Mostly this post is because  godiyeva doesn’t check her email enough, and I need her to see this link about how they have finally written a Phantom comic in which the legendary costume is worn by a woman.

I never found the love for the Phantom, I’m afraid – it was all far too patriarchal to make a dent in my cultural stash – but this review makes me tempted to give it a try. I’m particularly excited that it’s a 19th century story and that the plot revolves around another female character. Bechdelicious! Shame it’s only a one shot.

Now the question is… is there an app for that?

Karen Joy Fowler writes novels the way Kelly Link writes short stories – painstaking, elaborate, funny, with surprisingly modern sensibilities alongside beautiful language. (the kicker of course is that Karen Joy Fowler also writes short stories like this, but that’s not the point of this review) I’ve read several of Fowler’s novels now, including the hugely successful The Jane Austen Book Club (really must get around to seeing the movie), my favourite being The Sweetheart Season, about the American female baseball league during the war.

Fowler’s novels are eclectic, but each clings fiercely to its themes and subject matter, making for a very satisfying reading experience.

The Case of the Imaginary Detective (published as Wit’s End in some countries, a far better title) wasn’t at all what I was expecting. I knew it was a book in which Fowler interrogated the detective fiction genre, and had even read summaries of the plot, but somehow in my head it was set in the 1930’s or 1940’s, like Jo Walton’s Farthing… but what I got instead was something more akin to William Gibson’s Pattern Recognition!

Rima is a wounded soul, having lost her mother, brother and most recently, her father. Needing somewhere to assemble her thoughts, she is staying with her godmother Addison, a famous crime novelist who has not produced a new book in more than two years. The house is full – of dollhouses set up for each of Addison’s literary crime scenes, of dogs, of secrets, of memories of Rima’s father, who may or may not have had an affair with Addison, and most notably of Maxwell Lane, the fictional detective.

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I fell in love with the idea of the BenBella Smart Pop Books some time ago, and between actually finding the Jane Austen/Jenny Crusie one in my library, and the free essays that BenBella put up every week, I became an absolute convert. I bought a couple of piles of the books directly from the publisher in December, mostly to give away as presents. But I kept a couple for myself, including the one that made me bounce with excitement when I discovered its existence – Neptune Noir, a collection of fun, thoughtful essays about Veronica Mars.

This is one of the best of the BenBella books I’ve read – the balance of topics is good, covering the writing structure, noir influences and themes, and relationships of the show. There are even a few oddball topics like – why is Veronica Mars so popular among conservatives? By about halfway through, I was desperate to rewatch my VM DVDs which is quite an achievement as I only did my last mass rewatch less than 6 months ago.

The biggest disappointment of the book is that it was released in 2006 – after season two, but before any of the essay writers had seen the third and final season. It makes sense that the book would have been released at the height of the show’s popularity, and that they didn’t know there was only one year to go before it would be cancelled, but with so much great insight and analysis about the first two seasons, the book couldn’t help but feel unfinished without reference to that. It’s a particular shame because season three did several things to break away from the formula and traditions of the first two seasons, and many articles read how left me with the sense of ‘to be continued’ without reference to that final act.

(some mild spoilers follow)
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I had heard vaguely of the SFX horror screw-up, but only today (via this great summary post from  nwhyte) found my way to the blog of Maura McHugh, aka Splinister to read about her correspondence with the editor of that magazine, about the lack of representation of female authors in the SFX Horror special. Maura objected to a general lack of women in the entire issue, but was particularly upset by a special feature in which 34 horror “experts” were invited to recommend “hidden treasures of horror”. They were all men – and all but one of them (Doctor Who & Being Human’s Toby Whithouse!) only recommended work by men.

Maura’s long post showing her correspondence with the SFX editor is worth a read, because it shows in paragraph after paragraph, the (by now) familiar sight of a privileged person who has been called on his (undoubtedly unconscious) sexism and that by extension of his publication and the industry he belongs to, and yet is not willing to accept or acknowledge that he has done anything wrong.

You could create a bingo card from his responses: they meant to include women, they thought about it, they intended to, but one article and two email correspondences went astray, and besides, there aren’t that many women in horror anyway, and if there are any, they don’t send their books to SFX, and they don’t make enough films, and when women do make horror it’s not really horror, and look, he has two anonymous female friends who confirm it’s not his fault, he meant well…

Besides, don’t you know there aren’t any women producing or consuming horror fiction and films?

Well, there aren’t if your only source of information is SFX magazine.

I’m not a big horror reader, but I see the same arguments being used that are regularly trotted out about women in SF. I have nothing but respect for editors and other people in positions of power who, when called on the inappropriate lack of representation of women, take that accusation seriously, and make an honest effort to do something about it in the future. Falling victim to unconscious bias does not make you a bad person. There’s no need to be defensive about it. But once it’s been pointed out to you… trying to pretend that it doesn’t exist is just silly.

As Maura says here, there is no excuse now. Not just with horror. In science fiction. In literature. In film. In awards lists. It’s been pointed out too many times. If you’re still contributing to the invisibling of women (awesome verb by the way) then ignorance is not an excuse. Unless, you know, you’re also not listening to what women say…

Hmm. That would make a lot of sense, actually.

February was Women in Horror Recognition Month (ironic, no?). I recommend you celebrate by reading a Kaaron Warren novel. Or two. Or recommend your own favourite hidden treasure of horror in the comments.

Some links on feminist issues, sexism & gender awareness.

Sarah Rees Brennan is writing awesomeness about women in fiction again, debunking all the dumb excuses people give for being more critical of female characters than male (features the big spoiler for The Demon’s Lexicon):

There are also issues with writing people with disabilities, people of colour, people who are gay. There are even issues with writing straight white guys, because they too live in a world where inequality exists, and this affects them too! All these issues! That’s why it is impossible to ever write any characters at all. And so all my writing goes like this ‘the void… BLANK PAGES … the void… BLANK PAGES.’ It’s very deep.

Cheryl Morgan talks about how to get women nominating for and appearing on the Hugo shortlists, and looks a bit at the psychology that means women usually don’t get fairly represented. In particular she suggests that women are more likely to disqualify themselves from being well-read enough to venture an opinion.

 coffeeandink on male privilege & perception of merit in comics – a beautiful illustration of the ways in which some men can unconsciously discount the work of women, particularly in geek-friendly arenas. This might be one to bookmark and point people to as a great example of invisible sexism at work.

A round-table discussion on how to define and redefine ’strong’ when it comes to YA heroines.

Moving away from speculative fiction and geekery circles, here’s an interview with Natasha Walter about the return of sexism and the pressure on young girls who don’t feel they have a choice to opt out of porn culture.

One of the cool things I will remember about the blogosphere in 2009 was the amazing response to the TripleJ Hottest 100 of all time, as people across Australia responded to the gaping (and for many of us, quite shocking) lack of female representation in that list by celebrating women’s music. The conversation that spanned across so many blogs and Twitter accounts was layered and fascinating, and went a long way to making up for some of the more jawdropping kneejerk reactions/excuses for so many people not voting in female artists (women’s voices are higher… men are more likely to write/perform those epic songs…)

An uncomfortable theme that was raised in various circles was that women’s art is still seen as less, and that when forced to think about it, people can come up with a long list of justifications why this is so, because ‘actually I’ve been socialised to think that male=better/stronger/wiser’ is often a hard thing to admit, let alone come to terms with. One list that did have a substantial proportion of women was the “songs I am embarrassed to admit I like.”

Which brings me to Amanda Palmer, singing a song about Lady Gaga and herself and Madonna, apparently the final act of an ongoing debate with Neil Gaiman. It seems to belong to that conversation from several months ago – or maybe it’s the beginning of a new conversation. In any case, it’s a very cool song, not least because of the circumstances under which it was created. If you’re not already following Amanda’s blog (her posts are, this one notwithstanding, loooong and hard to navigate at times), she is definitely an artist to watch for the ways in which she experiments with form, social media and the changing face of technology and the internet. She’s basically the rock chick version of Cory Doctorow (ha, okay, someone has to get those two on a stage together if it hasn’t already happened), and its her willingness to throw herself, unrehearsed, into her art; her willingness to get messy, screw up & show her knickers (both metaphorically and literally) in various public forums that make her such a compelling figure.

I love the fact that Neil and Amanda have basically become the Posh and Becks of the lit/rock music world.

Raeli watched part of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (Gene Wilder, not Johnny Depp) courtesy of my Dad the other day, and has managed to get herself well and truly traumatised about the fate of Violet Beauregarde (SPOILER, she turns into a giant blueberry). Nightmares and all. As with the similarly traumatic puppet show incident we now refer to as The Tiddilik Disaster (frog drinks all the water in the world), she has been dealing with her fear by asking me to tell her the story that scared her, over and over again (only leaving out the scary parts).

It’s surprisingly sophisticated, the way she chooses to face her fears like that. I’ve seen her do this with movies, too, being worried or scared by something adult in them, but coming back the next day and asking to see it again. She was terrified by Spirited Away the first time (and I don’ t blame her) but now it’s one of her favourite movies.

So yes, many spare moments & chores over the last several days have been enlivened by me having to recite from memory the plot of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Good thing it wasn’t the Twits or something, at least I remember a lot of this one! At one point I explained to Raeli about how that episode of Futurama she’s seen approximately a gazillion times, when Fry and the others visit the Slurm Factory, is actually a pastiche of the Willy Wonka movie. I pointed out the similarity in the river scene, the Oompa-Loompas, and Wonka’s costume. She nodded in a vaguely patronising “yes I see this is interesting to you, Mummy” way, and I dropped the subject.

But I remember the first time she saw that episode of Futurama, I thought “Oh here we go, seeing the pastiche before the source material…” Because that pretty much sums up my childhood.

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And this is why Twitter rocks:

@clarkesworld: Three different slush stories had “hello kitty” references in them today. Hope this doesn’t mean there’s a HK theme anthology in the works

@tansyrr: @clarkesworld you didn’t hear about the special upcoming Hello Kitty issue of F&SF?

@clarkesworld: @tansyrr Just so you know, you are entirely to blame for inspiring this http://bit.ly/479GMK

I am so, so proud.

So the whole Singin’ in the Rain thing might have had unforeseen circumstances.  Just as I was about to throw in the towel on the whole ballet thing, Raeli has gone crazy for tap.  Huzzah!  I am much happier about that as a healthy dance lessons alternative.

But my daughter has been known to be flighty about such things.  Her birthday is in the new year, and I plan to get her kitted out for some dance lessons of some kind by then.  So I need to feed this new frenzy of hers.

Pop Cultch me, people!  I need recs for other films/tv shows, however old or contemporary, that might appeal to my girl.  So far, all she knows is that tap dancing is the preserve of a) Elf from The Fairies, b) those people on Singin’ in the Rain, c) the Chimney Sweeps in Mary Poppins.  Need – more – inspiration.

Ideally any recs should:

a) be in colour. Much though I love Fred and Ginger, I suspect that black and white may be a dealbreaker or at least a significant barrier for little miss nearly-five.  I can sneak those up on her later.

b) ideally feature at least one female dancer.  The example above are predominantly male, and she’s already twigged that the most prominent dance routines in Singin’ in the Rain are not the ones with Debbie Reynolds.  I’m in danger of her deciding tap dancing is just for boys and lunging for the tutu at the eleventh hour.

c) this part is embarrassing, but anything pink, fairy-ish, mermaid-ish or PRINCESSY would be a bonus.  I take no responsibility for her fetishes.

Suggestions?

I’m listening to the latest Sofanauts (no. 31) which is my latest obsession (in the last fortnight or so I have mainlined their entire backlist).  I’m loving the kind of discussions they have, about SF books and publishing and new media.  I occasionally arch an eyebrow or two, usually when they start talking about fantasy novels (seriously, if you think the only reason fantasy is published in trilogies is because the authors are churning out words to suck extra money out of fans, you’re not really on the pulse of the industry).  For the most part, though, they are cool smart people talking about stuff that interests me, and there’s always at least one British accent.  Can’t do better, as far as podcasts go.  (it’s also reinvigorating my interest in podcasting, might have to get back to that)

The current one has Paul Di Filippo and Peter Watts talking with Tony C Smith about the videogame industry.  One of the things they discuss is whether games are going to replace prose as an artform.  They bring in the whole issue of – photography didn’t kill off prose, TV and film didn’t (though they killed off most of the pulp magazines), etc. etc.  So why would games do it?

The most obvious aspect of this discussion that jumps out at me is that – okay I get that people are enjoying participatory artforms and that many are turning to these instead of static artforms (games rather than movies, blogs with communities rather than hardcopy newspapers) – but what about me?  I don’t mean the me that still likes to read a novel (but has to tear herself from the laptop in order to do it).  I mean the me who is 31 and female and in no way the kind of person that games are designed for.

Sure, there are plenty of women who game.  Hell, I spent two years of my life completely immersed in an RPG.  One that was almost entirely peopled by female players.  During that time, I certainly read a lot less than I do now.  But… the kinds of games that they design to sell, the big shiny ones with all the graphics, may appeal to some female gamers, but they are not designed for us.  As far as I know the entire medium, from its protagonists through to its storylines and priorities, is directed at not only the male gamer, but pretty much the teen male gamer.

Thanks to Hollywood, I’m kind of over media which have the male audience as their main priority.  Worse, they have a particular IDEA of the male audience in mind, which I’m pretty sure assumes that men are sex-mad, gun-fetishising idiots, and is just as irrelevant to many of the guys I know as it is to the women.  I’m not sure I want the games industry to be providing any let alone the majority of my future entertainment.

Sure, the SF field has a dodgy record with acknowledging audiences other than a certain kind of male reader, but there’s still plenty out there for me to read.  Far more than I have the time to consume.

(The second thought that jumped out at me was – seriously, there are people who think prose might die out? Do they not know about NaNoWriMo?)

I was going to tie this into the article I found yesterday about why men win literary awards, but this is long enough already and I haven’t reached my day’s word target yet.  Must write book.  More later.