Torque Control

Pick of the Peasants

As a result of some sf writer infighting you need to neither know nor care about (though if you have a desperate urge to find out, see here and here), today has been given the extraordinarily irritating title of “International Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day”. The good thing about this is that it means many sf writers (and other sf types) have been posting samples of their work online for free, gratis. There are roundups here and here; my picks:

In keeping with the spirit of the day, I’m going to put up a review I wrote for NYRSF. For bonus marks, see if you can spot my tics.

As Others See Jim Crace

I know, I know: symptomatic of the genre’s neuroses, you’ve seen it all before, and a science fiction novel just won a Pulitzer, for heaven’s sake. But sometimes I can’t help myself. Here’s Joyce Carol Oates on Jim Crace’s The Pesthouse:

Long the province of genre entertainments—science fiction, dystopia fantasy, post-apocalyptic movies—the future has been boldly explored in recent years by such writers as P. D. James (“The Children of Men”), John Updike (“Toward the End of Time”), Margaret Atwood (“The Handmaid’s Tale,” “Oryx and Crake”), Doris Lessing (“Mara and Dann”), and Cormac McCarthy (“The Road”). Now comes a grim prophetic fable by the much admired British writer Jim Crace, who in previous novels—“The Gift of Stones,” set at the dawn of the Bronze Age; “Quarantine,” in the time of Christ—has shown a flair for imaginatively evoking the past. Kingsley Amis once remarked that there isn’t much point to writing if you can’t annoy someone; it might be said that there isn’t much point to writing about the future unless you can frighten someone. Certainly, most fiction about the future—not least the famous dystopian works by Wells, Huxley, and Orwell—is designed to unsettle and provoke. These novels are fundamentally didactic; their authors have crucial lessons to impart. Contemporary “speculative fiction” shares that aim; it extrapolates from current conditions and urges us to confront the consequences.

Bobbins, start to finish. I might just be persuaded to let her get away with “most fiction about the future is designed to […] provoke”, but I point and laugh at “it might be said that there isn’t much point to writing about the future unless you can frighten someone”, and her attempt to potrary McCarthy, James, Atwood et al as a band of brave pilgrims, bringing civilisation to the wilderness.

London Meeting: Jon George

The guest at this Wednesday’s BSFA meeting is Jon George. He will be interviewed by Paul Kincaid.

As ever, the meeting is open to any and all, and will be held in the upstairs room of the Star Tavern in Belgravia (map here). The interview starts at 7.00, but there are likely to be people hanging around in the bar from 5.30 or so. (Although none of them will be me this month because I’m out of town, and indeed out of the country.)

De Lint on Mieville

The April F&SF arrived today, which puts me back on track (or at least, it arrived when I expected it to arrive; I’m now not expecting anything until the June issue towards the end of June, having long since given up on ever seeing the January issue). It’s a Gene Wolfe special, which may prompt one of my periodic attempts to get to grips with said writer, but of course what I flipped to first were the reviews. This issue, Charles de Lint reviews China Mieville’s latest. The review is notable for two reasons: one, it’s almost the only negative review I can remember de Lint giving — to be fair, his column is called “books to look for”, not “books to avoid” — and two, it’s almost the only negative view of Un Lun Dun I’ve seen so far. An excerpt:

What doesn’t work?

Unfortunately, the characters are all flat. This is an “events” novel from start to finish, one event leading breathlessly into the next, and that’s the book’s other problem. It’s much too busy.

Those fabulous ideas I mentioned earlier? Every time we just start to get interested in something — a character, a situation, some new odd and wonderful place — we’re already moving on to the next. And often, that’s the only time we see them.

[…]

I think the real problem with Un Lun Dun can be found in the interview that was in the back of the galley I read. When asked by the interviewer if this is a YA book, Miéville says, “Absolutely,” then goes on to add, “There’s a certain kind of fairy-tale logic you can use in a YA book that you can’t in an adult book, or at least not without tipping into a kind of mannered fabulism that, in adult fiction, I don’t love. I couldn’t use a character with a bottle of ink for a head in an adult book.”

I couldn’t disagree more. YA books aren’t a place where anything can happen. A belief such as that just shows a disrespect to your audience. Teen readers are as smart and savvy as adult readers — some of them more so. And adult novels can have all sorts of whimsical and dark oddities in them.

They aren’t “mannered fabulism” in the right hands. Readers will accept many things when they start a book, but no matter how outlandish the things we meet in its pages might be, the good author roots it all in believable characters. Characters that live and breathe and grow as the story unfolds.

And that’s where Un Lun Dun fails. Miéville’s characters are differentiated only by their physical attributes. They act a certain way, because they look a certain way. I think he was trying for an Alice in Wonderland quirkiness, and that might have worked in a smaller book, or perhaps one with longer scenes. Even Carroll spent more time in his scenes than Miéville does, and while Alice is an innocent to whom things happen, Miéville’s Deeba isn’t. She’s a doer, but we’re always told what she feels and why she does the things she does; we don’t actually get to know her.

His criticisms of the book may or may not be valid (I haven’t read Un Lun Dun, but I recognise the slog of relentless events from at least the first section of Iron Council), but I’m not sure he’s interpreted Mieville correctly; or at least, I’m not sure “fairy-tale logic” is equivalent to “anything can happen”.

Going to Sheffield

As has become traditional, the Science Fiction Foundation and BSFA are organising a one-day event around their AGMs. This year, however, it’s happening outside London. Tony has the initial details:

The date: Saturday 16 June
The location: Sheffield
The venue: The Old Queens Head

The full programme will be announced later, but it’s worth keeping the day free if you think you’ll be able to make it; these things are usually quite fun. (Programmes for the last two events here and here.)

The State of the Blog

“Reviewing is a social occasion, run by people staking out turf; honest intellectual discussion is something else, and nearly extinct.” — George Zebrowski

In another week, I’d write a post about that. In fact, in another week I’d write posts about all sorts of things: about Drive and what I like about it, even though Abigail makes some good points; about Greg L. Johnson’s assertion, as noted by Jonathan Strahan, that “Hard science fiction, and space opera, are styles of SF that tend to work better at lengths longer than short stories”; about Ian R. Macleod’s novella in the May F&SF, “The Master Miller’s Tale”, and about Holly Phillips’ story in the June Asimov’s, “Three Days of Rain”; about Sunshine and why it was a disappointment (although fortunately Adam Roberts has written that one for me, and it’ll appear at Strange Horizons next week); about Alan DeNiro’s three Strange Horizons stories, none of which appear in his Litblog Co-Op-picked collection, Skinny-Dipping in the Lake of the Dead; about reading Anatomy of Criticism by Northrop Frye and London Orbital by Iain Sinclair, except I haven’t got far enough in either; about The Lions of Al-Rassan by Guy Gavriel Kay, which I finished weeks ago and haven’t had the time to organise my thoughts on; and about re-reading, and how we should do more of it, and what I most want to re-read (I’ve been meaning to go back to Kim Stanley Robinson’s Pacific Edge for, literally, years).

But unfortunately, I don’t have the time or energy to do any of the above at the moment. The critical-reading part of my brain is focused on getting through the Clarke shortlist, in advance of the judging meeting on May 2nd; and the rest of my brain is focused on my day job, which is going through a particularly busy period at the moment. (Not that it’s ever quiet, exactly.) So things around here will probably continue to be link-focused for a couple more weeks yet, I’m afraid.

Further Adventures in Clarke Reviews

This time, a review of the whole shortlist by Farah Mendlesohn at Strange Horizons:

The Arthur C. Clarke award comes around but once a year, and as ever the judges have done sterling duty working their way through the best and worst of the British publishing scene. Their trawl is not limited to the SF publishing houses and their definition of SF is wide. Sometimes this is a good thing, sometimes, as this year, it seems to have offered little Added Value. There are three clear genre science fiction novels, all from Gollancz (as Gollancz is the premier UK SF publishing house, this should be understood as a bias in the field, not in the jurors), all of which are excellent in their own way. Then there is a weak piece of nuclear rapture fiction, a pale allegory, and, from one of our best SF small presses and one of our best SF writers, we have a 1970s Playboy cod-psychological battle of the sexes.

The Memory of Linkness

Panel Report: is UK SF publishing overly masculine?

This is, obviously, incomplete, reconstructed from notes I didn’t think I was going to have to rely on. Corrections, attributions, and/or expansions from others who attended the panel are welcomed.

Is UK SF publishing overly masculine?
Sunday 8 April, 11:00–12:00
“I hear that a number of women writers have felt that the atmosphere in the UK is very hard science, hard men at present — not that all the editors are male or whatever, but that the culture seems to be for quite macho-type books.” True?
Jaine Fenn, Jo Fletcher, Gareth Lyn Powell, Graham Sleight, Liz Williams, John Richards (M)

  • Jo Fletcher — more male writers than female writers are published in sf, but more male writers than female writers are published in general. How bad sf is, relatively speaking, depends on how you define “sf” — is it just “science fiction”? Or does it include fantasy as well, in which case women are a lot better represented? When it comes to the Gollancz list specifically, would love to have more women writers, but haven’t seen good enough submissions.
  • Graham Sleight — we can look at this through statistics, which I don’t have, or anecdotally. I feel that male writers get a better deal than female writers. The question of definition is important. Do we tend to frame our definitions in a way that effaces women writers from our thinking or from the lists we produce?
  • Liz Williams — had originally planned to write under her initials, not from fear of prejudice but because she felt “Liz Williams” was quite a dull name; David Pringle and Gardner Dozois persuaded her that visibility of women writers was important.
  • Gareth Lyn Powell — on the question of definitions and perception, how far does sf’s reputation as a literature for boys have an impact? Does it create an unconscious supply and demand?
  • Liz Williams — sometimes women are still made to feel like they’re trespassing; Catherine Asaro gets nasty letters from male readers for daring to pollute science with romance.
  • Jaine Fenn — on definitions again; is it that men and women are equally good at doing different things equally well? Do we need to pay more attention to women writing what they choose to write?
  • Audience — more men may be published, but more women are readers, and women dominate in local writing groups. Is the barrier confidence?
  • Farah Mendlesohn/Zara Baxter — some numbers from Farah’s survey of reading habits; the demographic split in sf readers is about 55-45 in favour of men overall but in the under-30 group the split is 60-40 in favour of women (and the under-30s read more fantasy).
  • Jetse de Vries — looking at email submissions to Interzone, which are primarily from outside the UK, there were 70 women/280 men in the first batch, and 100 women/300 men in the second. Men are more likely to send repeat submissions.
  • Liz Williams — Gordon van Gelder reports similar ratios for F&SF.
  • Zara — Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine has a blind submission process and gets about a 2 men : 1 woman submission ratio.

[Jed Hartman has SH’s stats, which I got slightly wrong, here; the gist is that female authors make up about a third of submissions but two-thirds of the published stories.]

  • Audience — society still has very strong gender roles, which limit women’s writing time; also, there’s a class issue, where better-off people have more time to write.
  • Jo Fletcher — this is to some extent a red herring — writers write despite themselves. If you are a writer, you will find the time.
  • Liz Williams — but often women’s writing is a private thing. Do we need to question the cultural assumption that publication is the goal?
  • Farah Mendlesohn — why are the eight books in the “Future Masters” series all by men?
  • Jo Fletcher — “Future Masters” is a promotion designed for bookshops (specifically Waterstone’s), and designed to get new people to read sf. The selection of books is based entirely on past sales. (The “SF4U” promotion last year was also based on sales, the best-selling Masterworks.) If there had been ten titles, Gwyneth Jones’ White Queen would have been included.

[This is where John Richards attempted to redirect the conversation. See Kev McVeigh’s report on this section of the panel here.]

  • Kev McVeigh — but it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy — next time the ten best-selling titles are selected, these will have a head start.
  • Jo Fletcher — There was debate in Gollancz about the makeup of the list. But sales was felt to be the right criteria for this promotion — different authors need to be promoted to different audiences in different ways. Gollancz is constantly looking for ways to boost its backlist — they’re looking for a hook for a more female-focused promotion for next summer.
  • Liz Williams — being in thrall to sales is probably the biggest limiting factor in publishing. Small press (or “independent press”) can get away with it, but sales are more of a factor than gender when it comes to getting published more than once.

Relatedly, see this, this, this, this, and this post by Ellen Kushner, and the letter from Geoff Ryman that it contains, on the subject of the gender imbalance in this year’s Hugos. Actually, I’m going to quote a chunk of the letter:

SF is driven by an underlying dream, and part of that dream is profoundly hostile to domesticity, which is traditionally assigned to women. It is hostile to staying at home on Earth. It dreams, Peter Pan-like, of magic flights to a Neverneverland in the stars, full of pirates and mermaids and Indians. It is largely a land of and for Boys. Women love it too, perhaps because they also want to escape domesticity.

These days women’s place in fantasy is not as Wendy. Women get to be guys now. They have a place in the SF dream, most usually toting guns or swords. I guess it’s fun for women to shoot people, and men certainly feel more at home with women who act like the rest of their buddies. I would say that the dream is hostile to the traditional place of women’s power: home. Home is what you escape and Mother is who you hate. Can our stories only glance at child rearing, washing the dishes, building everyday relationships, and earning a living and not exclude women, at least to an extent?

There was a time in the 70s when it suddenly seemed that women writers were calling the shots, getting the attention and winning the awards. Le Guin, McIntyre… the list seemed endless at the time. The fiction was a series of telling subversions of that underlying dream. It was a bit like moving overworked muscles in a new direction, a relief.

We seem to have reverted to type. It’s time at least to ask the question: is there something fundamental to the SF tradition that excludes many things women live through and write about? Or which tolerates those writers and their works while delivering an essentially masculine dream? Maybe in ORDER to deliver that masculine dream. Is this dream so deep and enduring that no amount of conscious political correctness can undo it? Is it the case that men find SF easier to write? Or do fine writers like Liz Williams, Gwyneth Jones, Chelsea Quinn Yarbro and Suzy McKee Charnas simply write material that is regarded as fantasy or slipstream and so doesn’t make the cut?

The answers will not fit onto the back of a postcard.

But you should still go there to read the comments; and see also Abigail Nussbaum’s response.