From Cake Wrecks, a blog of beautifully and hilariously woeful cakes, photos of the many (yes, many) ways to misspell “Happy Birthday” – This one’s my favorite:
“Sometimes you can tell just by looking at a cake the exact moment when the decorator got distracted and had to take a break.”
Does that say, “Happy Bipthday Ashlev” to you, too?
More Happy Birthday, however you splel it. And even more here.
One of the many reasons why I adore Connie Willis: she introduced me to “crash blossoms,” a new term for linguistic misfirings a la the headline: “Violinist linked to JAL crash blossoms”.
A few of my favorites:
Bridge Held Up By Red Tape
Gator Attacks Puzzle Experts
Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant
Drunk Gets Nine Months in Violin Case
Scientists Are at Loss Due to Brain-eating Amoeba
US Eyes Boom in Nuclear Reactors
Jessica Hahn Pooped After Long Day Testifying
McDonald’s Fries the Holy Grail for Potato Farmers
Milk Drinkers Turn to Powder
Pastor Aghast at First Lady Sex Position
British Left Waffles on Falklands
From an article on Good Is:
“Crash blossoms are a variation of ‘garden path sentences,’ a type of sentence that leads the reader into grammatical or logical sinkholes that were not intended.”
The article goes on to quote a research paper that challenged “the fundamental assumption in psycholinguistics that comprehension is based on the creation of full, accurate, and detailed representations. It appears, instead, that people work on sentences until they reach a point where it subjectively makes sense to them and then processing may cease.”
I was asked by John DeNardo to weigh in on the forum Mind Meld, hosted by SF Signal. The topic? Favorite Genre Crossovers. Part of the fun is that I don’t know who else will weigh in, or what they’ll say. Here’s what I said:
When a novel or a movie is marketed as horror, or as science fiction, or any other recognizable genre, you expect that it’ll do what it says on the tin. You know how a romantic comedy will end: if it’s being billed as a “date movie,” whatever else happens, the romance will resolve happily. But if a work is trying to appeal to kids AND adults, or men AND women, or people who like strongly-plotted genre fiction AND people who like deeply meaningful, atmospheric literary fiction, there’s a real possibility that the work is going to run into interference. Because most people know what they DON’T like — and they stay out of the children’s section of the bookstore or library, or the romance section, or the science-fiction section.
Here’s a few works that manage to do more than one thing at a time:
WHITE SANDS, RED MENACE by Ellen Klages (Viking) is a sophisticated, award-winning historical novel about friendship and being different and the relationships between kids and parents; it’s about science and growing up and the morality of war. And while it isn’t directly a science fiction novel, it’s a novel ABOUT science fiction, steeped in science fiction’s concern for the future, and sprinkled with Easter egg references to pulp science fiction stories. It’s also accessible to nine-year-olds.
Shaun Tan’s TALES FROM OUTER SUBURBIA (Scholastic) is a short story collection and an art book and a fantasy book. It’s marketed for ages 12 and up, and the NY Times Book Review said (about Tan’s picture book THE ARRIVAL) that readers will be motivated to “seek out any future graphic novels from Shaun Tan, regardless of where they might be shelved.” (The subtext of this is that normal adults shouldn’t be dinking around in the children’s section, or wherever Tan is shelved, but that they can make an exception here.)
Disney’s WALL-E was utterly brilliant until the people came along, and then it was still pretty darn good. It’s meant to appeal to all ages, with robots, show tunes, adventure, mystery, romance, some complicated emotional truths about loneliness and love, if-this-goes-on cultural commentary, and a happy, redemptive ending.
The secret, I think, to the successful crossover work is that it manages to appeal to multiple audiences WITHOUT the multiple conflicting genre markers chasing people away. When family and friends tell me they like my first novel — even though it’s got zombies — it’s a compliment and an unintentional ding at the same time: kind of like saying, “You look GREAT for your age.” There is a real joy, though, in surprising people with something they had already decided they didn’t like.
Check out the full discussion: SF Signal Mind Meld: Favorite Genre Crossovers
Still catching up with travel photos: ICFA was great, as ever. Meetings and meals with friends including James Patrick Kelly, Gary K. Wolfe, Peter Straub, Andy & Sydney Duncan, John Kessel & Kij Johnson, Ellen Klages, Brett Cox & Jeanne Beckwith, Mark R. Kelly, Russell Letson, Nalo Hopkinson & David Findlay, Ted Chiang, Joe & Gay Haldeman, Rusty Hevelin, and Farah Mendlesohn. Nalo’s Guest of Honor speech was powerful and angry and funny and brilliant. A full conference report with photos will be in the May issue of Locus.
A few photos:
Above: Signing my very first ARC, for James Patrick Kelly (photo by Gay Haldeman)
Ellen Klages and I jump into the pool without swimsuits, per ICFA tradition (photo by Andy Duncan)
Finally got a minute and two brain cells to rub together. Here are a few shots from my recent trip to NYC, of my good-looking friends and me, plus an advertisement I just had to photograph.
Above: Peter Straub, Amelia Beamer, Jeremy Lassen (photo by Gary K. Wolfe)
Above: Joe Monti, Jeremy Lassen, Amelia Beamer (photo by Ellen Datlow)
“Still eating brains? We can help.”
I just had an astonishingly friendly and non-invasive customer service experience — except for one question. “Would you recommend AT&T to your family and friends?”
(I had finally decided to buy a smart phone. Not that I don’t love my dumb phone, but that it was time to move on.)
After close to an hour or so of intelligent, honest conversation and show-and-tell — wherein my customer service rep Mark asked me if I’d ever worked for AT&T, and then invited me to apply — I buy the phone. Then Mark tells me, “There’s a question on the survey AT&T will send you, asking you if you’ll recommend AT&T to family and friends. What it actually means is, how well did I, Mark, do? If you put less than five stars out of five, my manager takes me aside and wants to know why. So please, if you’re going to put less than five stars, tell me now what I should do differently.”
I am struck by this move by AT&T which is brilliant in a terrible way. “So you’re actually guilt-tripping me,” I tell Mark. “You’re obligated to guilt-trip me.”
Mark gives me a look of gratitude. He brings his manager (who’s half his age) over, and the manager gives me the same explanation about what the question really means, and I ask the manager if there’s a way to get AT&T to change the question. Because I don’t respond well to guilt trips in general, but what’s brilliant about this question is that AT&T can apply whatever interpretation they want to that question. As far as the board members and stockholders are concerned, we all WOULD recommend AT&T to friends and family, because, hell, we SAID we would.
We have the attention of several employees by now. They’re all asking me to tell AT&T, since they, the employees, don’t have the power to, and every one of these employees are obligated to guilt-trip their customers.
I’ve been with AT&T since I got a cell phone, and it’s mostly been good to me. But would I recommend it? The question remains.
Thanks again to Mark and the whole crew at AT&T on Lakeshore!
I was pleased to be invited to appear on a panel about politics and science fiction at CounterPULSE, a non-profit art/theater/community space in San Francisco, on March 24, sponsored by PM Press. Terry Bisson was moderator, and Lisa Goldstein, John Shirley, Terry and I talked to and with a large group of very well-read people (who came out on a school night!) asking intelligent questions about, say, how the field transitioned between the New Wave and Cyberpunk. Politics is a big enough topic (as is science fiction) that there is room to go in all sorts of directions, and while it is traditional when talking about SF to bemoan the imminent end of books, the depth of reading displayed by the audience was a great reassurance that there are still readers. A podcast is being prepared through CounterPULSE.
So this is my first novel, and while I’ve been in the biz for years (before I worked for Locus I worked for Clarion East, back when it was at Michigan State University), I’m not entirely jaded enough that I don’t still have a lot of hopes and fears. Herewith some things that make me nervous*:
Inspiring someone to manufacture the zombie apocalypse by creating a nasty spore/bug/space ray/whatever.
Being blamed when the zombie apocalypse does finally happen.
Stalkers that send me pictures of bonsai kittens.
Getting rich and famous.
Not getting rich and famous.
Having my grandmother read the book. (I think she’s as afraid of this as I am.)
Having friends and family recognize bits of conversation and character that I’ve cannibalized. Yes, I stole your jokes. No, you can’t have them back.
Bad Amazon reviews. Everyone gets bad Amazon reviews.
Small mammals, including rabid squirrels, dead bats, and live skunks (this doesn’t have anything to do with the novel; I just seem to have to call Animal Control every year). Also, we kicked a squirrel out of the Locus office this afternoon. Fortunately it was more afraid of us than we were of it.
Not spending enough time on my next project because I’m looking after this one.
The construction of the new Bay Bridge which will rapidly make my novel out of date.
The possibility that there is no way zombies can be sexy.
Being too honest.
Not being honest enough.
*This post is a result of a conversation with my good friend Liz Gorinsky.
While, uh, researching whip techniques and injuries for my novel, I ran across this video by this guy named Adam and his eight-foot kangaroo David Morgan bullwhip. It’s a good little tutorial.