ericmvan

(...which was on TV tonight...) ... When four highly trained scientist/astronauts triggered a mountain to transform into a giant cyclone/sandworm, and then stood in place, making no effort whatsoever to protect themselves, watching this towering, terrifying special effect monster with expressions of mildly surprised interest until it ate them all, apparently as frustrated with their stupidity as I was.

What I think might be the most thorough review of the anthology to date (at least, it certainly rivals this one) just appeared at The Billion Light-Year Bookshelf (click here to see). Reviewer Leigh Kimmel closely examines all 15 stories, and concludes:

"On the whole, I thoroughly enjoyed this installment of the Clockwork Phoenix anthology series. Although a few of the stories may not have been completely to my tastes, I also know that people's tastes differ, and the very fact that a story is not to my tastes may well be proof positive that someone with different tastes will enjoy it from beginning to end. Now we begin to look forward to next year's installment of this anthology."

2009 is winding down fast. Winding down, wrapping up, whichever. And a strange year it has been. Every year, the years grow shorter— at least when viewed from my subjective personal perspective —shorter and more bizarre. Every year, I feel a greater degree of cognitive disconnect between NOW and THEN, and find it increasingly difficult to reconcile the past with the present; the future, somehow, seems more solid than the present.

No writing yesterday. I did send "The Jetsam of Disremembered Mechanics" to subpress, but it would be a lie to say that was work. Yesterday earns an L, as it was a lost day. However, were I to try to explain why, I'd only get myself into a mood that would make working today extremely unlikely. So, let's just say nothing was written.

The most peculiar thing about "The Jetsam of Disremembered Mechanics" is that it contains no contractions. Not a single one. It was a conscious nod to the style employed by Silverberg when he wrote Nightwings. And it yielded an oddly formal, and oddly innocent, voice. Nothing I would likely ever do again, but it worked for this story.

Yesterday, I had a long hot bath. I napped. Day before yesterday, I finished reading the paper on Tethyshadros and began reading "A new basal sauropodomorph dinosaur from the upper Elliot Formation [Lower Jurassic] of South Africa."

There's a photo behind the cut that I took on Monday, of a rather daunting ice/snow formation hanging from the roof of the house next door:

( An Accident Waiting )

1. Four chapters into The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Män som hatar kvinnor, Men Who Hate Women), I am intrigued most by the allusions that suggest the novel is a crossover fic between two Astrid Lindgren characters, grown up and gritty in 2005. I call jackpot if Ronja Rövardotter turns up.

2. TCM is currently showing a double feature of musicals and the movies that inspired them—first My Fair Lady (1964) and Pygmalion (1938), then Silk Stockings (1957) and Ninotchka (1939). I don't, unfortunately, have the time to watch either. 'Twas a few nights before Christmas and all through the house is a mess and why are there more things to wrap and did we mail all the fruitcake? Oh, God, why not? Et cetera. I am sorry to miss the latter pair, since I haven't seen either Cyd Charisse or Greta Garbo playing Russian since high school. But I am at least going to take the former as an excuse for that post about My Fair Lady and Pygmalion I've been meaning to write since last May; and anyone who's seen both films recently is free to tell me I'm wrong.

( How are all your people down at Selsey? )

3. If CBS Films is going to remake My Fair Lady, as I have been hearing for some months now, could someone please persuade them to cast Hugh Laurie as Henry Higgins? Please?

A few minutes ago, Spooky said, "I think if the Crawling Chaos offered me an apple, I'd have to run the other way." Which makes quite a bit more sense if you've seen my "Miskatonic Valley Yuletide Faire" T-shirt (thank you, Black Phoenix Alchemy Labs), and I know you probably haven't.

Merry Cephalopodmas, one and all.

Yesterday, I read "The Jetsam of Disremembered Mechanics" to Spooky, and then tended to an awful lot of line edits. I think it's as good a story as it's ever going to be, so today I'll be sending it to subpress. By the way, this story will appear in an anthology of short stories inspired by the works of Robert Silverberg, edited by Gardner Doizois and Bill Schafer. Not sure of the publication date, but I'll post it when I know. My piece is a sort of "prequel" to Silveberg's Nightwings (1968, 1969). Also, yesterday I received the finished cover art for The Ammonite Violin & Others from Richard Kirk, and I'll post it here sometime in the next few days. It is truly, truly gorgeous. This is going to be a marvelous volume.

When work was done yesterday, Spooky and I bundled up and ventured out into the snowy world. Mountains of snow everywhere. We made it as far as the house at 599/597 Angell Street that was Deacon and Emmie's house in Daughter of Hounds. I'd not visited it since we moved here last summer, and, indeed, not since June 28th, 2004, when Spooky and I first happened upon it while I was researching the novel. It sits directly across the street from 598 Angell Street, where Lovecraft lived from 1904-1924. And after I took a few photos (below, behind the cut), we stopped by the market, then headed back home as the sun was setting.

Last night, we snacked on strawberry hamantashen and fresh Mandarin oranges and a huge tin of chocolate cookies, and watched a couple more episodes of Fringe. I rather enjoyed "August," no matter how blatantly the "observers" are ripped off from Dark City. And after that, there was WoW. We're fifty quests into the Borean Tundra (out of one hundred and fifty), and I really, really hate the region. After questing at Vengeance Landing and Dragonblight, it's just too disjointed and garish and noisy and hokey, too much like Outland, and I just want to be finished with it and get back to Dragonblight, which actually feels like a place. We both made Level 73. Shaharrazad has let her hair grow longer, what with the cold and all.

Sadly, there was very little in the way of Soltice ritual. I'm afraid that the whole "solitary practioner" thing just isn't working for me (I've been at it for five years now), and in the coming year I am going to make an earnest effort to either find or found a coven. I may even resort to WitchVox. There has to be at least one good GLBT-friendly coven in the area, one that isn't all fluffy bunnies and white-light nonsense.

Anyway, here are the photos from yesterday:

( 21 December 2009 )

Vera Nazarian (norilana) sent the finalized PDF of Sky Whales and Other Wonders to us contributors this morn, along with permission for us to distribute copies to interested bloggers for reviewin'. (It's already gotten positive write-ups in Publishers Weekly and Locus.)

In case you need any convincing that the book might be of interest:


Table of Contents

"The Sky Won't Listen" by Tanith Lee

"The Tin and the Damask Rose" by Anna Tambour

"What a Queen Does with her Hands" by Erzebet YellowBoy (erzebet)

"The Gifting of Nyla's Son" by Linda J. Dunn

"Stone Song" by Sonya Taaffe (sovay)

"Sky Whales" by Lisa Silverthorne

"Death's Appointment Book, or the Dance of Death" by JoSelle Vanderhooft (upstart_crow)

"The Sugar" by Mary A. Turzillo (maryturzillo)

"She Who Runs" by Mike Allen

"Breaking Laws" by John Grant (realthog)

"Only One Story But He Told It Well" by Robert Brandt

Looking remarkably confident.  She must be stargazing.  Have I made her young enough? Nine

My mother, wrapping presents: "Maybe I'll just be Groucho Marx."

Happy solstice, all.

I tried to do Margaret holding her lens, but she turned out more like 30 than 13, and rather plainer than I'd hoped; much as Grevil comes up way younger than 40.  My scholarly look, I suppose. Maybe part of what's wrong is that she has such a public, enigmatic face for such a private moment.  What the Victorians called an "old-fashioned look."  I want some flicker of passion or mischief, something unguarded.  What works with Will--and with Grevil--despite the faulty drawing, is the absence of a mask.

Nine

Wishing you joy at the light returning.

If it's slipping away into shadow for you, O my southern friends, think cooler.

Nine

And, already, it is Solstice, and finally the days will begin to grow longer again.

Yesterday, I did not go out and marvel at the snow. I sat here and wrote, 1,609 words, and early in the evening I managed to finish "The Jetsam of Disremembered Mechanics." It may be a good story. I honestly could not tell you. It needs a bit of polishing, and then I'll send it off to the anthology's editor (I'll announce the book a bit later). And then I've got to get to work on Sirenia Digest #49. Though, truthfully, the last thing I want to be doing is writing.

I didn't leave the House yesterday, so I've not been out in the snow. I don't think it's going anywhere, not any time soon. The temperatures here in Providence will be below freezing until the weekend, I think. Spooky went out briefly yesterday, just a short walk, and took some photos (behind the cut, below).

Last night, we watched David Fincher's The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008), which I somehow missed last year. I am pleased to see that it won three Oscars, as I enjoyed it a great deal. Fincher remains one of my favorite directors.

And I don't really think there's much else to say about yesterday. It was mostly writing and a movie and looking at the snow through windows:

( 20 December 2009 )

Will and Thea:
Nine

I need a scanner! Nine