The Persistence of Vision

Out Of the World of the Unapparent Dead

Jun 032010

Long time since I’ve written. Even my handwritten journal, which I’ve kept off and on for the last twenty years, has suffered for the last month. I’ve just been…so…tired. Just existing, and taking care of my family, has used every ounce of energy I can summon. And, as far as I can see, there’s no end in sight.

Mostly this is due to the hypothyroidism that made itself known in April of this year. This was followed in May by another surprise. After feeling yucky and nauseated for days, I decided to take a pregnancy test so I could rule that out before I called my doctor for a visit, and, lo and behold. So, here we are. Between the little one growing inside me and the thyroid crapping out thing, I’m having serious fatigue issues. Hopefully, my medication will get straightened out soon. In the meantime, I’m plowing through, with a lot of help from my family, and waiting for the day when I can make it 12 hours without a nap.

Writing has been going, though slowly (see above). I’m almost to the end of chapter eight, though in reading over the whole thing I’m finding I may end up either expanding or consolidating some previous chapters. I’d like to finish my first draft by the end of summer, so I’m trying to work as much as possible, given my physical limitations. It’s coming along though, and even though it’s a sucky, sucky first draft, I’m proud of it.

My daughter Kate has been working on growing her first garden this spring. An avowed carnivore, she won’t eat any of the vegetables, but she’s fascinated by life and the processes of nature. As for me, I’m happy to pass on the knowledge that was passed to me as a child by generations of Southern gardeners. In March she decided to enter her efforts in the local 4-H garden contest, and two days ago the judges came to look at her little plot. I was so proud as she led them to the backyard, showing off her veggies and explaining all the work she’d put into it. Yesterday afternoon we attended a little award ceremony at the local extension office, and found out she’d placed second int he elementary category. I was so proud of her, mostly because this is the first time she’s had to work at a long-term project, months in the making, to see some results. She stuck it out, though, and I’m very glad she did. She spent the evening plotting what she’d do with the $15 prize money, which will probably go to some great cause like candy or a plastic toy. Even so, she’s still my little girl, and I’m thankful beyond measure for that.

Book Review 1 Response »

Apr 262010

Last night I finished Horns by Joe Hill, an author I discovered a year or so ago, though he’s apparently been a fairly big deal in the world of comics for some time now as the author of the Locke and Key series. I haven’t read Locke and Key, though I loved his first collection of short stories, 20th Century Ghosts, and liked, though didn’t love, his first novel, Heart-Shaped Box. I think he has a lot of promise as a speculative fiction novelist – a good narrative voice, strong characters, and the ability to create a wonderfully creepy vibe that keeps the reader immersed in his stories. When I read last year that he had a new novel releasing in the spring, I was eager to check it out.

The book has a groovy premise – a guy wakes up after a night of drunken carousing to find that he’s grown horns and inherited the powers of a demon. When he touches someone, their deepest, darkest sins and desires are revealed, and in his presence, people confess to their most depraved fantasies. He can command snakes. I mean, did you hear that? He can command snakes. For me, a life-long lover of fantastic fiction, this was basically one of those, ‘you had me at hello’ moments.

And I liked it, I really did, though probably not as much as I could have, or as much as I wanted to.

The protagonist, Iggy Perrish, is a likeable guy. He always tries to do the right thing: He goes to church regularly, is faithful to his high school sweetheart-girlfriend, volunteers for charities, and seems to be liked by pretty much everyone. He’s the stereotypical ‘boy next door,’ and I guess maybe when it comes down to it that’s really my biggest criticism. Iggy is too nice. In the book he’s believed to have committed a horrible crime by everyone around him, even though his character has never so much as crossed the street without the light. It’s never clear, exactly, why the Devil chose him to get this little gift, other than to get the chance to set things right. No real evil is done and no real evil is revealed, except in the thoughts (and sometimes deeds) of the people around him. To the end, horns, fire and all, Iggy remains a great guy, looking out for everyone around him, using his powers for…well, I won’t reveal that, but you get the point. I’m not sure I can exactly put my finger on it, really, but the entire time I was reading it, the book seemed like it was almost there, brushing the edges of greatness, on the verge of revealing some hidden secret about the nature of mankind and our relationship with evil and how the Devil works. Instead I was left wondering, why? What was in it for Lucifer? Why, of all the wrongs done to innocent people, of all the good guys who somehow can’t win, why was Iggy Perrish chosen?

I give Horns four stars because it was a good, fun read, but I wish I could have given it five. It could have been great.

Spring at Arcadia Farm

Gardening 1 Response »

Apr 092010

Here are a few photographs from yesterday, when I went down to Arcadia to finish up the final paint job in the first bedroom we are renovating. A spring cool front had come through the night before along with some passing showers, washing away the dust and pollen and leaving the air crisp and clear. The azaleas, which for most of the year are fairly unassuming shrubs, have burst into color, like torches of purple and red flame staked into the ground. I walked around for a good half hour, breathing in the clean air and marveling at the loveliness of the place. The photos only give a glimpse of the gardens’ beauty:

Instructions

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Apr 092010

Filler

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Apr 062010

As I am working on this %$#% novel, and in the absence of any real content, have a LOLCat:

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

2010 Hugo Nominations Announced

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Apr 052010

From AussieCon4 – home of the 2010 World Science Fiction Convention:

BEST NOVEL (699 nominating ballots)

Boneshaker by Cherie Priest (Tor)
The City & The City by China Miéville (Del Rey; Macmillan UK)
Julian Comstock: A Story of 22nd-Century America by Robert Charles Wilson (Tor)
Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente (Bantam Spectra)
Wake by Robert J. Sawyer (Ace; Penguin; Gollancz; Analog)
The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi (Night Shade)

BEST NOVELLA (375 nominating ballots)

“Act One” by Nancy Kress (Asimov’s 3/09)
The God Engines by John Scalzi (Subterranean)
“Palimpsest” by Charles Stross (Wireless; Ace; Orbit)
Shambling Towards Hiroshima by James Morrow (Tachyon)
“Vishnu at the Cat Circus” by Ian McDonald (Cyberabad Days; Pyr; Gollancz)
The Women of Nell Gwynne’s by Kage Baker (Subterranean)

BEST NOVELETTE (402 nominating ballots)

“Eros, Philia, Agape” by Rachel Swirsky (Tor.com 3/09)
“The Island” by Peter Watts (The New Space Opera 2; Eos)
“It Takes Two” by Nicola Griffith (Eclipse Three; Night Shade Books)
“One of Our Bastards is Missing” by Paul Cornell (The Solaris Book of New Science Fiction: Volume Three; Solaris)
“Overtime“ by Charles Stross (Tor.com 12/09)
“Sinner, Baker, Fabulist, Priest; Red Mask, Black Mask, Gentleman, Beast” by Eugie Foster (Interzone 2/09)

BEST SHORT STORY (432 nominating ballots)

“The Bride of Frankenstein” by Mike Resnick (Asimov’s 12/09)
“Bridesicle” by Will McIntosh (Asimov’s 1/09)
“The Moment” by Lawrence M. Schoen (Footprints; Hadley Rille Books)
“Non-Zero Probabilities” by N.K. Jemisin (Clarkesworld 9/09)
“Spar” by Kij Johnson (Clarkesworld 10/09)

BEST RELATED WORK (259 nominating ballots)

Canary Fever: Reviews by John Clute (Beccon)
Hope-In-The-Mist: The Extraordinary Career and Mysterious Life of Hope Mirrlees by Michael Swanwick (Temporary Culture)
The Inter-Galactic Playground: A Critical Study of Children’s and Teens’ Science Fiction by Farah Mendlesohn (McFarland)
On Joanna Russ edited by Farah Mendlesohn (Wesleyan)
The Secret Feminist Cabal: A Cultural History of SF Feminisms by Helen Merrick (Aqueduct)
This is Me, Jack Vance! (Or, More Properly, This is “I”) by Jack Vance (Subterranean)

BEST GRAPHIC STORY (221 nominating ballots)

Batman: Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader? Written by Neil Gaiman; Pencilled by Andy Kubert; Inked by Scott Williams (DC Comics)
Captain Britain And MI13. Volume 3: Vampire State Written by Paul Cornell; Pencilled by Leonard Kirk with Mike Collins, Adrian Alphona and Ardian Syaf (Marvel Comics)
Fables Vol 12: The Dark Ages Written by Bill Willingham; Pencilled by Mark Buckingham; Art by Peter Gross & Andrew Pepoy, Michael Allred, David Hahn; Colour by Lee Loughridge & Laura Allred; Letters by Todd Klein (Vertigo Comics)
Girl Genius, Volume 9: Agatha Heterodyne and the Heirs of the Storm Written by Kaja and Phil Foglio; Art by Phil Foglio; Colours by Cheyenne Wright (Airship Entertainment)
Schlock Mercenary: The Longshoreman of the Apocalypse Written and Illustrated by Howard Tayler

BEST DRAMATIC PRESENTATION – LONG FORM (541 nominating ballots)

Avatar Screenplay and Directed by James Cameron (Twentieth Century Fox)
District 9 Screenplay by Neill Blomkamp & Terri Tatchell; Directed by Neill Blomkamp (TriStar Pictures)
Moon Screenplay by Nathan Parker; Story by Duncan Jones; Directed by Duncan Jones (Liberty Films)
Star Trek Screenplay by Robert Orci & Alex Kurtzman; Directed by J.J. Abrams (Paramount)
Up Screenplay by Bob Peterson & Pete Docter; Story by Bob Peterson, Pete Docter, & Thomas McCarthy; Directed by Bob Peterson & Pete Docter (Disney/Pixar)

BEST DRAMATIC PRESENTATION – SHORT FORM (282 nominating ballots)

Doctor Who: “The Next Doctor” Written by Russell T Davies; Directed by Andy Goddard (BBC Wales)
Doctor Who: “Planet of the Dead” Written by Russell T Davies & Gareth Roberts; Directed by James Strong (BBC Wales)
Doctor Who: “The Waters of Mars” Written by Russell T Davies & Phil Ford; Directed by Graeme Harper (BBC Wales)
Dollhouse: “Epitaph 1″ Story by Joss Whedon; Written by Maurissa Tancharoen & Jed Whedon; Directed by David Solomon (Mutant Enemy)
FlashForward: “No More Good Days” Written by Brannon Braga & David S. Goyer; Directed by David S. Goyer; based on the novel by Robert J. Sawyer (ABC)

BEST EDITOR, LONG FORM (289 nominating ballots)

Lou Anders
Ginjer Buchanan
Liz Gorinsky
Patrick Nielsen Hayden
Juliet Ulman

BEST EDITOR, SHORT FORM (419 nominating ballots)

Ellen Datlow
Stanley Schmidt
Jonathan Strahan
Gordon Van Gelder
Sheila Williams

BEST PROFESSIONAL ARTIST (327 nominating ballots)

Bob Eggleton
Stephan Martiniere
John Picacio
Daniel Dos Santos
Shaun Tan

BEST SEMIPROZINE (377 nominating ballots)

Ansible edited by David Langford
Clarkesworld edited by Neil Clarke, Sean Wallace, & Cheryl Morgan
Interzone edited by Andy Cox
Locus edited by Charles N. Brown, Kirsten Gong-Wong, & Liza Groen Trombi
Weird Tales edited by Ann VanderMeer & Stephen H. Segal

BEST FAN WRITER (319 nominating ballots)

Claire Brialey
Christopher J Garcia
James Nicoll
Lloyd Penney
Frederik Pohl

BEST FANZINE (298 nominating ballots)

Argentus edited by Steven H Silver
Banana Wings edited by Claire Brialey and Mark Plummer
CHALLENGER edited by Guy H. Lillian III
Drink Tank edited by Christopher J Garcia, with guest editor James Bacon
File 770 edited by Mike Glyer
StarShipSofa edited by Tony C. Smith

BEST FAN ARTIST (199 nominating ballots)

Brad W. Foster
Dave Howell
Sue Mason
Steve Stiles
Taral Wayne

THE JOHN W. CAMPBELL AWARD FOR BEST NEW WRITER (NOT A HUGO AWARD) (356 nominating ballots)

Saladin Ahmed
Gail Carriger
Felix Gilman *
Seanan McGuire
Lezli Robyn *
* Second year of eligibility

I’ve only read a few of the nominated works this year, but I will say that I hope Palimpsest by Catherynne M. Valente wins best novel. I read it about six months ago, and I still think about it from time to time. I love Valente’s lyrical writing style – it’s almost like reading prose poetry, and it’s very much a part of what makes the novel work so beautifully. It’s also…different. As in, defies categorization different. It could be called fantasy, I suppose, but it’s not sword and sorcery by a long shot. It’s something else entirely – otherworldly and dark, sensual and seductive, pawing at the edges of reality. Palimpsest is a story that leaves its mark on you, and I won’t forget about it any time soon.

I also enjoyed Rachel Swirsky’s “Eros, Philia, Agape”, a sad, haunting story that reminded me of Asimov’s “Bicentennial Man.” Good science fiction is not only about imagining what technology will be like in the future, but how that technology will impact us as human beings, and what the power of becoming gods in our own small universe will mean. A very good read, particularly if you like stories about AI.

Of course, in the Graphic story category, I have to go with “Batman – Whatever Happened to the Caped Crusader?” by Neil Gaiman. With what seems like no effort at all, he takes a story we think we all know, and creates something both beautifully new and poignantly familiar. I can admit I cried at the end of this one, and that’s a rare thing for me these days.

I'm An Adult

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Mar 092010

Andy Samberg – I Threw it On The Ground – watch more funny videos

At Last

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Mar 092010

Forsythia

Warmth. Signs of spring. I love that my birthday falls during this time, that every year the Earth comes alive again just at the moment I am turning a year older. This is like New Year’s for me, screw that January 1st business. And you know, if you were running low on useless trivia for the day, March was originally celebrated by the Romans as the New Year, when lots of grand festivals were held and troops marched off to war (March is named for the Roman god of war, Mars). September was originally the seventh month, hence “Sept”, “Oct”, “Nov”, Dec”, etc. Julius Caesar moved it back, later on. Something about the innacuracies of the lunar calendar. Whatever. I’m sticking with March.

In any case, the weather made it possible to head down to the farm again on Sunday. Inside the house I painted one of the bedroom ceilings while my sister sorted and boxed years of keepsakes, clothes, and junk. Outside I was able to clean up a few flower beds and plant somewhere around 15 or so azaleas, butterfly bushes, shade perennials, and an herb or two. The LOML continued with the old fence removal, a herculaean task that hopefully will be finished up this summer. As usual, there were beautiful flowers in bloom everywhere. The camellia japonicas are at their peak, joined by early season snowdrops, forsythia, daffodils, and narcissus (yes I know they’re taxonomically the same thing). Pictures after the cut.

In other news, the novel is treking along. 1000 more words yesterday, hopefully a pace I can keep up all week. Right now our heroine is deep in the bowels of Hell, having a little fireside chat with the big man himself. Trouble is brewing. “No fear,” Satan whispers. No fear.

And speaking of Satan, yesterday my shiny, new, signed copy of Joe Hill’s latest, Horns, arrived in the mail. I’d ordered it from The Signed Page, so it came inscribed with a cool little drawing. Happy, happy, squee! For those of you who don’t know, Joe Hill is Stephen King’s son, author of a couple of books now along with an outstanding short story collection. A fine, fine spec fiction writer in his own right. In some ways, I actually prefer his work to his dad’s, as he explores a wider range of themes than his father does. Very cool. I’ll probably devour it over the weekend.

And now, as promised, some photography. All cultivar names, incidentally, are just guesses. My mom bought and planted what she loved, but she wasn’t a big record keeper:

Your Nifty Photo of the Day

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Mar 042010

While waiting on pins and needles for Teh Springs to arrive, I thought of this.

Multnomah Falls, Oregon. June, 2007

Nice memories.

This work by Lynette Mejia is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.

Relics

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Mar 022010

This flower that smells of honey and the sea,
White laurustine, seems in my hand to be
A white star made of memory long ago
Lit in the heaven of dear times dead to me.

A star out of the skies love used to know
Here held in hand, a stray left yet to show
What flowers my heart was full of in the days
That are long since gone down dead memory’s flow.

Dead memory that revives on doubtful ways,
Half hearkening what the buried season says
Out of the world of the unapparent dead
Where the lost Aprils are, and the lost Mays.

Flower, once I knew thy star-white brethren bred
Nigh where the last of all the land made head
Against the sea, a keen-faced promontory,
Flowers on salt wind and sprinkled sea-dews fed.

Their hearts were glad of the free place’s glory;
The wind that sang them all his stormy story
Had talked all winter to the sleepless spray,
And as the sea’s their hues were hard and hoary.

Like things born of the sea and the bright day,
They laughed out at the years that could not slay,
Live sons and joyous of unquiet hours,
And stronger than all storms that range for prey.

And in the close indomitable flowers
A keen-edged odour of the sun and showers
Was as the smell of the fresh honeycomb
Made sweet for mouths of none but paramours.

Out of the hard green wall of leaves that clomb
They showed like windfalls of the snow-soft foam,
Or feathers from the weary south-wind’s wing,
Fair as the spray that it came shoreward from.

And thou, as white, what word hast thou to bring?
If my heart hearken, whereof wilt thou sing?
For some sign surely thou too hast to bear,
Some word far south was taught thee of the spring.

White like a white rose, not like these that were
Taught of the wind’s mouth and the winter air,
Poor tender thing of soft Italian bloom,
Where once thou grewest, what else for me grew there?

Born in what spring and on what city’s tomb,
By whose hand wast thou reached, and plucked for whom?
There hangs about thee, could the soul’s sense tell,
An odour as of love and of love’s doom.

Of days more sweet than thou wast sweet to smell,
Of flower-soft thoughts that came to flower and fell,
Of loves that lived a lily’s life and died,
Of dreams now dwelling where dead roses dwell.

O white birth of the golden mountain-side
That for the sun’s love makes its bosom wide
At sunrise, and with all its woods and flowers
Takes in the morning to its heart of pride!

Thou hast a word of that one land of ours,
And of the fair town called of the Fair Towers,
A word for me of my San Gimignan,
A word of April’s greenest-girdled hours.

Of the old breached walls whereon the wallflowers ran
Called of Saint Fina, breachless now of man,
Though time with soft feet break them stone by stone,
Who breaks down hour by hour his own reign’s span.

Of the old cliff overcome and overgrown
That all that flowerage clothed as flesh clothes bone,
That garment of acacias made for May,
Whereof here lies one witness overblown.

The fair brave trees with all their flowers at play,
How king-like they stood up into the day!
How sweet the day was with them, and the night!
Such words of message have dead flowers to say.

This that the winter and the wind made bright,
And this that lived upon Italian light,
Before I throw them and these words away,
Who knows but I what memories too take flight?

-Algernon Charles Swinburne

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