Calligraphy follows shapes and spirals. A shell (caracola) and a pear.
A lively looking butterfly with personality.
What does it mean?
Calligraphy
Worldbuilding Wednesday 9/25/19: Melniboné
Artwork by Rodney Matthews
British author Michael Moorcock created a series of stories, novels, and metanovels about albino warrior Elric of Melniboné, referenced by me here. In that series, the made-up language was surprisingly consistent. Sometimes ridiculous, sometimes grandiose, the words Yyrkoon, Imryyr, and Xiombarg conjure up a sort of Solomon’s Demons / Chinese never-never land beyond time and space. Richard K. Morgan drew on the feel of this imaginary language when he designed the languages for his A Land Fit for Heroes series, as well as adopting some of Moorcock’s writing conventions.
Out to write Elric fanfic? Here’s a list of randomly generated words.
Melnibonéan words
| Sarquoon
Baldas Theldroon Xomlolu Threem Garnooth Sadgorn Kaadric Ikwi Xahrain Iogastor Hiquaiz Anargil Elsoth Hionric |
Abasril
Oonibain Zhemblar Equalorn Jhermos Kwilnara Elsheen Kamric Darnyl Grochar Quaric Aarhoon Echaray Jhalreen Akwet |
Quarznain
Raileen Dazhkar Quataril Therzym Kaarnoch Stelohim Xiansiph Jhaetaril Magloch Habookan Sharslor Xoric Stelezheen Quarhoon |
Marching Devils
Artwork by Wayne Barlowe
…out of Hell and into your nightmares.
They are not human. They are made of living stone.
They Called Us Enemy [Review]
They Called Us Enemy
by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, and Steven Scott
Artwork by Harmony Becker
Top Shelf Productions, 2019
George Takei is a man of many talents: activist, actor, meme creator, and now, at age 82, graphic novel writer. Who would have known in 1968 that Mr. Sulu would have had such legs?
Mr. Takei’s life, of course, began before Star Trek, and continued after it. They Called Us Enemy is about his experience in a Japanese internment camp during WWII. In case you are not familiar with this episode in American history, you can read about it here. Internment was not acknowledged as a violation of human rights or even discussed much in the decades from the end of WWII to the 1980s, when, as detailed in the book, President Reagan issued a formal apology from the United States Government to the survivors. I only learned about it in a PBS documentary from the late 1970s. As a teen, it blew me away. It was the second time I realized the unjust and grave mistakes the United States Government made in the past. (The first was slavery.)
Takei and his two co-authors are given a strong boost by the subtle, gentle artwork of Harmony Becker. Which was a good choice, as it is the Takei family’s story, not just George’s, who was 5 at the time. It affected all of them. In all the illustrations they are always doing something together, and George shares the stage with his brother Henry, dad Takekuma, and mom Fumiko. Even little sister Nancy Reiko, though a baby when the story starts, plays a part: we see her growing up and learning to walk. She too is present and reminds us she will also be affected by this experience.
Though the illustrations were at times sparse I want to commend the artist for doing her research into the vehicles and uniforms of the time. The soldiers in the camps, for example, wear old WWI style uniforms that had been mothballed, rather than the newer get ups used by soldiers in the Pacific and European arenas. And there was subtle, delicate individuality between the characters to show they were not faceless masses, as in this scene of arrival.
As befitting the topic, the artwork also had a gentle, old-fashioned manga feel.
The story also went into details I did not know about internment: that was FDR who signed the bill (implied in the novel to have been pressured by several hot-blooded and anti-Asian senators) and that there was an amendment later to allow the entry of Nisei soldiers to fight as American soldiers in WWII which was problematic for its disrespectful language and attitude. (You’ll have to read the book.) Also, that many of those imprisoned Japanese Americans lost everything: houses, farms, their businesses and means of making a living. When they came out of the camps they had to start completely over. In my state of Washington local history tells us these tales.
In all, five stars, and much recommended.
Worldbuilding Wednesday 9/18/19: Fish
Some kind of pompano, another fine and evocative name.
Fish, and sealife in general, tend to get names that relate to their appearance — such as the seahorse — or behavior, like the fancifully named by-the-wind sailor jellyfish. Sprinkled in are names from foreign sources, like humuhumunukunukuapua’a.
Looking for a name for a fish that never was and never will be? Here’s a list.
Fish that never were
| Jennygrunt
Shortbrow Lobster Pigeonlip Halibut Rough-Ribboned Barracuda Canary Angler Arctic Carp Whiphead Mackeral Envoy Marlin Deep Sea Spitsally Vestip Paradise Bass Fairytail Narrowtooth Marlin Crabhead Eel Bridlebeard Silverlipped Darter Gemtipper Cigar Smelt Five-Spotted Northern Perch Skate-Eating Ray Mason Hake Seacalf |
Princess Bonnet Bonito
Sausage Angler Death Bass Copper Sturgeon Puddingmouth Daggerbelly Flat Sided Darter Eel-Eating Barracuda Jackagong Goosesface Cod Spiny-sashed Crawfish Great Killikeg Ambertail Codfish Beggarfish Glass Marlin Bluechinned Cichlid Broadbelly Dorado Wolfbow Fringe-eyed Sculpin Humpcheek Halibut Sea Patron Specklefin Sturgeon |
Stone and Sea
Vicissitudes, by Jason deCaires Taylor
What happens to the people who Medusa turned to stone?
Do they remain conscious over millennia, as continents sink and
ocean levels rise?
Worldbuilding Wednesday 9/11/19: Silent Movie Stars
Silent film actress Pola Negri (real name Apolonia Chalupec)
The first movie stars to appear were not the glamourous creatures of today. They were experimental subjects, warm bodies whose only requirement was to do what the operator of the camera told them to. They were anonymous for the most part. Some of the earliest experimenters in film, like Georges Melies, used themselves as the stars. When films began to be developed commercially, the need came for named actors and actresses the audiences could relate to. Many of them came from Vaudeville and Broadway. Others were models and dancers — men and women who knew how to project themselves, create a presence.
Then, as now, the star-making machinery made them over, giving them new names and identities. A Jewish girl from Cincinnati named Theodosia Goodman became the vampy man-eater Theda Bara. A young man from Italy with the lengthy name of Rodolfo Alfonso Raffaello Pierre Filibert Guglielmi di Valentina d’Antonguella became hearthrob Rudolph Valentino. Star names back then were required to be easy to spell and say, and also easy to read, as many in the U.S. still never made it beyond grade school. They also had to be of the era. While some 1920s names like Rose and Violet have come full circle and made it back into style, others, like Ira and Blanche, have not.
Some randomly generated names if you need to create your own silent film star, or someone from the 1910s – 1920s in general.
Randomly generated silent movie stars
| Female
Pearl Bold Rumor Grayson Olive May Violet Aster Stella St. Pierre Emeline LaCroix Chloe Sweet Rose Blythe Vera Hunter Odile Gracille Trudy Farthing Blanche Valentine Irene Swan Thelma Lawshe Mabel Reese Nola York Nellie Angel Mae Summers Dolores Radnor Tessie True Fanny Rivers Irene Coronet Zora Gray |
Male
Rudolf Sands Ira Hanover Miles Blair Julian Stanhope William Swain Oscar Knight Gardner Perry Dudley Cross Reuben Carlyle Victor Knightsbridge Renton Cross Paul Adler Fredrick Bynes Glen Downs Leon Bakshi Maurice Hunter Owen Nestor Boris Ostrov Simon Valentine Ramon Silva Henry Stewart Oran Rich Chick Toth |
Two Books about Skeletons [Review]
Unnatural Selection
by Katrina van Grouw
Princeton University Press, 2018
How does evolution happen? This is the behind Unnatural Selection, written by natural history curator and illustrator Katrina van Grouw. She approaches it from a direction unfashionable these days, though one that Charles Darwin received inspiration from: the selective breeding of domesticated animals. Unnatural Selection is a book about the skeletons of dogs and cats, pigeons and ducks, compared and contrasted with each other, and if you think one chicken breed, say, is much the same as another, their bones tell a different story.
Pigeon Diversity, (c) Katrina van Grouw
In addition to the mouth-watering pencil illustrations (dark graphite on rich, toothy paper, loose enough to display character, yet tight enough for scientific accuracy) there are stories about genetics, scientists of the past, anthropology, and the breeds themselves. Take, for example, the tale of the crested chicken. Some chicken breeds, such as Polish, sport a ruff of feathers on top of their heads. Unusual, but no big deal; there are plenty of birds with crests. But what lies beneath that feather cap, that’s a different story. There’s a hole in the skull, a fatty pad, and sometimes extrusions of bone sticking out of that pad, and the feathers themselves don’t belong to the head, they are those of the tail. It’s a mutation of more than a few feathers growing where they shouldn’t. The unasked question is, how does a single mutation start a cascade of effects to create the hole, the pad, the horns, the foreign feathers?
.jpg){kind=link}
It sounded to me like the genes that grow feathers on the bird’s fatty rump somehow triggered the same growth on the head – an error of placement and developmental timing. Such a mutation, the book suggests, could have created a new race of horned and frilled chickens, if they found the right environment and were allowed to expand within it, becoming, in short time, a new species. Evolution may move by leaps as well as gradual adaptations, and if the book is firm on anything it’s that genetics isn’t always neat and tidy and doesn’t always follow the rules. Creature and environment work in conjunction with each other. If there is some environmental advantage for the chicken to have this odd headgear, it will survive and perpetuate. Or, perhaps not, but the genes are still there, waiting for their moment. It’s only a matter of time before they pop out again.
As a book about a specific branch of hard science Unnatural Selection was too anecdotal, but as a series of essays continuing on each other, it worked well and for me filled in some of the gaps from my more convention reading in genetics (I cannot recommend She Has Her Mother’s Laugh, by Carl Zimmer, highly enough.)
Heavenly Bodies: Cult Treasures and Spectacular Saints from the Catacombs
by Paul Koudounaris
Thames & Hudson, 2013
Heavenly Bodies, in contrast, is a book about human bones and an overlooked era of history – post-Reformation in the Germanic nations of Europe.
Catholics there were still reeling from the influence of Martin Luther and so, to bolster up the people’s faith, the Vatican decided to ship, wholesale, skeletons of Christian martyrs – or what they assumed were Christian martyrs – from a recently discovered catacomb near Rome to churches, parishes, monasteries and convents for veneration and display. These skeletons were revered as much as those of the saints were, for in the violence of the Reformation many churches had been looted and their relics destroyed. These “martyrs” filled in a vital gap for the community. As their identities were never known they were given new names and histories and received a lengthy treatment to render them as objects of display – cleaning, articulation, and sumptuous clothing. The bare bones were decorated with elaborate whorls of gems both real and glass, held in place with gold or silver wirework. Finally they were given positions of honor in the church in lifelike poses.
Such a display may seem macabre or horrifying to the people of today. Yet it was very natural to the people of the time. The bones were meant to evoke awe and faith, and even generated a vital sense of community. The author is clear-eyed and articulate, approaching the skeletons sympathetically while acknowledging their dubious exhumations. In fact, he dedicates the book to the anonymous artists behind the skeletons’ creation, for they are indeed works of art. The book is filled with sumptuous photographs of the detail involved and the effect they created in their environment, the churches. Sadly, some languish today out of the public eye, moldering in attics or warehouses.
Heavenly Bodies has a gothic, baroque vibe, but I wouldn’t call it a horror book. The emphasis was on life, not death. The skeletons, as macabre as they were, were an affirmation of faith and hope, like the painted clay muerto figurines of the Mexican Day of the Dead. The Mexican caricaturist Posada endowed them with a bizarreness that hipsters adopted with irony; recent depictions in American culture are more decorative. But in actuality the muertos are not meant with irony or a love of death. They are closer in spirit to the jeweled skeletons of those German churches. One is sanctified, the other folk; yet both arise from faith.
In all, two very good books combining both art and science, and recommended.
Face the Facts
And everything else, for that matter.
M Train [Review]
M Train
by Patti Smith
Alfred A. Knopf, 2015
I read this book as a challenge for Seattle Public Library. Every summer they have a book bingo game, and if you fill in a row of five (the center square is free) you are entered in a contest. Each square is for a book of a different topic or genre: Fiction, Science, Bookstore recommendation, etc. One of the squares was for a SAL — Seattle Arts and Lectures — speaker, which Smith will fulfill in October.
I knew of Patti Smith from her days in the NYC punk scene as a singer, songwriter, and poet. Back then I had something of a girlcrush on her… in the first picture I ever saw of her, I thought she was a beautiful boy. I wish I looked like her, sinewy and lanky, ready to tackle anything that headed my way. I wonder if her career would have had the trajectory it did if she had been a more conventionally feminine rock artist like Ann or Nancy Wilson of Heart, or, in the punk world, a vampish Siouxsie Sioux. It seemed to me she got more respect and less catcalling being androgynous.
The introduction states M Train is a book about nothing, but in actuality it covers a year in her in life – 2012 to be exact, skipping periodically to the past and then back to the present. It is structured around the notion of a café, a place where a writer can sit and drink coffee and watch the world go by, as Smith does at her local coffeehouse, Café ‘Ino. She is there on the book’s cover, sitting in her favorite spot. The book is also about her two homes, New York City and Michigan, and travels and sojourns and friends. Not quite a memoir, more a series of reminisces. Smith has a way with the English language, using words as rhythm the way a poet at an open mike might, and I liked it much more than I thought I would.
Some of her tales are heartbreaking, like the sudden death of her husband, Fred “Sonic” Smith, a founding member of the MC5, and then, a month later, of her brother, who had sworn to help her and her family through the grieving process. I knew Smith’s background from reading a Robert Mapplethorpe biography but not her life after the mid-1980s, and I was amazed to discover she had two kids and had raised them far from New York in a small town in Michigan. I was also amazed she had married a member of the MC5; for ages I thought her husband was G.E. Smith, the guitarist in the 1980s and 90s for the Saturday Night Live band. I don’t know how I got that notion. Though Sonic Smith does not play a large role in the book he is present in the background, and Smith does a fine job of humanizing him as well, showing that so ferocious a guitar player and youthful hellraiser also enjoyed listening to baseball games in an old wooden boat.
In addition, the book made me want to carry a notebook around and using for writings and sketches on the fly, something I had never done, and always wanted to do. I am so envious of artists who do that and wind up with books so fat they can’t close. So thanks, Patti.