My latest read for the WWI challenge is Letters from the Front: J. Gresham Machen’s Correspondence from World War 1. I chose this book because the author of the letters was an American involved in the war work of the YMCA, though the introduction to the collection focuses more on the fact that Machen later became a well-known theologian. I had read a little about the YMCA’s role in World War One, but mostly about women canteen workers, and it’s been a while since I’ve looked at American perspectives. This collection gave me a different view.

As usual, I was hoping for quotidian minutiae, and I was rewarded. At times Machen’s personal experiences feel so personal that they are almost out of time, for instance in the early letters, as he searches for native speakers in Paris to help him with his French. For a few moments here and there, at least at the very beginning of the collection, you can forget the actual reason he’s in France because you’re submerged in the difficulties of daily living. For example, he talks about the various bureaucratic hurdles to be overcome just to travel in France at the time, difficulties that I think are often forgotten in generalized books on the war. But then, bam! There’s the war! Which must have been a bit what it was really like, to be in Paris at that time. Here’s a particularly dramatic example.

I was just returning from the theatre on Wednesday evening. When I got out of the métro I noticed a good deal of confusion on the avenue, but paid little attention to the matter till a little later, when I discovered that the confusion was due to the running of fire apparatus through the principal streets with their sirens that act as a danger signal. For an hour or so I stayed out in the streets and “rubbered.” There were the moving lights of French airplanes here and there, also little flashes which I suppose indicated aerial battles with German airplanes. One brilliantly lighted plane passed directly over our heads, and very near. This was about all that we saw. As to what we heard, that might have seemed to untrained ears to be anything. I thought it probably came for the most part from anti-aircraft guns. Finally there were two explosions louder than the others, after which most of the people near me, including myself, went indoors.

…After a time I went to bed, before the signal was given announcing the conclusion of the raid. Somehow, I did not feel enormously excited most of the time. But really I had no idea of the seriousness of it. When I heard after wards that nearly fifty people had been killed and many others wounded I was quite astonished. The whole thing, though it lasted with intervals perhaps nearly two hours, passed off so very quietly. The next day I observed the damage here and there in the city.

As soon as Machen leaves Paris for his assignment, however, the ravages of war become visible all around him. At one point he is taken to within two miles of the German lines, and the first village he mentions is at most seven miles from the Front. He describes visiting abandoned trenches and, over and over again, mentions houses that have no roofs. Mixed in with all that are, again, more quotidian details, such as trying to work out who is responsible for what duties with his French YMCA colleague.

Reading collections of letters, I’ve learned, is a bit like putting together a puzzle. It helps a lot if you have a picture for reference, in this case a general knowledge of the YMCA’s wartime activities, and of the American involvement in the later stages of World War One. However, if you don’t have the background information, in this case the editor of the collection provided quite a number of footnotes that can help out. And once Machen is closer to the front, I think most readers would find his letters interesting.

The WWI Challenge

The Kiss

To these I turn, in these I trust–
Brother Lead and Sister Steel.
To his blind power I make appeal,
I guard her beauty clean from rust.

He spins and burns and loves the air,
And splits a skull to win my praise;
But up the nobly marching days
She glitters naked, cold and fair.

Sweet Sister, grant your soldier this:
That in good fury he may feel
The body where he sets his heel
Quail from your downward darting kiss.

–Siegfried Sassoon
The Old Huntsman and Other Poems, 1918

“Under Her Uniform, a Spice Brief” is now available as an audiobook: at Audible.com. It’s read by Kelsey Larsen and lasts one hour and thirty-five minutes. It costs $2.95 if you don’t have an Audible account, or is free if you sign up for a trial membership.

Also, I’ve updated the list of places where you can buy the e-book:
Kindle, $2.99; Nook, $2.99; Harlequin e-book (Adobe editions), $2.39. Google e-book from Powell’s. The Sony Bookstore. Mills and Boon e-book (UK).

If you’re new to this blog, “Under Her Uniform” is a Spice Brief (electronic form only) that I wrote, which gives some additional storyline to Hailey/ Hailey is one of the characters in my Spice novel The Moonlight Mistress. It’s set during World War One, and there’s adventure and werewolves as well as erotica. Also, the cover is possibly my most naked cover ever!

“Under Her Uniform” does not have any werewolves in it. Sorry about that. But it does have cross-dressing!

I went to see The Avengers in 3-D on the U.S. opening night, and I was grinning like a fool the whole way through. Here are some reasons why.

1. My favorite t-shirt when I was a kid? The Incredible Hulk. I still have that t-shirt, much faded.

2. My brother read comics when I was a pre-schooler. He kept them in a stack in the bottom of his closet. To me, they were all that was desirable in the universe, lent an aura of coolness because he liked them.

3. I started reading comics, seriously, in high school; before that, I didn’t get an allowance, so had no money to buy any. Before that, two friends in my class used to tell me the stories going on in X-Men.

4. Mostly, X-Men was my superhero fandom, with Daredevil second. The first issue of The Avengers which I sought out and read was a back issue – the one in which Hank McCoy, aka Beast, joined The Avengers. I read many more, subsequently, from different eras, though I didn’t collect it regularly.

5. My mother would drive me to the comics shop every week on new comics day. I love that she did that for me, and would sometimes give me an extra dollar or so if there was something I absolutely had to have but couldn’t afford.

6. I stopped reading comics regularly at some point in college. I just didn’t have time any more, and reading them in big batches at winter break just wasn’t the same as getting a fix every week.

7. I really like print collections of various storylines. You can catch up a lot that way.

8. I remember the character Hawkeye from when I used to buy West Coast Avengers. Later on, I didn’t much like some of the things various writers did with his character, but I always had a thing for archers! (Him and Green Arrow, both.)

9. My favorite song when I was a little kid, thanks to my brother? “Iron Man,” by Black Sabbath.

10. I have never sold my comic collection. Not a single issue. Not even my first edition, mint set of Watchmen.

I bet you thought I was done with talking about The Windflower by Laura London. But how could I be done when I have not yet talked about Rand Morgan, Pirate Extraordinaire?

I loved the sheer over-the-top pirateness of Rand’s characterization.

Rand Morgan. They say he wore an emerald slit from the belly of a priest when that unfortunate divine had swallowed it to prevent its theft. Ten years ago the Queen Anne had disappeared without a trace, and whispers said that Morgan had seized a fortune in bullion from her hold and then locked her captain and crew in the first mate’s cabin, setting the decks ablaze and leaving the men inside to a flaming grave. And just last October the Black Joke had seized an unarmed merchant ship and taken from it the governor of South Carolina and his five-year-old son, holding them at cost of their lives until the governor’s distraught wife had gathered a ransom of fifteen thousand dollars.

This is how Merry, the narrator, sees him.

He was tall enough to have to stoop slightly as he entered, and he had black, heavy-lidded, deep-set eyes, which looked around the room seeing no one, seeing everyone, intense and sleepy at the same time. The face was impassive, as if carved in stone, with heavy cheekbones and a broad brow; it was a face made to split the sea air and crash the waves of fortune’s hurricane. His long hair was midnight black, thick and unruly on his brow, and of the same hue as his silk shirt. There was an aura about him—an air of the craftsman, one whose mastery of certain skills made him indifferent to the judgments of the uninitiated. That is what frightened Merry the most—his indifference. He didn’t look evil, only as if he did not care.

One might be forgiven for assuming he will become the hero of the piece…alas, you would be wrong. He never even gets a secondary-plot romance, which is a great pity because he’s such a wonderfully ambiguous characters. His morality is dubious for a large portion of the novel, and even though he’s eventually revealed to be a privateer rather than an out-and-out pirate, it’s clear that he occasionally slips to the side of lawlessness. It’s also unclear, at first anyway, whether he purchased the boy Cat from a brothel to be his love slave (he didn’t) or whether he is willing to kill the heroine, Merry (he doesn’t kill her).

I would be quite willing to read a sequel featuring Rand; preferably Cat would be in the story, too, unless he was off having his own adventures in another sequel. Except…I think Rand would lose a lot of his edge were he in a romantic relationship. It would take some work for me to find him just as intriguing as he is in The Windflower while at the same time making me feel sympathetic towards his relationship. And of course, a very special heroine would be required. Preferably, she would be a pirate, too. Though a time-traveling FBI agent might be acceptable. Or a woman who fought in the American Revolution, dressed as a man. Or….

I still haven’t decided who would be suitable as “fantasy casting” for Rand Morgan. Any suggestions?

Fratelli
Mariano il 15 luglio 1916

Di che reggimento siete
fratelli?

Parola tremante
nella notte

Foglia appena nata

Nell’aria spasimante
involontaria rivolta
dell’uomo presente alla sua
fragilità

Fratelli

– Giuseppe Ungaretti

The Avengers movie is out today!

For those who don’t remember Hailey, or didn’t read The Moonlight Mistress, I thought I’d post a little excerpt to remind you of who she is.

She’s currently the star of Under Her Uniform, a Spice Brief. Go here for the Harlequin e-book store to buy for $2.39. Nook edition and Kindle edition are $2.99. Mills and Boon e-book (UK).

This excerpt, however, is from The Moonlight Mistress. It does contain a spoiler for that book.

#

“Sister, I hate to bother you, but–”

Lucilla turned and stared. “You’re still here?” she asked. Her helper was the captain from earlier in the evening, whom she’d been too distracted to speak to. He must truly be desperate, to help her with some of her nastier tasks. She said, “One of the porters could probably have told you where to find the boy. Aren’t you due back at your battalion?” She peered more closely at his cap badge. He was from Crispin’s regiment. A momentary rush of cold fear took her breath, until she realized that if the captain had brought bad news, he would have said so immediately upon arrival.

“Sister, may I speak to you privately? Briefly,” he added. “Very briefly.”

He’d helped her when he didn’t have to do so. Most wouldn’t have bothered; they would have gone to Matron and demanded. Lucilla sighed. She ought to reinforce good behavior. “Outside,” she said. “Only for a moment. But I have to wash first. You’d better wash, too.”

Chill had descended with the night. The air outside smelled clean, though, which improved her mood immeasurably. She pressed her hands in the small of her back and stretched, looking up at the stars. If not for the shelling, and her importunate visitor, it might have been a lovely night.

“I wasn’t able to find Hailey in any of the wards,” the captain said. “It’s important that I locate him.”

He’d washed his face as well as his hands; his cropped coppery hair looked as if he’d run wet fingers through it. Outside in the clean air, she was more aware of the scents that clung to him: dirt and sweat and gunpowder, all layered beneath the strong soap they used in the hospital. She noticed sharply angled eyebrows, freckles, a long nose, a lush mouth that looked as if it belonged on a woman but wasn’t the least bit feminine. His stance and facial expression made her imagine he didn’t have much trouble obtaining the loyalty of his men. Perhaps that loyalty went both ways.

“You’re sure he was sent here?” she asked.

“Absolutely. He was wounded this morning, in the arm, and my sergeant saw him on a truck heading here. Sister–I didn’t catch your name–”

“Daglish,” she said. “And you?”

He looked at her strangely for a moment, his nostrils flaring, then said, “Ashby, Noel Ashby.” He stuck out his hand. She shook it; he didn’t let go as he continued to speak. “You’re Lieutenant Crispin Daglish’s sister, aren’t you? That must be why I chose you. Your brother’s fine, just a twisted ankle today.”

Lucilla reclaimed her hand. Captain Ashby had heavily calloused palms, which she rarely encountered in an officer; they’d sent a warm shock up her arm.

He said, “I’m afraid Hailey might not have entered the hospital. I was hoping someone could help me look for him. Discreetly.”

A thought occurred to her. She asked, “You think he’s deserted?” That offense earned a penalty of death. She could understand him wanting to prevent a young man’s death.

Ashby shook his head vigorously. “I think he’s hiding from the doctors. But he can’t do that, even if he’s not much wounded. He could die of gangrene.”

“I think you have a little time before you need fear that,” Lucilla noted. “Still, it’s not good to wander about bleeding.”

“Can you keep a secret, Miss Daglish?”

She blinked, trying to keep up with Ashby’s lightning shift of topic. “What sort of secret?”

“Hailey is, well…he’s a reason to hide. Hailey’s not a man. He’s a young woman.”

Lucilla blinked again. “Don’t tell me no one noticed. Not least the recruiting office.”

“I noticed,” Ashby said. “He’s good, though. I only noticed because, because we’re in such close quarters. He doesn’t know I know.”

Lucilla stared. It was hard to make out Ashby’s features in the darkness, even with the lantern strung up by the ward’s door, but so far as she could tell he appeared perfectly serious. “And you did nothing? Is this some sort of a joke?”

“He’s an excellent batman,” Ashby said.

#

Available today, at Harlequin! Go here for the Harlequin e-book store to buy for $2.39. Nook edition and Kindle edition are $2.99. Mills and Boon e-book (UK).

“Under Her Uniform” by Victoria Janssen

Isobel Hailey has disguised herself as a man so she can fight in the British Army in World War I. Only a few people know the truth, including her two officer lovers–so why can’t she stop thinking about handsome Corporal Andrew Southey instead? Hailey has to keep her wits about her and her erotic fantasies hidden so she doesn’t blow her cover. But when she and Southey find themselves working closely on a mission, their attraction–and the truth–is impossible to deny.

A sequel to Victoria Janssen’s The Moonlight Mistress, now available in ebook from Spice Books at Harlequin’s website.

My April book for the The WWI Challenge was A Duty to the Dead by Charles Todd, a mystery novel set (mostly) in England while the war was still going on. Heroine Bess Crawford is the daughter of a colonel in the British Army, who grew up in India and other farflung places before returning to England. When the novel opens, she’s been serving as a nurse on a hospital ship.

I really liked this little slice-of-life excerpt from the very beginning:

And now we were in the Kea Channel, just off the Greek coast at Cape Sounion, and steaming toward our final destination at Lemnos. It was the collection point for wounded from Greek Macedonia, Palestine, and Mesopotamia. There, post could be sent on through the Army. I’d grown rather superstitious about writing to friends as often as I could. I’d learned too well just how precious time was, and how easily someone slipped away, dying days or weeks before I heard the news. My only consolation was that a letter might have reached them and made them smile a little while they were still living, or comforted them in their last hours.

I also liked this little bit of information, which tied in to reading I did on nursing in the Crimean War:

Barbara was older than most of us, an experienced nursing sister before the war had begun in 1914. She had told me once that her family had been horrified when she decided to train as a nurse. Now, with the war on, it was socially acceptable to tend the wounded. But not then, not a woman of her class, not in 1905.

After Bess returns to England with an injury, she must carry a message from one of her deceased patients to his brother. The brother is temporarily home from the army because of a wound, so she travels to meet his family. There are three remaining brothers altogether, one of whom could not serve in the military because of a club foot, and a half-brother whom no one will talk about. There’s also, in the past, a murder that no one seems to know much about. Bess is drawn into the mystery and begins to search out the true facts, through questioning the local inhabitants and with a little help from her father’s assistant, Simon, and an older female relative, both secondary characters I’d be happy to see again in subsequent books (the series is still ongoing). The plot was notable for how my perception of the past events would change with each new revelation.

Though the overall tone was dark and serious, there were still touches of humor, which I really appreciated.

Women had been warned that they must do their part against the Hun. That they must sacrifice their men, their comfort, their necessities, and anything that brought them pleasure. That included most foodstuffs. God knew what even the chef at such a restaurant could do with the only cuts of meat available in wartime.

…I’d been right. The mutton was as old as the Kaiser and nearly as difficult, but the wine sauce was exquisite.

I had read a couple of Charles Todd’s Inspector Rutledge series, but I think I like Bess Crawford even better. I particularly liked the way the authors portrayed differing “home front” opinions- one character suffered from shell shock, another was unable to serve due to a physical issue, and both had to face criticism. I’m looking forward to the next book in this series.

Grabinschrift im Sternwald 1914

Es ruhen in diesem Grabe vier,
Nimm auf sie Herr zu Dir.
Sie sind vom Leibregiment,
Das weder Furcht noch Feigheit kennt.
Es waren vier tapf’re Helden,
Laß ihnen nichts entgelten.
Sie taten treulich ihre Pflicht
Und scheuten die Gefahren nicht.
Der Leiber achte Kompagnie
Vergißt die Kameraden nie.

Am Westrand des Sternwaldes, 1 Meter hinter den
Schützengraben, da, wo Oblt. Otto Graf La Rosée als erster seiner
Kompagnie aus dem Walde getreten war und den Heldentod gefunden
hatte, haben ihn seine Leiber zur Ruhe gebettet und ihm ein
einfaches Kreuz errichtet, das Eichenlaub und roter Vogelbeer
schmückten.
Auf einem ans Kreuz gelehnten Brettchen einer Zigarrenkiste
stand mit Blaustift geschrieben:

“Am Waldesrand mit wildem Mut
Hast Du gekämpft und geschritten,
Fürs Vaterland in heil’ger Glut
Hast Du den Heldentod erlitten.
In majestätisch ernster Ruhe
Dein Kampffeld lag nach hartem Strauß,
Mit Hurra war die Schlacht entschieden,
Doch weh und leise klang sie aus.
Doch nach dem wehen, heißen Ringen
Von Fern erscholl das deutsche Lied,
Du Held kannst ruhig weiterschlafen
Das Vaterland, es feiert Sieg!

Gewidmet von seiner Kompagnie.”

I’ll be reading for the Philadelphia Fantastic series on this Friday, April 27, 2012, 7:00 pm, to celebrate the release of my Spice Brief, “Under Her Uniform.” Philly Fantastic is held at the Moonstone Arts Center in Philadelphia.

Though the story is electronic-only, I’ll have a signed manuscript or two on hand.

I hope to see some of you there!

I’ve been asked several times recently what I’m currently writing. Here’s the answer.

I don’t currently have a novel under contract, but I am writing a novel anyway. It’s not an erotic novel, and probably won’t include any sex scenes. Well, maybe one. We’ll see. I’m only about eighty pages into the manuscript, and though I have a synopsis and an outline, and a giant pile of research material, I figure out a lot of things as I go along. My writing method is often referred to as “pantsing” (as opposed to “plotting”). I know the general shape, but I work out many of the intermediate events as I go along.

When I first began attempting to write novels, they were all either fantasy or science fiction, and I’ve been longing to return to those genres – though all of my novels for Harlequin Spice had fantasy elements, they were primarily erotica. I’m calling this new project a historical fantasy, with romantic elements. It’s set in Manchester, England, a little prior to World War One, and involves people who have psychic powers. And…that’s all I’m willing to talk about right now. I’m in such early stages that anything I said now probably won’t end up being true of the final product, anyway. Also, I just prefer to hold ideas secret as long as I can; if I talk about them too much, I start to lose interest in the actual writing part.

Thanks for asking!

Also, I continue to write blog posts. Here’s one on My Dearest Holmes by Rohase Piercy.

A Subaltern

He turned to me with his kind, sleepy gaze
And fresh face slowly brightening to the grin
That sets my memory back to summer days,
With twenty runs to make, and last man in.
He told me he’d been having a bloody time
In trenches, crouching for the crumps to burst,
While squeaking rats scampered across the slime
And the grey palsied weather did its worst.

But as he stamped and shivered in the rain,
My stale philosophies had served him well;
Dreaming about his girl had sent his brain
Blanker than ever–she’d no place in Hell….
‘Good God!’ he laughed, and slowly filled his pipe,
Wondering ‘why he always talked such tripe’.

–Siegfried Sassoon

In lieu of actual content, today I have five cool links.

1. You can watch a video of Lesley Hall’s Eastercon lecture “Invisible Women: Scientists Women Don’t See” here – note it is 58 minutes long.

2. Extruded Books: A Cautionary Tale will teach you quite a lot about the history of print publishing in recent decades.

3. Via Kate Elliott men doing hula (video).

4. Janet Mullany’s awesome Regency romance Dedication is now available as an e-book. I recommend it highly.

5. Nalo Hopkinson has a new novel out! It’s titled The Chaos.

I’ve been really enjoying the first reading challenge in which I’ve participated, which is for books about or set during World War One. One of the good things is that I feel obligated to write and post about each of the books as I read them, something which I often neglect, given the high volume of books I read and, well, my laziness.

However, while being lazy I am also somewhat anal-retentive. I’m trying to decide what’s next, the main criteria being books I already own and books that other participants in the challenge are not reading (some are following a list of suggestions, but I’ve already read most of those). Also, I don’t want to read all the same kinds of books for the challenge.

A Diary Without Dates by Enid Bagnold is a top contender for my next read; it’s been on my TBR for a long time, it’s not that long, and I have it as an e-book, which means it will be easy to quote from for my commentary. Also in electronic form, I have a number of memoirs that are less well-known; however, I’ve already read one soldiers’ memoir/recruitment vehicle for the challenge, so should probably look beyond those for now. I’d been considering Good-bye to All That by Robert Graves, but that’s another memoir.

So far as nonfiction about the War goes, I’ve been meaning to read Tolkien and the Great War: The Threshold of Middle-earth by John Garth for quite a while, too. I’ve read a little bit about Tolkien’s experiences, more of a summary, really, and I would very much like to further explore how his experiences in the trenches affected his depiction of Mordor (and I maintain that the Eagles in Return of the King are, in fact, airplanes). That’s not a small book, but there’s nothing in the challenge that says I have to finish it in a single month; in fact, I could be reading it concurrently with something else.

Another approach could be geographical. I have several books about fronts other than the Western, none of which I have yet read: Gallipoli by Alan Moorehead and Byron Farwell’s The Great War in Africa: 1914-1918 among them. The former is a small paperback and the latter is a hardcover…these things do make a difference, sometimes, in what I choose to read.

Hmmm.

I keep track of my World War One collection at LibraryThing – feel free to have a look if you’re interested. Suggestions are welcome!

Here are my challenge reads so far:
War Horse (movie) – ok, not a “read,” but movies are considered okay
The Head Girl at the Gables, Angela Brazil (fiction from WWI era)
Holding the Line by Harold Baldwin (memoir, written during the War)
Sites of Memory, Sites of Mourning by Jay Winter (nonfiction/social history and theory)

I’ve received my preliminary program schedule for WisCon 36 – it’s subject to change right now, but I’m glad I have the topics so I can make some notes ahead of time!

Anti-Heroism Defined
Fri, 4:00–5:15 pm
Moderator: Victoria Janssen; Rosemary / Sophy; Kelly Sue DeConnick; Lesley Hall; Chris Hill
What is an anti-hero, and what makes a character an anti-hero? How do you know an anti-hero when you see one? Can an anti-hero become a regular garden-variety hero, and if so, how? What is the appeal of an anti-hero? Are anti-heroes more realistic than heroes, and how does this impact the audience?

Short Stories Versus Novels
Sat, 4:00–5:15 pm
Moderator: David D. Levine; Benjamin Billman; Richard Chwedyk; Gwynne Garfinkle; Carolyn Ives Gilman; Victoria Janssen
Some writers claim they can only write short, others insist they can only go with longer works. What are the advantages and disadvantages of each form? Should you force yourself to try the length that doesn’t seem natural for you? What benefits are there to those who can successfully write both types of story? At one time, authors were told they needed three short story sales (of the pro variety) before they should try to sell a novel. Is this true? If short isn’t your form of choice, are you just screwed?

Gender-Variant Characters in Science Fiction
Sun, 8:30–9:45 am
Moderator: Molly Aplet; Kerey Luis; Victoria Janssen
Let’s explore how gender variance and/or variant/trans* characters are represented in Science Fiction. How often are gender-variant characters used for the purpose of examining the experiences of cisgender individuals? How often is the variance of these characters integrated into a character/individual level experience? The example of the former, a planet-of-hats scenario (such as was done on Star Trek) in which a whole society is genderless/gender-variant, comes to mind. Mass Effect is an example of the use of a “mono-gendered” (yet hyper-sexualized) race, the Asari. How about a story where a whole species is genderless or gender-variant? Dragon Age 2 has one of the most prominent examples of a trans* character, Serendipity.

Addiction in Fiction
Sun, 10:00–11:15 am
Moderator: Cassie Alexander; Naomi Kritzer; Victoria Janssen; Derek Silver; Gregory G. H. Rihn
Real drugs, imaginary drugs, and magical addictions to other people’s dreams – how are addictions handled in science fiction and fantasy? Can imaginary addictions be treated with real-world methods? How about fictional worlds in which addiction is not seen as a problem? Or in which addiction has become adaptive (are vampires addicted to blood?)? Possible works to consider: Stacia Kane’s Downside series (beginning with Unholy Ghosts) in which Chess Putnam is addicted to a magical drug, Jacqueline Lichtenberg and Jean Lorrah’s Sime~Gen series in which Simes can become addicted to killing Gens, Yarrow by Charles De Lint for feeding on dreams.

Fen to Pro and Pro to Fen
Sun, 2:30–3:45 pm
Moderator: Victoria Janssen; Wendy Bradley; Michael J. “Orange Mike” Lowrey; Neil Rest; Amy Thomson
In many sectors of fandom, those who make money from writing, editing or publishing speculative fiction are set apart from those who are primarily readers. This separation isn’t present everywhere, though. Some “pros” maintain fannish activity and some who primarily act as “fans” might have, for example, sold a novel or two. With the growing popularity of fanfiction and self-publishing, how is the division between fan and pro changing? How do these divisions affect online interactions, live interactions, and how fandom is viewed from outside? Is there truly a “geek hierarchy”?

A Working Party

Three hours ago he blundered up the trench,
Sliding and poising, groping with his boots;
Sometimes he tripped and lurched against the walls
With hands that pawed the sodden bags of chalk.
He couldn’t see the man who walked in front;
Only he heard the drum and rattle of feet
Stepping along barred trench boards, often splashing
Wretchedly where the sludge was ankle-deep.

Voices would grunt ‘Keep to your right–make way!’
When squeezing past some men from the front-line:
White faces peered, puffing a point of red;
Candles and braziers glinted through the chinks
And curtain-flaps of dug-outs; then the gloom
Swallowed his sense of sight; he stooped and swore
Because a sagging wire had caught his neck.

A flare went up; the shining whiteness spread
And flickered upward, showing nimble rats
And mounds of glimmering sand-bags, bleached with rain;
Then the slow silver moment died in dark.
The wind came posting by with chilly gusts
And buffeting at corners, piping thin.
And dreary through the crannies; rifle-shots
Would split and crack and sing along the night,
And shells came calmly through the drizzling air
To burst with hollow bang below the hill.

Three hours ago he stumbled up the trench;
Now he will never walk that road again:
He must be carried back, a jolting lump
Beyond all need of tenderness and care.

He was a young man with a meagre wife
And two small children in a Midland town;
He showed their photographs to all his mates,
And they considered him a decent chap
Who did his work and hadn’t much to say,
And always laughed at other people’s jokes
Because he hadn’t any of his own.

That night when he was busy at his job
Of piling bags along the parapet,
He thought how slow time went, stamping his feet
And blowing on his fingers, pinched with cold.
He thought of getting back by half-past twelve,
And tot of rum to send him warm to sleep
In draughty dug-out frowsty with the fumes
Of coke, and full of snoring weary men.

He pushed another bag along the top,
Craning his body outward; then a flare
Gave one white glimpse of No Man’s Land and wire;
And as he dropped his head the instant split
His startled life with lead, and all went out.

–Siegfried Sassoon

The Philly Roller Girls have their home opener tomorrow night!

I’m all excited. A friend and I have season tickets. The most fun part is dressing like you’re going to watch roller derby. Ummm…that picture below is not at all how one dresses for roller derby. I’m just sayin’.

You can check out the program for the 2012 national Popular Culture Association/American Culture Association conference here. It runs April 11-14, 2012.

I’m keeping an eye out for reports on how it went.

Also, I had more previews over at Heroes and Heartbreakers:

LoveLife by Rachel Spangler.

Sunrise Point by Robyn Carr.

San Martino del Carso
Valloncello dell’Albero Isolato il 27 agosto 1916

Di queste case
non è rimasto
che qualche
brandello di muro

Di tanti
che mi corrispondevano
non è rimasto
neppure tanto

Ma nel cuore
nessuna croce manca

E’ il mio cuore
il paese più straziato

–Giuseppe Ungaretti

I’m having a blog vacation this week. See you on April 9th!

A few recent links to keep you company:
Preview of Lady Drusilla’s Road to Ruin by Christine Merrill.

Preview of A Tryst With Trouble by Alyssa Everett.

Preview of Inheritance of Shadows by Janis Susan May.