Science/Fiction

So, the other day, I realized that it had been far too long since I'd read any science fiction, and I thought this was extremely strange. I'm a tried and true science fiction fan. I grew up on the stuff, I cut my teeth writing the stuff (which is why you should write with your fingers, and not your teeth) and I deeply enjoy it.

Yet, I looked over my bookshelves, my TV shows, my movies, and I realized that Sci-Fi just wasn't on the list. Unless you count things like old Star Trek re-runs, Babylon 5 reruns, and maybe if you count Heroes. That's about it.

Very strange. I got to wondering why.

So I went back further, digging into the sci-fi books that I'd last bought, and trying to figure out why I'd drifted off-course, as it were. I realized that about around the time I discovered Neil Gaiman, I trifted into that type of fantasy and away from sci-fi.

I did figure out why, eventually, and this is why:

Science Fiction, to me, became like high fantasy (a la' Robert Jordan, Terry Goodkind, et al) which I also completely fail to get. That is to say, somewhere along the road, it became so complicated and so in-depth that I felt like I'd lost the plot and I, without meaning to, wandered off.

(This is probably just me, mind you; if you agree, good, otherwise just assume I'm blithering and move thee on.)

The science fiction books of Greg Bear and Kim Robinson, or the books of M. John Harrison for example completely fail to interest me. They're detailed and heavy and strongly science based. They are deep and involved and increasingly scientific. At least by me, it began to feel like I needed to do extra reading in order to follow the books, or needed to have had some really serious college education toward quantum physics before I could really enjoy the book.

Why is this? Truthfully, I'm not sure. I will still happily read Isaac Asimov, even though he spent a great deal of time talking about all manner of scientific detail. That said, as I think back on all the Asimov I've read in my life, I can recall Hari Seldon, the Mayors of the Foundation, Elijah Bailey, R. Daneel Olivaw, Gladys, and so on. All sorts of characters. I can vaugely recall the science of Hari Seldon and yet, as I tried to finish this sentence, I just realized I don't remember what it's called.

I guess the reason I drifted away from a lot of science fiction is that I'm very much in favor of people stories. All stories are people stories, but sometimes there are swaths of information piled on top, layering what can otherwise be a simple story into a thick and complicated tale. (Which is not necessarily a bad thing. I don't want simple stories, mind you.)

So, of late, I've started writing some science fiction stories, and they have very little actual hard science in them, because I guess that's just me. I've started reading some sci-fi again, and it also doesn't have a lot of hard science. When it comes to books, I think I prefer space opera to hard science.

Realizing that, I realized that when I went to Barnes & Noble and specifically looked for sci-fi there was A) Less sci-fi than fantasy and B) Less people story-science fiction than hard science. More William Gibson than Robert A. Heinlein, to make a comparison.

I'm not saying the system's broken. They sell. People buy 'em, and read 'em. I think it's probably just me having one of those figuring-out-the-world moments.

So, er, to bring this around to a point...those of you out in the world who are writing urban fantasy novels? C'mon. Go write me some space opera. Put some people on some space ships and throw them out at weird angles in the universe, and see what happens.

And then tell me about it. Because I like me some people stories.

We interrupt this blog for an important blog.

The fine folks at Pandemonium Books & Games here in Boston (Cambridge actually, rah Havahd!) are in a bit of a pickle, so it's time for our Geek Powers to activate to do some good. They explain it very well here, but in short they have been a gathering place for writers, gamers, and Geeks of all kinds for the past 17 years, and are now paying the price for their generosity of nature.

The owner, Tyler Stewart, has hosted gaming nights free of charge in his comfortable gaming room downstairs, and held readings from up and coming (and some very well known) sci-fi/fantasy/horror authors for many years. He's also been one of the biggest proponents of independent magazine (BBT Magazine for instance), and book publishers in the area.

All he's asking to stay out of the dumps and keep giving geeks a place to hide from the real world is to sell 1000 t-shirts. We here at BBT are going to donate a design for him, and we have some great designs around the corner.

So why don't you stop by and buy a geeky t-shirt from a fellow who's done so much for like minded people, and if you have a real heart, mention this on your on website or blog.

There's more about Pandemonium here.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

I Understand The Need For Airport Security, But Really! by Earl B Morris

I am writing my blog this time around a little late, because until 4:30 this morning I was held in a correctional facility outside Atlanta, Ga. It’s a long story, and I’m exhausted, but I will briefly go over the situation for those of my fans that are curious, and for my great aunt, who is a regular reader of our columns here at BBT: The Blog.

I was on my way to Williamsburg, Virginia to attend the annual Marscon, a Science Fiction & Fantasy convention that is now in it’s 17th year. I was to be a surprise guest Filker there. Nobody booked me, but my jazz harp teacher suggested I dress up as my favorite hero and surprise the staff with a few songs. At least that’s what I think she said, she has a very thick German accent & a slight harelip so sometimes communication is rather difficult. (We were once almost to the point of fisticuffs when I mistook her kind offer for a scone as an insult to my little Cairn terrier.) For those of you that are out of the loop, and unaware of what filk is – think folk music sung by Ray Bradbury or J.R.R. Tolkien.

I prepared the night before the flight by fasting and meditation, and preparing a wonderful set-list, which began with my rather well known ballad “Do Androids Dream Of Electric Me?” The following morning I donned my costume and lit off for the airport, excited at the prospect of getting my filk on as it were. I was dressed as my favorite Argentine super hero – Supervolador. (I have always preferred to fly in costume as the spandex is wonderfully comfortable, and it’s a great conversation starter.) I arrived at the airport and was a few minutes early for my flight, so I loosened up with a few drinks at the local sports bar. (I’m not a big sports fan, but I met a delightful fellow who said the Dodgers and the Rams may possibly meet one another at Wimbledon this year or something, but only if Tyson or someone gets to play goalie. So if you’re a “Sporty” you may want to keep your eyes peeled for that game.) I heard my flight being announced over the P.A, so I headed at a breakneck pace down the terminal announcing (probably rather rudely) that I had a plane to catch. I made my way to the security checkpoint and was told I would have to remove my mask and take off my shoes. I told the security guard, a rather large angry looking woman, that I would be happy to remove the mask (as long as she didn’t reveal my identity, I joked), but I could not remove my shoes without taking off my pants, as the boots were integrated into the spandex leggings. She demanded I did so, and began waving a metal wand in my “quiet areas”. I asked her to stop, and becoming rather annoyed I said, “Listen mama! Do you think I have a bomb there?” She must have been very offended by my rather (admittedly) sexist referencing of her as “Mama”, because no sooner had the words escaped my mouth, than twelve large fellows escorted me to a distant office. When I noticed they were man-handling my harp, I became rather agitated again, and that did not seem to help matters much.

I have to return to court on the 23 of Feb.

Needless to say, I missed my filking show.