Monthly Archives: September 2004

When I was 12 and 14 and 17, in the golden age of discovering wonder and discovering new writers to provide it, I would fixate on each new writer and seek out all their books I could find and read them in relatively short order; I suspect this is a pattern not uncommon among new readers of SF even today. And so I read a dozen books by Asimov in the 1969-70 timeframe; more than a dozen by Bradbury in the same era (I remember a trip to Printer’s Ink in a suburban Chicago mall and buying every Bradbury paperback I did not already have); a double dozen by Clarke then too. (Ironically, since I’m not generally a genre movie fan, the first book by Asimov I read was Fantastic Voyage, and the first book by Clarke, 2001.) Heinlein came a bit later, with more than 2 dozen read in the ’71-’73 era. [I keep lists.] And I discovered Robert Silverberg, who showed me what seemed at the time an expanded, more literary and mature, genre; I read 50 of his books (only a few of them anthologies) from 1970-1973.

Along about 1973, via A Change of Hobbit bookstore in Westwood and the then-mimeographed Locus, I became aware of the active SF community, what books were being published each year, what was happening ‘now’. I started buying new hardcovers (Rendezvous with Rama; Time Enough for Love) and paying attention to current Hugo and Nebula ballots. I can recall what was on those 1973 ballots more accurately than I can recall those ballots from last year.

Now, things have become reversed. My decade-plus stint reviewing short fiction for Locus cost me the ability to keep up on current novels, even those on the H/N ballots, even those by my favorite writers. With that stint now past, and despite the challenges and difficulties of a personal relationship with someone who’s not sympathetic with the idea of reading books at all, I’m starting to catch up on things I’ve missed — in a manner resembling the early pattern of author-focused reading. And so, here I am having read Joe Haldeman’s Camouflage the week before Worldcon, and subsequently pulling his books from the past decade off my shelves to read next. Guardian, on the plane flight home. The two Forever novels next; I hope to finally settle my confusion over which of them was a sequel to The Forever War and which wasn’t. Yes, I’m embarrassed to admit to not having read so many important books of the past decade and a half. I wish there was more time.

I’ve never met John Shirley, as it happens, despite having posted and paid for numerous film reviews of his over the past three years. I’ve also not met Jeff Berkwits, Gabe Chouinard, Lucius Cook, Nick Gevers (in his case, very few have, since he’s far away in South Africa), Rich Horton, Phil Shropshire, or Cynthia Ward, to name several past and still-active contributors to Locus Online. It’s not necessarily true, in this age of easy commercial airline travel and easy online communication, that people have actually met; not much more often, I’d suppose, than 50 years ago when John Campbell and other New York editors sat in their offices and met only those writers who troubled to journey to the city.

I did meet John Joseph Adams this past week in Boston. I owed him a check.

It’s curious, or odd, that though I live in a major metropolis (Los Angeles), I only associate with SF-folk when I go to conventions. There’s not an active SF community of writers or fans or semi-professionals here, the way there is in the Bay Area, or Seattle, or elsewhere, at least none that I’m aware of. Yes, I’ve met Harlan Ellison and David Gerrold numerous times, at conventions or more informally, but not to the point of being associated with an SF community here of which they’re a part. Perhaps it’s due to the hugeness, the diffuseness, of the metropolis, or the way SF folk here are likely to be part of the TV/film community, and thus somewhat above the fan/semipro SF crowd. Or maybe it’s just my nature, not especially outgoing, as happy to sit at home reading a book, or tapping away at my computer, as going to parties or hanging out with fans.

Here’s one thing Charles Brown taught me: use a credit card that accumulates frequent flyer miles for every amount purchased; use the miles to upgrade — not to buy — but to upgrade a purchased economy class ticket. That gets you first class on most flights. I did that for the flight from LA to Boston and back (though the upgrade wasn’t confirmed until the last minute–at check-in, each time).

What could be better than flying first class? You sit in a comfy chair, with food and drink supplied regularly, and read a book for 4 or 5 hours uninterrupted!

I don’t fly frequently — once or twice a year — and the scheme doesn’t always work; depending on availability, how far ahead you book your reservation. It did this time.

I returned to the palatial Villa Medina to find that my domestic partner had rearranged furniture and hosted a party for his work associates in my absence, which was entirely appropriate for reasons not to be detailed here.

World Fantasy Con? Still a perhaps.

Today was more productive, and better scheduled. I actually attended several panels–on the New Weird, on the best books of the year so far, on time travel, on ‘mixed marriages’ (in which one spouse is a fan and the other isnt’t). Had breakfast with several Locus-folks over at the Sheraton, later had a drink with an editor whose party I had missed hooking up with for breakfast yesterday, and went out to dinner with two Del Rey editors and three Locus-folks. In between I bought several more books, and a souvenir or two to take back home.

Highlights: strong disagreement over Neal Stephenson’s trilogy of enormous novels; slightly grudging enthusiasm (despite the hype) for the new Susanna Clarke book (which appeared in the local B&N couple days ago, but wasn’t for sale in the dealers room); Steve Silver, and Steve Silver’s wife, fielding questions about living with books and compromising on travel plans; rarefied debate among Jeff VanderMeer, Beth Meacham, Paul Di Filippo, Delia Sherman, and others about the derivation of ‘new weird’ and even the advisability of designating a body of works with a new name; Connie Willis’ well-mannered moderation of a panel on the various concepts of time travel and the reason the theme holds the attraction it does. After dinner, meandering around the party hotel, at one point listening to a small group of writers and others in CNB’s suite speculate on which famous SF writers, if trapped with in a lifeboat, they would be willing to eat. Only at an SF convention…

Tonight’s Hugo Awards ceremony was fairly typical, almost avoiding major gaffes — except for a couple prematurely flashed slides displaying names of the winners before they had been announced from the envelopes — and highlighted by the well-behaved, almost serene demeanor of toastmaster Neil Gaiman, and an entertaining mid-program speech by Robert Silverberg describing memorable Hugo Awards ceremonies of the past.

It wasn’t a particularly good con day for me, beginning with a missed breakfast meeting and ending by being barred from the post-Hugo party by a door Nazi after the rest of my group (who didn’t notice) had gone inside (in consolation, I had a drink in the bar downstairs with Ralph and Beth and Malcolm, all of whom had also been barred). In between I attended a couple panels, bought a few books, strolled outside for a couple hours, and like yesterday managed not to eat a complete meal — just a snack in the morning and grazing in the Hugo nominees reception in the evening (I was there as guest of one of Locus‘s co-nominees) — eating behavior much more fannish than at any convention I’ve ever attended.

Busy day today in Boston, beginning with the annual Locus Foundation meeting, required by the details of Locus’ legal status as an entity that would survive any ‘calamitous circumstance’ that might befall Charles N. Brown; board members include CNB, Connie Willis, Neil Gaiman, Jonathan Strahan, and me, to name only those who were in attendance in CNB’s suite this morning. (Others are Gary Wolfe, Peter Straub, Kirsten Gong-Wong, and Jennifer Hall.) As usual, various issues about Locus’ financial straits and potential mechanisms for expanding its ‘brand’, issues that have not really changed over the past 2 or 3 years, were discussed without actually resolving to do anything about them; the business world concept of assigning action items with specific due dates is not one that comes readily to this group.

The Locus Awards were presented officially to the winners and publishers in a ceremony officiated by the hard-working and ever-entertaining Connie Willis, who updated her ‘history of Locus’ routine, with mock-ups of archaeologically unearthed Locus issue cover images, covering everything from recent topic “Editors — Are They Aliens?” to the ancient “Adam and Eve” earliest issue. Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, and Cory Doctorow gave the most elaborate and interesting acceptance speeches; see Cheryl Morgan’s blog for description.

The awards presentation was followed by a champagne reception, again in CNB’s suite, for winners and associated hangers-on, where I chatted with the intimidatingly technologically up-to-date Cory Doctorow (who suffered the misfortune of having his name accidentally mispronounced by Ms Willis during the awards presentation), Connie herself on recent movies and the way they screw up the classical concept of tragedy; and met the Chinese delegation from Science Fiction World, said to be the largest circulation SF magazine in the world.

Later, I taxied out to the New England Aquarium at the Wharf with Marina Fitch to attend the party thrown by Eos, who always manages to host events at interesting off-convention-site locations, where I noshed on cheese and crackers and sushi rolls, chatting with Jeffrey Ford and Karen Haber and David Marusek and many others, while watching squids undulate in their tanks.

Then, back to the Sheraton hotel, the party hotel, for a tour of the evening parties, including Tor’s top-floor suite bash, opening early to the ‘professional’ crowd before the later public crowd, where there were additional cold cuts and raw vegetables to nibble, not to mention sodas and wine, while chatting with Rob and Paul and David and Kevin. Today I achieved what must be a special goal for the fuzzy semi-professional crowd of which I seem to be a part: I nibbled my way through the entire day, from meeting to reception to party after party, without ever paying for a meal (or having anyone explicitly paying for me). That’s how conventions work sometimes. I have to save money to pay for this new laptop somehow…

So here I am in Boston, attending Noreascon 4, this year’s World Science Fiction Convention, my 17th consecutive Worldcon (and 18th overall), sitting high atop the Marriott Copley Place hotel with a view of the Charles River from the 36th floor.

I flew in from LA yesterday — on United Airlines, with no troubles at all — meandered over to the convention center midday today, signed in, wandered around the cavernous facility, where the SF con seems to occupy only the occasional odd corner, long enough to find the dealer’s room, and hung out there most of the afternoon, either sitting at the Locus table with Marina and Pat and Russ, or perusing the room, chatting with Paul and Connie and Eileen and Kelly and Sheila and others.

It’s on the Asimov’s discussion board, but nowhere else more official that I can find, that Gardner Dozois and Susan Casper were in a car crash yesterday; Gardner’s shoulder was broken and he underwent surgery today. They will not be attending the con as scheduled. Get well cards circulated the SFWA suite.

For more details of Noreascon’s goings on, check Cheryl Morgan’s Emerald City blog or Noreascon 4′s own blog; my notes here will not pretend to be any sort of comprehensive coverage.

Last weekend I shopped for and bought a shiny new laptop, partly because my previous mobile machine was 5 years old and thus quite decrepit, but mostly because with a long weekend convention I wanted something with high-speed internet access capability. For the first time, I arrived in my hotel room, plugged the ethernet cable into the outlet on the desk, and could surf the web and download my thousands of spam just as quickly as I could at home. Why, I can even get some real work done on the website from here–see, I just posted a new magazines page. With an end-of-August new books page in the next day or two.