She said I’d need a blaster and I’d need a freezer gun



Nicked from James. A folk song written in 1952 by Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger, parodying Golden Age science fiction, kept alive in filk, then reworked as a straight forward folk song by what’s basically a folk supergroup.

I hadn’t heard it before, even though James had linked to it two years ago, but it’s a great song, sung by Eliza Carthy with just the right kind of wistful melancholy undertone to it.

If you want to know where all the clips are from, the creator put a list on their Livejournal.

Iain M. Banks

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Iain (M.) Banks has cancer and is not expected to live out the year:

“I have cancer. It started in my gall bladder, has infected both lobes of my liver and probably also my pancreas and some lymph nodes, plus one tumour is massed around a group of major blood vessels in the same volume, effectively ruling out any chance of surgery to remove the tumours either in the short or long term.”

He continued: “The bottom line, now, I’m afraid, is that as a late stage gall bladder cancer patient, I’m expected to live for ‘several months’ and it’s extremely unlikely I’ll live beyond a year. So it looks like my latest novel, The Quarry, will be my last.

“As a result, I’ve withdrawn from all planned public engagements and I’ve asked my partner Adele if she will do me the honour of becoming my widow (sorry – but we find ghoulish humour helps). By the time this goes out we’ll be married and on a short honeymoon. We intend to spend however much quality time I have left seeing friends and relations and visiting places that have meant a lot to us. Meanwhile my heroic publishers are doing all they can to bring the publication date of my new novel forward by as much as four months, to give me a better chance of being around when it hits the shelves.”

Damn, this is not good news to hear from one of your favourite novelists. I never met him, but his books had a huge impact on me, discovering them at a time when there were only three Culture books and before anybody I knew had ever heard of him. He has had a huge impact on the shape of UK science fiction in the nineties and noughties and without him, it’s hard to see how writers like Ken MacLeod, Richard Morgan, Neal Asher, Charlie Stross, Liz Williams or Justina Robson would’ve developed.

And of course he also wrote more general fiction, under his Iain Banks pseudonym. That too, is as good as anything I’ve ever read, The Bridge, Complicity and The Crow Road especially.

Good luck to him and his family.

Emotional Mass Effect

I’ve been feeling a bit meh the last couple of weeks, both physically and mentally, for all sorts of not very interesting reasons, so I’ve been fleeing into computer games for a while. Specifically, Mass Effect and Mass Effect 2. Yes, two years after everybody else. I’m not done with the latter, as I don’t want to end it quite yet.

To be honest, as a game it’s not that impressive: an action-rpg with first person shooter sequences, mild puzzles interspersed with lots of cut scenes, the mandatory resource strangled research tree to get your team all the goodies, plus a lot of talking to people. The story meanwhile, at least in it’s broad outline, isn’t that special either: you are the only one standing between Galactic Civilisation and the existential threat of the Reapers and in the second game you have to assemble a crack squad of humans and aliens to deal with their latest scheme.

Part of what does make the Mass Effect games special I’ve already talked about a while back: the heroine, Shepard herself (you can also play with the male version of her, but only dullards do so) and her relationships with her crew and allies. BioWare created a great character, but ultimately it’s your own choices in playing the games that make Shepard who she really is. That’s where the depth of the games, especially the second game — which you can start with the full history of what you did in the previous one– lies in. And it all starts with the character creation.

Femshep

In my case Shepard is a Black, lesbian woman who has a thing for pink and yellow armour, who tries to do the right thing in every situation, has a thing for aliens, always tries to persuade rather than force people to help her, but who does sometimes have a temper on her. She’s respected, feared and admired, as well as a bad dancer. The games give you just enough information and guidance for you to make up what your Shepard is really like; the rest is up to you.

But what really impressed me in Mass Effect 2 was the way in which several of the missions and asssignments you can play bring home the effects of the war you are fighting. In one mission you have to find a murderer one of your potential teammates has been pursuing for centuries, where you interview the mother of her latest victim; in another you learn that one particular Asari saleswoman is so hostile because she lost her partner in an earlier war and now distrust all aliens. There’s also the background on Jack who did not have a happy childhood to say the least. Apart from that, there are also more mundane assignments, like reconciling two lovers, or getting somebody’s precious memento of their dead husband back.

The usual games I play tend to be either first person shooters with little plot other than shoot everything that moves, or fairly abstract strategy games of one sort or another, with no story other than the gameplay. The Mass Effect games are the first story driven games I’ve played in a long time, apart from Saints Row the Third (which is much more cartoonish) and the first games to have immersed me as deeply as a good science fiction novel can.

Dragonquest — Anne McCaffrey

Cover of Dragonquest


Dragonquest
Anne McCaffrey
303 pages
published in 1968

Rereading Dragonflight/Dragonquest I realised something: Anne McCaffrey’s influence on modern fantasy is highly underrated. The Dragonriders of Pern after all was a bestselling series long before a Robert Jordan, J. K. Rowling or Stephenie Meyer had even started writing, functioning as a gateway drug into fantasy and science fiction for a lot of young teenagers the way e.g. the Potter books do now. Yet she is rarely mentioned when we’re talking about the evolution of fantasy, with the potted histories of the genre usually starting with Tolkien, lightly touching on an Eddings or Brooks before getting to the fantasy boom of the nineties and beyond with Jordan, Goodkind, Rowling, Martin et all. Is it just because when the Pern books were first published fantasy was still science fiction’s poor cousin and they were therefore sold as sf?

Certainly the streamlining of genre history often has the side effect of erasing all the awkward, not quite fitting parts of it, in favour of a more teleological approach and too often these awkward fits are female pioneers like McCaffrey. More so than Tolkien she helped shape what modern epic fantasy looks like. The loner, young adult hero or heroine, in telepathic contact with his or her dragon, saviour of the world though looking extremely unlikely to be so at first, all taking place in a largely medivaloid world, that’s all McCaffrey. But there are differences with modern fantasy as well: her dragons were made by science, not magic.

Read more

When Tiptree was still a man

I’m sort of reworking a MetaFilter comment into a post here, so bear with me, as I got a brainwave after some chance remarks about James Tiptree, Jr. As you know Bob, James Tiptree was in reality Alice B. Sheldon, who spent over a decade pretending to be a male writer and who during that time was feted as one of the few male science fiction writers actually able to grok women. Somebody asked why it was that so many people believed Tiptree for so long and whether this was all sexism, which somebody else said it was pure sexism and ignorance.

That too dismissive a response crystallised something for me, as I realised it wasn’t so much that these old time science fiction authors like Ellison or Robert Silverberg just couldn’t bring themselves to believe somebody who was that good a writer could be anything other than a male, but that they wanted to believe that it was possible for a male author to portray a female point of view and female characters so well as Tiptree did. Even in the early seventies there were female sf authors, even if they often had to hide between male sounding names (Andre Norton) or the careful use of initials (C. L. Moore), so that really couldn’t be the problem people had with Tiptree.

In fact, debate about his gender had been raging for years, with quite a few people convinced he was a pseudonym for a female writer, while others, like Silverberg, continuing to see something ineluctably masculine in him. What helped confirm the latter camp in their beliefs was that quite a few of them had had personal contact with Tiptree, writing lettres to each other, in which he presented the same as he did in public, so how could he be a woman?

But of course he was, which may have come as a disappointment to some people, who had hoped that it was possible for a writer with such an insight into, such empathy for women to be male, who saw Tiptree as a male counterpart to a Joanna Russ or Ursula LeGuin. Sadly, it wasn’t the case and somebody else had to prove that it was not impossible for a male science fiction writer to write about “womens issues”…