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d_aulnoyYou know, it took me until this year to realize that ICFA and I are peers? That ought to make it easier to remember what happened at which conference ....(1)
What can I say? I love the ICFA. It was my first academic conference ever, and the first place that I finally felt like I ... belonged. I mean, academia came close, but even in academia, my interests are a bit esoteric: at ICFA, I can't so much as turn around without bumping into someone to talk troll (tanuki? Tisiphone? fill in the alliterative of your choice) with. Of course, this year, getting there was half the battle ....
The quarter system has been a little jarring this year - I'm not "supposed" to be stressed out about submitting grades for another month, damnit! - and the universe added insult to injury when it came time to ICFA, given that my finals were scheduled for the 18th, and the opening ceremonies of the conference for the 19th. So my day went sort of like frantically finish grading-> go to campus to give finals -> give finals, collect a literal 10 lbs+ of papers -> drive home, experience epiphany about paper-> finish typing up paper at 2 in the morning -> pack, including papers, hit bed at 3-> be stricken with the ominous realization that three hours of sleep can be had, tops, and that, hey! the insomnia is back.
So I flew in on 2 hours or so of sleep. And my 6 hour-long flight was filled with cheerleaders.
No, seriously. Literal cheerleaders. In uniforms. From high school. Apparently, they were having their con one hotel over from us. Awesome.
What can I say? I love the ICFA. It was my first academic conference ever, and the first place that I finally felt like I ... belonged. I mean, academia came close, but even in academia, my interests are a bit esoteric: at ICFA, I can't so much as turn around without bumping into someone to talk troll (tanuki? Tisiphone? fill in the alliterative of your choice) with. Of course, this year, getting there was half the battle ....
The quarter system has been a little jarring this year - I'm not "supposed" to be stressed out about submitting grades for another month, damnit! - and the universe added insult to injury when it came time to ICFA, given that my finals were scheduled for the 18th, and the opening ceremonies of the conference for the 19th. So my day went sort of like frantically finish grading-> go to campus to give finals -> give finals, collect a literal 10 lbs+ of papers -> drive home, experience epiphany about paper-> finish typing up paper at 2 in the morning -> pack, including papers, hit bed at 3-> be stricken with the ominous realization that three hours of sleep can be had, tops, and that, hey! the insomnia is back.
So I flew in on 2 hours or so of sleep. And my 6 hour-long flight was filled with cheerleaders.
No, seriously. Literal cheerleaders. In uniforms. From high school. Apparently, they were having their con one hotel over from us. Awesome.
Did I mention that I forgot my earplugs? So, yeah, that was fun. But, luckily, I arrived at the new hotel in time to scarf down some raw fish and replenish my protein enough to enjoy the opening reception: said reception was marvelous. Many old friends were seen, and many old friends were filled in on the events of the last year: I'd say general reaction can be summed up as, "Say what, now?" Which amused me.
Thursday started off slowly when I realized that I'd foolishly forgotten to purchase a banquet ticket for the Guest Writer luncheon (I still have no idea how I did that), but improved rapidly when Javier spotted me gnawing at my lonely burger: Javier's one of my favorite people in the SF community, and gave me awesomely valuable advise when I was just starting out, and it was great to catch up (and get tips on running a journal:erzebet, let us get in touch!). It progressed delightfully with a pedagogical paper titled, "No, Really: What do you Teach?" by Jennifer Gunnell, an overview of Kali in modern fantasy by Stephanie Vianelli, and a panel on Children's Lit. and the Sublime chock-full of brilliance. Interestingly, one of the commentators pointed out the near anti-sublime qualities of the genre of girl's historical novels, many of which white-wash their source material: I was a bit too jet-lagged to realize where my exception-that-proves-the-rule reaction came from, and then I remembered; The Green Glass Sea. Seriously, you want some horror with your wonder? Go read that. Ellen Klages is one of my favorite people, but beyond that, she's one of my favorite writers. The first piece of hers that I ever read was "Guy's Day Out" as a print-out by the pool an ICFA or two ago, and when I say "read," I mean "bawled over in public." I'm not particularly sentimental: most of my tears of of the "of rage" variety, but that story really hit me where I lived. It's one of the most poignantly heart-breaking things that I've ever read, perfectly balanced between sorrow and joy and horror, and, while you'd think a writer would be lucky to pull that off once, she does it every damned time. I was lucky enough to grab a copy of Portable Childhoods in the book room, and damned if the bulk of the stories don't achieve the same effect: the title story is the only thing I've ever seen (beyond an actual really cute kid) that's made me want to spawn, "Triangle" is a terrifying commentary on how those who forget the past (or take it for granted) are doomed to repeat it, and "The Green Glass Sea," the story that grows into the novel, leaves you with a knot in your stomach for the ignorance and innocence and legacy that its characters will carry. So, yeah. Go read that.
I had a pretty good run in the book-room overall, actually: I managed to score copies of Midnight Never Come and Rhetorics of Fantasy! I proceeded to stay up way too late to finish that former, and my admiration knows no bounds: I lovedswan_tower's first two books, but I loved them for their commentary on gender expectations and identity formation and reconciling the two halves of the self that can sometimes be so distant from one another, for their creative world-building and their religious implications: in some ways, they almost struck me as sf in fantastic dress. Midnight Never Come, now? This is an outpost of familiar territory that manages to expand its boundaries, and it is magnificently done: those of you who like Judith Tarr, Lisa Goldstein, or Elizabeth Bear's work are going to flip over this. It's meticulously well researched, and it brings the Elizabethan age to glowing life without sacrificing originality: the structure of the Faerie Court is terrifically well-thought out. However, suckers, you will have to wait until June 9th, as I got an ARC. Nyah-nyah! (2)
I've yet to sink my teeth into RoF (I figured doing so before grading would just ... delay the grading), but I very much enjoyed the chance to talk tofjm over dinner on Thursday, and even more so the presentation of the findings of the survey which will be published in Intergalactic Playground: the results are intriguing, and in spots, surprising. The one that stuck with me concerned the gateway age for SF readers: it's commonly speculated to be in the 12-15 age range, but Farah's finding's put it closer to 8-10. I am suddenly that much more invested in finding good SF to incorporate into my children's lit classes .....
On Friday, I got up early to chair a panel: Melissa Adams and Daryl Richot spoke on George MacDonald and C.S. Lewis, and Chieh-Lan (Winnie) Li addressed The Watertower: though it might seem that one of these papers is not like the others, they were an excellent fit in the ways in which they each addressed their texts. And, Greer Watson showed up to present me with gifts -papajoemambo continued last year's generosity by sending along the Spiderman fairy tales and a copy of Mouseguard as a wedding present - thank you so much! Now that I'm done with the grading, I can't wait to jump into these. The day progressed with fun presentations - Twincest! BPAL! savageseraph!- and concluded with a fun dinner with the people who I like to call The Smokers Club: we went to a Bennighan's (my first time! awwwww) (Interestingly, the new hotel is surrounded by scores and scores of chain restaurants, which provide you with a plethora of completely identical dining options. There is, thankfully, no actual Scores (a terrible low-rent strip club from the area where I grew up), but there is a Hooter's. I did not visit the Hooter's, though I hear many of my compatriots did. You know who you are.) Dinner with the Smoker's Club is always fantastic: Judy's quite possibly hands-down the sweetest person I know at ICFA, and that's a spot with a lot of contenders, and AP's irreverent brand of humor makes it impossible to be bored. Or, occasionally, not horrified.
And Saturday, I presented ... now, initially, our session chair e-mailed us with the news that one of our panelists had dropped out, and though I was dissapointed (one less great paper), I have to admit, I was a little relieved (chronic overwriting). And then when I over-wrote my paper, I realized I'd have to steal away to edit the 18 page monster down to a managable 25 minutes. But by the time of the poolside Locus photo, I had that sucker down to 25 minutes, and lo, I was much relieved! That was when the fabulous Michael Levy sidled up to me and mentioned that we'd be on the panel together, as he'd been re-slotted to join us!
Panic. Because, yay, chance to hear the brilliant Levy speak! Woe, because I suddenly had to cut another 5 minutes. But I went, I edited, I conquered, and I had a 20 minute presentation by the time of the panel. The panel went ... beautifully.
Now, to start, Joe, our inimitable Children's Lit Division head (and my colleague at SB) came up to the table to where I was shuffling papers to ask if I'd checked my e-mail at the con. In point of fact, I had not, because internet access was 69 cents a minute, and ... no. I love you guys here on LJ and all, but not at those rates. Thing is, I should have, because it turns out I'd been accepted for an MLA paper. Whoopee! Talk about starting the session on the right foot ....
In my paper, I was arguing that Alice had indubitably aged in the course of her 145 years in existence, from an innocent 7 to a fairly nubile contemporary presentation, and that her aging reflected an unspoken fascination with the circumstances surrounding her creation: that, fundamentally, we aged Alice to excuse our collective attraction to her. I ... wasn't quite certain how this was going to go over, given that my title didn't indicate that I'd be using Lost Girls to prove it. Well, it went over like gangbusters: after the panel was done, I had queries about publishing the paper. Yay! And the cherry atop the cupcake that was my day was that, when I checked my e-mail, there was a query from Lincoln Center about reprinting one of my pieces on Russian fairy tales as a portal for a new piece on the Frog Princess. I ... yeah. Talk about your good days.
As of now, I have no idea as to whether the publication of either piece will go off or not, but the validation was lovely. As was the banquet ... there's nothing better than seeing your nearest and dearest rigged out in all their finery to celebrate your subculture. Also, I sat with Greg Frost, and he taught me how to balance a spoon on my nose. I believe there are pictures on the internets. God help me if my students find them ....swan_tower and I wandered around discussing weird things along the lines of Schrodinger's Crone (this started when we roomed together at ReaderCon, and she tells me that it has resulted in poetry), the incredibly multi-talented prosewitch put together a belly-dancing exhibition by the pool, and a good time was had by all (presumably past the disgustingly early hour at which I turned into a pumpkin - stupid jet-lag).
In short, 'twas a lovely ICFA: the new hotel is marvelous, and possessed of "DO NOT FEED THE ALLIGATORS" signs (which my sick head keeps rewriting as "DO NOT FEED THE PHALLIGATORS," which, hey, I'm weird), the people are as fantastic as ever, and, eventually, I'm sure I'll get used to ICFA: New and Improved! Now with jet-lag.
P.S. - On my flight home, there were no cheerleaders. Instead, there were small, screaming children. This is good, as it offset Klages' story.
(1) Yes, I really am this bad with numbers.
(2) You're not completely out of luck: I believe teaser excerpts are being posted here.
Thursday started off slowly when I realized that I'd foolishly forgotten to purchase a banquet ticket for the Guest Writer luncheon (I still have no idea how I did that), but improved rapidly when Javier spotted me gnawing at my lonely burger: Javier's one of my favorite people in the SF community, and gave me awesomely valuable advise when I was just starting out, and it was great to catch up (and get tips on running a journal:
erzebet, let us get in touch!). It progressed delightfully with a pedagogical paper titled, "No, Really: What do you Teach?" by Jennifer Gunnell, an overview of Kali in modern fantasy by Stephanie Vianelli, and a panel on Children's Lit. and the Sublime chock-full of brilliance. Interestingly, one of the commentators pointed out the near anti-sublime qualities of the genre of girl's historical novels, many of which white-wash their source material: I was a bit too jet-lagged to realize where my exception-that-proves-the-rule reaction came from, and then I remembered; The Green Glass Sea. Seriously, you want some horror with your wonder? Go read that. Ellen Klages is one of my favorite people, but beyond that, she's one of my favorite writers. The first piece of hers that I ever read was "Guy's Day Out" as a print-out by the pool an ICFA or two ago, and when I say "read," I mean "bawled over in public." I'm not particularly sentimental: most of my tears of of the "of rage" variety, but that story really hit me where I lived. It's one of the most poignantly heart-breaking things that I've ever read, perfectly balanced between sorrow and joy and horror, and, while you'd think a writer would be lucky to pull that off once, she does it every damned time. I was lucky enough to grab a copy of Portable Childhoods in the book room, and damned if the bulk of the stories don't achieve the same effect: the title story is the only thing I've ever seen (beyond an actual really cute kid) that's made me want to spawn, "Triangle" is a terrifying commentary on how those who forget the past (or take it for granted) are doomed to repeat it, and "The Green Glass Sea," the story that grows into the novel, leaves you with a knot in your stomach for the ignorance and innocence and legacy that its characters will carry. So, yeah. Go read that.I had a pretty good run in the book-room overall, actually: I managed to score copies of Midnight Never Come and Rhetorics of Fantasy! I proceeded to stay up way too late to finish that former, and my admiration knows no bounds: I loved
swan_tower's first two books, but I loved them for their commentary on gender expectations and identity formation and reconciling the two halves of the self that can sometimes be so distant from one another, for their creative world-building and their religious implications: in some ways, they almost struck me as sf in fantastic dress. Midnight Never Come, now? This is an outpost of familiar territory that manages to expand its boundaries, and it is magnificently done: those of you who like Judith Tarr, Lisa Goldstein, or Elizabeth Bear's work are going to flip over this. It's meticulously well researched, and it brings the Elizabethan age to glowing life without sacrificing originality: the structure of the Faerie Court is terrifically well-thought out. However, suckers, you will have to wait until June 9th, as I got an ARC. Nyah-nyah! (2)I've yet to sink my teeth into RoF (I figured doing so before grading would just ... delay the grading), but I very much enjoyed the chance to talk to
fjm over dinner on Thursday, and even more so the presentation of the findings of the survey which will be published in Intergalactic Playground: the results are intriguing, and in spots, surprising. The one that stuck with me concerned the gateway age for SF readers: it's commonly speculated to be in the 12-15 age range, but Farah's finding's put it closer to 8-10. I am suddenly that much more invested in finding good SF to incorporate into my children's lit classes .....On Friday, I got up early to chair a panel: Melissa Adams and Daryl Richot spoke on George MacDonald and C.S. Lewis, and Chieh-Lan (Winnie) Li addressed The Watertower: though it might seem that one of these papers is not like the others, they were an excellent fit in the ways in which they each addressed their texts. And, Greer Watson showed up to present me with gifts -
papajoemambo continued last year's generosity by sending along the Spiderman fairy tales and a copy of Mouseguard as a wedding present - thank you so much! Now that I'm done with the grading, I can't wait to jump into these. The day progressed with fun presentations - Twincest! BPAL! savageseraph!- and concluded with a fun dinner with the people who I like to call The Smokers Club: we went to a Bennighan's (my first time! awwwww) (Interestingly, the new hotel is surrounded by scores and scores of chain restaurants, which provide you with a plethora of completely identical dining options. There is, thankfully, no actual Scores (a terrible low-rent strip club from the area where I grew up), but there is a Hooter's. I did not visit the Hooter's, though I hear many of my compatriots did. You know who you are.) Dinner with the Smoker's Club is always fantastic: Judy's quite possibly hands-down the sweetest person I know at ICFA, and that's a spot with a lot of contenders, and AP's irreverent brand of humor makes it impossible to be bored. Or, occasionally, not horrified.And Saturday, I presented ... now, initially, our session chair e-mailed us with the news that one of our panelists had dropped out, and though I was dissapointed (one less great paper), I have to admit, I was a little relieved (chronic overwriting). And then when I over-wrote my paper, I realized I'd have to steal away to edit the 18 page monster down to a managable 25 minutes. But by the time of the poolside Locus photo, I had that sucker down to 25 minutes, and lo, I was much relieved! That was when the fabulous Michael Levy sidled up to me and mentioned that we'd be on the panel together, as he'd been re-slotted to join us!
Panic. Because, yay, chance to hear the brilliant Levy speak! Woe, because I suddenly had to cut another 5 minutes. But I went, I edited, I conquered, and I had a 20 minute presentation by the time of the panel. The panel went ... beautifully.
Now, to start, Joe, our inimitable Children's Lit Division head (and my colleague at SB) came up to the table to where I was shuffling papers to ask if I'd checked my e-mail at the con. In point of fact, I had not, because internet access was 69 cents a minute, and ... no. I love you guys here on LJ and all, but not at those rates. Thing is, I should have, because it turns out I'd been accepted for an MLA paper. Whoopee! Talk about starting the session on the right foot ....
In my paper, I was arguing that Alice had indubitably aged in the course of her 145 years in existence, from an innocent 7 to a fairly nubile contemporary presentation, and that her aging reflected an unspoken fascination with the circumstances surrounding her creation: that, fundamentally, we aged Alice to excuse our collective attraction to her. I ... wasn't quite certain how this was going to go over, given that my title didn't indicate that I'd be using Lost Girls to prove it. Well, it went over like gangbusters: after the panel was done, I had queries about publishing the paper. Yay! And the cherry atop the cupcake that was my day was that, when I checked my e-mail, there was a query from Lincoln Center about reprinting one of my pieces on Russian fairy tales as a portal for a new piece on the Frog Princess. I ... yeah. Talk about your good days.
As of now, I have no idea as to whether the publication of either piece will go off or not, but the validation was lovely. As was the banquet ... there's nothing better than seeing your nearest and dearest rigged out in all their finery to celebrate your subculture. Also, I sat with Greg Frost, and he taught me how to balance a spoon on my nose. I believe there are pictures on the internets. God help me if my students find them ....
swan_tower and I wandered around discussing weird things along the lines of Schrodinger's Crone (this started when we roomed together at ReaderCon, and she tells me that it has resulted in poetry), the incredibly multi-talented prosewitch put together a belly-dancing exhibition by the pool, and a good time was had by all (presumably past the disgustingly early hour at which I turned into a pumpkin - stupid jet-lag).In short, 'twas a lovely ICFA: the new hotel is marvelous, and possessed of "DO NOT FEED THE ALLIGATORS" signs (which my sick head keeps rewriting as "DO NOT FEED THE PHALLIGATORS," which, hey, I'm weird), the people are as fantastic as ever, and, eventually, I'm sure I'll get used to ICFA: New and Improved! Now with jet-lag.
P.S. - On my flight home, there were no cheerleaders. Instead, there were small, screaming children. This is good, as it offset Klages' story.
(1) Yes, I really am this bad with numbers.
(2) You're not completely out of luck: I believe teaser excerpts are being posted here.
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no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 01:12 am (UTC)Gender expectations? Identity formation? With all due pride in my work, hearing you talk about it like that does tend to make me wonder what book you read. I mean, yeah, I know those topics were in there, but I never think about them all dressed up in academic language and ready to party.
I admit, I've been biting my nails to hear your reaction to MNC. I figured you would like it pretty well, given that you stayed up late that first night and all, but still -- my ego, it likes the stroking. <g>
no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 03:04 am (UTC)~:D
no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 09:30 am (UTC)Sorry I missed ICFA.
no subject
Date: 2008-03-28 10:00 am (UTC)Send me an email and we'll make a date.