(no subject)
Jun. 23rd, 2007 07:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
merrilyAm reading through the 500 or so flist posts I missed this week, what with being social, trying to reduce the massive to-read stack next to my bedside table -- because on Monday? I have another dozen galleys to bring home -- and simultaneously freaking out about how I have to get a new job.
The social part has left me with three more loads of dishes to do today, and a host of odd discoveries: at some point last night I decided that the bowl of leftover strawberries didn't need to go into the fridge, but my opened, unfinished can of beer did; and also I think I accidentally left a burner on all night, but am not sure, because roommate seems to have turned it off this morning--anyway the house didn't burned down, so, win.
The reading part leads me to tell y'all that Julie Phillips' bio of James Tiptree, Jr. is freaking amazing. I knew the outline of Tiptree's life already, but the details are staggering and fascinating, and it seems particularly apropos given the sudden glut of gender-and-fiction material I find myself consuming rapidly and hungrily on- and offline.
In case you haven't yet encountered her (and most of Tiptree's work is out of print, so you may not have), here's an executive summary: Alice ("Alli") Sheldon, who had a weird and adventurous early life (born in 1915, single child of wealthy socialite parents whose previous pregnancies ended in tragedy, taken by her parents on several trips to Africa which have lasting emotional aftershocks, ends up in boarding school, marries the man who she sat next to at her debut, divorces him, gets a PhD in psychology, joins the CIA), ends up creating two pseudynomous alter-ego authorial selves: James Tiptree, Jr, and Raccoona Sheldon.
Tiptree, Jr. gets a great deal of attention: he's an excellent and prolific sci-fi writer; his prose is likened to Hemingway; he writes proto-feminist work, which causes a great deal of ecstatic praise. Also, no one ever meets him in person. He carries on friendships by correspondence with some of the top writers in the field -- including, btw, Joanna Russ & Ursula LeGuin. Eventually, the death of Alli's mother causes Tiptree to be outed as Alli, and the shockwaves reverberate in both annoying and laudable ways. The latter includes the founding of the Tiptree award for fiction that explores and expands ideas of gender.
(Raccoona Sheldon doesn't get a great deal of attention, but the story "The Screwfly Solution," published under that pseudonym, is one of the most memorable reading experiences of my teenage years. Seriously. It's creepy and fascinating, and, I think, directly responsible for forming my nascent feminist self. I didn't put two & two together until reading the Phillips' bio.)
Anyway, the book is good. I like it. I'm glad it's received the honors it deserves.
Am also reading Gil Adamson's novel, The Outlander, Perri Klass's Treatment Kind & Fair, and Annie Dillard's Pilgrim At Tinker Creek, because I needed a break from YA liek whoa.
When I say "need," I don't mean "have been fired and am destitute," thank God. I mean, "asked for the once-a-year raise, and was told okay, but not on the anniversary of my being hired, but two weeks later, because that's when they're going to do it." There's no good reason for that at all! None! They're just being assholes! It's going to save them $86 bucks, and that $86 bucks, apparently, is all that stands between them and bankruptcy, so I have to wait.
Straw! Camel's back! I mean, I put up with my work responsibilities doubling, with no pay increase, after a colleague was fired and not replaced. I didn't bat an eye at the annual bonus being cut by 25%. I said "sure" every time something needed to be done that the admin. assistant couldn't be bothered with (tracking down waylaid shipments, doing research summaries on dodgy donation requests, writing award apps, maintaining the mailing list). I'm fucking processing all the Harry Potter #7 special orders. Half of the phone calls to the store are for me! AND NOW THEY TELL ME THAT I DON'T GET MY 86 FREAKING DOLLARS?
*goes to get a stiff drink*
This frog has realized that the water is starting to boil. And she is going to jump.
I don't know where I'm jumping, but goddamnit, I really hate being in this pot.
Now must go rescue laundry from the clothesline. Also, chocolate-chip crepes: yes/no?
The social part has left me with three more loads of dishes to do today, and a host of odd discoveries: at some point last night I decided that the bowl of leftover strawberries didn't need to go into the fridge, but my opened, unfinished can of beer did; and also I think I accidentally left a burner on all night, but am not sure, because roommate seems to have turned it off this morning--anyway the house didn't burned down, so, win.
The reading part leads me to tell y'all that Julie Phillips' bio of James Tiptree, Jr. is freaking amazing. I knew the outline of Tiptree's life already, but the details are staggering and fascinating, and it seems particularly apropos given the sudden glut of gender-and-fiction material I find myself consuming rapidly and hungrily on- and offline.
In case you haven't yet encountered her (and most of Tiptree's work is out of print, so you may not have), here's an executive summary: Alice ("Alli") Sheldon, who had a weird and adventurous early life (born in 1915, single child of wealthy socialite parents whose previous pregnancies ended in tragedy, taken by her parents on several trips to Africa which have lasting emotional aftershocks, ends up in boarding school, marries the man who she sat next to at her debut, divorces him, gets a PhD in psychology, joins the CIA), ends up creating two pseudynomous alter-ego authorial selves: James Tiptree, Jr, and Raccoona Sheldon.
Tiptree, Jr. gets a great deal of attention: he's an excellent and prolific sci-fi writer; his prose is likened to Hemingway; he writes proto-feminist work, which causes a great deal of ecstatic praise. Also, no one ever meets him in person. He carries on friendships by correspondence with some of the top writers in the field -- including, btw, Joanna Russ & Ursula LeGuin. Eventually, the death of Alli's mother causes Tiptree to be outed as Alli, and the shockwaves reverberate in both annoying and laudable ways. The latter includes the founding of the Tiptree award for fiction that explores and expands ideas of gender.
(Raccoona Sheldon doesn't get a great deal of attention, but the story "The Screwfly Solution," published under that pseudonym, is one of the most memorable reading experiences of my teenage years. Seriously. It's creepy and fascinating, and, I think, directly responsible for forming my nascent feminist self. I didn't put two & two together until reading the Phillips' bio.)
Anyway, the book is good. I like it. I'm glad it's received the honors it deserves.
Am also reading Gil Adamson's novel, The Outlander, Perri Klass's Treatment Kind & Fair, and Annie Dillard's Pilgrim At Tinker Creek, because I needed a break from YA liek whoa.
When I say "need," I don't mean "have been fired and am destitute," thank God. I mean, "asked for the once-a-year raise, and was told okay, but not on the anniversary of my being hired, but two weeks later, because that's when they're going to do it." There's no good reason for that at all! None! They're just being assholes! It's going to save them $86 bucks, and that $86 bucks, apparently, is all that stands between them and bankruptcy, so I have to wait.
Straw! Camel's back! I mean, I put up with my work responsibilities doubling, with no pay increase, after a colleague was fired and not replaced. I didn't bat an eye at the annual bonus being cut by 25%. I said "sure" every time something needed to be done that the admin. assistant couldn't be bothered with (tracking down waylaid shipments, doing research summaries on dodgy donation requests, writing award apps, maintaining the mailing list). I'm fucking processing all the Harry Potter #7 special orders. Half of the phone calls to the store are for me! AND NOW THEY TELL ME THAT I DON'T GET MY 86 FREAKING DOLLARS?
*goes to get a stiff drink*
This frog has realized that the water is starting to boil. And she is going to jump.
I don't know where I'm jumping, but goddamnit, I really hate being in this pot.
Now must go rescue laundry from the clothesline. Also, chocolate-chip crepes: yes/no?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-24 01:10 am (UTC)::pets::
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-24 06:14 am (UTC)So.
The crepes were still good, though. :-)
*is grateful for the petting*