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Best Books of 2010
Top 10 Books: Science Fiction & Fantasy

Welcome to our Best of 2010 top 10 lists for Science Fiction & Fantasy. We've put our editors' picks and our 2010 bestsellers for each category on the same page together, so you can easily compare. Click on "Editors' Picks" (or "Editors' Picks: Kindle eBooks") to see our choices for the best science fiction and fantasy of 2010, including our top pick, Michal Ajvaz's The Golden Age. And click on "Customer Favorites" to find the bestselling science fiction and fantasy at Amazon.com during 2010. (Ranked according to customer orders through October. Only books published for the first time in 2010 are eligible.) See more editors' picks and customers' favorites in our Best of 2010 Store.

Editors' picks

1. The Golden Age (Czech Literature Series) by Michal Ajvaz
2. How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe: A Novel by Charles Yu
3. Redemption in Indigo: a novel by Karen Lord
4. The Half-Made World by Felix Gilman
5. The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, Book 1 (The Inheritance Trilogy) by N. K. Jemisin
6. The Orange Eats Creeps by Grace Krilanovich
7. The Dream of Perpetual Motion (Playaway Adult Fiction) by Dexter Clarence Palmer
8. Who Fears Death by Nnedi Okorafor
9. The Fixed Stars: Thirty-Seven Emblems for the Perilous Season by Brian Conn
10. Kill the Dead: A Sandman Slim Novel by Richard Kadrey

Na moju sramotu ali za 1, 3, 6, 9 i 10 nikad cuo, i to za pisce, o knjigama i da ne govorimo.

Customer's favorites su  #6 je valjda najmanji u seriji.

Za Kedrija si bre čuo - pričali smo ti, ja i Zak o njemu, ako nisam sanjao. Da l' ga je beše Boban objavio svojevremeno? Pre neki dan pročitao sam Sandman Slim-a i uopšte nisam impresioniran. Teško da je nastavak te knjige jedno od deset najboljih dela ove ili bilo koje godine. N. K. Jemisin je hajpovana do bola, ali ništa novo niti bogznakako originalno nije donela, sem što je crnkinja. Njena proza mi je otprilike na nivou romana Trudi Kanavan - dakle, ništa nadahnuto, vispreno niti ne znam koliko originalno. U suštini, prosečno, pa čak ne ni mnogo zanimljivo. 2, 3, 4 i 7 čekam da mi stignu, a za ostalo - sem onoga što sam pomenuo - nisam ni čuo.

I dalje ne mogu da se setim, sto ne znaci da mi niste pricali  

Nego, kad smo jos kod ove liste evo komentara jednog od (a mozda i jedinog) kreatora: http://www.omnivoracious.com/2010/11/best-books-of-2010-top-10-science-fiction-and-fantasy-selections-focus-on-nos-1-5.html

QuoteI also want to mention briefly three books not covered here: Michael Cisco's The Narrator, which I didn't discover until late, Lauren Beukes' Zoo City, which isn't eligible until next year but would've been a strong contender, and Hannu Rajaniemi's The Quantum Thief , not yet been published in the U.S

.

Kedri je napisao Kamikaze l'amour, ako ćeš ga po nečemu znati, po tome ćeš. I po fotkama goli' žena. Al ni ja se nešto ne sećam da smo pričali o njemu... ali sad mi je mnogo rano, možda mi je tad bilo mnogo kasno...

Quote from: zakk on 05-11-2010, 09:11:54
Kedri je napisao Kamikaze l'amour, ako ćeš ga po nečemu znati, po tome ćeš. I po fotkama goli' žena. Al ni ja se nešto ne sećam da smo pričali o njemu... ali sad mi je mnogo rano, možda mi je tad bilo mnogo kasno...

Jeste, pričali smo baš o Kamikaze l'amour. Ja ga nisam čitao, a spomenuo sam da mi Butcher Bird, roman pre Sandman Slima, zvuči zanimljivo, a neko je rekao da je Kamikaze l'amour loš. Ne sećam se ostalih detalja.

Ovo je postalo povod za nesto sto je vec nazvano Steampunk Backlash 

The hard edge of empire
By Charlie Stross

I am becoming annoyed by the current glut of Steampunk that is being foisted on the SF-reading public via the likes of Tor.com and io9.

It's not that I actively dislike steampunk, and indeed I have fond memories of the likes of K. W. Jeter's "Infernal Devices", Tim Powers' "The Anubis Gates", the works of James Blaylock, and other features of the 1980s steampunk scene. I don't have that much to say against the aesthetic and costumery other than, gosh, that must be rather hot and hard to perambulate in. (I will confess to being a big fan of Phil and Kaja Foglio's Girl Genius.) It's just that there's too damn much of it about right now, and furthermore, it's in danger of vanishing up its own arse due to second artist effect. (The first artist sees a landscape and paints what they see; the second artist sees the first artist's work and paints that, instead of a real landscape.)

We've been at this point before with other sub-genres, with cyberpunk and, more recently, paranormal romance fang fuckers bodice rippers with vamp- Sparkly Vampyres in Lurve: it's poised on the edge of over-exposure. Maybe it's on its way to becoming a new sub-genre, or even a new shelf category in the bookstores. But in the meantime, it's over-blown. The category is filling up with trashy, derivative junk and also with good authors who damn well ought to know better than to jump on a bandwagon. (Take it from one whose first novel got the 'S'-word pinned on it — singularity — back when that was hot: if you're lucky, your career will last long enough that you live to regret it.) Harumph, young folks today, get off my lawn ....

But there's a dark side as well. We know about the real world of the era steampunk is riffing off. And the picture is not good. If the past is another country, you really wouldn't want to emigrate there. Life was mostly unpleasant, brutish, and short; the legal status of women in the UK or US was lower than it is in Iran today: politics was by any modern standard horribly corrupt and dominated by authoritarian psychopaths and inbred hereditary aristocrats: it was a priest-ridden era that had barely climbed out of the age of witch-burning, and bigotry and discrimination were ever popular sports: for most of the population starvation was an ever-present threat. I could continue at length. It's the world that bequeathed us the adjective "Dickensian", that gave us a fully worked example of the evils of a libertarian minarchist state, and that provoked Marx to write his great consolatory fantasy epic, The Communist Manifesto. It's the world that gave birth to the horrors of the Modern, and to the mass movements that built pyramids of skulls to mark the triumph of the will. It was a vile, oppressive, poverty-stricken and debased world and we should shed no tears for its passing (or the passing of that which came next).

Contemplating the numerous errors of the zombies'n'zeppelins fad in SF makes me twitch, for reasons that parallel China Mieville's denunciation of The Lord of the Rings (except that I have the attention span of a weasel on crack and am besides too lazy to anatomize the errors of a generation at length in such an essay: personally, I blame the internet). The romanticization of totalitarianism is nothing new (and if you don't recognize the totalitarian urge embedded in the steampunk nostalgia trip, I should like to remind you that "king" is a synonym for "hereditary dictator" and direct you to the merciless skewing Michael Moorcock delivered to imperial hagiography in his Oswald Bastable books). Nevertheless, an affection for the ancien regime is an unconsidered aspect of the background of most steampunk fiction: much like the interstellar autocracies so common in space opera (and again, let me cite Michael Moorcock on Starship Stormtroopers). The Science! in steampunk (which purports to be science fiction, of a kind ... doesn't it?) is questionable at best (Cherie Priest, I'm looking at your gas-induced zombies) and frequently flimsier than even the worst junk that space opera borrows from the props department, because, as it happens, the taproots of steampunk lie prior to the vast expansion in the scientific enterprise that has come to dominate our era. But that's just about forgivable, inasmuch as much modern SF doesn't even like to pretend that sometimes a spaceship is just a spaceship, and not a metaphor. That leaves the aesthetic ... which I can't find anything intrinsically wrong with, as long as steampunk is nothing more than what happens when goths discover brown. Viewed as a fashion trend for corsets and top hats, steampunk is no more harmful than a fad for Che Guevara tee shirts, or burkas, or swastikas; just another fashion trend riffing thoughtlessly off stuff that went away for a reason (at least in the developed world).

You probably think I'm going a little too far in my blanket condemnation of a sandbox where the cool kids are having altogether too much fun. But consider this: what would a steampunk novel that took the taproot history of the period seriously look like?

Forget wealthy aristocrats sipping tea in sophisticated London parlours; forget airship smugglers in the weird wild west. A revisionist mundane SF steampunk epic — mundane SF is the socialist realist movement within our tired post-revolutionary genre — would reflect the travails of the colonial peasants forced to labour under the guns of the white Europeans' Zeppelins, in a tropical paradise where severed human hands are currency and even suicide doesn't bring release from bondage. (Hey, this is steampunk — it needs zombies and zeppelins, right? Might as well pick Zombies for our single one impossible ingredient.) It would share the empty-stomached anguish of a young prostitute on the streets of a northern town during a recession, unwanted children (contraception is a crime) offloaded on a baby farm with a guaranteed 90% mortality rate through neglect. The casual boiled-beef brutality of the soldiers who take the King's shilling to break the heads of union members organizing for a 60 hour work week. The fading eyesight and mangled fingers of nine year olds forced to labour on steam-powered looms, weaving cloth for the rich. The empty-headed graces of debutantes raised from birth to be bargaining chips and breeding stock for their fathers' fortunes. In other words, it's the story of all the people who are having adventures — as long as you remember that an adventure is a tale of unpleasant events happening to people a long, long way from home.

Only none of this stuff is fun, exactly, so I suppose it has to go on the list of "Novels I will not write" ... filed under "too angry".

Čitao sam to pre neki dan - i nešto baš nisam siguran da nije reč samo o brecanju na trenutno popularan podžanr kojim se bave mahom mladi autori i koji donosi pare. Pre stimapanka to je bio slučaj sa urbanom fantastikom, a pre toga sa epskom fantastikom. Žalosna je činjenica da pisci tvrde naučne fantastike sebe doživljavaju kao elitu žanra i vrhovne kritičare društva u kojem živimo ili ne živimo. Većini njih su devedesete i uspon epske fantastike veoma teško pali.

A evo šta Ari Marmel (čiji roman takođe imam i takođe ga nisam pročitao) ima da kaže o stimpanku i antistimpanku:

A few days ago, a friend of mine in the industry pointed me to a blog post by someone else in the industry. (Names withheld to protect the innocent, the guilty, and me.) It was a pretty long post, and it covered a bunch of specific details, but the gist of it was that "steampunk is over." That there's nothing left of the genre but people imitating other people in the genre.

Seems to me that I've heard that before.

I hear that superhero movies were over–a couple of years before Batman Begins, Iron Man, and (especially) The Dark Knight.

After the initial peak of popularity for Anne Rice, Tanya Huff, PN Elrod, and White Wolf's Vampire: the Masquerade, I heard that vampires were over. I've heard the same said more recently, in the wake of Twilight. (Leaving aside the usual arguments as to whether those are actually vampires.) If that's true, and vampires are "over," you might want to tell Jasper Kent, or Clay and Susan Griffith, or the folks behind True Blood. Or heck, even the guys at White Wolf, who are about to release a brand new MMORPG based on Masquerade.

I've recently been hearing people say that zombies are over. I think AMC and Frank Darabont just put the lie to that rather handily.

People have been saying that sword & sorcery fantasy is over for years, even decades. Well, I've talked about that before; let's just say you only have to browse the fantasy section at your local bookstore to see just how true that's not.

Almost every sub-genre that's attained any real popularity and has been around more than a few years has been declared over–by fans, by creatives, by experts in the field. And you know what? They're always wrong.

Oh, sure, popularity wanes. Topics that were once everywhere become more scarce, harder to find. But they don't go away, and more often than not, after a period of quiescence, they come roaring back. Maybe in a slightly different guise, maybe tweaked for a new generation (often more than traditionalists–myself included, when it comes to lots of fantasy and horror–would like), but they come back.

In my experience, at least, the bulk of the cries of "That's over!" come from people who want it to be over. Maybe they're tired of superhero movies. Maybe they prefer urban fantasy to sword & sorcery. Maybe they're sick of vampires as romantic figures and want to see them go away for a while so they can come back as the monsters they should be. *cough, cough*

And sometimes–I stress sometimes; I'm not painting everyone, or even a majority, with this brush–it's because they're bitter about the fact that they themselves couldn't find success in the sub-genre. It's a sad display of jealousy, but it does happen. I've seen it firsthand.

What might legitimately be "over"–and what I think a lot of people are actually talking about when they speak of an entire sub-genre being "over"–is a particular cycle of influence and mimicry. Anne Rice's vampire books were a huge success, and suddenly every portrayal of vampires for many years cast them as steamy, romantic, tragic, operatic figures. Vampire novels weren't being inspired by the myths of vampires. They were being inspired by Anne Rice's novels. And then they were being inspired by books that were inspired by Anne Rice's novels, or books that were inspired by games that were inspired by books that were inspired by Anne Rice's novels. And so forth.

So sure, when a particular sub-genre starts feeding on itself like Ouroboros with the munchies, it's probably time for that particular interpretation to take a siesta. But the sub-genre itself ain't dead, and anyone who says otherwise is either genuinely mistaken or has an agenda.

What's my point with all this? Honestly, I'm speaking mostly to the aspiring writers out there. One of the first lessons that many experienced writers, and agents, and editors give to the newcomers is that you shouldn't chase the fads. Just because steampunk, or vampires, or cannibal marmosets with daddy issues are popular now doesn't mean that they will be in two years when your next book comes out. "Write," the say, "what you want to write. What you can get excited about writing. It may not sell, but you'll have a better shot, and more fun, and a better finished product, than if you're trying to ape the current hot stuff."

And that's true, but I wanted to make it clear that the reverse is also true. Don't assume that because something's popular and common that there's no room for a new spin. Don't throw away an exciting idea just because some pundit online said that a particular genre is "over," or that it's so narrowly defined that your story doesn't fit. Don't be derivative–we don't need knock-offs–but a new spin? A zombie or vampire or steampunk story that we haven't seen before? Not only is the genre never too over for that, but it just might be what a whole bunch of the genre's fans, hungry for something both new and familiar at the same time, are looking for.

Najtflajere, drago mi je što te niko ne plaća da zvanično prevedeš taj Charlie Stross blog koji je Melkor ovde postovao.

Elem, najnoviji Asimov's onlajn ima zanimljivu prozu.

Quote from: Amanda Robin on 06-11-2010, 12:42:07
Najtflajere, drago mi je što te niko ne plaća da zvanično prevedeš taj Charlie Stross blog koji je Melkor ovde postovao.

Što?

Pa, zato što nikako ne uspevam da povežem tvoj komentar na Štrosov blog sa samim sadržajem tog bloga. A znaš već kako mudri starci zbore: sve što prevodilac učita u original, on upiše i u prevod...  

Inače, moram da dodam kako je i mene Torov blog pošteno smorio, mada priznajem da to nije zbog stimpanka, koji mi uopšte nije mrzak, naprotiv.  

Quote from: Amanda Robin on 07-11-2010, 09:27:37
Pa, zato što nikako ne uspevam da povežem tvoj komentar na Štrosov blog sa samim sadržajem tog bloga. A znaš već kako mudri starci zbore: sve što prevodilac učita u original, on upiše i u prevod... 

Inače, moram da dodam kako je i mene Torov blog pošteno smorio, mada priznajem da to nije zbog stimpanka, koji mi uopšte nije mrzak, naprotiv. 

Nisam ni rekao da je to bio Marmelov odgovor na Strosa. Možda jeste, a moža je bilo upućeno nekom drugom. A ako misliš na ono što sam ja napisao iznad Marmela... pa, zaista mislim da je sva povika na stimpank koja se u poslednje vreme čuje sindrom lisice i kiselog grožđa. Nije taj stimpank pao sa neba. To je uveliko krenulo prošle godine, sa Pristovom, Vesterfeldom i još nekima - ali tada nikome nije smetalo, jer su svi mislili da se to neće prodavati.

Raspisala se ovih dana...


Cat Valente - Here I Stand, With Steam Coming Out of My Ears

QuoteI am sick to death of steampunk.

Cat Valente - Steampunk Reloaded

Cat Valente - 10 Things I Actually Do Love About Steampunk


Cat Valente - Long Hard SF Against the Wall

Quote from: Nightflier on 07-11-2010, 10:44:27

Quote from: Amanda Robin on 07-11-2010, 09:27:37
Pa, zato što nikako ne uspevam da povežem tvoj komentar na Štrosov blog sa samim sadržajem tog bloga. A znaš već kako mudri starci zbore: sve što prevodilac učita u original, on upiše i u prevod... 

Inače, moram da dodam kako je i mene Torov blog pošteno smorio, mada priznajem da to nije zbog stimpanka, koji mi uopšte nije mrzak, naprotiv. 

Nisam ni rekao da je to bio Marmelov odgovor na Strosa.

Nisam ni pominjala "Marmelov odgovor na Strosa", nego samo tvoj.

QuoteČitao sam to pre neki dan - i nešto baš nisam siguran da nije reč samo o brecanju na trenutno popularan podžanr kojim se bave mahom mladi autori i koji donosi pare. Pre stimapanka to je bio slučaj sa urbanom fantastikom, a pre toga sa epskom fantastikom. Žalosna je činjenica da pisci tvrde naučne fantastike sebe doživljavaju kao elitu žanra i vrhovne kritičare društva u kojem živimo ili ne živimo. Većini njih su devedesete i uspon epske fantastike veoma teško pali.

Ne vidim gde si u Štrosovom blogu našao opravdanje za svoj ovakav zaključak, pa mi se zato i učinilo da učitavaš u njegov blog ono što čovek uopšte nije nameravao da kaže.

Ili ja bar ne uspevam da vidim gde je on to rekao, pa ako možeš da me prosvetliš, bila bih ti zahvalna. 

Zar nije pisao (Stross) o "hajp"-u?

I o: "(The first artist sees a landscape and paints what they see; the second artist sees the first artist's work and paints that, instead of a real landscape.)" efektu?

Pa, moj utisak nije zasnovan samo na Strosovom blogu, niti se odnosi samo na njega. Razgovarajući sa piscima i urednicima koji promovišu stimpank i onima koje stimpank nervira, stekao sam takav utisak. A ono da hard sf pisci sebe doživljavaju kao elitu fantastike, te da mahom nipodaštavaju sve ostale valjda ne moram da dokazujem posebno. Bilo kako bilo, to je moj stav & mišljenje - a nije moj manir da svoje mišljenje namećem drugima, te stoga neću ni pokušavati da te prosvećujem.

A da me neko angažuje da prevedem bilo šta, pa i Strosa, bojim se da ne bih mogao drugačije da prevodim nego onako kako doživljam taj tekst. Za potpuno objektivno prevođenje za sada je jedini izlaz Google Translate.

Quote from: Gaff on 07-11-2010, 12:26:54
Zar nije pisao (Stross) o "hajp"-u?

I o: "(The first artist sees a landscape and paints what they see; the second artist sees the first artist's work and paints that, instead of a real landscape.)" efektu?

je, bogami.  

(My bad; ne znam zašto sam uvek toliko svesna sveta drugih-po-redu umetnika... karakterna mana, garant...  )

ps. jel' ono "drugih-po-redu" sinonimno sa drugorazrednim?

Quote from: Amanda Robin on 07-11-2010, 12:56:39

ps. jel' ono "drugih-po-redu" sinonimno sa drugorazrednim?

Pre će biti - trećerazrednim.

Jah.

Overi, molim te, "Lost in Translation".

Vrlo poučan "lip my stocking" film...

Quote from: Nightflier on 07-11-2010, 12:28:22

A da me neko angažuje da prevedem bilo šta, pa i Strosa, bojim se da ne bih mogao drugačije da prevodim nego onako kako doživljam taj tekst. Za potpuno objektivno prevođenje za sada je jedini izlaz Google Translate.

Vidi, na sto sam čuda bila kako da ti odgovorim.  Neke izjave koje ovde nudiš stvarno prevazilaze moju moć shvatanja. Ali ovo gore citirano itekako shvatam, pa zato:  

Zaista ne očekujem od prevodioca da mi nudi svoj "doživljaj" originalnog teksta, još manje to želim, a još ponajmanje želim da za to ikada platim. Tebi se možda čini da ja očekujem nemoguće, ali, ja zapravo samo očekujem profesionalan prevod originalnog teksta i definitivno ne želim da u ime istom dobijem ikakvo alternativno 9i krajnje subjektivno) tumačenje istog. Drugim rečima, smatram da čak i izraelski Jevrejin može da mi bez greške prevede Majn Kampf, to samo ako je dovoljno profesionalan i ako dovoljno dobro poznaje nemački jezik, a ne samo getoiziranu mu "jidiš" varijantu. S druge strane, smatram da čak ni rođeni švaba neće uspeti u tom poduhvatu, ako ne ispunjava te minimalne uslove.

Tako da... ja zapravo nikada nisam uporedila tekst tvog prevoda sa tekstom originala kojeg si prevodio, pa sam ti sve kvalifikacije do sada uzimala zdravo-za-gotovo. Ali u ovom slučaju, vidim da postoji suštinsko nerazumevanje(©Mića Milovanović ) između Čarlijevog teksta i tvog tumačenja istog, pa ja ne mogu a da ti na to ne skrenem pažnju.

Naravno, to u sasvim prijateljskom maniru, da se razumemo, pošto ja ionako nisam ciljna grupa za tvoje prevode.
                 

Vidi, da bilo koja dva, tri ili šesnaest prevodilaca prevode isti tekst, dobila bi različitih prevoda koliko iima prevodilaca. Zato se prevod smatra autorskim delom. Prevodilac je tumač originala, po definiciji. Naravno, ti to ne moraš da prihvatiš, niti to od tebe očekujem. Na kraju, ovde ima i drugih prevodilaca pa možeš i njih da pitaš za mišljenje, ako te zanima.

Inače, ne verujem da postoji suštinsko nerazumevanje između "Čarlijevog" teksta i mene. Pre će biti da trenutno postoji nerazumevanje između mene i tebe, ili mog i tvog tumačenja Strosovog stava o stimpanku.

Najtflajere, molim te shvati; ovo nema nikakve veze za stimpankom, nego sa tvojom sklonošću da sasvim proizvoljno tumačiš tuđe izjave, sad ne više samo Štrosove, nego i moje.

Ti si u svom komentaru impliciraš da je rečeno ono što uopće nije bilo rečeno, i ja sam na to reagovala. A ako je to zaista nekakva baza kodeksa domaćeg prevodilačkog esnafa, onda stvarno ne znam šta da ti kažem. Čovek nigde nije niti insinuirao, a kamoli se referisao na te tvoje konfrontacije sa epskom i urbanom fantastikom, nigde se nije postavio kao "elita hardSF-a" – nemam blage veze po kom bi on to merilu ušao u tu kategoriju, čak i da ista ovde nije isključiv produkt tvoje konstrukcije, a i da jeste, kakve veze u tom kontekstu ima epska fantastika?? taman koliko i krimić ili ljubić, pošto se otprilike toliko ti žanrovi razlikuju.  

Opet tvrdim, to što si ti ponudio kao tumačenje njegove izjave nema nikakve veze sa stvarnim sadržajem njegovog bloga, čak ni utoliko da ovaj konkretno blog bude makar i posredan povod tim tvojim konstrukcijama. A ljudi koji ne barataju engleskim dovoljno dobro da shvate finese njegove sintakse, garant će lako poverovati upravo tvom "prevodu", pa ti ja ovde zato i tvrdim kako je isti potpuno proizvoljan.

A ako se zaista podrazumeva da prevodioci "tumače" tekstove koje prevode, onda ne shvatam tvoju potrebu da se na prevod Kombibove "Mehaničke Devojke" osvrćeš onako kako si se osvrtao, jer ako smatraš legitimnim ovakva tumačenja Štrosovih izjava, onda su valjda i skroz legitimne sve one vreće sa zejtinom, jer – bože moj – prevodilac je to možda upravo tako doživeo a ko smo mi da mu kažemo da je u krivu?  
Opet ponavljam, nije u pitanju ništa lično, ja prevode fantastike ne čitam po difoltu, sem Skrobovih; ali svejedno verujem da je velika odgovornost u prevođenju tuđih tekstova, i verujem da ta odgovornost pri takvoj obavezi prevazilazi bilo kakve "lične utiske" ili "doživljaje", koje bi prevodilac lično mogao imati. A ako zaista nije tako, onda guglovom prevodiocu nekako i ne vidim realnu alternativu.

I kakvo značenje ima to tvoje stavljanje njegovog imena u navodnike?
Mislim stvarno, na kom mi ovde jeziku uopšte komuniciramo??    

Znaš šta, sve si u pravu. Povlačim sve što sam rekao.

Naravno, naravno... zar bi te inače bilo u esnafu u kojem te ima?

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Better Living Through Software


Ever since the rise of cyberpunk in the 1980s (and quite possibly before then), science fiction has been obsessed with the relationship between the human brain and computers. There's an argument that virtual worlds and nanotechnology have provided writers with the sort of magic wands that make modern day SF indistinguishable from fantasy, though personally I find a lot of it reminiscent of Michael Moorcock's wonderful Dancers at the End of Time series. The important point, however, is not how you choose to classify subgenres, but whether the books are any good. Fortunately some of our finest writers are on the job.

The idea that human minds might be uploaded into software has been around for quite a while. Charlie Stross's Accelerando is one of the most famous uses of the idea. The new Iain M. Banks Culture novel, Surface Detail, picks up the idea and runs with it. Suppose, Banks asks, this was possible. What would happen if fundamentalist religions got hold of this technology? That's right, they would be able to make Heaven and Hell a reality. And Saint Peter would be redundant, because living people would decide who ended up where.
Of course The Culture would never do anything so dastardly as to condemn their citizens to Hell; not when they put so much effort into creating Heaven for the living. But they are not the only civilization in the galaxy. Some less evolved civilizations are very enthusiastic about "preserving local traditions", especially those with authoritarian governments. Other civilizations are determined to stamp out the barbaric practice, but because all-out war is frowned upon in galactic society they agree to fight a proxy war in virtual worlds instead. The only trouble with such agreements, is that sooner or later one side has to face the fact that it is losing, and at that point they have to decide whether to escalate matters into the Real.

The plot of Surface Detail covers a wide range of characters including a corrupt businessman whose fortune is tied up with providing the server farms in which the Hells of the galaxy are hosted; two alien academics who brave their local Hell to find out how the dead are really treated; a Universal Soldier who fights in the virtual wars because being used as a weapon is all he knows how to do; and a Culture warship who is itching to actually use all of his lethal toys. I don't need to tell you which of those characters steals the show.

While Banks might still be one of the big stars of science fiction, there are plenty of young pretenders snapping at his heels. A book that people are tipping to carry off a few awards next year is The Quantum Thief,  a hugely impressive debut by Finnish writer, Hannu Rajaniemi. He also has characters spending time in virtual worlds after they die, but in the sophisticated far-future Mars of the novel death is only a temporary state that citizens go through in order to earn more time alive. While in the Quiet they work in the brains of the machines that keep the city of Oubliette running.

Much of the plot of The Quantum Thief involves a seemingly impossible crime. Isidore, a young man who fancies himself as a Consulting Detective, tries to solve the mystery. A prime suspect is the notorious thief, Jean le Flambeur, who has recently arrived on Mars having escaped the fearsome Dilemma Prison. Of course as le Flambeur is one of the main viewpoint characters, we know it can't have been him that did it, unless of course it was something he planned and put in train before he went to prison and has since expunged from his memory. It is the sort of mystery that you can only do in science fiction.

Rajaniemi's prose is excellent, and all the more impressive as English is not his native language. You may also have noticed quite a bit of French influence in the names. It helps to know a little French when reading the book. But it is the character of le Flambeur that will probably capture readers' hearts. He's the sort of loveable rogue that might have been played by David Niven in years past, and would doubtless be picked up by Robert Downey Jr. these days. The Quantum Thief is an explosive debut and I couldn't be happier for Hannu.

John Meaney has a rather different take on software life-after-death. His new SF novel, Absorption, has a complex plot spanning many characters over several millennia. The characters include a Viking warrior, a Jewish lady physicist from Nazi Germany, and a mu-space pilot from the same far-future universe in which his Nulapeiron Sequence is set. The far-future action takes place in a tech-based city that bears some similarities to Rajaniemi's Oubliette and Kathleen Ann Goonan's Flower Cities, and here we encounter the fearsome concept of vampire code. Imagine that you are jacked in to the Internet, and someone comes through that interface and sucks out your mind, absorbing your skills and talents for themselves.

With so many viewpoints spread through space and time, the book takes a while to get started. It isn't really until about half way through that you start to see the shape of the story. But the pace keeps accelerating as the book progresses and by the end we reach a breathless climax that leaves you itching for the next book in the series.

A somewhat different take on the idea is provided by Tricia Sullivan's Lightborn. In this novel a software system known as Lightborn, or colloquially Shine, is used to give viewers a more interactive and intense experience of popular media. It links you to your TV set, which by the time of the book is the same thing as your home computer. At the beginning of the book a rogue AI takes over the software and starts suborning viewers. It is more zombie code than vampire code, but alarming all the same, and by the time the software security guys manage to isolate the rouge a small American town has been taken over. Only the kids, who are too young for full-blown Shine connections, escape the AI's control.

A lot of authors would have written a book leading up to something like that, with the climax being the defeat of the AI. Sullivan is much braver. Her book is all about what happens after the event — to the people in the town, to the kids who managed to flee, and to America in general. The book reminded me in part of Sheri S. Tepper's Raising the Stones, in which the population of a planet comes under the influence of a sentient fungus. Tepper is fairly happy about this, because the fungus puts an end to war and inequality; everyone is a happy part of the hive mind. Sullivan has a much more nuanced view of the possibilities, and therefore, to my mind, has produced a better book.
Colin Harvey's Damage Time is also much closer to our own world. Set in New York just a generation or so into the future, it too deals with the relationship between brains and software. The main character, Pete Shah, is a cop whose primary expertise is searching through recorded memories. In particular it is vital for the police to know if the memories they are studying are genuine or have been edited. But if memories can be recorded, so too can they be stolen and sold, and there you have an opportunity for organized crime.

Because he is dealing with the very near future, Harvey runs the risk of readers complaining "that couldn't possibly happen." For example, in the book, things like Peak Oil and Climate Change turn out to be real and not scurrilous lies put about by evil Liberals trying to deny good, upstanding Republicans their God-given right to unlimited consumption. Some people won't like that. You might equally wonder whether California would really secede, build a wall to keep the rest of the country out, and proceed to uplift its citizens in nerd-like rapture to some early version of those Flower Cities. But Harvey isn't really predicting here, he's just postulating (see his interview in this issue for more on the background to the book). And who knows what will really happen in the future. I particularly like the bit where Shah, being a hard-bitten male cop, is thoroughly disrespectful towards a beautiful intersex woman, and then gets chewed out over his bigotry by his Imam.

The real problem with memory, however, is that if you wait long enough it degrades horribly. That's true whether it is stored in flesh, in software, or in history. Michael Moorcock's Doctor Who novel, The Coming of the Terraphiles, is set in the very far future when our Earth is more myth than history. The Terraphiles of the title are Americans aliens who have developed an obsessive interest in English Terran history. So enthusiastic are they, that they create re-enactment theme parks worlds in which they can role-play the lives of the people they worship. That includes sporting events that merrily muddle archery, darts and cricket. In fact they get just about everything wrong, except perhaps that they all come over like characters out of a P.G. Wodehouse novel.
The Doctor, of course, is a bit of a Terraphile himself.

Moorcock fans will know that he has visited this sort of territory before – and for those who are not fans there is a clue at the beginning of this article. However, the Doctor is not exactly Jherek Carnelian, and Amy Pond is most definitely not Mrs. Amelia Underwood. Things are different this time around, and perhaps a little less funny.
Nevertheless, Moorcock manages to skewer both American re-enactors and the English upper classes at the same time. Much fun is had with an enormous, ugly hat that appears to be crowned with a particularly fearsome example of giant spider. The notorious space pirate, Captain Cornelius, takes an interest in proceedings, sailing the solar winds in a vessel that is a far better idea of a starjammer than anything that came out of a Shi'ar shipyard. The forces of obsessive Order are thwarted. Ordinary people mostly get to live happily ever after, and the TARDIS whisks the Doctor and Amy off into what they fervently hope will be the sunset but will probably end up being more deadly peril. Which just goes to show that Mr. Moorcock knows exactly what is required of a Doctor Who story.

Samo da znate, Ellison je preživeo MadCon 2010  , što se ne može reći za mobilni kojim ga je neko pokušao uslikati  .
Uspeo je, pored toga, rasplakati i jednu devojčicu i izvređati barem pola posetilaca MadCon-a  .

Ko je bio blesav pa njemu dete privodio na domet sluha? To je u istoj ravni kao proturanje ruku kroz šipke kaveza u zoo-vrtu.

Quote from: Jevtropijevićka on 11-11-2010, 20:41:07
Ko je bio blesav pa njemu dete privodio na domet sluha? To je u istoj ravni kao proturanje ruku kroz šipke kaveza u zoo-vrtu.

Ako sam dobro shvatio, incident se dogodio kada je - nakon jednog od svojih "predavanja" - prešao sa društvom u restoran da prezalogaji (mada nigde nisam saznao šta je jadna klinka učinila).

Možda je klinka donela kesicu jellybeansa? Evo u čemu je stvar:

Quote"At a con in the mid-80's, Harlan encountered something rare in his book: an extremely attractive, big-busted, non-fat blonde who happened to be about 2-3" shorter than he was. The catch was that she actually seemed interested in him, not for his status as a SF writer, but because of some aspect of his lack of charm or whatnot - ergo, him for himself. Word spread around the con about this, and Harlan was escorting this gal around the con as a trophy. It was then that several other writers and fans decided it was time to give Harlan his come-uppance.

Flashback to a previous con. One question Harlan hates the most is when someone asks where the Harlequin got all those jelly beans he dumps on the Tick-Tock Man. At this one con, Harlan went ballistic and threatened to throttle the next person who asked him that question. From all accounts, it wasn't just a tirade, it was an actual promise of bodily harm to the next poor unfortunate who made such a mistake of query. Needless to say, word spread around about this one, and a lot of people shied away from Harlan for the rest of that con.

Some of those in attendance were also at the con where Harlan had apparently scored. It was then that the plan went into effect. One SF writer decoyed Harlan, while a couple of fans gave the trophy du femme a bag of - you guessed it - jelly beans. They told her these were Harlie's favorites, and she could score great brownie points by giving him this big bag.

Needless to say, jelly beans exploded all over the convention floor."

Uzgred, evo kako su se momci iz Penny Arcade proveli kada su bili gests ov onr zajedno sa Elisonom na jednoj konvenciji:

QuoteSo Tycho and I are up in front of the audience with Harlen, and Hank (the con organizer) presents us with some jester hats ("Fool's caps"). Tycho and I put ours on because we are polite, but Harlen - who is apparently too cool for school - refuses to wear his. I turn to him and say, "Don't you want your hat?" and he tells me to fuck off. This caught me off guard, I mean I have no clue who this fucking coot is. Then he points to a pad of paper he has and asks if I'm aware that his paper is also called foolscap. Now, I've never heard that term before, I pretty much just call it paper so I shake my head "no." This really isn't a fair question. I mean, it would be like me asking him about Photoshop or if he can remember what he had for lunch. The guy was essentially setting me up to look stupid in front of all these people. So then he asks me if I even attended college and I say "No, I did not." Then, he says "did you at least finish high school?"

I said that I had, but you couldn't really hear me because the audience is laughing at me along with Harlen. So once they stop, I turn to him and I say, "While I've got you here I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed the Star Wars stuff you wrote."

I didn't know him very well but I felt like mistaking him for someone who writes Star Wars books was the sort of insult that would cut right to his brittle old bones. The audience seemed to agree because I could hear a lot of ooooooooh's and oh no's over the laughing. Some people in the front even suggested a fist fight was now in order. I look over at Harlen and he's staring at me like he wants to choke me. He then says "so that's how it's going to be." Now keep in mind that he's the one that started hostilities when he told me to fuck off. I'm just the one that finished it. The guy tells some pretty funny stories about how witty he is and how he's always saying clever things at exactly the right moment. When confronted with someone who was unwilling to take any crap from him he had no clever retort. The great writer just glared at me and then walked off stage. I don't doubt that given enough time he could craft a perfectly worded and extremely vicious response but up there on stage in front of all his fans the man didn't have shit.

I don't blame Harlen for not knowing who I am. I honestly don't expect him to. I don't expect anyone that old to know who I am. I did expect him to be polite and at least respect the fact that I was a fellow guest of honor. That was apparently too much to ask for from the great Harlen Elison.

Elison je... priča za sebe.  



Nego:


Houellebecq, the enfant terrible of French contemporary literature accepted the Prix Goncourt at Le Drouant, the small Paris restaurant where the jury always make their final judgement over lunch.
The jury had voted seven to two in favour of his widely-acclaimed novel "La Carte et le Territoire" (The Map and the Territory) after three failed attempts over a decade.
He wins a symbolic prize of 10 euros (£8.60), but the prize is said to boost sales to around 400,000 copies in general - the book has already sold almost 200,000 copies in France.
The win comes despite accusations of plagiarism – one critic noticed at least three chunks of text were apparently the same as passages from the French-language edition of the online encyclopedia Wikipedia. "It's a bizarre sensation but I'm deeply happy", the controversial 54-year-old said of the prize previously awarded to Marcel Proust, Simone de Beauvoir and Marguerite Duras. "There are people that only know contemporary literature thanks to the Goncourt, and literature at the centre of French people's concerns, so it's significant."
Houellebecq has previously criticised the award after missing out.
When Atomised, his sexually explicit novel about two half brothers' relationships that shot him to fame in 1998, lost the Goncourt he claimed the jury were "bought off".
He complained when his next work, Platform about third-world sex tourism and terrorism, was knocked out in 2001, while in 2005, his book, The Possibility of an Island, featuring a standup comic cloned by the Rael sect, failed to make the grade, he said: "The prize system is so opaque that it is better to expect nothing from it."
Yesterday [Monday], he said however: "I'm someone who forgets bad things, the wounds have healed."
Detractors of the Goncourt have accused the jury of awarding prizes to make sure publishers share the spoils. Houellbecq's publisher, Flammarion, however, has not won the award for 30 years.
Pierre Assouline, a critic for Le Monde newspaper, wrote in his literary blog: "If the Goncourt jury had not crowned him this time, they would have looked ridiculous."
Houellebecq's latest novel, set largely in Paris, centres on a lonely misanthropic artist who wins critical and commercial success by photographing Michelin maps and then painting business tycoons.
The character befriends a grumpy writer who "stinks a little less than a corpse" and resembles "an old, sick tortoise", named Michel Houellebecq.
The writer's works have consistently sparked controversy and claims of misogyny, racism and sexism.
His description of Islam as "the most stupid religion" landed him in court in 2002 on a charge of inciting racial hatred, of which he was acquitted.
He also hit the headlines over a savage public row with his estranged mother Lucie Ceccaldi, whom he portrays in a deeply unflattering light in his novel Plateforme. She responded by writing a book in which she called him a liar, an impostor and a parasite.
Houellebecq dismissed the allegations of plagiarism, arguing that the passages were part of a "patchwork" approach that was ironic.
"If people really think that, then they haven't the first notion of what literature is. That is part of my method", he said, saying other great writers versed in the arts of mixing "real" texts into fiction.


(Okej sad, ovo mi izgleda kao kontroverza ne samo zbog 'sf' varijante (khm, khm)  koju autor piše nego i zbog činjenice da postoje ljudi na ovom belom svetu koji smatraju da je ugrađivanje informacije sa vikipedije u prozu... plagijat.   )

Ursula najzad bloguje: 

   





Someone Named Delores
Posted on November 9th, 2010 by Ursula K. Le Guin

A sentence in a story has been troubling me. The story, by Zadie Smith, was in The New Yorker recently (October 11, 2010). It's in the first person, but I don't know whether it's fiction or memoir. Many people don't even make the distinction, now that memoir takes the liberties of fiction without taking the imaginative risks, and fiction claims the authority of history without assuming the factual responsibilities. To my mind the I of a memoir or "personal essay" is a very different matter from the I of a story or novel, but I don't know if Zadie Smith sees it that way. And so I don't know whether she's speaking as a character in fiction or as herself when towards the end of her tale of a seemingly unrepaid loan to a friend she says, "The first check came quickly but sat in a pile of unopened mail because these days I hire someone to do that."

The implacable editor in my hindbrain promptly inquired You hire someone not to open the mail? I silenced the meddling reptile, but the sentence continued to bother me.

"These days I hire someone to do that." What's wrong with that? Well, I guess it's the "someone." Someone is no one. The nameless nobody hired to answer the mail of a somebody with a name.

So, at this point I'm beginning to hope that the story is fiction and thus that the narrator is not Zadie Smith, because this doesn't sound like the voice of a writer highly sensitive to class and color prejudices. It reminded me, in fact, of the dean's wife, when I was a lowly assistant professor's wife, who couldn't leave "my housekeeper" out of her conversation for five minutes, she was in such a state of admiration of herself for having the grand house that required keeping and the housekeeper to keep it. But that was silly, naive, like Mr Collins continually mentioning "my patron Lady Catherine de Bourgh." The statement "these days I hire someone to do that" has a harsher ring to it.

And so what? Why shouldn't a highly successful writer hire help and say so? And what skin is it off my nose?

Envy, of course, in the first place. I am envious of people who hire a servant with perfect assurance of righteousness. I envy self-confidence even as I dislike it. Envy co-exists only too easily with righteous disapproval. Indeed perhaps the two nasty creatures live off each other.

And then, annoyance. There's an "of course" implied in "I hire someone to do that," and there's no of course about it. But people think there is, and this kind of talk encourages them to think so — which annoys me.

It's a widespread illusion: a writer (a successful writer, a real writer) doesn't do her own mail. She has a secretary to do it, as well as helpers, amanuenses, researchers, handlers — lord knows what — maybe an Editor's Hole in the east wing, like the Priest's Hole in old British houses.

I imagine writers commonly had secretaries, a century ago. Henry James did, sure enough. But Henry James was not exactly your average writer, right?

Virginia Woolf didn't.

Among writers I know personally, only one has a secretary to do mail. To me it seems a perquisite of the extremely successful, and of a magnitude of success that daunts me. Privacy to be with my family and do my work was of the first importance to me. So, when I began to need help answering my letters, I found it extremely difficult to convince myself that I needed it badly enough to justify my hiring "someone," bringing a stranger into my study, setting myself up as a boss.

I always had trouble calling Delores my secretary, it sounded so pompous (echoes of "my housekeeper...") If I had to speak of her to strangers I said her name, or "my friend who does mail for me." But I knew that this latter phrase was one of the mildly devious devices by which we handle guilt, the ways we try to re-introduce humanity into the relationship of hirer and hired, which inevitably, to whatever slight a degree, involves inequality, the raising up of one and degradation of the other. Democracy by strenuously denying the fact of inequality does enable us, to a surprising extent, to act as if it didn't exist; but it does exist, and we know it. So our job is to keep the inequity of power as small as possible, and refuse to let our common humanity be reduced, however slightly, even by a careless word, by an assertion of unequal worth.

My envy of writers who hire a person to handle their mail and annoyance at people who assume that I have such help are really quite mild, but they are painful now, because I did have "someone," but I have lost her.

Delores Rooney, later Delores Pander, was my helper and dear friend.

Thirty years ago or so, I finally got up my courage and asked around for recommendations of a professionally competent and discreet person to give me a hand with my letters, which were getting beyond me. Our mutual friend Martha West, who had worked with Delores as a secretary in an office, recommended her. She was then working as manager-agent for a dance company. We rather nervously gave it a try.

I had never dictated anything to anybody (outside Beginning French courses where you very slowly and clearly read a dictée in French to the students who very slowly and inaccurately write it down.) Delores had taught herself shorthand and was a whiz at it — a skill now, I suppose, almost entirely lost? — and she'd taken lots of dictation from lots of dictators. She coached me in composing a letter orally, and encouraged me with praise; she was an excellent teacher. And also she'd worked and lived with artists, painters, dancers, and was used to artistic temperamental peculiarities, having a few of her own.

We got to doing letters quickly and easily, and I soon began to draw on her as a collaborator in composing the letters — what to say and how to say it. Does that sound all right? What if you said this instead of that? What on earth am I going to write to the man who sent me the 600-page manuscript about fairies on Venus? This one's a whiner, you don't have to answer him... — Delores was always better than me at kind answers to kooks, but she was tough-minded, too, and encouraged me not to answer a letter that was troublingly weird or made unreasonable demands. She got to be so good at replying to the eternally repeated questions that I could hand her a letter and just say "Idea for Catwings" and the tale of how I happened to think of cats with wings was all ready in in her computer — though she varied it according to her mood and the age of the inquirer. She had a gracious, graceful tone in discouraging problematic requests by explaining why I couldn't personally reply just now. She covered for me beautifully. She loved to answer children's letters, even when they were the mechanical kind some teachers make kids write. The open kindness and generosity of her spirit lent all my correspondence a quality it would never have had without her collaboration.

She never came more than once a week, usually only once every three or four weeks. I'd do the most urgent business correspondence and let the rest and the fan mail pile up. She got a computer before I did, and it eased her work a great deal. When I got one, it didn't make much difference at first. But when e-mail really got going I began to be able to deal with all the real business myself. Still Delores and I together handled non-urgent business, the fan letters from readers, and what we called The Gimmies: the letters everybody who becomes visible to the public gets, asking you to do this, give to that, endorse this book, speak at that good cause, etc. Even if you can't possibly say yes to them, most such letters are well-intentioned and deserve a civil no. Delores said no thank you in every possible way, always politely. It was a great burden off me. She said that the Gimmies were boring but just various enough to be entertaining too.

As for fan mail, letters from readers have always come to me on paper only, my crude but effective way of keeping the volume down. The letters people write me — often with pen and ink, or in pencil, crayon, glitter, and other media if they're children — are ever-amazing, giving me immense pleasure and reward, but they are also never-ending. I knew there was no way I could handle the load if I tried to read and answer them on my website or on email. But I have always felt that such letters deserve a reply, however brief, and for years Delores was my invaluable aide in answering them.

We loved each other as friends, but didn't have extensive contact outside our work sessions. She was a busy woman: she soon became Jean Auel's secretary four days a week, and was agent and manager for her husband the painter Henk Pander; when her parents grew old and sick she looked after them, and late in life she adopted and brought up her granddaughter. Our friendship was expressed mostly during and in our working relationship. I always looked forward to Delores coming, and we always spent half the time talking, catching up. Once, when I was scared by a stalker, she and Henk gave me wonderful immediate support.

As the years went on she seemed to grow shyer and more withdrawn from her friends than she had been, I do not know why. She told me once that she liked coming to work with me because we laughed together.

Her computer began to get out of date, and her life was complicated by various issues; her energy was being overtried. She couldn't or didn't want to figure out how to help me with e-correspondence the way she did with paper mail, which she took home along with dictated answers or suggested notes from me. So I came to do all the email and most of the letters, leaving her only some Gimmies and no-thank-yous and those fan letters that needed only acknowledgment.

Delores's joy in life had been visibly flagging for a long time when she was diagnosed, last year, with cancer. At first it seemed local and curable, but proved to be metastasizing. It killed her in a few months. There was a brief and lovely respite or remission for a few weeks late in her illness, when we were able to visit with her quite often, and laughed together as we had used to laugh. Then the cruel disease closed in again. She died a few months ago, attended with great tenderness by her husband.

I find it extremely hard to talk about people I loved who have died. I can't now make a proper tribute to that complex and beautiful woman, or say more than that I miss her friendship in every way.

Without her, I've had to give up the effort to answer fan mail, at least temporarily. As for the Gimmies, some of them get answered, some of them don't. I suppose I could hire someone to do that.

But I doubt that I will. I can't put my heart into it.

— UKL
9 November 2010

_____________

What a coincidence... Pročitala sam taj post pre par sati.

Hej, pa znači i ti overavaš buk-kafe...! kuuul!! 

Povremeno... Na ovo sam naišla sa Ursulinog sajta.

An Open Letter to MFA Writing Programs (and Their Students)
Dear MFA writing programs (and their students):

Recently New York magazine published a story, in which Columbia University's graduate writing program invited James Frey to come chat with its students on the subject of "Can Truth Be Told?" during which Frey mentioned a book packaging scheme that he had cooked up. The contractual terms of that book packaging scheme are now famously known to be egregious — it's the sort of contract, in fact, that you would sign only if you were as ignorant as a chicken, and with about as much common sense — and yet it seems that Frey did not have any problem getting people to sign on, most, it appears, students of MFA programs. Frey is clearly selecting for his scheme writers who should know better, but don't — and there's apparently a high correlation between being ignorant that his contract is horrible and being an MFA writing student.

I don't blame Columbia University's graduate writing program for inviting James Frey over to talk to its students about "truth." If there's anyone who knows about the word truth contained between ironic quotation marks, it'd be James Frey, and it's probably not a bad idea for the kids to see a prevaricating hustler up close to observe how one of his kind can rationalize bad actions and even poorer ethics as transgressive attempts at literature. It's always a joy to see how a master of bullshit spins himself up; publishing and literature being what they are, the students should probably learn to recognize this species sooner than later, all the better to move their wallets to their front pockets when such a creature stands before them.

What does bother me, however, is that Frey apparently quite intentionally was working his way through MFA programs recruiting writers for his book packaging scheme. You could say there's an obvious reason for this, which is that MFA writing students are likely more competent at writing than your average schmoe writer on the street (this is a highly arguable contention, but never mind that now), and they're all in one place, which makes for easier recruiting. But I suspect there's another reason as well, which is that in general it appears MFA writing programs don't go out of their way educate their students on the publishing industry, or contracts, or much about the actual business of writing.
And so when someone like James Frey breezes in and starts blowing smoke about collaborations, the response is this –

We were desperate to be published, any way we could. We were spending $45,000 on tuition, some of us without financial aid, and many taking out loans that were lining us up to graduate six figures in debt. A deal like the one Frey was offering could potentially pay off our loans and provide an income for the next decade. Do a little commercial work under a pseudonym, sell the movie rights, and never have to suffer as a writer in New York. We wouldn't even need day jobs.

– followed by a number of students receiving and then signing a contract that pays them next to nothing, and offers a deal so constrictive that by the terms of the contract Frey could publish works under their names and keep them from publishing again (via a gloriously vague "non-compete" clause). Frey was no doubt counting on the students being starry-eyed at the presence of a real-live bestselling author (even a disgraced one) who was waving a movie deal in their faces, but one reason he could count on it was because he was speaking to an audience whose formal educations did not include learning how to spot a crappy deal.

So, MFA writing programs, allow me to make a suggestion. Sometime before you hand over that sheepskin with the words "Master of Fine Arts" on it, for which your students may have just paid tens of thousands of dollars (or more), offer them a class on the business of the publishing industry, including an intensive look at contracts. Why? Because, Holy God, they will need it.

Now, perhaps you are saying, "We focus on the art of writing, not the business." My answer to that is, please, pull your head out. Your students are not paying as much money as they do for your program strictly for the theoretical joys of writing. They are paying so they can publish, and it's a pretty good bet, considering how many of those Columbia folks scrambled to pitch to Frey, that they actually want to be published commercially, not just in university presses, in which (sorry) low advances and small print runs don't matter since it's just another line on the CV. Yes, you are teaching an art, but whether you like it or not you're also teaching a trade — or at the very least many of your students are coming to learn a trade, and put up with the art portion of it as part of the deal. Teaching them something about the trade will not hurt your program.

And then you might say, "there's no point in teaching them about the business because if they go the commercial publishing route they'll have agents." To which I would say, wow, really? "Other people will handle the dirty money part" is a response that a) shows a certain amount of snobbery, b) sets up a writer to be dependent on others because she is ignorant of the particulars of her own business. You know how every year you hear about an actor or musician who has been screwed by his accountant or business manager? That's what happens when you don't pay attention — or more relevantly don't have the knowledge to pay attention.

To be clear, I don't want to paint literary agents, et al as suspicious and shady characters; I have two literary agents (one for fiction and one for non-fiction) and they are super-smart and do a great job for me, and I'm glad they do their job and leave me to do mine, which is writing. But you know what? Part of the reason I know they're doing a good job is because I know my own business, which makes it easier for me to know what they are doing. It also means they know that they can discuss business with me on a realistic and sensible level. Beyond that, not everyone has an agent, or (alas) a good one if they have one.

Finally, you may say "We don't have anyone on our faculty who can/wants to teach that course." Well, presuming that your university doesn't have a business or law school on campus, from whom you might borrow an appropriate professor every now and again, I can't help but notice that adjunct professors are very popular in academia these days, and I'm guessing that maybe you could find someone. Try a working agent, maybe. Point is, if you wanted to offer this class, you could.

There is no reason not to offer a class on this stuff. And maybe students will choose not to take that class. But if that's the case, at least then it's all on them. Your students are all presumably adults and are responsible for their own actions, to be sure. But if you're not giving them the tools to know when a huckster is hucking in their direction, if they get hulled, some of that's on you.

Speaking of which, let me know turn my attention away from the MFA writing programs and to the writing grad students themselves:

Dudes. Learn about the industry, already, before you sign a contract. Otherwise you're going to get shaved by the first jackass who waves a publishing deal in your face. Yes, I know, you're smart and clever and you write really well. You know what, your belief in your intelligence and your cleverness and your writing ability as a proxy for knowing everything you need to know about the world is exactly what's going to get you screwed. Because being smart and clever and writing well has nothing to do with the backend business of the publishing industry or reading a contract knowledgeably and dispassionately. Think about those MFA students who are now slaving away for Frey on the worst contract just about anyone in publishing has ever seen. I'm pretty sure they all think they are smart and clever and write well, too.

If your MFA program doesn't have a class on contracts and the publishing industry, ask for one. Because, Jesus, you're spending enough for your education. You might want to get some practical knowledge out of it as well. If it can't or won't offer that class to you, a) complain and b) seek out that information. The writers' organization to which I belong, SFWA, sponsors Writer Beware, which offers some of the basics about avoiding scams and bad practices, and has an informational area which includes sample contracts. Other writers' organizations also have information for you, and most bookstores will have sections on writing and the business of writing. Find that information, learn it, and use it before you have anything to do with anyone trying to make a deal with you.

But why you should have to pay extra for this essential bit of education, or search for it outside your writing program, mind you, positively baffles me.


(Scalzi, naravno... )

More about China Mieville's EMBASSYTOWN:

No cover art yet, but the book has a blurb:

    "Embassytown: a city of contradictions on the outskirts of the universe.

    Avice is an immerser, a traveller on the immer, the sea of space and time below the everyday, now returned to her birth planet. Here on Arieka, humans are not the only intelligent life, and Avice has a rare bond with the natives, the enigmatic Hosts - who cannot lie.

    Only a tiny cadre of unique human Ambassadors can speak Language, and connect the two communities. But an unimaginable new arrival has come to Embassytown. And when this Ambassador speaks, everything changes.

    Catastrophe looms. Avice knows the only hope is for her to speak directly to the alien Hosts.

And that is impossible"

Mieville will also be undertaking an American tour for the book, visiting New York, Washington DC, Boston, Seattle and Portland. I'm also hearing that Mieville's entire backlist is going to be repackaged in the UK with new cover art.

Embassytown will be published on 6 May 2011 and will be 432 pages in hardcover (not 208, as is being listed in some quarters) and tradeback.

http://www.cowboysandaliensmovie.com

New/Old Japanese SF

Many Japanese SF novels conclude with an essay exploring the context of the book and championing the author. I thought that Toshihiko Onoue's essay for The Ouroboros Wave (in stores today!) was especially interesting as it shows how closely Japanese critics and fans follow English-language SF, so I decided to print it here for you. (Note that this was published in 2002, so some of the material is a bit older and current US space policy is a bit different.) I'd definitely recommend Greg Egan and Vernor Vinge if you're coming to Haikasoru from the manga side of things and haven't read their work yet.

New/Old Japanese SF
by Toshihiko Onoue

The space shuttle program is still plagued with problems, even after the promises NASA made following the nightmare of Columbia's midair breakup. A major rethink also seems likely for the International Space Station. Today, at the dawn of the 21st century and more than three decades since the first Apollo Moon landing, it is hard to suppress a sense of impatience. How long do we have to wait for humanity to claim space as its own? Until that happens, escaping into SF that makes that future seem real isn't a bad way to spend your time. If you agree, then this book is for you.

The Ouroboros Wave appeared in 2002 as part of the Hayakawa SF Series J Collection. Set in our solar system in the 22nd century, it depicts the rich tapestry of experience encountered by human beings who are completely at home in space. A giant project—placing a black hole named Kali, discovered at the edge of the solar system, in orbit around Uranus and creating an artificial accretion disk (AAD) around it to generate energy for use throughout the solar system—serves as a central theme for a series of stories that feature mystery-solving and techno-thriller elements. The social organization adopted by humanity in space; social changes triggered by the impact of communication technologies; conflicts arising from different structures of conscious awareness; the essence of intelligence and the "necessities" it gives rise to; these and other fascinating explorations are woven together, intersecting and interacting on multiple levels.

Since the first of these stories appeared in SF Magazine, they have come to be known as the AADD series. This volume includes all but three published to date, and new full-length installment will soon be available.

Three writers in Hayakawa's J Collection, launched in 2002, gained immediate attention for their work: Housuke Nojiri [note—author of Usurper of the Sun and Rocket Girls—NM] , Yasumi Kobayashi, and Jyouji Hayashi.

Nojiri's work is straight Japanese SF in the tradition of Sakyo Komatsu, focusing on the romance and excitement of technology. Yasumi Kobayashi takes offbeat ideas and explores their logical ramifications, giving his work an unconventional flavor somewhat like that of the acclaimed, hard-SF Australian writer Greg Egan.

In contrast, Hayashi's SF builds realistic worlds using straight-pitch ideas with matter-of-fact detail and minimal window dressing. At first glance his style may seem unpolished, but it is replete with naming games and sophisticated, Japanesque accents and plot twists. Hayashi's method of building worlds on a foundation of detailed simulation probably started with his career as an author of fictional war chronicles. Of the three authors, his work may also be the closest to standard UK/American SF. In the stories collected here, the process of finding a solution to a challenge via creative application of knowledge and technology becomes the story itself. This is nuts and bolts storytelling—Analog-type storytelling, which is somewhat unusual in Japanese SF.

I'm referring, of course, not to analog vs. digital, but to the historic American SF magazine Analog Science Fiction and Fact and its predecessor, Astounding Science Fiction, which under the editorship of John Campbell Jr. featured some of the earliest work from such authors as Isaac Asimov and Robert A. Heinlein. Analog eventually became practically synonymous with hard SF. Compared to other SF magazines, Analog's stories are not as literary; the magazine leans toward idea-driven stories that combined detailed, realistic scientific/technical underpinnings with offbeat elements.

Hayashi's work, with its emphasis on problem-solving, bears comparison to the stories Analog often favors. But once cyberpunk came into vogue in the 1980s, Analog-style SF started to look dated, and for a while the genre was completely out of the running for such major prizes as the Hugo and Nebula Awards. But since the late nineties, with standard, space-based SF beginning to attract renewed attention and Analog featuring a new generation of writers, this kind of story is gradually making a comeback. "Analog-type" is a synonym for new/old SF—eager to grapple with new knowledge, new world views, and new challenges, yet presented with an established style.

In terms of concrete comparisons with other writers, Vernor Vinge would probably be a compatriot of Hayashi. Vinge's Hugo Award-winner for 2000, A Deepness in the Sky, contains echoes of The Ouroboros Wave. Vinge's novel tells of the encounter and ensuing conflicts between fleets dispatched by two space-faring human societies, both aiming to make first contact with intelligent extraterrestrials in a distant star system. One fleet takes control of the other, and a central theme is the process those who have been subjugated go through to escape their predicament. The novel also features opposing social structures, the challenges of space fleet management and control, and the ways human organizations operate under dangerous conditions. There are major differences from The Ouroboros Wave as well—Vinge's novel is set in the distant future and deals with interstellar travel, to give just two examples—but there are no extreme technologies such as warp drives; everything is a realistic, logical extension of current science and technology. Strictly speaking, Vinge is not a typical Analog-type author, but his work is a good example of the way space-based, new/old standard SF is gaining in popularity.

Vinge also has a great interest in the problems of artificial intelligence. In his essay, "The Coming Technological Singularity," Vinge expands the scope of the term "technological singularity," supposedly first suggested by John von Neumann, which refers to an acceleration of technological development so pronounced that the future beyond the singularity becomes hard to model. Vinge asserts the inevitability of qualitative shifts in artificial intelligence and human psychological processes; Hayashi's depictions of wearable computers and artificial intelligence are fundamentally in line with Vinge's outlook. Wearable computers are personal data processing terminals as well as a core network communication technology; they change the structure of human organizations and of society and culture. There are also artificial intelligences with ways of knowing the world and patterns of reasoning that differ completely from those of humans. Vinge would consider all these elements to be part of the same general vector. Hayashi does a masterful job of depicting communications technologies and AIs in the same unified framework.

As for younger writers with similarities to Hayashi, one could name space SF authors Michael Flynn, Allen M. Steele, and Geoffrey A. Landis. Of course, these authors have very different characteristics and their styles can't be lumped together, except in one sense—they all go to great lengths to depict space as a real environment. Flynn's Fallen Angels (with Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle) has been published in Japan, but unfortunately, only a few short stories by Steele and Landis are available in Japanese, and if you want to read them, you'll have to search through back numbers of SF Magazine or in anthologies (though I may be criticized for being so SF-obsessed as to go that far). Flynn's popular "Firestar" series depicts the impact that a single individual with will and resources can make on space exploration. Both Fallen Angels and Firestar are near-future SF with realistic depictions of space.

The AADD series explores a vector that also exists in UK and American SF. Is this "happenstance" or "necessity in disguise"? It may be too early to tell, but without a doubt, The Ouroboros Wave not only stands as proof of the richness of Japan's contemporary SF, it represents a new development in the history of Japanese hard SF. I think we can count ourselves extremely fortunate to have outstanding hard SF writers like Hayashi at work in Japan today.

(Nick Mamatas na haikasoru.com)

Heheh, ovo je lep tekst. Japanski tvrdi SF. Iako nisam ljubitelj hard SF-a, zbog ovog "japanski" pročitao bih nešto

A za film, Kauboji i Vanzemaljci, sam znao već odavno

Ehhh, a ja tek juče nabasala na trejler... 

(A haikasoru.com bi obavezno trebalo da detaljno overiš, sad kad si i ti u buk-bizu... tamo definitivno ima naslova vrednih prevođenja, pa možda se ti se zalomi i prilika za kakvu preporuku...  )

I još jedan vatreni debi, i to multižanrovske prirode:

Destefano, Merrie : Afterlife

Urban fantasy novel, the author's first novel and first in a series, set in a futuristic New Orleans, in which Babysitter Chaz Dominguez helps the newly resurrected (via clones) to adjust to their new lives.

"A haunting story that seamlessly blends the hard-boiled twists of cyberpunk with the noir flavor of a Southern Gothic thriller. Gritty and compelling....Truly high octane stuff."
—Marc Giller, author of Hammerjack

Bladerunner meets Jim Butcher in Afterlife, a thrilling urban fantasy noir adventure set in an alternate world where everyone gets nine lives. In the vein of J. D. Robb's bestselling 'In Death' series, author Merrie Destefano blends a futuristic concept with gritty noir mystery for a riveting story of murder, conspiracy, and multiple-resurrections that will appeal equally to fantasy, science fiction, and mystery fans. Even paranormal romance lovers will find something to love in Destefano's extraordinary Afterlife

"AFTERLIFE is a seamless combination of hard-boiled mystery, science-fiction exploration of a future based on cloned existence after death, and a fantasy struggle for the survival of good in an evil world. Merrie Destefano has made a fine start on a promising career."
— JAMES GUNN, SCIENCE FICTION GRAND MASTER

Quote from: Lidija on 19-11-2010, 13:38:55

I još jedan vatreni debi, i to multižanrovske prirode:

Destefano, Merrie : Afterlife

Da pročitam ili čitaš, pa da sačekam tvoju ocenu?

Ajde ti, mene za vikend čeka Ink.

Ajde. Kontam, ovo je nešto opuštenije.

Mada i mene čeka Ink.

Quote from: Lidija on 19-11-2010, 13:37:03
Ehhh, a ja tek juče nabasala na trejler... 

(A haikasoru.com bi obavezno trebalo da detaljno overiš, sad kad si i ti u buk-bizu... tamo definitivno ima naslova vrednih prevođenja, pa možda se ti se zalomi i prilika za kakvu preporuku...  )

Imaš na http://hollywood-spy.blogspot.com/ mnogo vesti što se tiče sveta filma...Blog je od kolege, i na engleskom je Čim naiđe kakav zanimljiv trejler, on ga okači

A za haikasoru.com, overiću, hvala na preporuci

Hm, šarolik blog...
(Jel' ono Dezmondova RL fotka? )

Da Pravo ime je...Ne bih javno To tell you the truth...Imam neke sumnje...glede nekih stvari u vezi ganje.

Michael Moorcock izgleda da pise nesto poput autobiografije. Citam odlicnu zbirku koju su uredili gaiman i Sarrantonio "Stories" i upravo sam procitao Murkokovu pricu nazvanu: "Stories"    Nisam jedini koji se zapitkivao posle procitane price, pa sam, posle malo googlanja nasao ovaj post:

Quote from: David HebblethwaiteI don't quite know what to make of this. 'Stories' is the first-person account of a magazine editor reflecting on his friendship with a writer named Rex Fisch, who has recently committed suicide. The idea of telling stories in both fiction and real life runs through this piece, and Moorcock is doing something of this himself here — his narrator is named 'Mike' and apparently modelled on himself, whilst Rex Fisch and the other characters are apparently fictional. I've no idea how far Moorcock has fictionalised his own life in the story — and therein lies the difficulty I had connecting with it.

The portrait of the characters' lives and relationships is interesting enough; but I couldn't shake the feeling that I needed to know more about Moorcock's life (and, perhaps, his work) to really appreciate this story. That's why I've ended up feeling ambivalent about it.

i komentar:

Quote from: David Mosley If it helps any, the character of 'Rex Fisch' is based on Moorcock's friend Tom Disch – author of 'new wave' sf novels ECHO ROUND HIS BONES, CAMP CONCENTRATION, 334 and many others – who committed suicide in 2008. The magazine 'Mysterious' that 'Mike' edits in 'Stories' replaces 'New Worlds' which Moorcock edited in real life. "Stories" is extracted from an episode in Moorcock's work-in-progress novel STALKING BALZAC, which according to Moorcock "expands on how Tom and I first met and at present keeps New Worlds as the magazine we all worked on".

U svakom slucaju, preporucujem i zbirku i pricu.

Bogami me Moorcock tom pričom totalno šokirao... mada ima naznaka o Dišu kao vrlo... pa, recimo kompleksnoj   ličnosti, ovo me iskreno zabezeknulo, pogotovo onaj deo sa Jenny.  

Ali zbirka je, inače, stvarno impresivna. (Btw, to je moj prvi susret sa Al Sarrantoniom.)



Nego, već je počela manija naj-lista za 2010, a LJ donosi ovih pet za SF & F:


Barclay, James. Elfsorrow. Pyr: Prometheus. (Legends of the Raven, Bk. 1). ISBN 9781616142483. pap. $17.
The mercenaries of the Raven journey to the heart of the elven continent of Calaius to save the land from dying in a superbly visualized fantasy adventure reminiscent of Glen Cook's classic Black Company tales. (LJ 11/15/10)

McCaffrey, Todd. Dragongirl. Del Rey: Ballantine. ISBN 9780345491169. $26.
Devotion and sacrifice are the twin keys that will save Pern from a plague that is killing the dragons necessary to combat the deadly space-born spore that falls from the sky. The son of sf Grand Master Anne McCaffrey continues the beloved world created by his mother. (LJ 7/10)

Miéville, China. Kraken. Del Rey: Ballantine. ISBN 9780345497499. $26.
Museum curator Billy Harrow tracks the preserved corpse of a giant squid through a London populated by cultists, paranormal investigators, and supernatural scoundrels. Brilliant storytelling and doses of eccentric humor and eerily compelling horror call to mind the works of H.P. Lovecraft, Jules Verne, and H.G. Wells. (LJ 6/15/10)

Newton, Mark Charan. Nights of Villjamur. Spectra: Bantam. (Legends of the Red Sun, Bk 1).
ISBN 9780345520845. $26.
Conspiracy and murder threaten the grand city of Villjamur as an ice age's approach brings throngs of refugees to civilization's heart. Newton's outstanding fantasy series debut is filled with splendid imagery and compelling dramatic conflicts. (LJ 5/15/10)

White, Skyler. And Falling, Fly. Berkley: Penguin Group (USA). ISBN 9780425232347. pap. $15.
A neuroscientist seeking to cure his memories of past lives meets a fallen angel of desire in an underground asylum. One of the year's most unusual blends of supernatural fiction and urban fantasy. (LJ 3/15/10)

(klan Mekafri, a? )