Tuesday, February 28, 2012

That Time of Year

I'm doing my annual review (late, as usual) which requires me to download my student evaluations and, uh, evaluate them.

The evaluation form, which I turn into the dean (and then we meet and have a friendly chat over it) has a space for me to construct a "reflective" paragraph about the evaluations. I think I'm supposed to learn from this experience.

Mostly my evaluations are really good. I'm not kidding, they are. Like one of my classes this semester, all of the students gave me all 5.00s (which has never happened). I think they must have gotten together and agreed to do it. I can't think how it would have happened otherwise.

But generally I get some sweet comments that allow me to say something to keep the dean happy. (You have to give administrators something to piss and whine about, in my experience.)

My favorite evaluation ever, for instance, was several years ago when a student accused me of "favoring the smarter" students. Um, yeah? And a couple years before that, I got a student get all righteous because I "brought my feminist issues" into the classroom.

Guess I said, "Shut up and make me a sandwich, bitch," once too often.

This time my favorite is, "I love Dr. Delagar. But I wish she would stop saying f#@! quite so often in class."

I said solemnly in my reflective paragraph that I would try saying cocksucker instead.

(NO NOT REALLY!)


Wednesday, February 22, 2012

REBUTTAL

(A Guest Post from the Kid, Who Feels Slandered.)

Okay, that last post about how me and Dad Delagar would starve to death if Mom Delagar left is a LIE! We got along very nicely.

Dad Delagar took out the trash once, and I also did the dishes and filled up an ice cube tray when it was empty!

Plus, I can make ramen noodles without help now! I can survive college!

And Dad Delagar and I went to Fayetteville! He didn't get a guitar but he would have if he had found one he liked.

And Dad Delagar was all like 'do you want some dinner?' and I was all like 'nuuu I don't need your food!'

So basically the only bad thing was that one day Dad Delagar watched war documentaries from dawn till dusk.

I'm baaack!

I'm back from Boskone & trying desperately to re-integrate myself in my life, which, yikes. I swear I was only gone five days. But my life! It crashed and burned without me!

"Didn't y'all do anything while I was away?" I asked the kid, surveying the heaped up dishes and empty fridge.

"Yes!" she said. "I filled an ice cube tray!"

She was kidding. And I exaggerate. It's not that bad.

But apparently if I ever die or leave the two of them will be dead in six months.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Laundry? What's That?

I am off to Boskone this weekend -- leaving on Thursday, flying all day.

This requires me to do laundry today. Well, only if I actually want to have clean clothing to wear at the convention. Which I suppose I do.

(Picture our house, heaped with piles of undone laundry. Towels, we have managed to keep up with, and dish towels, because those are vital, and usually socks. But jeans? Shirts? We just pull those from the least filthy pile...)

I'm also doing dishes, since it's Valentines and I'm Being Kind To Dr. Skull.

And prepping for Chaucer, some time in here...

All those things I don't usually do (except teh Chaucer) because I am busy being a writer.


Monday, February 13, 2012

Snow Day!

First, and only I suspect, snow of winter 2012 here in Fort Smith has resulted in a snow day -- classes cancelled at UA-FS. I had to take the kid to the orthodontist, and the dog escaped, but all my adventures are concluded (I hope) and now I am holed up with the cat asleep on my feet, drinking ginger tea with honey and milk and writing my novel.

More sleet tonight.

I love snow days.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Reading List

I've mostly been prepping for classes these days, reading Chaucer and for my American Epics class this summer; but in my infrequent free time I've discovered a couple interesting writers.

1. John Green. YA. Start with Will Grayson, Will Grayson, a book he co-wrote with David Levithan. But don't stop there! I've read nearly everything he's written now. All winners. His plots are interesting enough, but it is the cast of characters that keep me reading -- always a small group of friends in their late adolescence, slight misfits, smart, deeply attached to one another. And! Real women characters! Always a plus.

2. Nisi Shawl, Filter House. I'd actually read this one before. But we published a story by Nisi, "Black Betty," in a recent issue of Crossed Genres, and my kid liked it so much that I recommended Filter House to her; she liked the book so much I read it again. I'd forgotten how good it was. It won the Tiptree Award in 2009. Science Fiction stories, but not the time-anchored sort.

3. Inhuman Bondage, by David Brion Davis. Slavery and slave revolts in the New World. I'm not done with this one yet, but yowza. Found it via TNC, who makes me smarter every time I read him.

Now if I only had an extra month every week, to get all my work and writing done, and time to read as well...

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

Fly Our Fascist Skies

So I'm getting ready to fly America for the first time in about ten years.

My long hiatus is due partly to the fact that flying tends to give me migraines and mostly to the fact that I object to being treated like a criminal because for the sake of security theater.

(Deleted: about three hundred words of ranting on civil liberties and the idiocy of surrendering them for putative safety, etc.)

Not to mention how uncomfortable airplanes are these days.

BUT IN ANY CASE. I haven't flown for a long time, and now I am flying to Boston, to attend Boskone, and (among other things) reading from Broken Slate.

Anyone have any tips for how I might make this adventure less adventuresome? Shoes not to wear? Things not to include in my pockets? Things not to say to airline security dudes? The sort of carry-on luggage that works best?

Any & all help appreciated.





Sunday, February 05, 2012

What's This?

It's cold here. Overcast. GREY.

Like an actual winter day.

How odd.

Saturday, February 04, 2012

Reading American Epics

I'm reading novels -- I guess auditioning novels might be the right word for it -- for the American Epics class I'm planning to teach this summer. Right now I'm in the middle of Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath, a novel I read about fifteen times between the ages of 12 and 19 and not since then at all.

It's a book that formed me, in other words; but at the time I thought of it as history. I was already, then, mostly a SF writer at heart -- I always read every kind of book, but I've always read thinking about the SF novels I was writing or planning to write, and how this book I was reading might help or inform that.

So Grapes of Wrath, well, I looked at it mostly for what it could tell me about structuring big fat novels and building novels with multiple characters. I don't think I was paying much attention to its politics at all (at least consciously) in those days. Because, you know, we'd fixed that problem.

Ha.

Reading it now, as with Sinclair Lewis's It Can't Happen Here, it's a gloomy trip. Romantic to have expected Americans to have learned anything from experience, I know, or to have been paying attention at all -- but these books, they might have been written a month ago. Same arguments. Same issues. We've got food stamps instead of soup kitchens, unemployment and prisons instead of chain-gangs, but other than that.

Like none of the gains we made made any difference. Like no one has been paying attention.

People are even making the same arguments -- the market has to decide; if we divide things more fairly, the rich will have it all again within ten years; poor people just like not working, that's why they're poor; well, poor Americans aren't really poor, I mean, not compared to the poor in OTHER countries; you can't tax the rich, because they'll just take their money and leave!

I've heard every one of those arguments within the past two months. They're in Lewis and Steinbeck, novels written in the 30s, the last time rich thieves broke our country.

As I said, it's a been a gloomy ride.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Slavery By Another Name

Look here.

Douglas Blackmon's Slavery By Another Name, an excellent book, which was a big influence on my novels, is being made into a documentary.

Can't wait.

Working

Got up at dawn with a short story in my head, wrote it (600 words), and submitted it.

I think that's a record.

Now I will eat something.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

What's That, An Avalanche?

Aside from the four preps I'm doing, and Aikido, and the novel I'm getting in final shape to find a publisher slash agent for, and writing a couple short stories, three of which already have publication venues, not to mention deadlines, I'm also putting together a new course for Summer I.

This is a class I've been wanting to teach for a couple years. It's had a couple of titles over the years -- I was calling it Working Class Fiction for a time -- but now it's called American Epics. A better, because wider, title.

But it's require lots of prep, and I'm as pressed for time as always.

Right now I'm using five novels:

  • Sinclair Lewis, It Can't Happen Here
  • John Steinbeck, Grapes of Wrath
  • Larry McMurtry, Lonesome Dove
  • Neil Gaiman, American Gods
  • Octavia Butler, Seed to Harvest
I want to include a number of movies as well. I have, vaguely, some ideas about which movies I might include. But I'm not as strong on movies as I am on novels. I'm thinking True Grit (the new one), Groundhog Day, The Searchers, Jaws, and Unforgiven.

Any other ideas?

Monday, January 09, 2012

Stuff You Can Read!

It's the first day of classes here, so I oughta be dealing with that, but look!

My story, "In The Cold," is up at Strange Horizons (this is one of my favorite stories, so I am very pleased), and -- two events in one day! -- and I have an interview up over here, at RexRising, where I tell you all my deep secrets about Martin, Broken Slate, and the revolution.

Okay, some of them.

Happy Monday!

Tuesday, January 03, 2012

The People's Museum -- No!

(X-Posted at Fansci)

On New Years Day we went to the museum which, according to Forbes, refutes the DFH's claim that the 1% have been oppressing and exploiting the workers of the world for the past -- oh, what is it now? Forever?

Crystal Bridges, Bentonville. Built by Alice Walton, according to a very sweet story told to Dr. Skull and me and our daughter, as we painted pictures in the Walk-In Art Studio, because when she (Alice) was a child, as she and her Mama traveled all over to the world to visit various art museums in Paris and Chicago and Italy and New York, Mama Walton would tell Alice that she hoped that someday the people of Arkansas might have museums like these -- that someday someone might bring great art to our benighted state.

Okay, she didn't say benighted. But she should have, because it is so. Arkansas has indeed been bereft of anything like a decent art museum. In Fort Smith, where we live, where the university had a surprisingly excellent art department, we have a tiny museum; one of the orthodontists in town, John Udouj, who collects art privately and hangs it in his place of business, has a bigger collection, frankly (and a more interesting one).

Crystal Bridges, while not the best art museum I have ever been to, is the best art museum within 150 miles of Fort Smith, Arkansas. It is clearly the best art museum in Arkansas. And it had a lot going for it.

(1) An excellent building

(2) Beautiful surroundings -- the Boston Mountains are among my favorite landscapes, and the museum includes biking, hiking, and walking trails, plus playgrounds for kid, plus a skate park

(3) A nice cafe with very good food: healthy food available, and none of the food very toxic

(4) Medium to excellent art. I liked the modern art quite a bit, and the pop art selection, while small, was just great. The 19th century had a few really good pieces among a lot of mediocre works; the 20th century was better.

(5) There are a number of rooms, like the Walk-in Art Studio, and the Art Education room, set up for people (kids, yes, but adults are encouraged to engage as well) to mess around with art -- to paint, to learn how art is created, to see what artists do. I can't tell you how much I liked that part.

(6) All through the museum, scattered at random, are little rooms like sitting rooms, living room areas, beautiful little spaces looking out on the Boston Mountain landscape, with comfortable chairs and sofas, and tons and tons of art books and art education books, for you to sit around and rest between exhibits and read about what you've been looking at -- the books are keyed to the exhibits around you. Again, wow. What an amazing idea. And the books are at all levels: kid level, adolescent level, adult, graduate level.

(7) It's free. That means a lot in Arkansas. Unless you live here, you can't know the level of poverty many people face. Getting to the museum is going to be a hurdle of most people in the state. If they had to pay an entrance fee, even a small one, it would be a deal-breaker.

So why am I complaining?

Art generally comes from oppression. That's a given. (We often tell our kid, who wants to be a graphic artist, that we need to start beating her more and locking her in a few closets.) Art is the language the oppressed use to speak the truth when they can speak it no other way. This is why when people say they don't like political art I just laugh at them. Holy crap. As if there were any other sort of art. (And this is why parents forbid children -- the very first oppressed class -- to lie: because what is lying, after all? It is the child's way of using the only art he has, or she has, the art of language, to fight back.)

On the other hand, once art is created, what happened to it? In some societies -- on Le Guin's Urras, for instance, and among those at the University of Arkansas Fort Smith -- the artist gives or trades the work to his friends, for small favors or work in return. (We have paintings on our wall that we got from artists we know in exchange for teaching them writing or grammar.)

But in large, capitalist societies, where the Gini Coefficient is wholly unbalanced? Well, art, like everything else, ends up the property -- exclusively -- of the obscenely wealthy. Artists end up owned by the wealthy. Artists (often) end up being controlled by the obscenely wealthy. (Since if an artist isn't saying what the wealthy want to hear or see, they won't pay for it, and if they don't pay, it doesn't get done. Think contemporary mainstream movies, publishing houses, television, music prior to the internet.)

Alice Walton, the Forbes article claimed, with her largess, makes OWS look foolish.

Well, this is not the case. True, I am glad she built Crystal Bridges, and glad she did the things she did right. I am also glad, as they point out, that she did not spend the money on jet planes or baubles instead, as she very well could have.

But, despite what Forbes claims, she did not do everything right.

Here is what she did wrong: she built her museum on the misery of others. As I walked through those beautiful rooms, as I ate a lovely salad in the sunlit cafe, as I painted with my child in the wonderful art room, it was hard for me to swallow the bitterness in the back of my throat, the knowledge that all this was possible because Alice Walton had amassed a huge fortune by thieving the wages of literally millions of women and men; by working them long hours in horrible conditions, with few or no benefits; by wearing their bodies out and then firing them when they could work no longer; by underpaying and overworking the poorest and most desperate in our society; by driving down wages at factories all over our country, and, in effect, forcing other companies to exploit their workers as well, if they wanted to sell to Wal-Mart -- as many must, in order to stay in business.

Doing this, and then building an art museum? If Alice Walton and those like her had not systematically destroyed the American economy over the past 40 years, we'd all be taking our kids to Paris and Chicago and New York. We wouldn't be so fucking poor that Crystal Bridges is the only museum we've been able to take our kid to in the past three years.

Who builds the art museums if not Alice Walton, you ask? (As Dr. Skull asked me, while we were arguing about this over our Autumn Salad and tea at lunch in the lovely cafe.)

We do. Think of the National Art Museum, in DC. Taxpayers build an art museum, or anyway they can, if they have enough money -- if the 1% haven't taken it all. Why should we be dependent on the whims of the wealthy, who might build a museum, and might buy a jet plane instead? Art is a necessity, just as education and health care are necessities; and frankly it is very unlikely that the obscenely wealthy are going to fund true art -- subversively art. (Why would they?)

The People's Art Museum must be funded by the people!

So while I did enjoy my visit to Crystal Bridges, no, I cannot support Alice Walton's endeavor 100%, and I do not believe, despite the contention of Forbes Magazine, that she makes those DFH look silly. Quite the contrary.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Grades are IN!

Once I have gone to commencement (tomorrow) I will be done done done until January 5, when I have to return to school (;-<) for some charming sessions on how to be a good teacher. You would think I would know by now, yes.

But! Between now and then! Days and days in which I do nothing but read and write and learn Aikido! And pet the cat!

And Hanukkah! I have actually managed to remember to buy all the kid's Hanukkah presents on time this year. I know, it's amazing. I can't think how I did it.

I have a new idea for a SF story. About a revolutionary virus. No, seriously.

My kid: "Why are all your stories about the revolution?"

Me: "Shut up, that's why."