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Edited by Charlaine Harris
Orion (2011)
ISBN: 978-0-575-09753-7
Reviewed by Lorraine Cormack
I tend to eye “guides” and “companions” with some suspicion; too often they seem designed for people who have crossed that fine line between dedicated fan and obsessed geek. However, this particular volume offers enough new material to avoid that trap. As the name suggests, it’s a companion to the Sookie Stackhouse books (such as Dead in the Family, reviewed here.)
The companion is edited by Charlaine Harris, the author of the novels, and she’s at pains in the introduction to be clear: it’s a companion to the Sookie Stackhouse novels, not the TV series True Blood which is based on the books. If you’ve tried both then you’ll know that they are very different. Harris does include a few nods to the TV series, most notably an interview with series creator Alan Ball. Appropriately, many of the questions focus on differences between the books and the TV series.
Galactic Suburbia – A Podcast Review by Daniel Simpson
… and coming to you from the galactic suburbs is (pause) Tansy from Hobart (pause, different voice), Alex from Melbourne (pause, different voice again), and Alisa from Perth.
With those hallowed words, the ceremony begins.
Galactic Suburbia is a fortnightly podcast dealing with all things speculative fiction, particularly (but not limited to) spec fiction of the written variety. It is recorded by three Australian women – Tansy, Alex, and Alisa – from different locations around the country, who take to the airwaves fortnightly, despite the challenges (such as puppies and babies) thrown at them by “real life”.
Structure
To give the podcast structure, each episode has a designated chairperson; a ringmaster. A different one of the three each week guides the proceedings and ensures that the podcast stays on track. Having three podcasters works well; it takes the podcast beyond a conversation and into a panel-like discussion. I think this is proven in the episodes when someone is missing. The episodes with just two Galactic Suburbanites seem a little flatter. The energy, passion, and often competing opinions of three people is frantic, and fun.
Edited by Sylvia Kelso
Aqueduct Press (2010)
ISBN: 978-1-933500-40-
Reviewed by Tansy Rayner Roberts
I was delighted to discover the existence of The Wiscon Chronicles a year or so ago, volumes which are intended to capture something of the vibe, spirit and content of the last several WisCons through selected articles, panel reports, interviews, blog entries and ephemera. I adored picking over the first three volumes and was beyond excited to see that my review of them had rated a blurb quote on the back of Volume 4.
Notably this quote:
What I admire most about these Wiscon Chronicles is not just the collection of intelligent thought, and the best example of documenting the convention experience I have ever seen, but the acknowledgement of the bad parts as well as the good – the exposure of privilege, of negative as well as positive reactions to the discussions, and the willingness to shine a bright torch on all the grey areas, for the purpose of greater and more constructive conversation.
Which I still think holds true.
Another excitement was to see that this year’s editor of the TWC is Australia’s own Sylvia Kelso, whom I met for the first time recently. Sylvia herself talks in her introduction about the daunting challenge of trying to capture a convention she herself doesn’t get to every year (being Australian) and indeed an event that no two people experience similarly. The clever thing about these books is that instead of trying to represent the convention by being as generic as possible, they instead try to share the deeply specific and personal, from a wide variety of people.
Joanna Russ
University of Texas Press (1983)
ISBN: 978-0292724457
Reviewed by Tansy Rayner Roberts
This is a book I should have read fifteen years ago. This is a book someone should have put in my hands the week before I started university, and locked me in a room until I had read it. I should have read it again before I started my Honours degree, and every year I worked on my PhD. When I walked out of my head of school’s office, numbed by his awful pronouncement that the work I had done over five years was not enough, that the thesis was simply not worthy of a doctorate because of its scope and subject matter, I should have gone home again and read this book from cover to cover before I began my campaign to prove him wrong.
(He was, as it turned out, wrong, but that is a story for another day.)
I don’t believe in “should” when it comes to books. Who are you to decide how I should spend my limited reading time? But yeah. Someone should have told me about this book.
(Except, of course, they did.)
A Cultural History of Science Fiction Feminisms
Helen Merrick
Aqueduct Press (2009)
ISBN 978-1-933500-33-1
Reviewed by Alexandra Pierce
“… what kind of self-respecting cabal would openly advertise its ‘secret’ existence through websites and conventions, identify its members through the wearing of garish temporary tattoos, and fund itself by the sale of home-baked chocolate chip cookies?” (p1)
I did not grow up considering myself a feminist; I have no idea whether my mother would identify as a feminist or not. That said, I grew up in the ’80s with a younger brother and there was never a time when I felt that I could not do exactly the same things as my brother, if I wanted to, so I know (now) that I benefited from second-wave feminism – and from liberal, caring parents. I was regarded as a feminist by at least some people by the time I was in my late teens (looking at you, high school teachers), probably because I was loud and everyone loves a stereotype. It’s only been over the last decade (my twenties) that I have consciously thought of myself as a feminist. And it’s only been in the last couple of years that I have consciously sought out feminist books, feminist perspectives on historical issues, and really come to grips with the idea that feminism is not a singularity.
All of this self-aggrandising is by way of contextualising my reading of The Secret Feminist Cabal, a marvellous book that has challenged the way I think about science fiction, fandom, and feminism. Merrick had me from her Preface, where she describes her journey towards writing the book in ways that resonated deeply with me, from the nerdy adolescent to the discovery of feminism and the dismay that many female acquaintances not only do not share our love of science fiction, they are completely mystified by it. Having only recently discovered the niche community that is sf fandom, the fact that so much of this book is concerned with expressions of feminism within that community – and how they impacted on sf broadly – was the icing on the cake.
