Time Travel Theory

This isn't a Doctor Who post, actually. I read an article on Tor.com about time travel as it is portrayed in movies, and what kinds of various consequences it is shown to cause. They really should have mentioned the Doctor, since they included Bill and Ted, and we all know where they got the phone box idea from - right?

So, time travel. With or without consequences. Or self-consistency, which is another way to say that everything will turn out the same no matter what you do, because history dictates it. (Fixed points in time, anyone?)

Have a read at http://www.tor.com/blogs/2013/11/story-worlds-time-travel-part-1.

Ender's Shadow by Orson Scott Card

[Let me give a brief preface in case such is required. I know there are those among my friends who strongly dislike this author because of his opinions on matters unrelated to literature. For an answer to that, please read John Scalzi's post (language warning), because he states the facts very clearly - essentially, somebody's views do not preclude them from writing well, and it is possible to divorce the art from the artist.]

I read Ender's Game last year and very much enjoyed the buildup of tensions and the bombshell ending. So I am excited about the movie and want to see it sometime soon. Discovering the existence of Ender's Shadow, a parallel novel, I wanted to read it to get me in the mood. Besides, I love parallelity.

It's the same story, but from another viewpoint: that of Bean, a very small child who is very, very clever. Impossibly so - seeing right through most situations and strategies immediately. So clever that he figures most things out in advance with hardly an effort. Yet his size is a disadvantage when his brains bring him superiority over boys much bigger than him. The smart ones learn to respect his skills.

Remember that bombshell ending in Ender's Game? It's no surprise to Bean. He knew what was happening all along.

Anyway, the movie effects look great - time to check it out soon, I think.

Dragonsdawn by Anne McCaffrey

Right, so I liked what I saw when I dipped into the world of Pern a couple of times previously. So I wanted to go to the beginning of the story and find out how it all began. Now I realise this is not the book she wrote first, it came much later, and some readers caution against beginning here. Ah well. It certainly makes a great introduction.

It begins aboard a spaceship in its final weeks of travel to a new home. There are plenty of personal threads and wider political issues as the cram-packed ship prepares to land. Chronicles follow of the first years of settling in, of new discoveries and homemaking on a brand new planet.

Then comes a threat from space: a deadly dangerous bacterial life form that destroys everything organic it falls on. Witness the battle as the people fight for their settlements and find ways to stay safe – including the daring genetic engineering of a local lizard into what we know as dragons.

Many of the cultural practices seen in later books are shown here at their birth. Names of first colonists become names of settlements. I loved following the journey of Irish Sean and Sorka in particular, from their childhood to becoming the first Dragonriders.

Great read. I’ll be returning to Pern again soon.

Aliens, the Universe, and Us

i09 has this great article about different perceptions an alien race might have, just touching the surface in terms of sight, hearing and smell. It's fascinating to think of the things that might be different, and what kind of stories this might cause. Indeed, I have seen some trace of this in Larry Niven's "Outsiders" race, who do not exist at the same speed as humans, and also in China Mieville's Hosts, who are unaware of language as used by humans.

Home Again - Library Swag

The weary traveller returns home. I am particularly glad to do so this time - it's been a rough week. Suffice it to say that a bout of food poisoning along with sunburn and a couple dozen mozzie bites are still making themselves felt. Of course I will post soon about Rarotonga, too. Very interesting place.

Yesterday I got out to the library and picked up the above collection. I had intended to look for stuff from the Top 100 list, but nothing was to be had in my local branch. I placed a number of requests so they will be brought in from elsewhere in the city by next month or thereabouts. In the meantime, I did find these items by the same authors. I do like Larry Niven, have read a few by Heinlein before and a bit of Stephen King, but Anne McCaffrey and China Mieville are new to me. No, the Doctor Who book isn't a classic, I just happened upon it by accident and, well, you know...

A bit sad that they had nothing by Clarke or Bradbury at all. Well, with 55 libraries connected to the city's circulatory system, I suppose the chances are pretty high that the handful of copies will be elsewhere at any given moment. These here will do me until the requests start coming in, anyway. I'll be posting wee comments here as I get through them - I've started with Embassytown.

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE IN SPACE: Take Your Pick

Friends, it has long been in my mind to write a book around the concept "Pride and Prejudice in Space". As I embark upon the journey it has come to my attention that there are varying ways to tackle such an endeavour. Therefore, I have completed the first chapter in two different manners, and present them here for your perusal. Please help me make the decision as to which I should pursue farther...I await your comments!

     (A) MORE OR LESS CLASSIC

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good spaceship, must be in want of a first mate.

However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering the planetary atmosphere, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.

"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that the luxury bunker over in Mining Sector 8E is let at last?"

Mr. Bennet replied that he had not.

"But it is," returned she; "for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it."

Mr. Bennet made no answer.

"Do you not want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently.

"You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it."

This was invitation enough.

"Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that the bunker is taken by a young man of large fortune from Avenir station; that he came down from space last fiveday summer in a private shuttle to see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before the Festival of Founding, and some of his cyborgs are to be in the house by the end of next week."

"What is his name?"

"Bingley."

"Is he married or single?"

"Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year from nanofactory ownership. What a fine thing for our girls!"

"How so? How can it affect them?"

"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."

"Is that his design in settling here?"

"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes."

"I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley may like you the best of the party."

"My dear, you flatter me. I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be anything extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown-up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty."

"In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of."

"But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into the neighbourhood."

"It is more than I engage for, I assure you."

"But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them. Foreman William Lucas and his wife are determined to go, merely on that account, for in general, you know, they visit no newcomers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him if you do not. You are far more gifted in making our beetle pull the carriage."

"You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying whichever he chooses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy."

"I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good-humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference."

"They have none of them much to recommend them," replied he; "they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters."

"Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves. I think I may be getting ash lung."

"You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty years at least."

"Ah, you do not know what I suffer."

"But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young men of four thousand a year come into the neighbourhood."

"It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not visit them."

"Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them all."

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of nineteen Foundings had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous or dying of ash lung. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.

(B) A LITTLE BIT WILDER

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a lady in possession of a good spaceship, who comes down from heaven to hunt beetles, must become a magnet to the males for miles around—sight unseen, of course. 

Not that Karlita Tower was ugly. It was more the case that people, upon seeing her, would say things like “Oh,” and think things like is this really the Avenir heiress being chased by half the colony? But then, money always talked louder than looks, especially in the arid wastes of Eclectia.

Karlita’s own feelings and views were little known upon her arrival in Mining Sector 8, yet her practical desirability was already so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding inhabitants that she was considered the rightful property or indeed a sugar mama of one or more of their sons.

The Benedict family was no exception. “Knute!” said Adlade on coming home that day, leaning her spear in the corner and tossing a bag of larvae onto the table. “Knute, do you remember that fancy bunker the aristos fitted out five Foundings ago?”

Knute emerged from the kitchen, wisps of grey hair floating up from his pate. “Shut that door, will you? Don’t want any more ash in here than we already have…That luxury place over in 8E? Yeah, I remember.”

“It’s lived in finally. For a while at least. And you won’t believe who it is.” Adlade slammed the door against the gritty wind, still twitching and bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Knute sighed. “I see you want to tell me, so go ahead and spill it.”

“Karlita Tower! The aristo said to be inheriting half of Avenir.”

“Bah. A mass of metal out in space—who wants to inherit that?”

Adlade frowned at her husband. “Only a madman would say Avenir isn’t important.”

“Then, my dear, you must have married a madman.” 

Her stomach rumbled and she reached for the bag again, but Knute stopped her. “Nuh-uh. Let me cook them first.” He looked inside and withdrew a fist-sized wriggler. “Good haul today. These’ll go great with beetle meat—if the boys managed to trade for some.”

She followed him through the mud-brick doorway and watched as he plopped the larvae into a pot, then dipped herself a little of the brackish water from the barrel. “They’ll be home soon. I can’t wait to tell them.”

“Why would they possibly be interested?” 

Adlade tipped her head back and groaned at the ceiling. “You are the most impossible man on this planet. Can you honestly not see the potential of a rich girl living in our vicinity?”

Knute nodded at the pot. “Will she buy your creepies for eatin’? Or the rocks we mine? Maybe that’s it. Rich folks like diamonds, right?”

“Impossible, I tell you!” She emptied the cup and slammed it down. “Don’t you realise—she’s single!”

“Ahhh!” Knute’s eyes widened in mock disbelief. “You want her to develop an attachment to a local boy?”

“She can have all of ours if she wants. Whale knows we need them taken off our hands.” Adlade waved her hands at Knute’s downcast look. “Oh, don’t be such a sod. Sure, you could have handled your finances better, but the past’s the past and we have to provide for them some other way.”

“I suppose she’ll be throwing parties and suchlike.”

“Knute, you couldn’t show less enthusiasm if you tried. We have to at least meet her and get her introduced to our three.”

“Don’t wanna,” he growled.

“Then some other young men will sweep her off her feet. It’s all about being proactive, dear.”

“Let the boys be proactive on their own behalf, then. I weary of these politics.”

“You signed up for a lifetime of politics when you sold your land to your cousin.”

The water came to a boil and Knute stirred the larvae with a stick. “The woman speaks truth. I have nothing left for my own progeny.”

He fell silent and Adlade began to feel badly for pestering him so. She retreated to the tattered cassock in the front room, where she listened for the sounds of her sons’ return from the mines. But all she heard was the rumbling of her stomach and the howling of the gale.

Adlade awoke to the smell of food and the clumping of boots. She opened her eyes and smiled at her sons, who carried several interesting-looking packages. “Did you get any meat?”

“A little,” said Reilly, the middle one. He hefted one of his sacks. 

Zane looked apologetic. “I still have today’s diamonds. I should be able to trade them tomorrow.”

Adlade turned to the youngest, but Lantan only frowned. “I told you I’m no good at mining. Send me to Adagio, or better yet, Zirconia or Avenir, and I’ll make myself useful. But not here.”

“Did you even try?” Knute ran a finger over the shiny clean tools clipped to Lantan’s pack.

“Stood around watching, more like.” Zane glared at him.

“His first time, give him a break.” Reilly handed the meat sack to his father, who went to add its contents to the meal. 

Bad Blogging and Good Work

Yep, there it is. I'm a bad blogger. So often I don't bother writing anything down, even though I know fine well it would make a good blog. There are reasons for this, sure - one being that I believe I only have a certain amount of inspiration for a given day and if I use it on a blog, I can't use it on fiction. This has proven true on occasion, but I surely don't write fiction every day so there are some left over for blogging.

Anyway, there is plenty going on in this little ol' corner of the world. Our new flatmate has been here just over a week and is settling in well - we're glad to have him. The cat is back to her old self after a nasty tooth extraction. I have a lot of work on this week, of the paying kind - which is nice, even if it's rather too much for my liking. It's likely to be 20 hours of work in the one week which is quite unusual for me.

Worked a bit on a short story yesterday. It is progressing, if slowly. I suspect the slowness is because it is one of my first attempts at actual fantasy (as opposed to sci-fi) - though I do have a sci-fi twist in it for sure. It's just not my first choice of genre and it's proving difficult to get into the groove.

In other writing, I suppose I should be thinking about the next episode of Comet Born, as Walt reminded me yesterday. The last one isn't published yet, but I guess that shouldn't stop me. The project continues to be an adventure in non-planning, which is a little scary for my Snowflaking self. Okay, a lot scary. But so far, very fun, and you can read all the published episodes from the Comet Born index.

Summer is coming on quite nicely indeed. If it's this hot in November, what'll it be like in February? Yesterday our church held a fun run at Takapuna beach to fundraise for the youth group. Two of the guys ran the full 10 kilometres dressed in Santa suits and beards. I got some great video of that event, so look out for that when I've put it all together.

My friend C.S. Lakin has posted a wonderful blog about writer's wordcount and why it doesn't matter. It is a refreshing view in a time when many authors are just all about the numbers. Doing a small amount of good work is just as valuable. Go read that post.

So there we go. Not such a bad show after all. I have now put the "write new blog post" page link into my Morning Coffee so perhaps I won't forget for quite so long the next time around.  :)

Sci-Fi Still Too Unpopular with Christians

A quick comment on a very prevalent prejudice among Christians...

The other day I came across a new Christian publisher (who shall remain unnamed) and read through their submission guidelines. Down the bottom was a list of genres they don't accept. There along with erotica and porn and violence they listed sci-fi!

I promptly wrote to them and asked why as nicely as I could, and stated that I was very saddened to see it in a list with porn etc. I also said I don't need them to bend the rules for me, but I do wonder why they exclude a genre with so much potential for touching people's hearts.

A very nice lady wrote back to me immediately and explained the quandary they find themselves in when deciding what is acceptable - the traditional Lost Genre/bridging-the-gap problem we're all too familiar with. After all, the LGG was founded as a support network precisely because most Christians find our genres unacceptable, and most mainstream genre writers/publishers/readers are not interested in God. This same problem pops up all over the place.

Anyway, because of what I said, they had a rethink and took sci-fi out of the no-no list. They still don't want aliens, but futuristic is okay. So those with alien stories will still have to go to Wayfarers' Journal or Raygun Revival.

Slowly, surely, the lost genre moves forward... :) It may seem like a small step, but I was encouraged at how easy it was to point out the prejudice to the publisher, and that they so graciously re-worded their guidelines, at least a little bit...

Review: Light at the Edge of Darkness

“An Anthology of Biblical Speculative Fiction” – a mouthful, yes, but it’s worth finding out what it means. How? By reading it, of course!

Biblical speculative fiction is the hobbyhorse of the Lost Genre Guild – bridging the gap between traditional secular fantasy and our Christian faith as a living, breathing reality. Many have said it couldn’t be done. This book is proof that it’s possible. All it needs is a little tolerance on both sides. Some Christians may need to adjust their ideas of what is acceptable, and mainstream fantasy fans may need to get used to a bit of spirituality. Let me tell you, it’s worth it. When I met this group of authors, I knew they were set to make history... and now they've done it.

The speculative tales in this volume cover a great many sub-genres, such as science fiction, supernatural, fantasy, time travel, cyberpunk, futurism and horror. Now you don’t need to have a soft spot for all of these genres to get a lot out of this book. Take me, for example – I can’t stand horror. Guess I’ve got a delicate constitution in that respect. Easily solved: skip the four stories labelled as horror – it's all defined in the contents list. By the way, you might want to make sure those are kept out of the reach of children, too. If you like a good scare, go for it! For me the enjoyment begins with the other twenty-three tales...

Here begins a journey through fantastic realms near and far, and the occasional true story. Spiritual planes interact with everyday life. Biblical prophecies are fulfilled in rather surprising ways. Futuristic scenarios challenge the faith of those living there, and perhaps your own, too. Don’t be shocked if the undead show up now and again, or if insects turn out to be spiritual, too. Oppressive governments can’t stifle the light within. Saving the children becomes a matter of life and death. And some farcical tales use fantasy elements to make fun of a great many things.

It’s so hard to pick out the best among so many magnificent tales, but I have to say my two favourite stories are “Allison” by Deborah Cullins-Smith, all about a little girl who lives in Heaven – it might just bring tears to your eyes – and “Your Average Ordinary Alien” by Adam Graham, where an abduction scenario isn’t quite like one sci-fi fan imagined it would be.

In short, this collection is a tour of many surprising aspects of the Lost Genre. I enjoyed having my horizons widened once more – laughter and tears and unexpected twists, beauty and hardship, farce and danger, evil and bravery, trials, faith, and the ultimate supremacy of God.

Want more information? Try CFRB and Karina for a great start!
You can place an advance order here.
And if you haven't visited the Lost Genre Guild, you really must...