Stoker Award Nominees

The Horror Writers Association has announced the final ballot for this year's Bram Stoker Awards; they don't seem to have it on their own website, but SF Signal has the full list.

I'm most intrigued that their categories are all named "Superior Achievement in..." rather than "Best" or "Favorite;" I expect there was a big fight somewhere along the line to end up with that.

And the main novel nominees (as opposed to the first novel nominees) are:

• The Guardener's Tale by Bruce Boston
• Heart-Shaped Box by Joe Hill
• The Missing by Sarah Langan
• The Terror by Dan Simmons

I've only read the Joe Hill, and I don't know much about horror (by choice), so I won't make any predictions or give any opinions this time. But good luck to all of the nominees...even though most of them, of course, will lose.

ComicMix Gives Me the Lightest of Edits

Yesterday, I wrote a post for ComicMix called "Manga Friday: Slight Return," with what I thought was an obvious Jimi reference in the title.

It was posted as Manga Friday: A Slight Return, so I guess I'm just too cool for the room. (Or they have reason to assume I regularly get my grammar wrong, I guess.)

I reviewed the second volumes of four Del Rey Manga books that I'd quite liked: Mu Shi Shi, My Heavenly Hockey Club, Alive, and Parasyte.

I Am So Geeky

Today was the annual Blue & Gold Dinner for the local Cub Scouts, among whom are numbered my two sons. Near the end of the festivities, it was time for the awarding of badges and similar swag -- each group of kids came up, with their parents, to get their rank badge, or special-interest belt loops, or various other things.

My younger son, Thing 2, had completed the requirements to be a Tiger Cub, and so he got his Tiger badge.

And I, standing behind him, could be heard to mutter under my breath, "Face it, Tiger, you just hit the jackpot!" I just couldn't help myself.

(Yes, I know it doesn't actually make sense...but he was a Tiger and he got something good, so it seems like it should make sense.)

Quote of the Week

"In the future, every comic book will be about Hentai-Batman's Neverending War on Horniness. Tony Stark is going to be a well-hung dick-girl in 5.8 years; prove me wrong, internet. In the future, Shiwasu No Okina is your new Jim Lee, fanboys. That's my guess anyway. If I were a betting man, I'd bet it all on dick-girls."

- Abhay, The Savage Critics, 9/24/07, commenting on superhero decadence from Alan Moore's "Pictopia" to today

I Am A Font (of Wisdom)

Today is a day of memes in lieu of actual thought, so here's another:

Things You Probably Didn't Need To Know About Me

Yet another gigantic meme! Picked up from Keith R.A. DeCandido as usual!

1. What is in the back seat of your car right now?
Thing 2's booster seat and an atlas in the seat-back pocket.

2. When was the last time you threw up?
A year or two ago, with a really nasty stomach virus that ran through the family. Before that, not since college.

3. What's your favorite curse word?
I try not to swear (kids, you know), so I think I say "Jesus" the most.

4. Name 3 people who made you smile today?
I'm afraid not.

5. What were you doing at 8 am this morning?
Getting off a train.

6. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
Eating lunch.

7. What will you be doing 3 hours from now?
Getting ready to leave the office for a three-day weekend.

8. Have you ever been to a strip club?
Yes, but not since college.

9. What is the last thing you said aloud?
Something in the "goodbye" vein -- I was on a phone call with a co-worker about changes to a website page.

10. What is the best ice cream flavor?
Goo Goo Cluster.

11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
A can of Sprite. It's not done yet, either.

12. What are you wearing right now?
L.L. Bean greenish khaki pants, Bean yellow striped shirt, battered old-bruise-colored shoes from Big & Tall, and unmentionables.

13. What was the last thing you ate?
A red delicious apple.

14. Have you bought any new clothing items this week?
Yes, a polo shirt with a pocket from L.L. Bean over the net.

15. When was the last time you ran?
Probably to race Thing 2 down the street sometime before winter descended.

16. What's the last sporting event you watched?
I haven't a clue; it was quite a while ago.

What happened to 17?
Steven Brust has it.

18. Who is the last person you emailed?
A co-worker, passing on a direct mail PDF for comments.

19. Ever go camping?
Not since I was 13. Though it's threatened I may have to this summer, since the Things are Cub Scouts.

20. Do you have a tan?
In February in Hoboken? Not that I ever tan much, or try to, but right now it's laughable.

Ok, now what happened to 21, 22 & 23????
The twelve-year-old making up the test couldn't count.

24. Do you drink your soda from a straw?
If it's in a fast-food cup with a lid, yes. Otherwise not.

25. What did your last IM say?
I don't IM. I don't really get the point -- are e-mails too slow now?

26. Are you someone's best friend?
In the words of Roxie Hart, I am my own best friend.

27. What are you doing tomorrow?
Sleeping late, taking the kids to the library, living through the Cub Scout Blue & Gold Dinner.

28. Where is your mom right now?
Probably on the phone with someone about car insurance; she's at work.

29. Look to your left, what do you see?
Well, I'm looking for a man, I'm looking for a sign (I don't want to be the prisoner). But what I actually see isthe far wall of my officeicle.

30. What color is your watch?
Brown leather band, metallic casing, white face.

31. What do you think of when you think of Australia?
"Those are all a bunch of cricketers, Bruce."

32. Would you consider plastic surgery?
No.

33. What is your birthstone?
I have no idea.

34. Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru?
It depends. If the kids want to jump around in the play area (though they're growing out of that age now), we'll go in. And there's no eating allowed in my car. So usually it's a take-it-home deal.

35.How many kids do you want?
I think I'll stick with two.

36. Do you have a dog?
No.

37. Last person you talked to on the phone?
Still the co-worker mentioned in answer 9.

38. Have you met anyone famous?
Really famous, or SF-famous? Of the former, not really.

39. Any plans today?
Got a meeting at two, then try to get work done. (On a Friday afternoon?)

40. How many states have you lived in?
New York and New Jersey -- two.

41. Ever go to college?
Yes. I even stuck around for four years to graduate. (Vassar College, 1990)

42. Where are you right now?
My officeicle at work.

43. Biggest annoyance in your life right now?
That a lot of my job still isn't second nature -- I have to figure out what to do before I do it too much of the time.

44. Last song listened to?
According to my iPod, "Dominique" by the Deathray Davies from Midnight at the Black Nail Polish Factory.

46. Are you allergic to anything?
Not that I know of, other than sudden death.

47. Favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time?
I have size 13 feet; I don't have favorite shoes, just ones that fit.

48. Are you jealous of anyone?
Not that I'd admit.

50. Is anyone jealous of you?
Who wouldn't be?

51. What time is it?
"The clock on the wall says three o'clock. Last call. For alcohol."
Actually, 1:23 in the afternoon, but that's less interesting.

52. Do any of your friends have children?
I have kids, so I'm automatically friends with the parents of the other local kids of the same age.

53. Do you eat healthy?
A healthy has never touched my lips.

54. What do you usually do during the day?
Work. Slack. Plot World Domination. The usual stuff.

55. Do you hate anyone right now?
No.

56. Do you use the word 'hello' daily?
I suppose so.

58. How old will you be turning on your next birthday?
Nine-and-thirty.

59. Have you ever been to Six Flags?
I do believe I'm married today because my then-prom-date and I went to Great Adventure the day after the prom.

60. How did you get one of your scars?
Running my hand along a fence outside the back of my church at age twelve, on the day I was supposed to play the lead in a Christmas play about four hours later. (That's my only notable scar, and it's almost impossible to see now.)

One Thing That's Great About Professional Publishing

Is that we don't have to pretend that we're head-over-heels in love with every last book on our list, the way many trade publishers (particularly of fiction) do.

Oh, sure, if you catch the right editor in the right mood -- say at 2 AM in the bar at World Fantasy -- they'll admit that they bought that rotten fantasy trilogy because they thought it would sell a billion copies, keep the list afloat for three years, and make them finally eligible for the corporate bonus program. But that never comes out in public.

When you publish books for accountants, it's different. I'm never going to say I love Wiley GAAP 2008, but I'm very happy for what it does to my bottom line, and I know it's a damn useful book that makes the jobs of thousands of accountants easier. My sales force is happy knowing that, too, as are the people who sell the book on to the end consumers. No one has to pretend to be in love with anything, and that's nice.

Movie Log: 2 Days in Paris

Julie Delpy wrote, directed, produced, edited, starred in, composed music for and sang the end-title theme for 2 Days in Paris. (I didn't realize all of that until I was watching the end credits, so I'll mention it up front.) I guess it could be called a vanity project, but her co-star, Adam Goldberg, arguably is the center of the movie.

They play a couple -- Marion and Jack -- who are stopping in Paris on their way back to New York after a semi-disastrous Italian vacation. He's a Woody Allen-ish interior decorator, though substantially more masculine than that makes him sound. And she's a photographer who's originally from Paris. They've been together two years, and know each other pretty well. But Jack doesn't speak any French, which does not endear him to Marion's parents (who they're staying upstairs from). And they run into more of Marion's ex-lovers than Jack is comfortable with.

The trailer -- and a lifetime of seeing movies -- will lead lead the viewer to expect a very familiar plot, in which Jack becomes insanely jealous for no good reason, and, finally, learns the errors of his ways and embraces the freedom and joie de vie of French culture (or, alternatively, can't manage to change, so Marion is better off without him). This is not what actually happens in 2 Days in Paris; it's a more specific and particular story than that.

Jack is more than a bit of an ass, but Marion has her own flaws -- and Jack may have reason to be suspicious. (There's one scene, at a party, where Marion's reaction is either real and frightening or amazingly calculated to hide infidelity -- and there's no easy way to tell which is true.) I found 2 Days in Paris to be very successful, and surprisingly assured for a nearly one-woman show. Delpy's Marion is neither a perfect saint nor a histrionic award-bait role, and, from her credits on 2 Days, you'd expect one or the other. Goldberg's Jack starts off more of a one-note character, and stays in annoyed American mode most of the way through (not not without reason -- a lot of the movie takes place as people rudely talk around him in French) -- but he, too, has some depth.

Since it doesn't go where you'd expect it to, 2 Days sometimes feels off-balance, but, all in all, it's worth seeing if you like films about relationships.

An E-mail From My Wife, Reposted Verbatim

Quoth La Contessa:

OK,
Our kids just blew by me in the hallway to run upstairs.
I asked where they were going so fast.
"upstairs to read, so we can earn extra recess at school"
those are your genes, not mine.

The Somnambulist by Jonathan Barnes

It's much harder for to review books that I want to say nice things about than ones that I feel like picking at. After all, what is a novel but a long piece of prose with something wrong with it? And so I've been staring at this screen, trying to put into words the squee! feeling that The Somnambulist gave me.

It's not perfect, by any means. If I felt like complaining, I'm sure I could think of things to complain about. But Jonathan Barnes's debut novel is just so much gosh-darn fun that complaining about it would be like kicking an orphan.

It's the turn of the last century, in London. Edward Moon is a stage magician, midway through a long slide out of fashion. He also is an accomplished consulting detective, of the Sherlock Holmes school -- the kind to whom the police come, wringing their hats in their hands, when they have a particularly baffling case. And he has a mysterious sidekick: the gigantic, silent figure known only as The Somnambulist, who never bleeds, who drinks only milk, whose origins are completely unknown.

(Despite the title, the book isn't really about The Somnambulist, though he is the most colorful blossom in The Somnambulist's bouquet. And don't expect to fully undertsand him by the end. But there I go, quibbling. )

Moon is bored, and has the feeling that the best part of his life is over. But then he's called in to consult on a particularly bizarre death, and a very baroque case begins. The case itself is a bit contrived, both within the fictional world and on Barnes's part, but that's entirely right -- this is a mannered story, heavily narrated, and very much a story being told.

I'm not sure what Barnes has been reading; I found The Somnambulist to be reminiscent of novels like The Lies of Locke Lamora, Perdido Street Station, and Scar Night -- but less wildly inventive than those books, perhaps damped down to fit into our real world. Not that such inventiveness is impossible in an Edwardian story -- witness the first two volumes of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. But there I go again...

Let me be honest: The Somnambulist does have problems, and some of them are quite large. However -- and this is the important part -- it's also got style to spare, and an insinuating, sneaky narrative voice that drags the reader along. It's narrated by a character who remains secret at the beginning but declares himself by the end -- and it's not the character I thought it might be.

Let me quote the first paragraph -- as a thousand other reviews will; it's that kind of grand, catchy opening -- to show you what I mean:

Be warned. This book has no literary merit whatsoever. It is a lurid piece of nonsense, convoluted, implausible, peopled by unconvincing characters, written in drearily pedestrian prose, frequently ridiculous and wilfully bizarre. Needless to say, I doubt you'll believe a word of it.

A book with that kind of style, an author with the guts to start that way -- we can forgive a lot when it comes packaged that way. And The Somnambulist doesn't require much forgiveness; just a willingness to dive headlong into an old-fashioned adventure story.

One last note: The Somnambulist is a historical thriller with some fantasy elements, rather than being a historical fantasy. Its roots are more outside of modern fantasy than within them, which readers should take into account when diving in. In other words: don't expect world-building, don't expect extrapolation. Expect a damn good trip through a never-was version of Edwardian London that you could recommend to your Aunt Hilda without second thoughts.

Because Everyone Else Is Jumping Off That Bridge

I will, as well.

John Scalzi had a long, detailed post about the financial truths of the writing life yesterday. If you have any thoughts about being a writer -- particularly a full-time writer of fiction -- you owe it to yourself to line up and let Scalzi bop you with the Cluestick.

Notable among the hordes linking to the Scalz-meister are Justine Larbalestier and Keith R.A. DeCandido, both of whom make the point that New York City isn't necessarily as expensive as he thinks it is (and that it has other advantages). Others have also mentioned that while many writers have been lucky enough to have understanding spouses with stable jobs to support them, planning to snag such a person is not so simple.

Good News, Bad News

Colleen Lindsay has a new job! (She's an agent for FinePrint Literary Management.) Random House will never be able to fire her again...and they'll soon realize who they let get away.

Steve Gerber is dead -- and he was only 60. I don't know how his Howard the Duck reads today, but it was brilliant, and there will never be another comic like it.

Six-Word Lives

Aparrently, there's a thing going on about people writing their lives in exactly six words. (Pedigree: Hemingway's famous "For sale: baby shoes. Never worn." via the new book Not Quite What I Was Planning, with a side stop at this PW humor piece.)

Since I'm sure everyone is going to be doing it in six hours or so, I figured I'd beat the rush.

Six: too many, or few? Feh.

Hugo Nomination Deadline Is Coming Up

Those of you who either were members of last year's worldcon or are members of this year's worldcon are entitled to nominate for the Hugo Awards -- though, if history is any judge, most of you won't bother. (And I mean no moral judgment by that statement -- this year, I dithered about buying a Supporting Membership for too long, and missed the deadline for being able to nominate. So I won't be nominating or voting myself, I'm afraid.)

Anyway, if you're more organized or decisive than I am, go here and nominate. If you think that you might want to complain loudly about the results -- and you already have a membership -- you might as well do it now, since it will allow you to "ha-HA" loudly in the faces of people who attempt to stymie you with the "but did you nominate?!" argument.

I also note with amusement that John Klima is nominating me for a Hugo for Best Fan Writer. Hey, tell you what: I'll make a solemn vow. If I'm on the final ballot, I will be at Denvention 3 for the Hugos. (That's a safe promise, since there's no way I could be nominated.)

Giving Awards to Everything

I see from Locus Online that the rest of the categories of winners of the Gaylactic Spectrum Awards were recently announced. On the one hand, diversity is nice, and I don't want to be telling any group or organization how to run their awards.

But...and you knew a "but" was coming...both the Best Short Fiction and Best Other Work categories have a three-way tie for the "winner," which is really much too much. On top of that, each category has a quite long "short list" of other nominees (eight in one case, thirteen in the other).

Again, it's not for me to tell them what to do with their awards, but -- no one is going to take seriously an award that goes to three things, and gives an honorable mention to more than a dozen others. It's spreading what little prestige they might have too far, until it's meaningless.

(But I'm a bit torn, since one of the many winners is David Gerrold's story "In the Quake Zone," from Mike Resnick's anthology Down These Dark Spaceways -- which my old boss Ellen Asher acquired and published back at the old place. So that's kind of like seeing a child -- OK, a stepchild -- grow up and make good.)

Perhaps the thing to do might be to create a "Gaylactic Recommended" reading list each year, of stories that they think are really excellent and promote diversity. That would allow them to put out a long list that doesn't look like a mistake. But an award should go to one thing -- or, in rare cases, two -- not to a laundry list. Any award that wants to be taken seriously needs to keeps its final lists tight -- I'd say no more than six, maybe seven nominees, and one winner.

We don't live in Lake Wobegon, and saying that we're all equally tall, handsome, and smart does no one any good.

Also? As long as I'm already complaining? The "Other Work" category includes a poem, an entire series of one TV show, two episodes of another TV show, yet a third TV show in its entirety, several movies, both American and Japanese flavors of comics, and some anthologies. That's not a category; it's a random list of stuff.

The Gaylactic Spectrum Awards could have the importance in the genre of the Tiptrees, and help to focus debate and thoughts about the genre the way the Tiptrees have. But that will only be if they first focus themselves.