When I became eligible to become a member of SFWA last year I thought about it long and hard and finally decided to join. I forget why, now. The experience hasn’t exactly been a bad one–it’s been oddly non-experiential, as a matter of fact. For instance, you may have noticed that the final ballot for this year’s Nebulas was recently announced, here… and here (and elsewhere). The information content is not identical on these apparently official pages, and they don’t seem to be aware of each other’s existence. There is no link to an actual ballot where one might actually vote (here or apparently in the members-only section of the site), or any information on the deadline for voting. I queried for info at the “query for info” email address; I was told that I’d be told when the final ballots were mailed. Old school mail: carried by weary snails and weighed down with stamps and stuff.
I am a traditionalist, and all that. But maybe not all that. The thing is, I like the snails pretty well, but they don’t seem to be able to find my house reliably. Email is faster, more reliable, cheaper, more check-backable. Why not use it? Are we not Living in the Future? Also, doesn’t SFWA know now when the votes are due? Why can’t they tell us? Why not have, say, one page with all the relevant info or links between all relevant pages? Where shall wisdom be found? Where is the place of understanding?
You practically can’t be an SFWA member unless you’re kvetching about something, so there’s my kvetch of the day.
But to celebrate my first and possibly last Nebula vote, I thought I’d read as much of the nominated work as I can and
inflict it on share it with you readers of the Blog Gate. This week: short stories.
Ruth Nestvold, “Mars: A Traveler’s Guide”
A story almost entirely implied through a series of infodumps: very ingenious. Still, it was pretty easy to see where the story was going from the start, and there were vanishingly scant details to personalize the predicament of the unnamed person in the story. Also, this is only part of a plot: a problem, without any narration of how that problem was confronted (or even by whom). I know there are some people (James Wood is their idol) who think plot is a trivial element in a story, and I know that they are wrong.
James Patrick Kelly, “Don’t Stop”
Thinking about tomorrow. Don’t stop. It’ll soon be here. Lather, rinse, repeat. The 90s will never be over. You will never escape. Never. Someone named Bush or Clinton will always be president. That election you remember? A dream. You will wake up and find Willary George Walkbert Clush V has been acclaimed President-for-Life. Wake up. Wake up!
Thank God that has nothing to do with the story at hand, but I was kind of worried it did, especially when they story starts with the viewpoint character seeing dead people through, oh, I don’t know, a sort of sixth sense. Indeed, there’s not a lot of novelty, here: none of the fantastic content in the story would have been especially fresh after Theodore Sturgeon wrote “Shottle Bop,” but Kelly managed to make it matter (for the main character and for me, too, I guess).
Gwyneth Jones, “The Tomb Wife”
The Lar’sz’… Please don’t look at me like that; I hate extraneous apostrophes as much as the next reader, assuming the next reader has a serious hate on for them. Anyway–it says here, the Lar’sz’ are an ancient, almost extinct people who had an interesting custom: occasionally a widow would move into the tomb of her beloved dead and live out the rest of her life (and sometimes afterlife) there. One of those tombs is being transported to a museum exhibit on another world. Eldritch consequences ensue, naturally.
I thought this story took a bit too long to make its point, but it did end up having one. I didn’t think the alien names in the story were well-coined. (Apart from the extruding apostrophes, the principal alien is named Sigurt; I kept waiting to see if his sweetheart Brynhilt would show up.) But some of the background stuff, not strictly necessary for the story, was kind of interesting: this universe might be worth another visit.
The burial customs reminded me a little of the Greco-Roman practice of leaving gifts of food at tombs, and the story of the Tomb Wife herself seems to echo the ancient Milesian tale of the Widow of Ephesus. (No, I am never off the clock on that classics gig.)
Kij Johnson, “26 Monkeys, Also The Abyss”
Life is absurd, and involves monkeys, or so this story persuasively argues. I liked it.
Jeffrey Ford, “The Dreaming Wind”
Every fall, the Dreaming Wind comes and changes things around town–usually the changes last just for a while; sometimes they’re permanent. It’s a nuisance. Then it stops. That’s worse. An inventive story with some nice writing (“The grass never remained green, the sky never blue but became other colors and sometimes different consistencies like water, or jam or once, a golden gas that coalesced our exhalations into the spectral forms of dead relatives who danced the Combarue in the town square” etc)… and some rather awkward pedantic writing (“What is a dream, but a state founded enough upon the every day to be believable to the sleeping mind and yet also a place wherein anything at all might and often does happen” etc).
Mike Allen, “The Button Bin”
It’s narrated in the present tense, which struck me as a little affected. The viewpoint character in this story has two related problems, and confronts them: there is motion in this story, and that appealed to me; things happen. I hated the viewpoint character so much by the story’s end that I thought of it as a happy ending. There is a good monster in this story, a very good monster.
None of these stories struck me as the best thing I’d ever read and there was an aspiring sameness about them; they all feel sort of workshopped, if you know what I mean. But they all have their merits. If I had to vote today (and for all I know I should) I’d probably punch the old chad for Johnson’s “26 Monkeys.” Then deliver it to the SFWA Mansion by carrier pigeon because we scientifictioneers are very up-to-date in our methods.
[“Trophy Wives” by Nina Kiriki Hoffman is Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Film because there was no e-version available to SFWA members. Is it fair to exclude a story from consideration on this basis? On balance, I think so. If I manage to lay hands on a copy of the story before the voting deadline (whenever that may be) I’ll let you know what I think. Because I can tell you’re waiting for that with bated breath. (Bated breath always sounds like snoring, or so I am willing to believe.)]