Alas We Are Ronin

Posted on by Sarah A. Hoyt

First of all, if you subscribe to my substack and/or were hoping for a book review, the substack will come (a chapter of Witch’s Daughter) tomorrow. The book review probably Friday. I lost the book for a while.

I’m running late on account of Death March with Mowers. I.e. our lawn care fell through, and I’m the one who can do it. Which would be easier if it weren’t almost an acre, and the only implement to cut it we have weren’t a little electric mower. Oh. We have an electric sheep too, but he who wrangles tech hasn’t had a chance to train it.

Of course, the moment I was done, lawn care showed up. Mistakes were made, won’t happen again, etc. etc. etc. Just in case, He Who Wrangles Tech shall be nagged into taking the electric sheep out and showing it where to dine.

Meanwhile I spent the day in a state of near — almost — functionality. Which is better than non functional as the last two days, but not exciting. (It wasn’t so much the mowing. It’s just hot and the combination of the two was a bit much.) (My assistant who is reading this as I write it reminds me it might also be hangover from just stopped prednisone. And that’s quite likely.)

Suffice to say I’m out of sorts, a state in which I’m likely to get annoyed by things I’d normally ignore. Which is why my readers who aren’t science fiction readers or particularly interested in shelving conventions or designation of genres are going to have to forgive me while I go into matters of genre, which will in turn lead to a point for the larger culture wars.

Because, trust me, it does apply.

I’m not picking on the person who left the comment in Mad Genius Club saying that since No Man’s Land dealt with complex speculation and problems it would be considered literary anyway, so why not market that way.

There are things that are so wrong they’re not even wrong with the idea of leaning into “literary” for marketing, but they’re things most people who haven’t been in the trenches for the last 30 years can’t be expected to know. I think the top sales figures for literary these days — that’s with full traditional support, push from critics that can declare something anointed and perfect, etc — is around 2k copies. For releases without buzz, let alone indie which is to say something no self-respecting critic of literary fiction would sully himself with, I suspect that would be maybe a couple hundred.

Then there is what “literary” is.

I know of at least three definitions, none of which applies even remotely to my novel. Oh, okay, sorry. I hope one does apply, but by the time it does apply it will be a long time and we’ll all be dead.

Because the first definition of literary and what we’re all familiar with is “classics.” I.e. books that have stood the test of time and are around to be read. And which can still be broadly enjoyed if literature professors aren’t actually trying to suck the life out of them by teaching them in class: Shakespeare. Jane Austen. For a more recent example, Mark Twain.
Obviously I hope No Man’s Land — and others of my works — make it to that category. Mostly because that’s the standard I aim for. (I am btw aware this is unlikely. But either way, it doesn’t matter here and now.)

The second definition is “Literary is a genre like any other.” I.e. it’s a shelving category in bookstores. It is broadly defined as “things that literature critics and professors like.” (And which they think will become classics. Their record on this is… less than perfect. If they’d existed in Shakespeare’s day they’d have considered him a pulp hack.) It used to be the needed classing for this was “has beautiful language.” Hence Ray Bradbury tends to be shelved there. Also “is fairly obscure in meaning/form” which is why Jorge Luis Borges is also there. (I enjoy them both and think they have a good chance of making it to classics.)

Third – In recent years this, like everything else connected to Academia the definition of “literary” has decayed, and now what gets shelved there tends to fall in the category of “repeats current popular politically correct shibboleths.” And often, from what my younger fans tell me “is so obscure it has absolutely no plot.” To be fair “recent” is as far back as my days in college where I had a book inflicted on me in which the “Author” decided to dispense with the unit of time. Anyway, this explains why books like the semi-competent soft-core porn The Handmaid’s Tail Tale is on that shelf. The chances of that one making it to classic are such that I’m sure future generations will wonder at hysterical leftist women dressing like Ketchup bottles. I’m sure there will be many a thesis written on that subject.

This is because these days being crazy-Marxist and politically correct is the mark of an excellent education. (That decay of Academia, yes.) Which means that the same people who used to put Classical Allusions in their stories now make them into Just So Marxist Allegories. (Or the various subgroups, from “race” to “feminism.”) As I said, these are what college professors teach in the hopes of convincing you they should be classics. Most of them are of a quality and a resonance with real human problems that they are more likely to be burned for warmth in a nuclear winter. (And the nuclear winter thing was probably made up during the cold war and about as likely as a prosperous communist society.)

Again, I’m not upset at the suggestion that No Man’s Land should be considered literary, because I know the view of literary people on the street have. It’s complex, satisfying, and has heft. Honestly, I’m flattered if anything.

However — hefts Samurai sword — what the hell have you people done to my chosen genre while I was busy writing fantasy and mystery and other things that publishing houses gave preference to?

Because, you know, this isn’t the first time I’ve run into this. And its’ starting to get under my skin. Because–

Well, guys, it took me a d*mn long time (and a half) to get there, but I got into this writing gig to write science fiction. And the particular sub-branch of science fiction I wanted to write was space opera.

Not that I have anything against hard science fiction. And portions of my forecasting are always fairly “hard.” And, supposing I stay in shape, I have a hard YA SF plotted with a friend/collaborator.

It’s just that what I want to crunch my head around are things like the clash of cultures that cannot be reconciled because one culture is “modified humanity.” (Which is what NML is. Exploring that. Plus the ethics of bringing a barbaric culture to civilization and can it in fact be done without destroying its members. All without the hard triggers of using real cultures/history.) Or the ethics of modifying and optimizing humans (Darkships.) Or… probably a good dozen other things which will emerge after I’ve written them. (You see, I write to understand problems, but I never know what problem I’m trying to solve, in my head, until I do it.) And I’m completely unscrupulous in casting “future science” to serve the needs of my plot.

I know Heinlein was — for his time — writing hard science fiction, but what makes his works immortal (or close enough) and will probably have him in the same category as Shakespeare in a couple three hundred years is that kind of thing: Human problems with a vast canvas scope. (And a small, individual one at the same time. No? Well, you might need to re-read both The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress and Starship Troopers. While you’re at it read everything else, too. It’s good for you and puts hair on your chest. Unless you’re a woman in which case it puts more chest in your chest.)

It wasn’t only Heinlein. That collection of science fiction I’m trying to revisit is full of people doing just that. And even if I think some of them — particularly the French (not, not Asimov’s pen name. The nationality!) — are out of their ever loving mind, they all try to tackle complex problems that are either too “sensitive” or too weird to be tackled in a present-day context.

And that is the circus I ran away with at eleven, when I first found out that such a thing as “science fiction” existed. (Weirdly, I was in my twenties before I realized FANTASY existed. And the first time I came across a Fantasy book I was bewildered by its very existence. I’ve reconciled myself to it, and will admit it serves a lot of the same purposes as science fiction. I just don’t feel as at-ease in its constraints and with its touchstones, and despite my best efforts (and the fact I love a lot of fantasy like Tolkien or Pratchett — other two who will become classics. Well, one almost is, already) am haunted by the feeling that it shows in my work.)

I became aware there was a problem with this a couple decades ago, when I was looking for stuff to read. “I’m in the mood for space opera” brings a never end of mil sf recommendations.

I do read mil sf occasionally, but to me it’s a sub-branch of space opera and not even close to the whole of the thing, or even the main part of the thing.

My attempts at cluing people in by saying stuff like “Like Prince Roger” brought back “yeah, mil sf.” (Well, it technically is, but actually it’s “adventures in strange imaginary worlds that tell us something about the essence of being human.” Why is that different from fantasy? Because the game is played for plausibility and without excuses, that’s why. It’s a different mind-set.)

Anyway, I won’t lie. It’s part of the reason I’m revisiting the books I grew up reading. I might be Ronin and masterless, (BIRM) but I want to remember the house I belong to.

And then, starting a couple of years ago, I started meeting people surprised that my novels meant something, that is was more than pew pew zoom zoom, that I was actually trying to solve basic issues of the human condition/history.

This baffled me, because else what was science fiction for? Why even have this thing called science fiction or at least the space-opera sub-branch?

Today’s comment put this in perspective for me.

Sit up. Stop chewing gum. Did you bring enough for everyone? Pay attention. This is the part that applies to the culture wars at large.

THE REASON THAT PEOPLE THINK THIS IS BECAUSE THEY’VE BEEN LISTENING TO THE LEFT AGAIN!

I know this because I read the same articles and books, where in the middle of what is actually a cogent, sensible point, someone SNEERS at genre and talks about science fiction “hacks” or fantasy “scribblers.”

All of this, of course, while comparing it to the immortal beauty of “literary” by which they mean their own hacks who frankly aren’t, by and large (the recent ones) even competent at the trappings of the genre they’re attempting to skin suit.

Listen up, guys: stop putting leftist ideas in your heads. You know very well where they’ve been. And I hope you washed your hands after touching them.

The left sneers at that which is too creative for them to imitate. They have — as Hollywood is proving — all the creativity of the fae and all the subtlety of giant mecha.

They are telling you that “literary” — by which they mean their drek — is so much better because they’re hoping you think their lack of plot and awkward phrasing is intentional and “deep.”

Stop letting them set terms.

Yes, we are in a weird landscape, and they’ve broken all the walls of the houses we swore allegiance to. Or if you prefer they skinsuited so many institutions that skinsuiting literary genres is the least of it.

And yet, they’re not taking Heinlein’s genre and making it a simplistic, meaningless thing. Oh no. Not while I’m here and I’ve got my sword pen

You and you and you too, before you engage in the game make sure you’re not using words the left has corrupted and distorted. They’re dying a deserved intellectual death, and you don’t want to lend them life by echoing them.

Alas we are ronin. Cool. Let’s topple the skinsuiting regime and restore the right sovereign. Culturally speaking.

Come on. This will be fun. Strap on your mind-sword. Let’s go rampage.

125 thoughts on “Alas We Are Ronin”

  1. You know your caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet when you have to read literary 5 times before you realize it isn’t literal and are wondering WTF Sarah’s writing about.

    Liked by 3 people

      1. Me too apparently. I had to read that a few times before I went “Oh”, add wide eyes. (Goes to get second cup of coffee.)

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  5. “They have — as Hollywood is proving — all the creativity of the fey and all the subtlety of giant mecha.”

    :chuckles: And I’ve seen more subtle giant mecha! Even written a few, like Lupus One (working on more). I love mil sf for what it is, but it is NOT space opera. Space opera is knights with swords in space, or individual explorers going where no man has gone before. They’re traders who end up lost on planets with enormous talking griffins (my YA novel Debris) or people who run into friendly combat medic robots (my novella Theophany). Neither of those are mil sf. They’re sci-fi – though yes, Debris has “magic” that is psychic in nature.

    I love sci-fi. Let’s go write it! :unslings sword: BANZAI!!!!!

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      1. Honestly, you’ve already done it in your fanfics quite a few times. I think if you tried for space samurai and/or space xianxia, you may have a better shot at it. After all, how will Japanese, or Koreans, or Chinese colonize Mars? Or Alpha Centauri? And what if there is something on Mars or Alpha Centauri that makes ki sense work? Or brings nightmare yokai to reality?

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  6. Oh. We have an electric sheep too, but…

    In your dreams. Only in your dreams.

    (Simply a veiled reference to the PKD story I still haven’t actually read, though I’ve seen the movies based on it a FEW times — at least the first one I have. For those as-yet insufficently caffeinated…)

    And no, SpaceX is not going to launch Amazon’s Kuiper-sats this morning, after all.

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        2. The “hammer wires all around the lawn else the sheep will stray” thing is one reason why I have not earnestly electric sheep shopped. Simple works best is fine, but buried wire maintenance sounds like a continuing chore, and it feels like there should be some tech solution involving satellites and frigging laser beams.

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          1. Stan Freberg: “Jacobsen – it’s faster than sheep!”

            Somehow I had remembered that as ‘Toro’; don’t recall ‘Jacobsen’; I Looked It Up.

            PC MAG has a review of 5 electric sheep, and all but one has a cutting width under 9 inches – sounds like it’d take forever.

            Real Roombas have the Virtual Wall – no wires, but wireless ‘beacons’, and their seemingly-dropped ‘Terra’ lawn product used those. Current models from other companies seem to require an app and training.

            I hired a landscaping company. I mowed lawns for my dad, and myself – gasoline, push-reel and electric at various times – and I ain’t gonna do that no more. I figure we aging ronin get to put our geta up on the hassock.

            Nice naginata in the header pic. I see from a quick look that literally is a ‘mowing sword’ (my new info for the day!) and ties in to the intro so very well!

            Liked by 1 person

            1. Yeah, the lawn roombas really ought to have something like the goat shock collars on Clarkson’s Farm, where the virtual boundary is set based on satellite images of the field.

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              1. Since they keep wandering off and bothering other states, Texas should shock collar it’s legislators, purely as a public service.

                Liked by 1 person

            3. Mowing, yard work, and garden was my zen time until I blew out my knees. Limited to a few chores involving lifting and walking.

              Now I have a neighbor with a small yard service company do most. Spread the blessings and save the rest of my body.

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              1. In years when we have grasses in the meadows (this spring was dry, making up for an epically wet winter. Good for the trees, not so for grasses), I’ll put the mower deck on the big (for values) tractor and mow away. When it’s 3-5 minutes between turn arounds, one can do a fair amount of thinking. If it’s not too dusty, perhaps some singing.

                Main meadows, hardly anything, but the far hollow has some impressive weeds. Kat-the-dog is getting hidden when she explores there. Time to mow.

                (Lawn mowing? Not much lawn, and lots of turns, and a whole lot more dust. The little tractor needs its air filter cleaned after mowing.)

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                1. When I was younger and in charge of mowing several lawns, including an open 100′ lot, I made two passes around the edge of the lot, clearing the nooks crannies, and especially the corners. After that, I was able to do a continuous path, spiralling inward without having to stop and reverse. It made the job less frustrating and maybe faster. At least it felt faster.

                  Liked by 1 person

                  1. Part of it though is the lawn guy was very late, and when I gave up and did it, the lawn was above my ankles. I got FIVE construction size trash bags of clippings out of it. So, it was REALLY hard going with stupid little electric mower.
                    Now I need to go clean up the flower beds and remulch. I’m taking time, though, because I feel ill.

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          2. That’s why I haven’t bought one to take care of my postage stamp of a lawn. With my luck I’d set it up wrong and it would go toodling off never to be seen again.

            A while back, I came up with a filk for that…

            The Robot Mower’s Lament

            (To the tune of ‘Wayfaring Stranger’)

            I am a poor, robotic mower

            Cutting through, this world of woe

            But there’s no dog toys, no garden hoses

            In that bright lawn, to which I mow

            Chorus

            I’m mowing there, to see my charger

            I’m mowing there, no more to roam

            I’m only mowing, over turfgrass

            I’m only mowing over home

            I know dark clouds, will gather ‘round me

            I know my way, is rough and steep

            But level fields, spread out before me

            Where Deere and Toros vigil keep

            Chorus x 2

            (Feel free to add verses :-)

            Liked by 3 people

    3. When I read that in Miz Hoyt’s post I thought it might be an allusion to one of those Husqvarna lawn-Roomba contraptions.

      My wife is intrigued by them, but as long as our perfectly good Honda-powered mower remains perfectly good (being Honda, it will be most of forever if I do my part)….

      Liked by 1 person

        1. Must be a mostly flat lawn, not sure the electric sheep (and I’m soooo stealing that from now on) would work on my yard, 1/3 flat, 2/3 hill side. I’ve seen them around town at a few of the more rural business that have big lawns, and they seem to work pretty well.

          Liked by 1 person

        2. Being older and without a mower when I retired, I hired a small lawn service at about the same $100/month. Does it in about 15 minutes even though there are lots of trees, and I don’t have to buy, care for, and use a mower. Older still, mowing would be a weary trial.

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        3. On a large flat lawn without obstacles, an old tech solution was a self-propelled push mower tethered with a rope to a correctly sized drum. Turn it loose and each circuit wound the rope a mower’s width closer. Corners still had to be done manually.

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        4. Given that much land, I get it. We’re about a fifth of that and we both kind of like mowing the lawn.

          Geisinger Medical Center uses lawn-baaaahhhs at their complex in Danville, PA. I’ve seen them trundling around when I went for an appointment.

          Liked by 1 person

  8. Actually, Sarah, your stuff reminds me a lot of that of H. Beam Piper. He always slid in a pro-capitalism, pro-libertarian message into what was always one hell of a story. Even when his protagonists were princes and lords. The message was there, but so was the one hell of a story.

    Liked by 3 people

  9. “Which means that the same people who used to put Classical Allusions in their stories now make them into Just So Marxist Allegories.”

    Ah well. Alea iacta est. There go my Battle of Cannae references, my Promethean references, the bread and circuses, the imperial dreams and all. I used to do that A LOT. It was the closet academic (non-lefty, mind you) in me. I absolutely refuse to make Just So Marxist Allegories, unless they are in the vein of “Marxism delenda est.” Oops. Did it again.

    “I do read mil sf occasionally, but to me it’s a sub-branch of space opera and not even close to the whole of the thing, or even the main part of the thing.”

    I have to try really hard not to make some stories into space opera. Zombies in space keeps inching that way (future chapters). Don’t wanna. There’s the factions like the split military, the independents like the Belters, the corpo remnants (slowly going insane), the commercial station residents (big chunk of population), and all of them vying for the reins of power. The mini-stories (unpublished) from the Fall edge into that territory, where the mechanic goes from station to to ship to moon and back again trying to chase a dream while civilization crumbles around him. There’s the stories of hope where the family ship claws its way back to financial (and emotional) stability amidst everything. There’s the lost soldiers looking for home when everything that was home is too changed to ever be it again. There’s the little orphan genius and her stowaway adventure into the stars.

    The technology is fun to play around with, and the world(s) are endlessly diverting. Gah. Need to write more on the current chapters before I can play around. Anyway.

    Space opera- real space adventure fiction, really, seems rather underserved some days though.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Belters always end up libertarian. I might try one where the Belters end up as a nasty dictatorship but the Gravity Well People have gone full L. Niel Smith.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I modeled them off Appalachians. Wildly independent, only notionally under the same flag, but pull together whenever actually threatened by an outside force. Inside force is just family drama.

        The nasty dictatorship tried to make some inroads with the Belters. Tried Didn’t work. Pointing lots of guns at them escalated quickly. Tried embargo. Failed miserably. Tried threatening their customers. Sort of worked, but the Belters are independent- grow their own food, brew their own alcohol, make their own (tiny) habs and (small, short ranged) ships.

        Only viable threat would be fuel, but the nasty dictator doesn’t have a lock on the fuel. Yet.

        Liked by 1 person

  10. Why is that different from fantasy? Because the game is played for plausibility and without excuses, that’s why. It’s a different mind-set.

    And this point would be most of why I thought for so long I couldn’t really write pure fantasy, even maybe at the vignette-microstory level. Bizarre as it might seem, or be, some of us seem to need that “confining” envelope of “you can do this, but not that” for the fiction-world to “gell” enough for us to be able to work within it. For, especially, that magic door called “gateway writing” to open up wide enough to “see” much — far less have someone like Ellie Maclachlan (see latest vignettes) come along and, essentially, write the whole dang story for us.

    Science-fiction fantasy, hard steampunk — I seem to have to invent the categories, sometimes.

    Even magic, overt or the implicit equivalent, has to be… real-ish. Maybe it’s a little bit like autism; inconvenient as all get-out, absolutely, but certainly not without its rewards.

    Liked by 2 people

  11. Castrated.
    Stratocaster electric guitar.

    There’s a bizarre story idea somewhere in that overlap. Guitars have G strings, after all.

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  12. No Man’s Land is, to me, Weird Tales. Those wild fever dream like stories of dealing with nearly alien worlds or situations, yet done with the most fully realized, most vividly real characters I’ve read.

    And, just from the parts that I read on the substack, that’s the combination that makes it work. The context they are in is insane and completely bonkers, but they are also very very real people, with all the snarls of hopes and contradictions that entail.

    It kind of feels like it’s almost “Skip the Anti-Flashman and Conan the Hermaphrodite vs the Cyborg Slavers, or Why Playing God is a Bad Item(tm) with Unintended Consequences”

    But again, I’ve only read the excerpts in substack. I’m going to wait for the September release to take a weekend to swallow it in one lump whole.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Re future classics, let’s look in the great archives:

    KIRK
    Spock, don’t call me Admiral. Don’t you remember: you used to call me Jim… Now what’s your question?

    SPOCK
    Your use of language has altered since our arrival. It is currently laced with — shall I say — more colorful metaphors: “Double dumb ass on you” — and so forth…

    KIRK
    You mean profanity. That’s simply the way they talk here. Nobody pays any attention to you if you don’t swear every other word. You’ll find it in all the literature of the period.

    SPOCK
    For example?

    Kirk thinks.

    KIRK
    Oh, the complete works of Jacqueline Susan, the novels of Harold Robbins….

    SPOCK
    Ah… The giants.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. As I was trying to write…

      my Android locked up and made me start over.

      But I am no Ronin. I recognize no earthy emperor or king.

      And my wife took away all my swords.

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      1. Ronin is a masterless Samurai. Can be an unemployed nuisance/bandit. Can be an epic hero (ex: Miyamoto Musashi, The 47 Ronin)

        No swords? Sell your cloak and buy one. (grin)

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  15. As a published author I imagine you get a lot more worked up about classification than a non-published author Sarah. At least that is the perspective of a sad striving author just grinding along with only a few news articles and poems that anyone has ever paid me money for. I will be happy to just write the darned novel before I start worrying about genre. Where do you draw the line even when things like genre can get so muddled. Low-Fantasy Mystery? Mystery with AKSHUAL history to it (Steven Sailor and Ellis Peters come to mind)? Science Fantasy with psychic powers but also maybe a mystery AND a love story?

    Now as a reader looking from the outside, I can do a Kindle Unlimited or library catalog search and say, “I want a Sci-Fi story with 6 legged cats and political intrigue” and Boom! You have Honor Harrington.

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    2. no. I don’t get more worked up. Also, why are you unpublished? Are you waiting for traditional publishing, really?
      You need to know the classifications to sell the book.

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      1. who buys poetry? Also, I have a hard time putting stuff out there, finishing stuff, marketing stuff. All the usual BS. So, I lurk in your blog and keep grinding away at the novel and hoping to make it to the big leagues – you know trying to finish a novel.

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          1. Yes ma’am *saluting*. Not to be a kiss up, but if I actually finish it, you’ll get a dedication for this blog’s encouragement dragging me across the line. :)

            Liked by 1 person

        2. Put up the poetry anyway. Someone will buy it. And it helps other poets to have more poetry out there. Says the guy who only has two literary poetry items up for sale.

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  16. As I understand it, Ronin are Samurai with no master.

    Being American, we are all Ronin, because THAT Sumbitch ain’t been born.

    Liked by 3 people

  17. If your lawn is fenced, there is no special garden or shrubbery, one goat will keep grass and shrubbery trimmed on at least 2 acres. Don’t ask me how I know.

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  18. Aww. I don’t mind reading what puts hair on a woman’s chest; that just gives us an opportunity to… OH. never mind me. /whistles as he walks away looking at everything else.

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                1. Catz rip-ports:

                  All cats must go to the vet sometime. At least, that’s what the boys are starting to learn. Neighborcat does not like riding in the truck. I don’t use the cat carrier for him- he doesn’t need it. Doesn’t whine or hiss or claw, but he Makes His Displeasure Known. From the footwell, glaring up at me.

                  Once we got to the vet though, it’s all good. He followed me in like he’s on an invisible leash. We get inside, get comfortable and we wait our turn. Usually.

                  Not this time, though. Once we hit the door, he took off like a rocket. Kittyzooms through the lobby and he’s gone. The secretary gives me that look, like “what did you do that for?” She must be new. Neighborcat doesn’t run off like that for no reason though.

                  She asked “Why didn’t you put him in a pet carrier? Why aren’t you running after him? He could cause all kinds of trouble in here!” And so on. The vet lady then poked her head in, telling new girl it was fine, and me to come on back to the exam room.

                  Neighborcat was right there waiting on us. Dead mouse in mouth. “I didn’t realize we had a rodent problem. Where’d he get that from?” Neighborcat knows, but doesn’t tell. He got his scritches, I disposed of the corpse, and he jumped up on to the exam table. Not his first rodeo.

                  Vet doc has heard stories of the “I identify as a killing machine” cat. Less than a minute from hitting the door to dead mouse acquired. It’s not free work though. Neighborcat expects his scritches for every kill he makes. That’s the rules.

                  After enough poking prodding and rotating the cat, he gets his clean bill of health. Shots all up to date, brand new flea collar around his neck, and back to the house. This time he sits in the seat, curled up like a fuzzy bun. No glares. Happy little murder machine is happy.

                  Doofus is the complete opposite for vet trips. He hates the outdoors with the fires of a thousand suns. Kitty carrier all the way, and he moans and cries the entire way there. Once inside though, he’s a new man-cat. Indoors is fun! Greets all the people along the way, begs for pets everywhere. Has to be rescued from the trash can despite it having a lid (he’s special that way).

                  The orange fuzzmonster is healthier this time with a little reduced weight. Nastycat keeps him more active, demanding playtime every day whether Doofus is being lazy or not. Othercat helps out with the zoomy chase time, all around the house, too. I end up having to hold him while he gets examinized, because he’s too squirmy. Keeps trying to lick the glove when she’s poking at him. Wierdcat is weird.

                  More drama on the car ride home. Why can’t we build a hallway all the way to the vet, so it’s never outdoors? The orange fuzzmonster is full of such ideas.

                  Nasty and Othercat go at the same time. Both love the car rides, so long as I keep the window cracked. They like smelling all the new smells along the way- especially the greasy spoon diner the Nasty likes to dive in. Nasty climbs up on my shoulder and I have to carry the big chonker in. He’s huge, but likes to be carried, paws on my shoulder and looking around.

                  Othercat takes his examinerizeration with gentlemanly aplomb. No fuss, lots of fuzz, purring away on the cold exam table. Nastyboi on the other hand gets the Hannibal Lector treatment. Full body restraints, hissing and fighting the whole way. Nasty does NOT like veternizing. He had one shot and one ‘xam, way back when and that’s enough for anybody forever. He’s still a bit underweight, so gets checked for worms and such. Nada. Told to keep an eye on him and health, so as usual I do.

                  All fuzzbois accounted for and passed their tests why flying (or at least hovering) colors. Spotted the teeny yellow cat on the way back, feasting on a field mouse. Looked a bit thin, that one. Somebody needs to check up on her. Problem for later, though, she had food for the moment. Neighborcat was especially ecstatic once we got back. There was a squirrel stuck in the lone tree out back.

                  The lone tree is an Appalachian red oak, a volunteer from Himself only knows where. Few red oaks around in my neck of the woods. And about fifteen feet up in the first branch is a red squirrel, furiously scolding Neighborcat. “The RLF owns this tree! No cats allowed! We demand reparations for our fallen brothers! Equity for the squirrely nation! Bow down and respect our superior elevation!”

                  This lasts about as long as it takes Othercat to sprint across the back lot and straight up the trunk. Seeing this, the valiant pioneer of the RLF bravely fled, scurrying along the limb into a flying leap-

                  -that was intercepted before he even hit the ground. Neighborcat’s flying tackle chomp and wrench disoriented it just enough for him to get his claws in. Then Othercat and Nasty arrived, and his fate was sealed. One more martyr of the RLF, cruelly cut down in his prime, a gentle giant with dreams of becoming a hero of the revolution now slain by the ebul catytalists.

                  Proud felines got their scritches in return, and the squirrely corpse was interred with all due honors (a shovel full of red clay). Chicken dinner was well received by all, most especially the orange fuzzmonster who declared it the bestest thing since ever! Nastycat declared the hood of my grey hoodie is a fantastic napping spot, so he’s been riding along while I walk the property.

                  Life continues to amble along for the fuzzy foursome. No baths needed this week so far, so that’s a plus. Good bit of health, good food, and sunny spots to nap in- as well as the verminous horde of the RLF, the feathery burbs of the apocalypse, and other smaller interlopers have kept Neighborcat, Slayer Of All That Is Small, content. The nights are growing longer and the temperature just starting to shift. Less rain of late, but lots of growing weeds and weedy trees that require culling.

                  But that’s for hoomins to worry about. For the furry horde, all is as it should be. Othercat has his happy indoors and occasional chicken pot to obsess over. Nastycat has his pink dino who he still trying to teach to hunt sticks. Othercat has his regular hunts and snuggle sessions with his lady-love. And Neighborcat continues his one cat war with the world.

                  Y’all find some peace out there, wherever you are. Peace need not be a slow, static thing. There is peace in motion, in effortful work, in the pardonable pride and contentment of seeing a job progressing well and as it should be, even if it’s not done yet. When things are going well, take a moment to appreciate it, like Doofus and his beloved sunbeam nap. When things are going poorly, take teeny tiny steps. Manageable ones, with low goals to proceed. Sneak up on success that way like Neighborcat stalking an unsuspecting burb. then strike, once you’re in striking distance! Head pats are optional.

                  Liked by 1 person

  19. “Sit up. Stop chewing gum. Did you bring enough for everyone?”

    Me, pulling huge wad outta my mouth: “I think so, but are you sure anyone else would want some?”

    Me, at principal’s office: “What?!? It was her idea!”

    (h/t Calvin and Hobbes.)

    Liked by 3 people

  20. *snort*

    “I’m sure future generations will wonder at hysterical leftist women dressing like Ketchup bottles.”

    I’m dying of laughter over here, at that mental image…

    Liked by 2 people

  21. I earned the English Teacher Frown of Mild Disapproval™ by telling one of my former High School English teachers that I write genre fiction. It’s fun, it sells, and I can play with history and not have to do ten or fifteen footnotes per page.

    Well do I recall when a history grad prof gave us the title of the next week’s book and said, “And it won the [history aware].” We all groaned. When she pressed, we confessed that the winners thus far had been tedious as heck. She scolded us. The next book was better, and shorter. Then back to the slog.

    Liked by 1 person

  22. “they’re hoping you think their lack of plot and awkward phrasing is intentional and “deep.”

    This applies to other art forms. I shall now touch the third rail and mention Pink Floyd.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I really want to learn how to compose music, which is a major reason I minored in Music as an undergrad.

      However, this”applying to other art forms” is also a major reason I didn’t want to major in music, nor pursue it in graduate school. I saw what my professors considered “beautiful” — and I am aware of the kinds of music gets pushed as “beautiful” — and it is a “beauty” I don’t want anything to do with, thank you very much!

      I had a roommate that thought I appreciated atonal music — I never fully understood why he thought that — because the only use I have for atonal music is to inflict snippets of it, see the pain in their faces, and say “you’re not going to believe this, but some people consider this to be beautiful music!”

      Liked by 1 person

      2. Yes, yes, yes. Don’t get me started on “modern worship music.” Insipid, faddish explorations of the chromatic scale with lyrics that reduce our majestic Creator to our happy, clappy, sappy pappy.

        Like

        1. I was looking through a new denominational hymnal … almost no praise tunes, lots of old classics with the original, not “gender and socially neutral” words. It is singable, and full of things to use when times are tough.

          This kitty vehemently approves.

          Liked by 3 people

          1. The near-monopoly (about 70% of the market) held by Oregon Catholic Press and/or GIA Publications on Catholic hymnals would be a bigger scandal were it more widely known. My personal bete noire is the execrable “Gather Us In.”

            If the universe ever slips up so badly that I become Most Holy (I will take the Chair of Peter in the name Cerebus I) for even a day, I’m going to bat out an encyclical banning anything Marty Haugen was ever in the same room with, on the theologically unassailable grounds that it’s Marty Haugen.

            Liked by 1 person

            2. We have Source and Summit (yearly missal with chant tunes including the antiphons and many hymns in back) and St. Michael’s Hymnal, its hardbound partner.

              Many public domain hymns and tunes. Some excessively nerdy pairings that strain usage. We use all the antiphons except the offertory ones, and also sing hymns.

              It makes me so happy to sing the propers. It is just so right to get the full content that is supposed to be default for the Church, and to be able to sing it back to God.

              Liked by 2 people

      3. Thank goodness you didn’t come down with a bad case of Stokhausen Syndrome!

        Cellist here. I did 5 years in a New Music Ensemble, amongst other more converntional pursuits.

        I’ve played Stockhausen…

        Liked by 2 people

      4. There’s a hilarious country song called “Gimme That Ol’ Atonal Music” that does, in fact, have an atonal insert. The rest is pure country, in the vein of “gimme that ol’ atonal music that Daddy used to play.”

        Liked by 3 people

  23. “they’re hoping you think their lack of plot and awkward phrasing is intentional and “deep.”

    It’s amazing to me how The Emperor’s New Clothes can be applied to literally, (sorry, not sorry, but pun intended) every single thing.

    Liked by 1 person

  24. Pet peeve triggered:

    Fae: related to faerie

    Fey: someone who sees their doom approaching, knows it’s unavoidable, and has no more sh*ts to give.

    Athos is fey in Man in the Iron Mask, Feanor and Turin are fey in the Silmarillion, Strum Brightblade is fey. Rumplestiltskin is not fey.

    Liked by 3 people

    2. Historically, “fae” is not a word in English. It used to be a word in French, though.

      The Old French was “faé” or “fée.” The meaning “of Faerie” or “a fairy” is perfectly historically accurate, as well as “magic”, “enchanted,” and so on. It’s Middle English “fai”, “ffey,” “faye,” or “faie,” and came into Modern English with many spellings, including “fey.”

      OTOH, fey in the other sense is derived from Middle English “fei” or “feie,” which means “doomed to die”, “mortally wounded and currently dying”, “dead”, “the dead,” “fatal” (as in a fatal choice that would lead to your death), or “unlucky.” This word comes from Old English “fǣȝe,” and is paralleled by Old High German “feigi.” It also came inst

      There’s also Middle English “fei”, which means “the liver.”

      Liked by 3 people

  25. I was under the impression that “literary”, when applied to a genre, meant “real world” (usually urban or European setting) and “contemporary” (meaning within the last 50 years, depending on setup.)

    The reason so much of it turns out to be deadly dull to readers like us is because the other assumptions are “interiority” (aka navel-gazing) and self-discovery, and there’s usually a whole lot of ennui built on top of that.

    Folk who are into the sort of works you write want problem-solving, not circular philosophical musings, positive and uplifting endings, not despair or degradation, and connection rather than loneliness. None of which is the topic of today’s “literary” works, which seek to be eternal and end up being ephemeral.

    Like

      1. Well, yes, but they take the interiority and ennui tropes of the mainstream lit fic and apply them to the New! and Never Before Done! parts of SF and fantasy that the dedicated readers roll their eyes at and know it’s already been done to death.

        Liked by 1 person

  26. Per another SF writer:

    “Do Androids dream of Electric Sheep?”.

Speaking of Which, when I was in Japan, last year I noticed an interesting bit of “technology; a small grey box merrily self-navigating around a large chunk of “parkland”.

Closer examination (as you do when a tourist) revealed that the beast in question was a “robot’ lawn-mower. branded, “Husquvarna” better know for high-quality hunting rifles, serious dirt-bikes and sewing-machines.

The “Scandi Robot” deftly avoided concrete paths, rubbish bins and stray tourists and. when “finished”.” motored over to what looked like a decent-sized dog kennel. spun around and backed itself into the charger station.

Right there in the most “robot-friendly” country on the plane, was a sleek, Nordic contender

    Like

  27. The freaking Guardian news-tampon. Is now attacking the flood/dam guys at Caesar’s Creek Lake! Because they did their job and let water out into the Little Miami, at a time also convenient to the Secret Service protecting VP Vance!!

    F those officious turdalists. Have they ever squished and scraped their muddy way down the Little Miami in a dry summer, or at the end of a time when the dam is holding back water instead of releasing some? Or have they ever seen how high it can get in a rainy summer if they don’t keep a good balance?

    If you look at the Little Miami and Caesar’s Creek water levels this summer, you will see tons of “abrupt releases of water.” Every week. Because that is the job of the entire flood control system — to know how and when to hold it back or let it go, without killing fish or destroying recreation uses!

    F them. F them and the entirety of their excuses exchanged for reporting. They want us all to die in a flood or a drought. F them.

    Liked by 3 people

  28. Caesar’s Creek State Park is actually leased by the State of Ohio from the Army Corps of Engineers. There is a big dam which turned Caesar’s Creek Lake into a sort of holding tank for water in case of heavy rains, so that the surrounding bodies of water will not overflow their banks. The water is then released again later. Ohio is not generally short of river water, because the rivers are fed by springs as well as rain, so flood control is usually the problem.

    The reason Ohio usually doesn’t have deadly floods all the time is because we have tons of flood control measures. Which our forefathers paid for. And everyone then can use the state rivers, and the lakes that are in parks.

    F the Guardian. The only worse thing they could do is insult Xenia tornado preparation. F them.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. I had to go looking based on this comment and finally found a story from a Cincinnati station (nothing reported in the Dayton area). None of the quotes from the original story are from US media, mentions similar situations for other politicians (including Gore) at the request of the Secret Service.

      And BTW, for those of you outside this area, we had heavy rains, flash flood warnings, and high river levels on the Great Miami River (that the Little Miami feeds) during the period in question. So releasing water from part of the system totally out of line (insert eye roll here)

      Basically a nothing burger that the usual gang of idiots are desperately trying to make into something, anything, to go after Team Orange Man

      Like

      1. Thank you…. Teaching watercraft operation and safety as a day camp for kids, for Greene County, was one of my first summer jobs. And we did it at Caesar’s Creek Lake, so it just hit me hard. Lots of people use the park and the surrounding water system.

        My mom was rolling her eyes hard about it. She thinks they are trying to distract from the Cincinnati police chief downplaying the gang beating at the jazz festival.

        She also wishes there was another lake/dam even further upstream, because of all the parts of the upper Little Miami that flood frequently. Such as the place where my second grade teacher lived when I was a little kid. But a lot of those places are now incorporated in another newer park, because historical sites, but also to own bigger chunks of the flood plain and stop people trying to build houses where they will get flooded out frequently (like every spring).

        Like

  29. Per another SF writer:

    “Do Robots dream of Electric Sheep?”.

    Speaking of Which, when I was in Japan, last year I noticed an interesting bit of “technology; a small grey box merrily self-navigating around a large chunk of “parkland”.

    Closer examination (as you do when a tourist) revealed that the beast in question was a “robot’ lawn-mower. branded, “Husquvarna” better know for precision rifle, serious dirt-bikes and sewing-machine.

    The “Scandi Robot” deftly avoided concrete paths, rubbish bins and stray tourists and. when “finished”.” motored over to what looked like a decent-sized dog kennel. spun around and backed itself into the charger station.

    Right there in the most “robot-friendly” country on the plane, was a sleek, Nordic contender.

    Like

    1. “Husquvarna” better know for precision rifle, serious dirt-bikes and sewing-machine.

      Before this, I’d heard of them for making chainsaws, and none of those things.

      Liked by 1 person

  30. Pingback: Instapundit » Blog Archive » IN WHICH I GET VERY UPSET IN A WAY ONLY AN OLD SF PRO WOULD:  Alas We Are Ronin.

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