Posts Tagged ‘delany’

Getting rid of books, fiction, A-C

The books in my own library function as my external memory. I’m going through some of the fiction bookshelves in my office to get rid of some books. So that I remember what I’ve read, and where I could find certain information or stories again, I’ll record what’s going out the door. (And if you want any of these books, ping me to come pick them up. Otherwise – donation.)

Frozen Future A prophetic report from Antarctica. Ed. by Richard S. Lewis and Philp M. Smith. 1973. A very cool book with lots of charts and diagrams. I like knowing what people thought was going to be the future in 1973. This was part of my 1999 inhalation of everything about Antarctica, just before Rook went to work at the South Pole for 6 weeks.

The Speedwell Voyage: A true story of survival at Sea in the Bestselling Tradition of The Endurance. Piracy & mutiny in the 18th century. Kenneth Poolman. Okay, but not great. Too far removed from the source. Why not just re-read Hakluyt again if you’re going to go there.

The Endurance: Shackleton’s Legendary Antarctic Expedition. Caroline Alexander. Coffee table book. Again… go to the source.

Nisa: Life and Words of a !Kung Woman. Marjorie Shostak. Interesting but sometimes I want to slap the anthropologist. Nisa is cool.

Travels in West Africa. Mary Kingsley. Fabulous, but falling apart and missing some pages. I will tear some more out and save them for envelope art and throw away the rest. I especially remember the scenes where Kingsley is lost in a mangrove swamp.

The Book of Weird. Why do I even have this?

Paula, and Stories of Eva Luna. Isabel Allende. I so don’t need this. Allende bugs the ever living crap out of me. I kept House of the Spirits just to critique the hell out of it.

Ranger’s Apprentice. John Flanagan Utterly unmemorable YA fantasy book. Why do I have it?

Dragon Keeper. Carole Wilkinson. YA book set in China. Passing this one on to Moomin. I think someone sent it to me for review. Read it, can’t remember it… I think it was okay…

A whole bunch of Kushiel books. Jacqueline Carey. Might have re-read them once over while sick. Could get from library so easily. Worth keeping? What do you think? In 10 years, or 20, will I still be able to find a copy? I think so.

Xenocide. Orson Scott Card. Advance uncorrected proof.. Going, going, gone.

Agatha Christie. 4 huge hardback collections of mysteries and short stories. Mostly Miss Marple. Others too. Okay, these are around so that when I have a cold, I can tear through them. Again, couldn’t I just send someone to the library to fill me up with junk reading? Yet, these are relatively compact. I’m torn. Miss Marple Meets Murder. Miss Marple Complete Short Stories. Five Complete Miss Marple Novels. Then another book with 5 Tommy/Tuppence novels.

John Dickson Carr. hardback “Three Detective Novels.” See above.

Wit’s End. karen joy fowler. Liked it, not necessarily going to re-read it.

Territory. Emma Bull.. Ditto.

Nancy’s Mysterious Letter. This one sucked!

Jennie: The Life of Lady Randolph Churchill. Volume 2. Great, but why do I have two copies of volume 2 and NO VOLUME ONE?

The Fortunate Fall. Raphael Carter Fabulous. Duplicate copy!

The Collected Stories, Isaac Babel I remember these with affection but have not touched the book for 15 years… Out it goes, if I want to read Babel again, will go to library.

Lynn V. Andrews. Jaguar Woman. sacred journey blah blah. Don’t remember it. Why do I have it? Not the sort of book I would even bother to read. At least not since I was about 13 years old. Book 3 of a trilogy I don’t think I’ve read.

MLA handbook 3rd edition good riddance

Bruce Chatwin. In Patagonia Duplicate copy of a rather loathsome book. It’s so loathesome that I’m keeping copy 1.

La última niebla. La amortajada. María Luisa Bombal. Good stories but likely I am not going to translate them. I will stick with poetry. Someone out there wants this book. Will donate to library…

El Aleph. Borges. Duplicate. In spanish

The Fall of the Towers. Samuel R. Delany. Duplicate copy. paperback.

Sundiver. Startide Rising. David Brin. I so don’t need this on my shelf. Left over from high school.

Oroonoko. Aphra Behn.. Duplicate copy!

Phantom Islands of the Atlantic Okay but just not worth keeping on the shelf. Better idea than execution.

The pace of visitors

Visitors for the past few days which makes you attempt to see your life through someone’s else’s view and of course that’s a funny balance because visitors change the way you do things. I notice over time that Rook and I have our standard “Joys of Deadwood City” tour we offer to visitors; the walkable downtown, the handy Food Hole grocery which means you can stroll to it once a day and have nice fruit and bread and things like that; Buck’s; the cafe. There is not really much else! I’m not up for H4ndley Rock, and Bore “Island” is really just a marshy landfill which is only charming if you like the remnants of industrial waste and highway and undiscriminating waterfowl who need a place to stop over on the way to Venezuela. A person who had their shit together might go to the Little F0x or the big F0x theater.

After those limited Joys are sampled it is a matter of lather, rinse, repeat. Sleeping, reading, lounging on couches, baking, and board games punctuate the suburban bliss. Abundant parking may also be savored by the urban visitor, as a sort of grace note in the symphony of slack.

Anyway! I think Zond-7’s mum and nephew are over their jet lag and eager to move on to the Big City, tomorrow! His nephew has also made friends with bank tellers, homeless people, record and game store owners, the supermarket checkers, and the “Buddhist” cult around the corner in the old Salvation Army church: being a gregarious soul and inquisitive about gang colors, pancakes, and other Americana.

Speaking of gang colors! I noticed for the very first time in Deadwood, some blue 13 sureño tags – big and bold right under the J3fferson overpass! Holy crap! I was pretty shocked and wonder if it will have some repercussions. For 8 years I have lived here and it is all XIV all the time. I don’t know dick about it all, other than noticing the colors & symbols and decoding a little bit. And… oddly… feeling a bit patriotic of the norteños since I do live here. Anyway, the main thing is that I worry that this means new conflict. Though the tags mostly seem to be kids dabbling or fooling around, in this neighborhood.

I have cut Zond-7’s hair, and his nephew’s which was hacked bald in places since he is the sort of person to let small children cut his hair (and who is going Out for a Run about once an hour, in the rain, on the edge of manic) and we have lounged and loafed and walked (rolled) and eaten enormous brunch. Zond-7’s mother is hemming his pants.

Last night most of us went to Squid’s place with Indian food. Iz told me about Cambodia, and Moomin read Polly and the Pirates which I swiped from him later and which was EXCELLENT, and SJ was there. I was exhausted (from having take his mum to the mall which I am still not sure if she wanted to do that for an authentic American experience or she just wanted to buy things). The mall trip was hilarious. I think from having raised a couple of butchy punky superfeminist strongminded daughters she knew just how to manage me so that I didn’t mind. I would balk, suggest leaving the store, act disinterested and attempt to direct her to things she might want, or say harrumphily that I refuse to even look at clothing with fake pockets… and where my mom would argue the point and despair, she just blinked slightly, nodded in understanding, suggested the boys’ department, rifled through it, swept me to a completely different area, and like a kindly librarian matching me with the Book of Gold she found me a magic selection of suit jackets with functional pockets, sleek with no frilly crap, including *the perfect jacket of my dreams* and corresponding white dress shirt. In it, I scare myself, I’m so handsome and sleek and foppish. So, that’s how I went to the mall for the first time in ages, and came out feeling triumphant.

joanna russ interview notes

this I’m trying to liveblog even if it kills me… chip delany is doing a slideshow of the covers of russ books including many in translation.
I’ll keep posting notes every few minutes.


brief notes on friday, wiscon


It’s intense here.

fairly “relaxed” morning with moomin, rook, many many many conversations with ,…. everyone… and lunch with Jam (new blog-name) and wired_ferret.

I have a detailed transcript of the panel on the diffusion of invented languages (Láadan and Klingon), and one of the panel that I was suddenly ON becasue Quilty got in late and missed it, which was very sad, but anyway I liveblogged it while being on the panel, which took so much juice out of me that afterwards I was about to burst into hysterical tears, but instead went to the gender in gaming panel, where Rook was suddenly and unexpectedly not only on the panel but moderating it. Quilter got in about 15 minutes after the end… and Chula was on the bus and t hen just getting off the b us somewhere in Madison and texting me, so I had to duck out of the gaming panel to get her calls. Then all the parties! OMFG a lot of parties. Oh yeah and dinner with Lori, Steven, my long lost cousin brian henry, rook, and moomin. (REALLY good sushi and japanese food… at Wasabi just off state street. I recommend it though I went in suspicious of “inland sushi”.) Steven and I basically never, ever shut up. Parties: broad universe, aqueduct/tachyon, others: flitting from room to room . Last year I showed my underwear to people very ridiculsouly and this year, everyone ELSE is showing me their underwear. So … THAT worked. (score! the spread of silliness!)

funny conv. with L from Seattle that went like this:

“hey, are you the person int he red shirt that i’m supposed to meet that called me…”
“no, i’m the person in the red shirt who didn’t call you and arrange a meeting” (*suggestive eyebrow waggle*
“Oh! What did I do wrong!” (flirtily)
“You fucked my boyfriend.”
“No, really!”
“Ha? Oh…!? Um, which one?”
“You have no idea what a good question that is.”

Then I realized who and that he (“Jam”) was coming up the stairs right at that moment. We all giggled insanely and Jam did the eyelash-batting thing.

After the parties: dropped with exhaustion at 1:30ish.

though can i just add: OMG, Chula’s *outfit*… the little plaid skirt and top with schoolgirl tie… unbearably cute… she’s so tall and gorgeous and elegant…. and cherry underwear, which she showed us. I should have *photographed* everyone’s underwear and stuck it on flickr. perhaps tonight. also, omg, Cabell is cute as hell. wired_ferret wins the giggling easy cheerful hoyden prize. damn! she’s a red hot mama!

woke up way too early, went to farmers market with quilty, then sat in 2nd floor lobby with computers and did wiki stuff at 7-fucking-thirty-am. reading by nalo hopkinson and samuel delany. art show with quilty. rook came for a bit… i bought a print for Minnie and one for chula if she likes it. book room. bough a jesus fuckload of books which i will ship back.

collapsing for disco nap. I’m exhausted to where I am stuttering every time I try to talk.

Talked to SO many people. beautiful, exhilarating, tiring…

link to Sheree’s post about the National Black Writers Conference

A great post full of good links to follow from Sheree Thomas – details from her panel with Samuel Delany, Tananarive Due, and Walter Mosley… and going a bit meta on an exchange in the Black Writer as Literary and Cultural Artist panel, between Camille Yarbrough and an audience member who spoke up for young hip-hop women – a cross-generation feminist moment. I like what Sheree says about that kind of intergenerational conversation being a “periodic pulse check”!

Her post has a link at the end to a news segment, if you want to see some clips of the conference.

on a roll

I’m on a roll with this paper. Adding in the SF component made it way more fun, so we have ulysses, Cabr3ra Infante, Rucker, Wolfe, and Gwyneth.

I’m writing the bit about rucker’s joycean games and it’s actually incredibly fucking hilarious. I wonder how many people have noticed it? For a tiny example. Chap. 3 of Software is a hysterically funny rewrite of the “nausicaa” chapter in Ulysses and also the “bronzebygold” chapter (all the bits where sta-hi is tripping, his inner monologue… extremely “bronze by gold” )

I feel a giant urge to write a critical article on software, wetware, and then another one on Wolfe. both authors I love and would love to talk about their work but not ignoring the feminist, uh, the how shall we say it, problematic… hahaha… the sexism. Anyway, then one can turn right to G. Jones and Delany for the non-irritating literary examples of complex intertextual wonderfulness. But this needs to be done in an overarching awareness of literary history (world, not U.S./British). It’s not like I want to claim impossible things like “look! rucker must have read cabrera-1nfante!” because, ya know, probably not. “Influence” i.e. literary geneology, is not the point, but “context” is.

in good company

I am:

Samuel R. “Chip” Delany

Few have had such broad commercial success with aggressively experimental prose techniques.

Which science fiction writer are you?

Gaythenids? Les Getheneres?Trying to decide

Gaythenids? Les Getheneres?

Trying to decide on name for silly parody of Monique Wittig’s Les Guérilleres as if all the women were instead Perverts on Gethen (planet of the Left Hand of Darkness) and have the names of various science fiction writers and characters.

I was trying to make it not women against men but gender deconstructors against gender essentializers. But some of it ended up gender-wars anyway, with Podkayne of Mars ripping apart Heinlen and Arkady totally pissing all over Asimov. Mainly because I could not resist that image and also having Nurse Chapel kick Spock’s ass. I put Gwyneth Jones and Samuel Delany doing the lambada around a campfire after the big maenid scene and I think Suzy McKee Charnas was eating roast haunch of Stanislaw Lem. Something like that…

Screw pulling my punches… ya know? Why not just go all out with the silliness!

Political news and war news is very hard to keep up with – I’m still doing it, but am worn to a frazzle.

Took M. to see horses at the Webb Ranch. I was trying to find a place to sign up for a couple of riding lessons for me and L. First Menlo Circus. Nooooo… way fancy and one must be a member. Then some bunch of stables that were VERY fancy – the ones you can see from 280 and Alpine Rd. Little kids come trotting up to the totally Barbie dream stables where I think Brenda Breyer must keep her spare horses – everything painted white and green and sparkly clean.

Horses wearing bright green velcro blankets stick their heads out of minty fresh stalls, nickering gently. Little blond kids wearing fancy chaps and two hundred dollar riding boots swing off giant shining arabian monsters named Aladdin (just like that stripper!) and Destiny (just like another stripper I once knew!) and then the kids walk away and get a coke and wait for their mom’s SUV and meanwhile Juan and Jose, no habla ingles, come and tend the giant horse, whisk its tack off of it, polish it to a newly high sheen. Mira esta chica payasa… que pelo! I try to look like I’m not listening. I watch them OIL ITS HOOVES. Thought they only did that for fancy shows?

Ya know, when I took riding lessons we had to clean the horses ourselves… isn’t that part of it? *boggle* It’s nice that José has a job. But the kids looked like total snotwads.

We finally got to the Webb Ranch, which was all scuzzy, stables everywhere in varying degrees of decrepitude, riding lessons in progress everywhere, giant crowds of 10 year old girls milling around and fighting over who gets which horse. M. and I watched a riding lesson. The little “office” smelled of wet horse and moldy saddle blankets and leather and saddle soap – just like “Mi Rancho” where I used to take lessons with Pam and bring our pleasantly butchy teacher these kind of pathetic little pencil drawings of horses with long flowing manes.

There were signs up on all the falling-apart stables “Maintained by Julio”, “Maintained by Nestor”. I guess here the kids brush the horses and they pay guys to muck out the stalls… however, they apparently don’t pay them to LICK EVERYTHING CLEAN like that freakish other place – I think it was called Clarendon or Clareton Ranch. Man! I still can’t get over how fancy it was! Did not know that horse stable could look so much like some kind of theme restaurant in Disneyland.

Am a bit concerned over brushing the horse. Will it be like that time I touched the chickens? Will my eyes swell up from allergies so bad I won’t even be able to move? Maybe can find Julio or Nestor, or some little kid, and slip them a 5 to do it for me… Arrr matey!

M. scared of the horses. They are humonguous, and roll their eyes so you see the whites, and bare their huge yellowy teeth, and you can see up their slimy nostrils, and greenish grassy slobber comes drooling out of their mouths around the bit. I hope he does not have nightmares. I think he would be more into a “My Pretty Pony” sort of horse that was about 2 feet high.