Tonight we went out to a restaurant for dinner. Carmine's, in Chicago - highly recommended for Italian food, and boy, do my kids like seafood!
While I was there, I happened to watch a party of ten young women arrive at their table. The first thing they did after they sat was arrange their clothing, and the second thing they did was arrange their hair.
It was the hair I noticed most. Every girl at that table did a little touch-check before considering herself settled. The ones with long hair generally made sure all of it was behind their shoulders, and then some of them left it there, while others selected portions of it on either side to bring forward in front of their shoulders. With ten of them all doing this at once, it was quite striking.
I know I have a habit of pushing my hair back from my forehead, but if I ever did the shoulder front-or-back check I wasn't aware of it. Maybe these girls weren't either; or perhaps they were. But appearances are very, very important in human social groups.
At the Field Museum they have a little display, which consists of two statues of African women and a TV screen. One of the statues has her hair up in a big tall arrangement at the crest of her head, while the other has elaborate metal neck-rings that elongate her neck. The TV screen shows people - I'd say at least eight or ten from different Earth cultures - preparing their appearance as though getting ready to go out. Plucking eyebrows, shaving chins - or shaving heads, putting on makeup or skin decorations, brushing and arranging hair, adjusting clothing, etc., etc. It shows just a few seconds at a time from each person, scrolls through the group and then returns to them a little later in their toilette until they're all ready to go.
Much like the girls at the table, it's when you put it all together and juxtapose one against the other that it becomes striking.
Boy do we go to a lot of trouble.
I've seen a lot of appearance-related stuff in science fiction and fantasy. Often it's just a description of someone's appearance, or of how they prepare themselves in some way. Sometimes it's a description of how odd humans look.
I've done this myself.
But what I've noticed is that for me it's not entirely satisfying just to say "humans look funny with all those clothes." When you're working on appearance details for an unfamiliar group, first, remember to include key details - to say "she pulled her hair back with bone combs" rather than "she pulled her hair back." Second, try to remember why we put so much effort into our appearance. Yes, it's about attractiveness in general, but each part of what we do has a special meaning, and attractive to one group isn't the same as attractive for the other.
Try to get past the general value assignment, and closer to the principles behind those values. The goth goes for his or her look for a reason. Tattoos mean more to people than you might think. When my daughter wears her hair up I don't just think she looks pretty, but I also find somehow she looks a little older when I can see her whole face clearly - less like a toddler and more like a young girl.
Get into your character's head as he or she prepares for a day - or as he or she evaluates another character's appearance. There are rich opportunities there. Take advantage of them.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
It's official! Cold Words is coming soon...
Here's a little heads-up I just got thanks to Google alerts and Analog magazine: my story, Cold Words, is officially going to be appearing in the October issue. The complete table of contents is available on SFScope, here. I'm excited to be appearing alongside Mike Flynn, Bill Gleason, and Richard A. Lovett. More exciting still, Dr. Stanley Schmidt in the September issue called it "an unusually successful alien viewpoint story."
Look out for Analog's October issue, which will hit the stands and bookstores on July 28. I'm smiling like crazy because this is my second professional publication and I can't wait to see it.
Look out for Analog's October issue, which will hit the stands and bookstores on July 28. I'm smiling like crazy because this is my second professional publication and I can't wait to see it.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Special Directions
Asking for directions is the subject of one of the oldest jokes in the book - that one about men and asking for directions. This joke was, to my considerable surprise, employed successfully by Dory in Finding Nemo.
The other night, the topic of asking for directions came up at the dinner table here in Chicago, and my dad told me a couple of funny stories about directions. I thought I'd share them and muse a bit on the topic, because it could be useful for anyone working with fantasy or science-fictional environments (especially cities).
1. My dad was in Australia, trying to orient himself in Melbourne while holding a map, but having a very difficult time. After a few minutes he realized he was having trouble because the sun was in the wrong place.
This one is interesting to me because I have never learned to use the position of the sun to orient myself. I was never explicitly taught this, but I think sometimes people just just pick it up as part of assessing their surroundings. I think it would be a very good thing for people to use when in an unfamiliar environment (especially if they have no compass). But sun or compass could cause some confusion if the parameters of either the star and planet, or the magnetic pole, aren't the same as where the person came from. In my dad's case, he had to readjust for the fact that he was operating in the southern hemisphere, and needed to expect the sun in precisely the opposite position from the one he expected.
2. My dad and my mom were being given a tour of Montreal, and the guide kept telling them they were going north, but my dad was checking the sun again and couldn't believe that was possible. When he finally asked about his confusion, he was told about "le nord Montréalais," or the "Montreal north." It turns out that there's a river flowing through Montreal, and any time you're moving away from it on the northern side, that's called "going north," even if a bend in the river makes it so that you're really going east or west in absolute direction.
I did a post earlier on relative and absolute directions, and I think this story is a lovely example of a very idiosyncratic form of relative direction (which just happens to use the terminology of absolute direction!).
Not everybody thinks of direction in the same terms. When you give directions to a place based on street names and left and right turns, that's a system based on relative direction. Some people don't feel comfortable enough with that, though, and want to see landmarks added to the description (e.g. turn left after the W hotel). That's still relative. Contrast it with societies (I know of at least one in aboriginal Australia) that talk about one's north or south foot, east or west side of the body, depending on the body's absolute position.
Then take the Montreal example, where a landmark (the river) is so salient to the population that it becomes the basis for defining relative direction!
A couple more thoughts on direction...
Navigating in Kyoto, Japan is great because the center of the city is on a north-south, east-west grid. Once you get the hang of where North etc. are, it's virtually impossible to get lost, so exploring is lots of fun. This type of city design comes from ancient China, where the imperial city was designed to have the palace in the north with a road leading directly to it, and then the cross-roads all running east to west. At a certain point I felt like I understood this pretty well, so I was a bit confused when I learned that in China and Japan they talk about "the five directions," not the four.
Five directions?
Well, the first four are North, South, East, and West. The fifth one is Center. Once it was pointed out to me, it seemed so obvious - but this view also depends on defining your center. You may have heard Japan called "the land of the rising sun" - this is because it lies to the east of China, where the expression originated in a letter from the Chinese emperor to the Japanese emperor.
All very eloquent. But when in the reply, the Japanese emperor called China "the land of the setting sun," let's just say the Chinese didn't take it as a compliment.
I hope this gives you some more thoughts about different ways to treat directions in your world, and to give it a unique flavor on another level.
The other night, the topic of asking for directions came up at the dinner table here in Chicago, and my dad told me a couple of funny stories about directions. I thought I'd share them and muse a bit on the topic, because it could be useful for anyone working with fantasy or science-fictional environments (especially cities).
1. My dad was in Australia, trying to orient himself in Melbourne while holding a map, but having a very difficult time. After a few minutes he realized he was having trouble because the sun was in the wrong place.
This one is interesting to me because I have never learned to use the position of the sun to orient myself. I was never explicitly taught this, but I think sometimes people just just pick it up as part of assessing their surroundings. I think it would be a very good thing for people to use when in an unfamiliar environment (especially if they have no compass). But sun or compass could cause some confusion if the parameters of either the star and planet, or the magnetic pole, aren't the same as where the person came from. In my dad's case, he had to readjust for the fact that he was operating in the southern hemisphere, and needed to expect the sun in precisely the opposite position from the one he expected.
2. My dad and my mom were being given a tour of Montreal, and the guide kept telling them they were going north, but my dad was checking the sun again and couldn't believe that was possible. When he finally asked about his confusion, he was told about "le nord Montréalais," or the "Montreal north." It turns out that there's a river flowing through Montreal, and any time you're moving away from it on the northern side, that's called "going north," even if a bend in the river makes it so that you're really going east or west in absolute direction.
I did a post earlier on relative and absolute directions, and I think this story is a lovely example of a very idiosyncratic form of relative direction (which just happens to use the terminology of absolute direction!).
Not everybody thinks of direction in the same terms. When you give directions to a place based on street names and left and right turns, that's a system based on relative direction. Some people don't feel comfortable enough with that, though, and want to see landmarks added to the description (e.g. turn left after the W hotel). That's still relative. Contrast it with societies (I know of at least one in aboriginal Australia) that talk about one's north or south foot, east or west side of the body, depending on the body's absolute position.
Then take the Montreal example, where a landmark (the river) is so salient to the population that it becomes the basis for defining relative direction!
A couple more thoughts on direction...
Navigating in Kyoto, Japan is great because the center of the city is on a north-south, east-west grid. Once you get the hang of where North etc. are, it's virtually impossible to get lost, so exploring is lots of fun. This type of city design comes from ancient China, where the imperial city was designed to have the palace in the north with a road leading directly to it, and then the cross-roads all running east to west. At a certain point I felt like I understood this pretty well, so I was a bit confused when I learned that in China and Japan they talk about "the five directions," not the four.
Five directions?
Well, the first four are North, South, East, and West. The fifth one is Center. Once it was pointed out to me, it seemed so obvious - but this view also depends on defining your center. You may have heard Japan called "the land of the rising sun" - this is because it lies to the east of China, where the expression originated in a letter from the Chinese emperor to the Japanese emperor.
All very eloquent. But when in the reply, the Japanese emperor called China "the land of the setting sun," let's just say the Chinese didn't take it as a compliment.
I hope this gives you some more thoughts about different ways to treat directions in your world, and to give it a unique flavor on another level.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Animal Metaphors
I'm always amazed how important animals are to us. From Aesop's fables, to gods in the form of cats or snakes, to Brer Rabbit tales - the list goes on and on.
One of the first things children learn is how to make the onomatopoetic sounds that animals make. They learn to sing Old MacDonald and list out animals on the farm. They learn about lions and tigers and bears and elephants. Children in Japan do this also, as do children in France - and I'm sure in many other places also.
As an adult when I was learning foreign languages, I often wondered why it was so terribly important to learn the names of animals. After all, when you're an adult, and you're not likely to meet a lion in the street, why do you need to know what it's called or what sound it makes?
But animals are the basis of metaphors in every language I know.
We know not only what a snake is, and the names of different types of snakes, but also what kind of behavior is associated with snakes and their ilk. We toss off comparisons of people to animals - pigs, dogs, birds, etc. - constantly. Animals also are associated with emotional states like fear, or with personality attributes like slyness.
This is a resource that is often underused in science fiction and fantasy worlds. I have a hard time imagining a population that did not take inspiration in its animals, simply because those animals are resources, by virtue of their interconnectedness in the food chain of any land. I can think of two ways to approach this (off the top of my head).
One, create an animal that is specially relevant to your population for some reason, give it a name, and then start exploring how it could be used expressively in the people's language. In my forthcoming story Cold Words (Analog), for example, the protagonist Rulii compares a human's eyes to those of "the cornered gharralli."
Two, take an existing animal that you are using in your fantasy or science fictional setting, and look for a new twist on its significance. In my Varin world, cats are symbols of selfishness, and I've also designed a species of dog called the tunnel-hound, which is associated with dirtiness.
Take an opportunity to look around for places you can make these connections, and it will help your world take on new dimension.
One of the first things children learn is how to make the onomatopoetic sounds that animals make. They learn to sing Old MacDonald and list out animals on the farm. They learn about lions and tigers and bears and elephants. Children in Japan do this also, as do children in France - and I'm sure in many other places also.
As an adult when I was learning foreign languages, I often wondered why it was so terribly important to learn the names of animals. After all, when you're an adult, and you're not likely to meet a lion in the street, why do you need to know what it's called or what sound it makes?
But animals are the basis of metaphors in every language I know.
We know not only what a snake is, and the names of different types of snakes, but also what kind of behavior is associated with snakes and their ilk. We toss off comparisons of people to animals - pigs, dogs, birds, etc. - constantly. Animals also are associated with emotional states like fear, or with personality attributes like slyness.
This is a resource that is often underused in science fiction and fantasy worlds. I have a hard time imagining a population that did not take inspiration in its animals, simply because those animals are resources, by virtue of their interconnectedness in the food chain of any land. I can think of two ways to approach this (off the top of my head).
One, create an animal that is specially relevant to your population for some reason, give it a name, and then start exploring how it could be used expressively in the people's language. In my forthcoming story Cold Words (Analog), for example, the protagonist Rulii compares a human's eyes to those of "the cornered gharralli."
Two, take an existing animal that you are using in your fantasy or science fictional setting, and look for a new twist on its significance. In my Varin world, cats are symbols of selfishness, and I've also designed a species of dog called the tunnel-hound, which is associated with dirtiness.
Take an opportunity to look around for places you can make these connections, and it will help your world take on new dimension.
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