Sharon K. Reamer

Hiatus, anyone?

2011-03-07T09:11:00.000-08:00

I apologize for my loooooooooooong silence on this blog. I have been working steadily (but much too slowly) on finishing my fourth book (but my first hard SF effort), Gravity's Gift. It has been a difficult but rewarding journey, and once I have put some finishing touches on the first draft and shoved it into a drawer for a brief but necessary slumber, I will have the freedom to do many other things.

Like laundry.

And gardening.

And actually going outside. Whoa. There's a whole world out there.

And writing some short stories. (YAY! Short stories).

And writing some more blog posts.

Monster Awareness Month

2011-03-07T09:06:00.000-08:00

My contribution, below, first appeared here, for the hugely successful Monster Awareness Month, brought to you by the fab Monster Awareness Team, Mark Deniz, Orrin Grey, K. V. Taylor, Harry Markov, Robert Hood, and Sharon Ring.

Stay tuned for Zombie Awareness Month in May, 2011.

Review of Mothra vs. Godzilla

Release date: 1964, Toho Co., Ltd.
Filmed in Tohoscope
Tomoyuki Tayaka and Sanezumi Fujimoto, Producers
Ishiro Honda, Director
Written by Shinichi Sekizawa

This film is the fourth in the Godzilla series and the last in which Godzilla is willingly malevolent. Mothra appears for the second time here after her 1961debut in her own film, Mothra. Both Godzilla and Mothra continued to meet up in several films after this one, mostly as allies in fights against diverse other monsters to preserve the earth.

A short synopsis: The King of all Monsters battles a giant moth.

Mothra vs. Godzilla begins with a giant typhoon laying waste to a part of Japan's coastline including footage of what looks like a giant easter egg washing into the ocean from a somewhat precarious perch on the side of a cliff.

The egg washes up onto a Japanese beach the next day or is carted in by a horde of fishermen – it was not really clear from the film but nonetheless amusing. The contrast of the blue painted egg against the backdrop of sand and tiny people standing around gawking at it was quite nice. The proprietor of the Happy Enterprises corporation strikes a deal to buy the egg from the landowners for a sum of money equal to the cost of purchasing 153,000 chicken eggs – or thereabouts – intending to build a tourist attraction around it.

Enter the tiny chicks. This was really the only part of the film I remembered from way back when I saw it the first time. The Shobijin are lovely twin ladies less than a foot tall with white fur hats and exquisitely tailored outfits (including matching short fur capes in their initial appearance in the film) who can speak telepathically with their deity/benefactor, Mothra – or as she is often referred to, confusingly, in the film – The Thing. The women have come to retrieve the egg and take it back to the island where they and Mothra live – Infant Island. The greedy developer from Happy Enterprises and his even greedier silent partner refuse. Two reporters and a scientist try – and fail – to return the egg to the small women. Disgruntled but grateful, the tiny chicks climb onto Mothra – seen only vaguely through some trees – and fly back to their island.

Enter Godzilla. The scientists discover some puzzling and alarming radioactivity on the shoreline (and here, the film's most hilarious – to me – sequence is the scientists eradicating the radioactivity from the fully clothed reporters in a hot steam cabinet). Not only has the typhoon transported the egg to the shore, Godzilla, has apparently washed up as well. He makes a dramatic entrance and is not in a good mood. People run for their lives. Buildings suffer. The U.S. military gets called in (U.S. version only).

Doom and gloom abound as attempts to kill Godzilla do not succeed. In a desperate move, the reporters and their scientist friend are transported to Infant Island to seek help from the tiny ladies against the giant reptile. The bizarre island tribesmen capture them and the head shaman – truly magnificent in white skirt and feathered headdress – do not initially cooperate. After some last-minute speeches about how we're all brothers on this planet, and not everyone is a greedy developer, Mothra chirps in and decides to help the humans defeat Godzilla. The tiny chicks sing to her, and we're off to save Japan.

Some nifty monster battle scenes follow including Mothra dragging Godzilla by the tail and another military effort involving extremely high doses of electricity and tanks incinerated by Godzilla's atomic breath. Be sure to watch out for Godzilla's head in flames.

Enter the egg. It hatches. This bit involves spoilers as the film builds to its climax, so I won't go into the details except to say it involves a significant amount of giant caterpillar action and another nifty monster fight scene.

After the convoluted beginning, The Mothra vs. Godzilla storyline is not bad, and for the genre, better than most of the films in the Godzilla series. The pacing is quite good, and the story actually holds together throughout most of the film. Godzilla's facial expression is quite menacing in this film as a fitting accompaniment to the stressed-metal sound of his roar, even if his head does wobble a little at one point. He doesn't have that goofy appearance he acquired in some of the later films. He does amble around the shoreline in a less than purposeful fashion here as compared to the first film.

My favorite line in the movie after the tiny chicks making their entrance with 'Give us the egg' was the Japanese military commander's line after a failed attempt to stop Godzilla, "All right. Commence Plan B."

But humor aside – and there is much in the Godzilla films to find amusement in, viewing the film now, years later, one aspect has stood out. The Japanese islands have been continually plagued throughout their history of human occupation with catastrophes associated with natural disasters: earthquakes, tsunamis and typhoons. The movie starts with a typhoon. The 'people' in the film are depicted as taking that in stride. In fact, the Japanese are today globally recognized for their expertise on preparedness for natural disaster. It was interesting that the typhoon, arguably also a bringer of death and destruction, was only the catalyst for an even worse event, Godzilla's return – the threat of nuclear destruction.

This movie was easily my favorite of the Godzilla movies, but I never managed to see more than a handful of the twenty-eight original films. The early films, with Godzilla portrayed as Evil Monster, had a clear symbolic premise. In this film in particular, not only does Godzilla again represent the evil of nuclear testing, but Mothra as well. She is looking quite bedraggled, and some of the natives of Infant Island have painted themselves bright red, most assuredly meant to 'symbolize' radiation burns. The natives are also the victims of prolonged nuclear tests.

Godzilla is the clear star of the film, even though Mothra represents the protagonist, the protector of the Earth against Godzilla's destructive threat. A Mothra action figure was released in September 2010 as part of the Sci-Fi Revoltech Series from the Kaiyodo Company. It includes a cocoon and partially destroyed Tokyo tower.

It's fitting that Mothra vs. Godzilla is enjoying a resurgence of popularity, together with the later Mothra trilogy, released from 1996-1998 and shown on The Japanese Movie Specialty Channel in 2008. Fifty years after Godzilla's first appearance on film, he is still with us, his threat reduced but a potent reminder of a possible future all of us would like to avoid.

Meeting Prague

2010-10-10T10:22:00.000-07:00

Arrived today in Prague for a four-day stay - my second trip as 'just spouse' and this time with an accompanying teenager.

Prague is a lovely city, a completely chaotic mix of old world, new world - complete with KFC, TGIF, and the same high-priced stores you see in any major European city - and the lingering remains of dreadful East bloc architecture on the outskirts of the city.

Walking through the generous pedestrian zones, Gothic figures stared down from buildings on nearly every corner in addition to gold-filigreed ornaments and lots and lots of cobblestones. Note to self - do not wear your chucks to cities with lots and lots of cobblestones. My feet are killing me. But it was worth it. We saw the Charles Bridge, the Astrological Clock (Death rings the bell every hour) and enjoyed the brilliant October sunshine along with (it seemed like) thousands of others.

We passed by the Kepler Museum (he was born in Regensburg, Germany but he worked here) and the Kafka Museum in addition to the Museum of Medieval Torture Instruments and the Sex Machine Museum. I wasn't allowed in the last two (although my interest was definitely piqued by the entry hall exhibits). I'm going to be looking for an art museum nearby to drag my son to, and we'll be doing a grand tour, including the Prague Castle on Wednesday.

And you've got to love a language where the letters are topped by smiles and accenty-things. It's so cheerful even if you don't understand a word. The people are as friendly as their language. Four days is not going to be nearly enough.

An Interview with Colin Harvey

2010-08-31T00:50:00.000-07:00

Colin Harvey talks about his novel, Winter Song.

We are sitting in the main lounge of the Cedar Court Hotel in Bradford. It's Easter Sunday, and we're right in the middle of Eastercon. Writers and outlandishly dressed fans walk by us on their way to assorted panels and events. In reality, though, we're not even in our own solar system. Instead, we are traipsing across a beautiful but stark landscape on a planet about the size of Mars that is descending into global winter.

The planet is called Isheimur. It looks a lot like Iceland.

Colin recalls that the inspiration for Winter Song came during a vacation to Iceland in September 2007 even though he had visited the country on many occasions before and had even picked up a smattering of Icelandic. I wondered what specifically had made such a deep impression on him.

Colin tells me, "While we were driving around Iceland, once we were away from the towns, I kept thinking what a magnificent setting it would make for an SF novel; it's wilder and more desolate than anywhere else I know."

During his visit, the idea for a deep space novel with alien life forms on a globally scaled-up version of Iceland was born. A brief but fortuitous friendship developed between Colin and British expatriate, Bernard Scudder.

Colin reminisces about his relationship with the Icelandic author. "I knew Bernard's name from reading novels translated into English from Icelandic with his byline on as translator. I was fascinated by the very cool, spare prose and wanted to learn whether that came from him or the author. My friend Skorri got his number and I just rang him up! We exchanged e-mails for a while, and when Kate and I decided to visit Iceland, I arranged to meet Bernard for a coffee on my last evening in Reykjavik."

Colin and Bernard talked about storytelling, about the Norse Sagas and how they compared to modern literature. This gelled with Colin's own exploration of Norse mythology. In fact, the model for the perfect antagonist presented himself when Colin visited Borgarnes, the first settlement in Iceland, and location for some of Egil's Saga. The saga includes a fantastical account of the life of Egil Skallagrímsson, Icelandic farmer, Viking, and skald, a sort of Viking bard, who lived during the tenth century, CE. I want to know more about the nature of his inspiration from the saga and how he made the interstellar leap from dead Viking to aliens and an SF setting.

"I loved the idea of a man capable of acts of incredible brutality, yet who could write beautiful poetry, who was almost heroically ugly, yet his vitality attracted women. Ragnar (the antagonist in Winter Song) was a fusion of two people I knew, because the sagas don't attribute emotions or motives, only the character's actions.

"A Norse saga doesn't lend itself to modern readers, who want a beginning, middle and end and to understand why characters do what they do. Sagas are long, rambling affairs that veer off-plot for pages on end and in which the narrator simply says what happened without explanation why.

"The nearest I could get to it would be an SF novel with a mythic element. And if I was going to write an SF novel on another planet that resembled Iceland, it had to have local life forms or just risk turning into Cowboys-and-Indians in space."

Bernard Scudder's unexpected death in October 2007 affected Colin greatly. He began to 'compost' his ideas about Winter Song over the next six months, determined to bring the story to fruition to honor his late friend and the animated discussions they had and who had introduced him through his translations to the Sagas,. In April 2008, Colin started writing and finished Winter Song in December of that same year.

We've landed back in Great Britain again. Bradford comes into focus around us as Colin takes a minute to explain about his frustration with science fiction in general and how many deep-space SF stories lack a complex political background. Colin's vision of future space colonization centers on a bifurcated evolution of two opposing factions: Pantropists and Terraformers. The issues between them can be summarized with one word: adaptation. I want to know how he formed his world-building concept.

Colin answered, "Some of the ideas date back almost a decade, but always featuring one or the other of the factions. For example, the protagonist in 'On the Rock' (link here) – is a clone, but the complex structure only took shape as I outlined Winter Song. There are two main factions; Pantropists, who adapt people to the world they live on, and Terraformers, who adapt the planet to fit human beings. But at right angles to that we have another sent of factions who have ideas about what form humanity should take, even among the Terraformers."

He also explains his concept that space exploration as told in Winter Song was also a way of preserving fringe cultures, such as the people who have colonized Isheimur. Because of their initial Icelandic homogeneity, the culture survives and is preserved through the generations.

This is world-building on a galactic scale. I was impressed with Winter Song's very personal, in-depth examination of a cultural remnant on a planet in the throes of an imminent ice age. I ask Colin about the connection between his world-building concepts and his story.

"When a spacer falls to the planet's surface, he's rescued by the colonists on Isheimur, who are Terraformer descendants. Though he owes them his life, he's desperate to retain his neutral status. Sending a Mayday risks bringing one faction or another along, but doing nothing is even less viable once he starts to learn Isheimur's secrets."

Another question I had while reading Winter Song was whether he consciously intended the novel to be a commentary on human impact to climate on a planetary scale.

"I suppose it is, but in reverse. They've engineered something marginally habitable to humans, but they ran out of money before they could stabilize the ecosystem, and without being able to finish the job --for which they need to resume contact with the wider universe-- their colony will inevitably fail."

I begin to understand the necessity to isolate Isheimur and prompt Colin to tell me more.

"The planet had to be isolated from the galactic hub or the 'pure' Icelandic culture would have been eroded. The story focuses on the conflicts between a protagonist (Karl) stranded on the planet, who is desperate to get home to his family, and his 'rescuer,' (Ragnar) a control freak who wants to prevent it, but it's also about the clash between Icelanders who want to keep their culture in the face of global homogenization. Ragnar very much reflects some Icelanders' feelings."

I nod at his explanation. That aspect of Winter Song felt genuine and gave a nice added dimension to the political complexities of interstellar warring factions. But like any really ripping yarn, Winter Song focuses on survival and conflict – protagonist and antagonist pitting their wills against one another. And against Nature. I ask Colin whether he intended Nature to take on the role as antagonist. And if that reflected his own feelings as he traveled across Iceland.

"Definitely. While some of the colonists are hostile, they're nothing compared to the wildlife -whale-birds that spit poison and aboriginal trolls-- that threaten Karl and his friend Bera at every turn. But as a result of what he learns Karl has to risk unleashing a 'global winter' which extreme though it is will actually save the colony in the long run."

I scoot back into my chair and chew the end of my pen. I have lots more questions for Colin. I want to explore the romantic subplot between Karl and Bera and the myriad native creatures and talk about the skillful way he built tension and shaped my expectations as I read. Not only intense in scope and action-packed, Winter Song is British-made SF at its very best.

But don't just take my word for it.

Winter Song will be released in the U.S. in September, 2010 by (the newly independent) Angry Robot Books. Colin's latest release, the near-future SF thriller, Damage Time, will be released in the U.S./U.K. in October, 2010. His most recent anthology, Future Bristol from Swimming Kangaroo Books, is an SF anthology based on, not surprisingly, a near-future version of the city of Bristol.

Still Life with Bunnies

2010-07-21T08:36:00.000-07:00

Only three days into our visit from the Trained Goldsby Bunnies, Nelly and Lila, I already have my first battle scar, a four-inch scratch on my arm. Luckily, we also own a cat, Ramses, commonly known as 'Miezie' or 'Hey, you, cat', so instead of having to admit that I was mauled by the rabbit equivalent of Hello Kitty, I can tell everyone my vicious cat attacked me.

Who needs chainsaws? These bunnies, cleverly disguised with cotton tails and twitchy bunny noses, are out for blood. At least Nelly is. Lila just aims her floppy ears at me like two samurai swords as if to say, 'Go on, make my day.' That and her likely seismically significant kicks against the rabbit stall are enough even to make Ramses take the long way around the patio. Not that's he's afwaid of a widdle wabbit. Nope. He just, ahem, wants to go that way. I can't say I blame him.

But I also can't actually blame Nelly or Iila. For them, the whole world is composed of things that want to eat them. Like the falcon I saw circling the trees yesterday. It already probed ingress into the house sparrow villa in our eaves. Luckily, the bunnies are safe in their stall and only have to contend with jumpy-assed cats and cursing writers (I think only one f-word escaped during the bunny battle) until their owners return.

In the meantime, I'm putting the gloves on for these cute but deadly beasties.

Are we there yet?

2010-05-22T07:56:00.000-07:00

Yes, we are.

Welcome.

I do lots of things in the kitchen. Writing, cooking, even seed planting.

At the moment there are at least 20 seed packets scattered across the kitchen table. Today I've planted baby corn (in giant pots, an experiment that has a high potential to go bad), round yellow zucchini, Italian Borlotto beans, ipomoea 'Hazelwood Blues' and fed about a dozen cutworms to the blackbirds while weeding.

I've also made pudding to go with the compote made from rhubarb fresh from the garden and I've just put the potato salad in the refrigerator to go with the hot dogs for dinner.

Yep. It must be summer.