R.B. Lemberg's Blog, page 52

У меня есть мысль, и я ее думаю 'I have a thought, and I am thinking it'

  shweta_narayan   has a wonderful entry on US-centric privilege, speakers of English as a second language, and boundary crossers. In part this came as a reaction to the discussion in my approrpiation thread. Comments  closed in shweta's entry and frozen in my original entry, due to spoon shortage (as both of us suffer from chronic invisible illnesses and a few other things on top of that), but this discussion needs to happen.  I hope it gets picked up by people with a somewhat greater amount of spoons.

What I wanted to add to this is that in the SFF community it seems cool at the moment for people to call themselves boundary-crossers, and many might self-identify as such, but I still feel that there is a difference between people who can one day wake up and say "fuck it, I'm tired, I'm going to fit in now" and SUCCEED, and people who had been bouncing around the world due to life circumstances, without much of a physical, linguistic or cultural anchor,  and cannot just wake up one day and decide to fit in - anywhere - with any group, mainstream or marginalized. It is a difference between having a choice and not having a choice.

Here's a sample dialog that is very much a part of my life. Sorry if you've heard it from me before.

"Where are you from?"
"Here..."
"No, where are you really from?"

I get this weekly, sometimes daily, and there is not a single place in the world where my answer of "here" would be accepted. I am starting to embrace this nomadic identity, but nomads in general don't very neatly fit into the western-civ paradigm, especially as it has been informed and shaped by nationalist ideas - and ideals.

 Just a thought.

(comments are open for now, but might get closed again - spoons).

Stone Telling release date, poem sale, and cultural appropriation

Two announcements: first. I am moving the release of Stone Telling, issue 2 to Dec.20th (five days after the original intended release) - this is mainly to give myself time to finish grading while also dealing with an ongoing health issue that has been eating my time and available spoons. Five days is not much more of a wait, I hope, but it will make my life easier indeed.

Second, I sold my poem Kytgy and Kunlelo to the September 2011 issue of Cabinet des Fees. This poem is a retelling of a Paleosiberian  folk cycle of the same name, and a first folktale retelling I did completely of my own volition. I did one other (Godfather Death), but I blame that on  upstart_crow  , who commissioned it.

As I think about Kytgy and Kunlelo, I cannot help but ponder issues of appropriation, retelling, and honoring. I do not inherit the Paleosiberian peoples, and my knowledge of Chukchi and Yupik Eskimo languages is, if not cursory , certainly not sufficient (this is not to say I don't know anything about these languages, because I do). My knowledge of Paleosiberian cultures is better than my linguistic knowledge of same, as I've been following research literature, reading the folklore (and modestly, working on research ) about these peoples for a long time.  Yet, because I am not comfortable with my knowledge of the languages, I am aware that my retelling will suffer from flaws, primarily because it is filtered through my poetic narrator - a multilingual narrator, to be sure, but not one who is a native speaker of Chukchi. Yet, I also feel that as I have a personal investment in these cultures, and as I have invested much time in studying them, and am dedicated to honoring them, I am not entirely amiss in renarrating and gently reinterpreting the pieces for a Western audience which is not at all familiar, I assume, with these tales. And yet the Italian saying traduttore traditore 'to translate is to betray' is apt in this case, as it often is.

These issues are, of course, also important to me as an editor of Stone Telling -  we actively seek multi-cultural poetry, yet the path between appropriation and respectful interpretation is at times very narrow. 

I very much welcome your thoughts on this, but please be aware that this is a kind of discussion that can easily roll down a slippery slope.  I would like to ask for your understanding and patience towards each other. And as I continue to suffer from an ongoing health issue, I also want to make an advance warning that I might close the comments if my spoons run out (although I will not delete any comments).

"Do you regret having your child with autism?"&...

"Do you regret having your child with autism?"

"How can you not regret having a child with autism?"

"It must be so hard. So depressing...." (accompanied by a grimace)

"Is that why you don't have a second child yet?"

"So if you knew what you know now, would you make the same decision (regarding childbirth)?"

Just some things I was asked in the last three days.
Just some things I never, ever want to hear again
(but I will)

And ST2 lineup

Posted over at the ST community. ST2 will be quite different in feel from ST1; where ST1 opened with a piece from Le Guin, this issue will open with a piece from Erika Peterson, who reports that "this is the first poem I've written." I have much more to say about all this, but will keep these thoughts for the introduction.

Writer's Block: Ready, steady, read

What is the best book you've read this year, and why?

View 1829 Answers

In the SFF genre, the best so far had been Nnedi Okorafor's Who Fears Death. I'm hoping to do a mini-review of this book and a few others after the second issue of Stone Telling goes live and I have a moment to breathe. 

Why I celebrate Thanksgiving

My favorite holiday is Yom Kippur.  (This is supposed to be about Thanksgiving, but please bear with me.)

When I was growing up in the Soviet Union, Yom Kippur was the only Jewish holiday left to us, because it could be celebrated quietly and without eating. Religion was forbidden, as you know, but my zeide (grandfather), may his memory be a blessing, somehow learned the date for Yom Kippur every year; we fasted with him. As a child I remember sitting with my grandpa on his little couch by the window, looking out for the first stars to end the fast. As a grown-up, I love Yom Kippur because it is a day to acknowledge everything we've done wrong, and hopefully emerge cleansed. I can get behind that.

Growing up in Soviet Union, the biggest holiday we celebrated was New Years. Even though a decorated fir-tree was involved, this holiday was completely secular. Like many other winter holidays celebrated in cold places, the Soviet New Years was about warmth and light and the company of loved ones around a loaded table; in the eighties, when many foods were scarce, New Year's was the time you got to taste champagne and oranges, and wish each other all best for the New Year. New Year's is not a native holiday for Russians; Peter the Great imported the celebration from the West as a part of his admiration for all things European, which meant refined, civilized. And the Soviets adopted it - on many a tree, a big red star served as a topping. We had a big red star as well. This Soviet New Year's wasn't my zeide's native holiday. Born in 1886, he grew up with Yom Kipper and Passover. But he was a veteran of three wars, he played his fiddle in front of Budyonny in the Civil War, had miraculously found his family during WWII - so New Year's was a holiday my zeide could get behind. Sure, he had lived a very long life and had no illusions about the Soviet regime - the regime that took all Jewish holidays (except Yom Kipper) away from him and put a secularized Christmas tree in his home - but my zeide was happy. After all, he had a home, and lights, and a full table, and his family around him. When one had starved, and lost friends, and fought in wars not of one's choosing, that is a blessing indeed.

Zeide had died years before we immigrated to Israel. With the exception of Yom Kipper, the holidays were strange to us. Israelis did not celebrate New Year's*. I remember during our first Passover my father, a die-hard atheist, hid some pitas in the fridge and kept asking if he could eat them already; this made my mother very upset. I am an observant Jew now, but these holidays, except Yom Kipper, will never be native to me. I still feel strange during Jewish holidays - a fake Jew, an imposter, laying claim to something that will never be fully mine. Because, well, my religious identity is complicated. Even though I am observant, my observance is not backed up with Orthodox belief; it is more complex. And Jewish religion, the orthodoxy, much as I enjoy many aspects of it, is also in many ways oppressive. But when one is a stranger, one adopts the holidays of the land that gave one a safe haven. That's how I feel, at least. To say no to these holidays is a privilege, and I don't feel I can quite do that.

Yet, because the Soviet New Year's is native to me, I am happier with secular holidays, holidays that let me be whatever I want to be, no matter how complex it is. In America, Thanksgiving is probably the closest one can come to that feeling - of warmth and family and food in a cold season. I can get behind the idea of giving thanks - for the blessings in one's life. I am thankful - all the more thankful because when I started out, I had nothing. Most literally, nothing. Yes, it is also a holiday that should (and really usually doesn't) acknowledge the burden of colonialism and erasure of the Native Americans. So please, let us acknowledge that suffering caused. This country is not the kindest country for many people, to say the least. It is a bit ironic that my green card letter said, "Welcome to America," even though I've lived here legally for 9 years, albeit with very few rights. I've been abused in airports before the current TSA regulations, locked into my career obstacle course will or nil, at one point I was almost deported (with my son, then 2 years old, a citizen,) because of some bureaucrat's mistake and another bureaucrat's arrogance. And yet I am grateful. Why?

- In America, I can earn a decent living. I still remember that moment when, "fresh off the boat" I walked into a Ross store and realized I could have more than two changes of clothing.

- Clothing was available in my size. I am not saying there is no fat hatred in the US - but before that I lived in the country where clothing in my size was not readily available. I was a huge sz 12 back then. Back in Israel, sellers made fun of me in stores. 

- In America, I got my Ph.D. I gave back to my program, never doubt that - I worked for a miserable salary with no benefits for many years as a TA - but I wouldn't be the same without this education, and without my adoptive academic family, my mentors and my friends, who believed that my life - our lives - as academics working with diverse cultures - are meaningful and needed.

- I am grateful for English. I am a native speaker of four languages and studied over 20 languages overall, but English is a language I finally grew comfortable writing in, and it is such a relief to finally be able to share at least a little bit of these worlds inside me with other people. I am very grateful for it.

- I am grateful for this community - for my people - with whom I can work towards not being silent or silenced, with whom I can struggle towards a greater wisdom and a greater kindness.

So as I go off to my modest Thanksgiving meal, I give you all my gratitude.

Monsterpoem update!

 So those of you who followed the adventures of the Monsterpoem might remember that I decided against sending it out (for superstitious reasons!), hoping instead that some discerning editor will just take it.  And, lo and behold, that editor is Dan Campbell ( art_ungulate  ), who is taking "Beastwoman's Snarled Rune" for the next issue of Bull Spec. Awesomeness.

"Now I'm free"

 Our permanent residency status was approved today! 

This is huge for us - after 9 years in this country as nonresident aliens.

Some things that I can do now, couldn't before:

- get a different job.  I can leave my school if the situation here becomes abusive. I can legally quit academia now if I want to. I can take that job in the industry if it is offered to me (again).

- get an additional job. I was not allowed to have a source of income in addition to the job that made me eligible for the green card. Yes, this means that I now can declare myself a writer for tax purposes; it als means I can sell nonfiction if I want to. I can write that novel and sell it (if I can) without fear of repercussions.

- travel. I have not been able to leave this country in the last 4 years. I have family overseas; my father is disabled; figure it out for yourselves :) 

- apply for academic grants. Only two major grants allow non-citizens to apply. Members of my cohort with much weaker records were getting grants while I could not compete. (though this year I missed the deadlines for two competitions I wanted to apply for, by about a week).

- get a car loan and other types of loans through a credit union. The only kind of loan I was eligible for previously was mortgage. 

- hopefully not be pulled aside as much in the airports, although that is not a given.

I think this will give you some indication as to why I was feeling like an indentured servant (I LOVE my work, but even if I hated it, I could not leave it; and I got very tired of not being able to see my family or accept any invitations to give invited talks overseas.

I still can't vote, but that will change eventually and compared to the other things on this list, not voting is relatively minor. 

So this is all very timely as finally I can have a real Thanksgiving, although it will be gluten-free and Turkey-less.

Hurray!

state of the Rose

- Got involved in an online discussion on fat acceptance I should have probably avoided, but it ended well (chez  yuki_onna  )

- the TSA/sexual assault discussions had been very, very triggery for me, but two pieces I found useful: dsmoen's and Jim Hines's.

- I checked the Amtrak rates and times from here to LA, and it's just under 40 hrs each way. Price is affordable, but can I find the time? (this is for a possible work trip in early 2011).

- editing / ST work: I am a very hands-on editor; I knew this already but I think this time I am doing a better job? I hope. 

- also very happy w. poems accepted so far. And I'm pondering the hold list! Some editors make fast decisions, but I am an editorial tortoise. It takes me at least 5 rereadings, usually more to make a decision on maybe-poems. I also use the spontaneous memorization test - do I remember bits and pieces of these poems after rereadings? 

- poets, how useful are conversations about craft for you? I do not want to drive away potential submitters, but I also learned some more about what works and what doesn't work for me, and why.

- as a part of an ongoing conversation with  art_ungulate  , found a recipe for zdravur (a magical health drink one of my pagan/chemistry Ph.D acquaintances used to brew back in Israel). I cannot brew it, but if Dan can, this will be pretty darn amazing.

- suddenly I have more stories than poems on submission; this is very unusual, perhaps even unprecedented? I also noticed that I think my poems (and stories) are strong when they are on submission, but immediately after they sell I get the feeling that they are crap. Wondering if I'm "snatching defeat from the jaws of victory," as  time_shark  suggested.


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Stone Telling submissions reminder - one week!

Hello everyone,

This is just to remind you that there's only a week left till the Stone Telling submission window closes. Please send me more poetry! Let's make Iss. 2 as fabulous as Iss. 1 :)

Editorial address is poetry at stonetelling dot com

cheers,
Rose