Good Friday

From Patrick, by Stephen Lawhead:

“The kings and kinglets fell to arguing then about what should be done if no answer could be found. They were still writhing in disputation when the sun soared high overhead. Suddenly ugly black clouds boiled up to cover the sky and the sound of a mighty wind filled all the world. And though it was bright midday, the heavens grew dark as twilight after the sun has set. Not the slightest breath of wind could be felt, yet the roaring of the unseen wind grew louder. There was thunder but no lightning, and the hair stood up on the necks of men and beasts alike. Clots of hail fell out of the sky and lay in the grass smoldering as if on fire.

“All at once they heard a voice crying out to them. They turned and saw, approaching out of the west in the direction of the setting sun, a mighty champion, fair and tall—taller than any three of the tallest warriors among them and more wonderful to look upon than the most handsome man they had ever seen. His eyes were the color of the windswept sky, and his teeth were straight and white. His chin was smooth-shaven, and his brow was high and fine.

“For a cloak the magnificent stranger wore a shining veil as radiant and rainbow-hued as crystal, and for sandals, hammered bands of purest gold. His hair was pale as flax and uncut, falling in curls to the middle of his back. This mighty champion carried two stone tablets in his left hand and a silver branch with three fruits in his right, and these were the fruits which were on the branch: apples, hazelnuts, and acorns. Around his waist he wore a girdle of bronze plates, and each plate could have served as a platter for four kings. In his girdle he carried a knife with a blade made of glass that was sharper than the sharpest steel.

“Around the stranger’s neck was a golden torc as thick as a baby’s arm, and on the ends were jewels: a ruby on the right and a sapphire on the left. His hands were broad and strong, and when he spoke, his voice sounded like the waves upon the shore or like the rushing of many waters.

“He came to stand before the assembled kings of Éire, and he said, ‘Greetings, friends—if friends you be.’ “The princes and princelings quailed before him, but High King Aedh drove his chariot to where the stranger stood. He raised his hand in kingly greeting and said, ‘I am king here, and this is my realm. I welcome you, champion—if champion you be. What has brought you here?’ “‘I have come from the setting of the sun, and I am going to the rising. My name is Trefuilngid Treochair,’ answered the stranger.

“‘A strange name,’ replied the king. ‘And why has that name been given you?’

“‘Easy to say,’ replied Trefuilngid, ‘because it is myself, and no one else, who upholds the sun, causing it to rise in the east and set in the west.’

“The high king regarded the towering stranger with curiosity. ‘Forgive me, friend, for asking,’ he said, ‘but why are you here at the setting of the sun when it is at the rising you must be?’

“‘Easy to say,’ answered the marvelous stranger, ‘but not so easy to hear, I think. For, in a land far away from here, a man was tortured today—and for that reason I am on my way to the east.’

“‘This tortured man,’ inquired the king, ‘of what account was he that one such as yourself should take notice?’

“‘You cut to the heart of the matter, to be sure,’ replied the stranger, ‘for the man of whom I speak was born to be the ruler of the world. He was called the Prince of Peace, Righteous Lord, and King of Kings.’

“At these words Lord Aedh and his noblemen groaned. ‘Certainly this is a grave injustice, and deeply to be lamented,’ observed the king, ‘yet such things are known to happen from time to time. Even so, it does not explain why you have come among us like this.’

“‘The man I speak of was crucified and killed by the men who tortured him,’ Trefuilngid explained. ‘His name was Esu, and he was the rightful High King of Heaven, Son of the Strong Upholder, Lord of Life and Light. When he died, the sun stepped aside, and darkness has covered the face of the earth. I came forth to find out what ailed the sun, learned of this outrage, and now I am telling you.’

“The king drew himself up and said, ‘I thank you for telling us, friend. But tell us, one thing more: Where can we find the vile cowards who perpetrated this injustice? Only say the word, and rest assured we will not cease until we have punished them with the death they undoubtedly deserve.’

“‘Your wrath is noble and worthy, friend,’ replied the magnificent stranger, ‘but it is misplaced. For in three days’ time the same man who was crucified will break the bonds of death and rise again to walk the world of the living. Through him death itself will be conquered forever.’

“When they heard this good news, the king and all the noblemen and bards of Éire wept for joy. They demanded to know how this had come about, and the glittering stranger told them, ‘It has been ordained from the foundation of the world. But it has been revealed to you now so that you may prepare your people for the age to come.’”

A Short Collection of Writing Quotes

March was rough, and unfortunately I was more active on Google+ and gab.ai than any of the blogs I have a responsibility to. But I did collect a set of quotes on writing and SFF posted on social media during that time.

***

I believe the difference between pulp and slick writing is this:the pulp story springs from an action idea, and is motivated by action; the slick yarn at its best is conceived from a character idea, and is motivated by characterization. 

—Allan R. Bosworth, Writer's Digest, January 1947

***

"To me, arguing about hard or soft sf is like arguing about Coke or Pepsi. The are both a drink made of lime, vanilla and caramel. The difference is a pinch of sugar.

"Hard sf writers who sneer at soft sf writers, in effect, are proud of a pinch of sugar. Upbraid this pride, for it is folly. But do not upbraid the extra pinch of sugar, for some folk buy Pepsi."

—John C. Wright

***

"The science fiction fan is to us what the jitterbug is to the swing band. Out of science fiction's 500,000 readers, only about 5000 of the are fans. But these 5000 make all the noise and shoot off all the fireworks."

—Jerry Westerfield, editor for Amazing Stories, in 1940.

***

As Jon searched for the sergeants, his mind flashed back to himself on the cubic pyramid. He’d wielded an axe. It reminded him of what the colonel had told him about the ancient Vikings. They had roved the Earth’s oceans, savage warriors with an even more barbaric code of war. The Vikings served Odin, the All-Father. According to the colonel, the Vikings believed that a man would always lose in the end. The purpose of a warrior was to live and, particularly, to die well. He did that by wading into battle cheerfully. He laughed at his enemies as he swung his battleaxe. If he fell in battle, so what? Odin would see the valiant end, send his maidens and take the slain warrior to Valhalla. There, the warrior would fight and feast until the cold end of the universe. 

That had been a warrior’s ethos. Laugh at danger. Enjoy sick odds.

Jon decided it was time to laugh. It was time for every Black Anvil to wade into the impossible fight and see what happened. Everyone lost in the end. The trick was to live well and to be courageous and aggressive. 

—Heppner, Vaughn. A.I. Destroyer (Kindle Locations 4211-4215). Kindle Edition.

 ***

If entertainment means light and playful pleasure, then I think it is exactly what we ought to get from some literary work – say, from a trifle by Prior or Martial. If it means those things which ‘grip’ the reader of popular romance – suspense, excitement and so forth – then I would say that every book should be entertaining. A good book will be more; it must not be less. Entertainment, in this sense, is like a qualifying examination. If a fiction can’t provide even that, we may be excused from inquiry into its higher qualities.

—C. S. Lewis, An Experiment in Criticism

 ***

"How does one generate a scientific-marvelous novel?"

"It's all about extending science fully into the unknown, and not simply imagining that science has finally accomplished such and such a feat currently in the process of coming to be."

 —Maurice Renard

 ***

"I believe the difference between pulp and slick writing is this: the pulp story springs from an action idea, and is motivated by action; the slick yarn at its best is conceived from a character idea, and is motivated by characterization."

—Allan R. Bosworth, Writer's Digest, January 1947

 ***

Complete surety of the plot, before beginning, allows spontaneous writing. 

—Walter Gibson, author of the Shadow

Pulp Con Wednesday - Pulpfest 2013 - Fu Manchu and the Yellow Peril Pulps

Inspired by my recent chinoiserie article at Castalia House, it's time for something a little different on Wednesday.

Writing for the Pulps: Henry Kuttner

As far as science fiction is concerned, Henry Kuttner is one of the original Big Three of the Golden Age, alongside van Vogt and Heinlein. Not only did he write for science fiction magazines, he wrote comics, hero pulps, and other adventures, often behind any of a score of pseudonyms.

In the Writer's 1941 Year Book, he offered this example of writing advice.

Let's see if I can winnow out a few important items. Take a look at this quotation:

Throughout a lavish tropical diner, Morgan watched Harlean narrowly. The man scarcely touched hi food. He was blind drunk. He spoke little, save to order the boy to replenish his glass... 

Dave Vern, who was editing for Ziff-Davis at the time, stabbed the passage with his finger. "The reader doesn't see it. It could happen anywhere. But this yarn is supposed to be set on a South Sea island. Put youself in your character's places, Kuttner. What are they eating? What does Harlean look like? Visualize the scene for me."

It was good advice. Here's how the passage looked, in print:

They ate curried meat that night, with shark-fin soup and poi made from vegetables and breadfruit. Morgan polished off a tin of sardines with relish, but preferred to ignore the little pickled octopus in the lacquer bowl at his place, Munching the melon-like pulp of a papaya, he watched Harlean narrowly.

 The man had scarcely touched hi food. He was blind drunk. His thin face remained utterly impassive, but his eyes were feverishly bright. He spoke little, save to order the boy to replenish his glass... 

"Another thing ," Vern told me. "Your villain's too ordinary. Give him some tags that will stick in the reader's mind. Make him a Yankee - a red-haired New Englander who looks like a Puritan but acts like the devil himself. Maybe he carries a sword cane. Everybody on the island's afraid of him. But don't say so. Show it in action. When the man walks into the toughest dive in the island, everybody else shuts up. And parade those tags, too. It's a good way to keep the reader from getting confused."

Influencing People Without Making Friends

Alright, so the recent spat between Superversive and Pulp Rev has flared up again, and I unlimbered some harsh criticism towards the Superversives that I've been holding back on:

The funny thing is I can see Jagi Lamplighter recognizing Sword & Flower as a different type of superversive than Anthony is trying to make it. (Anthony is misreading genre and beats here. Sword & Flower is not the type of story he wants it to be.) Which to me highlights the problem Superversive has. Like symbolism, it exists, but in recognition, it usually reveals more about the what the reviewer sees in the text than the text itself. And when fundamentally and intentionally subversive works are held up as superversive, it makes me wonder if superversive is not short for “I like it.”

I've held back in my criticism because, while I am not a Superversive, I have respect for the idea, and many Superversives are writers and critics I hold in high esteem. I do not enjoy the fact that my first interaction with Tom Simon was oppositional, for instance. However, I have seen a difference in aim and deed that makes it difficult to sign on with that crowd.

Since writing the quoted post in a private group since made public, I have read a detailed ideal of the Superversive, and, barring a minor point or two, I agree with the list as an aim all writers should consider:

Heroes who are actually heroic. They don’t have to be heroic all of the time, or even most of the time. But when the time comes, they must actually be heroic. 

People are basically good. Not all the time, not in every case – and certainly not every person. But basically. 

Good Wins. Not every time – a good story always has setbacks in it. But evil winning is most definitely not superversive. 

True love is real. Again, maybe not for everybody. But it’s real.

Beauty is real. It’s ok to show the warts. But show the beauty, too.

The transcendent is awesome. There’s no obligation to show any particular religion, or even really religion at all. But superversive literature should show the glory and splendor of the wider universe around us, and it should leave us in awe of it.

Family is good and important. Not every family, sure. But those are the exceptions, not the rule.

Civilization is better than barbarism. This doesn’t mean barbarians are evil, or that they aren’t fun. But in the end, they’re… well, barbaric.

Strength, courage, honor, beauty, truth, sacrifice, spirituality, and humility are virtues. This can be demonstrated by showing people breaking the virtues. But they must be recognized as virtues.

There is hope. Superversive stories should never leave the reader feeling despair.

Again, these are high ideals, most of which are missing from the writing of today's science fiction and fantasy. And, given that there are more Superversive writers than pulp rev writers, I wish them success. Transforming the current landscape requires writers, and there is nothing in the Superversive standard that clashes with Misha Burnett's idea of pulp or my own. Their success would make more stories that I want to read.

But now it's time to explain my bone with them. Since the birth of the movement, I have seen Superversive writers and critics hold up previous works of deliberate Subversion as examples for today's writers to emulate. Superversive writers have dug their heels in to defend the Campbellian Revolution from criticism, despite the fact that Campbell's reign was the Golden Age of Subversion and a Golden Age of Despair. And the Superversive collection Forbidden Thoughts was unironically tailored after Dangerous Visions, an unapologetic work of Subversion with a capital "S". It is this hypocrisy that mars the otherwise appealing Superversive movement. At the very least, the standards of Superversion do not appear to be applied rigorously in the critical sense at the present, and not at all when nostalgia is invoked. At worst, the current standard of Superversive is fundamentally flawed, and unable to distinguish between subversion and superversion. So, as it lacks any observable consistency in the critical sphere, I again wonder if superversive is nothing more than shorthand for “I like it.”

A Warning from Dave Freer

Dave Freer of the Mad Genius Club has issued a warning for those who might have ordered his book in mass-market paperback:

"I want to start by apologizing to readers here: at the end of February I said here that CHANGELING’S ISLAND was now available in mass market paperback, and provided a link. Some 96 people clicked through that, and I assume some of those good folk ordered the book. If you were one of them: I must ask you please to check your credit cards.

"If you have been charged for it: you have been the victim of a fraud in which I had no part other than advertising my book in good faith."

Please read the rest here.

Writing for the Pulp Houses: Wonder Stories

This week's advice comes from Hugo Gernsback, the first editor of a magazine devoted exclusively to science fiction. In the June 1932 edition of Writer's Digest, he lists a number of editorial pet peeves. While most of these focus solely upon the submissions process and the failure of writers to pay attention to the guidelines, one of his pet peeves might be of use for the practicing writer:

Why do so many authors like to interject foreign language words into manuscripts when they do not know the language themselves? Very often, authors will use a dictionary and, as often as not, get the wrong meaning. The other day the office had a good laugh when one of our best authors sent in a manuscript in which he wanted to use the word "underworld" but, bethinking himself of a happier idea, he used the word "demimonde."  We receive manuscripts of this sort right along, and my advice to authors who are not well acquainted with foreign languages is, use English.

This advice is also useful with English itself, as meaning mismatches are no less common in the mother tongue, especially one known for "pursuing other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary."