20 Fragments of a Ravenous Youth

A palate-cleanser before the final Clarke Award re-read, this, Xiaolu Guo’s follow-up to last year’s Orange-shortlisted A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers (except that the Chinese edition of 20 Fragments was her first novel; although this English translation has, apparently, been substantially revised). You could, if you wanted, run through a list of similarities between the two. Both are lively and interesting and worth reading. In both the subject matter — in 20 Fragments, a young woman moving from the Chinese countryside to Beijing and trying to bootstrap her way into a career in the film industry — feels more than a little autobiographical. The narrator is, in both cases, a young, determined, spirited woman, although 20 Fragments‘ Fenfang is nowhere near as emotionally naive or culturally adrift as Dictionary‘s Z. Fenfang’s voice recalls what we see of Z’s writing in her native tongue: direct, spare, oddly innocent. (It reminded me of Yiyun Li, though I have no idea whether the similarity is a coincidence or an artifact of translation from Chinese.) And both books are concerned with, among other things, the tension between community/constraint and individuality/loneliness.

But 20 Fragments examines that tension through a portrait of a place, rather than a love story, taking from the get-go an unsentimental, unromanticised look at Beijing. When Fenfang arrives in the city, the first apartment she moves into is one left vacant after she sees its owners mown down by a bus; her second home is next to a huge rubbish tip where children play in the summer. The sheer scale of Beijing is something Guo captures well, as is the daunting challenge that carving out a space and an identity in the face of such hugeness represents. The book’s structure, a series of vignettes, often deliberately banal, strung together very loosely, helps with this, as though the scale of the city overwhelms any hope of coherence — as one review put it, events are dictated “not by logic or structural unity but by a hotline to emotions”. And Fenfang’s reflections on the few occasions she ventures to other parts of China throw the city into perspective. She misses, for example, the “sharp edges” it brings to her life.

20 Fragments is also, as you would hope, a culturally enlightening book, although often as much for its presentation of the ways modern China is assimilating emblems of America — Tennessee Williams, McDonalds, Scorsese — as for its specifically Chinese observations. In some ways the deployment of Western cultural references recalls Victor Pelevin; but the larger point, perhaps, is made by an (American) friend of Fenfang, who says he likes China because China is better at being American than America. There’s a sense in which 20 Fragments is an exploration of what that might mean; you feel at times that Fenfeng’s hunger, and the hunger of others of her generation, is something driven by China’s economic rise and drives that rise in turn. A trip home is rendered unreal by the changes that modernity has brought — a TV that looks wrong in her parents’ house, pollution and litter in the nearby stream. What’s real for Fenfang is Beijing, majestically cruel and intense. She goes to Beijing University cafe, to get a free drink, and watches the college kids, and we watch with her. “You could really feel,” she reports, “that, in the future, these kids were going to be running the world.”

Your Daily Awards Stuff

Liz has posted her annual Clarke Award poll: currently 43% think The Execution Channel should win, but 40% think The H-Bomb Girl will win. The consensus shortlist is The H-Bomb Girl, The Yiddish Policemen’s Union, The Carhullan Army, The Execution Channel, Brasyl and Black Man.

Charles Brown, in the April Locus editorial, also comes out in favour of MacLeod:

[After some discussion of the Hugos] The Clarke Award is another matter. We’ve reproduced the Award Administrator’s statement [in the news section], but I think he’s just whistling in the dark. There have been complaints before about the Clarke Award judges picking obscure or strange literary books, and they’ve gone pretty obscure this time. I’ve read four of the six books and attempted to read, unsuccessfully, the other two. I wouldn’t consider The Raw Shark Texts sf at all. It has some of the furniture, but is mainly a fantasy/satire and, like The Red Men, is literary without being particularly literate. The Carhullan Army (US title Daughters of the North) is both literary and literate as well as very depressing. Joanna Russ did a much better job with the same material nearly 40 years ago. It held my interest, but that’s all.

Of the three books inside the field, Black Man is probably Morgan’s best book, but it still reads like a novelization of a really good action movie. I loved The H-Bomb Girl. IT has excitement, new ideas, and struck the right note with me because of the events. I was in the active reserves during the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, and had already received notice of my call-up when Kruschev backed down. One of the scariest moments of my life, facing WWIII. The book captures that feeling perfectly. One incident from that week stands out (I wasn’t there, but it has passed into legend). Robert Frost was speaking at my college (CCNY in New York City) and several faculty asked him why he seemed so happy with the dire events around him. He said, “I thought I would die alone, but it looks like the whole human race may go with me!” Apocryphal? Probably. Good story? Yes! Anyway, much as I loved the book, it lacks the gravitas and depth for an award-winning novel. That leaves only The Execution Channel, which although set in a subtle alternate world, is very much like The H-Bomb Girl in feel, and even events. It’s easily the best book on the liast and deserves the award.

Elsewhere, James has been comparing the books that get shortlisted for (and win) the BFSA and Clarke Awards. His conclusion:

Only 41 novels have made both shortlists, that’s only 21% of all the books. Quite surprising.

(However, I’m not sure his numbers are quite right, possibly coming from some confusion in the naming of the awards — the 2008 Clarke award is, like the 2007 BSFA award, given for work published in 2007. So there’s no possibility of anything on this year’s Clarke award turning up on next year’s BSFA award shortlist.)

And just to round things off, James Nicoll wonders whether sf awards are an exercise in futility.

Tiptree Award Winner

Locus Online is reporting that

The winner of this year’s James Tiptree, Jr. Award, given to works of SF and fantasy that explore gender roles, is Sarah Hall’s The Carhullan Army, published last year in the UK by Faber and Faber, and just published this year in the US by HarperPerennial as Daughters of the North. Jurors this year were Charlie Anders, Gwenda Bond (chair), Meghan McCarron, Geoff Ryman, and Sheree Renee Thomas. The award, which comes with $1000 prize money, will be celebrated May 25, 2008, at WisCon 32 in Madison, Wisconsin.

To which I at least have no objections. In fact, I think it’s an excellent choice. There’s no sign of the honour list yet, but I’ll be interested to see what else is on there.

EDIT: SF Awards Watch has the honour list:

  • “Dangerous Space”, Kelley Eskridge, (Dangerous Space, Aqueduct Press, 2007)
  • Water Logic, Laurie Marks (Small Beer Press, 2007)
  • Empress of Mijak and The Riven Kingdom, Karen Miller (HarperCollins, Australia, 2007)
  • The Shadow Speaker, Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu (Hyperion, 2007)
  • Interfictions, Delia Sherman and Theodora Goss (eds.) (Interstitial Arts Foundation/Small Beer Press, 2007)
  • Glasshouse, Charles Stross (Ace, 2006)
  • The Margarets, Sheri S. Tepper (Harper Collins 2007)
  • Y: The Last Man, written by Brian K. Vaughan, art by Pia Guerra (available in 60 issues or 10 volumes from DC/Vertigo Comics, 2002-2008)
  • Flora Segunda, Ysabeau Wilce (Harcourt, 2007)

That has a couple of entries I am somewhat more surprised to see, but they’re more than made up for by the presence of Y: The Last Man.

FURTHER EDIT: Full press release.

YET MORE EDIT: And another discussion, this time touching on the book’s timeliness (or lack thereof).

What You Need To Know About The Locus Awards

1. You can vote.

2. The deadline is tomorrow.

3. The ballot is here.

There are other things it might be nice for you to know, such as: the Locus Awards are one of the largest (possibly the largest) sf awards going, judged by the number of people who vote; although you don’t have to be a Locus subscriber to vote, if you are and vote you get an extra issue added to your subscription; or, if you want to vote for something that’s not in the drop-down list (such as, say, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, or Sharp Teeth, or The Carhullan Army) you just write it in the box to the side.

In conclusion: go vote.

The Linkimous Depths

(Four Clarke books down, two to go; and I’m up to p.217 of Quicksilver.)

Three Notices

1. British people! Pushing Daisies starts tonight on ITV1 at 9pm. It is awesome and lovely. You should all watch it. It’s much better than Doctor Who, I promise.

2. There is a suggestion that the sf community is not paying as much attention as it should to Junot Diaz’s Pulitzer win. I am not entirely convinced by this, but just in case anyone hasn’t heard: there’s a book called The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by a writer called Junot Diaz, and it won a Pulitzer. It’s about an sf fan, and packed with sf references (including the title, in a convoluted way), and by all accounts wonderful. I haven’t read it yet (it’s only just been published in the UK), but the epigraphs alone are enough to win me over. One is the second verse of a poem by Derek Walcott; the other is:

“Of what import are brief, nameless lives … to Galactus??”
Fantastic Four, Stan Lee and Jack Kirby (Vol 1 No 49, April 1966)

3. This isn’t exactly an “as others see us” moment, but it does make me want to read the book:

Science fiction makes you think of spaceships, magical technology, visionary futurism. Yet “science fiction” might also be a good name for a kind of fiction that contains no robots or galactic battles but simply engages with science on a deeper and more authoritative level than your average novelist who borrows a vague understanding of quantum mechanics as a little moondust to sprinkle over the story. Andrew Crumey has a PhD in theoretical physics, and his sixth novel answers in a way to both possible descriptions as “science fiction”, concocting something dreamily strange out of what initially seems to be a resolutely naturalistic comedy of nostalgia.

And with that, I leave for a BSFA committee meeting.

Super Mario Bros: The Epic

This is one of those things that I assume everyone has seen, but is worth posting because (a) it’s ace and (b) I only realised this evening that I’d never seen the conclusion. It’s a flash animation of Super Mario Brothers, redone as an epic, with appropriate soundtrack, battles, the works. There are some longueurs in the middle, and it has to be said that some of the dialogue could have done with proofreading, but all in all it is, as I said, ace. At least, it is if you have any joy in your soul and/or nostalgia for Super Mario Bros. Without further ado:

I am particularly impressed to find that, despite the two-year gap between parts four and five, the ending was clearly planned from the start.

Blogging the Classics

So, yesterday afternoon, Nic and I realised this was happening:

Blogging the Classics
John Carey, Lynne Hatwell, John Mullan, Mark Thwaite

Whose judgements are more trustworthy when it comes to books? Do amateur bloggers online do a better job than established literary critics in the press? Hear two highly regarded literary bloggers — Mark Thwaite, founder of ReadySteadyBook.com, and Lynne Hatwell, founder of dovegreyreader.typepad.com — battle it out with to professional critics — Sunday Times chief reviewer John Carey and broadcaster and journalist John Mullan.

And we went along:

And, I have to say, I was pleasantly impressed. It was by far the most interesting and thorough examination of the vexed question of blogging that I’ve seen or heard or read in a mainstream literary venue (as it were); moreover the audience questions were of a much higher standard than I’ve come to expect from literary festivals. The format was semi-formal: Thwaite, Mullan and Hatwell all took a turn to speak, with questions after each, moderated by Carey. From my notes I reconstruct them thus [square brackets are my comments]:

  • Mark Thwaite: set the scene, explained what blogs and RSS are [although as it happens, I suspect most of the audience knew this — certainly there seemed to be a fair few other bloggers there, as I suppose you’d expect]. Highlighted the immense number of blogs out there to make the point that they are not any one thing — ten thousand would not be a good sample. [ObPedant: well, it would depend on your sampling methodology. But point taken.] Argued that even bad blogs — even those that commit the “sins of blogging”, that are reactive, populist, gossipy and so forth — certainly do no harm, and probably do some good in terms of getting people to engage with books; so why do journalists seem to be annoyed by them? Noted that bloggers learn, many improve as they go, dialogue with commenters makes you a better reader and writer [very true], and in general emphasised the importance of community. The literary blogosphere, in its best form, brings passion and rigour together.
  • Questions from Carey: do you get to know your readers? (Yes, to different levels; some are close friends, some he considers co-writers of the blog, almost.) How do you keep the community “pure”? (It’s self-filtering; people not interested in the general tone of the site tend not to hang around.) Do you not feel “lost” among a hundred million-plus blogs? (A villager might feel lost in the city, but that doesn’t make the city a bad thing; and there are guides.)
  • John Mullan: Blogs seem to be about the exchange of opinions; this has value, but academic criticism still has something to add. Unfortunately a lot of academics have “forfeited” their status — if critics are less regarded these days, if we can’t imagine general readers buying books of criticism to reader for pleasure, that’s largely academics’ fault. [I’m not sure about the apparent conflation of “academic” and “criticism” here.] One of the things academics need to do is reclaim value judgement, be bolder about saying which books are worth paying attention to and why. One reason it’s worth reading good critics is that they have knowledge that general readers don’t — otherwise what’s the point of them? Critics should in general tell readers three things [that, eg, reviewers or bloggers generally don’t]: (1) Explain the design/structure of books, how they work (which is why we value books — it’s not about their subject; there are lots of books about the same things as Pride and Prejudice); (2) Take a long view (be widely read and be able to bring that knowledge to bear); (3) Articulate, make clearer the half-understanding the reader has in their head already. Critics are well-placed to be advocates [Yes].
  • Questions: Carey: Can you separate knowledge and opinion that firmly? Good criticism is rare because it’s hard; it’s rare everywhere, in academia as well as in blogs. (Yes, but that shouldn’t stop people striving, and perhaps academics strive more … but they shouldn’t forget the obligations of criticism.) Thwaite: if academics are forgetting that obligation, is it partly due to the influence of Theory? (More down to an emergent property of academia — American University Presses publish reams of books that are not read, and often aren’t intended to be read so much as they’re intended to help people get their next job. But Theory hasn’t helped.) Hatwell: I value criticism; do you value bloggers? Did bloggers catch academia unawares, make them question their value? (Perhaps yes, and that’s not a bad thing; the other factor here is the proliferation of book groups.)
  • Lynne Hatwell: What qualifies her to write about books? She writes in a personal and subjective way, and makes no apology for that; as John Carey once said, “my judgements are camouflaged autobiography”. A life-long reader; in the mid-nineties did a part-time English Literature degree with the Open University, and at the end of it in some ways felt little better off — now felt she had a voice but nowhere to speak. Hence, the blog, a voice she could use. Does not identify as a critic or a reviewer — they’re roles that involve more detachment than she wants to muster (gets enough detachment in her day job as a community nurse). She wants to write less about what happens in a book, and more about how it affected her. (Pomposity on a blog leads to death by a thousand comments.) For similar reasons she doesn’t post negative reviews, she wants to focus on those books for which she is the right reader. But at the same time she needs to be accountable for the opinions expressed — honesty, transparency and humour are key. Blogging has expanded her horizons. Blogs are accused of being unedited — but she spends a lot of time on her posts. There shouldn’t be a battle, blogs may be a different offering but the can be as meaningful as critics. [This was a much more obviously prepared statement than the other two, and much more personal, and went down very well with the audience; I can’t capture the humour in these notes, but she’s posted the full speech here.]
  • Final discussion
    • Mullan: your blogs are very civilized compared to my main experience — on the Guardian blogs, where commenters are often astonishingly abusive. Is this a weakness of the form? Speed and anonymity lead to an aggressive and combative forum.
    • Carey: In a way that should be valued — will give future historians a complete spectrum of opinion! Critics say “we” meaning “me” too often. [Hmm, really? Certainly when I say “we”, which I try not to do too much, it’s because I’m presuming I’m addressing an audience that is on the same page as me.]
    • Thwaite: I don’t think of the Guardian blogs as part of the blogosphere, I think of them as part of the Guardian. They are atypical In general there seems to be a movement away from anonymity — everyone knows my name.
    • Audience: blogging is a medium — being a blogger is a role, not an identity.
    • Mullan: I wonder if the democratisation of opinion that blogs bring plays into marketer’s hands to some extent — it tends to flatten opinion, historically innovation has needed critics to stand up for it.
    • Hatwell: too much literary criticism is out of reach of the normal reader — cost, lack of library access. I’ve tried to integrate some critical writers into my blog, bring their perspective in.
    • Audience: there should still be a place for casual thought, we don’t want everyone to end up as specialists.
    • Thwaite: the next great critic will have a blog.

Apart from anything else, the panel made me want to give up writing for all other venues and just publish reviews here. (I suspect this is a symptom of having published so little here for so long.) I think I will try to slot a few novellas in between Clarke novels, this month. Hopefully including Philip Pullman’s new book, Once Upon a Time in the North, which I impulse-bought on our way out through the festival bookshop.

And you can read Nic’s take on the event here.

And a final photo: