Girl cooties in science fiction

Judith Tarr comments over at the SF Signal post about the importance of the Russ Pledge:

I am actually new to SF Signal because when I gafiated, I gafiated like holy whoa. Blew completely out of the genre and went mainstream.

It’s not any better there. And my real heart is in the genre.But when I came back…well, it’s over on my guest blog. The world I found myself writing in narrowed down something fierce at the turn of the millennium. There just weren’t any choices, apart from a specfic few. And I was so disconcerted, and taken aback, and beaten down as it went on, that I got to the point where if I was going to post somewhere, I’d start, then delete it. “Why bother? Nobody cares what I have to say.”

(You’ll have to scroll down quite a lot; SF Signal doesn’t do comment links.) She expanded on the same sentiments in later guest post, detailing her own personal history with “girl cooties”:

2001:
“You want to sell some more fantasy? Great! But can you do female protagonists? And put more romance in? Romance sells.” – OK, no problem, but I’d really like to do a male protagonist for this one if I–
“No, you can’t do that. You’re a girl. You need to write about girl heroes. Also, don’t get exotic. Really. Can you write something set in England?”
2003: “Yes, I know this is a secondary series in an established fantasy world. Yes, I know it’s a great story. And it has plenty of romance. But you have to tell it from a female POV. You can’t sell male POV.”
2005: “Female POV. Romance. Fantasy. You’re good at it. Don’t write anything different. And no, no male protagonist. Please.”
2009: “We love this strikingly unusual cross-genre book! It’s brilliant! We just hate to let it pass. But Marketing feels it’s too ‘girl-friendly’ for science fiction.”
2010: “This is full-on, grand-scale, old-fashioned space opera. Twenty years ago we’d have killed to get our hands on it. Unfortunately, we just can’t sell a book like this any more, unless you’ve been publishing books like this for, well, the past twenty years.” – Actually I would have, I wanted to, I tried. But.
2011: Time to think really seriously about that androgynous pseudonym. No, not because I’m giving up. Because I’m the mood to experiment, and I like to test hypotheses in the real world. A woman writing science fiction set in the medieval period is, by universal fiat, writing fantasy. Likewise if the science fiction is set in a preindustrial technological period, though it’s actually a prequel to a cycle of space operas that predated Stargate by a fair few years. One of those got sneaked into print a few years back as, you guessed it, a fantasy. With a pointed historical sting in the tail. (Points if you can guess, accurately, which one that is.)(It’s not under a pseudonym.) Now it might be the tech level that’s doing it, but all things considered…

Now of course one woman’s experiences don’t make a trend, but at the very least it makes for a useful — as Coffeandink put it — “contradiction of cultural narratives of straightforward political progress over time”. From Judith Tarr experiences it seems science fiction and fantasy publishers have become less welcoming to anything that doesn’t fit into a neat little subgenre, exacerbated by a gender essentialism that assumes that men write/read hard sf and women paranormal romances and never the twain shall meet. The insistent rumour that only two female sf authors still have contracts in the UK doesn’t help here either.

In general, from the discussions currently going on in especially British science fiction/fantasy circles, it does seem as if the options for female writers in particular have only narrowed over the past thirty years, with less women being published, less being read/reviewed and those who do make it forced towards what publishers think are typically female subgenres: urban fantasy, paranormal romance and so on. What I’m wondering about is how this trend correlates with that other trend of increased commercialisation and globalisation of publishing in the past thirty years. Because I think it does.

Back in the seventies there was room made for more diversity, for feminism in science fiction because writers, editors, reviewers and publishers were able to act outside of narrow profit/loss considerations. Not that publishing ever was a charity, but it makes a difference if you’re working for an independent family business or if your publisher is part of a multinational media conglomerate which sees novels largely as fodder for its television or movie investments. The bean counters have taken over and they’re wary of taking chances. What they want is predictable, repeatable successes, formula fiction and anything that doesn’t fit a succesful subgenre is not even considered.

And of course this sort of thinking reinforces the systemic biases already present in science fiction, with the result that it has become correspondently harder for women — and writers of colour — to be published…

Wilderness of mirrors

Simon Reynolds reviews an Indonesian rock anthology:

another example of the trend of reissue labels moving into the pasts of foreign countries and finding there a kind of narcissistic mirror image of Western pop and rock, a mirror-image that’s slightly askew. but only very slightly. so Those Shocking, Shaking Days is really hot, fiercely played early 70s hard ‘n’ heavy rock with a bluesy groove funk energy (the kind of stuff Woebot might dice into chunklets for recycling) but betrays zero traces of gamelan or much else Indonesian… so it’s like we’re going abroad but all we’re discovering is another facet of ourselves, our own cultural hegemony…

Which is sorta-kinda another example of what I was getting at yesterday. This isn’t quite cultural appropriation because nothing of the other culture is taken; it’s just feedback from our own cultural imperialism. Importing this feedback just reinforces our own cultural narcissism without engaging with the people behind the product we’re consuming or the cultural context in which they operated. It’s still all about us.

What postal liberalisation has done to us

Three key paragraphs out of James Meek’s excellent LRBarticle on post office privetisation in the Netherlands and the UK:

Somewhere in the Netherlands a postwoman is in trouble. Bad health, snow and ice and a degree of chaos in her personal life have left her months behind on her deliveries. She rents a privatised ex-council flat with her partner and so many crates of mail have built up in the hallway that it’s getting hard to move around. Twice a week one of the private mail companies she works for, Selektmail, drops off three or four crates of letters, magazines and catalogues. She sorts and delivers the fresh crates but the winter backlog is tough to clear. She thinks her employers are getting suspicious. I counted 62 full mail crates stacked up in the hall when I visited recently. There was a narrow passageway between the wall of crates and her personal pile of stuff: banana boxes, a disused bead curtain, a mop bucket. One of the crates has crept into the study, where the postwoman’s computer rears up out of her own archival heaps of newspapers and magazines. Should these two streams of paper merge they would not be easily separated. The postwoman hasn’t given up. She had a similar problem with the other private mail company she works for, Sandd, a few years back. ‘When I began at Sandd in 2006 I delivered about 14 boxes of mail every time,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t cope and at Christmas 2006 I had about 90 of these boxes in the house. By New Year’s Day we had 97. There were even boxes in the toilet.’ The postwoman is paid a pittance to deliver corporate mail. She hasn’t done her job well, yet so few people have complained about missed deliveries that she hasn’t been found out.

[…]

Every week Dutch households and businesses are visited by postmen and postwomen from four different companies. There are the ‘orange’ postmen of the privatised Dutch mail company, trading as TNT Post but about to change their name to PostNL; the ‘blue’ postmen of Sandd, a private Dutch firm; the ‘yellow’ postmen of Selekt, owned by Deutsche Post/DHL; and the ‘half-orange’ postmen of Netwerk VSP, set up by TNT to compete cannibalistically against itself by using casual labour that is cheaper than its own (unionised) workforce. TNT delivers six days a week, Sandd and Selekt two, and VSP one. From the point of view of an ardent free-marketeer, this sounds like healthy competition. Curiously, however, none of the competitors is prospering. TNT is being forced by the hedge funds and other transnational shareholders who control its destiny to split up, even as it tries to beautify its bottom line by replacing reasonably paid jobs with badly paid ones. Deutsche Post is pulling out of the Netherlands and selling Selekt to Sandd – a company that has never made a profit.

[…]

Van Hulten, who is 81, is still an activist, an idealist. The privatisation of the mail depresses him; the latest privatisation, of Holland’s local transport networks, makes him angry: the three bus companies supposedly competing in Lelystad, he said, are all owned by the same French firm. ‘Today’s Wednesday, yeah?’ he said. ‘On Wednesday, we have at least six people coming to the door, all bringing some mail. First was the local paper. Then the other local paper. Then the postman comes. Three more will come later. I think that’s the basic defect of post office privatisation. What used to be done by one man is now done by six. They’re all underpaid, and the delivery hasn’t improved. It used to come in the morning, and now I’m still waiting.’

Privatisation and competition in the mail market has literally had no positive effect whatsoever in the Netherlands. For the workers it has meant increasing casualisation, the increasing shedding of good jobs and the replacement by piecemail work that does not pay a living wage. For customers, both sending and recieving, it has meant a much less reliable postal service with post arriving later than we’re used to and less often than we were used to. For the companies themselves, it hasn’t even meant profits, almost as if companies like Sandd or Selectmail were founded just to force through this process of casualisation. Only the Dutch Post/KPN/TNT/TNT Post has been able to profit, making more money with less workers than using these profits to buy out other companies rather than do anything useful with it, in an orgy of supposed creative destruction. That sort of thing keeps the board of directors and their consultants in ready money, sometimes even the shareholders, but it kills everybody else. To add insult to injury TNT last year threatened its workers with mass redundancies unless they agreed to an (iirc) 15 percent pay cut. They lost that fight, but the trend is clear.

A run of the mill story of capitalist betrayal, but in TNT’s case it hurts me more because I used to work for the fsckers, back when being a postal worker still meant something, even if like me you only did it on Saturdays to get me through college, or rather fuel my comix habit. That was when even a parttime job with the post office paid well and people who came with nothing but a willingness to work hard and no adversion to starting early could get into a job that offered good pay and safety for years if not decades, without having to worry about having a proper career. I spent my Saturdays with men and women who had done their rounds for ten, twenty, thirty years and still liked the work, even though the first grumblings at the changes the socalled free market demanded had appeared. These days, who would want to be a postman if it means hard and increasingly harder, dumb, unappreciated work delivering unwanted junk mail slightly cheaper for big multinationals and be paid below minimum wage?

Market reform at the post office has destroyed or is destroying one of the proudest bastions of the working class, has destroyed a whole system of jobs open to anyone, not just to people with the right university papers and a business driven attitude. This is not a coincidence.

Fake charity

advert for Kika bracelets

At Unfogged they’re annoyed at the juvenile I Love Boobies anti-breast cancer campaign both for its inherent sexism and it’s misguided focus on outdated detection methods. Coincidently, yesterday I got annoyed at a similar sort of charitable campaign at the local hospital S. is staying in (until tomorrow). As you can see from the picture above, in the public canteen they’re now selling these anti-cancer bracelets to benefit Kika. Kika, which stands for “KInderen KAnkervrij” or “children cancer free” is a charity that sponsors research for combatting cancer in children and which supports the seven cancer centra that do this sort of research in the Netherlands. A worthwhile cause and there’s nothing wrong by supporting it by selling some token of compassion for it — unless it costs twelve euro fifty of which only one euro goes to the charity it supposedly supports!

Because that sounds remarkably like using this charity to get rid of the cheap tat you cannot sell on its own merits.

Fscking T-Mobile

Broke my phone because it slid put off my pocket to the floor and under the stupidly designed railing on the floor beneath it. Had to call T-Mobile to get it fixed, zillions of phone menus later got some phone drone to take my details, which she did, but could she make an appointment to send me an envelope to send the phone to them?

Of course not. That was a different department. So now I have to be called back to make an appointment to get the envelope to send the phone to get it fixed… Why oh why can’t companies have flat help desks that can handle every kind of routine question rather than have us submit to their internal bureaucracy?