Friday, January 18, 2013

What Year Is This Again?

One of my best students (who has since gone off to graduate school) FB'd me today to tell me about this guy she is dating.

He's kind of okay, she says, in that he's polite, and generous.

But.

"But?" I FB back.

"But," she FBs, "he's a Republican."

"OH NO YOU DIDN'T," I say.

"No," she says, "that's not the bad part.  The other night, he tells me he's not anti-Feminist.  He's anti-stupid."

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Primer: Review

So in between prepping for class and writing today, I got around to watching Primer, which I'd been hearing a lot about lately.

It's this odd low-budget time-travel movie that scored big at Sundance this year.

And I do see why -- there's a lot to like about it (and some things to dislike, I'll add).  On the whole, it left me unsatisfied, but it's worth watching.

What's good -- I really liked the first half or so, when the geeks are kind of accidentally building a time machine in their garage.  The movie sold this really well.  They talk like and act like scientists/inventors, and the pacing is great.

The dialogue for the first half is also really well done.  No explaining to the audience, no dumbing it down.  It feels and sounds authentic.  You keep up or you don't.  It's nice.

The actors are good, too.

Sadly, once the time machine is built, well, it's like our writer/director (Shane Carruth) couldn't think of what to do next; though according to Wikipedia he says that was the point: these guys accidentally have a time machine and they haven't considered the ethical implications, blah blah.  But the movie doesn't do anything with the time machine, first, (except We'll Get Rich Playing the Stock Market!!); and second, in the last 10 minutes or so or the movie, after we spend about 20 minutes muddling around doing not much with the time machine, about 11 abortive plots come out of nowhere and go nowhere.  The End.

Also: Women.  We have basically one and a half women in this movie.  One woman is one of our hero's wives.  She spends the entire movie cleaning and cooking.  I wish I was kidding.  This is all we see her doing, clean, clean, clean.  Cook, cook, cook.  She calls our hero once on the phone, MAYBE causing a paradox.  Why is she calling?  News about what she's cooking for dinner.

This is what women are for.  To cook.  And to clean.

The half a woman is the daughter of the possible funding source.  She exists only a plot point.

And it's not like there weren't other characters in the movie.  There were.  Minor characters existed. Scientists.  Lab workers.  Officer workers.  All men.

2013.  It's getting a little wearing, guys.


Sunday, January 13, 2013

I Am Writing Lecture Notes....

Here's my draft for tomorrow's lecture on Women's Lit (SO FAR!!!):


Women’s Lit: Lecture One

“The International Olympic Committee announced Wednesday that it would add women’s ski jumping to the program for the Sochi Games in 2014, a victory for athletes who had fought for inclusion for years.”

“The I.O.C. had ruled that women’s ski jumping had too few elite competitors to qualify for the Olympics.”

“In 2005, Gian Franco Kasper, the president of the International Ski Federation, told an NPR reporter that ski jumping “seems not to be appropriate for ladies from a medical point of view.”


This is how it works.  First, we’re told women can’t do it because they’re just incapable of it – it’s literally impossible.  

Then, we’re told, well, maybe you could do it, but it would be wrong to let you.  

It would harm women to do it (mentally or physically).  You’re too weak to do it (mentally or physically).  

Then we’re told, well, maybe SOME of you are capable of doing it – but look! There just aren’t ENOUGH of you doing it.  See?  Why bother making a special fuss for the few freaks of you who want to do it?

(Why weren’t there hundreds of Olympic-class women skiers in 1998, or 1978, do you suppose? Why weren’t there hundreds of women writing brilliant plays in Shakespearean England?)

Then, once we have fought for the right to do it, we’re told “we let you do it, stop whining now” – though “now” generally equals less funding, less access, less time, inferior tools, and a world which continues to ignore us/take us less seriously (see WNBA, or ANY women’s sport, frankly).


So – Women and Literature.

Virginia Wolfe gave a famous series of lectures in 1929, which were later reworked and published as a book, called A Room of One’s Own, in which she attempted to explain why there have been no women writers. (We’ll be reading bits of it.)

Her basic thesis, though, is that women have never written great works because they have never been educated, they have never been given the time, and they have never been taken seriously.  The creation of art, Woolf says, requires those things – knowledge, leisure, respect as an artist.

There are problems with Woolf’s text (she’s way classicist, for one thing), but her basic thesis is valid.

Where are the women artists?

Where are the women cartoonists?

Where are all the women SF writers?

Where are the women fantasy writers?  (Oh – wait.  BTW, do you know when Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and Nevill Coghill and the rest of the Inklings were holding their meetings at Oxford, they banned women from their writing group?  In fact, one of their favorite activities at their meetings was reading books written by women outloud for fun – mocking women’s writing.)
 
Where are all the women poets?  (Again, this is one that used to be true – it used to be believed that women could not write poetry – and is no longer.  But – as with fantasy writing – when men write poetry, it is often [usually, always] taken more seriously than when women write poetry / fantasy.)
Where are all the women bloggers / novelists / screenwriters / directors / essayists….  

VIDA: An organization which each year looks at important publications (Nation, Granta, Atlantic Monthly, etc) and counts how many women they publish/review v. how many men they publish review.  Spoilers: Each year the news is the same, and extremely depressing.




Starting in 2009, when VIDA first published their counts, the publishing world, and the blogosphere in general, reacted to this news as you would expect – if women did not get published and reviewed in equal numbers with men, obviously the blame for this lay at the feet of women.

(Also in 2009, by the way, a blogstorm was happening in the SF world concerning women, LGBTQ, and people of color not being published and not being written about in anything like a representational number with white cismales.  Called Racefail09, it had the same reaction – if gay people, PoC, and women were not getting published in SF/F, or written about properly in SF/F, well, that was their own fault, and not the fault of the editors and publishing houses in the SF/F world.)


Excuses, I mean, reasons that are given for why fewer women get published/reviewed:

(1) Fewer women submit their work

(2)                Women don’t write the “right” kind of stories – who wants to read that stuff?

(3)                Women give up too easily – they’re quitters.  Men stick it out!

(4)                Editors are just publishing what’s good.  Men are better writers.

On examination, none of these turn out to be valid.  (They’re all the same reasons that were given in the RaceFail09  storm too.)  

·        That is, while fewer women do submit, the quality of work being submitted by women is higher – men tend to be over-confident (due to how they’re nurtured in modern society) and women tend to be under-confident; so men send work out quickly, in early draft stages, and women send it out later, when it’s been polished.

·        And “right” kind of stories, obviously, depends on what sort of audience we’re thinking about.  Given that most readers turn out to be women (and this holds true for almost all genres of fiction and many genres of non-fiction as well), it turns out to be not the case that women won’t read women’s writing. True, they will also often read most men’s writing -- unlike many men, who refuse to read any women’s writing.  

·        Number 3, sadly, is valid.  Many women, having huge demands on their time from family and their men and their jobs, if they don’t see some success in the publishing world within a reasonable period, will quit trying.  This is even more likely to be true if their family, their men, and their jobs do not support them as writers and if the publishing world tells them (as it currently does) that women aren’t worth taking seriously  as writers.  (Twilight!  What crap!  Harry Potter!  That’s for kids!  But Joss Whedon!  He’s a GENIUS!)

·        Number 4 is one of those points that can’t be argued with in this world.  In a hypothetical world, we can argue the crap out of it.  Or we can argue by analogy.  It used to be said, for instance, that women could not be classical musicians.  (We’re still told that they just can’t be composers.) And we knew women couldn’t be classical musicians because look – no women classical musicians!  Every time a woman auditioned, pssh!  No symphony took her.  Because she was crap, obviously, compared to the guys auditioning.  Then here’s an odd thing.  Let’s try this, one symphony said.  Let’s let the musician audition behind a curtain, so the judges can’t see anything about them, not what they look like, or how they dress, or – you know – what gender they are.  And when that started happening, oddly enough, we started having classical musicians who were women.  Amazing.  Same thing with classics journals, btw.  Used to be, no articles (or very few) being published in classics journals were by women.  Because – you know – women just couldn’t think critically.  Or do Latin.  Or whatever.  Then they went to blind submissions.  Now?  Very nearly half of all publications in classics are by women.  Well, in the publishing world we’re not ready to take such a radical leap, because (here’s news that will shock you) publishers and editors don’t actually go into any edition blind – they actually solicit writers.  That is, they often choose who they publish before an anthology or edition is put together, asking writers they know to send work to them.  (Two guesses whether they are going to choose writers who are already famous or not.  One guess about what sex that writer is most likely to be.)  We do have information, however, about what happens when a woman writer chooses a male name and submits work under that – George Eliot did it in the 19th century, Alice Sheldon did it in the 1950s, J.K. Rowling did it in the 1990s, James Chartrand did it on Craigslist.  (1) You get published more readily.  (2) You make more money  (3) You get taken more seriously.   (Alice Sheldon (as James Tiptree Jr) won dozens of awards and touched off a firestorm in the SF world when it was revealed (at last) that she was not a reclusive man but a woman scientist.  The (male) SF writers who had lauded her work were infuriated.)

This will be a class, not on how evil men are and how they have oppressed women and how much we hates them, precious – but on women’s writing.  On women’s literature.  How it gets created.  How it gets silenced.  Why it is important.  And why we cannot quit.


Tuesday, January 08, 2013

Carbon Dreams: Science and Fiction

I've been reading (well, re-reading) Carbon Dreams these past few days, by Susan Gaines, another of my favorite books.

This isn't science fiction at all.  It's science and fiction -- a book about a scientist, a geochemist, Tina Arenas, who is working with a newly discovered lifeform, picoplankton, using them to plot temperature changes during the Cretaceous era  and the Eocene.

All this really heats up, however, when Arenas's work turns out to have implications for the global warming debate.  (The book is set in the early 80's.)  Arenas is initially not much interested in this debate, since it has little to do with her research area -- she is interested in the picoplankton, after all, and the temperature changes in the Cretaceous era. These minor fluctuations over these brief few years in this century here, this is none of her affair; she is not up on that literature, and has no opinion on it.

This is the main reasons to love this book: the picture it gives of academic life is so perfectly accurate.  This is what life among academics is like.  (Even the politics -- yes, this is how we bumble and back-stab and plot.)  And this is how we work, too.

This brings in the novel's other plot strand -- Arenas's life outside the academy.  Her father wants her to marry and have children; her boyfriend, Chip, a lovely man, an organic farmer, involved (intensely) in his community (it is Chip who pushes Arenas to take global warming more seriously, though it is also clear that he doesn't really know what he's talking about most of the time -- that's another thing I like about the book, how sweetly it gives is the scientist's view of the non-scientist) Chip wants Arenas to give just a little less time to her science and a little more time to her life with him and his farm.

The novel has four women scientists as characters -- three as main characters: Tina Arenas, Sylvia Orloff, Katherine, and a woman who never appears, one of Orloff's graduate students.  This woman vanishes halfway through the novel -- she gets pregnant, and Orloff will not give her time off to have the child, so she drops out of graduate school.  Arenas is appalled, not at Orloff, but at the graduate student.  Katherine, on the other hand, notes that male scientists don't have to quit science to have kids.  (In fact, most of the highest ranking scientists at their institute are men with wives and children at home, a fact the novel notes in passing a few times.)

Katherine, Tina's best friend, also quits serious science to get married and take a job in a Navy lab -- a job that's not doing actual research, from Arenas's point of view, but one that will let her have a life.

Near the end of the book, Arenas gets pregnant; near the end of the book, she presents a groundbreaking paper at a scientific conference; near the end of the book, she is offered an amazing job, a continent away from Chip and his farm (the farm he has been building for ten years now, which he has finally gotten profitable).  This book asks hard questions, real questions, about what women have to do to have their own lives.

And -- though bear in mind that I am not a scientist -- it writes about science, what it is like to do science, what it like to be a scientist, wonderfully.

I am only sad that Susan Gaines has not (yet) written another book.





Sunday, January 06, 2013

Wow.

The number of people who are willing to call themselves Republicans is shrinking daily.

I can't imagine why.

Friday, January 04, 2013

"I Will Always Know The Password"

Here's something that has bothered me more every time I see it on FB, and yes, I am probably wrong, but I saw it again today, and it's down my neck again.

It's one of those posts where a parent is held up as a great example to us all because she (or he, but it is usually a mother) announces to the world (well, okay, FB) the exact degree to which she allows her child (who is usually actual an adolescent) no privacy.

His (or her, though in this case it's a boy of about fourteen) internet or phone or FB or computer is open to Mom, and must be.  "I own it, I paid for it, you're mine," Mom says.  "I'll read every file, I'll see everything you're doing, I'll browse your every chatline, I will always have your passwords."

And everyone on FB cheers her on.

Because sexual predators or whatever.

And yes, I know sexual predators and horrible people exist online.  I was involved not that long ago (a couple years ago) when the kid's best friend talked to some filth while playing online games.

OTOH: Is the solution actually to give your child no privacy whatsoever?  To make her live in a Panopticon?

I suppose some kids might need such an approach, obviously -- if your kid won't tell you anything, even when he is approached by a child-rapist...but yow.  How did you raise a child who distrusts you that much?

I guess my point here is, if you don't make your child into your enemy, if you don't create an adversarial relationship between you and your child, if you don't create a household in which your child is afraid to come to you about problems because you'll react like he's a criminal, then he will come talk to you (my kid does) when he has questions about whether this person's reaction is okay; about how he ought to react to this comment on this site; about what he ought to tell this person.

I mean, that's how my kid handled the event two years ago: she came to me about her friend.  She knew she could come to me about her friend, is what I am saying, that she could trust me to react in a useful, rather than in a punitive, manner -- to be on her side, to help her, not to harm her.  Imagine if she had not been able to do that.  (Her friend, notice, did not approach her mother about it.)

This is why I dislike so intensely the authoritarian approach to parenting -- the policeman approach, the I've got the big stick and I can make you do what I say because my stick is so big.  From the time my kid was little, and I mean tiny, we've always been Socratic parents.  Come, let us reason together.

And guess what: she's a reasonable child.

Okay, okay.  End of rant.

For now.



Thursday, January 03, 2013

Crystal Bridges in Winter

We drove up the mountain to Crystal Bridges today, mainly to see this exhibit, lithograph prints through history, which was well worth it.  My favorites were several from the WPA years, deeply political, very lovely.

Can you imagine if Obama paid artists to create political art about striking miners today?  Or prints showing Wall Street bankers as demons devouring the country? Ai.

Yet FDR did it (creating those jobs among hundreds of thousands of other jobs) as part of the New Deal, and there's the art, still on the wall.


Monday, December 31, 2012

2012: What Was It Good For?

I swear, didn't 2012 suck?  Sandy. Sandy Hook.  Scott Walker's re-election.  Unions lost even more power. More people getting poorer, the rich getting richer. OWS did not (or did not YET) lead to the Revolution.  The Right in this country grew even crazier. My little dog Spike died.

Maybe things were not as bad as they might have been, though.  I mean, we did re-elected Obama, which is better than the obverse.

And I'm trying to think of some other thing decent that happened this year.

Crystal Bridges opened -- I supposed that's something, though it's a mixed blessing.  Everyone here in Arkansas loves it a lot.  But I'm still a bit bitter about its real cost.

My story "In the Cold" appeared in Strange Horizons -- that was nice.

In February, I went to Boskone, my first real SF convention.  I did like that.

I taught American Epics (that is, Start the Revolution NOW!) this summer.  I'd actually forgotten about this class, that I had taught it, I mean, and how well it went.  So much has happened since then.

I got my shoulder fixed, which left us broke(r) than usual, but me relatively pain free.

I had this conversation with Dr. Skull, which might be one of my favorites ever.

I have two beautiful works in progress coming out in 2013, and I am writing well.

In the Spring, I am teaching Women in Lit (START THE REVOLUTION NOW!) and Writing the Novel.

And more and more people seem inclined to believe that gay people should have rights, trans people should have rights, poor people and women and brown people should have rights, and that maybe letting rich people own the world isn't (after all) the best plan ever.

So maybe, maybe 2013 will be better?

Here's hoping.

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Bayard Rustin

Cracked.Com introduced me to Bayard Rustin.

I mean, how pathetic is the American education system that I have to learn about the coolest guy in American history (okay, maybe I exaggerate, but only a little) via Cracked.com?

America, Fuck Yeah!  Where we learn all about white guys who own slaves and commit genocide, but those who fight for social justice?  Who cares.

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

Snow!

It's snowing here in the Fort.

I know those of you in more northern climes are like yeah, so?

But in the River Valley this is an exciting big deal.  Everyone has been watching the Weather Channel all week, and yesterday every grocery in town was packed with people buying out the milk, bread, and egg supplies "just in case."  (Just in case what I cannot conceive.  In case they had a sudden bread pudding emergency, I assume.)

Today when the snow began (about 20 minutes ago) great whoops of glee were heard all over town.  Forget Christmas.  This is the real miracle.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Why, This Is The Best Idea YET

Making dinner tonight (potato soup), I found myself thinking I should put together a cookbook of these way cheap meals I had learned how to cook: I could call it Meals For Hard Times: When Your Paycheck Runs Out Before The Month Does.

I bet these days I could sell a bundle.

Potatoes were on sale at the Harps this week ten pounds for a buck and a half.  I know all kinds of ways to cook potatoes -- we're set for awhile!

Here's my potato soup recipe, btw.  It's excellent.

Potato Soup


  • One potato per person and one for the pot
  • Two onions
  • Some sort of oil -- bacon fat is great if you have it, but any kind will do
  • Celery if you have it, a carrot if you have it (omit these if you don't!)
  • Salt, pepper
  • Chicken stock if you have it, water if you don't
  • Milk (powdered or canned is fine)


Cut up the onions and cook them in the fat over low heat for about ten minutes, stirring occasionally.  If you'ce got the celery and carrot, cut those up and put them in too.  Use a big stock pot, and enough fat to cover the bottom.

Meanwhile, peel and dice your potatoes.  Once the onions are soft, add chicken stock or water -- four or five cups if you're using four potatoes, more if you're using more.  You can use a mix of stock and water, or just water.  Add the cut up potatoes, add salt and pepper, boil at a simmer for about 20 minutes.

Take out about half and mash up or run through a blender or food processor whatever you have -- you want a smooth puree.  Then stir back into the soup.  Just before you're read to eat, add the milk.  About a cup of milk, more or less -- more if you want more, less if you don't like milk.  You can even leave the milk out entirely if you're really broke.

Serve with whatever bread you have around.  Popovers go good with this, or garlic bread, but toast is fine too!


Friday, December 21, 2012

It's Not The Guns, It's the Video Games

I remember sitting waiting for my kid's Aikido class to start once, six or seven years ago -- the kid was eight or nine, I think -- and the little boys in the class were talking about Call of Duty, and how cool it was to shoot the people in the game until their ribs were torn away and their "guts fell out" and other such delightful details.

These were kids about my kid's age, eight or nine years old.

I remember a few years later, when my kid was eleven and her best friend started playing X-Box, some game where you could chat online with other people while you played, how upset my kid was at the casual misogyny of the gamer world -- how often and how idle the rape threats were that her friend (also eleven) was subjected to.

So I'm not exactly shocked by Wayne LaPierre's comments on video games in his speech to the NRA this morning.

But does he seriously want us to believe that video games are more responsible for what happened at Sandy Hook than the gun culture that his organization has helped to foster in this country?

I mean, how fucking stupid does he think we are?

Money Money Money Water Water Water....

Feel free to skip this post if you're sick of hearing me whine about our poverty.

Dr. Skull had a bad toothache about three weeks ago -- as usual with him he probably actually had it for about two months, but about three weeks ago it got so bad he mentioned it to me.  He wouldn't call the dentist himself, because he just won't.  I knew if he was admitting it, it was bad, so I called our dentist, and she got him it that same day.

Major abscess.  Lots of drama followed, but the short version is, he ended up (due to his diabetes and the bone loss that follows from that) needing to have two teeth pulled and a root canal on a third.

I was kind of hoping to put some of this off until after January 1st, when our medical savings account would roll over -- we're out of that money for this year, obviously, we always run out about July, and we ran out even earlier this year, because Dr. Skull needed cataract surgery.  But the oral surgeon said it would be dangerous to wait, so.

And our insurance sucks.  So.

So far our part of the bill has been nearly six hundred dollars, all of which we've had to pay up front.

This leaves us with forty-eight dollars to eat on until I get paid on December 31st, and here is my question: how the fuck are people supposed to live this way?

I mean, forget saving for my kid's education.  I can't even manage to save enough to pay the water bill on time.  We can't heat the house.  We're going to be eating rice and peas for the rest of the fucking year.

And we're not even poor.  I mean, seriously, we're not.  We're a middle-class family, by all definitions of the word.  How do people who are actually poor survive in this country?

Monday, December 17, 2012

Continuing Adventures of My Kid is Fourteen

So she's doing her Latin.

We're on Is Ea Id.

She'd supposed to be filling in the right forms of the demonstrative to go with various nouns.

The Kid: What gender is oppidum?

Me: (as always) Look it up.

Kid: (sighing heavily) (Looks it up) But what if oppidum is gender-fluid?  Huh?  Huh?  Why didn't the Romans ever think of that?

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

The Continuing Adventures of My Kid Is Fourteen

So it's the fifth night of Hanukkah, and my kid got some Walkers Liquorice Toffee bars for her present.

We had latkes and fish sticks for dinner (not actually an authentic traditional Hanukkah meal, although I do make the best latkes*) and afterwards she lay on the sofa chewing on a toffee bar and reading one of the books she got for yesterday's present.

"Aaargh!" she cried presently.  "This sticks to my back teeth!"

Me:  "Yes, that is the problem with toffee."

The Kid:  "But what do I do?"

Me:  "You just have to suck it off."

The Kid:  "Hee hee."

Me: "What?"

The Kid:  "Hee hee.  Suck it off."


*Latke recipe:

4 potatoes, peeled and grated by hand with one of those tin graters.  Don't use a food processor, is what I'm saying.

About a cup of Matzo meal

Two eggs

Either one grated onion or five or six tablespoons of onion powder

A bit of salt


Grate the potatoes, storing the grated mass in a bowl of cold water to cover as you go.  When you're done grating, dump that water (be careful not to lose the grated potato) and refill with fresh cold water.  Cover bowl with Saran wrap and store in fridge for at least an hour, and as long as seven or eight.

When you're ready to start cooking, drain and rinse and squish the grated potato -- get as much water out of it as you can.  Put grated potato in a large bowl.  Break the eggs in, dump in the Matzo meal, add the onion and salt, and mix up thoroughly.  Just use your hands.  You're gonna be using them in a minute here anyway.

Get out your largest cast iron skillet  (or whatever big frying pan you have) and heat some peanut oil.  When it's hot enough, form your potato mix into flat thin patties about as round as small hamburgers but MUCH thinner (try to get them as thin as you can).  Fry until crisp and brown on both sides. Drain on paper towels.  Repeat until you're out of mix.

Eat, traditionally, with sour cream or applesauce.  I eat mine with ketchup, which appalls Dr. Skull.