Book Signings and Jackasses

Posted on March 11, 2011 by Arizela

Last night, I did something a bit outside my comfort zone. I tend to avoid fancons, conventions, and author outings. Not that I mind crowds, or even that I am intimidated by authors. It’s more a matter of always having to go by myself that kind of sucks. I mean, is it really worth it to drive 45 miles through sleet and snow to listen to someone talk for an hour and then stand in line for nobody knows how long to have someone scrawl a barely legible signature on a page in a book that I’d have enjoyed just as much without all that?

I don’t know about all signings, or even most signings, but last night, the answer to that question was an unequivocal YES!

Patrick Rothfuss, author of Name of the Wind and the new release The Wise Man’s Fear, did a signing near Dayton, Ohio last night, and it was worth the drive, the weather, the wait, and the crowds. Yes, there were crowds.

Notice the faces peering over top of the book shelves in the back. There were also people trailing down the winding staircases on either side, stuffed 4-folks deep in the standing room only area where I was taking pics from, and tucked in among the shelves with no view of the speaker.

 

 

 

 

These were taken from my vantage point, behind another shelf of books. I only arrived 30 minutes early and the place was already packed. I got ticket #149 for the signing line, by the way. I talked to a couple of guys who had tickets well into the 200’s. I’d estimate there were about 300 people there in total, if not more.

And here’s Pat himself:

He allowed photos to be taken with him during the signing, but I skipped that, because 150 people deep at after 10pm, the man looked pretty tired and was conjuring up some rather odd expressions in lieu of a smile.

I bought two copies of The Wise Man’s Fear on-site (which in retrospect was a mistake, given that the Books & Co people wouldn’t give you a ticket for the signing line until you had books in hand, and people who showed up with pre-purchased books got to stack 30 deep in the line ahead of me from where I’d have been if I’d brought books from outside the store instead of having to stand in the check out line. Had one just signed, because it was for me and I know who I am. The other to a dear friend of mine in a land far, far away. There was time between the speaking portion and when the line got around to me that I went next door and ate dinner, and still had nearly an hour to work on my own novel while waiting for my number to be called.

The speaking portion of the evening was phenomenal, hilarious, and worth the sore feet and the cramp in my neck from peering around the humor section sign. The people in the crowd were friendly, bright eyed, and not overly talkative/touchy/invading-spacey. I learned a few tidbits about writing, a few more about telling stories, and four very important lessons:

  1. I will never be as cool as Pat.
  2. Babies get to cut in the line, which is great for everybody in the long run when there aren’t any tired, hungry, cranky babies screaming 2 hours into the signing.
  3. No matter how many NO SPOILER warnings you give a crowd that size, someone will be a jackass.
  4. Pat will call the major spoiler a “Jackass” in front of 300 people. I think that guy melted away in shame afterwards, cause I didn’t see his rather pretentious beret again the whole night.

Pat’s blog can be found at http://blog.patrickrothfuss.com/ and is well worth the read. Unfortunately, it is one of those that screws the hell out of RSS feed readers, so I don’t hit it up as often as I’d like to. My OCD thing coming into play again, there. Can’t stand everything-behind-the-cut stuff in my feed reader.

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Food Culture

Posted on March 8, 2011 by Arizela

An enormously popular author (John Scalzi) recently mentioned almost putting down a book he ended up loving (Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss) because the characters ate stew. Stew… the well-trodden staple of every generic fantasy diet. Stew is as time-honored, and frankly tired, as any trope in the genre.

So what’s the big deal? Food isn’t all that important, right?

I can’t imagine giving up on a well written book because of a bit of stew. But it does sort of illustrate a point about careful world building, doesn’t it? Don’t get me wrong – this isn’t at all an indictment of Mr. Rothfuss, whose work I enjoyed a lot and whose world building is stellar (in every other regard but the stew, according to John Scalzi).

I’ve just always been interested in the cultural implications of something so ingrained and so often ignored by writers who build otherwise fantastic and realistic worlds. Below are a few of the things I note when deciding what to put on the table in my tales:

  • What type of foods are available in the climate?  Particularly in pre-industrial landscapes or in places that are relatively isolated from the larger world, more exotic foods that won’t grow or that can’t be raised in the climate may be rare and precious (or nonexistent)
  • What cultural prejudice exists about certain foods? Americans typically turn their noses up at edible insects, but there are cultures where bugs are as much as staple as the tortilla in Mexico.
  • What cooking methods are available, and how does that affect what foods can and can’t be eaten? A culture that uses only open fire cooking will be much more limited than one that has stone ovens.
  • Are there any cultural or religious practices around food preparation, serving, or eating? In some cultures, food may only be eaten with a particular hand (left or right). Bathing, foot-bath, and hand washing rituals around food service are not uncommon. Religious blessing of the food, and even treatment of the meal prior to preparation (as in Jewish Kosher) may affect things as basic as taste, quality, and rate of spoilage
  • How is food stored? Cultures that lack cold food storage are much more likely to use drying, pickling, salt-brining, and smoking to preserve meats, vegetables, and fruits. The hotter and wetter the environment, the quicker food goes bad.
  • How does the socio-economic status of the character change what they eat? You wouldn’t expect to see the same meal put before beggars and kings. The same thing goes for men and women in some cultures, children and adults, monks and knights and farmers. You get the idea.
  • Are pregnant or injured/ill people fed differently than others? In some cultures, it is taboo for pregnant women to consume milk. In others, sick people must not touch food that is cold (or hot, or bland, or spicy). Cultural practices around serving food to pregnant and/or ill individuals run the spectrum.
  • Are there any taboos about food in the culture? One of the best treatments of this I’ve seen in the fantasy realm, believe it or not, comes from a book by Terry Goodkind, Wizard’s First Rule. Red fruit is poisonous in the Midlands due to some lingering effects of magical warfare, and offering someone a red fruit is considered a death threat. So when Richard from Westland, where red fruit is still normal, innocently offers a Midlander an apple, culture shock ensues.
  • What are the dietary requirements for non-human creatures/persons? Do elves eat meat? Are the Iglidites allergic to avocado? Can your centaurs eat only flowers and fruit flies? More importantly, do these dietary needs and restrictions pose problems for your non-human characters when they interact with other species or cultures? For this one, keep in mind the conservation of matter. A 300lb centaur who only eats low-nutrient flowers is going to be spending the better part of his life shoveling food into his mouth, and populations might be low because of the relative difficulty in obtaining the right foods.

Just a few things to consider the next time your character picks up a spoon (or fork or chop sticks or cloven dragon hoof utensil).

—

What’s the strangest thing your characters have slurped down?

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My Sister, My Aunt, My Friend

Posted on March 5, 2011 by Arizela

As you may have heard if you read this blog regularly, I recently lost my sister Kate after a grave, unexpected illness.

I call her my sister because that’s what she called me. She insisted to everyone she met in her last couple of weeks on earth that I was her sister. She introduced my husband to people as her brother-in-law. On the family tree, she’s listed as my mother’s sister, but families are messy and I spent nearly as much (if not more) time with Kate’s parents as I did in my mother’s less than tender care. Our relationship was about as clear as mud to most people, but it worked for us.

I gave a eulogy at Kate’s memorial service, and it was through writing that eulogy that I came to realize just how much she had taught me through my childhood. I learned at her knee everything from how to peel potatoes to how to look innocent when I was being just a little naughty. The last month, watching her go through a tragic, horrifying experience in the ICU with multiple system organ failure, I learned a few more lessons. A few very, very important lessons:

  1. Make your end of life wishes known. Kate did, and because of that she had the gentle passing she wanted, surrounded by her family and friends. I am in awe of her courage, in that even though she did not want to die, she never once, not even once, went back on her often stated wish that she never be placed on a ventilator.
  2. Even if your wishes are known, appoint an advocate who will follow them. The attending doctor on my sister’s case actually talked her next of kin into revoking the no-intubation order and DNR momentarily (while that person was exhausted, emotionally fragile, and without adequate support). He did that willfully and with the knowledge that Kate’s well-known wishes would be violated. He did it with the false promise of “just a few days” when in reality a few days of being on a ventilator would not have changed her situation except for to extend her pain and suffering. This momentary lapse cost our entire family immeasurable pain as we tried to advocate for Kate’s wishes and still be supportive of the one making them, who didn’t deserve that burden. Kate made that decision, long before her illness, and it was unfair of him to create that Sophie’s Choice for her kin.
  3. Know who your next of kin is. Legally for someone in Kate’s situation, the order is spouse, adult child (eldest to youngest), parent, adult siblings (eldest to youngest). Is that really the person you want making your decisions for you? Really? What about the second or third person on that list? If not, getting a health care power of attorney might save you a lot of grief some day. Kate’s next of kin was in debate most of her stay in the ICU, and the person who finally ended up with the responsibility wouldn’t even answer the phone most of the time.
  4. Make a will. Even if you have nothing of real value. Some of our long estranged relatives came out of the woodwork after Kate died and started throwing around talk of lawyers and law suits. She was the most generous woman I ever met, and because of that, she died owning little more than the clothes she wore and a few mementos. The legal threats were a clear power play intended to hurt the survivors and had nothing to do with the minimal material goods my sister accumulated during her lifetime. Even her cremation and burial were paid for by the generous donations of her friends and family members. Imagine what the situation would have looked like if she had owned a house, a car, a life insurance policy…
  5. Live every day as if it is the only one you get, but don’t forget to plan for the future. Kate often called people up out of the blue, just to tell them she loved them. You always knew where you stood with her, and for that I can only be thankful. But she also avoided doing the things that might have extended her life – proper medical care, self-care, and follow-through. Her medications were so out of whack when she was admitted to the hospital that they almost certainly contributed to her sudden downturn, and that could have been prevented just by getting her follow-up labs on time. She suffered from a fatalism that is so very common where we come from – what will be will be, they say – but that’s not always the case. You’re more likely to be hit by a bus playing in the street. When it came to her health, she played in the street, and while I genuinely believe she had no regrets, I regret that she was taken from us so soon.

My husband and I met with a lawyer today. With any luck, we’ve just wasted $375 dollars and about an hour of our time having wills, powers of attorney, and health care powers of attorney drawn up. We included very specific instructions in relation to our son, so that his future is never compromised by those (thankfully) estranged family members attempting to claim him to get at his inheritance. Yes, I believe they really would.

So I guess that I should thank my big sister, for teaching me a few last lessons that I knew in the back of my mind, but never really took to heart until her death brought them home.

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A Rose by Any Other Name

Posted on February 27, 2011 by Arizela

When we named our new puppy Tennant after David Tennant, 10th Dr. Who, I had a feeling he might some day end up with a companion. And what else are you going to name that companion but Rose Tyler (Rosie for short)? Behold, the newest addition to our little furry family

Rose is an 8 week old Chihuahua pup. I saw a picture of her this morning, doing a little research and called the breeder. Two hours of driving later, and she was mine.  Chihuahuas are fairly well known for not getting on with other breeds, so we’re going to go real slow with the introductions and socialize them together. With a lot of love and a little luck, they’ll be best buddies for the next 15 years or so.

Besides, what’s a Doctor without his trusty companion?

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The Birthday Curse

Posted on February 21, 2011 by Arizela

I joke about my birthday being cursed.

…

… well, mostly joke. On or within a week of my various birthdays, 34 of them now behind me, I have buried my grandfather, watched my house burn to ashes, suffered through the flu and several gall bladder attacks, been *this close* to being arrested due to someone else being drunk and disorderly in my company…

And that is not all. No, that is not all.

This year, though, has taken the literal birthday cake. On February 13, I lost my sister to a 10 day long struggle with multiple system organ failure. On February 16th, my son very nearly got thrown out of school after being attacked on the school bus by a known bully. On February 18th, my 18 week old puppy broke his right hind leg through the tibia. Here he is with his giant purple cast. He weighs 4.7lbs now.

On February 20th, the Cursed Day itself, I gave the first eulogy I ever had to write. And today my family is bandying about talk of lawyers and never speaking to each other again.

I am boycotting February from now on. FML.

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