I love this word–humblebrag (v.); it’s been used by two separate people this week in conversations with me; yes, both of those people are Canadian. I also am Canadian, so I’m going to use this word, too. See what I did there? I made a syllogism; or maybe it was science. Imagine this has all been a very compelling and clever segue into me, (you guessed it!), humblebragging a little.
My friend Andrew Cornell recently launched a great new site devoted to good writing about SF, Fantasy, Hard-Boiled, and Horror. Whether or not you’re interested in genre fiction, you should check out Albino Books, because Andrew is a really great writer. For me, the sign of a great writer is that I want to read their work no matter the topic–and Andrew’s right up there among the best.
Luckily for me, Andrew thinks I’m an okay writer too, and so I will be doing a regular feature at Albino Books, every two months or so, called Copper Cylinders. It’s just me, a know-nothing about SF, etc, reading classics of SF and then reviewing them. I know, right? SO FUN.
My first installment went up today; it’s about Theodore Sturgeon’s 1955 classic More Than Human. A difficult and compelling and sometimes frustrating book, this. Which is the point–I’m being challenged. So I’m really looking forward to my future posts. (And not only because I will finally be forced to read The Left Hand of Darkness, although that too.)
I’ve been posting a fair bit on Food Riot as well. That I was able to write weekly for them this summer has been something nearly miraculous because I spent almost 3 months without getting more than 3 hours sleep a night–and it was never 3 hours in a row!! I was being crushed and broken and destroyed by back pain so bad I could never get comfortable no matter what I did. To cheer myself up, I wrote a fun and silly piece called The Insomniac’s Cookbook. But my favourites have been, of course, my unabashedly emotional posts on my grandmother and my darling husband. That said, I am rather fond of my latest, An Eggplant of the Mind, which finally solves that conundrum to end all conundrums: the difference between fruits and vegetables.
I’m not being humble enough, am I?
Over at Open Letters Monthly (a wonderful Arts and Letters journal), I’ve been allowed to do some editing, which I thoroughly enjoy. I’m looking forward to doing some more writing for them too, but I’m interested in almost no new fiction…it’s a problem. Maybe they’ll just let me write Second Glance pieces for them forever and ever. (Probably not. Le sigh.)
So, two questions: What contemporary authors should someone who hates most contemporary literary fiction read? And what classics of SF should I make sure I don’t miss? BRING ON THE SUGGESTIONS. (I make no promises whatsoever about taking said suggestions.)