Tuesday, 15 March 2011

New Gene Wolfe short story in the upcoming anthology Ghosts by Gaslight

SF Signal just posted the table of contents for an upcoming anthology: Ghosts by Gaslight: Stories of Steampunk and Supernatural Suspense, edited by Jack Dann and Nick Gevers. The book, which will be published by HarperCollins and released in September, includes a new story from Gene Wolfe, who is well familiar with writing ghost stories. From the HarperCollins website:
They are the stories that have enthralled and terrified readers for generations, tales of the supernatural featuring haunted houses, phantoms beneath the floorboards, ghostly coachmen, figures in the carpet, ghosts in the machine, foggy, gaslit streets. In this mesmerizing collection, renowned editors Jack Dann and Nick Gevers bring together fresh modern feats of the phantasmagoric in the grand tradition of such classics as Henry James’s "The Turn of the Screw," Robert Louis Stevenson’s "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and Edgar Allan Poe’s "The Tell-Tale Heart."

Award-winning and bestselling authors, including Peter Beagle, Sean Williams, Gene Wolfe, Garth Nix, and Robert Silverberg, weave their magic in tales abrim with deep frights, shuddering chills, disquieting subtlety, shocking psychological ambiguity, and radical twists on all the classic ghostly elements. Here, too, in all their gothic glory are the eerie mechanisms of steampunk, engines waiting to entrap, magnify, or focus the souls of the dead . . .

Revitalizing the Victorian and Edwardian ghost story for twenty-first century readers, Ghosts by Gaslight reminds us that within the darkness lurk not only our most profound fears, but also unsuspected horrors from within ourselves.
Sounds like a great collection! Wolfe's story will be titled "Why I Was Hanged." You can check out the full list of stories on the SF Signal post or on the HarperCollins website.

Thursday, 10 March 2011

New library acquisition: Encounter with Tiber

Who knew that Buzz Aldrin, the second man on the moon, had co-authored a science fiction novel? I had no idea until a couple of days ago, when my library's Rare Books Librarian showed me one of the latest additions to our science fiction collection: Encounter with Tiber by Buzz Aldrin and John Barnes. And the best thing? It's signed by Aldrin! Also, there's a foreword by Arthur C. Clarke. Wow. I was almost totally freaking out in a moment of super nerdishness. A New York Times review and synopsis of the novel is linked to on Aldrin's website.


Sunday, 6 March 2011

How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe

I just finished Charles Yu's How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe, and I can hardly express how much I loved it. The story follows a time machine repair man, also named Charles Yu, who lives in a "science fictional universe" called Minor Universe 31. During the course of the novel, he becomes trapped in a time loop and must figure out how to escape it, all the while dealing with hangups on his childhood in a dysfunctional family. The book is prologued by the following paraphrased excerpt from the text, which hooked me immediately:
When it happens, this is what happens: I shoot myself.
     Not, you know, my self self. I shoot my future self. He steps out of a time machine, introduces himself as Charles Yu. What else am I supposed to do? I kill him. I kill my own future.
As the same time, though, I'm not sure it's a book for everyone. Some of the things I loved the most could well be despised by other readers. The narrator's frequent philosophising on metaphysics, ontology, time, and the nature of human memory and relationships could come off as self-indulgent ramblings that don't further the plot. For me, however, they made the book. They also make the protagonist a very interesting and well-developed character. An example of one of the book's great lines: "Most people I know live their lives moving in a constant forward direction, the whole time looking backward" (22).

The narrator's reflections on loneliness and isolation, his frequent comparisons of past and future to regret and anxiety, could come off as being unnecessarily negative and depressing, but perhaps they just appealed to my inner emo, because reading the narrator's struggles with these negative thoughts and emotions (regret over his childhood relationship with his father, and anxiety about ever seeing his father again, etc) gave the book a very human element, making it more about human relationships than time travel per se.

The book is also beautifully written, and even those sentences that 10-20 lines long flow wonderfully. There are frequent references to other science fiction stories and to nerd culture in general, and the novel often moves into the realm of meta-fictional self-reflection. I loved both of these aspects of the text, and in my mind its relatively short length, of a little over 200 pages, was ideal, since it didn't allow the book's unique style, blending sf with metaphysics and meta-fiction, to outstay its welcome.

Perhaps the book appeals to me because I've studies math, physics, sf literature, narratology and philosophy. Perhaps it's just because I'm a massive nerd. Either way, I would certainly side with the glowing five-star review the book received from Andrew Liptak on SF Signal, and agree wholeheartedly with his closing paragraph:
How To Live Safely is an exemplary example of storytelling in the genre, where story and characters come together to bring about a story of revelation, and one that is both thought provoking and touching. Yu, working through himself, paints a lonely, troubled existence, one with much baggage that he slowly works out over the course of the story. Here, time travel is the perfect medium for looking over past, rather than the future. [SF Signal]

I just really, really, really wish I could have this one-of-a-kind copy of the book, which mirrors the book as it is described in the book, and was given away by Wired.com last year:

The Book from Nowhere.
Developed by Andy Hughes of Random House’s Knopf publishing group

Friday, 4 March 2011

The Little Bookroom

When my wife and I were in the city yesterday we came across a beautiful new bookshop we'd heard some friends at uni talking about: The Little Bookroom on Degraves Street. The Little Bookroom is a small independent bookshop specialising in children's literature; their main branch is in Carlton North. My wife studied children's literature as part of her English major, and we've both studied fairy tales, so we have quite a collection of illustrated children's books on our bookshelves at home.

The Little Bookroom, Degraves Street, Melbourne

We saw some absolutely beautiful books there, including some incredible limited printings of Jules Verne's Around the World in 80 Days and the complete Beatrix Potter, but my favourite collectible was on display at the front of the store: a limited edition of Shaun Tan's The Arrival, housed in a unique briefcase with a book of sketches and a signed print from the book. If I had five hundred disposable dollars I'd have bought it right there, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. Oh well. My wife and I do, however, have signed first editions of a number of Tan's books, including The Arrival, and we had the pleasure of meeting him at Aussiecon 4 last year (my wife also met him when he gave a talk at Monash University a few years earlier). Tan's short film The Lost Thing, which we got to see at Aussiecon 4 and now have on DVD, just won an Oscar.

Limited edition of Shaun Tan's The Arrival

Tuesday, 1 March 2011

“King Rat” and the abuse of women in Gene Wolfe’s stories

I am holding off posting about Wolfe’s latest novel, Home Fires, because I want to receive my copy of the PS Publishing edition (with its introduction by Alastair Reynolds) before doing so. So I thought that, in the mean time, I would do a series of posts on the three short stories Wolfe had published in 2010: “King Rat” (in Gateways: A Feast of Great New Science Fiction Honoring Grand Master Frederik Pohl, edited by Elizabeth Anne Hull), “Bloodsport” (in Swords & Dark Magic, edited by Jonathan Strahan and Lou Anders), and “Leif in the Wind” (in Stories, edited by Neil Gaiman and Al Sarrantonio).


In terms of genre, “King Rat” falls somewhere between the sword and sorcery fantasy setting of “Bloodsport” and the hard sf setting of “Leif in the Wind”, taking place in what seems to be a far distant post-apocalyptic future.

The story begins with the protagonist-narrator leaving his ruined city and sneaking aboard a massive alien spaceship, the main body of which seems to have been outfitted with a small, self-sufficient eco-system, with open fields and running streams surrounded by tall cliffs. (It is unclear why these aliens built such a spaceship, and whether or not they know that humans have been sneaking aboard and living there.) There he lives, just trying to survive, and even has a female companion stay with him for a while. For some time he stays near the cliffs of the spaceship, where he discovered a hidden door that allows him entrance to the ship’s corridors and storage holds. Near the end of the story the protagonist teams up with a young lion to take down the leader of a group of humans, thereby becoming king.

Throughout the story the narrator encounters a number of strange animals, and we are constantly trying to figure out the bizarre natures of these animals. What the narrator calls ‘spiders’ are clearly aliens, and probably received that name because of their eight eyes and eight legs, although they would seem to be roughly human sized. These aliens use modified, controllable elephants for labour. The narrator also describes multiple encounters with lions that seem to be intelligent and capable of speech, although they otherwise look and act like normal lions.

But the story is first and foremost about human nature and the human condition. Just as we are asking, “what are the natures of these animals?” we must also ask, “what are the natures of these humans?” And the human race does not fare well. The narrator, like most of the other people in the story, is treacherous, violent, cannibalistic, and an absolute misogynist.


Particularly given the way the story ends (and I'll get to that later), I feel I should say something here about the representation of women in this story and, to a lesser degree, in Wolfe’s work in general. The other day I was reading a heated GoodReads message board discussion on whether or not Wolfe is a rampant woman-hating misogynist that advocates the rape, torture, and general abuse of all women everywhere. The supposed evidence for this was the horrible mistreatment of women in Severian’s society on Urth in The Book of the New Sun, in which we have somewhat graphic descriptions of the rape, torture, executions, and general subjugation of women. Wolfe’s detractors took these scenes and aspects of the society, and the narrator’s passive endorsement of them, as evidence of his endorsement of the mistreatment of women, and hence of his misogyny (see message 1).

Of course, the entire argument is based on the false assumption that authors necessarily endorse everything they describe in their stories, and that narrators are always mouthpieces of their writers. That is not true of most sophisticated authors, and certainly not true of Wolfe (see message 7). Thus the argument progressed to adamant declarations that society was meant to have moved on from including such ugly things as rape and torture in literature, and that Wolfe’s writing is not literature anyway, but rather “pulp, fantasy Sci-Fi” (message 16 – also read the great responses in message 17 and message 23). Sigh.

Anyway, let me use some anecdotal and textual evidence to illustrate why it is important to consider context when reading such scenes, so as not to mistake condemnation for endorsement. One evening, a few years ago, a friend and I were watching the Richard Dawkins documentary The Root of All Evil? (later re-titled The God Delusion) on TV. In it, Dawkins argues that the world would be better off without religion, and as part of his argument he attempts to prove that the Old Testament, as an important part of Jewish, Christian and Muslim faiths, contains poisonous incitements to (and justifications of) gross violence and misogyny (see also chapter seven of his book The God Delusion). He does this by citing Judges 19:22-30, which describes the group rape and beating of a female concubine, and her subsequent death and dismemberment. The next day my friend and I attended a lecture for our history/literature unit “The World of the Bible: Text and Context,” in which the lecturer, having also watched the documentary the night before, tore apart Dawkins's terrible misinterpretation of the text. He emphasized the importance of taking the text in context, and not taking the passive narration of the events (and almost all of the historical books of the Bible are narrated in such a way) as an endorsement of them. He explained that reason the passage chosen by Dawkins appears towards the end of the book of Judges is because that book is meant to illustrate the increasing degradation and unraveling of society, to the point that the people needed a king to guide them. The events of Judges are a progression from bad to worse, and the horrible mistreatment of women is the worst point society reaches before all-out civil war in Judges 20-21. Indeed, the book closes reiterating its most repeated words: “In those days there was no King in Israel. Everyone did what was right in his own eyes” (Judges 21:25). The entire point of the graphic rape and violence in Judges 19 was to show how far society had fallen and how badly the people needed guidance – it was certainly not an endorsement of the actions being described, but rather a condemnation of them.


As in the text discussed above, Wolfe’s description of the mistreatment and subjugation of women in Severian’s society (and by Severian himself) should not be taken as Wolfe’s personal endorsement of it, any more than his descriptions of cannibalism and public executions (also done by Severian) should be taken as endorsements of those actions. Rather, it should be read as further evidence of just how far human society had fallen by the time the story begins; evidence that the post-apocalyptic Urth is a dystopian place of horrible violence and perversion (and not just violence against women, for men are also raped, tortured and abused in the story, although, on the whole, women certainly do fare worse in the intentionally backward society of Severian’s Commonwealth). Just as J. G. Ballard is not endorsing the truly twisted, violent perversions described in novels such as Crash and High-Rise, Wolfe is not endorsing the mistreatment of women depicted in The Book of the New Sun.

Wolfe generally avoids using his protagonists or narrators to proclaim his own beliefs, but the closest he comes to creating and using such a mouthpiece may well be Patera Silk, the protagonist of The Book of the Long Sun. In Silk, Wolfe set out to depict a truly good man, and has acknowledged that Silk’s values tend to reflect his own (see the interview with Lawrence Person). When Silk sees a man hit a defenseless woman in Orchid’s brothel in Nightside of the Long Sun, he is infuriated and has to hold himself back from killing the man on the spot, clearly showing revulsion for the man’s mistreatment of the woman. The most sexist statements of the book (which took me aback when I first read them) are made by the wicked Councilor Loris in Lake of the Long Sun, and Loris is a character who clearly represents immorality rather than morality, and who, appropriately, is killed shortly after his misogynistic rant.

Returning to “King Rat,” we find a first-person narrator who describes all kinds of degraded acts being done by people to one another, including cannibalism. After describing how he became king by killing the previous king, Kazi, he tells his daughter (to whom he is narrating) what happened to his wives, and gives her some final advice before sending her off to bed:
Kazi’d had two wives and I took them over, only a river lizard got one by the leg and drowned her. It’s how they do. The other one got to giving me a hard time, so we ate her. After that I remembered your mom [abandoned earlier in the story] and went back for her. Now I want you to remember all this stuff and think about it before you sleep. You’re going to have to teach your own kids how I got to be king and why you’re queen, see? I know you think your kids are far away, but guys see your tits already. You pick a good one. He doesn’t have to be big, but he’s got to be tough, and he’s got to be somebody who’ll stick by you. If he isn’t I’ll off him if I’m still around. If I’m not, you’ll have to off him yourself. Quick. (256-7)
The lightheartedness with which the narrator describes his acquired wives as property is bad enough, but the subsequent blasé descriptions of one being killed by a lizard and the other being cannibalised for getting on his nerves are shocking to the core. His final words of advice to his daughter, vulgar and murderous, also reveal him to be awfully hypocritical: he became king not from being tough, but from making a deal with a young lion; he didn’t “stick by” his daughter’s mother, but left her alone and forgot about her for months, if not years.

The final words of the narrator’s story are horrific – and that's the point. We are meant to be horrified by the sordid nature of this man, by his terrible mistreatment of his wives and his daughter’s mother. It is exactly that dark side of humanity – the inhumanity of people – that we are forced to reflect on. In the end, the nature of the man who became king is revealed in full: he truly is the king rat.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to argue that Wolfe is a feminist, just that he isn’t the woman-hating misogynist that some would make him out to be. I will have more to say on Wolfe’s representation of women when I discuss Home Fires, but suffice to say here that I do believe that when it comes to gender roles in society (and a number of other issues), Wolfe tends to adopt more conservative, if perhaps a bit out-dated, approaches. That, however, doesn’t change the fact that he is an incredible author. An author held by many, including myself, to be the greatest science fiction author alive. Or maybe ever. Yeah, ever sounds right.