Rosemary Kirstein

Just before leaving for Readercon, as I was waiting for Sabine to show up at my DayJob so we could drive to Burlington MA, I was killing some time browsing the Readercon website.   More or less just because it was there, I clicked on my bio on the Guests page.

This is what I saw:

Rosemary Kirstein‘s eponymous first volume in The Steerswoman series from Del Rey (1989) was recently selected by Damien Broderick and Paul Di Filippo for Science Fiction: The 101 Best Novels 1985-2010 and was a Compton Crook finalist . It and its sequel, The Outskirter’s Secret (1992), are available together as The Steerswoman’s Road (2003). Volumes 3 and 4, The Lost Steersman and The Language of Power, appeared in 2003 and 2004, and she is working on the untitled Volume 5 after having done much work on the concluding City in the Crags. Kirstein’s short fiction has appeared in Asimov’s and in Aboriginal SF. You can follow her blog at www.rosemarykirstein.com, or on Facebook. She tweets random non sequiturs on Twitter as @rkirstein.

Wait, what?  I say to myself, The 101 best whats of which?    (Well, actually, the first thing that I say to myself is: That’s not what “eponymous” means.  But after that.)

Well, apparently it is the case.   I am, as the Brits say, chuffed.

Click. You know you want to.

The link will take you Amazon (and so will this one), where you can read the entry for yourself (and buy the book, because these guys obviously must be encouraged as much as possible!).

Many wonderful things are said about me by these two gentlemen, who obviously have outstanding taste and discernment. Seriously. Their analyses are spot-on. I have clearly been read, and read well.

Plus: Even though it’s The Steerswoman that’s selected to be among the 101 best, they don’t stop there. They go on to recommend the entire series, book-by-book, in detail, which is astoundingly generous of them.

(They also quote the wonderful, Jo Walton, another reviewer who got it right.)

My favorite line: “What Kirstein is doing is portraying how humanity’s innate desire to unriddle the phenomenological universe will persist through all sorts of dark-ages setbacks. Rowan’s adherence to the tenets of her guild make her a kind of proto-scientist, and thus a perfect exemplar of the science-fictional mindset.”

Okay, as a favorite line, that sounds kind of dry… How about: “Kirstein’s compassion for even minor characters is evident on every page, and her prose is measured and alluring without being overworked.”

Ah. My prose is “alluring”. I do like that.

Well, I suppose I could keep gloating. But I’ve just used up most of today’s writing time writing this blog post!

But I must take a moment to say that I believe that what an author most wants in the world is to be understood. Broderick and di Fillipo clearly do understand my work — as did Walton, and any number of you reading this — and what I most feel, really, is gratitude.

Yep, Readercon is one of my favorite conventions, and this year I’m at it again. Stand by for my jam-packed convention schedule.

Ready? Here it is:

Friday July 13
8:00 PM CL Kaffeeklatsch. Rosemary Kirstein, Joan Slonczewski.

Sunday July 15

11:00 AM F Performing Books to Ourselves. Ellen Brody, Andy Duncan, James Patrick Kelly, Rosemary Kirstein, Ellen Kushner (leader). In a 2011 blog post, Daniel Abraham wrote, “Reading a book is a performance by an artist (the writer) for an audience (the reader).” But readers also perform works to themselves, imagining characters and settings and events, and perform works to others when reading aloud. In those cases, is the writer taking more of a directorial role, or is there a more complex synergy afoot, especially when we get into audiobooks, fiction podcasts, and other carefully produced performances? How does awareness of these layers of performance shape the ways that writers write and readers read?

12:00 PM E Autographs. Rosemary Kirstein, Ellen Klages.

That’s it.

No, no I do not complain!  Because, you know what?   Every year, at every convention I attend, I’m so wound up about what I’m going to say in the panels I participate in that I rarely have time and mental space to enjoy watching other people’s panels.    This time, I’ll be more free to absorb and enjoy.

Seriously, I could use some inspiration right about now, and conventions are one of the best ways to get some.

So, here’s the list of events I plan to attend:

Friday:

Right after my kaffeklatsch,  at 9:00 John Crowley is reading.   Is he reading for a half-hour, or an hour?   Because at 9:30, Walter Hunt is reading.    I’d like to hear them both.    But if Crowley’s reading for an hour, he’ll probably win.

At 10:30, there’s the Meet the Schmoes Pros (e) party.   I’ll both be attending and gawking at my favorite writers.   And collecting quotes.   For those of you who don’t know: Most of the authors will have a sheet full of peel-off labels containing a single line from one of their works.   Collect ’em all!  Mix and match!   One of the best things about this (for the shy) is having an excuse to interact with a writer you might admire but who, after all, is really a total stranger.    Works pretty well.

Saturday:

10:00 AM      Book Learning. Gregory Feeley, Kathleen Ann Goonan, Katherine MacLean, Kathryn Morrow (leader), Ann Tonsor Zeddies. In an article for The Guardian in 2008, James Wood wrote that “novels tend to fail not when the characters are not vivid or ‘deep’ enough, but when the novel in question has failed to teach us how to adapt to its conventions, has failed to manage a specific hunger for its own characters, its own reality level.” Not mentioned is the question of what readers bring to this educational experience. Some readers see plenty of character depth in the works of Asimov, Card, Herbert, or Heinlein, but others disagree; are the readers who find those characters too cardboard actually stubbornly refusing to be taught how to like them? When and why do readers choose books that require education in character appreciation, and when we encounter them by accident, what makes us decide to stick with them?

Ah, theoretical stuff — always a good way to rewire my brain.  Plus:  Ann Zeddies, a pal and always a treat on a panel.

11:00 AM      Samuel R. Delany’s Golden Jubilee. Matthew Cheney, Ron Drummond (leader), L. Timmel Duchamp, Elizabeth Hand, Donald G. Keller, Jo Walton. 2012 can be seen as a milestone year in the career of Samuel R. Delany: his 70th birthday; the 50th anniversary of his first novel, The Jewels of Aptor; the 35th anniversary of his classic critical work, The Jewel-Hinged Jaw; the 24th anniversary of being GOH at Readercon 2. Few writers have contributed so much over so long to all aspects of our field—science fiction, fantasy, critical theory, comics, autobiography, editing, teaching, even a documentary film. And he’s still going, with a new novel out this year! This panel will celebrate Delany’s past, present, and future contributions to the field.

I was once introduced to Delaney.   The next time he saw me, he remembered my name.   I can’t think of one other giant of the field of which that’s true.  The man puts my brain in knots.  That’s a good thing.  Ooh, and bonus Jo Walton, whom I love.

Lunch:  I’m hiding out with friends for lunch.   Don’t look for me — I won’t be found!

 3:00 PM  The Rhysling Award Poetry Slan, The Rhyslings are the annual awards of the Science Fiction Poetry Association, and Readercon is proud to be their ongoing annual host. (A poetry “slan” — to be confused with “slam” — is a poetry reading by sf folks. If you don’t get the in-joke, ask an sf fan above a certain age)

I was never particularly interested in SF Poetry; then one year I happened to radomly wander into this event at Readercon.   Now I try to never miss it.  Every time, there’s been something that moved me so deeply I had to leave the room to compose myself.

6:00 PM   Writing Motivation Toolbox. Luc Reid. Leveraging recent psychological and neurological research, Luc Reid offers a brief tour of human motivation mechanisms as well as specific ways to get past writer’s block, inspire enthusiasm, sharpen focus, and get words onto the page. Many of the ideas from this talk about writing can be carried over to other areas of life, such as health, business, organization, and relationships.

Okay, naturally I’m interested.   Could be schlock, could be crap, could be pop-psy garbage, or might actually be useful.   We’ll see.

7:00 PM    Wold Newton Reading Extravaganza. Matthew Kressel, Veronica Schanoes, Brian Francis Slattery (leader), Jeff VanderMeer, Jo Walton. ONCE AGAIN AND FOR THE SECOND TIME, Eric Rosenfield and Brian Francis Slattery of the Wold Newton Reading Extravaganza Series will orchestrate yet another INCREDIBLY FANCY SONIC ART EXPERIMENT consisting of ESTEEMED LITERARY PERSONAGES reading TEXTUAL OBJECTS in short bursts, one after another accompanied by LIVE, IMPROVISED MUSIC provided by a FULL BAND, with the intent of creating a kind of unbroken MOSAIC of what Readercon FEELS LIKE. Come witness our spectacular SUCCESS and/or FAILURE

I have no idea what this is.    I guess I’ll find out.

8:00 PM   The 26th Kirk Poland Memorial Bad Prose Competition. Mike Allen, Rose Fox, Craig Shaw Gardner (leader), Yves Meynard, Eric M. Van (moderator).

I’ve seen a LOT of these, so I probably won’t stay for the whole thing.   I’ll wander in and out, and visit with pals and readers in between.

Sunday:

 10:00 AM     The Seven Deadly Myths of Creativity. Andy Duncan, Joe Haldeman, Steve Kelner (leader), Toni L.P. Kelner, Matthew Kressel, Jennifer Pelland, Luc Reid. What is creativity, really? How does it work? Many people think of it as somehow magical, but in fact there has been considerable neuropsychological research devoted to the process of creativity, and current evidence makes it clear that it is inherent in the human brain: everyone is creative; the question is how to harness it. There are many myths about creativity that not only are unhelpful but have actively blocked or inhibited writers. Fortunately, many of these myths are entirely explicable and avoidable. Stephen Kelner, a research psychologist who is also a professional writer, will give an overview of the myths and the realities, and discussion will further explore individual participants’ questions or challenges.

I might drop by for some of this if I’m not too wound up about my own panel at 11.

And for the afternoon, after my autographing, I’ll just generally hang around and schmooze and socialize, and generally try to delay the inevitable return home, with the DayJob waiting to pounce on me Monday morning.

So… thinking of coming?

Here’s the full schedule, so you can decide better!

BoingBoing directed me here, and I’m ever so grateful, because once there I looked at more Vi Hart’s videos, and found them ALL amazing.

Plus: Math!

Okay, I’m a fan now.

Reuters.

And Scientific American.

Ha to all the naysayers.

I am a happy camper!

But– what was that press release Fermilab did on Monday, two whole days before Cern’s?? Where they said, like: Oh, yeah, we’re almost completely absolutely certain the Higgs boson exists, based on all this data we’ve been accumulating for over ten years, that we’ve been sifting through, and you know what? We probably generated LOTS of Higgs bosons, we just didn’t notice at the time…

I do wonder if they had some serious advance notice of the announcement, and decided to make a statement first. Because saying all that after Cern’s announcement would have been tacky!

When I read Fermilab’s announcement, I thought, “Hm.. why are they saying this now? What do they know that we don’t?”

So I was pretty much expecting very good news very very soon.

And here it is! Hooray!

As I was exiting the Cheshire Dunkin’ Donuts, the sky opened up and dumped rocks on us!

I could not get to my car!

These were some seriously large hailstones.

Coffee creamer included for scale

I had to show someone, so I showed this guy:

He was impressed!

I like weather. And atmospheric phenomena of all sorts.

The Funky Monkey is closed on Sunday, much to my chagrin. I’m hunkered down in the nearby Cheshire Dunkin’ Donuts, which I will never come to again because of:

a) four different video screens playing continuous news/sports/ads.
b) not enough tables and chairs, although there’s plenty of floor-space
c) a bizarre conversation pit arrangement with tempting, super-comfy chairs which, once you are in one of them, force you to stare at the random total stranger who happened to sit across from you, while providing only one place to put your drink, that being the big low coffee-table between the two of you, which you must lean far forward to reach, thus forcing you to basically hold your coffee in your hand the entire time, rendering writing either by hand or laptop utterly impossible.
d) songs like “You Are My Sunshine” played continuously over the loudspeakers.

This last can be mitigated somewhat, thank goodness, due to an app I discovered, about which I cannot say enough good things:

Mix yer own!

I’ve found that I can use this to block out an awful lot of unwanted noise. I find it difficult to not notice sounds around me, which can make working in public a problem. Once I’m swept away by what I’m doing, I’m good — but getting there can be hard if I’m automatically paying attention to conversations, background music, etc.

This little app exists both as a website (http://gomix.it/), and as an app you can buy for your smartphone or iPod. The app version has a timer, too. It costs.. I forget, two bucks or something like.

Worth it.

In other news: Last Monday, Mom & Dad swallow were flitting all around the warehouse, twittering, looking for the kids. By Tuesday, they’d given up. They don’t know, but we know, that the kids are in good hands.

At the DayJob, there’s a warehouse. With very high ceiling.

And big garage doors, which spend a lot of time open.

Our local swallows think this is excellent. Fly in, fly out. A little refuge when it rains. And hey, if you get locked in at night, no prob, they’ll let you out in the morning.

Oh, and this year: build a nest.

Result: a bunch of warehouse guys crowded around a cardboard box containing two baby swallows which fell from some ungodly height up in the rafters down to the cement floor. Babies peeping very loudly and doing the gape-mouthed FEED ME thing. And no way to get them back up there.

Clueless guy: “Don’t touch them, whatever you do don’t touch them! The mother will kill them if she smells you on them!

Me (sidling in to look): “Um, no. Most birds have almost no sense of smell…”

CG: “No, that’s what they always tell you, never touch a baby bird…”

Me: “Yeah — commonly held misconception. Vultures — great sense of smell, vultures. ‘Cause, you know, they eat rotten meat. But, most other birds– no real sense of smell.”

(Everyone now looking at me.)

Me: “‘s true.”

(Everyone looks in the box.)

Me: “I… kinda know a lot about birds…”

(They look at me again.)

Me: “We… actually raised some orphaned birds when I was a kid…”

(Look in the box. Look at me.)

Five minutes later: the box has magically become mine.

And there I was, at my desk, repeatedly dropping globs of milk-soaked bread down the gullets of two semi-naked baby birds with one hand, while using the other to search the internet for local bird rescue people or foundations. Because, when we raised baby birds, my mother was a stay-at-home mom, and did most of the feedings. If I brought those birds home, they’d starve while I was at work.

I was not having much luck, as apparently every foundation that took baby birds was located hours and hours away, on opposite corners of the state…

Fortunately, co-worker Shelley thought to use the old-fashioned phone instead of the newfangled internet, and called her vet’s office, asking if they knew of any place that takes baby birds.

And they did! And it was in my town! And I could get there and back over lunch!

The wonderful Roseanne at the Yalesville Veterinary Hospital is a licensed wildlife rehabilitator, and had some other bird babies about the same age. I filled out the form, passed over the peepers still peeping, and donated all the cash in my wallet (about 17 bucks), to help with food. They were stunned when I gave them money. Apparently, most people don’t do that.

So, all is well, as I was able to assure all concerned parties back at the warehouse.

But it made me kind of nostalgic.

Of the three baby birds we had when I was a kid, one survived to adulthood. Stanley the Starling loved my mom, and long after he was grown, she could walk out the door and call “Stanley? Stanley? Where is he?” and he’d come fluttering down from the trees to perch on her finger. She’d tickle his neck and stroke the feathers on his breast, and tell him how beautiful he was.

And one day, predictably, he did not come, and we never saw him again. But Mom said that was all right. Because, he was a bird. He flew away, because that’s what birds are supposed to do.

It all came back with the smell of that bread-and-milk concoction; and the very weird sensation of a bird trying to suction down your entire finger as you slide the food into a mouth bigger than the rest of the bird’s head; and the sound, as the non-stop peep turns into a peeping gurgle when the birdie swallows. Still peeping, you know, just in case you forgot he was there.

They are so very single-minded. And when they grow up, they get to fly.

Hey, remember this?

And remember last year, when this happened?

Well, guess what?

Yup. Did it again. Totally missed the World Science Festival.

In my defense, I expected it to be in June, so when June rolled around, I said, Hey, what about that science festival? Made with the Google, and discovered that it started on May 30th, which was, may I point out, in the actual month of May.

Well. I found out on June 2nd, and naturally all tickets for the events of the weekend were sold out long ago. I thought of just hopping the train down to NYC for the free street-fair portion of the festival, but alas. Rain and rain.

So, I signed up for the email newsletter so I’ll be among the first to get the low-down on next year’s science festival. But you know, I had the blues and I really could have used a good dose of cool science right then.

Hey, luckily the transit of Venus was the following Tuesday!

Sabine and I headed out to the wonderful Van Vleck Observatory at nearby Weselyan University, where they were hosting a viewing of the transit.

If it wasn’t cloudy.

Which it was.

But they did stream a webcast from the Keck Observatory on Mauna Kea on a big screen in one of the classrooms.

And the observatory is worth a visit for its own sake.

As in: this is the room I want to live the rest of my life in:

Big windows, lots of flat surfaces to work on, and finally, enough shelves.

Plenty of room, plenty of light, and astronomy everywhere.

Convenient seating for 12.

Sabine found the secret switch that back-lit all the old astronomical photographic plates on display.

Halley's, Mars and Saturn -- actual old glass photgraphic plates

(I urge you to click to embiggen each.)

I always wanted one of these:

Constellations on the globe depicted in reverse. Because we're apparently outside the sky. You really should click this.

While we were wandering the room, waiting for the transit to begin, and sighing longingly (well, I was, anyway), the Wesleyan librarian of antiquities came by and started laying out amazing antique astronomical books.

And hey, look! People started showing up. Because the transit was approaching.

One of the undertakings being the observation of a transit of Venus.

The pattern of transits of Venus works out as two within a decade of each other, and then no more for a century or so. Last one was 2004; next one will be 2117. Personally, I plan to watch it…

Because the clouds kept us from viewing it directly this year.

But as promised: live big-screen streaming over the Internet, with explanations by Wesleyan astronomers.

Here’s William Herbst:

Not depicted: about 50 people in the room, and more stuck in the hallway, peering in though the doors.

Given that we couldn’t view it through the actual (carefully filtered) telescopes on hand, it was quite inspiring to watch the event with a crowd of total strangers. I know that I like this sort of thing, but that’s just me, right? I know I’m weird.

Apparently, so are a lot of other people. People who share my longing for wonder, beauty, and science.

Even the one who, discussing the transit with Sabine, asked, “So… where is this in relation to our universe?”

Yes, even her. Because SHE WAS THERE. It meant something. She had no children with her (as some people did), so she was not furthering anyone’s education but her own.

A telescope, once invented, can be used by anyone.

This was just exactly what I needed.

Given that I missed the World Science Festival.

Again. Three years running, now.

Next year for sure!

Mr. Joseph Van Vleck.

But YOU can.

Everything works… In Firefox, anyway. Possibly not in Internet Explorer…

Yep: at Starbucks, getting some writing in before hitting the gym.

Me plus coffee (not pictured).

I cannot, alas, skip the gym. The six months of overtime from hell has left me weak and knotted up. Luckily, gym-time is reading-time, so there’s a built-in reward!

Hey, I got a car! I’ll post a picture of it shortly. 2002 Subaru Impreza GT. Power everything, plus sunroof. I’m still recovering from the monetary shock. I have to rethink my plans for the rest of the year.

Other news: usually my friends Ann Tonsor Zeddies and Geary Gravel and I get together for a few days after some convention, but this year we all skipped Boskone, so we just went ahead and met con-less.

We normally spend an evening doing collages… then last year we tried masks…

This year, while wandering through the craft store looking for supplies, I spotted some boxes made to look like books and had a brain storm.

Voila:

Well, heck -- I guess you can collage any damn thing!

Ann’s book-box seems to be called “Every Hour Should Be Happy”

Of course, I'm a sucker for maps

And within:

A nautilus is a cephalopod. Ann knows from cephalopods.

And:

Geary’s box seems to be called The Alchemists.

After Geary's first novel

Something of the wonder and mystery of that novel is reflected here...

Of course, this is an actual scene from the book, and one of my favorites.

My contribution:

This seems to be called The Black Box

But not, I must point out, the black box from a crashed airplane.

It's the programmer's black box.

With a black box, you know what goes in, and you know what comes out...

...but what happens between is invisible.

Something is there.

I really like how these turned out. In fact, I like mine so much that I really wish I’d executed it more carefully and precisely, and made it a more worthy object to preserve. But we tend to throw our collages together in fits of inspiration, outracing any hesitancy or self-censoring, and and perfection is not the point.

Still, I might make this a Thing I Do.