web_share&utm_content=The%20Podcast%20Bound%20In%20Pale%20Leather-CastBox_FM

Or at direct URL link: https://castbox.fm/channel/The-Podcast-Bound-In-Pale-Leather-id1853397?country=us

Meanwhile, I struggle on with what may well be the last novel.   I'm up to a point where the Merikit men try to take over the women's summer solstice rites.  That should be fun, right?  But my imagination seems to have gone dead.  Argh.  Any ideas?

eARC available!

Just got this notice from Baen:

By Demons Possessed by P. C. Hodgell is now available as an eARC! Download your copy here: https://www.baen.com/by-demons-possessed-earc.html

Otherwise, the trade paperback is due out May 7

Song?

This is my first shot at it, as yet not very good.  I'm just not a poet.

We’ve faced the foe in classrooms dire
We’ve met on many a lesson field.
Who stood by you on Winter’s Day?
Contrarywise, who stood by me?

Then on we went to battles new
In southern climes or on the steppe
The Karnids came, we battled same
Contrarywise, who stood by you?

New foes, new lands, now do we seek,
Honor to claim, our lords to please.
But where does that leave you and me?
Contrarywise, who stands by us?

Death and Life

Torisen (the Ragdoll cat) died sometime last night.    I found him on the floor this morning, cold and stiff, tangled up in his bedding.  I may even have heard him fall, but Domino and Theodora were pinning me down at the time and I didn't go to check.  Now i feel guilty about that.  Yes, he was 18 years old but he'd been my support and inspiration through some rough times -- the death of my father, the dementia of my mother.  He was such a sweet boy.



So now I'm trying to get back to the first chapter of the new novel and could use some poetic help.  On graduation, the randon cadets learn that they may soon meet each other in battle as mercenaries.  They sing of their past friendship and hope that they will meet again under better circumstances.  If Auld Lang Syne hadn't already been written, it would be perfect here.  Any ideas?

Oh, and this is the cover for "By Demons Possessed."  This time, I like it.

Post worldcon

Post worldcon, I'm still getting my breath back.  It was a mixed experience, and always a strain to be in such a crowd after so much time alone.  Still, I'm glad I went.  Next year, Dublin!

Now I'm back to starting the next (last?) novel.  The randon gather at Gothregor for Jame's third-year graduation and (in this version) Randiroc the weapon's master shows up.  I'm trying to think of ways in which he could be attacked, from the serious to the ludicrous.  So far, scythe-arms, ropes, belts, and pepper come to mind.  I'm open to other suggestions.

Worldcon and Snippet 3

Still here in San Jose although the convention ended an hour ago.  Tomorrow I fly home.

On the whole, it went  well.  Oh, there were little glitches, but there always are.  I think some 7,000 people showed up.  The panels I attended were good and the one with Peter S. Beagle ("Why Do Writers Kill Characters?")  was superb -- very thoughful and moving.  In general I got very positive vibes from other writers, a reminder that writing is supposed to be fun.  (So why do I find it so hard?)  My autographing and reading were both well attended.  The series panel drew a massive audience, much too big for the room.  Did it go well?  I was too stressed out to tell.  I did manage to say a few things, despite an incipient row between an older white male writer and a younger female writer sitting next to me.  Some of the questions I would have asked if I had still been moderator were brought up, but nothing about the costs of living with a long series for years.  My impression was that the others hadn't shared my experiences, not all of which have been good.  Perhaps I can do the panel again at another con with a different, more balanced slant.

Anyway, here is the third part of my reading:

Jame felt, at last, a rising twinge of anger. Her fists clenched, nails pricking into palms.
“Those who know me best do not say such things.”
He sneered, although one corner of his mouth twitched.  More dancers broke stride, looking confused.
“The Master sought immortality,” he said, his voice rising in a harangue to reclaim his followers.  “Perhaps he did not get exactly what he wanted, but why should we not? Souls are cheap.  Everybody has one.  Most will sell them for the right price.  Look at the people who first volunteered theirs for this great experiment. City lords, hill chieftains, even some from our own temple.”
“What?” said Titmouse.
“Oh yes.  Your so-called missing priests, from among those who came with me from the Riverland.  I told them the truth.  They trusted me.  Who are you to say that they did not get what they wanted?  Part of them will live forever, or at least until they run out of inferior souls on which to feed.  What are mere bodies compared to that?  The strongest survive.  Gerridon taught us that.  Do you think yourself wiser than he?”
“I think that he is a selfish moron,” said Jame, “trying to bend forces beyond his control who in turn seek to make him their creature, their one voice.”
“Blasphemy!”
He raised his hands again and brought them sharply down.  The dancing priests converged on the center, except for those who had hesitated.
Jame pushed Loogan to the wall, out of the way.
“But Gorgo…!”
“Trust me.”
The dancers circled Jame, trying to draw her into their pattern.  Turn, cup the air with a hand to gain command of it, slide forward and back with a foot to draw in power, turn again, release…. 
A blast of wind made Jame stagger.  It stank of singed power.  Oh, where was the Tishooo when she needed him?  Not in this enclosed space.
The priests were in motion again, circling, circling, and the room seemed to spin with them.
“Dance, puppet, dance!” cried Ishtier, clapping his hands.
He might have signaled the change in the Sene, from Senetha to Senethar, from dance to fight.  An acolyte sprang at Jame – she recognized him as the one who had shoved her when last she had been here.  She channeled aside his fire-leaping kick, scooped up his leg and dropped him backward on his head.
“Next?”
The high priest hastily clapped again.
The Great Dance once more gripped the room, commanding body and soul.  Jame felt it tug at her senses, but brushed it off with a wind-blowing shrug of the mind. Trinity, but she was tempted to use this game against them as she had once before (oh, so irresponsibly) to enthrall guests at the Res aB’tyrr. 
Turn, sway, reap their souls, as the Dream-weaver would have done, as she had been taught to do by golden-eyed wraiths under shadows’ eaves….
No.  That was the role for which the Master had bred her.  She was not nor would she ever be his puppet.
The swirl of dancers brought her back face to face with Titmouse.
“I don’t understand,” he said.  They mirrored each other in the Senetha that in itself mirrors the Great Dance, but on a less potent level.  “Why would the Master want you, a thief, a tavern wench?”
“Torisen Highlord is my twin brother and I am his heir.” Speak truth to this man, her instincts told her, even while caution whispered, Shanir! “Gerridon is my uncle.  Own mother was Jamethiel Dream-weaver.”
Two priests, fighting, parted them. Ishtier’s control was breaking down. Jame used water-flowing to pass between the combatants.  The high priest was screaming.  The room seemed to tilt.
Here, back, was Titmouse.
“Also, I think that I’m one of the Tyr-ridan,” she shouted at him over the uproar.
Some of the dissident priests had formed a line, arms linked, and were dancing together.  Stomp, stomp, stomp, kick; stomp, stomp, stomp, kick.
“Which one?”
“Regonereth.  That-Which-Destroys.”
“Oh.  Who are the other two?”
“Torisen and our first cousin Kindrie, whose father was Gerridon, but I don’t hold that against him.  We three are the last pure blooded Knorth.”
Titmouse stopped.  Priests bounced off his sudden wall of stillness.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Would you say such things to just anyone?”
She spoke in a startled lull, louder than she had intended.  Priests stared at her.
“What?”
Titmouse grabbed Gorgo out of his steaming bowl and stuffed him, all flailing limbs, into his pocket.  “Come on,” he said, catching Jame and Loogan each by an arm and hustling them out of the hall.
A shadowy figure leaned against the wall opposite, greeting them with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, go away,” Titmouse snarled at it, and swatted a clot of cobwebs out of his path.