Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Category Archives: Books ‘n’ Authors
At least you girls have Fabio
I’m feeling a bit wiped out from my editing work, so I decided to hand today’s blog off to Bare Rump. In case you don’t know her, Bare Rump is a ten-foot-long, eight-legged research scientist from the Tromatopelman planet M833-G1a. Like the rest of her kind, she has a rather odd take on romance which I’m sure you will appreciate. Actually, Bare Rump is an atypical Tromatopelman female; she’s had her share of lovers, but presently enjoys a long term relationship with a Grith Lyssome intelligence officer whom she calls Lord Valor.
As for why Bare Rump is here on Earth, you can read more about that here.
Oof. That’s it for me. Be nice to my favorite girl.
Bare Rump here, y’all. (Ooh, my Texas time is showing!) Doug wanted to take a bit of time off from the blog, and since I have been ever so negligent updating mine, I volunteered. Lord Valor offered, but what could he write about? Poop and software, that’s all my lover knows. Well, he also understands how to show a girl a good time. Dear me yes. If only you could see the way he rolls me onto my dorsum and sets me a-quiver with that magical proboscis of his — but, heck! This isn’t the Epigynum Monologues, for gosh sakes.
Doug has left it up to me to introduce you to my planet’s top-selling Romance novelist, Bronwyn Webweaver. A bit of background: Bronwyn was born the only daughter in an egg sac of eight. She excelled at her schoolwork and rapidly grew big and strong. As an only daughter, she had to skip college and take work as a legal secretary. “I could type fast but couldn’t spell. I was the worst legal secretary ever,” she says now.
She took a mate who survived their first encounter only to get too zealous on the second. Now fat and pregnant, Bronwyn took a job as a botanist’s assistant at the University of South Underland. Her work forced her aboveground on a daily basis, collecting moss and lichen samples for her bosses. The now famous mugwasp storm of 4079 forced her to stick to her tunnels, and out of boredom, she took up a pencil and notepad and wrote out the rough draft for her first novel, Silk Bondage (4080).
Silk Bondage suffers from first novel syndrome, sadly. Way too much angst and not enough sex. For my money, Web of Desire (4081) was her first true hit.
I love this book, but Miss Webweaver, puh-lease, what is up with your cover artist? Start with those silk sheets. Girl, it looks like your red-kneed hobag of a heroine has just worked her way through the entire South Underland Males’ Varsity Yabbaball Team on those very sheets. My advice? Find a good dry cleaner.
And those little black balls. Are those . . . no, please don’t tell me those are thought bubbles. Your heroine apparently fantasizes about beady-eyed males with Fu Manchu pedipalps. And where are the rest of his legs? Good God, girl, have you been snacking?
I have only one word to say about the male on the cover of Bronwyn’s next book:
HAWT.
Take me, take me now, you great savage wonderful hairy bastard you. Burn me with those Palps of Fire. I promise I won’t even snark on that weird-ass floral arrangement you have on the left margin — what is that, Baby’s Breath? — okay, I said I wouldn’t snark. But gaaawd look at those stout glorious pedipalps. You know they don’t make pedipalps that big in nature, so what is this, some sort of cruel photoshopping stunt? Cover artists are mean bitches, I tell ya.
Only one problem. He’s a little too perfect. He’s like, “Look at me, God’s gift to females. You’d be lucky to come within a mile of my sperm web,” and I’d be like, “Dude, if you don’t get over yourself, I’m going to fix those two buttonholes on your thorax,” and he’ll be all, “I don’t have two buttonholes,” and then WHAM! I’d be all, “You do now, dude.”
Um, Doug? Don’t let Lord Valor read those last two paragraphs. He can be awfully possessive.
And now, on to my favorite Bronwyn Webweaver novel:
“I salivated for days!” says Emma Longfang of the Silken Times. Yeah, you would, Emma. You haven’t tasted male-meat in decades, you desiccated skank hobag. (That’ll teach you to snark on my abdominal hair condition on network TV, bitch.)
Damn, she pisses me off. Such a perfect cover, and Emma “Drool Problem” Longass has to ruin it with her stupid witticisms — not. Grrrr.
Okay. Take a deep breath, clear head, concentrate on Sex at Seven, Dinner at Eight. Aaah.
Everything about this book is perfect. Start with the title: why not treat copulatory arachnicide with honesty and a sense of fun? Girls, be honest: who among you hasn’t sucked dry your share of males? The one who says no, she’s an anorexic. You humans aren’t so different than us.
Then there’s that dude on the table. Man, they don’t get more dashing than that. Yeah, he looks like he’s about ready to dash clean off the table before I get my chance to pounce. And the way he’s holding his forelegs, he almost looks intelligent, don’t ya think? Sure, it’s not realistic, since most of our males can’t be trusted to dig a tunnel without burying themselves alive. But a girl can dream.
He sure is one handsome bad-ass brute. Only thing I don’t like about it is the wine glass. If I have to listen to one more “I don’t drink . . . wine” joke, I’m going to barf. And you wouldn’t like me when I barf.
As for the story, here’s the deal. Bawb is a handsome young home-spinner who gets drunk one night with his buddies. One of them, Dood, bets Bawb that he can’t survive six matings in a row with the ladies from the Girls Who Don’t Suck dating service. Bawb takes the bet, figuring he won’t mind too much if he loses since he’ll be dead. Little does he know that Dood has lined up his sister Scythee as Bawb’s last date. Scythee is legendary in their community; no male has ever survived her embrace. Will she be his last date, literally?
WARNING! SPOILERS!
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Bawb’s sister warns Bawb of Dood’s trickery and tells him to tell Scythee that he (Bawb) has a rare blood disease, making him unpalatable. The first five girls learn about Bawb’s supposed blood disease and they are righteously pissed that he didn’t warn them. Comical hijinks follow. Meanwhile, Scythee has little else to do but admire Bawb’s good looks, and, lo and behold, she falls in love with him. She saves Bawb from the other girls’ attacks.
Bawb desperately wants to inseminate Scythee, but Scythee is leery of the blood disease. Bawb gets his sister to explain everything. Scythee falls in love with Bawb’s sister. Together, they eat Bawb and then take a long vacation in the Crystal Caverns.
Banned Books Week: the Muffin POV
Thanks to Kate for pointing out that, here in the (still free, but for a limited time only) US of A, it’s the American Library Association’s Banned Books Week.
Funny thing: one way or another, I would have found this out. I was trying to research Muffin attitudes towards child-rearing when I discovered the Buried Treasure Weblog, which is the online home of the Muffin Manifesto. (I blogged on this yesterday.) Carmon, the Buried Treasure Muffin Maven, has this to say about Banned Books Week:
“You probably already guessed that I don’t think all ideas are created equal. In fact, I think some ideas are so blasphemous that they ought to be challenged and yes, sometimes banned. The French Revolution was the ultimate object lesson on the aphorism “ideas have consequencesâ€: the evil, humanist ideas of the Enlightenment led to deadly consequences.”
How’s that for historical revisionism?
Carmon urges her readers to celebrate Official Discernment Week instead. Here’s another snippet:
“Even as we rejoice in the increasing quantity and availability of Christian reading matter, we must be vigilant to ensure that we teach our children to obey and honor God, and protect their impressionable minds from pervasive and perverse influences. Threats to their spiritual well-being exist in many quarters, even public libraries, on public television and yes, even on Fox News.”
Fox News: corrupter of our youth. I like this woman.
Not.
Next up: How many is too many?
D.
Review of Asimov’s, December 2005
For you SF fans, my review of Asimov’s December edition is up at Tangent.
I’ve been kvetching to my editor, Eugie Foster, about having to read so much mainstream SF, but honestly, this issue rocked. Two superb stories, and I mean top drawer (Damian Kilby’s “Earthtime”, and James Maxey’s “To the East, a Bright Star”), three good stories, and only one tale which required Mr. Snarkypencil.
I liked Kilby’s and Maxey’s stories best because of their rich sense of humanity. Which is a poofy way of saying, they wrote about believable human beings and made me care about them. I’m a sucker for heartstring-tugs, and both stories gave me lots of the good stuff.
Those two stories also gave me a better sense of what’s wrong with my current short, “Renee”. The damned thing lacks heart. I wrote it for one of Keith’s 500 word challenges, so I’d had to cut back on everything. Minimal description, bare bones characterization, everything pared down to the core idea. It’s a fine idea, but the story will be much better if I can give it a heart and soul.
Back to the drawing board.
D.
Page-turners
What makes a book a page-turner?
When I’m in the office, I have lots to do: read PC Gamer, Harper’s Magazine, Science, Nature, or even the random professional journal; surf blogs; catch up on my bottomless chart basket; feed the frogs. And I see patients, too.
That’s why it’s always remarkable when I find a book that demands I keep reading it no matter what. I’ll squeeze in a half hour of reading time before the patients roll in, five or ten minutes between patients, and my lunch break, all to finish the damned book. This is uncommon enough that I can count these books on one hand.
Hateful Heroes and Heroines
I thought it might be fun to bring the rest of you in on my discussion with Pat regarding unsympathetic protagonists. (See comments to this post.)
It’s not tough making your protag likable and sympathetic. Long ago, I read some advice on this: when you introduce your protag, either (A) have him tell a joke, or (B) put him in an embarrassing or humiliating situation.
The joke. It had damn well better be funny, and not annoying-funny, either. You want your reader to like your protag, okay? Also, by ‘tell a joke’, I don’t mean, “So a rabbi, a priest, and a bowl of guacamole walk into a bar.” ‘A joke’ in this context means anything that will make the reader smile. Chandler’s introduction of Phillip Marlowe in the beginning of The Big Sleep is a good example. In first person POV, Marlowe describes what he’s wearing, and if you have any imagination you’ll be grinning by the end of that description. Also, think about how rapidly Mark Twain establishes rapport between the reader and Huck in the beginning of Huck Finn.
Embarrassment. Preferably, this should be a situation a reader can easily relate to. The first example which comes to my mind: from the Analog issue I recently reviewed, Richard Lovett’s “Zero Tolerance”. Lovett opens the story by having his middle-aged protag dressed in a Harry Potter outfit for a Halloween costume party. He’s turned away at the door because he doesn’t have ID and can’t prove his age (even though he’s old enough to pass for Dumbledore — and that’s Lovett’s joke, not mine. He’s using both techniques to build empathy). Now he has to roam the city in a silly Harry Potter outfit.
I’ll add more examples of this in the Comments, when I remember ’em.
I’d also add (C) put your protag in a situation which highlights one or more of her better traits.
Here’s how Lizzy is introduced in Pride and Prejudice. Lizzy’s mom is talking to Lizzy’s dad :
“… Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference.”
“They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied he; “they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters.”
Sure, this is thinly veiled ‘telling’, but it succeeds nonetheless in building sympathy for all the Bennett sisters (What do you mean, ‘none of them much to recommend them’ — what kind of father is that?) and Lizzy in particular. We’re also told that Lizzy is ‘quick’. Soon enough, we see that quick wit in action.
To cross genres (big time), think about the ‘Deliverator’ opening in Snowcrash. (Amazon has their ‘look inside’ function enabled, in case you’re interested.) Stephenson introduces Hiro Protagonist as a determined man of action with a sense of humor to burn. Hiro’s focus on delivering his pizza before the deadline tells us all we need to know.
That said, I confess I never felt too much empathy or sympathy for Hiro. His smugness put me off. The female lead, YT, had a lot more going for her in the empathy department.
One last point. (D) You can get a lot of mileage if your character appears full of mystery. Here, I’m thinking about the opening to Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. Here’s how Conrad introduces Marlow:
Marlow sat cross-legged right aft, leaning against the mizzenmast. He had sunken cheeks, a yellow complexion, a straight back, an ascetic aspect, and, with his arms dropped, the palms of hands outwards, resembled an idol.
What’s the first thing out of his mouth?
“And this also,†said Marlow suddenly, “has been one of the dark places of the earth.â€
They’re on the Thames, for cryin’ out loud. The last thing the stodgy Brits on the boat with Marlow want to hear is a comparison of London to the Congo — yet that’s the whole point. What the hell is Marlow thinking? What’s on his mind? Out with it, already!
Okay, I’ve blathered on too long. (I haven’t even gotten to Janet Evanovich’s introduction of Stephanie Plum in One for the Money.) Now it’s your turn.
D.
On a sharper note,
I tracked down the submission guidelines for Tor Books, and I happily note that they’ll accept unagented submissions. They also give a 4 to 6 month turnaround on such submissions.
I’m tempted to send in my ‘first three chapters plus synopsis’ even though I am still editing, but I just know this sort of amateurish move would bite me in the ass.
Patience . . . patience . . .
Why Tor? Cuz they published John C. Wright’s The Golden Age, another MEGA novel that they had to divide up into three books. So they shouldn’t cringe at my 300K-word tome, right?
D.
Last Bird Fluffing
Last Girl Dancing by Holly Lisle
My pal Debi keeps telling me I should write romance, but I don’t know. She’s basing her opinion on the fact I can write hot bird-on-bird and fly-on-spider sex scenes. But, really — how tough is that?
The real challenge would be to create believable (human) male and female characters*, get ’em to fall in love, and have the reader care about them. I’ve never tried this, but I suspect it’s a lot tougher than it sounds. For one thing, I’d have to crawl into a female skin and imagine sexual attraction from a female POV. I don’t have any homophobic resistance to doing this; I’m just not sure I could. Men are . . . well, you know. Icky.
Holly Lisle takes on the challenge in her “police procedural romance” (one Amazon reviewer’s description of the genre) Last Girl Dancing. Lisle shifts back and forth between her female and male leads, and does a respectable job on both. I liked Jess Brubaker, the aggressive workaholic cop who finds herself with a dirty, dangerous, and soon to be very personal assignment. Jess is beautiful, sexy, self-sufficient, but also broken, emotionally wounded. Thirteen years ago, her twin sister went missing while working as a stripper. Jess went into the police force to find Ginny, but she hasn’t been successful. Now she’s being asked to pose as an exotic dancer to track down a serial killer specializing in strippers.
I also liked Hank Kamian, the male lead. Hank, a martial arts instructor, is a former Ranger who sustained some serious wartime injuries. He also carries more than a few emotional scars, but he doesn’t piss and moan about things. Hank is a man’s man. Think Clint Eastwood circa High Plains Drifter, or Mel Gibson circa Road Warrior, before he got all flaky. Think Jake Barnes with functional equipment.
Hank’s a wee bit psychic: enough that he gets strong (and usually reliable) impressions from crime scenes, not so much that the story is over by page 20. Part of the fun here is watching Hank use his power to try to figure out Jess in the early phases of their relationship. A creep would use this knack to bed every woman in sight, but not Hank. He’s a good man — no, wait. He’s a Good Man, and it’s clear women readers are supposed to dig him.
Lisle does a great job setting and sustaining a creepy atmosphere. I didn’t care much for the mystery, but I’m not a big fan of police procedurals. (Full disclosure: I think I’ve read two or three in my life.) I read it for the romance, and enjoyed it as such. Romantic tension mounts steadily as Hank and Jess circle each other, trying their best to avoid the plunge. But, as the Borg say, resistance is futile. After they’ve hooked up, we have the added anxiety of (1) hoping Jess doesn’t get herself killed, and (2) hoping the murder investigation doesn’t trash their fragile relationship.
So: could I do this? According to what I’ve read over at Smart Bitches, there are a few men who write romance (under female pseudonyms, apparently). I wonder how their work differs from that of their female counterparts. And are they all gay?
I thought of a more interesting question, but I’m going to preface it with an observation. Men crave love and affection every bit as much as women. Why, then, is there no male counterpart to the romance genre? In other words: male protag seeks and ultimately finds love, aimed at a male readership. Women would read it. But how would you get men to read it, too?
. . . Without putting lots of sex in it, cuz that would be cheating.
D.
*One each, naturally, to keep the grand old dames of the RWA well plastered with frigid rictuses.
Mark Tiedemann collection reviewed on Tangent
Other Ways: Three Tales from the Secant, by Mark Tiedemann
Excellent trio of short stories from veteran SF author Mark W. Tiedemann. I’d never read Tiedemann before reviewing this collection, and I was delighted to make his acquaintance. Tiedemann has a keen sense of drama and doesn’t shrink from (or oversimplify) the thorny issues.
D.
The Third Alternative #42
“Dying in the Arms of Jean Harlow (The Coming of the Autoscopes)†by Paul Meloy
“The Word ‘Mermaid’ Written on an Index Card†by Douglas Lain
“The Vegetable Lamb†by Matthew Francis
“House of the Rising Sun†by Elizabeth Bear
“Lago di Iniquità †by Darren Speegle
“Reality Interrupted†by Jason Erik Lundberg
D.
Review: City Slab, Volume 2, Issue 2
Editor Dave Lindschmidt serves up some fresh meat on the Slab. Six good stories, some real gems among them. Check it out at Tangent Online.
D.