2013

Quote

New Year

I drop the dying year behind me like a shawl
and let it fall. The urgent fireworks fling themselves
against the night, flowers of desire, love’s fervency.
Out of the space around me, standing here, I shape
your absent body against mine. You touch me as the giving air.

Most far, most near, your arms are darkness, holding me,
so I lean back, lip-read the heavens talking on in light,
syllabic stars. I see, at last, they pray at us. Your breath
is midnight’s, living, on my skin, across the miles between us,
fields and motorways and towns, the million lit-up little homes.

This love we have, grief in reverse, full rhyme, wrong place,
wrong time, sweet work for hands, the heart’s vocation, flares
to guide the new year in, the days and nights far out upon the sky’s
dark sea. Your mouth is snow on my lips, cool, intimate, first kiss,
a vow. Time falls and falls through endless space, to when we are.

Carol Ann Duffy, in Rapture

Quoted by Growing Orbits, h/t @tsbazelli.

Maybe next New Year’s my boyfriend will be in the same state as me.  ::wistful sigh::

Moving Hosts

(Not about symbiosis, sad to say.  Or maybe it is.)

In an effort to run less software myself, and having decided that WordPress was the right way to go for this blog, I have moved from a self-hosted WordPress instance onto WordPress.com.  (A hundred bucks a year was a small price to pay to not have to be personally responsible for taking updates every time someone finds a security hole in WordPress, which is sadly often, and it will cut down on the amount of time I spend spam-whacking too.)  All of the content should still be here, and all the links will hopefully continue to work.

Let me know if anything does break in the comments or at kellan.sparver@gmail.com.

Fake Christmas Tree

From Ursula Vernon:

xmastreedino

Bob the hamster was pleased with his new Christmas tree. It didn’t drop needles, it wasn’t a fire hazard, and it didn’t look fake like all those cheap plastic ones.

It did wander off occasionally, but it always came back when he filled the food dish.

I am feeling in a surprisingly Christmassy mood, so I thought I’d do this. Merry Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, and if you’d like to duplicate the image on your blog, feel free!

This made me smile, and I hope it brightens your day too.

What I’m Reading, Queer SF Anthologies Edition

“Room 506,” he said, as he stood up.  “And if you’re not there by nine, we’re starting without you.”

Given that I’m interested in representations of bisexuality in literature, especially SF literature, I was interested in  Scheherazade’s Facade, edited by Michael M. Jones, a collection of “stories of those willing to blur or transcend the traditional gender roles.”

Although publisher Circlet Press is most well-known for their SF and fantasy erotica, this is their first release on their new Gressive Press imprint, which “publishes sex-positive science fiction/fantasy outside the binary, which celebrates genderqueer, genderbent, transgender, polygender, bisexual, bigendered, and other identities outside the boxes set by mainstream understandings of gender and sexuality.”  Which is to say that, while these are often very sexy stories, they’re not erotic stories per se.

It’s a really refreshing anthology for me.  I didn’t like everything in it, and nothing blew me away, but nothing bored me either, and that’s really saying something.  A few of the stories, bless their hearts, bothered me but provocatively, and I’d much rather something fail provocatively than mundanely.

Stories I found of special mention: “The Daemons of Tairdean Town”, by C.S. MacCath, which has both the most sympathetic portrayal of genuinely religious people I’ve ever seen in SF and the most telling subversion of religion.  “Kambal Kulam”, by Paolo Chikiamco, for being pure crack-fic.  “Keeping the World on Course”, by Tanith Lee, for the symmetry of it.  “Going Dark”, by Lyn C.A. Gardner, for being genuinely all of cool, sympathetic, and creepy.  “The Cloak of Isis”, by Sunny Moraine, for the sheer beauty of its writing.  “How to Dance While Drowning”, by Shanna Germaine, for creepiness.  “Treasure and Maidens”, by Sarah Rees Brennan, for identification right up until the last page or two.  And “Lady Marmalade’s Special Place in Hell”, by David Sklar, for sheer exuberance.

A lot of these stories are still working out the usual narratives of queer stories — the closet, coming out, transitioning, social opprobrium, unsupportive parents, and at least one AIDS story.  While a lot of us are still wrestling with those things, I want to see stories too which take queer relationships as fact and try to figure out what’s beyond the usual narratives, because that is, for the lucky among us, increasingly part of our reality as well.  (Queer people who are watching their culture fragment as it gains mainstream acceptance can commiserate with SF fans who are watching their culture fragment as it gains mainstream acceptance, and vice versa.)

Even if it doesn’t go as far as I would like, it’s an excellent and provocative anthology.  Highly worthwhile.

List of Gay Male SF Writers

Limited to published authors.  Presented as a public service, in no particular order.

  • Arthur C. Clarke (added 2013-11-6; how did I forget?)
  • Samuel R. Delany
  • Hal Duncan
  • Thomas M. Disch
  • Rahul Kanakia
  • David Gerrold
  • Geoff Ryman
  • Steve Berman
  • Clive Barker (added 2012-12-12)
  • Richard Bowes (added 2012-12-12)
  • Gregory Maguire (added 2012-12-26)
  • Kyle Aisteach (added 2013-12-26)
  • David Gerrold (added 2013-12-27)

Not pictured: Alberto Yáñez, Aleksandr Voinov (bisexual)

That’s… seven nine ten eleven thirteen.  Who am I forgetting?  (The SFWA member directory lists 1747 members.)

(Thanks to Bogi TakácsCharles A. Tan, et al.)

Why I Write

Scott Lynch responds to a critic who accuses him of political correctness (emphasis mine):

What you’re really complaining about isn’t the fact that my fiction violates some objective “reality,” but rather that it impinges upon your sad, dull little conception of how the world works. I’m not beholden to the confirmation of your prejudices; to be perfectly frank, the prospect of confining the female characters in my story to placid, helpless secondary places in the narrative is so goddamn boring that I would rather not write at all. I’m not writing history, I’m writing speculative fiction. Nobody’s going to force you to buy it. Conversely, you’re cracked if you think you can persuade me not to write about what amuses and excites me in deference to your vision, because your vision fucking sucks.

What I’m Reading, Canadian Graphic Novelists Edition

I can’t remember when I first encountered Marian Churchland‘s work — I think a friend maybe linked me to her posts about The Crossing, an unimplemented MMORPG idea she sketched out (quite literally) in a series of posts on her blog?  Her writing and drawing and sartorial sense appealed to me, so I started following her, and when I found out, months later, that she had written a graphic novel, I knew I wanted to read it.  (Artists, bad at self-promotion what?)

Beast is a retelling of the “Beauty and the Beast” story, of course, but our Beauty is a cranky down-on-her-luck sculptor and our Beast is an enigmatic centuries-old man who seems to be made out of swirling shadows.  It’s also about the relationship between artist and patron, artist and muse, and the question of what the artist will sacrifice for her art.

The story is gorgeously told — all fluid linework in her distinctive understated style, and the book uses the color of that linework to indicate time of day in a way that I found effective and subtle.  (If I ever finish…  but I get ahead of myself.)

I identified a lot with the main character’s habits, which the author depicts with loving (and I presume somewhat autobiographical) care — boiling water in a kettle on the stove, leaving cups of tea to cool in odd places and forgetting them, working mostly at night, making and needing few connections with other people.  An ascetic, obsessive lifestyle; one that I fall into sometimes when I don’t have other things to pull me out.  One that I miss, sometimes.

I loved how the story grounded its fantastic in the mundane, how it neither questioned the fantasy nor bothered to explain it.  It didn’t need to.  Each heightened the effect of the other.

It’s a book I want to come back to in a week, a month, a year, to see how it changes, the more I write.  To see if it grows on me.

(Amazon)

Sriracha Squash Soup

I didn’t think to take a picture before most of it was eaten already. Oops?  It looks like squash soup always looks.

Here in New England, fall is getting its coat and hat preparing to go, and winter is standing on the doorstep looking expectantly — and a little creepily — through the glass waiting to come in, so our meal planning turns to hot and filling foods in an attempt to make everyone comfortable.  This is something I cooked up a few days ago in that vein.  It’s also an antidote to what I consider the too-sweet trend in squash soups.

Purchase a small kambocha squash (also called buttercup squash).  Other squash varieties will also work, but kambocha is what I used.  Its floury texture and deep flavor make for good soups, I’ve found.

Take a quart of any flavorful and preferably high-fat stock, and put it in a medium pot on the stove to heat up.  (I used a pint of beef marrow stock I had left over, thinned 1:1 out to a quart with plain water.  I’m currently working through a former housemate’s meat CSA stockpile, so I have somewhat odd leftovers.)

Cut open the squash, scoop out the seeds, and begin peeling and dicing it.  When you have half of the squash diced, put it in the now-simmering stock.  Turn up the heat a little to compensate for the increased thermal mass.  Wonder if the pot is big enough for the whole squash, and pour everything into a bigger pot if necessary.  Be thankful you didn’t buy a larger squash.  (Or you can put only half of the squash in, which is possibly what I should have done, but I was already trying to solve a nacho problem with the stock and didn’t want a half squash lying around.  So — excelsior!)

You could cook the squash in the oven ahead of time, but I find that takes far longer, and means I often burn my hands trying to peel it while still hot.  Simmering the squash is much faster and doesn’t affect the flavor as far as I can determine.

Be thankful you got a larger pot once the whole squash has been diced and added.  Hope there’s still enough space for the onion.  What onion?  The large onion you’re about to chop up and cook with a good tablespoon of olive oil in a small frying pan.  (Or you can sauté up a small onion plus some leek bits left over from the other thing you’re making simultaneously, which is what I did.)   Mince the last four cloves of garlic and cook them up too.  Wish you had a full head of garlic.  Possibly add some chili powder or smoked paprika to the oil.  Cook everything until the onion is translucent, then dump everything into the pot with the squash.

Cover and simmer the squash until it’s practically mush.

Take your immersion blender and blend it to a nice orange paste.  Thin it out with half a cup of milk, so it’s not quite so stiff.  (Seriously, a full squash in this comes out pasty and mounding.)

Add a half teaspoon of salt, or to taste.

Taste it.  Taste it again.  Wonder why the second taste is so much blander than the first.

In a fit of pique, add a tablespoon of sriracha sauce (or to taste).  Taste again.  Wonder why everything is gorgeous and wonderful.  Taste again.  Marvel at how everything is still gorgeous and wonderful.

Ladle yourself a bowl.  Eat.  Refrigerate the remaining portion.  Congratulate yourself on your culinary inventiveness.

Garnish with sour cream and chopped scallions if you like.

 

Failure modes:

The soup is too grainy after blending:  You didn’t cook the squash long enough.  Put the soup back on heat for a bit.

The squash particles precipitate out when the soup stands for a bit:  You didn’t use enough fat.  Add more fat, preferably somewhat saturated, in the form of heavy cream, butter, or lard.

Everything is still too bland after the sriracha:  Use better stock.  Use another onion or a larger onion.  Carmelize the onions.  Add more garlic.  Add more spices.  Add more sriracha.

You can’t taste the dried spices:  You added them dry into the soup rather than working them into the oil, didn’t you?  Add more, but work them into some good olive oil first over moderate heat.  (This was one of my failure modes.)

 

Seriously, I had not expected the sriracha to add anything but spice, but something about it brought out the flavor of the squash in a way I was really happy with.  The soup didn’t even end up that spicy by my standards, the spice just prevented my tastebuds from getting tired of the other flavors or something.  Clearly more investigation will be required.

In particular I want to try adding some scotch bonnet sauce my house has, which has a nice buttery flavor, to the next batch, but it has whole seeds in it so it will need to go in before the blending or followed by an additional blending step.

Fiction: “She meets an angel” (NSFW)

I continue to feel that the web site of a fiction writer should have, well, some fiction on it.

After coming back from Viable Paradise, I had occasion to dig through my (relatively small) pile of older work looking for things to submit.  I pulled this story out and, reading it, decided that it didn’t suck.  I couldn’t figure out where to submit it, though, so I offer it to you here.

This is an erotic short story (2200 words or so) I wrote building off the title, which came to me out of the ether at some point.  It has the distinction of being the first thing I ever wrote and finished for myself rather than a class, the first story I ever submitted anywhere, and the first (and so far only) story of mine to ever be short-listed.  It’s also, oddly enough, heterosexual.

Being erotica, this story is Not Safe For Work.  No trigger warnings, though.

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