Rixosous

Lunacon 2010 Schedule

Once again it's time for Lunacon!  This will be my 29th Lunacon.  That's just scary.

I have a busier program schedule than last year for some reason:

Time Travelers Never Die

Continuing along Michael's list of novel recommendations, I've finally found one that I can get behind with enthusiasm: Jack McDevitt's Time Travelers Never Die (Ace Books, 2009; no editor: listed but Ginjer Buchanan* surmised from acknowledgments page) will definitely be on my nominating ballot for Best Novel.

(*Edited 3/11/10 to acknowledge that the author confirms that Buchanan is the editor.)

Despite the book's title, it opens with a time traveler's funeral.  Finding out how and why that death happened and whether it contradicts the book's title occupies most of the rest of the novel, which promptly flashes back to just before the disappearance of the dead man's physicist father and the story of the three mysterious little devices he leaves to his son, the to-be-deceased Adrian "Shel" Shelbourne, to destroy.

The devices, of course, turn out to be time machines ("converters"), which explains the locked-room-style mystery of Shel's father's disappearance as well as the very odd clothing in his closet.  Equally predictably, Shel does not destroy them, and that is the start of a wonderful set of adventures across the past in search of both Shel's father and the opportunity to interact with the major scientific and cultural figures of the past, including Galileo, Michelangelo, Socrates, Leonidas (of Sparta, just before Thermopylae), Calamity Jane, the marchers at Selma, and many more.  Time tourism has never been so much fun or so deliciously complicated, as Shel and his friend Dave try to solve the riddle of how to locate a lost time traveler with 30,000 years of the past to choose from.

Marsbound

I picked up Marsbound (Ace Books, 2008; no editor listed), on the recommendation of Michael Burstein in the Hugo recommendations comment thread, and while I enjoyed reading it, I don't think I can put it on my list of nominees.  Just as well, since it is seems to have come out in 2008 and isn't eligible this year.  Earth to Michael!  But it was fun to read while sitting home miserably sick in bed for the last couple of days.

There seems to be an odd trend lately towards the sort of YA science fiction I really loved as a little kid -- good, old-fashioned SF by major authors writing teenaged protagonists -- but it isn't being marketed as YA.  I can't tell whether that indicates cluelessness on the part of marketers or some weird conspiracy to push nostalgia buttons in older readers.  I don't necessarily object to the latter, and this particular novel starts promisingly in that regard.  Then it takes a sharp turn to a different story that feels like a considerably less-effective retread of John Scalzi's Zoe's Tale (discussed here).

Some spoilers follow, though the outcome is so predictable that I don't think they're a big problem.

A Scandalous Ball in Bohemia ~ Saturday, March 27, 2010, New Haven, CT

From the unpublished journals of J____ W______, M.D.

March 1, 188_

...after which unfortunate misadventure I arrived in his well-remembered chambers at a quarter to seven o'clock to find H_____ absent and an envelope to my address upon the mantel containing a  card of invitation for a most unusual ball:

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The honor of your presence is requested at

Eight o'clock P.M.
Saturday, March 27th
Pratt Hall

for an evening of Terpsichorean Delights in the company of

The most Bohemian citizens of London town, including 

EXPLORERS, Actors, Mesmerists, Gamblers, INVENTORS,
Artists, Opera-Dancers, WRITERS, Adventuresses,
Military Gentlemen, American Expatriates, and POETS. 

Fancy dress is Requested.

Absolute Discretion is assured to All in attendance.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

And which frozen dessert are you?

I had been planning to wear the Fluffy Ostrich Feather Thing to the Technocrat's Ball Saturday night, but it was apparent by about Thursday that it was just not going to happen.  A new plan was needed.  With a dance to run Friday night I didn't actually get around to thinking about it until Saturday morning when it was time to pack for the trip, at which point I was undecided between the Usual Black Bustle Thing with steampunk accessories, the Steampixie outfit, or some variation on the Mad Hatter bit I wore back in January to the Baltimore ball.

Since this was a CVD ball (meaning that I was not in charge of anything and expected to be dancing seriously), I ruled out the Mad Hatter, 'cause the hat is just not ideal for lively polkas and such.  I didn't want to just go with one of the other two outfits because I've worn them a lot for events.  But while I was studying the peach 1904 corset I wear with the Steampixie thing, I suddenly remembered that I had a bustle underskirt and drapery piece in very similar colors.  And I even knew where they were.  Out they came, and they turned out to be a rather good color match, though a 1904 corset does not make for the greatest silhouette with a bustle.  I cackled a little over the whole scheme, since no one expects me to wear pastels other than lavender.  I wouldn't be fabulously steampunk, but at least I'd be unusual.

Boston, again, and help wanted (Holmes fans)

This weekend is the last of my Boston trips for awhile; as soon as I get some publicity materials finished and my costume packed I'm on the road for a Steampunk ball tonight and a waltz afternoon tomorrow, with a meeting with my band interspersed to do some planning.  I'm hoping to squeeze sleep in there somewhere, too.  I'm not running these events -- this weekend is a combination of dancing for fun and event-promotion for a ball which I'm frantically trying to get planned for the end of March.

To that end:

HELP! 

Does anyone who reads Rixo have enough of a passion for Sherlock Holmes to have a general familiarity with the canon and enough writing skill to do some short (one-paragraph) epistles in the style of Doyle/Watson in the next few days?  If I had time to read heavily I could absorb some style by contagion, but (reality check) I don't right now, and it's been years since I've reread the stories, and I'm under omigodcrazy pressure to get a whole bunch of little blurbs written over the next week.  We're not talking pages and pages; more like murder-mystery clues in pastiche form, the length of this post or shorter.

Any takers?  I'm about to lose my mind here, and it occurred to me that this was something that could be delegated long-distance to pretty much anyone with some writing skill.

Hoop Dreams

I've finally gotten around to getting serious about the hooping that I started playing around with last fall at Darkovercon.  I went to a local hoop class, though I won't be able to attend very often since it meets on Fridays and I'm on the road or running dances most Fridays.  I have a hooping DVD to learn new moves from (a lot like reconstructing partner dance from video, except that my partner is a round piece of tubing).  And I got myself a really big hoop in bright shiny colors (from here).  Size matters; big hoops are heavier and easier to spin, especially at my height.  I don't have the muscles to handle a small one yet. 

The colors of my hoop (black-blue-purple-silver) make me feel like I'm letting it down by not wearing a matching costume.  Maybe that will come in the future, if I'm ever good enough to hoop in public.

Dance Flurry 2010 ramblings

As expected, I had a wonderful time this weekend up at the Dance Flurry.  I had four good sessions working with some great musicians and got some dancing in for fun in between.  The tech is very professional, and little details like having water bottles for the performers in every session are very kind.  There was much less snow on the ground this year, which made parking and walking around easier.  And I am just entirely pleased with the number and variety of sessions I got to do.  Being weird and being flexible really help -- the program director told me that they like how I can complement their more standard dance fare.  I have high hopes of being asked back next year.

Off to the Flurry

This evening I'm off to the Dance Flurry in snowy Saratoga Springs once more!  I'm feeling very well-treated by the Flurry this year.  I have four sessions.  All were in my original schedule; no last-minute add-ons.  None are Waltz 101.  Two of them (Cross-Step Waltz and Victorian Contras & Squares) are in the main hall.  This will be my first time in the main hall.  I'm working with three groups of super musicians and friends: Spare Parts; the Flying Romanos; and the wonderful Mary Lea, Jacqueline Schwab, and Dan Beerbohm.  I'll have the magnificent Jennie Worden as my teaching partner for Cross-Step.  I made the (bottom of the) list of performer highlights on the Flurry webpage, the first time I have ever been part of the advertising.  And I get to repeat my disco line dance session from last year, for which I have procured some frightening black stretch pleather bell-bottom pants by way of setting the atmosphere.

I'm a little nervous about calling the Victorian session in the main hall, but not about teaching waltz in it.  Really, that makes sense.  I know my waltz session will draw hordes of people.  Two years ago when I did it, I had to have people dance in two separate groups since there wasn't room in the (smaller) hall for everyone to dance at once.  So it's good that they're acknowledging this by giving me a bigger space.  But the Victorian session is scarier, since it will draw the modern contra dance crowd who pretty much live in the main hall, and they're used to pretty good calling and dances that are, um, less Victorian.  So that's a more challenging crowd.

I have a new and clever method for teaching going in and out of zigzags in cross-step, which I have tested with my new local students and at a waltz workshop and a private lesson in the last month.  But a big session at the Flurry will be the true test.  I am not truly concerned; the first few experiments worked well.

The fourth session is Renaissance dances; specifically, branles from Arbeau.  No worries there.  The full schedule is up on the Flurry webpage, or you can find my personal detail schedule (minus the nervous rambling) on Kickery.

I have a passenger for the ride up but will be looking for riders to keep me company on the way back.  I will also be picking up a new and larger hoop on the way, but it does not qualify as company, being nonverbal.

I won't be totally offline this weekend -- along with scary bell bottoms for myself, I have bought my laptop new travel gear* -- but I'll be too busy to check in much.  If you're at the Flurry, find me at the end of one of my sessions -- not at the beginning and please, not in the middle -- and say hello.

Along with my own sessions, I'm hoping to finally get the Hambo to stick, find out what the Texas Two-Step is all about, practice Balboa, and continue my survey of Blues Classes With No Common Elements.

* What does it say about me that I have spent ten times as much money this week on buying wearables for my laptop as for myself?

Hugo Nominations for 2009 Wanted

Well, it's getting to that time of the year again!  Hugo nominations are due March 13th.  If there's anything I ought to read in order to nominate it, now is the time to tell me.

As usual, last year I read all sorts of stuff (much of which was discussed here, findable via the Books category filter) that doesn't qualify either because it wasn't published in 2009 or because it wasn't F&SF.  So my first pass at nominations is pretty short:

I'm definitely nominating Palimpsest for Best Novel and Watchmen in DP-Long Form.  I will also nominate the opening montage of Watchmen in DP-Short Form, though I don't expect that to get anywhere.  But I thought it stood by itself and was absolutely fantastic -- more consistently so than the movie as a whole.  I am undecided as to whether to nominate Star Trek in DP-LF.  I loved it with happy nostalgic Trekkie love, but in many ways it was a terribly silly movie.

I'm probably nominating Seanan McGuire (Rosemary and Rue) for the Campbell (Not A Hugo) Award for best new writer.

I'm inclined to wait to nominate Terry Moore's Echo until the story is complete and then nominate the work as a whole if it ends strongly.

And then I'm coming up empty.  That's not a crisis; I don't always nominate much, if anything, though lately I'm making a point of reading all the fiction nominees once they're determined.  But if there's any work published in 2009 that anyone feels passionately about, please suggest it in the comments so I have time to locate and read it before the deadline.

I'll take suggestions in other categories as well, but since I'm not likely to watch any additional DPs and none of the other categories require as much lead time as the fiction ones, those are somewhat less urgent.

Here Be Dragons

The first word that comes to mind for Sharon Kay Penman's colossal second novel, Here Be Dragons (1985) is sprawling.  Seven hundred pages of masterful storytelling focus on three major figures in thirteenth century England and Wales: King John, youngest and least-loved son of Henry II of England and Eleanor of Aquitaine; Llewelyn, Prince of Gwynnedd; and Joanna, illegitimate daughter of John and wife to Llewelyn.  The tale is told as a biography of Joanna and a romance between her and Llewelyn, to whom she is married off as a teenager in a political alliance. 

Records from this period are scarce; among many things that are unclear are exactly how many children both John and Llewleyn had, and by what mothers.  But scraps of information about Joanna's life, some quite striking, remain, and Penman has done a superb job of creating a plausible tale from them.  The book is not light reading by any means; I now know more about the politics of the thirteenth century than I ever wanted to know as well as a great deal about the differences between Welsh and English laws of the era.  But it's utterly fascinating.  Only its sheer size kept me from reading it all in one sitting -- I don't have any seven-hour blocks of time!

If there's any flaw to be found, it's in the enormous cast of characters, often with confusingly repeated names.  That's apparently nothing unusual for an era in which kings economically used the same names for both their illegitimate and legitimate children.  Joanna (or Joan) herself had a younger, legitimate half-sister with the same name. 

But Penman manages to keep the story moving along briskly, shifting among her three main characters and giving brief cameo scenes to any number of others: Eleanor of Brittany; Llewlyn's son Gruffydd; John's queen, Isabelle; fellow bastard Richard Fitz Roy; and more.  Along with sprawling, the word tapestry comes irresistibly to mind for such a complex interweaving of so many characters and storylines.  After finishing the novel, I spent hours happily digging around for more information about its major and minor characters and events.

Here Be Dragons is a magnificent work of historical fiction which I highly recommend.  I can hardly wait to read her other novels; see the author's website for a complete list of the pleasures that await.

Read for yourself:

Venus in Fur (Classic Stage Company, February 6, 2010)

Oddly enough, I've never actually read Leopold von Sacher-Masoch's classic 1870 novella Venus in Furs, though that's an omission I intend to rectify quickly.  Despite having mixed feelings about previous Classic Stage productions (The Tempest, Age of Iron), I was drawn to their new, two-actor comedy/drama, David Ives' Venus in Fur, by the sparkling review it got in the New York Times and made a special trip into the city just to see it.  It was well worth the effort: I was literally on the edge of my seat for the entire ninety-minute show, performed without an intermission.

The premise might have been specifically written to attract me: a mysterious woman, coincidentally named Vanda (like the novella's Wanda), arrives to audition for Thomas, the writer/director of a play adapted from Venus in Furs.  As the two of them read scenes together, the boundaries between theater and life become blurred.  Vanda makes this explicit: "You don’t have to tell me about sadomasochism. I’m in the theater."  That comparison could as easily have been reversed; the play likewise brilliantly illustrates the theater in sadomasochism.

But who exactly is the sadist and who the masochist? 

Compulsion (Yale Rep, 2/2/2010)

I was eager to see the world premiere of Rinne Groff's Compulsion at the Yale Repertory Theatre both because the subject matter intrigued me and because I have a nostalgic fondness for Mandy Patinkin.  After not seeing him perform live for nearly three decades, this is the second time in eighteen months, after the Classic Stage production of The Tempest (discussed here).

(Left: a very nice publicity still which bears no resemblance to the actual set.)

While I am familiar with the story of Anne Frank and read and loved her diary as a child, I didn't known anything about Meyer Levin, who was instrumental in getting the diary published in the United States and then began an obsessive, decades-long attempt to get his staged version presented.  Compulsion takes the story from his first visits to a New York publisher to promote the diary in general and Anne as a Jewish victim, rather than a generic, religion-free symbol of victimhood.  That's entirely worthwhile, but Levin went right 'round the bend when Anne's father licensed a different writer's play based on the diary and proceeded to spend decades trying fruitlessly to get his version produced, suing everyone from Doubleday to Frank himself in the process. 

Mortal Engines

I like Philip Reeve's YA Steampunk novels Larklight and Starcross so much that I am quite happy to give anything else he's written a try.  I finally picked up Mortal Engines (2001), the first book in the quartet known as either the Hungry City Chronicles or simply the Mortal Engines Quartet, depending on which side of the Atlantic you're on.  Mortal Engines is once again billed as YA fiction (and even won a couple of awards as YA/children's literature), but it seems aimed at a more mature audience than the Larklight books.

The concept behind this series is grand: in a post-apocalyptic world the descendants of the survivors of the Sixty Minute (nuclear) War live in mobile Traction Cities that survive by city-eat-city Municipal Darwinism, crunching up smaller cities and towns for their raw materials and absorbing or enslaving their citizens.  Opposing them is the Anti-Traction League of non-mobile cities and villages, based primarily in Asia.  Merchant airships and scruffy independent pilots travel between the Traction Cities and the floating city of Airhaven.

Within the great city of London, Third Class Apprentice Historian Tom Natsworthy interrupts an assassination attempt on the great explorer-archeologist Thaddeus Valentine and finds himself unexpectedly left behind on the ground in the company of the prickly and mysterious Hester Shaw.  Fabulous shenanigans ensue as they try to catch up with London while being pursued by the Stalker Grike, a sort of mad cross between a Terminator and a Cyberman, who is weirdly obsessed with Hester.  Encounters with the dashing and dangerous lady adventurer Miss Fang and the comical Peavey, captain of the pirate suburb of Tunbridge Wheels and would-be gentleman, keep things lively.  But back in London, Valentine's daughter Katherine and Apprentice Engineer Bevis Pod discover that London and its Guild of Engineers are playing for much larger stakes than a few munched-up towns with the mysterious MEDUSA device.

Other than the unlikely youthful protagonists who end up at the center of events, Reeve makes no concessions to audience age.  The Stalker is scary.  The body count is high and some of the deaths genuinely painful.  There are plenty of bad puns and other jokes that will entertain adult readers.  And the world of the Traction Cities is terrific, with the simultaneously logical and hilarious concept of Municipal Darwinism and the flag-waving citizens watching on viewing screens as their cities pursue each other across the landscape while fluttering Historians classify Disney characters as "the animal-headed gods of lost America."

I highly recommend Mortal Engines and can't wait to read the rest of the quartet and its prequels.  This is exactly what I like in Steampunk.

See for yourself:

Healer

I don't usually blog about books I am rereading, given the amount of it I do.  But I'll make an exception for Healer (Doubleday, 1976; first part originally published in Analog, 1972).  I believe this was Wilson's very first novel; he's since gone on to a lively career writing SF, horror, and thrillers.

I first read Healer in the very early 1980s, and got my copy personalized, probably at a Lunacon, by Wilson in 1984.  There was a second book set in the same universe published in 1979, which I didn't care for as much, and apparently a third as well that I never read.  But Healer was one of my early SF favorites, and it still holds up thirty years later.

One small victory

Thirty-seven minutes seems like about thirty six and a half minutes more than needed to convict one "pro-life" assassin of the premeditated murder he'd admitted to in court, but maybe the jury had some procedural work to do before getting to the vote.  I can't say this trial exactly restores my faith in Kansas, which is high on my list of states I plan never to live in, but at least it shows that even in a conservative area of the country gunning down a doctor in cold blood is outside normal bounds of civil life. 

I am sorry to say that I was not confident of this. 

I was appalled that a lawyer could seriously present a case for a conviction of voluntary manslaughter on the grounds of (Kansas law) “an unreasonable but honest belief that circumstances existed that justified deadly force."  Fortunately the judge wasn't having any of that, but just think for a minute about the logical consequences of the idea of allowing "unreasonable beliefs" as an excuse for murder:

What if I'm an evangelical Christian who genuinely believes that Catholic teaching is evil and damns the souls of Catholics to eternal hell (a much worse fate than an earthly death)?  Would that justify murdering the Pope?

What if I am really convinced that "pro-life" nutcases are liable to shoot doctors who work in women's health clinics?  (I can't think why I might have that impression.)  Could I just go around shooting anti-abortion protesters in the head to prevent such occurrences?

What if I truly think that traumatized Iraq war veterans are liable to become violent and kill their wives?  Could I slaughter them in cold blood in the psych ward of a VA hospital?

What if I honestly expect that Sarah Palin would lead us into war with Iran if elected, costing thousands of lives over many years?  Not fetuses, but actual adult human beings.  Could I just gun her down at a campaign stop?

What if I think that meat-eaters are responsible for the deaths of millions of sentient animals?  Could I just take out everyone in a McDonald's who's having a bacon cheeseburger?

Regardless of whether these beliefs are reasonable or unreasonable, there are certainly people who genuinely hold them.  But the rule of law says that we don't let people go around preemptively killing others on the basis of the murderer's beliefs, honest and reasonable or otherwise.  The fact that the judge had to make this clear to a lawyer who thought he could use it as a legal defense is terrifying.  And the fact that I am actually not entirely certain that it wouldn't have worked if the assassin had, say, burst into a clinic room in the middle of an abortion procedure is even more terrifying.

But score one small victory for the rule of law against the bullies and murderers of the "pro-life" (pro-slavery, pro-rape) movement.  I wish I could believe that this represented a turning of the tide.

Worse than SteamyPunk?

Not only has Katie MacAlister written what sounds like the worst Steampunk novel ever -- romance/chick-lit with a Steampunk veneer -- she has also stolen a photograph by Tarilyn Quinn of rather more genuine Steampunk author G.D. Falksen to use as the basis for her hero in a YouTube promotional video.

The video is here, at least for the moment:

I can't believe Penguin is going to be all that thrilled about being party to theft, so it may not be up long.  Compare with the photo here.

Even aside from the whole copyright-what-copyright? angle, listening to the breathless narration makes me choke with laughter:

A whirlwind romance that just may cause their airship to combust and ignite in a passion that will forever change the world as she knows it

'Cause, y'know, the Hindenburg disaster is exactly what you want to think about in a moment of passion.

Judging from the promo, this might actually be worse than SteamyPunk, though I'm not willing to sacrifice either time or money enough to find out for myself.

(And a note to Ms. MacAlister: when I think of "igniting passion" and "incredible gadgetry," a punked-up wristwatch is not the first thing that comes to mind.)

(1/30/10 Edited to add:  The video has now been pulled; no surprise.  A screencap is at left; click to enlarge.  A copy of the video has been posted with a record of the multiple thefts of artistic property -- background, watches, etc. -- here.  The author blames it all on the video production company, MyNextDemo, which is supposedly a professional producer.  One has to wonder how many other images they've stolen for their other videos.  You can see MacAlister's failure to apologize or accept any responsibility in the comments here.)

A Clockwork Werewulf Playlist

Several people asked for the names of individual songs or a complete playlist from Saturday's Steampunk Ball.  It was an interesting event to prepare for; "Steampunk music" is a rather vague term, and much of what is labeled as such is useless for doing any sort of historical dance to.  (Left: mid-waltz at the Ball; click to enlarge)

My musical plan for this event was an eclectic mix of nineteenth-century tunes with modern tunes to which you could do Victorian dances.  I'd thought I was overpreparing, but things moved at a pretty snappy pace, so I actually went though everything I'd prepared and then some.

I didn't keep track of the music I was playing before the official start, but here is a list of the tunes, in order, that were the ball itself from when I started calling.  For the most part, I've put in links to where you can purchase either an MP3 of the individual tune or the album on which it is found.  The exceptions are where the album appears to be out of print or is otherwise beyond my ability to find online.

Shadows Return

I passionately loved the first Lynn Flewelling novel I read, The Bone Doll's Twin.  The other two books in the Tamir Triad were likewise strong, particularly the middle one: a wonderful mix of action and creepy horror, and very unusual in having a transgender protagonist in a fantasy setting.  After finishing that trilogy, I went back to read her earlier novels, the Nightrunner trilogy, which are set chronologically a few centuries after the Tamir books.  And I was underwhelmed.  They're fine, solid fantasy novels with an enthusiastic fan base, but they didn't excite me.  It was interesting to have the main protagonists be a gay male couple, and I couldn't put my finger on anything exactly wrong with the stories; certainly the writing was fine.  Perhaps, I thought at the time, I'm suffering from the earlier books' failure to meet the very high standard set by her later ones.  Assuming that she was developing as a writer, I was entirely willing to give the fourth Nightrunner book (the start of a new trilogy, I believe) a shot. 

But I had much the same reaction to Shadows Return (Bantam Spectra, 2008; editor: Anne Groell): fine book, well-written, and it just doesn't grab me much.  The kidnapping plot that separates the heroes Seregil and Alec is interesting, with nasty alchemical magic and a great deal of disturbing brutality, physical and emotional, including a kind of rape.  (Flewelling has a distinct gift for coming up with horrifying magical ritual, and she's exercising it full-force in this book.)  I was caught up in the plot and read it through at a good clip.  I'd have been happier if the earlier part of the book didn't blithely assume that the reader remembers the events of the original Nightrunner books and go on about characters that play little part in the new story.  Fortunately, all that is rapidly left behind.  But even though I enjoyed reading it, in a moderate sort of way, I just can't work up much excitement about it.

Overall, I liked it better than the first Nightrunner trilogy, and it does end in an interesting situation that makes me more intrigued by the idea of reading the next one than I would have expected.  So I do recommend it, but with only mild enthusiasm.  It's a fine fantasy novel, though potentially triggering in its torture-slavery-rape theme.  But it didn't overwhelm me.

Shopping link:

A Clockwork Werewulf: Steampunk Ball in Baltimore (January 23, 2010)

A word to any Maryland-or-vicinity Rixo folks:

I'm going to be precepting a Victorian Steampunk Ball in Baltimore this Saturday, January 23rd, 2010, as a fundraiser for research against Multiple Sclerosis.  Dancing will be creatively Victorian, to a mix of Victorian and modern music.  That means a mix of called set dances (contras and quadrilles) and couple dances (waltzes, polkas, schottisches).  There will be ample instruction and the set dances in particular are very beginner-friendly.  And yes, we will do my "Airship Pirates" quadrille in its beginner-friendly version!

For more information:

Team Greykell's blog.

There's also a Facebook page, but damned if I can figure out how to link to it directly from outside Facebook.  Color me clueless!

Any help spreading the word would be appreciated, and it would be great to see more friends there!

Echo: Volumes 1-3

Terry Moore is one of the few people in comics whose stuff I'll pick up on spec.  I went into withdrawal after he ended Strangers in Paradise a few years ago, and waited to pick up his new book, Echo, until he had a substantial amount of it out.  But I decided over the holidays that I couldn't wait any longer -- its run started in 2008 -- so I now have the first three trade paperback compilations: Moon Lake (2008), Atomic Dreams (2009), and Desert Run (2009), which between them cover issues #1-15 out of the 18 so far.  The issues and the compilations are all independently published by Moore under the imprint Abstract Studio.

Unlike SiP, which was often a bit surreal but essentially set in our own reality, Echo is science fiction.  Let me see what I can do to summarize without spoilers.

Angelic

I wouldn't talk so much about Kelley Armstrong's novels if she weren't so productive.  Angelic (Subterranean Press, 2009) is actually a novella, a little under a hundred pages, focusing on the deceased half-demon-witch-ghost-ascended-angel Eve Levine, last used in a major role as the narrator of Haunted (Otherworld #5).  As you can tell just from that capsule description, Eve's situation is pretty complicated.  While I mildly enjoyed Haunted, I was rather sorry that Armstrong killed off Eve so early in the series: offstage between the first two books.  I think I'd have liked her adventures as a living person better than I do her situation as a ghost and part-time angelic bounty hunter for the Fates.

Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors

I can't remember why I suddenly had another urge to read about cannibalism and survival while stranded in wintry mountains again so soon after last fall's reading adventure with the Donner Party, but I was suddenly seized with the desire to run off to the library and borrow Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors (1974) by Piers Paul Read.  Alive is the story of a Uruguayan plane carrying the members of a rugby team which crashed high in the Andes back in the (southern hemisphere) late winter of 1972.  There were forty-five people on the plane; sixteen of them survived two months in deep snow in the mountains, living in the plane's fractured fuselage while given up for dead by most of the world.

Arisia '10 Schedule

Arisia is coming up this weekend, and after rather overburdening myself last year I've cut back severely so that I can spend more time enjoying the convention and, in particular, indulging myself by going to just about every item that involves Musical GOH S.J. Tucker.

My panel schedule:

Saturday 1:00-2:00pm    Mask Making
Susan de Guardiola (m), Mimi Noyes, Jennifer Hunter
Masks make your personality, with costumes or not.

Sunday 7:00-8:00pm  Basic Costume Shapes
Ann Catelli (m), Susan de Guardiola, Toni Lay, Kristina Finan, Fiona Fawkes
Fundamental Costume Shapes: From T-tunics and conical skirts to cloaks, sometimes it just comes down to a basic shape. Some ideas are so adaptable they go on forever.

The first item is for Fast Track, the children's program.  The second is for adults of all ages.  I volunteered to be on it because I remember my first primitive efforts at sewing all involved geometry -- circle skirts, chemises made out of four rectangles, triangular gores, etc.  I was mostly self-taught, and basic shapes were familiar from math class.

In between these two items, my other big commitment is serving as Workmanship Judge for the Masquerade, which I'd estimate will occupy something like 6pm-11pm Saturday night.  Hence my desire for a very limited panel schedule.

Along with hitting as many of Sooj's items as I can, I'll also probably be at the Malice in Wonderland Ball and a completely random assortment of panels.  Otherwise, I'll just be hanging out.  Find me if you want to say hi!

Facebookery

I've decided to join Facebook, mostly for networking/promotional purposes for my dance stuff, since Facebook seems to be where the energy and opportunities for connection are lately, and I'm trying to be part of the 21st century.  I spent a few hours this afternoon energetically tracking down lots of people and sending out friend requests.  So far it's just people I know in real life, though I've taken a few friend requests from people I've only met online and will continue to do so to build my network.  I hadn't realized how many people I know through my various social circles, which usually don't have much overlap!

Once I figure out how it works and spend some time thinking about how much of my life I want on Facebook, I'll be doing some cross-connecting with my various blogs, websites, etc.  In the meantime, if anyone who reads Rixo is on Facebook, wants to connect with me there, and wasn't among the people I found yesterday, please feel free to send me a friend request.

Hardball

I've been reading Sara Paretsky's V. I. Warshawski detective novels for many years, so when I came across the latest in hardcover at the library while searching for true tales of human misery, I grabbed it and spent an evening reading it instead of cleaning house for company this weekend.  Oops. 

Hardball (Putnam, 2009) is the thirteenth in the series, and it follows the usual V. I. formula of having her chase corruption and murder in Chicago while persons unknown try to get her to back down from her investigation with increasingly nasty tactics.  It's a familiar formula, but it's a really good one, and Paretsky is a gripping writer who, as usual, turns out a story that's impossible to put down.

Worst. X-Men. Fanfic. Ever.

And the best taking apart ever by Rob Bricken over at Topless Robot:

It's like Babelfish decided to write its own erotic fan fiction.

I'm not going to dignify the writer by mentioning his name or by linking to his fanfic, but you can read Rob's fabulous commentary -- and the entire fic -- here.  For the first part of it, I was laughing so hard I was actually wheezing while tears (of hilarity) streamed down my face.  But be warned: it turns graphically violent (rape, murder, cannibalism, etc.) by the middle.  If you're freaking at the first kitten, stop there, 'cause it gets a lot worse.

(I mean, the violence gets worse.  The writing...really can't get worse.)

Hat tip to Paul Constant at Slog for this one.

Dodd is out

Dodd pulling out wasn't exactly a surprise, given his political troubles of late.  I'm on his mailing list, so a resignation letter, presumably a transcript of his speech, arrived at lunchtime, somewhat behind the political gossip.

It was thoughtful:

...none of us are irreplaceable.

None of us are indispensible [sic].

Those who think otherwise are dangerous.

The work to make our nation a more perfect union began long before I was elected to the Senate, and it will go on long after I'm gone. Our country is a work in progress. And I am confident it always will be.

And included some refreshing honesty:

...there is nothing more pathetic than a politician who announces they are only leaving public life to spend more time with their family.

The result of this announcement today will, I hope, create that opportunity -- but it is not the reason for my decision

And signed in that over-casual way with just a first name:

Thank you,

Chris

I can't quite bring myself to be on a first-name basis with elected officials I've never met and wish they would not try for it, even in email.

My response:

Dear Senator Dodd,

Despite your political misfortunes over the past year, I believe you've generally done a good job in office.  I've been proud to have you as my senator, and I would have been happy to vote for you again.  I will never forget your "first hour" speech during the last Presidential campaign and the way you focused on the damage done to our Constitution by the Bush administration.

I hope you will spend your last year in office working to pass health care, immigration reform, and some sort of financial regulation.

Thank you for your service to Connecticut and to our country.

Sincerely yours,

Susan de Guardiola

He's going to be replaced in the race by our Attorney General, Richard Blumenthal, whose positions I generally agree with but whom I found when I saw him in person to be the epitome of the slick politician.  I have no special urge to work for him, but he'll be heavily favored to hold the seat; losing Dodd makes me sad but is a strategic improvement for the Democratic Party.  So this slightly narrows my choices for political work over the next couple of years.

Out of the football closet

I'm a weird sort of football fan who never actually watches football anymore (having no television and no time) but who for assorted reasons (childhood programming and adult masochism) follows football compulsively during the NFL season.  The Sports Illustrated online Power Rankings are the highlight of my Wednesday afternoons for five solid months of the year.

So I must confess that I am a very happy camper today because both my teams won yesterday, which means both of them are actually in the playoffs.  To quote Strictly Ballroom:

That was unexpected.

The odds of them meeting in the Super Bowl are low, but they both have a decent shot at winning at least one game.  If they both make it all the way...well, I'll worry about whom to root for if it happens.

The menu is cheering

This afternoon's dance event was one of those mixed joys: I went out just for fun, but it turned into advertising, which is professionally good but made guys scared to dance with me.  I hate that tradeoff.  And while the drive back was fine, with minimal snow and occasional glimpses of sunshine, the drive back was slow and nasty in a snowstorm.

I had dinner with the band before heading home, since we do a lot of business together and wanted a chance to chat.  We went off to a diner which had one of those diner menus that covers a wide range of cuisines and every meal from breakfast to dinner.  But it was a bright-pink menu insert that caught my eye:

Sautés Specialties

I wouldn't make fun if it if that were the only error, but inspecting the dishes listed below just got funnier and funnier.

Ragtime (Broadway, December 30, 2009)

It feels like I'm starting to make a habit of dashing into the city around the year-end holidays and seeing a show or two before the early-January closings (last year's expedition involved Spamalot and Hairspray).  This year, I was actually on an emergency costume supply run and had plans for dinner with a friend, so I decided to see if I could catch the soon-to-close revival of Ragtime at the matinee.  I hadn't seen the original back in 1998; I was just starting grad school and had no money for shows then.  Nor have I read the E.L. Doctorow's novel.  So all I really had to go on was the reasonably positive New York Times review, balanced by the fact that planning to close only six weeks after opening does not suggest a vote of confidence from audiences.  I decided it didn't warrant spending too much money, so I gave the show's lottery a try, and after entering a complex three-person consortium got lucky with the very last of the $25 tickets, which put me in the very last seat of the front row, extreme stage right, right under a speaker.  That wasn't exactly ideal, though it didn't stop me enjoying the show.

Tales of the Slayers

I never actually finished watching Joss Whedon's two biggest television series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel. I got as far as season five (of seven) and season two (of six), respectively, before burning out, though I do mean to go back and watch the rest one of these days.  But I found out at Whedon's talk at Wesleyan back in the spring that not only did Whedon admit the influence of my beloved Tomb of Dracula on Buffy, he'd actually gotten ToD artist Gene Colan to illustrate the 1970s slayer story in the comic book anthology Tales of the Slayers (Dark Horse Books, 2001) by way of a little subtle homage.  So I put it on my family wish list and promptly forgot about it until I unwrapped it on Christmas day.

First thought after reading it: what a depressing bunch of stories!

Second thought: okay, to be fair, they weren't all depressing, and the sad tone shouldn't have been a surprise anyway, since he'd made the point in the television show that most Slayers did not survive very long and that Buffy was unique in having a cluster of friends and a life outside vampire-slaying.

I'm going to talk rather carefully around the plots of the stories to avoid spoilers (though since this came out in 2001, presumably anyone who cares has read it already), and since I expect that this will only be of interest to Buffy fans, I'm not going to bother with background.  So if you know nothing about the Buffy universe, the rest of the post probably won't make much sense.

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes is the eighth movie I've seen in theaters this year, which is probably the most I've ever seen in one year in my entire adult life.  I freely admit that I dashed out to see this one on opening day because of my eye for the talented and attractive Robert Downey, Jr., in the title role.  I'm also a moderate Sherlock Holmes fan, in the sense of having read and enjoyed all the stories more than once, but not the rabid sort of fan that's going to obsess on all the details.  I've paid enough attention to be aware that the typical Basil Rathbone-style movie treatment with Holmes as an older guy in a deerstalker cap is a rather limited view of a character, who, if you go by information given in the stories, was a drug-addicted manic-depressive with substantial martial arts skills (swordfighting, wrestling, professional-level boxing, and "baritsu"), a total slob who shoots up his apartment walls when bored -- that scene is in the movie -- along with shooting up cocaine, and who was in his twenties or thirties during most of the cases.  I was already aware from the trailers and advance publicity that this was going to be a more lively Holmes than usual, and I was rather curious to see the results.

Overall: I was pleased by Downey as Holmes and Jude Law as Watson and thought the overall concept of the character as a man of both brains and action was quite acceptable.  But I did have some problems with the film.

Disney's A Christmas Carol

I don't know what goes on in Robert Zemeckis' head.  With a talented cast including Jim Carrey, Bob Hoskins, Colin Firth, and Gary Oldman, why exactly would he want to use motion capture technology to create a creepy animated version of A Christmas Carol rather than just film it in live action?  I don't get it.

I went to see Disney's A Christmas Carol less because I felt the need to see another adaptation of it than because my friend Matt Henerson had several small roles¹, though the mo-cap/animation thing meant he was entirely unrecognizable.  Seeing it on a weekday morning almost two months after its release meant that I got to watch it in solitary splendor, my very own private showing at the local multiplex.

Foundation (no, not that one)

Just what kind of chutzpah does it take to give a mediocre novel which is the nth in a long fantasy series the title of one of the most famous science fiction novels of all time?  Possibly the same chutzpah that makes Mercedes Lackey beg the comparison by stating on her webpage that she intends to surpass Asimov's total of a hundred novels in her lifetime.

Quantity is not the same thing as quality.  I've read Isaac Asimov.  Misty Lackey, you are no Isaac Asimov.

I need an intervention to stop me from reading this series.  I thought the last time I had this reaction (why is my guilty pleasure no longer pleasurable?) to a Valdemar book it was because it was an anthology of stories mostly by other authors.  Nope.  Foundation (DAW Books, 2008), gods help us, is the first of yet another Valdemar trilogy featuring an abused adolescent who is chosen by a Companion, a spirit-being which appears in the form of a horse of unusual intelligence and eye color.  Young Mags (short for Magpie) is, of course, unbelievably talented and rapidly finds himself at the center of political intrigue which presumably will grow to kingdom-threatening proportions over the next couple of books, resulting in a major war during which one of his friends will die a tragic death and he will form a relationship of true love with one of the other characters.  There: I've saved you reading not only this book but the next two as well.  Valdemar novels are nothing if not predictable.  But even within those parameters, this one really is just phoned in, with adolescent angst-once-removed left dripping all over the page without explanation and not even a pretense of bringing any resolution to the foreign-intrigue subplot.  Even the identity of the enemies is left dangling: characters state that they know who the mysterious evil dudes are, but no one sees fit to enlighten the reader.

I can't believe that DAW brought this out in hardcover; needless to say, I waited for this fall's paperback edition.  Even so, I felt rather cheated.  I picked this book up as fluffy reading to help recover from my hideously busy fall, but this is not even satisfying fluff.  It's like finding your cotton candy has been replaced by polyfill: ack, ptui!

Lackey obviously has an audience for this plot, or the books wouldn't stay in print and keep coming out, but do yourself a favor: don't be part of it this time around.  Don't spend your money.  But if you must, use the link below (left).  Or, better yet, buy the original of this plot: the very first Valdemar novel, Arrows of the Queen (right), back when Valdemar and its standard story were still fresh and it seemed like Lackey actually cared.

Survived!

Well, I survived.  Four months of non-stop work, divided between my day job (which gets very intense in the fall) and my dancing and teaching (every single weekend since Labor Day).  Things become calm now for a couple of weeks, then the dancing starts to pick up again in mid-January.  I'm going to my mom's in New Jersey for Christmas this weekend and probably popping into the city sometime in the next couple of weeks to do some costume-related shopping and see a show and friends.  But mostly, it's going to be calm.  No day job from 12/23 to 1/3.  No teaching except my regular Monday night group.  Time to catch up on sewing, cleaning, reading, blogging, email, and sleep.  I'm hoping this year my winter break will not be eaten up by illness the way it was last year after I similarly worked myself into the ground beforehand.  And I did finally score a vaccination for H1N1, for which immunity should kick in this weekend.

To celebrate, I went to the comic shop after work and picked up four issues of the original 1970s run of Tomb of Dracula, including one of the Giant-Size quarterly issues and #4, one of the pre-Marv Wolfman issues.  I now have 48 of the 70 issues, including the very first one and the first-appearance-of-Blade issue, and three out of five Giant-Size.  Most of what I'm missing is from the first twenty issues.  I realize I could probably complete my collection very quickly via eBay, but really, it's not nearly as entertaining as rummaging through boxes in comic shops.  The hunt is part of the fun.

My holiday spirit this year is just about nonexistent.  No tree, no lights, gifts for only five friends and family members.  My big effort today consisted of wearing snowman earrings to work.  I hope everyone else is more cheerful and less exhausted.

A Play of Treachery

I'd been keeping an eye out for Margaret Frazer's latest Joliffe mystery since I read the first four of them back in the summer.  Taking up shortly after 2007's A Play of Lords in the autumn of 1435, A Play of Treachery (Berkeley Prime Crime Historical Mystery, 2009) takes Joliffe away from his company of players and off to France to serve as a spy in the household of the widowed young Duchess of Bedford.  That answers my immediate question after reading the first four books, which was where Frazer could take her character after having his formerly poverty-stricken acting troupe perform for the highest nobility in London.  The answer, apparently, is away from his troupe entirely.  I have mixed feelings about this, since for me part of the attraction of this particular series is the chance to read about 15th-century players and early English drama.  Taking the theater out of it lessens my interest, and I'm sorry to lose track of the other players.  On the other hand, the character of Joliffe himself, with his mysterious background and multiple unexplained aliases, is still compelling, and I haven't lost hope that he will eventually go back to being a player along with a spy.

Dear Odyssey

Dear Odyssey organizers,

Thank you for the lovely postcard encouraging me to attend Odyssey in order to "improve my Science Fiction, Fantasy, or Horror writing."  While I am grateful to be thought of, I think that a six-week workshop costing $1900 (plus room and board) is perhaps a little more than is strictly necessary to take my fiction writing to the "next level" when the movement in question is from the level of "totally nonexistent" to the admittedly important level of "producing even one sentence, no matter how awful."

I am also a little puzzled by your metaphor:

"...strap yourself to the mast this summer and attend..."

While I recognize the reference to your namesake poem (and assume it metaphorical since your location in Manchester, New Hampshire, is not easily reached by sea), I feel that it sends an odd message to the prospective student.  In the scene in question Odysseus is tied to the mast so that he may hear the song of the Sirens and not respond to it by jumping into the ocean and drowning himself.  Is the prospect of writing as a career the Siren song that one pursues only at the risk of self-destruction?  If the student is placed in the role of Odysseus, are the instructors intended to be the Sirens, whom it is dangerous to hear and fatal to respond to?  That seems to suggest that the student should attend in order to listen to the instructors' tempting advice, but under no circumstances follow it.  Or are the instructors the sailors with their ears plugged, made immune to the Siren song themselves and serving to convey Odysseus past the Sirens and ignore his pleas, tying him more tightly when he attempts to respond?  Would that make the Siren song the temptation to use a vanity press?   Or some other hazard on the road to publication?

Metaphorical tangles aside, while I am not personally conservative or easily shocked, I feel that even the suggestion of bondage games with publishing professionals may create a certain wariness in many of your potential attendees.

Sincerely yours,

Susan de Guardiola

P.S. While I realize that noted authors, agents, and editors are above such trivial concerns as proofreading, I can't help but think that I would be more enthusiastic about accepting criticism of my writing from people who get my name right on the mailing label.

One more weekend...

One more weekend on the road, then things become calm for the holidays with three relatively quiet weekends in a row.  I can't wait.  But this weekend I'm headed up to Boston for two events:

On Saturday night, I will attend the Fezziwig Ball in Salem, which is being held by my good friends in the Commonwealth Vintage Dancers.  They've asked for costume from the lifetime of Dickens, which means 1817-1870.  I suspect they're looking more for 1830s-1860s, but I plan to take advantage of the early part of the range and wear something Empire-waisted.  With luck, this will include wearing new stays, gown, and still-TBD outer garment (since the ball is preceded by a lantern-light parade).  How much of this actually happens...well, let's just say it's going to be a long night in the sewing room.  I've already decided, given the likely temperature and my lack of sewing time, that punting on a bonnet and going with my black sheepskin hat and muff for the parading is probably a good idea.

On Sunday, I'm running an afternoon tea dance in Cambridge for CVD and Eclectic Enterprises' Mostly Victorian Tea Dance series.  (Update 12/20/09: This tea dance is CANCELED due to severe weather conditons.)  I'm likely to not be in costume for this one due to general lameness and the fact that long gowns make it harder to teach and demonstrate steps.   The format is an instruction period followed by social dancing followed by more advanced instruction, food, and more social dancing.  The dances will be a general 19th-century mix of couple dances (waltz, polka, schottische, galop) and set dances (contras, quadrilles).  I will probably focus the teaching on the schottische and polka.  Music will be some mix of recorded and live.

Given that schedule and the fact that I want to spend time Sunday morning with the friend I'm staying with, I won't really have time to socialize outside of these dances during this trip, but I would love to chat with anyone who's coming to either of these events.  I will have much more time for this at the ball than at the tea dance, since I'm not in charge of anything at the ball.

A Night in the Lonesome October

I promised, after Clifton and Paul's strong recommendations, that I would read Roger Zelazny's final novel, A Night in the Lonesome October (Morrow/AvnoNova, 1993), the minute it arrived.  It actually arrived last Wednesday, but I had a crush of work at the day job and then a completely insane weekend followed by several nights of coming home from the day job and simply passing out from exhaustion.  I kept trying to read it and falling asleep, including once, memorably, for about fifteen minutes over the check in a restaurant.  (I left a larger-than-usual tip.)  This makes it sound like it might be a dull book, but truly, it is not.  Once I finally caught up on my sleep I burned through it very quickly.

Illustrated with rather weird line drawings by Gahan Wilson, A Night in the Lonesome October consists of thirty-two brief chapters (a prologue plus one for each day of the month) covering a supernatural Game which takes place only when the moon is full on Halloween night.  The players and other characters are taken from or inspired by famous works of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century literature: the Count, the Good Doctor, the Great Detective, etc.  Fortunately, Zelazny did not make the mistake of trying to write in an overwrought nineteenth-century style.  And he was quite a good enough writer that even though I hadn't actually read all the works upon which he drew, it all worked perfectly for me.

Overbooking

My relaxing weekend:

Friday

4:30 PM: Official end of work day at day job.

5:30 PM: End of mandatory-attendance formal presentation event.  Grab portable food and return to office to deal with ongoing crisis.

6:00 PM: Give up solving crisis before Monday morning.  Send email to this effect to those affected.  Actual departure from day job.

6:15 PM: Arrive home.  Frantically do food prep for evening's dance.  Spend fifteen minutes churning through green room looking for black evening pants.  Remember why it is a bad idea to have all one's clothing be black.  Find pants neatly on hanger on costume rack.  Why are they there?  Finish dressing, do hair, load car.

7:15 PM: Out the door for dance.

11:45 PM: Return home from dance, richer but completely exhausted.  Remember that I promised to read Zelazny book as soon as I received it.  Received it Wednesday.  Late.  Oops.  Crawl into bed and open book.

Very soon after: Fall asleep while reading page three of book.

3:44 AM: Wake up with book on lap, glasses still on face, and light still on.  Remove glasses and book, turn out light, go back to sleep.

In The Next Room, or the vibrator play (Lincoln Center Theater/Broadway, December 5, 2009)

I'm getting a bad case of theatrical whiplash here.  The last work I saw of playwright Sarah Ruhl's was the magnificently surreal Passion Play at the Yale Rep.  The last time I saw Laura Benanti she was taking her clothes off as the famous stripper Gypsy Rose Lee in Gypsy.  The last time I saw Michael Cerveris he was playing the title role in Sweeney Todd (which also starred Patti LuPone, who played Momma Rose in that same producion of Gypsy).  What a small theatrical world it is.

I don't even know how to describe In The Next Room, or the vibrator play, and it's difficult to discuss without drifting into double entendre.  It's a sex comedy without sex, made all the more insane by the characters' ignorance of what the sensation caused by the "thermal electrical massage" actually is.  I think most of the audience was laughing as much in nervousness and embarrassment as genuine amusement; female sexual response is not something people are used to seeing or discussing.  But I also found it unbearably sad; all the characters except the black wet nurse (who, in an annoying bit of stereotyping, is the only woman really in touch with her body, in contrast to the repressed white women) are estranged in some way from both their spouses and their own bodies.

Piratica II: Return to Parrot Island

There are spoilers for the first book, Piratica, below.  You have been warned.

My copy of Piratica II: Return to Parrot Island (Dutton, 2006) arrived with remarkable speed, and I devoured it just as quickly.  The subtitle this time is "Being: The Return of a Most Intrepid Heroine to Sea and Secrets."  This direct sequel to Piratica (discussed here) finds pirate Art Blastsides and her husband, artist Felix Phoenix, married and retired to a beautiful country estate in the year Seventeen-Thirtenty (approximately 1803).  Her crew is scattered, with some trying to make a living as actors and one involved in smuggling.  It's not quite a happily-ever-after opening; none of them are quite as happy or successful on land as they were at sea except perhaps Muck, the Cleanest Dog in England, who has been adopted by an adoring young lady who finds him much more interesting than her fiancé. 

In the wake of Art's exploits in the previous book, all of England has succumbed to Piratomania:

Inside twenty paces, Eerie swerved around ten cutlassed and beplumed persons, three with stuffed parrots glued to their shoulders, one with a real parrot standing on her head, two pet monkeys in boots with small sword belts, and a carriage horse with a feathered three-cornered hat and black eye patch.

I can't help wondering whether this is a poke (affectionate or otherwise) at the many pirate-reenactor groups (of varying degrees of historical accuracy) that exist and hold pirate feasts and cruises and such.  Whatever her intention, it's quite funny.  And Piratomania has, naturally, produced a sort of anti-pirate salvation army movement, the Pirate Intolerance Regiment and Teatotalers of England (PIRATE), who drink nothing but tea and try to save citizens from "Buccaneerafear."

Barbara Hambly's Further Adventures Of...

I was just tipped off to Barbara Hambly's new experiment in direct fiction sales by a friend and went off to her website to find out all about it.  The short version: people keep asking for more stories in certain of her series that publishers have dropped.  So she's going to write short stories and sell them directly via her website, starting with a pair of previously-published Benjamin January tales (historical mysteries set in 1830s New Orleans) and a brand-new Windrose Chronicles story (Joanna and Antryg).  I downloaded all three, though I skipped a universe-crossing pastiche that was also available, at $5 each, and was quite pleased with my purchases.  Payment was via Paypal and the stories arrived within half an hour or so in PDF format.

Piratica

The advantage of long bus rides: much time to read while someone else deals with the traffic.

I was fully intending not to shop at Philcon, but how could I resist a Tanith Lee novel with the subtitle "Being a Daring Tale of a Singular Girl's Adventure Upon the High Seas"?  I hadn't realized Tanith Lee wrote YA fiction, but I was certainly game to try it.

Piratica (Dutton, 2004) is the tale of one Artemesia Fitz-Willoughby Weatherhouse, daughter of deceased pirate queen Molly Faith and currently a student at the Angels Academy for Young Maidens in the year Seventeeen-Twelvety in an England that is just a bit different from our own.  This is a fantasy world in the swashbuckling romance-of-piracy sense, not in the dragons-and-magic sense, though there are some unusually well-trained parrots.  Artemesia has some memory problems as after-effects of the cannon explosion that killed her mother, but once she remembers her past (or does she?), she doesn't stay long at the Academy.  Enter one Art Blastsides, would-be pirate queen; her parrot Plunqwette; and her scurvy crew, currently working as adverteers for a coffee magnate. 

Windows for Illiterates

What does the print advertising for Windows 7 say to me?

It may take fewer clicks (than what? Vista?), but I bet using a Mac is still less hassle overall.

 I don't know; how do you feel about being Windows users being portrayed as semi-literate?

Thanks, and resolutions

As usual, I'm spending my Thanksgiving quietly at home by myself.  Also as usual, this is fine; I've never been attached to the holiday traditions and I'll have plenty of socializing this weekend.  I have invitations I could accept if I really wanted to.  But I don't.

I haven't done much so far except catch up on my sleep when I really ought to be sewing, cleaning, or doing something else useful.  But it's been such a crazy fall that I'm burnt to a sad little cinder and just need the downtime before heading down to Maryland tomorrow.

Not being religious, I don't devote any time today to thanking a deity for anything, but I do want to thank those of you who are still reading Rixo despite my very peculiar posting schedule.  I think I've mentioned before that I've acquired this hideous habit of writing posts and then not finishing them, or not adding the pictures, or for whatever reason/excuse putting them on hold.  Sometimes I get around to posting them much later, but I have a frightening number of them just sitting around in draft form.  I keep thinking I'm going to come up with brilliant things to add to a post if I just wait a bit longer and maybe fuss with it a bit more.  This is delusional; if I've got the ability to be verbally witty on a regular basis, it's yet to become obvious. 

And that's not a fish for a compliment.  I'm a dance historian, not a writer.  I like being a dance historian, even though this fall it's just about killing me with overwork.  But it makes me a bad blogger.  No blogger biscuit for me.  I'm more grateful than you can imagine that some folks are still reading and my wonderful little group of commenters is still puttering around in the comment threads making cheerful conversation and the occasional bad pun, even when I vanish for weeks on end.  I'd like to have even more commenters, but I realize I've got to give people something regular to chew on in order to inspire this so we can create a happy positive feedback loop and collectively raise each other's beta-endorphins or whatever.  I feel like mine could use this.

So I'm going to try to do two things over the next month:

Darkovercon 2009 Schedule

Here's a rather belated schedule (my fault, not theirs) of what I'm doing at Darkovercon this weekend down in Maryland.  As usual, I'm mostly doing dance stuff, and this year everything is packed into one crazy day:

Saturday 11:00am-1:00pm
Early Playford Dances (1650-1670)
Weird country dances from the early editions of The Dancing Master, mainly unusual stuff: progressive rounds, longways multifigure progressives, and some of the more exotic short-set dances.  In previous years we've done this on Friday afternoon and had a small but game crowd.  I've no idea how well it will work on a Saturday morning.

Saturday 5:00-7:00pm
Regency Ball
Early 19th-century dancing, with live music and without the fancy historical steps.

Saturday 9:00-11:30(ish)pm
Clam Chowder Concert/B.O.G.S. fundraiser
I'm not a member of the musical group -- anyone who's heard me sing will be relieved to hear this -- but for the past twelve years I've run a fundraiser at the intermission on behalf of Children's Hospital.  I hope to bring in a couple of thousand dollars this year despite the recession/depression/unemployment rate.  The story of this fundraiser is related here; it started as a joke, but has evolved into a major charity event.  I'll be one of the folks up on the stage begging for money.

As usual, I'd be happy to see any Rixo readers who are attending the convention.  Saturday may not be the best day for this, but Friday and Sunday should be pretty relaxed. 

Other things I hope/plan to do at the con:

• hear Emma Bull (one of this year's guests) speak
• something craftsy; maybe the Kumihomo braiding
• attend the Steampunk Chrononauts Parade at 7:00 Saturday evening, though actually participating may be overly optimistic given that it's squeezed between the ball and the concert
• attend the midnight singing of the Hallelujah Chorus (but I won't be singing, just experiencing)

I will be traveling by bus once again, hopefully with a smoother return trip than last year.

Chalice

I was glad I'd picked up some light reading Saturday before leaving Philcon so I had something to read in Gettysburg late at night while trying to unwind from the ball and then in the morning over breakfast.  I hadn't considered myself a particularly passionate Robin McKinley fan before reading Sunshine, but I liked that novel so much that when I stumbled across Chalice (Putnam, 2008, no editor listed; paperback Ace, 2009), I picked it up purely on the strength of the author's name.  I was pleased to find that it was a good read, though not as overwhelmingly brilliant as Sunshine.  But the similarities in plot and character were a little startling.

Philcon 2009 Schedule

I'm a complete zombie this week because it's the craziest time of year at my day job.  That means I'm looking forward to a con in order to catch up on my sleep/email/blogging.  Isn't that awful?

So, I'll sort of be at Philcon this weekend.  Once again I'm doing the "doughnut" version of the convention, with brief attendance wrapped around running a ball elsewhere.  I'll be there sometime Friday evening, though I'm not clear on my arrival time, and Saturday morning-into-early-afternoon.  Then I will leave to go do my usual dance gig in Gettysburg.  I'll return to the con Sunday morning and be there until I feel like going home.  I'll mostly be working in Program Ops (details still TBD), but I'll be on a few program items.  Here's the list with official descriptions:

Sat 1:00-2:00 PM in Plaza V
New Trends in Costuming: Steampunk, Gothic Lolita, Variations
Panelists: Susan de Guardiola (mod), Lisa Ashton
    Costuming is a diverse hobby, and offers something for everyone.  Take a look at some of these "newer" hot trends, how to build them, where to get inspiration

Sun 1:00-2:00 PM in Plaza III
Historical Corsetry
Panelists: Susan de Guardiola (mod), Lisa Ashton
    All those wonderful fantasy corsets that we dream about on our female heroes--learn from our experts about the real historical corsets that they are based on

Sun 2:00-3:00 PM in Plaza V
Writers That Should Have Quit When They Were Ahead
Panelists: Susan de Guardiola (mod), John Moore, Lee Gilliland
    Which writers work never lived up to their early promise

I'm also listed as being on "The Invasion of the Janeites" on Saturday at 5:00 PM, but they're going to have to take me off it since I'll be long gone to Gettysburg by then.

I vaguely hope to hit at least a few of these panels, though a reality check suggests that it's not likely to happen:

Fri @ 7: A Science Fiction Curriculum for Newcomers (because this is an endlessly arguable topic)

Fri @ 8: Cory Doctorow on Copyright (because it's Cory Doctorow)

Fri @ 10: Naughty Bits (bawdy ballads, always fun)

Fri @ 10: We Started this Cult Film S**t!  (Repo! panel)

Sat @ 10: Riding a Wave of Looking Backwards (Victorian/steampunk)

Sat @ 11: The Age of Anonymous (net, hacking, Cory Doctorow)

Sat @ 11: The Editors Panel (Short Fiction) (curious to hear Neil Clarke of Clarkesworld)

Sat @ 11: The Fannish Generation Gap (which I feel like I am in the middle of)

(Yeah, I have a little problem at 11; usually I solve this by not going to any of them)

Sat @ 12: Makeup Mini-Demo ('cause I suck at stage makeup)

Sat @ 2: Cory Doctorow reading (self-explanatory, right?)

Sun @ 11: Is The Short Story On Its Way Out? (reality check says I won't be back in time for this)

Sun @ 3: The Future of Print Genre Magazines (of vague interest to me)

Obviously one of the exciting things for me this year is Cory Doctorow as a special guest.  I am, um, less excited about Catherine Asaro as Principal Speaker.