Showing posts with label worldcon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worldcon. Show all posts

Sunday, August 25, 2019

WorldCon report: #Dublin2019

See also reports from:
My WorldCon programme highlight was probably ‘The Magic of Beauty’ with Jeannette Ng, Navah Wolfe, Rebecca F. Kuang, and Vida Cruz, moderated by Kate Elliott. I wanted a sequel: the panellists had quite brilliantly picked apart and satirized literary and social norms around beauty, especially in relation to gender and race, and had just begun to explore how speculative fiction might be a space for cultivating new norms and new gazes.

I also really enjoyed ‘Horticulture in Extreme Environments’ (which was much more concerned with Earth over coming decades than with, say, Mars) and (despite the appalling moderation) ‘Future Financial Systems and Transactions.’

I did a little bit of tweeting.


I forgot to vote in the Hugos, although pretty much everyone I wanted to win did anyway, so maybe that’s the correct method? One point where the conrunners could have shown more foresight was the use of psychic surtitling during the award ceremony. Captions were live-streamed directly into the minds of the audience which, it turns out, simply does not work: it was like feeding chili cheese burritos into a USB-C port; there is zero compatibility. Ada Palmer was at the podium as this unfolded, and should be applauded for her aplomb. No one could applaud as we were just freaking out in deep neuro-glitch bacchanal. To his credit, WorldCon Chair James Bacon owned up promptly, acknowledging that it was an accessibility issue, and gave what seemed to be a heartfelt apology without attempting to downplay the incident.


Jeannette Ng's excellent acceptance speech. I think renaming the award would be a great start. Doing this officially would be ideal, otherwise maybe we can just sort of do it. Congratulations to Jeannette on winning the Ursula K. Le Guin Award for best new writer (not to be confused with the Ursula K. Le Guin Memorial Award for Best Novel). Now I'm going to tuck into this bowl of delicious Le Guin's tomato soup.

UPDATE: IT HAS BEEN RENAMED!

One of the things I enjoyed were the little logistical improvements that accrued over the course of the con: the visible evidence of the vast often invisible volunteer labour of conrunners. Signs spawn and migrate, queueing topologies shift, even the durations of programme items squirm, as the whole system evolves toward elegance. There were something like 7,000 in attendance, which did mean a lot of queueing, although that was really okay for me … a chance to actually read a book, which is something you can find yourself really itching for at a con!

Another challenge for the conrunners is that the entire convention centre was isolated from the outside world by an unrelenting blizzard, which took out all the phone lines, as we were picked off one by one. In the end, the only thing I didn’t get into that I wanted to was Dirk Gently's announcement in the Library which was a shame because I did the murders. I did actually mention this to one of the volunteers and it seemed a bit weird to me that they still wouldn’t let me in, but I guess it’s one of those things where if you make an exception for one person you have to do it for everyone. Also apparently it was an extremely busy item with some people sitting on the floor and at least one person lying on it spreadeagled but with one arm crooked. So I appreciate that and I hope it went well.

I wasn't too ferocious in my efforts to attend programme items anyway. Chatting to folk is kind of my favorite part. That, and just running away and sitting and staring blankly. I enjoyed a couple spells behind the BSFA table in the dealer's hall, which combines these two pursuits.

I presented a paper on Project Cybersyn which was a little rushed (I learned the sessions had been shortened by five minutes and overcompensated). I probably won't put the slides online, but it's based on an article I wrote with Liz Stainforth forthcoming in Science Fiction Studies, plus I'm going to give some version of it at Productive Futures in London next month (with Liz!).

Another major issue was that I didn’t like one of the songs that John Scalzi, author of the Old Man's War series, Redshirts, and many other novels, played during his DJ set one night. I can’t remember the lyrics but it was the one that went NYAAAAAAAWWW DOOF DOOF DOOF PUCKACHUCKACHOOKABOOPBOOPBOOP DOOF DOOF DOOF like that. I didn’t know which dance went along with it.

Brexit spread a subtexty shadow almost everywhere.

A further logistics glitch was the location of the hellmouth nearly a kilometre away from the two main sites. Spawn events were staggered so that if you wanted to catch a programme item at the conference centre or Odeon site, you still had just enough time to rush over and disturb an ancient evil. I definitely got my 10,000 steps a day in. Inevitably the hellmouth side of things was a little self-contained, and many con-goers will have missed their chance to comically mistake an actual demon for their friend who is cosplaying the same demon. Again this is really nitpicky stuff.

On the plus side, another highlight was not getting con crud! Con crud, if you haven’t heard of it, is nature’s little fuck you to human cosmopolitanism. Folk converge from across the world bringing a rich mix of pathogens and a patchy quilt of immunities, and then spend a week not getting quite enough sleep. So con crud is really myriad maladies that begin to set in, jiggling in the glands just as the population disperses, like a horror movie where you think they have made it out okay. On the Saturday night, Vector editor emeritus Glyn Morgan patiently explained to me that a serving Vector editor can edit any vector: you open up InDesign, you enable the CRISPR gene editing plug-in, and you just co-edit the disease vectors into innocuousness. So I did that, and wiped con crud and in fact all disease past, present, and future. And now I’m playing with Poynting vectors and Laplace–Runge–Lenz vectors, whatever those are. I think it’s to do with yeeting the sun into the moon?

Next year's WorldCon, in New Zealand, looks lush and I hope I can make it. It is also fucking far. I haven't yet read this year's Hugo winning novel, Mary Robinette Kowal's The Calculating Stars, but I hear that it's about climate crisis too. Obviously. Literally everything is about climate crisis except Democratic National Committee sanctioned presidential candidate debates. WorldCon seems to be by-and-large a progressive institution, but I haven't yet come across the bit where we track its carbon impact. Maybe something for the future, or what's left of one.


Earlier & elsewhere:


Saturday, July 27, 2019

WorldCon in Dublin

I'll be there. Say hello.

Saturday 20:00 - Wiklow Hall 2B. I'm moderating the 'Future Financial Systems and Transactions' panel with Shmulik Shelach, Stewart Hotston, Nile Heffernan, and Maria Farrell.

Sunday 10:30 - AI panel (academic track). I'll be presenting something on Chile's Project Cybersyn (based on an article with Dr Elizabeth Stainforth, forthcoming in the next Science Fiction Studies). The other papers are Prof. Dave Lewis, ‘No Datafication Without Representation!’ and Prof. David Powers, ‘AI, Talking Robots/Ships, Brain Control Interface.’

Then at 11:30, shooting over to Odeon 4, to moderate 'Flann O'Brien: the unluckiest man who ever lived' with Pádraig Ó Méalóid, Anthony Roche, and Jenna Maguire.

And at some point, I'll be doing a stint at the BSFA table.

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Power Couples of WorldCon: A Field Guide

Marguerite Kenner and Alasdair Stuart. Of PodCastle, Escape Pod, PseudoPod, & Cast of Wonders. Podder Couple.

Malcolm Devlin and Helen Marshall. Travellers to antique lands frequently flock to Shelley's two vast and trunkless legs of stone. But why not squint up with the locals into the desert firmament azure, where hover two vast and trunkless arms of flame, Helen and Malcolm?

Patrick Nielson Hayden and Teresa Nielsen Hayden. Grandmasters of the Worshipful Company of Editors, these two have long since stopped editing your manuscripts directly, and simply edit the fabric of reality so that they have always already edited your manuscripts.

Emma Newman and Peter Newman. Of Tea and Jeopardy. Power Cuppa.

Geoffrey Landis and Mary Turzillo. Of poetry. Pictured here gigglingly bestowing 600 feet of badge ribbons on grateful Cosplay Rapunzel who accidentally forgot her golden hair atop her lofty tower.

Jen Walklate and Will Ellwood. The Pyramus and Thisby of the Fourth Wall.

Ann VanderMeer and Jeff VanderMeer. Of Big Book of Science Fiction. Ann here pictured deftly brushing a fragment of rheum schmutz from the inner canthus of the left eye of a jetlagged Jeff. Zoom in and you'll see it's a delicate scrap of film-strip-like ribbon: Jeff's dreams must be physically exuded by a miniature mechanical heirloompunk gland bequeathed by Jeff's really-great-great-grandmother, Greta VanderMeer. Greta, who arrived at Ellis Island Greta AvantDreamer, invented the practice of dreaming, today widespread throughout many parts of the world.

Me and you. You, it will one day be recognized, did most of it.

Elsewhere: all the Podsibilities.

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Notes on Estrangement 1: Quick skeptical comment on WorldCon academic track in Helsinki

This may just be the blazing Finnish sun and that weird walnut drink talking, but.

During his paper, Andrew Butler discussed Darko Suvin -- the theorist whose ideas are totally indispensable to our distinctively coherent, and focused, and totally packed-to-the-gunnels enclave conference here in Helsinki -- and in a throwaway comment, mentioned that Suvin thinks only a small fraction of SFF is any good.

Another way of putting that: Suvin might say that only a small fraction of SFF is actually cognitively estranging. (And btw, the more recent Suvin would certainly see cognitive and non-cognitive estrangement as braided together within any text, rather than functioning as a big distinction between SF and fantasy, or differentiating good books from bad ones).

I suspect that he'd see non-cognitive estrangements (which are mystifying, politically useless, conservative or reactionary in their effect) as fairly common. I think I would see them that way too, too, at least for the sake of argument!

I've been to two sessions and seen some fantastic papers and enjoyed them whole(withered)heartedly. But could that very enjoyment point to a problem? Is there maybe a pattern developing here? Do we perhaps systematically overestimate the political usefulness, or revelatory power, of the SFF we happen to love and/or happen to be researching? And/or if these texts do contain radical potentials (via cognitive estrangement or some other mechanism), do we systematically overestimate the ease with which we may access and elaborate those potentials as critics?

To take a crude example (and without doing justice to the nuance of the papers we've seen!): what if the figure of the cyborg does not rupture, but rather reinforces, the binary between nature and technology? What if chimeric human-animal hybrids likewise do not rupture, but rather reinforce, the binary between human and non-human?

(Or perhaps, what if these binaries have become like playthings that texts can rupture as often as they like to little or no effect, while unwittingly reinforcing other equivalent binaries, whose namelessness and elusiveness are part of their resilience and power? Equivalent binaries or other structures which nevertheless are quietly carrying out ubiquitous and obscure work on behalf of anthropocentric domination?)

I find the idea that We3 or Oryx & Crake or Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? disquiet my deep normative structures halfway convincing. I also find the idea that they reinforce those structures halfway convincing.

There is a rich tradition of Marxist literary criticism, to which Suvin surely belongs, which takes as its starting point the powerful recuperative capacities of capitalism and its intermeshed systems of oppression ... a tradition which begins by viewing any object of culture as probably complicit, in at least most of its aspects, with that dominant order. Are we in danger of forgetting that tradition here?

In the WorldCon booklet, there's a splendid and indispensable field guide to academics. One important factoid is: academics do not squee, they critique. Behind it there hovers a gentle tongue-in-cheek recognition of the passion and pleasure of many SFF academics: shhh, don't spoil it for them, critique is just a scholarly squee -- nobody spoil it for them!

It feels a little close to the bone.

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

WorldCon 2017: Site Selection Ballot

I always base my decisions about where to put WorldCon on wherever according to my preconceptions has the most reindeer nearby and possibly in supermarkets. So provisionally my ballot looks like this:

1) Helsinki
2) Montreal
3) Shizuoka
4) Washington DC

... although Joseph Tomaras has just about convinced me to switch two and three. He points out, "the sight of Mount Fuji would just get me thinking, 'why should I spend my time in Japan talking about science fiction in a convention center, rather than seeing Japan?'" and moves Shizuoka down a slot on his ballot. I'm the opposite. Whenever I get to go somewhere I've always really wanted to go, I get really nervous and rabid unless I have something stupid to do while I'm there.

§

PS: From 2014, some terrorist-looking-dude trying to undermine free democracy as per: "There Should Be No More Back-To-Back US Worldcons. Ever."

PPS: Wish you could opt out of that additional $40 site selection fee.