Asimov's SF June 2009 Read online

  In the course of the party, we learn, “I mistakenly smashed a small ghost to death” while dancing too fiercely. He is put on trial, but acquitted with the help of a kindly ghost-lawyer. After three months of married life he is overcome by yearning to return to his native village in the real world, and sets out on his own, quickly getting himself transformed into a long-necked monster and sequestered in a room guarded by a thousand snakes, and he sees “that the biggest and longest among these snakes which was acting as a director for the rest vomited a kind of coloured lights from his mouth on to the floor of the room.” The snakes disappear and he is imprisoned now in a giant pitcher. He is stolen, pitcher and all, by a different tribe of ghosts who worship him as a god and bring him a sacrificial offering of meat, which he proceeds to eat, surprising them greatly, for none of their other gods were able to eat or breathe.

  His life as a god is an enjoyable one, though the sacrificial blood they pour over him attracts too many flies for his comfort. The high priest gives him “a kind of smoking pipe which was about six feet long.... This smoking pipe could contain half a ton of tobacco at a time. When [the priest] lit the pipe with fire then the whole of the ghosts and ghostesses were dancing round me set by set. They were singing, clapping hands, ringing bells, and their ancestral drummers were beating the drums in such a way that all the dancers were jumping up with gladness.”

  And so it goes. He is buried alive by the spider-ghosts and dug up by a cannibal-ghost; then he is found by a tribe of short ghosts who bring him to their queen, the “flash-eyed mother,” who has “millions of heads which were just like a baby's head,” each head having “two very short hands which were used to hold their food.” After some years with these ghosts he becomes embroiled in a war involving many kinds of ghosts, during which he is beheaded, and when he and other dead warriors are revived he finds that he has mistakenly been given a ghost's head instead of his own. “But as every ghost is talkative, so this head was always making various noises both day and night and also smelling badly....”

  And so it goes, one free-association nightmare after another. The reader learns of his second marriage and the birth of his half-ghost son, and of the town where mosquitoes are worshipped as gods, and of how he brings Christianity to the ghosts and founds The Meth-odist Church of the Bush of Ghosts, and becomes a policeman and then a judge in a town of dead people, and takes part in a contest of magicians in classic folk-myth style, and so on and so on, until the book comes to its very well handled conclusion. It's wonderful stuff. By diving down into the mysterious underworld of his people's mythology, Amos Tutuola was able, in 174 pages, to take his readers on a magical journey through a fantasy-world that seemed to me ever so much more real and powerful than what one would encounter in most of the standard prefabricated fantasy novels that crowd our bookstores today. It's not going to be to everyone's taste; but those readers who are looking for something unusual in the way of fantasy will get much delight from it.

  Copyright © 2009 Robert Silverberg

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  Department: ON THE NET: MIND THE GAP

  by James Patrick Kelly

  cut by the edge

  ecently I've been musing about generations of science fiction writers. Back in 1986, my pal Michael Swanwick [michaelswanwick.com] published a remarkable if controversial essay in these pages entitled “A User's Guide to the Post Moderns,” in which he introduced some of the writers of my generation to the readers of Asimov's. Alas, Michael's survey does not live anywhere on the web, although it has been reprinted several times. He centered his narrative on the alleged literary wars between the cyberpunks and the humanists, which was actually more like contretemps than combat, but let that go. Because this was Swanwick at his most provocative, there were many quotable passages, but one that has stuck with me through the years assessed the influence of the generation of writers that came immediately before mine on the then-current scene. This would include such worthies as Joe Haldeman [home.earth link.net/~haldeman/], George R.R. Martin [georgerrmartin.com], Gardner Dozois [en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ GardnerDozois] (who before his stint as editor of this esteemed publication was widely recognized as one of our best short story writers), Gregory Benford [gregorybenford.com], and Vonda Mcintyre [vondanmcintyre.com], among others. Michael wrote, “These writers are all still producing, and in many cases turning out their best work to date, but the cutting edge of change has moved beyond them. In biological terms, they have donated their genetic material and are now superfluous to our argument.”

  I remember feeling a chill as I read this, since if the cutting edge could pass these talented writers by, many of whom were my literary heroes, might it not someday make my generation genetically superfluous as well?

  * * * *

  gapped

  This summer the Hugo Award winning writer and keen genre observer Elizabeth Bear [elizabethbear.com] blogged about signs of a generation gap. She asserts [matociquala.livejournal.com/1415042.html] that short story writers of one generation don't read writers of other generations.

  I wonder when the last time was that Bob Silverberg [majipoor. com] read a story by Benjamin Rosenbaum [benjaminrosenbaum.com], David Moles [chrononaut.org], or Yoon Ha Lee [pegasus.cityofveils.com]? See, I'm thinking I'm on to something here. There's a generation gap in SFF; we're having different conversations, the Greatest Generation, the Baby Boomers, and Generation X. And as the Millennials (really, guys, this Gen Y thing has to stop: grant the kids their own identity) enter the genre, they too will be having their own argument.

  Now there are all kinds of cavils one could make here, starting with the fact that not only has Bob Silverberg read Ben Rosenbaum and Yoon Ha Lee, but he has bought stories from them for Science Fiction: The Best of 2002, which he edited with Karen Haber. And Elizabeth herself is at pains to say, “I read because I know I need to keep an eye on the genre, I need to know what's going on, I have stuff to keep up on.” Nevertheless, she reports that when she asked around about who had read what stories from the various best of the year anthologies, her admittedly unscientific survey confirmed her suspicions. My own experience is similar: my fellow post-moderns—or Baby Boomers—can be as insular as any other generation. Sure, there are individuals who read widely, but in general, I, too, think Ms. Bear is on to something here.

  When John Klima [www.tor.com/index.php?option=comcontent&view=blog&id=2815] mentioned the Unread Generations Syndrome post in several posts on the new Tor [tor.com] website, it sparked interesting conversations. Many complained with justification that it is impossible to track all of the stories published each year. Consider that Mark R. Kelly [locusmag.blogspot.com], writing in Locus's [locusmag.com] 2007 year end summary, reports that there were 2109 original stories published in magazines, books, and online— not counting those in semi-pro or amateur ‘zines. Readers tend to stick with what they know and, when writers read, it makes sense that they would follow the careers of those with whom they share literary sensibilities. Often as not, these common sensibilities map onto generations, although I wonder whether hard science fiction writers of a certain age take all that much interest in sword and sorcery writers of the same age. Soon posters on the Tor site began to exchange suggested reading lists for those seeking to broaden their horizons, most of which are well worth a peek.

  Tor Senior Editor—and Hugo winner—Patrick Nielsen Hayden weighed in with a post entitled “The Dying Earth” [tor.com/index.php?option=com content&view=blog&id=3316], in which he wondered why younger writers have been all but shut out of the Hugos and Nebulas. He pointed to the website of astute Irish critic Nicholas Whyte [nicholaswhyte.info/sitemap.htm], which lists all the winners of these awards [nicholaswhyte.info/sf/nh2.htm], along with their date of birth. Only two born in the 1970s have won Hugos: the aforementioned Elizabeth Bear and Tim Pratt [timpratt.org]. Patrick wrote, “When I was a young SF reader, Hugos were regularly won by people in their twenties and early thirties.” For
example, if you visit Nicholas's site, you'll be reminded that Joe Haldeman was thirty-three when he won his first Hugo, George R.R. Martin was twenty-seven, Samuel R. Delany [www2.pcc.com/staff/jay/delany] was twenty-eight, Roger Zelazny [roger-zelazny.com] was twenty-nine and our own Robert Silverberg was thirty-four. Patrick writes, “I argued a bit with Elizabeth Bear's assertion of a generation gap in modern SF, but I'm beginning to think she may have a point. There's plenty of SF and fantasy being written by younger people, but evidently the people who vote on the Hugos and Nebulas aren't among its readers.”

  In the comments section, Elizabeth Bear offers a new data point on the generation gap: “I've been observing for a while that there's a Wiscon crowd and a Worldcon crowd, and they don't overlap all that much.” The WorldCon, of course, is the World Science Fiction Convention. This year's edition is Anticipation [anticipationsf.ca] in Montreal. Wiscon [wiscon.info], for those who are wondering, bills itself as “The World's Leading Feminist Science Fiction Convention.” It is at once much smaller than WorldCon and vastly more hip. If you want your say in conversations that are shaping the genre, book a ticket to Madison, Wisconsin next Memorial Day. Here's Elizabeth Bear's take:

  The Wiscon crowd is younger, queerer, more radical, more female, and more chromatically and culturally diverse. They read and publish in Strange Horizons [strangehorizons.com] and Interzone [ttapress.com/category/interzone], and they complain that they can't get any major award recognition or a novel contract, despite all their Pushcart Prize [pushcartprize.com] nominations.

  The Worldcon crowd is older, straighter, whiter, more conservative, and more invested in Fandom As A Way of Life. They read and publish in Asimov's [do you really need the URL?] and F&SF [fandsf. com], and they like to complain that there just don't seem to be any SFF writers under the age of thirty-five.

  Gulp! I've been to twenty-one WorldCons but have yet to attend the fabled Wiscon. As someone who regularly checks himself for signs of early-onset superfluousness, you'll pardon me if I take this opportunity to squirm.

  * * * *

  mars needs women

  As if it isn't bad enough that our little corner of literature might be suffering a generation gap, consider that many would argue that we are suffering from gender imbalance as well. While this has been a longstanding perception, it was raised to the level of statistical certainty by a 2002 article in Strange Horizons called “SF and Fantasy in the New Millennium: Women Publishing Short Fiction” [strangehorizons.com/ 2007/20070820 /0women-publish-a.shtml] by Susan U. Linville. Susan found that only 26 percent of the stories published in the “Big Four” print magazines (Asimov's, F&SF, Analog [analogsf.com], and Realms of Fantasy [rofmagazine.com]) in 2001 were by women. How to account for this? She discounts the possibility of gender-based editorial bias, since both F&SF and Asimov's have had both male and female editors over the years and the data on their various tenures suggest that “male editors do not publish significantly fewer stories by women than their female counterparts.” Shawna McCarthy at Realms of Fantasy published a higher percentage of women than men, but Susan opines that this might be because women tend to write more fantasy than science fiction. Perhaps the reason why fewer woman were published was that fewer women submitted to these markets? In a 2007 follow-up article, SF and Fantasy in the New Millennium: An Update [strangehorizons.com/2007/ 20070820/1women-update-a.shtml], Susan Linville obtained access to submissions data from the Big Four and found that “It seems clear that overt editorial bias is not to blame for women's low representation in short fiction. Instead, lack of participation by women remains the clear villain.”

  But if the editors aren't the problem, then what is? Why aren't more women participating? What will it take to redress this imbalance? These articles have fanned a firestorm of controversy, as the genre continues to wrestle with an issue that goes to the core of its identity. Recently two roundtables have gathered of some of our best minds to mull the problem over. On the F&SF site, check out “Women Writing Science Fiction: Some Voices from the Trenches” [sfsite.com/fsf/2008/sl0810.htm], edited by Susan Elizabeth Lyons, which presents fifteen women writers writing about how they came to read and write SF, what has changed over their careers, and what they think about the gender bias question. Meanwhile, at SF Signal [sfsignal.com],the excellent Mind Meld feature gathered together a group of writers and editors, men and women, to address the question, Is There Gender Imbalance in Genre Fiction Publishing? [sfsignal.com/archives/006846.html]. The participants have cast both heat and light on the problem.

  * * * *

  exit

  It seems to me that these gaps in science fiction—both generation and gender —are very much related. I've been at this writing gig a while and I've watched the genre undergo profound change, philosophically, demographically, and technologically. Science fiction has become bigger in every sense of the word. Of course readers and writers who are coming into their own in this wonderful and dangerous century deserve their chance to ... wait, what's that noise?

  Hey, you kids! Get off my lawn.

  Copyright © 2009 James Patrick Kelly

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  * * *

  Department: THOUGHT EXPERIMENTS: ON JAMES PATRICK KELLY

  by Divers Hands

  Our current issue marks the 25th anniversary of the publication of James Patrick Kelly's first “June” story, “Saint Theresa of the Aliens.” Jim has had a story in every June issue since. Now, seven of his friends, colleagues, and students join in a salute to this remarkable feat.

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  Exponential Numbers, Chairs, Nursery Rhymes, and Marlon Brando: A Comment on James Patrick Kelly

  Connie Willis

  Okay, here's the problem with James Patrick Kelly. In the first place, he's not James Patrick Kelly, he's Jim, and whoever heard of a genius named Jim? You didn't hear anybody calling James Dean “Jim.”

  In the second place, geniuses are supposed to be dark, difficult, egotistical, tortured, arrogant, brooding, unreliable, passionate, and complex. They're supposed to dress in black leather, do and say outrageous things, drink too much, engage in brawls, and then either A) wrap their Porsche around a tree or B) OD in an Olsen twin's apartment. You know, Marlon Brando. Norman Mailer. Mozart.

  Jim is nothing like that. He's sunny, friendly, unaffected, responsible, even-tempered, and so socially well-adjusted he even went to his senior prom. He's fun, funny, and charming, and we're just not used to geniuses looking and acting like this.

  Nevertheless, he is a bona fide genius. The trick is that he saves all that darkness and complexity and passion for his writing. He's devoted his life to that most difficult, tormented, and outrageous of art forms—the short story—and has produced a series of brilliant, multi-faceted, perfectly-cut gems—"Dancing with Chairs,” “The Cruelest Month,” “1016 to 1,” “Rat"—dealing with subjects from nanotechnology to the Statue of Liberty to fruitcake, and with genres from hard SF to comedy to slipstream. No matter what he's doing, his stories have flawless construction, pitch-perfect voice, and an uncanny ability to take the most harmless of subjects—a toy telephone, say—and transform them into something dangerous, to take the most tired of clichés and show them to us in a way that makes them not only look brand-new, but gives us a new and profound insight into them.

  My personal favorite story (aside from whichever one I happen to be currently reading) is “Itsy Bitsy Spider,” a tale about nursing homes and robots. But under the deceptively simple surface lies a profound look at guilt, atonement, and the infinitely complicated relations between fathers and children. And all in a few short easy-to-read pages. Nobody else could do that. And nobody else could have written “Men Are Trouble,” “Chemistry,” “Think Like a Dinosaur,” “The Leila Torn Show,” “April is the Cruelest Month,” or “Why School Buses are Yellow.”

  And that, after all, is the nature of genius, isn't it? Being and doing something unique and irreplaceable. Including being the first-eve
r genius named Jim.

  * * * *

  A disclaimer: I freely admit I've been crazy about Jim Kelly since the moment I met him sitting in the hall at a Worldcon thirty years ago. He's been a wonderful, supportive friend all those years, and there's still nobody I would rather sit in the hall or do anything else with. For this reason, what I say about him should probably be taken with a massive grain of salt. Except about his writing. Loving the author and loving his work are two entirely different things, and I would read his stories with the same admiration and delight if I'd never met him. But I'm thankful every day I did.

  * * * *

  Many of Connie Willis's Hugo- and Nebula-Award-winning stories first appeared in our pages. She recently turned a long awaited novel, All Clear, in to her publisher, and we're hoping this means we'll soon be seeing a run of new short tales from her.

  Karen Joy Fowler

  I knew and loved Jim Kelly by work and by reputation before we even met. I had published a few stories myself and was just starting to attend some cons, west coast only, ones I could drive to. So I was meeting some writers and hearing about others. Jim Kelly's name came up frequently and what was said about him was pretty uniform. Jim Kelly, I was told on more than one occasion, is the nicest guy in science fiction.

  I finally met Jim at a Kinko's in Raleigh, North Carolina. We've known each other for decades now and, over that time, I've heard him called other things as well—the plot doctor, the shape-shifter. Yes, he is much more than just nice. He is witty, brainy, ambitious, and accomplished. He is great company, the best, in fact—interested in everything, well read, perceptive, and occasionally, but nicely, competitive.