It’s a new year. No resolutions or anything here, I’ve got a few things I hope to achieve in 2014 but I’m not going to turn this infrequent place into some sort of tool for measuring progress. One of my best successes for 2013 was with my weight, I lost 17 kg from my heaviest measure. Lack of warmth causes the body to use cheapest tadalafil energy to protect it’s internal organs and in extreme cases, men also experience premature ejaculation. Fibromyalgia (FM) is a functional somatic disorder characterized by the insidious onset of chronic, viagra properien widespread musculoskeletal pain. The pills enable successful intercourse with your partner. viagra tablets online Avoid taking viagra cipla india overdose; do not intake two different pills at a time. I’d like to manage another 17 kg in 2014. I’m not going to chart it here, but just so I have it somewhere, I’m starting 2014 at 96.3 kg. Done.
Sydney, launches, music, Iain Banks
“Cold and final, the imagination shuts down its fabled summer house…”
– Sylvia Plath
I’m writing somewhere between Sydney and Perth, and trying to make some sense from the a crazy 36-or so hours. Inflight entertainment by Florence and the Machine’s Lungs is nicely covering the sound emanating from the lungs of the baby in the seat in front of me, even though he/she/it is giving it a good go at screaming the plane down.
I’ve just finished reading Iain Banks final novel, The Quarry, and there’s a tear in my eye. Partly from the book, partly from the thought that this is it, there are no more words to come from Mr Banks. For the last 21 years his work has been a constant presence, a regular entertainment.
Way early yesterday morning I dragged myself out of bed, fed the cats, showered, fed the cats, and dragged myself onto a plane bound for Sydney. Started reading The Quarry, a bit slow starting, but solidly character-driven.
A highlight of the flight was listening to Ruby, by Archie Roach and Ruby Hunter. Awesome album, a bit jazz-inspired, powerful songs, great voices. I will be seeking out a copy when I get a moment. Ruby, you are missed.
Arrived, paid a taxi driver a decent chunk of cash to sit in lunchtime traffic, and checked into the weird hotel. Weird angles, the stairwells created a visual illusion of being ramped, and the lift was not rectangular. The weird hotel that held an extra $100 on my card in case of expenses, though the only thing in the room was $24 worth of water. Weird.
Made a couple of calls to see everything was going smoothly in preparation for the book launch. The excuse for the trip is, afterall, launching Patty Jansen’s wonderful science fiction thriller Ambassador at Galaxy Books (as well as topping up my frequent flyer status points to retain Gold, and to hang out with a bunch of favourite Sydney-siders). Bookshop casually asks if I was sending any paperbacks to the launch, and no, they haven’t arrived. I flagged this with the printer the day before and because of the flight eating my morning, hadn’t had a chance to follow up. Bookshop also lets me know that the address labels the printers use aren’t displaying all the right information. I vaguely recalled a similar situation a couple of years ago, and had naively assumed from the shit that hit the fan then things would be fixed. They weren’t.
Follow up with printer, it takes some work but manage to persuade them that they should follow up with couriers. By this stage the folks I’d planned to meet up with, Cat Sparks and Rivqa Rafael, are in the room and there’s nothing else that can be done. So we head to a nearby pub so I can eat lunch. Printer calls, courier has books at depot but won’t deliver them to the bookshop today. I’m welcome to go and pick them up. After working out that there isn’t really time for me to go out to their depot and get back, start ringing couriers to find someone to do a rush job. I’m on hold on my phone, Cat is on hold on hers. Cat eventually gets through and we’re told someone can do it and have books there by 6pm. Rivqa has found a convenient bottle shop so I can get some booze for the launch.
Get to launch on time, meet and greet and look around for books. Not yet. Get call from courier, books will be there close to 7pm. It’s a small crowd who don’t mind waiting, so we eat chocolate and drink sparkling wine. I walk up and down stairs a lot looking out for courier. Shop closes at 7pm, but there’s still a guy downstairs doing stuff so we can let the courier in when he arrives at 7.20.
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We launch, I’m in rock n roll mode probably from the nature of the trip and having walked past Red Eye Records on my way to the shop. And I’m wearing a Beatles shirt. I pay my respects to the Kadigal people of the Eora Nation. I talk about how we’re at something like the first Sex Pistols show in Manchester, where there’s a dozen in the crowd but years later hundreds will say they were there. I mean it, too, I love the book we’re launching and I’m not going to give a half-arse speech even if there’s a small crowd. I talk about the book, the incredible way it draws the reader into a truly wonderful alien world. I hope I’m not too boring and the crowd certainly aren’t looking too bored. Handover to Zena Shapter to launch the book and say many wonderful things about it. She also says Matt Damon a lot. Then Patty talks and reads, and the crowd are lapping it up. We sign and sell, and keep Alison the wonderful book chick up way past her bedtime but she puts up with us. Then we pretty much all head off to dinner, down weird secret alleys to a little Malay place that does a great job of delivering a street food atmosphere. I’m convinced it’s good when I walk in and see they serve whole fish on the bone. We order a wonderful variety of dishes, I go for butter prawns and coconut rice. Butter prawns aren’t butter chicken but prawns battered light and crunchy and seasoned with chilli and other yummy spices.
We all say goodnight and I drag myself back to the hotel, promising to be an early riser and catch up with Patty in the morning. And I am up early, at least on Perth time. My alarm clock was writing cheques that neither my body nor mind wished to cash. My plan of getting up and having a slow relaxing breakfast, maybe a little stroll, before checking out and meeting Patty didn’t happen. But we did meet, and had a yummy bacon and spinach scrambled eggs while plotting world domination, so all was good. I’ve also got a bit of a crick in my neck/shoulderblades, probably a mix of stress and unusual bed/pillows.
Next stop was back to the aforementioned Red Eye Records, where I found a haul of CDs I had been looking a long time for. Kirsty MacColl’s first album finally on CD, not sure why I didn’t see this in London a few weeks ago but getting this at last was worth the trip. Tiddas Inside My Kitchen EP, another on my wish list. Two CDs by Severed Heads, Shattered (featuring “Dead Eyes Open” and a 2 cd collection (also featuring “Dead Eyes Open”). A box set of the first 5 Ramones albums. The complete recordings by The Eastern Dark. A live record by Husker Du. Christine Anu’s first album. Volume 2 of the Australian Underground series (covering 1978-1990, also featuring “Dead Eyes Open” – that’s 3 if you’re keeping score at home). And Bitch Epic by Deborah Conway. A bunch of glaring gaps can be considered plugged.
I could have spent a bucket more at Red Eye, on Died Pretty rarities, Archie Roach, The Hard-Ons, Tall Tales and True, Husker Du (my collection is woefully lacking), Texas, a size 4 The Pixies kid’s t-shirt, Snog (that Throssell chap must put out an album every month), Coldplay (not really, just checking to see if anyone was still reading),
Unfortunately they didn’t have Ruby (see above), but overall I was a kid in a candy store.
It seems that indie music is associated with kindness and wanting to change the world, as my Red Eye shopping bag seemed to attract every charity collector: the Wilderness Society, RSPCA, Wesley Mission.
Then it was the airport train, cheaper than a taxi by a long way but a bit of a stroll to get to the platform – does anyone like Central Station? Then the sanctuary of the Virgin Lounge, with the very helpful Ian arranging me onto an earlier flight, and I even scored an empty seat next to me.
The screaming baby in the seat in front can go from full-on Jimmy Barnes to cutely smiling in the blink of an eye – possibly an evolutionary survival mechanism kicking in.
Listening to The Jezabels’ Prisoner, I like it but not sure I love it. Might need multiple listens, great vocals but the songs are a little formulaic, at least that’s my impression half a dozen tracks in. I’m getting fussy in my old age, while they’ve obviously got their sound going on this album, I expect two sounds on an album these days, at least a bit of a mix of pace or feel or something. It’s why I like Lungs better than Ceremonials, and spent some time discussing this last night over dinner. “Rosebud” seems to be coming from a slightly different place, but that place is Pat Benatar. I think what’s bugging me is the distant rhythm guitar sound that blends with keyboards, it’s like there’s a sound gap between the vocals and the guitars that the bass and drums aren’t filling. Kind of like Simple Minds around Once Upon A Time but without a thumping stadium-grade bass-line/rhythm section to fill the songs out. I think these songs would be great live.
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The PNG Decision
As a human being I am not happy with this decision — it’s not about left or right, it’s about remembering that this issue is about people. Asylum seekers have a human right to seek refuge and freedom from persecution, a human right to live their lives without the fear of death. Will they find that in PNG, I do not know.
These are people, not political footballs, and Australia should be able to be a safe haven for them. Australia certainly doesn’t seem to be going out of its way to send back its true illegal immigrants, all those English and Irish boys who stay way past their expired visas.
It’s an issue that sadly Australia has never dealt with in a mature and proud manner. Whether it was clubbing Chinese immigrants to death in their beds in the 1860s, to Federation where a strong catalyst was being able to decide who we let in, to the White Australia policy that inspired apartheid and racist massacres in South Africa, to the current day, where our land of plenty is suddenly full of cars bearing stickers saying “Fuck Off We’re Full”.
It’s not about right or left, right or wrong, or us or them. It’s about fellow human beings who choose to leave their own country behind out of fear of death, wanting to find a place where they can live and possibly build a family in peace and safety.
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Will it change the way I vote, no.
Not when the other option stands for elitism, economic mismanagement, anti-public health, anti-environment, anti-small business, anti-equality (of gender, sexuality, ability, race, religion), anti-science, and anti-truth.
I am disappointed, both in the ALP for taking this stance and for the loud bigots who have made a stance like this a popular choice. But I can only change the world one idiot at a time, so am, in the vernacular, “sucking it up princess”, at least for now.
An attempt at clarity
(or why I don’t want to join any writer associations)
I’m not a writer. I like to think that I’m a bit of a jack of all trades (or dilettante, if you don’t mind) when it comes to literary things — publisher, editor, graphic designer, critic, bookseller — but knowing what writers do and what it takes to do it, I’m not one of them.
So, not only do I not qualify for most writer associations, I’m not aiming to qualify, and to therefore join would make me an imposter, at least in my own mind.
And sure, some associations do let editors in, too, and I wear that hat, but …
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I’m a publisher. I wear that hat. And while writers and publishers aren’t natural enemies, there will come occasions where they naturally find themselves on opposite sides of the table. That’s just how the game works.
And when that happens, no writer association should be on my side. That ain’t what they are there for. And I think writers need to know that, they need to know that their association is behind them 100%, not trying to straddle the fence between two members.
I believe in supporting writers, advocating for them and their work, making sure they get the best deal possible and most importantly getting paid. I hope my actions over time have demonstrated this.
An Open Letter to a Discriminatory MP
To Luke Simpkins, Liberal Party, Member for Cowan, luke.simpkins.mp@aph.gov.au
20 June 2013
Dear Luke Xavier Linton Simpkins
I would like to know why you are a member of a political party that does not support equality for all Australians, a party that openly promotes discrimination against Australians.
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Because if I was in your position, I would be unable to look at myself in the mirror.
Yours sincerely
Russell Farr
Greenwood, Western Australia
12 Songs, 14 June 2013
Today, a list of 12 songs I think you all should hear. These aren’t necessarily my favourite songs, nor by my favourite artists, and because I’m going to make this list up as I go I can’t even tell you if the songs have anything in common, at least not until I get to the end. And because I don’t really think any of these songs are in any way needing to be ranked, I’ve used a random list generator from http://www.random.org to help.
I’ve picked songs that I hear often from my personal playlist, but maybe you’re not familiar with. It’s all about discovery.
7. “My Mother The War”, 10,000 Maniacs, The Wishing Chair
1. “Prayer for You”, Texas, Southside
12. “Dream by Dream”, The Chills, Kaleidoscope World (CD)
8. “Fantastic Tear”, Clouds, Penny Century
10. “Olympia, WA”, Rancid, … And Out Come The Wolves
6. “Uncle Phranc”, Team Dresch, Captain My Captain
5. “It Goes A Long Way”, Falling Joys, Aerial
2. “Falling Inside”, George, Other Songs
9. “Inanay”, Tiddas, Sing About Life
11. “Chartered Trips”, Husker Du, Zen Arcade
3. “Extraordinary”, Liz Phair, Liz Phair
4. “Solid Wood”, Alison Moyet, Singles
Go, listen, set your ears free.
Commentary (may contain hyperbole)
7. “My Mother The War”, 10,000 Maniacs, The Wishing Chair
When I listen to this, not only do I get Natalie Merchant’s wonderful vocals, but the whole song has a discordant ring to it. It’s different, quite different, and some days I think it’s this track more than any other that saves the 1980s from being a dull musical decade.
1. “Prayer for You”, Texas, Southside
Over weight men are more vulnerable to ED. online cialis soft Parent taught drivers are more likely generic viagra from canada to have obtained a host of other physical health problems contributing to their sexual performance problems. This perception may not necessary be about who you are or what your background you can rest assured that there will never be shortage of people trying cheap pill viagra to save money while buying medicines. sildenafil best price The most extreme proposed dosage is 100 mg and it is important to note it when you see it. Again, a great voice, and you’d never know that Sharlene Spiteri is Scottish. A stripped back song with a ring of honesty about it.
12. “Dream by Dream”, The Chills, Kaleidoscope World (CD)
A guaranteed WTF moment whenever I hear it. The timing is wrong, I can’t tap my foot to it, but it’s so right too. Score 1 New Zealand. “Goodnight Martin.”
8. “Fantastic Tear”, Clouds, Penny Century
Another half point to NZ. Awesome vocal work by Jodi Phillis, and great harmony by Trish Young. Power pop at it’s most powerful, cuts through all traffic noise.
10. “Olympia, WA”, Rancid, … And Out Come The Wolves
Rocking road song.
6. “Uncle Phranc”, Team Dresch, Captain My Captain
Too honest, too hardcore, too discordant, Donna Dresch was the Patti Smith of the 90s. I was overjoyed to pick up a copy of this CD in a second hand store in Wellington.
5. “It Goes A Long Way”, Falling Joys, Aerial
One solid point for Australia. Suzie Higgie is a great, melodic storyteller. To use the old chestnut (are there ever any new chestnuts), I’d listen to Suzie Higgie sing the phone book. The older I get, the more I like the Falling Joys rather underrated third album.
2. “Falling Inside”, George, Other Songs
Again, Australia. More great voice, this time from Katie Noonan. More discord, maybe that’s what this list is all about, songs that sound wrong yet so right. Who knows? (it it was all about Dischord where’s the Fugazi?)
9. “Inanay”, Tiddas, Sing About Life
Sweet sweet, and about as Australian as you get. I don’t understand a word of this song but sing along all the time and love it.
11. “Chartered Trips”, Husker Du, Zen Arcade
Power fuzz, Bob Mould, a great throbbing driving song.
3. “Extraordinary”, Liz Phair, Liz Phair
Great lyrics — “average everyday sane psycho supergoddess”.
4. “Solid Wood”, Alison Moyet, Singles
Voice.
The Girl With No Hands and other tales by Angela Slatter
Ask anyone: I don’t play favourites among the Ticonderoga books. They are all my children (and Liz Grzyb’s too!) and I love them all equally.
But tonight I love Angela Slatter’s collection The Girl With No Hands and other tales the most, just by a little.
Not for the 16 incredible tales it contains. Not because it was our first ever Publishers Weekly review (and a mighty positive one it was, too). Not for the pleasure of working with Angela Slatter. Not for the incredible design work from Lisa L. Hannett on the cover. Not for the Aurealis Award it won. Not for the great story of rejecting “The February Dragon” I’ve walked away with.
For the memories that came flooding back tonight.
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I ended up reading parts of the book to mum one day. It was just the two of us, and mum was passed the stage of being able to talk, but she could still hear. So I read to her, “The Bone Mother” and “The Girl With No Hands” (I also read Jane Routley’s “Bats” from Dead Red Heart).
Tonight, reformatting The Girl With No Hands and other tales for additional ebooking, flicking through the stories, it all came flooding back. Sitting there, reading to mum, just like she would have read to me when I was young.
It’s an incredible book, a powerful book, and a book that for more ways than one I will carry inside me for the rest of my life.
Ongoing discussion
I was in two minds about whether to speak up and say something, but hearing this morning of another incident where a migrant was subject to a racist tirade has helped make up my mind.
I have to speak up.
I’ve read a lot of brouhaha recently regarding a column by Mike Resnick and Barry N. Malzberg in the SFWA Bulletin. I’m not specifically going to comment on exactly what they said: I’m not an SFWA member, nor eligible to be one, nor aspire to be one, so I’m not going to tell a private membership organisation what they can and can’t put into a journal I don’t have a legitimate desire to access.
I’ve read some of the online discussion of this article.
One, by Foz Meadows, irked me a little when Foz said,
“two old white guys in their seventies who I’ve never heard of before”
and I think this cuts to the heart of one of the issues.
I’ve read all of this stuff, but what I haven’t read is anyone trying to have a reasoned, mutually-respecting conversation with Resnick and Malzberg about why they do not agree with the sentiments they viewed.
I have seen a response that I believe would make a large amount of people defensive if it was directed at them, and in light of this I can understand the very defensive, circling the wagons tone of the second SFWA piece.
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So while those challenging Resnick and Malzberg may have a valid argument, I feel that the messages being conveyed aren’t the most conducive for mutually respectful dialogue on the issue.
Respect.
While I doubt that I agree with everything that Mike Resnick and Barry N. Malzberg say and believe, I respect their contribution to SF, the genre I love. I respect their work, I must have first read their stories over 20 years ago. I respect their achievements.
Respect.
ADDITION: All comments welcome, however house rules are that every commenter should be willing to put their name to what they say.
—
Disclaimer: Barry N. Malzberg wrote the introduction to Invisible Kingdoms at the request of the late Steven Utley. Mike Resnick will be writing the introduction to the forthcoming Bittersuite collection at the request of author Lezli Robyn. Both titles published by Ticonderoga Publications.
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