My review of Ildefonso Falcones' La mana de Fátima now up at Omnivoracious

Here's the link.

Would say more, but I need to get back to work now. Ciao.

Jeff Ford wins 2009 Shirley Jackson Award for Best Novel

Just saw this posted on his blog, but haven't yet found out who won in the other categories. This is very cool, as The Shadow Year was one of my favorite 2008 novels. For those curious about the shortlist, here it is:

• Alive in Necropolis, Doug Dorst (Riverhead Hardcover)
• The Man on the Ceiling, Steve Rasnic Tem and Melanie Tem (Wizards of the Coast Discoveries)
• Pandemonium, Daryl Gregory (Del Rey)
• The Resurrectionist, Jack O’Connell (Algonquin Books)
• The Shadow Year, Jeffrey Ford (William Morrow)
• Tender Morsels, Margo Lanagan (Knopf Books for Young Readers)

I've read and enjoyed the Lanagan and the Tems as well (and will read the others eventually), so it appears to have been chosen from a nice group of finalists.

I'll edit this later when I find out the results for the other categories.

Edit: Thanks to Charles Tan pointing me the way, here are the other winners. Congrats to all!

Short Story: "The Pile" by Michael Bishop (Subterranean Online, Winter 2008)
Single Author Collection: The Diving Pool, Yoko Ogawa (Picador)
Anthology: The New Uncanny, edited by Sarah Eyre and Ra Page (Comma Press)
Novella: Disquiet, Julia Leigh (Penguin/Hamish Hamilton)
Novelette: "Pride and Prometheus", John Kessel (The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, January 2008)

Fantasy Masterworks #41: John Gardner, Grendel

"Man," he said, then left a long pause, letting scorn build up in the cave like the venom in his breath. "I can see you understand them. Counters, measurers, theory-makers.

All pigs eat cheese.
Old Snaggle is a pig.
If Snaggle is sick and refuses to eat, try cheese.

Games, games, games!" He snorted fire. "They only think they think. No total vision, total system, merely shemes with a vague family resemblance, no more identity than bridges and, say, spiderwebs. But they rush across chasms on spiderwebs, and sometimes they make it, and that, they think, settles that! I could tell you a thousand tiresome stories of their absurdity. They'd map out roads through Hell with their crackpot theories, their here-to-the-moon-and-back lists of paltry facts. Insanity - the simplest insanity ever devised! Simple facts in isolation, and facts to connect them - ands and buts - are the sine qua non of all their glorious achievement. But there are no such facts. Connectedness is the essence of everything. It doesn't stop them, of course. They build the whole world out of teeth deprived of bodies to chew or be chewed on.

"They sense that, of course, from time to time; have uneasy feelings that all they live by is nonsense. They have dim apprehensions that such propositions as 'God does not exist' are somewhat dubious at least in comparison with statements like 'All carnivorous cows eat meat.' That's where the Shaper saves them. Provides an illusion of reality - puts together all their facts with a gluey whine of connectedness. Mere tripe, believe me. Mere sleight-of-wits. He knows no more than they do about total reality - less, if anything: works with the same old clutter of atoms, the givens of his time and place and tongue. But he spins it all together with harp runs and hoots, and they think what they think is alive, think Heaven loves them. It keeps them going - for what that's worth. As for myself, I can hardly bear to look." (pp. 65-66)

The above quote, where a dragon is conversing with the young monster Grendel about the delusions of Men, serves to represent a good portion of what John Gardner's short 1971 novel, Grendel, purports to cover. Told in a first-person point of view, this novel plays off of the events of the epic poem Beowulf in such a way as to create a story that has a deep resonance beyond that related to the poem itself.

Grendel has begun a twelve year-long war with the Danes; this is noted in a matter-of-fact way that serves more as a backdrop to the larger story that Gardner aimed to tell. Grendel's narration of events include not just his struggles against men (and ultimately, the unnamed Beowulf who slays him), but how the young monster relates to the world around him. In reading this story, I found myself in turns bemused and reflective, as Grendel and those around him, like the dragon above, muse on all sorts of things in life. There are many angles and schools of thought presented in the twelve chapters of this book, each representing a particular approach. This, combined with the sly references to the epic poem, made for an intriguing, enchanting tale that I certainly will be re-reading several times in the near future.

Is this book worthy of being called a "Masterwork?" Yes, as Gardner's prose is excellent, the story contains several layers of depth and meaning, and the character of Grendel is memorable. Even though it is almost 40 years old, the writing should be very accessible to most younger readers, as it does not feel "dated" at all and the ideas contained within the text are universal ones that humans have pondered for millennia.

June 22-July 12 Reads

Been very lax on this, as I've been very busy (busier than I thought I'd be) at work. But this will be more of a list and less of a capsule review, since several of these will be getting individual short reviews shortly:

225 Edmundo Paz Soldán, Los vivos y los muertos - Already commented on this before, but this is one of my favorite 2009 releases.

226 Andrzej Sapkowski, Narrenturm - Spanish-language translation of the first volume of his Hussite Wars trilogy that mixes historical fiction with a bit of magic. Different in style from the Geralt novels, it took me a while to get used to it, but once I did, I found myself wanting to read the next volume, which sadly won't be available for at least another year.

227 Evangeline Walton, The Mabinogion - Already Reviewed.

228 Ildefonso Falcones, La mano de Fátima - Review already written, will link to it when it goes live.

229 Robert E. Howard, The Conan Chronicles Volume I: The People of the Black Circle - Already reviewed.

230 Andrés Neuman, El viajero del siglo - This 2009 Premio Alfaguara winner was a good read, although not as great as the cover blurb hinted that it could have been.

231 John Gardner, Grendel - Review forthcoming.

232 L. Sprague de Camp and Fletcher Pratt, The Compleat Enchanter - Review forthcoming.

233 Andrzej Sapkowski, Camino sin retorno - Collection of Sapkowski's short stories, most of them set outside the Geralt universe. Good stuff.

234 Sherri Tepper, Grass - Review forthcoming.

235 José Saramago, Las pequeñas memorias (re-read from 2008) - Nicely-told memoirs of Saramago's youth in Portugal.

236 David Lindsay, A Voyage to Arcturus - Review forthcoming.

237 Michael A. Steele and John L. Kaprowski, North American Tree Squirrels - Great introduction to my favorite/most feared rodents.

238 José Saramago, El año de la muerte de Ricardo Reis - This story mixes in the final days of Fernando Pessoa/Ricardo Reis with what was occurring in Europe and Portugal in the 1920s and 1930s. Ending was devastating.

239 José Saramago, O Evangelho Segundo Jesus Cristo - First time reading Saramago's 1991 masterpiece in Portuguese. His Jesus is one of the more complex renderings imagined in the 20th century. Very controversial, of course, but considering the title, that was to be expected, no?

240 Michael Swanwick, The Iron Dragon's Daughter - Review forthcoming.

241 Mario Benedetti, El amor, las mujeres y la vida - Excellent collection of Spanish-language poems.

242 Patricia McKillip, The Forgotten Beasts of Eld - Review forthcoming.

243 Lord Dunsany, The King of Elfland's Daughter - Review forthcoming.

244 C.L. Moore, Black Gods and Scarlet Dreams - Review forthcoming.


In Progress:

Javier Negrete, La gran aventura de los griegos

Julio Cortázar, Papeles inesperados

Geoff Ryman, WAS

Future Plans:

Leigh Brackett, The Seagods of Mars and Other Stories

Saramago on writing and "translating"

It is a shame that Nobel laureate José Saramago's blog, El Cuaderno de Saramago, is only available in Portuguese and Spanish, as he updates his blog almost daily, often with some interesting musings, such as the one below on writing being a form of translation. I had a formal translation almost done, but I left it at work, so for now I'm going to post the entry and give a brief synopsis of it without being too literal to his text. Later, I'll edit this post with a more exact translation (the irony is something else, no?):

Escribir es traducir. Siempre lo será. Incluso cuando estamos utilizando nuestra propia lengua. Transportamos lo que vemos y lo que sentimos (suponiendo que el ver y el sentir, como en general los entendemos, sean algo más que las palabras con las que nos va siendo relativamente posible expresar lo visto y lo sentido…) a un código convencional de signos, la escritura, y dejamos a las circunstancias y a las casualidades de la comunicación la responsabilidad de hacer llegar hasta la inteligencia del lector, no la integridad de la experiencia que nos propusimos transmitir (inevitablemente parcelada en cuanto a la realidad de que se había alimentado), sino al menos una sombra de lo que en el fondo de nuestro espíritu sabemos que es intraducible, por ejemplo, la emoción pura de un encuentro, el deslumbramiento de una descubierta, ese instante fugaz de silencio anterior a la palabra que se quedará en la memoria como el resto de un sueño que el tiempo no borrará por completo.

El trabajo de quien traduce consistirá, por tanto, en pasar a otro idioma (en principio, al propio) lo que en la obra y en el idioma original y había sido ya “traducción”, es decir, una determinada percepción de una realidad social, histórica, ideológica y cultural que no es la del traductor, substanciada, esa percepción, en un entramado lingüístico y semántico que tampoco es el suyo. El texto original representa únicamente una de las “traducciones” posibles de la experiencia de la realidad del autor, estando el traductor obligado a convertir el “texto-traducción” en “traducción-texto”, inevitablemente ambivalente, porque, después de haber comenzado captando la experiencia de la realidad objeto de su atención, el traductor tiene que realizar el trabajo mayor de transportarla intacta al entramado lingüístico y semántico de la realidad (otra) para la que tiene el encargo de traducir, respetando, al mismo tiempo, el lugar de donde vino y el lugar hacia donde va. Para el traductor, el instante del silencio anterior a la palabra es pues como el umbral de un movimiento “alquímico” en que lo que es necesita transformarse en otra cosa para continuar siendo lo que había sido. El diálogo entre el autor y el traductor, en la relación entre el texto que es y el texto que será, no es solo entre dos personalidades particulares que han de completarse, es sobre todo un encuentro entre dos culturas colectivas que deben reconocerse.

And now for the translation that talks about "translation":

To write is to translate. It always will be. Even when we are using our own language. We transport what we see and feel (supposing that "see" and "feel," as we understand them in general, are something more than words which to us it's relatively possible to express what is "seen" and felt"...) to a conventional code of signs, writing, and we leave to circumstances and to the casualities of communication the responsibility of having it reach the intelligence of the reader, not the integrity of the experience which we propose to transmit (inevitably parceled in as much the reality from which it had fed), instead to the least a shadow from which in the depths of our spirit we know is untranslatable, for example, the pure emotion of an encounter, the bedazzlement of a discovery, that fleeing instant of silence before the word which will remain in memory like the rest of a dream which time will not erase completely.

The job work of a translator will consist, of course, in passing to another language (in the beginning, one's own) that which in the work and in the original language already had been a "translation," to whit, a certain perception of a social, historical, ideological, and cultural reality which is not the translator's, substantiates that perception, in neither a linguistic nor semantic framework which is his own. The original text represents uniquely one os the possible "translations" of the author's reality, being that the translator is obliged to covert the "text-translation" into "translation-text," inevitably ambivalent, because, after having commenced capturing the experience of the reality which is the object of his attention, the translator has to accomplish the greater labor of transporting it intact to the linguistic and semantic framework of reality (other) for which he has the burden of translating, respecting, at the same time the place where it came from and the place to where it's going. For the translator, the instant of silence before the word is well like the shadow of an "alchemical" moment in which that which is needs to transform itself into another thing in order to continue being what it had been. The dialogue between author and translator in the relationship between the text what is and the text what will be is not only between two particular personalities that have to complete it, it is above all an encounter between two collective cultures which ought to recognize it.

In this piece, Saramago notes that the very fact of writing is a form of translation. One cannot render exactly feelings such as uncovering of a mystery or a fortuitious encounter with a dear friend. A writer has to pick and choose from commonly-accepted verbal codes those sounds that emulate to some degree the breadth and depth of emotion. Writers seek to approximate the pure emotions that we experience on a regular basis. But it is but a translation, a carrying over from one, personal idiom/form into another. Inevitably, there is something lost when thoughts and feelings are "translated" into the written medium, with a greater risk of misunderstandings and mistranslations taking place as the medium of communication moves from the personal and transcendent to something that has to be altered in order for it to be processed by others.

Interesting thoughts, to say the least. Sadly, my own "translation" barely covers more than the merest hints of what Saramago says in full. Hopefully, my full, formal translation later will help fill in the blanks.

Personal top 10 lists

Just an idle thought in-between working on an unexpected new surge of paperwork and reading more books in the Fantasy Masterworks series (hopefully, a slew of short commentaries will be up by the weekend on at least 4 books that I've read/am reading): What are 10 speculative fiction (the definition of which is left up to you, of course) would you say are among the best ever?

I'm curious to see what readers here would say, as I'd like to compile the results into a super list and put it over in the sidebar. Also, I think it'd be neat if other bloggers were to post something similar and provide a link, so there can be a comparison of sorts. Of course, this likely has been done to death in several places, but if it's (relatively) new here, it's still good, right?

My own list will appear later, so I won't influence the results any, if that were possible.

Defining tastes, modes, or whatever the hell you want to call it

So there's some discussion of sorts going on at Ecstatic Days about the bizarreness of trying to define that ever nebulous "literary fiction." Jeff VanderMeer makes some good points about the posts written by J.M. McDermott and yours truly, although I could note that in my original post I was more concerned with noting that the narrative mode called "literary fiction" is more inclusive and outward-looking than what McDermott seemed to be implying when he was decrying what he had endured reading by one particular writer.

I guess I should reiterate what I said over there about how I see the entire fiction "divide" as being little more than the arguing of picayune points in a much larger, "important" field of material culture (yes, I'm influenced by Thompsonian Marxists. Bite me). Namely, all that societies create to address particular concerns is fair game and that classifications serve as a way of viewing how said societies and their members go about organizing data and assigning meanings. But that's just boring cultural history stuff, no?

For another take on "literary fiction" (and a host of other things), here's a recent videotaped interview with R. Scott Bakker. Around the 2 minute mark, he starts talking about "literary fiction," giving it a social definition with which I disagree quite strongly:



With any luck, Terry Goodkind will be asked to share his thoughts on "literary fiction" and whether or not his writings are "fantasy" or "thrillers" in nature...