The ballad of the ice-worm cocktail, Part 1.

My friend Mike had an interesting fact to share the other day - apparently, if you drop a book in the bathtub, the best way to dry it out is in the deep freeze. Given enough time, the water in the icy book will sublimate, escaping from the paper without warping it.

"Of course," he cautioned, "the problem with that idea is that you'd have to risk ruining a book to test it out."

A very good point indeed... but really, it's all the more reason why someone should be willing to try it out, and put the results on his blog. So, here we go!

Step 1 - Apologise to everyone for using "Dune" as the test subject. I actually have a few reasons for this:

a) If it was a book I didn't like, why would I have a copy to begin with? For that matter, if I drop a copy of "Twilight" in the toilet, do I really want to blog about all the trouble I went through save it?

b) Sure, I've got some old beat-up paperbacks I could have used. But I know that, should worst come to pass, I'll be able to pick up a shiny new copy of "Dune" from Chapters.

c) Of all the books I own, drowning this one really does seem the most ironic.

d) It's all for the setup - months from now, I'll have some friends over for a dinner party, and suggest they get the ice cream from the freezer. I'll have forgotten about this completely by then, but when they ask, "Why is there a copy of "Dune" in your freezer?", it'll all be worth it.

Anyway: Sploooo-ooo-ooo-oo-ooooosh!

Apologies for the blurriness, but I had to act fast:

These pages were warping quickly. Next stop - the cryogenic chamber, to preserve the subject until some future date as it can be resuscitated!


(As with all cryogenic chambers, that invariably means getting stuck underneath a frozen turkey.)

And now -- we wait. In the meantime, a friend loaned me his copy of Baudolino. I'll think I'll finish reading that!

Because I don't think anybody's going to be willing to loan me their books for a while now.

Soundtrack For The Night.

"Ashtray Rock" by the Joel Plaskett Emergency has been in my car's CD player non-stop for the last week. It's the return of the concept album, and it's a beautiful thing. The songs are fine on their own, but where it really shines is in the transitions. As he segues from Chinatown/For The Record (Track 10) into The Instrumental (Track 11), the music starts to shift. It's like watching Bruce Lee in action: every step has its own purpose, and still manages to support what's coming next. The melody goes from place to place, always driving forward, always getting to a higher state of energy. After the ascent, we go on the ride down: a "wish you were here" postcard, narrated by the girl at the center of the album's theme. It illustrates the concept perfectly, and opens up the final two tracks for a wistful conclusion.

It's an excellent album, so I started digging around for some more information about it. The first thing I noticed was that the girl who narrated the postcard was the same one that illustrated the cover, the liner notes, and did the woodburning for his previous album, "La De Da": Rebecca Kraatz.

Talented lady. Also, somewhat familiar... where have I seen her work before?

Ah, yes! She did a guest comic for the not-always-readable-yet-always-rewarding Dinosaur Comics by Ryan North. The fact that her strip dealt with archaeology in Saskatchewan was just icing on the cake. After making that connection, I dug a little deeper in her portfolio, and I found that she's a friend and collaborator of Hope Larson... who is married to Bryan Lee O'Malley. And that ended my little journey of links right there, because I don't need to go any further than that. You see, Bryan Lee O'Malley is the creator of...



...SCOTT PILGRIM!!!

This is important. You see, Scott Pilgrim is perhaps the most awesome comic series I have ever read. I can't describe it; I've tried before, and failed. Describing it as "The Hyper-Real Life Of A Slacker In Toronto" is accurate, but it doesn't explain why it's so good.

Don't believe me? Drop me a line. Give me your home address. I will mail you a copy of Volume 1, free. And then, you can send me an e-mail saying, "This is awesome!". Then, I will send you a reply, saying, "I know! It's so awesome!". And then you'll say, "I'm buying you a drink the next time you come to visit!", and so forth. See? Everybody wins.

...aaand that, my friends, is the story of how Joel Plaskett taught me the value of Facebook.

Casting Call.

Someone in the comments requested some recommended reading, and much like listing "your Top 5 movies", it's not the sort of thing you can answer quickly. You see, the problem with liking Arthur C. Clarke is that it's a bit like saying your favourite band is The Beatles. It's a perfectly good answer, but it's so perfectly true that it ends the conversation... unless you ask: "Which Beatle"?

Then it gets fun. (The Amazon links are the ones I'm recommending.)

Arthur C. Clarke: John Lennon. A humanitarian above all, he's the heart and the embodiment of science fiction -- and as he flourishes, so does the genre (much like another Arthur).

Isaac Asimov: Paul McCartney. I went back and forth on this one, but the truth is that Paul never would have written 2001. Paul was a smart guy, and ended up with all the glory. Asimov was also a non-fiction science writer, and he's the one with an award and a magazine named after him. Besides, Paul played bass, and Asimov's no stranger to Foundations.

Philp José Farmer: George Harrison. What a long, strange, trip it's been, indeed.

Robert Heinlein: Ringo Starr. People wince at Ringo's work once he left The Beatles... and Heinlein fans grimace at what happened afterwards with The Bugs. Really, there's little they have in common, aside from the fact that you just can't help but love the dumb lugs.

George Martin, Producer: Damon Knight. They're called the Damon Knight Grand Master Awards for a reason. He founded the SFWA, and although he wrote a few good stories, his true contribution was in bringing out the potential in others.

Pete Best, "The Fifth Beatle": Harlan Ellison. I still haven't read anything by this guy, but there are as many rumours and legends swirling around this guy as there are around Ringo's predecessor. On top of that, it stands to reason that the Fifth Beatle would be pretty bitter at the world nowadays.

There you go. A very long-winded way to recommend three books and a text. On the other hand, it would take me three textbooks to list my top five movies. Consider yourself lucky.

(Disclaimer: The Grand Master list is pretty exclusive -- it's only awarded to living authors. That's why so many names are absent... which is too bad, because I very much would have liked to compare Philip K. Dick to Yoko Ono.)

Would a re-invented wheel be edgier?

*blink*

Ow, my eyes... okay, maybe that was a little too much Wii this weekend.

Fortunately, this was primarily a reading weekend, and a good one at that. I found a garage sale with the sort of sci-fi collection that would get you on Antiques Roadshow. This is great, because I'm still trying to read at least one book by each of the 23 Grand Masters of Science Fiction. Leafing through them today, I'm aware that they're a breath of fresh air in a smoggy world.

For the most part, these authors weren't the million-sellers; these were the people that the million-selling authors read when they were kids.

There's an incredible sense of "play" in their works. They're writing a story first, and a genre second. If it served the story, they weren't above writing a happy ending. Even in the stories where everything goes horribly wrong, there's still a reassuring implication that it's just for fun -- although if you want to learn something from it, so much the better.

It almost seems like sci-fi authors have to work harder today, to make sure that their book stands out against this background. Usually, it results in an emphasis on deeper characters or harder science or closer relevance, and that's great. But it's vital to keep perspective on where you are, and not to make assumptions about the previous generation.

What touched off this entire post was the Battlestar Galactica commentary I watched this afternoon. The producer, Ron Moore, mentioned that the 1978 series was nice, but today's audiences were more sophisticated. For the record, the new Battlestar is way better than the old series, but that one comment set my teeth on edge.

One lesson I will always carry with me from Bio 100: "More evolved" does not mean "superior". If a tapeworm grows body hair, it's more evolved. It will then die when its host chokes up a living, squirming hairball. There are many words to describe that, but none of them are "superior".

Similarly, don't pat yourself on the back for having a sophisticated audience. Unless you're PBS, you're confusing "thoughtful" with "media-saturated". It's a valid reason for messing with a dated TV show, but never assume that newer is better.

I really hope I'm writing this because it's true, and not because I'm getting old and crotchety.

There's a reason why I love this town.

I arrived in Edmonton just in time for some holiday shopping, which took me to my favourite bookstore ever: Audrey's Books. Why are they my favourite? Because the clerks will start talking about how great "Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH" is, yet they will openly berate anyone who phones asking about the "Left Behind" series. They've got taste, and they're not afraid to use it.

After discussing the correlation between Australian literary awards and the Australian used book trade, I concluded my transactions and left the store. I turned the corner, and saw a five-dollar bill lying in the middle of the sidewalk. See? I told you it's a great store. I looked around to see if anyone was fumbling with their wallet, and picked it up for myself.

Not ten seconds later, one of Edmonton's homeless (or, as I call them, les indigent) came up to me. In a barely discernable voice, he politely muttered a request for five cents, as he hadn't eaten in two days.

Now, I've never been in graduate studies, but I know a psychology experiment when I smell one. I mean, it's not that hard to disguise a grad student as a derelict, is it? Now, the question became the same as when a fill out a survey: Not "what do I believe", but "what do I want these researchers to believe about other people". And, even if it's not the case, I'd rather that they write a paper about the inherent generousity of people, so I gave him the five dollars.

In a way, I was reminded of a passage I once read in a philosophy book, where a professor challenged his students to find a single practical benefit to an act of kindness (i.e. giving a near-worthless item - a match - to a stranger whom you'd never see again). The students failed, but I think I found the answer yesterday.

The benefit, you see, is perception. That person who received the match will have an increased (if artificial) appraisal of humanity. In some small way, that will influence his interactions with other people. And, in some small way, you'll know that you've done your part to stack the deck.

That's the funny thing about morality. If enough people believe in something that's false, it becomes true. And if that's the case, that actually does give the individual an opportunity to make the world a better place.

Okay, that's as close as I'm getting to holiday schmaltz. Happy Festivus, everyone.