Review: The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss

Review: The Name of the Wind, by Patrick Rothfuss

by Rich Horton

[I wrote this for my blog back in 2009. I will confess that I haven't yet read the sequel, The Wise Man's Fear. I am aware that he has written a few more short pieces after that -- including a novella, "The Narrow Road Between Desires", in 2023 -- but not the much awaited third novel. So be it -- I am not one to resent writers who are having difficulty finishing their long-awaited series -- I'm not in their shoes, but I do know it can be hard to get things just right, especially as time passes and people change.]

The Name of the Wind is Patrick Rothfuss's first novel, from 2007. This is the first of a series, the Kingkiller Chronicles, presumably at least a trilogy. The Name of the Wind itself is well over a quarter of a million words long -- which is to say, it's a Fat Fantasy, sure enough. And I don't usually read Fat Fantasy Trilogies, more because of time than any particular reason. But I read and greatly enjoyed and decided to reprint in my Best of the Year book his story "The Road to Levinshir". (Some people told me that that story is an excerpt from The Name of the Wind, which is simply false. It does feature Kvothe, the hero of The Name of the Wind, and perhaps the story, in some form, will show up later in the series. An early version of it was included in a Writers of the Future anthology.) So I figured I ought to try the novel.

Right from the start I was enthralled by The Name of the Wind . It is in some ways hard to exactly pinpoint what makes the book particularly good. Is it fabulously original? No, not really, though the magical system, while based on familiar principles, is well depicted. Is it full of edge of the seat action? Not really, though there are some nice sequences. Is the plot gripping and/or brilliantly constructed? Well, it may end up that way, but this is book one of a trilogy, and nothing is really resolved. Is the villain compelling? Well, we haven't exactly met the principal villain yet -- or perhaps we have, but only tangentially -- and the minor villain that occupies much of the action is just that, a minor annoying twit. Is the story amazingly romantic? Well, the main character, about 16 at the end of the action, remains a virgin, and the girl he seems to love is always with other men ... I dissemble a bit, here, because the love story (so far) in this book is interesting, but it is surely not at all resolved.

So, what did I like, then? I guess the main thing is the central character -- well, and the characters in general. The main character is very well depicted, and very likable, though (as with so many novels in this genre) he is rather the amazingly talented superhero: superintelligent, an amazing musician, attractive to women, brilliant at magic. (In this, as in the complete villainy of the bad guys (to the extent we encounter them), and the fabulous looks of the women, the novel does hew closely to convention. I didn't like this book because it did anything especially new, just because it did what it does very well.) The side characters are closer to types, but engaging types. I should also mention that the world -- only lightly touched on so far -- while again quite a conventional secondary world, still gives a feeling of realness. And, too, Rothfuss has that storytelling touch -- you always want to turn the page. Perhaps one thing he does is make even small events interesting. 

Well, then, what's the book about. It is fairly nicely framed. In a remote country town there is evidence of sinister events, such as spiderlike, almost mechanical, magical things attacking. In this context we meet the owner of a not very successful inn, who seems to know a bit more than one might expect about magic, and the spiderlike beings. This could be a setup for events just about to happen -- but then appears a wanderer who calls himself Chronicler, and who is looking for the real story of a legendary hero -- who, it appears, is the barman, Kote, better known to history and legend as Kvothe. After some prodding, Kvothe agrees to tell his story to Chronicler, and also to Kvothe's assistant/apprentice, a Fae named Bast. 

And in this book we learn of the first decade and a half or so of Kvothe's life. His childhood with the gypsy-like travelling performers, the Edema Ruh, where he learns to act and sing and play the lute. His early exposure to magical principles. And then the shattering murder of his entire troupe by the almost legendary evil figures, the Chandrian.

Kvothe vows to find out more about the Chandrian, perhaps at the University, to which his magician mentor had urged him to go when he came of age. But first the boy spends three hard years in the slums of a large city, learning basically at the school of hard knocks. Finally he becomes old enough, and gets the opportunity, to travel to the University. There he encounters further financial issues (it turns out schooling costs money!), difficulty with some hidebound professors (but help from others), and rivalry with a vile upperclass twit (who we know is especially vile because he abuses women). He begins to learn more about magic, but not much about the Chandrian. He plays a lot more music. And he meets an enchanting girl, a couple of years older than him, named Denna, who is hard to keep track of ... And, at the end, he tracks down rumors of the Chandrian, and an actual dragon. Though not quite a dragon as we might think of them!

In the end, what I assume to be the primary plot of the trilogy was only barely introduced. But that's OK really -- perhaps this novel is at one level scene setting, but it's very good scene setting, very absorbing -- and I think perhaps spending the first novel setting a scene might be a way to avoid middle novel problems!

Review: Always Coming Home, by Ursula K. Le Guin

Review: Always Coming Home, by Ursula K. Le Guin

by Rich Horton

Ursula K. Le Guin wrote over 20 novels (adult and YA and some that could be either) and of course many many shorter works. I had read all the fiction she published (except some stories for younger children: the Catwings pieces and Leese Webster) -- with one exception, a pretty big one: Always Coming Home. Le Guin is one of my favorite writers, and many of her stories are absolute favorites of mine, in particular the novels Lavinia and The Left Hand of Darkness, and stories like "Nine Lives", "Winter's King", "The Stars Below" and "Another Story; or, A Fisherman of the Inland Sea."

So -- why not Always Coming Home? I've owned a copy of the boxed trade paperback edition, complete with the cassette tape, since the novel came out. I've leafed through it, I know the main story is about a woman called Stone Telling, I've listened to the cassette (once!*) ... Why not read the whole book? 

Well, it's kind of intimidating, or it was then. It is, by some measurements, her longest novel.** More to the point, it's very unusually structured, as sort of a fictional anthropological study of the people called the Kesh, living centuries in our future in a much altered Northern California (specifically the Valley of the Na.) This didn't grab me, to be honest. It seemed like a case of a writer including her study notes. (And, to be sure, she literally does -- in the final section, some 100 pages, called "The Back of the Book". I should emphasize, by the way, that this work is a collaborative project, significantly enhanced by the music Todd Barton wrote for the Music and Poetry of the Kesh; and by the drawings by Margaret Chodos. (Le Guin credits many further contributors in the Back of the Book.)) And so, for nearly forty years, it's moldered on my bookshelves.

But no longer! Almost on random impulse, I finally decided to read it. And what did I think? Well, two things. One, I was pretty much right in many ways. It does read, to a great extent, like a writer deciding to include all her notes. Mind you, I am certain that Le Guin did this with full intention. (And no doubt she had MANY more notes!) And the anthropological bits are illuminating. That said, they are also kind of boring (to me.) They make the book rather a slog. There are also a great many poems, of, to my mind, varying quality. Le Guin is trying, I think, to capture the voice and viewpoints of people of the Valley, the Kesh. Which is sensible. But I don't think the poems stand with Le Guin's best poems, either. There are also snippets from the point of view of "Pandora", a stand in for the author or the future anthropologist who is recording all this data -- and these, too, though they give some context, aren't gripping. 

But -- there is also plenty of narrative. These include some fiction and drama of the Kesh, some folk stories, some quasi-biographies, and one long autobiographical piece, in three parts, about a woman named Stone Telling. The stories include "Romances" -- mostly cautionary tales about sexual transgression; "life stories" -- narratives about actual people's lives, sometimes fictionalized; and an excerpt from a "novel" -- which is to say a piece of realistic fiction. Most of these are effective, quite involving. Stone Telling's narrative is wonderful, the novel excerpt, "Dangerous People", is quite good, and so are some of the shorter pieces, particularly "At the Spring of Orlu", "The Third Child's Story", and "The Visionary".

What is the basic outline? The novel is set a long time in the future, after environmental collapse and war has led to a great reduction in the human population. There has also been geological change, noticeably in the setting of the book, so that there is an "inland sea" in the San Francisco area, which is where the Valley of the Na is located. The Kesh live very lightly on the land, though, it becomes clear, with somewhat sly assistance from fairly advanced technology. Their society is very egalitarian, yet with distinct (but not always rigid) divisions between men and women. There is birth control by social means -- their culture frowns strongly on any couple having more than 2 children. (I've never understood that in SF novels -- the implication is that that will lead to a constant population, but instead it means a continually declining population (because of people who can't or won't have children, and children who die before adulthood.)) Animals are considered people too, and live interwined with humans (though the Kesh are by no means vegetarian.) 

Behind all that, only lightly referred to, is a wider world, which includes a fair amount of high technology, notably the "Exchange", a vaguely internet-like system apparently maintained by AIs, and which has a network that extends well into space. We never learn much about other societies on Earth, with one exception, but it is an interesting question: how many other polities are there? How many different ways of living? This wasn't Le Guin's interest in that novel, and that's OK -- but it does interest me. The one other society we see is a pretty terrible one, and we learn of it through Stone Telling's story. She was the daughter of an outsider, a "Condor" who married her mother on a sort of scouting mission. Stone Telling ends up leaving with her father when he returns in her teens -- for reasons, including that she was in some ways not fully accepted due to her half non-Kesh ancestry, and also for reasons tied to her adolescence. But what she finds in his city -- and the fact that it is a city is significant -- is horrifying: it is a wholly hierachical community, ruled by a paranoid leader, tied to a fanatical religion, with women definitely at the bottom of the heap: confined to a sort of purdah, not allowed to read, etc. The problem with this depiction is not that it's wrong -- it's that it's so exaggerated as the only other society we see that it seems more a construct than an honest portrait of that future.

What's my final verdict? I'm glad I read Always Coming Home. And parts of it I truly loved. Stone Telling's narrative is really involving and moving, and so were many other narratives. The poetry is a mixed bag -- it's interesting but it rarely, to my ears, truly sings. The ethnographic bits -- and they are not just "bits" -- are intellectually intriguing, but, really, often a struggle to read. It is in the end a novel (or "book" or "construct" or whatever) that is more impressive than it is involving. It's a book I feel like Le Guin had to write, had to grapple with -- but the best of her work is elsewhere. And yet -- it's a book you ought to read.

There are a couple more things that I am reminded of by Always Coming Home. Both are post-Apocalyptic works, set in societies devoted to living more lightly on the land. One is even set fairly close, geographically, to Always Coming Home. This is Carrie Vaughn's Bannerless saga, comprising two novels and several short stories. I do wonder how much Vaughn was influenced by Always Coming Home (if at all). That society does portray an interesting future California, with in particular careful birth control, and other social adapations. It's both less impressive an intellectual creation that Le Guin's, and in some ways more convincing. The other novel I'd like to mention is John Crowley's Engine Summer, which certainly was not influenced by Always Coming Home (it was published six years earlier.) But it is profoundly more powerful -- fully as fascinating a society, embedded in a far more effective story. This isn't to denigrate Le Guin's work -- it's simply to say that something very good is worthwhile, but something truly great -- Engine Summer is one of my favorite SF novels of all time -- is at another level. (A level Le Guin reached in other work, I'll add.) For all that, I think comparing Carrie Vaughn's future with Le Guin's and all with Crowley's is a worthwhile enterprise.

*My comment that I listened to the cassette just "once" comes off, I know, as dismissive, and that does capture my attitude in 1985. But I listened to it again for this reading, and I have much greater appreciation for it now. It's a bit New-Agey, to be sure, but that isn't necessarily bad. I don't think it will become a regular part of my music background, but it's worth hearing.

**I might add that the Library of America edition, from 2019, is labeled "Author's Expanded Edition", and it runs to 800 pages, suggesting that it really is significantly expanded. I haven't seen this version, so I don't know much about it, though my review implies that I might not think an expansion a great idea.

Review: The Scarab Mission, by James L. Cambias

Review: The Scarab Mission, by James L. Cambias

by Rich Horton

The Scarab Mission is one of what may become a series of books set some 8000 years in the future, in a very diversely populated Solar System, collectively called "The Ten Billion Worlds". There is a fundamental divide between the inner system and outer system -- the former dominated by AIs, the latter heavily populated by humans with a large admixture of AIs. Much of this goes back to a war in the Fourth Millennium, which led to the depopulation of Venus and Earth and nearly to the extinction of humans. I read and reviewed the first, The Godel Operation, a little while back -- The Scarab Mission, from 2023, is the second. I should emphasize that when I say "series" I don't mean that the books are closely linked -- really, they share only the setting and one character, though that character is less important in this book than in The Godel Operation (in which he was the narrator.)

This novel opens with a team of five approaching a derelict habitat, Safdaghar, in Jupiter's orbit. The team comprise the spacecraft itself, Yanai; an uplifted crow named Atmin; an intelligent dinosaur, Pera; a cyborg named Utsuro; and Solana, who was some years previously rescued from another habitat where she was raised to be a sex slave. Their mission is to stabilize Safdaghar's spin, to set it on a path where it will be slingshotted into deep space for later salvage, and to harvest whatever resalable stuff they can find on the habitat (mostly original works of art -- Safdaghar had been particularly devoted to supporting artists of all sorts.) One important artist who was believed to be on Safdaghar was a dissident poet from Deimos ...

There is more going on, of course. There is a great mystery as to how, and why, Safdaghar became derelict -- it had been a sudden catastrophe, years before. And Utsuro, the cyborg, was rescued in space and reconstructed as a cyborg, but with most of his memories lost -- and he is convinced he came from Safdaghar, and he hopes to find out something about his past.Once the team gets onto Safdagher and starts collecting stuff, things get trickier. There are occasional attacks -- as if someone else is still on the habitat, or if booby traps set back at the time of the disaster are still active.

Then another group arrives, apparently intent on salvaging stuff to resell as well. Taking the course of least resistance, Yanai and company allow them to come, agreeing to split the salvage. But this group, led by a creepy woman named Jaka, who seems to have means of controlling all her fellows, is much more dangerous, and violent, than they expect. In particular Jaka is a danger to Solana, as she gets off on dominating, essentially enslaving, others -- exactly the situation Solana had been rescued from. Things go from bad to worse, as Jaka slowly builds control, and as Utsuro begins to learn slight details of his past, and especially when it becomes clear that some very dangerous entity has survived on Safdaghar and is ready to attack members of both salvaging teams.

The novel builds to a long tense concluding chase, and there are powerful revelations about what really happened on Safdaghar, and what dangers still remain, and who may want all this knowledge hidden. It's an exciting action novel, with some terrible villains, and flawed heroes who learn to realize they can be villains too; and with worthwhile speculation about the nature of politics in this fascinating and complex and splintered future. It's fun, scary, and moving. More novels in this milieu will certainly be welcome!

Old Bestseller Review: Framley Parsonage, by Anthony Trollope

Review: Framley Parsonage, by Anthony Trollope

Framley Parsonage is the fourth of Anthony Trollope's Chronicles of Barsetshire, following The Warden (1855), Barchester Towers (1857), and Doctor Thorne (1858), and succeeded by The Small House at Allington (1863) and The Last Chronicle of Barset (1867). Framley Parsonage was first serialized in Cornhill Magazine in 1860/1861, and published in book form in the latter year. (Serialization of novels was common in that period, and three of the Chronicles were first published in magazines, Doctor Thorne, Framley Parsonage, and The Small House at Allington.) The earlier Barchester novels were quite successful, but apparently Framley Parsonage was even more so.

I read The Warden when I was a teenager, and I read Barchester Towers last year (review here). I intended to continue reading the Chronicles in order, but I made a mistake, and got a (free!) audiobook version of Framley Parsonage and started listening to it before I realized I should have read Doctor Thorne first. (No big deal, I think -- I can certainly figure out much of what happened in Doctor Thorne from what I learned in Framley Parsonage, but Trollope's pleasures like very much elsewhere from the simple progressions of the plots.) The narrator of my version was Timothy West -- I note that Audible also features versions by Simon Vance, by David Shaw-Parker, and by Flo Gibson. I can only say that I think West did an excellent job.

The novel proceeds in several closely related threads. The primary thread concerns Mark Robarts, the Vicar of Framley Parsonage. Mark is a pleasant enough man in his late 20s, who became friends as a child with a boy of the same age, then the son of Baron Lufton, though Mark's friend, Ludovic, has succeeded to the title at the time of this novel. Lord Lufton's mother, Lady Lufton, is a benevolent woman, and she helped Mark Robarts get an excellent education, and sponsored him for the living at Framley Parsonage (a very good living) and even introduced him to his wife, Fanny. Mark is thus in a good situation, with a wife he loves, and children he loves -- but he does feel that he is too much in Lady Lufton's debt, and thus under her control. And so, as the novel opens,  he accepts an invitation from a new friend of his, whom he met through Lord Lufton -- Nathaniel Sowerby, who owns a house near the seat of the Duke of Omnium. The point here is that the Duke of Omnium is a Whig, and Lady Lufton is a Tory, and so Lady Lufton will not be happy. In addition, the Duke is reputed to be a very immoral man, and, in fact, Mark already knows that Mr. Sowerby is an unstrustworthy man, at least in financial matters, for he has already led Lord Lufton into debt, by rather shady means. Very soon, then, Mark finds himself agreeing to sign a bill for Mr. Sowerby, to help tide the man over some financial difficulties -- though the reader (and, soon enough, Mark) realizes right away that Mr. Sowerby will not be able to raise the money to pay off the bill, and the burden will fall on Mark. 

So, this thread is entwined throughout the novel: we realize quickly that Mr. Sowerby is on the road to complete financial ruin, and that he will bring Mark with him. Mr. Sowerby is the MP from the Duke's part of Barsethire (chosen by the Duke) and part of the book follows some political upheaval -- the Whigs gain control of Parliament. This allows Sowerby to angle for a plum appointment for Mark -- a Prebendary stall in Barchester -- which again, will only entangle Mark more damningly with Mr. Sowerby. (Trollope was keenly interested in politics and once stood for office himself.) This is the most political of the Barchester novels I've read, with plot lines involving multiple governments being formed (Trollope has great fun calling the Whigs "Gods" and the Tories "Giants" in an extended metaphor), and concerning the fortunes of not just Mark Robarts, but his brother John (who holds a minor position in a government department), and of Archdeacon Grantly (who stands to gain a Bishopric if a bill creating two new sees is passed), and Mr. Harold Smith, a pompous Whig (and brother-in-law to Mr. Sowerby) who wants a Cabinet position.*

The key romantic thread involves Mark's sister Lucy, who comes to live with Mark and Fanny, and thus meets Lord Lufton. The two fall in love, but Lady Lufton and the Archdeacon's wife Mrs. Grantly have long intended that Lord Lufton marry Griselda Grantly. Lucy is aware of that, and tries to hide her attraction to Lord Lufton, but any reader can see the way the wind blows. This is all resolved very nicely, even powerfully -- and Griselda Grantly, it must be said, is a terribly comical character in her almost imprenetrable self-conceit and lack of passion or intelligence. 

There is another significant thread, involving Mr. Crawley, a desperately poor clergyman with a meager living in a remote part of the county. Mr. Crawley was very briefly introduced in Barchester Towers as the friend of Mr. Arabin, who in that book became the new Dean of Barchester. Mr. Crowley and his wife have four children, and they can barely support them, but Mr. Crowley's pride is so extreme that he refuses all help, though Mr. Arabin as well as Fanny and Mark Robarts try to help, and sometimes manage to sneak treats to Mrs. Crowley. Mr. Crowley is a deeply flawed man, but a very honest and sincere one, and he serves as a moral corrective to Mark when he begins to stray. But the Crowleys face a severe crisis when Mrs. Crowley contracts a severe fever (probably typhoid fever), and Fanny and Lucy Robarts (especially Lucy) come to the rescue. (I understand that Mr. Crowley becomes the key character of The Last Chronicle of Barset.)

I have failed to mention many of the characters, some already familiar to readers of the previous books: the Bishop and Mrs. Proudie, the delightful heiress Miss Dunstable, Dr. Thorne of the book named for him; and well as such new characters as Mrs. Harriet Smith (Mr. Sowerby's sister), and the journalist Mr. Supplehouse.

I won't detail the plot any further -- likely I've already said too much. I just wish to say how thoroughly enjoyable the novel is -- indeed, I'm beginning to understand, how thoroughly enjoyable Trollope is. The novel -- as I understand it, most of his novels -- is told from an omniscient author point of view -- that is, the voice of the author is prominent, and he knows everything, and lets us in on a lot of what he knows. This sort of thing is unfashionable these days, and it is fraught with danger, but in skilled hands -- and Trollope's hands are very skilled indeed -- it is delightful. The author comments extensively on the events of the story, on the motivations and feelings of the characters, and on the moral and political lessons to be derived; and he does so with a beautifully ironic tone. The novel itself is at once gently satirical, and profoundly affectionate to all the characters, even a villain like Mr. Sowerby. It is very funny at times, and really moving at times. It is popular fiction -- of the highest order, but still popular -- and there is a sense that the author arranges that things turn out more or less for the best for the characters we like. But we do also learn, and think, about the society of which Trollope writes, and its social, economic, and political organization.

In summary -- this is a lovely book, and I recommend it highly. Likely it is best read after reading the earlier Barsetshire books -- but that should be no burden, they are quite enjoyable.

*(I understand that the Palliser novels -- originally called the Parliamentary novels -- are much more concerned with political maneuverings. They are also closely linked to the Barsetshire novels -- indeed, Palliser is the family name of the Duke of Omnium.)

Pseudonyms Quiz Answers

 Pseudonyms Quiz Answers

Here are the answers to the quiz:

1.  Two 19th century women writers, named Mary Anne Evans and Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin, each chose a pseudonym with the same traditionally male first name. Give both full pseudonyms in either order (first and last name.)

George Eliot, George Sand (Sand, by the way, spelled the first name "George", no s)

2.  Lincoln Perry was the first Black actor to have a featured credit in a Hollywood film, and to make over $1,000,000 in movies. His characters, such as Joe in Show Boat, and Gummy, in Hearts of Dixie, came to be known as "The Laziest Men in the World": arguably a harmful stereotype, though some Black scholars argue that he was more of a trickster figure, and Perry was awarded an NCAAP Image Award. What was the stage name Perry might be said to have walked up and taken?

Stepin Fetchit

3.  An important political activist and religious figure was born with the surname Little, and had the surname el-Shabazz at his death, but is more generally known by which name (first and last name please)?

Malcolm X

4.  Richard Patrick Russ was a successful writer of boy's stories, appropriate in that his first book, Caesar: The Life Story of a Panda Leopard, appeared when he was 15. But he changed his name in 1945, keeping his middle name as his new first name, and gained great success decades later as the author of a revered set of stories set during the Napoleonic Wars, a couple of which were adapted into the film Master and Commander. Give the new surname under which his later books appeared, and the surnames of the main characters in this series. 

O'Brien, (Jack) Aubrey/(Stephen) Maturin

5.  Name the writer who adopted the pseudonym V. Sirin, a reference to a Russian mythological bird, for their early works published in Germany, such as their first novel, Mary. This writer later published under their own name, and was wont to use versions of their name, such as Vivian Darkbloom, as characters in their novels.

Vladimir Nabokov

6.  One of the most famous pseudonyms in contemporary literature is that of the author of the Neopolitan novels, a four book series beginning with My Brilliant Friend. This author still refuses to reveal her true identity, leading to many speculations, including one that she was actually a man, a claim the author strongly denies. Under what name are the Neopolitan novels published?

Elena Ferrante

7.  Sometimes authors choose a pseudonym when they write in a different genre from their usual. Which renowned mystery writer published such novels as Absent in the Spring and The Rose and the Yew Tree, which were not mysteries but general fiction (with occasional romantic themes), as by "Mary Westmacott"?

Agatha Christie

8.  Many actors use names that differ from their birth names (think Marion Morrison and Norma Jean Mortenson) but this seems less common for directors. However, one John Martin Feeney became one of the most celebrated directors of all time, winner of four Oscars for Best Director. If his pseudonym was intended to conceal his Irish ancestry, surely he risked exposing that with one of his better known films, The Quiet Man. What was the name John Martin Feeney used professionally?

John Ford

9.  A woman possibly named Fujiwara no Kaoriko wrote a long novel generally regarded as one of the first novels in history. By what name is this author usually known, a descriptive name, bestowed on her during her service as a lady-in-waiting?

(Lady) Murasaki/Murasaki Shikibu

10.  The great French singer born Edith Gassion presumably did not regret adopting this pseudonym, which is usually translated as what bird in English, based on French slang? (Give either the pseudonym or the English word for the bird.)

Edith Piaf (the Little Sparrow)

11.  A common reason for using a pseudonym is to conceal your side hustle from your main employer. P. M. A. Linebarger was a professor in Asiatic Studies at Johns Hopkins, a reserve Army officer, and an expert in psychological warfare (but never a shoemaker nor a metalworker!). He also wrote some of the most individual science fiction of the 20th Century, such as "Scanners Live in Vain", under which pseudonym (first and last name please)?

Cordwainer Smith

12.  The woman born Paulette Williams rejected her patriarchal name (Paulette) and slave name (Williams) and took a new name, based on Xhosa and Zulu words meaning "She who comes with her own things" and "She who walks like a lion". Give this new name, under which she wrote novels such as Liliane, poetry, and plays like the 1975 Emmy- and Grammy-nominated "choreopoem" for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf.

Ntozake Shange

13. The science fiction writer Theodore Sturgeon, author of More Than Human, was born with a different name. Give his last name at birth -- a name which may have been the inspiration for the title character's name in a certain story by Sturgeon's friend Robert Heinlein -- and Heinlein's character's name became an English word for remote handling devices.

Waldo

14. Portugal's Fernando Pessoa may have used more pseudonyms than any other writer, though he regarded them as individuals of their own, with different biographies and views, and he called them "heteronyms". One of the most famous of his heteronyms even inspired a novel by another of Portugal's greatest writers, called The Year of the Death of [redacted]. Give either the redacted name of this particular heteronym, or the Nobel Prize winner who wrote the novel.

Ricardo Reis/Jose Saramago

15. Science fiction and crime writer Stephen Robinett published his first several stories and the serial version of his first novel (Stargate) as by "Tak Hallus", a name derived from a Persian, Urdu, and Hindi word (itself imported from Arabic) which has what appropriate meaning?

Pseudonym/Pen Name

16. A Science Fiction Writers of America Grand Master published some stories and a few of her novels as by "Andrew North", presumably because her audience for these books was felt to be boys. Ironically, her first name was also traditionally male -- because she had adopted it at first as a pseudonym for her early novels, but then legally changed her name? What was her full name, either at birth, or after her name change?

Alice Mary Norton/Andre Norton

Pseudonyms Quiz

Pseudonyms Quiz

As I've mentioned before, I'm in an online trivia league, and I have occasionally written quizzes for that league. My previous quizzes were very Science Fiction-centric, but this year I did one that focuses more generally on pseudonyms -- including, in some cases, names that people chose for themselves and legally adopted. The quiz as presented included the first 12 questions here, but I've added four more questions, rejected during the prep stage in part because they might have played too hard (for a general audience) and in part because I wanted to avoid having too many SF questions.

Most of these questions are about writers, but there are some from the film world, one singer, and one more politically-oriented individual. I'll have answers in a couple of days. If you wish, leave your guess in the comments. [The answers have now been posted here.]

1.  Two 19th century women writers, named Mary Anne Evans and Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin, each chose a pseudonym with the same traditionally male first name. Give both full pseudonyms in either order (first and last name.)

2.  Lincoln Perry was the first Black actor to have a featured credit in a Hollywood film, and to make over $1,000,000 in movies. His characters, such as Joe in Show Boat, and Gummy, in Hearts of Dixie, came to be known as "The Laziest Men in the World": arguably a harmful stereotype, though some Black scholars argue that he was more of a trickster figure, and Perry was awarded an NCAAP Image Award. What was the stage name Perry might be said to have walked up and taken?

3.  An important political activist and religious figure was born with the surname Little, and had the surname el-Shabazz at his death, but is more generally known by which name (first and last name please)?

4.  Richard Patrick Russ was a successful writer of boy's stories, appropriate in that his first book, Caesar: The Life Story of a Panda Leopard, appeared when he was 15. But he changed his name in 1945, keeping his middle name as his new first name, and gained great success decades later as the author of a revered set of stories set during the Napoleonic Wars, a couple of which were adapted into the film Master and Commander. Give the new surname under which his later books appeared, and the surnames of the main characters in this series. 

5.  Name the writer who adopted the pseudonym V. Sirin, a reference to a Russian mythological bird, for their early works published in Germany, such as their first novel, Mary. This writer later published under their own name, and was wont to use versions of their name, such as Vivian Darkbloom, as characters in their novels.

6.  One of the most famous pseudonyms in contemporary literature is that of the author of the Neopolitan novels, a four book series beginning with My Brilliant Friend. This author still refuses to reveal her true identity, leading to many speculations, including one that she was actually a man, a claim the author strongly denies. Under what name are the Neopolitan novels published?

7.  Sometimes authors choose a pseudonym when they write in a different genre from their usual. Which renowned mystery writer published such novels as Absent in the Spring and The Rose and the Yew Tree, which were not mysteries but general fiction (with occasional romantic themes), as by "Mary Westmacott"?

8.  Many actors use names that differ from their birth names (think Marion Morrison and Norma Jean Mortenson) but this seems less common for directors. However, one John Martin Feeney became one of the most celebrated directors of all time, winner of four Oscars for Best Director. If his pseudonym was intended to conceal his Irish ancestry, surely he risked exposing that with one of his better known films, The Quiet Man. What was the name John Martin Feeney used professionally?

9.  A woman possibly named Fujiwara no Kaoriko wrote a long novel generally regarded as one of the first novels in history. By what name is this author usually known, a descriptive name, bestowed on her during her service as a lady-in-waiting?

10.  The great French singer born Edith Gassion presumably did not regret adopting this pseudonym, which is usually translated as what bird in English, based on French slang? (Give either the pseudonym or the English word for the bird.)

11.  A common reason for using a pseudonym is to conceal your side hustle from your main employer. P. M. A. Linebarger was a professor in Asiatic Studies at Johns Hopkins, a reserve Army officer, and an expert in psychological warfare (but never a shoemaker nor a metalworker!). He also wrote some of the most individual science fiction of the 20th Century, such as "Scanners Live in Vain", under which pseudonym (first and last name please)?

12.  The woman born Paulette Williams rejected her patriarchal name (Paulette) and slave name (Williams) and took a new name, based on Xhosa and Zulu words meaning "She who comes with her own things" and "She who walks like a lion". Give this new name, under which she wrote novels such as Liliane, poetry, and plays like the 1975 Emmy- and Grammy-nominated "choreopoem" for colored girls who have considered suicide/when the rainbow is enuf.

13. The science fiction writer Theodore Sturgeon, author of More Than Human, was born with a different name. Give his last name at birth -- a name which may have been the inspiration for the title character's name in a certain story by Sturgeon's friend Robert Heinlein -- and Heinlein's character's name became an English word for remote handling devices..

14. Portugal's Fernando Pessoa may have used more pseudonyms than any other writer, though he regarded them as individuals of their own, with different biographies and views, and he called them "heteronyms". One of the most famous of his heteronyms even inspired a novel by another of Portugal's greatest writers, called The Year of the Death of [redacted]. Give either the redacted name of this particular heteronym, or the Nobel Prize winner who wrote the novel.

15. Science fiction and crime writer Stephen Robinett published his first several stories and the serial version of his first novel (Stargate) as by "Tak Hallus", a name derived from a Persian, Urdu, and Hindi word (itself imported from Arabic) which has what appropriate meaning?

16. A Science Fiction Writers of America Grand Master published some stories and a few of her novels as by "Andrew North", presumably because her audience for these books was felt to be boys. Ironically, her first name was also traditionally male -- because she had adopted it at first as a pseudonym for her early novels, but then legally changed her name? What was her full name, either at birth, or after her name change?

Review: Lady Into Fox, by David Garnett

Review: Lady Into Fox, by David Garnett

by Rich Horton

David Garnett (1892-1981) was part of the Bloomsbury Group. His mother was the Russian translator Constance Garnett, and he married Virginia Woolf's niece, rather scandalously (she was over a quarter-century younger than him, and he had met her as an infant, and she was the daughter of his one time lover Duncan Grant.) He published his first novel during the Great War under a pseudonym. Lady Into Fox (1924) was his second novel, or, really, a novella -- it's not much over 20,000 words long. He wrote quite a few more books, of which the best known is probably Aspects of Love (1955), the source material for the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical of that title.

The book was illustrated in woodcuts by R. A. Garnett -- David Garnett's first wife. My edition is the 2004 reprint from McSweeney's, which reproduces R. A. Garnett's illustrations. 

It's the story of a young woman, Silvia Tebrick (maiden name Fox) who one day suddenly turns into a fox. Her husband Richard is despondent -- they were a truly loving couple -- and takes his vixen home with him, and tries to make a life with her in her transformed state. He dismisses his servants, and tries to feed her at the dinner table, and have her sleep in the bed with him, and she even plays piquet.

But over time her urge to be outside dominates, and she loses interest in piquet, and wants to eat food she's caught herself. Eventually Richard must set her free, which only leads to further difficulties for him. She has a litter, and he finds himself desperately worrying about the local fox hunts. There is still a relationship -- and Richard dotes on some of the foxes in her litter, though he's jealous of the father. But the arc of the story is clear, and the tragic ending inevitable.

It's a rather neat story, at once tragic, but a bit arch. Is it an allegory of a woman's desire to have her own life? That's certainly one way to read it. But perhaps it's just a "beast story", or something unexplainable. There is never any reason to doubt the true affection of Richard and his wife, no question of cruelty. But her independent life as a vixen seems something she values as well. A fine novella, and best at this lenght -- any longer and it would have overstayed its welcome.

(Vercors' 1960 novel Sylva, the first book in translation to be nominated for a Hugo, was apparently in part a response to Lady Into Fox, as it's sort of the reverse story -- Sylva is a woman raised by foxes, or perhaps a fox that has become a woman. (I haven't actually read the book.))

Old Bestseller: The Constant Nymph, by Margaret Kennedy

Old Bestseller: The Constant Nymph, by Margaret Kennedy

by Rich Horton

Margaret Kennedy (1896-1967) was a British novelist and playwright, with at least 16 novels and a number of plays to her credit, as well as criticism and memoirs. She seems to have been quite successful in her lifetime, signaled in part by several movie adaptations, but, like many writers, her reputation went into eclipse for a time, but she has been somewhat rescued in recent years. Her family was, as a whole, quite literary -- Joyce Cary was her cousin, and one of her daughters and one of her granddaughters are also novelists. Interestingly (to me) Violet Powell (Anthony Powell's wife) wrote a book about her: The Constant Novelist: A Study of Margaret Kennedy. (Violet Powell wrote books about four somewhat neglected 20th Century woman writers: Kennedy, Maude ffoulkes, E. M. Delafield, and Flora Annie Steel.)

The Constant Nymph, her second novel, from 1924, is definitely her best remembered book. She turned it into a play in 1926 (with Basil Dean) -- this was very popular, with the lead originated by Noel Coward, who was replaced by John Gielgud. There were four screen adaptations, in 1928, 1933, 1938, and 1943. The latter version, starring Charles Boyer, Joan Fontaine, Alexis Smith, and Brenda Marshall, was quite successful, with Fontaine getting an Oscar nomination. (Having said that, a reading of the plot according to Wikipedia suggests to me that some of the most affecting parts of the novel were excised -- admittedly, in part likely because they'd have been pretty controversial.)

The story opens with a brief introduction to the expatriate British composer Albert Sanger, who left his home early for life on the continent, producing mostly operas that were only appreciated by a rare few, living in various places, with various wives and mistresses, and seven acknowledged children plus some illegitimate ones. We meet one of his protégés, another Englishman, Lewis Dodd, coming to visit him at his ramshackle place in the Austrian Tyrol. This section is called "Sanger's Circus", and Dodd, along with a Russian choreographer named Trigorin, arrive at the house, in which Sanger's seven children -- two by his first wife, four by his second wife, an Englishwoman named Evelyn Churchill, and one by his current mistress live, along with Sanger and the mistress, Linda. Lewis Dodd is another fabulous composer, also mostly unappreciated. The immediate crises are two -- Sanger's 16 year old daughter Toni has disappeared, and Sanger's health is precarious. Toni soon emerges -- she has run off to München, and has been seduced by the Jewish impresario Jacob Birnbaum. It's quickly clear that the even younger Tessa (14) is in love with Dodd, who has just enough self control not to sleep with her. And then Sanger dies.

Toni's situation is normalized, to some extent, when she marries Jacob. The two oldest Sanger children are talented musicians, and old enough to go off on their own. But what to do with Evelyn Churchill's remaining children, Tessa, Lina, and Sebastian? Evelyn's brothers, Robert and Charles, realize they must take custody, and soon Robert and Charles' daughter Florence come to the Sanger home to manage the estate, and to pack the children off to school in England. But Florence -- already an admirer of Lewis Dodd's music -- falls desperately in love with him, though it's really pretty clear they are not well suited. Lewis is entranced as well, due to Florence's beauty and sophistication, and they quickly marry. 

Then to the closing sequence, which involves the inevitable collapse of the Dodds' marriage, and the terrible difficulty the Sanger-Churchill children have adapting to English school ways. Florence is overcontrolling, and fiendishly jealous of Tessa. Tessa is still in love with Lewis -- and Lewis with her, though it's not clear how much of his response is to be trusted (and it's certainly a bit creepy.) Lewis (of course) is a compositional genius (and also a great conductor) -- and Florence sees him as a career to manage, while Tessa is more of a muse ... The novel careens from what at the beginning is an almost comic -- and quite believable -- portrayal of a chaotic if somewhat loving household to a full on -- and quite believable -- tragedy.

It's not a perfect novel. The brilliance of both Sanger and Dodd as composers seems at times a plot device. The portrayal of Jacob Birnbaum is very antisemitic, though one could argue that it is simply portraying the standard antisemitism of the era. The ultimate plot resolution turns in part on what seems a sort of convenient health problem. But for all that -- it really works. It's deeply affecting, and much of the family dynamics, for all their chaos, or perhaps because of the chaos, ring true. Florence perhaps is in the end too much of a villain -- but also we kind of believe that, and she's a villain but for -- well, not good reasons but understandable ones. It's -- it's a novel eminently worth reading, and quite powerful in its way. And, you know, the ending the reader kind of roots for (but doesn't get) is in many ways just so wrong -- but ... kind of right? I've seen the book compared to Lolita, but it's not really like that at all -- Tessa is not at all like Dolores Haze, nor so horribly abused, and Lewis Dodd, though not really an admirable man, is no Humbert Humbert. And Kennedy gets into Tessa's head in a way Nabokov never did with Dolores.

By the way, I had not known that Kennedy wrote a sequel, The Fool of the Family, concerning two of the Sanger boys, and (of course) their horrifying romantic convolutions. (The Constant Nymph is essentially all about the girls.) It seems to have been a success, and was adapted by Kennedy into a play, Escape Me Never, which in turn was twice filmed, in the UK in 1935, and again in the US in 1947. (The British film seems well-regarded, but the US film was apparently quite poor, despite starring Errol Flynn and Ida Lupino.)

Review: Stone, by Alter S. Reiss

Review: Stone, by Alter S. Reiss

by Rich Horton

A few years ago Alter S. Reiss published a novella for Tor.com called Sunset Mantle, set in a fictional but non-fantastic world. I liked it a great deal, and so I was happy to notice that he has published another story, a novella or short novel, in the same world (though with different characters.) This is Stone, from 2023. As far as I can tell it's ebook only.

The main character is Rael, a young woman in Taraf the City, an independent city-state in what seems a roughly Middle Eastern setting and culture, analogous to our world two or three millennia ago. She is a strong woman, learning to be a stone worker, like her father. The city is building a strong new gate, in the face of threats from a man who has set himself up as a King and conquered several other city-states. Rael's father is a greatly respected stonemason, "of the line of Peor". She has two brothers and a sister. The plot is set in motion when her younger and more mischievous brother Tei is murdered by one of the Red Scarves -- a group of bandits living in the desert wastes, that had recently been declared anathema by Taraf the City's somewhat fanatical new scholar-priest after they had stolen some gold from a caravan.

Rael blames herself for Tei's death, for she had not stopped him from confronting the Red Scarves. Her mother, meanwhile, is bitter that no revenge is being taken. And the loss of Tei puts more pressure on their family to supply urgently needed stoneworkers. Rael's brother is more interesting in being a soldier, and her sister is not well-suited to the work, so they invite a couple of cousins from another city. And the two young men, as Rael quickly realizes, are not actually her cousins -- but her mother insists they maintain the fiction, because their labor is much needed. 

Rael, though disturbed by the lie, soon comes to like the two men, who are good workers, and who even teach Rael some things she didn't know. Indeed she starts to have feelings for one of the men, Arith, which are clearly reciprocated. And the work on the gate continues, until another accident strikes, injuring a friend of Rael's and also one of her false cousins. With his fellow hurt, Arith asks Rael's assistance on something -- taking a mysterious cask in to the desert. Rael knows this must be something questionable, but she trusts Arith.

And so, the resolution marches forward, a beautifully engineered moral tragedy, as the various missteps -- even those with understandable motivations -- come back to haunt most of the characters, and especially Rael and her family. This is complicated by the expected incursion of the ambitious King, and by a religious showdown of sorts, with the laws and rules of their society, and their consciences, propelling the characters to a crushing end, with heroic acts, treachery, surprises, and deep honesty all swirling together. It's a profoundly moving story, and I recommend it highly.