Frank Lloyd Wright vs. Zombies

So on our first day in Wisconsin, we took a field trip out to Taliesin, the estate where Frank Lloyd Wright lived for the last 40-odd years of his life. I’ve been meaning to for the five years I’ve gone to Wiscon. We went with Janine and Doselle Young, another sf power couple, braving the cows and silos to reach this modern masterpiece of design.


photo by Doselle Young

Historically speaking, there is no “true Taliesin” to preserve. The main house was constantly rebuilt by Wright and his acolytes, becoming sort of a sort of living laboratory of architecture. But you can feel his ego everywhere, the low ceilings pushing you to sit down when he wants you to, the views perfectly callibrated when you’re in the right chair, facing the right way. The house lets you know who’s still in charge: the dead architect.

Speaking of death . . . like all great architecture, Taliesin has great stories. The house was leveled twice during Wright’s lifetime, once by lightning and once by arson, his third wife burnt alive–along with kids and houseguests–by an enraged gardener. Whoa.

And it just gets weirder. In 1985, more than 25 years after his death, Wright’s body was snatched from the nearby cemetary. You see, his fourth and final wife wanted him exhumed and cremated upon her death, their ashes scattered together. But his family was a bit more old-school than that, and were like, “Uh, no.” But shortly after the wife’s death her supporters went on a midnight raid and dug Wright up. And the ashes got scattered together.

Which brings me to zombies. I wish I could say it was all the tour guide’s talk of murder and grave-robbing, but actually, I’m kind of immature about world heritage sights. Whenever I visit them, I think about where I want to live if there’s a world-depopulating plague. In a Wright house? The Battersea Power Station? Or maybe the Taj Mahal . . . because I’m not really into canned food or solitude, so the only really cool thing about global depopulation is all the freed-up architectural masterpieces.

But then my mind turns to other Last Man Alive issues, like, say, zombie apocalypse. So Doselle and I were standing there in Wright’s incredible house, cogitating on defensive issues. Of course, it does make the architecture come alive, worrying about hordes of zombies attacking.

So here’s our quick analysis, entitled, “Taliesin in Zombie Apocalypse: Fortress or Deathtrap?”

Advantages
1. Views in all directions to spot approaching zombie hordes, especially from the Romeo and Juliet Windmill Tower located on the estate.
2. Solid sandstone construction, not likely to be torn to pieces by undead hands.
3. Frank Lloyd Wright chairs never let you get “too comfortable.”
4. No major population centers nearby, just farmland. See map.
5. Organic melding of architecture and landscape allows for interlocking fields of fire.
6. Shop in vistors’ center can be looted for tasteful gifts.

Disadvantages
1. Lots of windows to be boarded up.
2. Rough exterior walls can be easily climbed by zombie horde.
3. No last-stand “suicide” basement.
4. Surrounding open spaces allow 28 Days-style “fast” zombies to get a big head of steam up.
5. Bring your own guns a must.

So, yes, a masterpiece, and highly recommended for a day trip if you like cool design. But in case of zombie apocalypse, I would stick to the mall until those 28 days (or whatever) are over.

Plane Leaves at 6:00AM

I am blogging to you from 4:19 in the morning to bring you this important news . . .
Apparently, there is a 4:19 in the morning! It differs from the normal 4:19 in the following ways:

Complete suckage.
Phantasmagoric darkness.
Unseasonable cold.
Strange fuzziness clings to all objects, especially teeth.

More later on this disturbing development.

Off to Wiscon

First things first: Go and buy Valiant now!

Well, maybe not now, because it officially hits the shelves on June 1. But you can always order it now, or go bug your local bookseller. I read it a couple of weeks ago, and let me tell you it is great stuff. For those of you who don’t know Holly Black’s work, it’s elegantly written urban fantasy. Black really knows her fey folk: They’re psychologically real, though otherworldly in that genuinely inhuman (and creepy) faerie way. Her human teenagers, on the other hand, are firmly grounded in the here and now. I love the collision of old-school phantasmagoria and gritty realism, which makes her universe a real pleasure to inhabit.

And this book is her best so far, which makes it a must read.

So, while you’re reading, I’m headed off to Wiscon, my favorite sf convention of the year. It’s billed as “the world’s leading feminist sf convention,” which it certainly is. It consists of lots of panels and conversations about this crazy world we live in, and various imaginary worlds we don’t live in, but might one day.

But it’s also summer camp for smart kids–but with adults, and beer. Or another way of putting it: It’s 800 of my favorite writerly and readerly people all packed into one hotel for a long weekend. We do formal things like sit on panels talking about writing and sf, and informal things like cocktail parties (in which we pretty much talk about writing and sf).

Here’s the schedule of my public events:

40 Common Questions for Pros
Saturday, 10:00–11:15 A.M. Room 623
Every pro writer has answered a million questions from interested amateurs. What are the most common questions you’ve fielded? The most uncommon? Share the questions and the answers with those who are interested. M: Lauren Ann McLaughlin, Jack Byrne, Scott Westerfeld, Ysabeau Wilce

This looks like fun. I love talking about the publishing business, and these kinds of panels always have a big audience of people with very wide eyes.

Pretty Magic Butlers of Roanoke
Sunday, 10:00–11:15 P.M. Readings Conference Room 2
Young adult fiction comes in many forms. Some of it involves the Pretty Magic Butlers of Roanoke who will read for your pleasure and offer spectacular cookies and prizes. Gwenda Bond, Justine Larbalestier, Scott Westerfeld, Ysabeau Wilce.

Me reading from PRETTIES with three other fabulous YA authors. Plus cookies and prizes.

The SignOut
Monday, 11:30am-12:45pm in Capitol Room

Come here with stacks of books and I will sign them. They don’t even have to be my books, I’ll sign anything.

(Note that one of my events starts at 10AM! What kind of revenge-is-a-dish-best-served-cold crap is this, anyway! Don’t they know no one goes to bed until 4AM at Wiscon! Okay. Deep calming breath.)

I may be blogging a bit from the con, or perhaps posting embarrassing pictures (see 4AM comment above). But if case I don’t, I’ll leave you all with some fine writing advice . . . later tonight.

Have a nice Memorial Day, and don’t steal my stuff while I’m not at home.

Justine Commits Bloggery

Justine, my wife, has been my great inspiration in going online. She had a website before me, has introduced me to most of the cool blogs I read, and has been my excellent web mistress for the last year. For this she has all my thanks, and so much love she would need buckets.

And now, at long last, she has her own blog. Which starts by revealing the way-cool cover of her next book, Magic Lessons. (Sequel to the fantabulous Magic or Madness.) Most authors don’t really have too much to do with their covers, but we actually took the pictures for this one:

But here is not the place for that story. Especially since all this online praise from me is as nothing . . . Justine gets plenty of that in the real world. All that matters now is a big hit count, and maybe lots and lots of comments.

So please go say hi to Justine.

Elephants in the Attic

Buying art should be like falling in love–you shouldn’t set out to do it, it should just happen.

So here’s how it happened:

When we first got back to New York, we learned that an old Aussie friend of Justine’s has a gallery show up in Chelsea. (This friend’s name is, confusingly, Justine Cooper, so I’ll be calling her Justine C.) Now, I’m always trying to get Justine (Justine L., my wife) over to Chelsea to look at art. In my dot-com days, I actually bought some artworks, mostly as a way to avoid buying crashing tech stocks. So this personal connection of Justine’s was my chance to drag her around the galleries and see what was up this summer.

And the best thing that was up was Justine C.

Justine’s C.’s show is called Saved By Science. It consists of work created in her year as artist-in-residence at the Museum of Natural History. Basically, Justine C. got to poke around in the basement storerooms of the museum (where 95% of their collection lives), finding exceedingly cool and weird stuff to take pictures of. She even used a 1910 camera from the museum’s collection of vintage cameras, which is the sort of touch I love.

Experiencing the show is sort of like exploring an old Victorian mansion owned by a mad-keen collector of butterflies, tiger skins, and vitriated frogs:

(Okay, all these pictures are copyright 2004, Justine Cooper. Do not steal them. I asked permission to post them, you should too.)

This stuff is spooky, melancholy, and beautiful. There’s a weird juxtaposition between the pictures’ cool technical brilliance and the 19th-century mustiness of the subject matter. The (sometimes) high-tech storage equipment clashes with the skins, bones, and antlers, like a spacecraft built to take Earth’s heritage somewhere after a nuclear war.

So Justine and I wandered through these virtual cabinets of curiosities, soon splitting up to explore on our lonesomes. Eventually we rambled back into each other in front of a particular picture, which turned out to be both our favorites.

“I want it,” she said.

I did too.

So here it is, our first major art acquisition since getting married. It’s called “Elephants in the Attic.” And yes, those are elephant skulls, all set out in a row in the attic of the museum. The skulls look almost like something from a Giger painting to me, something alien enough to disturb, yet familiar enough that you can still make elephants out of them in your mind’s eye. Their home in the musty attic adds a layer of sadness and a feeling of forgotten history, which is pretty much what these hidden places are.

Click to behold in a larger format.

It’s full size is 39″ by 30″, which is big. If you go big, you’ll see that the skull in the middle has a tag on it. In person, you can actually read the handwriting on it, which says, “C. Akeley.” This refers to Carl Akeley, the museum’s primary African collector from 1909 to 1926, when he died of a fever in Africa. For MoNH and SF geeks, this is super cool. Akely hunted with Teddy Roosevelt, was something of a creepy eugenicist, safaried with a young Alice Bradley (who later wrote several masterpieces of science fiction under the penname James Triptree), and was instrumental in early conservation movements.

After he was buried in Africa, his bones were stolen by poachers and sold to some collector somewhere. Well, turnabout is fair play.

Anyway, every picture tells a story. This one tells many,

To see Justine C.’s work in person, go to:
Kashya Hildebrand Gallery
531 West 25th Street, New York
until June 4, 2005.

For more about Justine Cooper, go to her site.

To see many of the photos online, go here.

Music

Possibly because I made a big deal out of her excellent new haircut, Gwenda Bond has cast down a challenge upon me. It’s one of those blog-meme chain-letter things, where if I don’t answer five questions, I shall be cast into a fiery hell. Well, then.

1. The person (or persons) who passed the baton to you.

Gwenda Bond, who has a new haircut.

2. Total volume of music files on your computer.

8.5 Gigs, 6.5 days of music, 1991 songs

3. The title and artist of the last CD you bought.

Physical media? Phah. My last iTunes purchase was “Hustle Rose,” by Canadian artsy-electronicky band Metric.

4. Songs playing at the moment of writing.

None. But the bell of the Ukranian church down the street is ringing, which apparently has something to do with Sunday.

5. Five songs you have been listening to of late (or all-time favorites, or particularly personally meaningful songs).

According to my iTunes counter, I’ve been playing:
“Hustle Rose” by Metric
“Pocket Knife” by PJ Harvey
“Mariama” by Baaba Maal
“Midnight in a Perfect World” by DJ Shadow
“Don’t Look Back” by Luscious Jackson

6. The five people to whom you will ‘pass the musical baton.’

I refuse. I break the chain. I call upon the fires to consume me.

But I promise not to mention Gwenda’s new haircut again.

Teen Fiction Rules

Something I get asked a lot is: “Why do you write more for teens than adults?” I’ve tried a few times, but I’m not sure I’ve ever given the truly kick-ass answer that the question deserves.

Fortunately, writer and secret agent Gwenda Bond, who runs one of my favorite lit-blogs, has come to the rescue on this one. On top of being recently and stunningly re-coiffeured, she links today to a great essay by Lauren Mechling, about why it’s better to write teen fiction than the other kinds:

Teen fiction is undergoing a remarkable transformation — the Wakefield twins of Sweet Valley High have had to step aside for new characters that are both believable and cool. The days of nice-enough, blonde-enough, B-plus-enough heroines are over. The new kids on the block have moxie and magical powers and, dare I say it, soul.

It’s not just the world of teen fiction that’s cast a spell on me; it’s also the people I’m writing for. Teenage-hood fascinates me — it makes me giddy and breaks my heart at once. Same goes for teenagers. Teens don’t get their due credit. They’re not unformed creatures, wobbling toward sentience; rather, they’re super-formed, super-sensitive, super-perceptive. They pay attention. They stay on their toes. They get it.

(Click here for the rest.)

All very true. And of course there’s also the other things that make being a YA writer better:
a) More and cooler fan mail (with more “!!!” marks);
b) Staying on the shelves and in print a lot longer;
c) Being hand-sold with great enthusiasm in stores and personally recommended by librarians;
d) And best of all, switching from fantasy to sf to realism without agents predicting career-death (unlike much of the adult world, where readers demand the same book again and again–how sad is that?).

So, has anyone read Mechling’s book: The Rise and Fall of a 10th Grade Social Climber?

So Yesterday in French! (with contest)

Just heard this morning that the new French publisher Panama has made an offer on So Yesterday.

The French have been very, very good to me. This is the fourth of my books to be published there, after Evolution’s Darling and Risen Empire/Killing of Worlds. I’ve gotten great reviews in mainstream papers like L’Express and Le Monde, and one of my translators won an award for his work on ED. Much more of this, and I will become the Mickey Rourke of science fiction. But you can’t argue with excellent Google-translated reviews like this.

Interestingly, the title of Evolution’s Darling was translated as L’I.A. et son double, or The A.I and Its Twin. This has historical precedents in a whole sub-theme of French titling, most famously The Theatre and Its Twin, by Atonin Artaud.

This whole weird title-transaltion thing reminds me of when I first got to college. I was on the same floor as a woman from Italy. Whenever we talked about American films, she would crack us up with the literal translations of the Italian release titles. All I remember is that Airplane was called “The Craziest Airplane in the World.”

After learning this, my friends and I spent the next four years refering to all movies this way.
Thus:
The Godfather became “The Craziest Family in the World.”
Jaws: “The Craziest Fish in the World.”
Terminator: “The Craziest Cyborg in the World.”
All the President’s Men: “The Craziest Quaker in the World.”
Etc.

So here’s a contest for you all: The first commentor to correctly guess the name of So Yesterday in French will win:
a) A signed copy of the trade paperback edition of So Yesterday, or;
b) If you already own SY, you can have whatever else you want (that’s on my author’s copy shelf).

Only one guess per commentor!

My guess is “The Craziest Cool-Hunter in the World.”

Note: I don’t know what the title will be yet. So the contest will end when the translator and publishers make up their mind.

Bon chance!

Where I Get My Ideas

The most common question I get asked is, “Where do you get your ideas?”

In the 1950s, science fiction writers had a standing joke of answering, “Schenectady.” Probably because it’s fun to say.

But I would never do anything so immature. So in answer to your questions about where did I got the idea for Midnighters, I would have to say . . . Lake Titikaka.

(I slay me.)

Actually, I’m not sure exactly how I got the basic idea for Midnighters. I’ve always read a lot of science fiction, and frozen time is a pretty old idea. Of course, in most sf and fantasy, a machine or magical device freezes time. But I liked the idea of time interrupted as a daily event, something that’s part of the fabric of the universe.

And then I realized that something had to live inside that frozen time–something scary and evil and conflict-providing. The darklings come out of my fascination with early human history. I often wonder what it would be like to have lived way back before agriculture and the wheel and iPods. Especially the getting chased and eaten part.

If you look at animals that are prey (like, say, squirrels) you’ll probably notice that they’re very nervous all the time. That’s because at any moment another creature can appear out of nowhere and take them off and EAT THEM. This would clearly make life very different. You’d never be bored.

My only glimpse into this world-view was on a trip I took to Africa. I went on a walking tour (with a guide) into a nature preserve where a couple of mature lions lived. We spotted a few springboks (a sort of gazelle, the lion’s usual lunchmeat) and lion tracks, and even some lion spoor (ex-springboks). Then we heard one of the lions roar in the distance, which set off all sort of alarm bells in my body that have never gone off before.

Walking around that day was incredibly strange and intense. On the one hand, the preserve was really beautiful, and on the other hand, a big part of my brain was thinking ONLY about the maybe-getting-eaten part. Which, in a weird way, made the beauty all the more intense.

So I wanted the darklings to be sort of like wild animals: unpredictable, hidden predators that take us back to when we were basically squirrels. I was trying to capture some of that intense beauty I experienced on the African veldt. Of course, darklings also have a weird kind of intelligence (and even some phobias) to make them a bit more like us. Because that’s even scarier.

More Bixby Realness

I received another missive from my Bixby correspondent. It turns out that she actually lives in Glenpool, which is just west of Bixby. But she does go to Bixby High (in fact, she has an @bixbyps.org address, which means she’s either telling the truth or really taking this hoax seriously). She hasn’t been able to read this blog yet, because the school software blocks all blogs everywhere. Probably so they don’t find out about the zombies under the school.

Her quote of the day: “The water DOES taste funny in Bixby.”
Of course, I bet all Glenpoolians say that.

She’s going to tell a bunch of other Bixby-ites this week about the Midnighters books. We’ll see if any of them join us here . . .

This reminds me, the Midnighters fan who spent spring break in Oklahoma sent me a Bixby Spartans t-shirt:

It’s a pretty cool shirt, actually. (Thanks, Morgan!) Although in Touching Darkness, I say that the BHS football team is called the “Tigers.” Oops. Note to self: Do some research, sometime.

Of course, if the real Bixby had darkling panthers sneaking around at night, they might have thought “Tigers” made more sense.