Displaced in time?

It was lovely Saturday, so my wife, Cathy, my daughter, Brynne, and I decided to go for an excursion to Fort Langley (a small, heritage town with several antique and artisan stores). One of the antique stores we shopped in caused an interesting glitch in the day…

The store had two small rooms of furniture and assorted knickknacks and paraphernalia upstairs and two small rooms with more stuff downstairs. Cathy is a more thorough shopper than I am, and I descended the stairs before her. Brynne came down with me, and we slowly circled from one room to the next, back to the first, and then upstairs. Before we went up, we looked for Cathy, but couldn’t see her downstairs (Brynne said she’d seen her come down, so I assumed she was in the other downstairs room). When we got back upstairs, the proprietor asked if we’d seen the back room and the basement: I said, “Yes, but I seem to have lost my wife.” It was an off-the-cuff remark, and she gave an odd little laugh, but I didn’t think anything of it until later.

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Brynne and I roamed around the two upstairs rooms again, waiting for Cathy, but she didn’t appear and I decided I should look for her downstairs (we checked both rooms upstairs, but she wasn’t in either. There is only one passageway between rooms). Brynne stayed at the top of the stairs in case Cathy came by, and I quickly, but thoroughly, checked the two rooms below, but couldn’t see her.  When I came up and told Brynne I hadn’t seen her Mom, she gave me one of those ‘you’re kind of a useless old dude’ looks, and then she went down to look, but she couldn’t find Cathy either.

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Brynne’s cell phone was on, but she hadn’t gotten a message from her Mom. I turned my cell-phone on (both Brynne and Cathy have ‘smart’ phones; mine is definitely non-sentient, but folds into a small enough package to fit easily, and comfortably, in any pocket). There was no ‘missed call’ message on my phone. We searched methodically upstairs and decided that we should leave the store, but stand in front, on the sidewalk, and look around for her (perhaps she’d needed some fresh air). We couldn’t see her, so I flipped open my phone to call her, but Brynne saw her on a bench on the other side of the street. Cathy saw us then; she looked mad.

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Apparently, she had seen us go back up the stairs and followed us shortly afterward. She looked for us upstairs, but couldn’t find us. Then she went outside, to the sidewalk, and looked around. Then she went back into the store and searched for us; again, she couldn’t find us. She repeated her outside/inside search routine a couple more times, phoned us (more than once), and assumed we had left the store and weren’t answering our phones.

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We told her we hadn’t left the store until that moment, but at first I don’t think she believed us. Suddenly Brynne’s phone received messages from her Mom, and shortly after that I got a message as well.

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Cathy vows she will never go inside that store again: she thinks something sinister happened.  I think it was a fascinating experience (there were a few anxious moments, but it ended well).

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I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, but the store was not large, it hadn’t been crowded, and it should have been easy to locate each other very quickly (the building was not modern; only wooden materials, so I’m curious why there was no cell-phone service). Perhaps someone had been temporarily displaced in time…

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The Bottle Hunter

Yesterday, as I was sorting our household recycling into the complex’s blue-bins, a man strolled down the driveway. His brown boots were scuffed and the heels were worn crooked, and he was dressed in well-worn pants and a stained jacket. His bushy, ashen beard and scraggly hair made it difficult to determine age, but I’d guess he was over sixty.

He said something as he approached, but I didn’t make out what it was, and I said, “Pardon me?”

He smiled (or, I assumed he did: his eyes crinkled and his beard shifted upward) and said, “Good afternoon.”

I smiled and good-afternooned him back.

He started routing through the ‘mixed containers’ bin: I assume he was looking for returnable bottles (a fair number of people don’t return them to the bottle depot, so we have a few self-employed guys — like the gentleman beside me — that come around to set things right and make themselves a spare dollar or two).

I was about to go back inside, but the guy looked over at me and said, “How was your day?”

“To be honest,” I told him, “it wasn’t the best.” I stretched my sore back, rolled my shoulders and said, “Some days are better than others.”

“Can’t say I agree,” he said. “Every day’s pretty much perfect, just the way it is. I make sure I maintain a good posture, keep my body nimble with plenty of movement, and face life with peace and equanimity. Works wonders.”

I looked at him, said, “Take care,” and then I turned and walked into the building.

Just before I’d turned to walk away his eyes had crinkled and glinted, his beard had shifted upward, and he had  given his head a little nod. I can’t get his face out of my mind.

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The Einstein Intersection, a book review

Will our stories outlive us; and, if so, how will we be perceived when they are found?

Below is a short review of Samuel R. Delany’s The Einstein Intersection (1967); I’ve posted a more thorough review at Retrospeculative.

I think in this short novel, Delany is showing off (or he was a heck of a lot smarter than I was at the tender age of twenty-three), but if the reader can struggle through the confusing patches, there are delights to be had. Delany is definitely not for everyone, but there is some wonderfully lyrical writing, and the novel is quite satisfying if you’re able to immerse yourself in his world-vision. It amazes me that Delany was published in a pulp fiction market. His working title for the book was A Fabulous, Formless Darkness (from a William Butler Yeats work he’d quoted), but it was ‘re-worked’ by the publisher, Ace Books (of  garish covers and low-priced packaging fame). Ace‘s main audience was teenage boys who wanted formulaic plots with the usual science fiction stereotypes. Delany employed the stereotypes, but twisted them into unusual perspectives. Even though he set his stories far in the future, they were designed to describe the world as it was.

The novel takes place on Earth; however, it is set tens-of-thousands of years into the future: myths run rampant and are only partially explained at the crossroads of logic and irrationality (with tongue firmly planted in cheek, I’d suggest searching at the corner of Einstein Street and Gödel Avenue). Two of the major themes are travel, through space,  time, and thought, as echoed in Delany’s travels through the Mediterranean, Spain, and Greece (which he relates in between-chapter notes), and difference from the ‘norm’, as demonstrated by the mutating aliens, who are attempting to maintain a sense of conformity while sifting through the gossamer memories of a sentient species — humanity — that has vanished.

The reader is immersed in the alien’s milieu, just as the aliens are immersed in the quagmire of humanity’s psychic memories. Within the body of the novel, Delany has included some travel-notes, which he wrote while wandering through foreign lands, creating the novel. At one point [p.119], he writes: “…perhaps on rewriting I shall change Kid Death’s hair from black to red.”  But the reader has already encountered the character, and his hair is red, which demonstrates Delany’s interest in time, events in time, and awareness; what has been, what might have been, and what is. And he has also set up a conscious association between the author, the reader, and the words on the page (something he does to a dizzying degree in Dhalgren). At another point [p. 65], Delany implicitly states that “…the central subject of the book is myth.”

It is a book full of myth and peppered with confusion; nevertheless, if you enjoy a story that requires some cobbling together and leaves you thinking after you finish, I highly recommend it; along with Dhalgren, Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand, and the Return to Nevèrÿon series, it displays Delany at his mythical best.

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Young Angels

I just saw this story in the news, and I thought I’d share…

There was a fire in an Edmonton subdivision (Lewis Estates, near 213^th Street and 88^th Avenue) in which three homes were destroyed and two others damaged, with total costs around a million dollars.

picture from the Global News story

Some enterprising neighbourhood children decided to help out by setting up an iced tea stand and donating proceeds to those affected by the fire. It’s been reported that after two nights of sales they’ve raised $1,700 dollars. Their goal is $17,000, and they plan to continue until their goal is met. The price is ‘by donation’ and I’ve heard that it’s not unusual to garner $20 per cup.

The idea was initiated by a young girl, Alexis Morrow, but the entire neighbourhood’s children seem to have taken to the cause; they are out in force, displaying signs, chanting: “Help the homes! Help the homes!”

Yesterday evening, one of the homeowners, Brian Logan (whose house was essentially ruined), was so touched that he visited the iced tea stand to express his thanks. “When I heard about what you guys were doing today,” he told the children, with tears in his eyes, “it made me feel so good. You’re such wonderful, wonderful children. I could try and hug you all, but that’s a lot of you.” He paused, and then added: “They’re angels, they’re absolute angels.”

What a nice story: it brightened up my day.

For more information: Global News Story

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Among Others, by Jo Walton

Below is a ‘synopsis’ review; for my full review, check out Retrospeculative

In Among Others it’s unclear where the line between autobiography and fiction resides; but, at the very least, I assume fiction takes over where magic blurs the edges of reality. The novel won the Hugo Award (2012), the Nebula Award (2011), and the British Fantasy Award (The Robert Holdstock Award, 2012).

The novel is, in part, a love-letter to science fiction and fantasy books and their authors (and librarians), and there are numerous references to ‘speculative’ fiction within Among Others.

I enjoyed the novel, and there were even a few references to works I haven’t read that I may look up. Events proceed with a charming aura and, although not much happens in the novel, it is the journey that makes the experience worthwhile. For me, the journey began decades ago as a young boy. Since finishing the novel I’m almost sure I’ve detected fairies out the corners of my eyes, at the edge of what is called reality.

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A boy and his Mom

Sometimes conversations are meant for eavesdropping…

I was standing in the aisle on a bus. A young mother (in her mid thirties) and her son (perhaps seven years old) were sitting on the seat beside me. The woman was reading a paperback and the boy was playing a game on a hand-held device; his legs were swinging, his eyes were glued to the screen.

Suddenly, the boy’s legs stilled; he looked sideways, and said, “Mom?”

“Yes?” she answered, but her eyes remained on the book.

“Why are some people evil?”

The woman closed the book, set it on her lap. She thought for a moment, and then said, “I think it’s a bad choice they’ve made. We all have good and bad thoughts, and it’s up to each of us to decide which thoughts to follow. I think that without evil it’s impossible to decide what is good. It’s like hard things and soft thinks: you need the comparison to tell which is which. There are people at the two ends of the scale of behaviour: saints and evil people. The rest of the people — most of us — are in-between saints and evil people. The average person, most of society, decides that it’s better to be more like a saint than an evil person. Maybe it’s the difference that helps people to decide to become better human beings.”

The boy’s attention returned to the game, his legs a-swinging. The woman smiled, and then opened her book and continued reading.

But a few moments later the boy’s legs stilled; he looked at the woman again and said, “Mom?”

“Mmm, hmm?”

“What if saints were even better, and evil people not so evil? Or if there was more saints and less bad people? Then the difference between good and evil would go toward better, and average people would be nicer. Wouldn’t that be good?”

His mom paused for several seconds before answering; finally, she said, “Yes. Yes, that would be good.” And she put her book into her purse and hugged him until I got off the bus two stops later.

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The Art of Speigelman

Art Spiegelman
Self Portrait with Maus Mask, 1989

It was a gorgeous day yesterday, and I went downtown with my wife and daughter (Cathy and Brynne), to — among other things — take a stroll through the Vancouver Art Gallery. The exhibit that intrigued me the most was Art Spiegelman’s CO-MIX: A Retrospective of Comics, Graphics and Scraps. The exhibit includes more than four hundred preparatory drawings, studies, detailed drawings, sketches, et cetera, with connections to his early 1970s work in underground ‘comix’ (under the leadership of Robert Crumb), his award-winning Maus, and some newer works.

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I was amazed at the extent of Spiegelman’s high-quality output, and with the variety of style, subject, and composition. It was particularly interesting to see the process from scraps, through sketches with notes, studies, detailed drawings and, finally, the finished work. It was also nice to see some of the imperfections in his work; the kind of thing that is sanitized for public consumption — I rather like the slight smudges, et cetera: they add an essential layer of reality.

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It was also an eye-opener to see the detail, depth, and quality of the Maus compositions: the product available in book form doesn’t do the work justice.

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If you have a chance to see the show in Vancouver, or if it comes to a city near you in the future, I highly recommend a trip to view the works; particularly if you have any intention of becoming an illustrator, graphic artist, writing your own graphic novel, or if you just enjoy the art form; especially, of course, if you are a fan of Art Spiegelman.

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Retrospeculative

As if I don’t waste enough time on the computer, I’ve decided to start another blog…

I’m not sure what the blog will eventually look like (if past projects are any indication, I’ll notice some scope creep…), but it’s starting out as a retrospective look at speculative fiction (an ‘umbrella’ term that never quite caught on, but is often used and includes science fiction (with its relatives, utopian, dystopian, apocalyptic, post-apocalyptic and alternate history), fantasy, supernatural fiction, superhero fiction, et cetera).

If you’re at all interested, the site — Retrospeculative.wordpress.com — is up and running with the first post, my pick for the best speculative novel of 1952 (I’ve also added Retrospeculative to my blogroll).

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A Hurricane on Saturn

http://www.nasa.gov

It has been pretty windy around here lately, but I just read about a storm that defies comparison anywhere on Earth…

Cassini — a spacecraft launched from Cape Canaveral in 1997 — has sent back some dramatic pictures of a colossal hurricane at Saturn’s North Pole.

The eye of the storm is over two-thousand kilometers in diameter, twenty times the size of a typical hurricane on Earth. Scientists believe that the storm has been active for years, with its epicenter anchored at the North Pole where water vapor must be fueling the hurricane. Clouds reach speeds of over five hundred kilometers per hour at the periphery of the hurricane.

NASA constructed a video (with informative audio) from the images gathered by Cassini

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Where in the world is the North Pole?

physics.hku.hk

It’s not like I was planning a vacation (but you never know); I was just curious, and decided to find out exactly where on the planet the North Pole is. The answer wasn’t as easy as I thought…

As a matter of fact, there are several ‘North Poles’ (the following is somewhat ‘borrowed’ from a Scientific American article…):

• North Pole, Alaska. This town isn’t close to any of the other North Poles in this post, but the town gets a lot of mail just prior to Christmas every year.
• Geographic North Pole, the point where all the lines of longitude of a map meet: known as true north to cartographers.
• Celestial North Pole, a whimsical point that is defined by extrapolating the Earth’s axis of rotation into the heavens. If we imagine the celestial North Pole as a hub, the universe of stars — the celestial sphere — rotates around it. This is an important point for the set-up of sundials (Polaris — the North Star — is located surprisingly close to the Celestial North Pole).
• Instantaneous North Pole, where the Earth’s rotational axis meets its surface. The instantaneous North Pole is not a fixed point: it whirls in an erratic, spiral dance called the Chandler wobble (i.e.: the Earth wobbles, as discovered in 1891 by Seth Carlo Chandler).
• The North Pole of Balance is defined as the center-point of the Chandler wobble (see above).
• Magnetic North Pole, where the Earth’s magnetic field is vertical (also called ‘the magnetic dip pole’: if you stand at this point, a compass needle will try to point (dip) straight down). Similarly to the instantaneous North Pole, the magnetic North Pole is not a static point; it moves as much as fifty kilometers per year. Currently, the magnetic North Pole is moving from northern Canada toward Siberia. And, to be factual, the magnetic North Pole is somewhat of a misnomer because it actually behaves like the south pole of a magnet (by definition, a magnet’s flux lines describe a vector away from the north pole and toward the south pole: the opposite of Earth’s north/south pole magnetic field vectors).
• Geomagnetic North Pole is an attempt to treat the complexity of Earth’s magnetic field as a dipole bar magnet. Geomagnetic north is of little use to navigators — magnetic north is much more useful — but if you happen to be a space physicist, geomagnetic north might interest you because the further you travel from our planet the more it approximates the characteristics of a dipole bar magnet.

In summary, I have no idea which North Pole Santa calls home; also, if you’re planning a trip to the North Pole, you’d best decide which one you want to arrive at before setting out.

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