These two images of the full Moon, shown side by side, were created from the same data captured with a Seestar S30 all-in-one telescope-camera-observatory. However, they were processed in differing ways. The data was collected as a digital video file, which was subsequently stacked to create a still image with reduced noise and enhanced clarity. The image on the left is a color representation of the Moon as might be observed at the eyepiece of a short focal length backyard telescope. Whereas the image on the right has been rendered in false color to accentuate changes in surface albedo or variations in the sunlight reflected from the Moon’s surface. Indirectly, these changes in albedo reveal differences in surface mineralogy. Changes in hue, between the elevated crustal areas towards the Southern Polar Region and the vast Maria or Lava Seas, that dominate the Moon’s visible ‘near-side’, are quite obvious here. Photos taken on March 13, 2025.
Photo Details: Data was processed using PIPP, AS!3, Registax6, AffinityPhoto2.6 and AstroClean A.
High on the list of cooking things that I’ve got far more opinions on than anyone has ever asked of me (and may have even, at times, prayed I’d stop yapping about), are homemade ice cream sandwiches. Why? Because it’s devastating when you realize something that should bring us nothing but incandescent summer joy — ice cream! cookies! — rarely work as well as promised. Most cookies become so hard once frozen, you feel like you’re breaking a tooth with each bite. Unyielding cookies also squeeze the ice cream out the sides, leading to drips down your arms and an immediate bad mood (for adults; kids, naturally, love it). While writing Smitten Kitchen Keepers, I became obsessed with creating a deeply nostalgic homemade chipwich-style ice cream sandwich that did everything right and I had three big a-ha moments along the way:
Doesn’t she look happy? Of course she does. Her life is pretty sweet, after all, lots of love and walks and rolls in the grass. It’s good to be a pup.
Also, for those who don’t know, yes, indeed, I do officiate weddings! It’s for friends and such. I mean, I was probably going to be at the wedding anyway. Why not make myself useful.
We’ll be back on Monday. Until then, have a fabulous weekend, and if you’re in part of the US currently under a heat dome, keep yourself cool and remember to hydrate, okay? Thank you.
At one time, stromatolites were the dominant life form on this planet. The atmosphere on Earth 3.8 billion years ago (bya) was made up of methane, ammonia, sulfur, and other gases, which are toxic to most life forms. However, stromatolites, one of Earth's oldest, thrived in this ancient and toxic atmosphere. The oxygen-rich atmosphere that made complex life on our planet possible was largely a result of stromatolites (cyanobacteria) photosynthesizing during the Archaean and Proterozoic eons (3.8 - 0.5 bya). In addition, stromatolites created the first reef environments on Earth. Today, stromatolites are far from being dominant, and until 1958, they were thought to be extinct when they were re-discovered offshore of Western Australia. The photo above was taken on July 14, 2005, in Shark Bay, Western Australia.
It may not be Halloween, but that shouldn’t stop you from learning about the history of depictions of witches throughout the decades in film and media. Author and witch-film-connoisseur Payton McCarty-Simas is here today to take you through a wild ride (on a broomstick) over feminism, horror, and women, in her new book, That Very Witch: Fear, Feminism, and the American Witch Film.
PAYTON MCCARTY-SIMAS:
More than anything else, my book, That Very Witch: Fear, Feminism, and the American Witch Film, is the product of hundreds of hours spent watching movies. I started the project that eventually became this book in college–– or, more specifically, during COVID, revisiting some of my comfort movies during lockdown. As I worked my way through more recent favorites like The Witch and Color Out of Space and old standbys like Rosemary’s Baby and George Romero’s Season of the Witch, I started noticing visual and thematic patterns. Soon, I was hooked on witch films (though as my list of favorites might suggest I always have been), and I started watching in earnest.
The big idea of That Very Witch is that, by tracing how depictions of witches evolve and change in American horror cinema over time, we can learn about the state of feminism in a given moment, essentially taking the cultural temperature in the process. I trace specific threads through the decades––namely psychedelic imagery, counterculturalism, and feminine rage among others––but each and every smaller idea relied on a huge amount of cinematic data to really put my finger on. I watched over three hundred hours of film for this project, noting different patterns and shifts from decade to decade over hundreds of pages of notes, several Letterboxd lists, and a slightly unhinged-looking conspiracy board.
While all genres move in cycles that capitalize on trends––consider the YA dystopian romance boom that followed The Hunger Games––horror is particularly trenchant given the films’ consistent popularity, relatively low budgets, and quick turnarounds. Simply put, the industry makes a lot of horror movies looking for a quick buck, and, given that profit-motive, producers are always responding to popular demand for a given subject. The terrifying proto-viral success of The Blair Witch Project gives us an explosion of found footage horror, and eventually the runaway blockbuster that was Paranormal Activity, which in turn gives us a rash of suburban hauntings, and so on. As scholars like Robin Wood have long suggested, then, horror can be viewed as an extension of our collective unconscious (in his words our “collective nightmares”), our national fears made manifest at the intersection of broad commercial incentives, personal artistic impulses, and the zeitgeist.
When it comes to witches, I noticed that in moments of high-profile feminist activism, say, the 1960s or the 2010s, witches become more popular––and more frightening––on screen. That’s not to say that witches disappear in other eras, far from it. But the characters of those depictions take on different tones and valences depending on the politics and trends of the moment, and that’s just as indicative of the politics of the age. Witches can be mall goths or hippie chicks, old women in pointy hats or teenage girls in low-rise jeans and lip gloss (or all of the above!) depending on the decade. They can be frightening or funny or fierce. But it takes a lot of hours of films, not to mention countless hours of historical research, to understand what depictions are most common when, and why.
As always, I’m taking time off during the summer. This year, though, we’re trying something new! We’re sharing the audio of previous live Q&As that I did on YouTube. If you only listen to the podcast, this will be all new to you! We’ll be back with our regular format mid-August. This episode includes my […]
The blossoming of the buttercup flower (Ranunculus genus) heralds the arrival of spring in the eastern Mediterranean. Observing the blooming process of this gorgeous little flower, I noticed a fascinating sequence in its reproductive structure. As the petals gently unfurl, the stigma at the top of the pistil reaches maturity first, its pale white/yellow hue standing out as an inviting signal to pollinating insects. Meanwhile, the stamens, still tightly clustered in a circle at the flower’s center, remain immature, their pollen inaccessible (top photo). They fully develop only after a few days, extending outward to release pollen (bottom photo). This ensures a strategic separation of female and male reproductive phases -- perhaps a mechanism to enhance cross-pollination and genetic diversity. Photos taken in our home garden in Rishon LeZion, Israel, on March 24, 2025.
A starred review means the Library Journal found The Shattering Peace particularly noteworthy, which makes me happy. The review is here, but I’ll quote the last line: “Highly recommended for readers who love broad sweeping space operas and science fiction with a high quotient of dry humor and witty sarcasm.” I bet that’s you, isn’t it?
Also, a lovely review of When the Moon Hits Your Eye in the Seattle Times, in which the reviewer says that they admire me “for my impressive ability to make readers laugh out loud and then realize mid-chuckle that there are larger, deeper themes at play.” It’s nice when reviewers pick up on that.
More important than writing for an audience, is writing for yourself. Author Jason Sanford has chosen to write true to himself above all else, not holding anything back in this Big Idea for his newest novel, We Who Hunt Alexanders. Come along and see how being neurodiverse helped shape this story, as well as his own story.
JASON SANFORD:
In fiction, the mask comes off.
Which, yeah, not a revelation for most authors and readers. After all, fiction has long lifted the veil on reality and explored topics, ideas, and dreams that are seen as too difficult, unsettling, or daring to discuss in our everyday lives. Fiction is also a window for seeing life from different perspectives – a way to escape from our individually limited viewpoints and experience the world through the eyes of other people.
But that’s not what I mean when I say that with fiction, the mask comes off. For me, that statement is instead extremely personal and extremely direct. Because as someone on the autistic spectrum, when I write my stories the mask I normally wear has indeed been removed.
If you’re not familiar with masking, it’s a strategy used by some people on the autistic spectrum as a survival mechanism. A way to live, work and be somewhat accepted in a world where how we see and experience life is not only not welcomed but frequently shunned.
I once discussed being on the spectrum during a convention panel. After the moderator listened to me describe how I masked, she retorted “It’s the science fiction genre – we’re all a little bit autistic.” She then added that masking was nothing more than learning to fit in with others, which everyone must do in life.
I wish it was that simple.
When I was young, well before I started kindergarten, my family knew there was something different about how I interacted with the world. I had trouble understanding what other people wanted. I preferred being alone. I’d hyperfocus on whatever caught my attention. And my words – well, instead of modeling my speech on how others spoke, I crafted my own words and ways of talking.
My parents put me through years of speech therapy to try and teach me to speak like the other kids. They also made the decision, based on the recommendation of a close relative who worked in special education, to hide that I was on the spectrum. We lived in rural Alabama and my relative feared if people found out I’d be redlined out of regular schools and classes. As my relative explained to my parents, in our state that outcome would be very bad for me.
My family also hid from me the knowledge that I was on the spectrum. I only learned about this long after I’d become an adult. I’d spent a lifetime wondering what was wrong with how I saw the world. And suddenly BAM!, it all made sense.
Because of all that, I was taught to heavily mask. To hide who I was inside. I basically underwent what is now called behavioral management therapy. And once I started school, I taught myself both consciously and unconsciously to mask even harder. After all, how many times does a kid need to be beat up or told there’s something wrong with them before they hide who they truly are?
My family made the best choices they could and I don’t blame them. But yeah, those years were rough. What saved me was the science fiction and fantasy genre. By reading fiction, I not only escaped from my day-to-day reality but also the pain of wondering what was wrong with me. And as an added bonus, fiction helped me understand the world and the people around me. I still remember reading certain stories and going, “Oh, that’s why people act like that.” Or realizing “That’s what normal people do in those situations.”
Eventually, that love of reading turned into a desire to write my own stories. And that’s when I discovered that by writing my own fiction, I could drop the mask. Through stories, I could show the world who I always was and always will be.
The SF/F stories I write have always been neurodiverse, even when I don’t blatantly write about being on the spectrum. Because of that I’ve been frequently called a writer of strange science fiction stories, or placed in the weird SF/F subgenre. So many times I wanted to tell people that one of my stories wasn’t weird – it was merely neurodiverse. But it’s hard to take off the mask in public even when I unmask with my writing.
But with my new novella We Who Hunt Alexanders, I decided to name it. To say, this is a story about neurodiversity. That this is a story about being on the spectrum.
Of course, that’s not all We Who Hunt Alexanders is about. It’s also a gothic dark fantasy focused on a young neurodiverse monster dealing with both her mom’s wrong expectations for her life and the religious extremists hunting them down. It’s a story about the anger and hatred we’re experiencing in today’s politics. It’s about the people harmed by the powerful fighting back to save those they love. It’s about having hope even when everyone wants you to forsake that emotion.
But for me, the story will always be about lifting my mask and saying, “This is my life. This is who I am.”
I write my stories so anyone can read them, including those who are not neurodiverse. But I also write them for myself.
I cannot tell you how many times I have shared something from my childhood and my wife has had to explain to me that it was absolutely NOT normal (we all assume that what we grew up with was normal, right?). Corporal punishment was one of them. Kids were getting hit at my school constantly. I don’t know if any of the parents had a problem with it (mine certainly didn’t). Even the littlest kids, like preps! (Prep is like kindergarten, it’s where the 4-5 year olds go).
I’m sorry this page is late. Sometimes posting these comics just feels like too much for me when I am sitting deep in my trauma. I’ve been having a lot of ‘I thought I dealt with that years ago’ stuff coming up lately and it’s left me a bit unbalanced. Thanks for understanding.
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The faint sunspots on the Sun's photosphere shown above were taken without filters, but taking advantage of the opacity of the overhead clouds. There's also a portion of an atmospheric corona that can be seen around the Sun.
When the light of a bright celestial object passes through the water drops and or tiny ice crystals that compose thin clouds, multiple colors can result in either coronae or iridescent clouds due to diffraction processes -- the cloud droplets are slightly larger than the wavelengths of visible light. The exact angle at which the maximum and minimum of light intensity vary depends both on the size of the atmospheric particle and on the wavelength. The shape of the particle isn't decisive in the diffractive process.
For example, if all the particles had the same shape, the diffraction angle would depend only on the wavelength of the light, and this would be split into rings. If the dimensions of the drops and ice are similar, then round coronas are formed. Otherwise, the corona appears frayed, or the light generates only iridescence.
Coronas are made up of a series of colored circles or rings superimposed on each other or disjointed, with a radius varying from a few arc minutes to about 10 degrees to 13 degrees. The rings take on the colors of the spectrum with red on the outside, unlike the halos, which have red on the inside.
The clouds that generate coronae must be thin and semi-transparent, such as altostratus or altocumulus clouds. Coronae can form in any season and in any location. In rare instances, their formation is caused by pollen grains. Photo taken on February 28, 2025.
Photo Details: Nikon Z9 at 32 ISO camera; Nikon Z 400 f/4.5 lens; stopped at f/10; 1/32000 of a second exposure time.
Shown above is a bee swarm I observed on an olive tree one day this past spring. The swarm's queen, thanks to her pheromone, can govern an average colony of 40 to 50 thousand bees. In spring, when pollen resources are abundant, the queen increases oviposition, thus producing some 1,500 eggs per day. In these conditions, the hive will quickly double in size, and then the pheromone will no longer be perceived by the workers, who will begin to build royal cells to give life to a new queen.
When the new queen is born, a portion of the colony (with the old queen at the head) will leave the hive and settle on a nearby tree branch. At this point, the explorer bees will look for a new home suitable for hosting the swarm. This exploration and relocation may take anywhere from a couple of hours to a few days. Note that the new queen, with her workers, remains at the site of the original hive. Photo taken on April 3, 2025, from Sampieri, Sicily.
For her novel The Tapestry of Time, author Kate Heartfield took a real moment in time, involving a real object, and gave it just a little twist, threading a needle between fantasy and reality. What time? What object? Read on!
KATE HEARTFIELD:
On July 14, 1944, the New Yorker ran a brilliant cover to celebrate the Allied invasion of Normandy almost six weeks before. The design, by Rea S. Irvin, was an homage to the 11th century Bayeux Tapestry, which chronicled Duke William of Normandy’s conquest of England.
It seemed fitting. Bayeux was the first town liberated, and where the exiled leader of the Free French Forces, Charles de Gaulle, chose to make his first speech after the invasion, on June 14.
But when he made that speech in Bayeux, the tapestry wasn’t there. In fact, even a month later when the New Yorker ran that cover, very few people on Earth knew where the tapestry was.
The tapestry (actually a kind of embroidery, but everyone calls it a tapestry) is massive: about 70 metres long. It was made sometime around 1070 C.E. and is basically a long comic strip, missing its final panels. When the Second World War began, it was put into a storage cellar in Bayeux.
Like many fascists, the Nazis were obsessed with trying to fit historical facts into their twisted narrative. Heinrich Himmler and many of his gang of archaeologists, historians and occultists saw the Bayeux Tapestry as a Germanic artifact showing the glorious past and future of their master race (because Duke William had Norse ancestry). Groups of Nazi officers and scholars started “inspecting” the tapestry (and at least one cut a piece off). Himmler was renovating a castle in Germany (using the forced labour of prisoners from two concentration camps) and stuffing it with looted medieval artifacts, to serve as the centre of the SS cult. In another timeline, that could have been the fate of the Bayeux Tapestry.
We often talk these days about the importance of putting grit in the gears of fascism, about the weaponization of paperwork. That’s what kept the Bayeux Tapestry in France, although some of the people putting grit in the gears were from other branches of the fascist project who just didn’t share Himmler’s particular brand of weird. In 1941, one of those branches managed to get the tapestry moved (in a truck running on an engine converted to charcoal because of the lack of gasoline) to a more remote storage facility, the Château de Sourches, where it stayed until 1944.
There, it would be safer against bombing – and also, not coincidentally, less subject to gangs of Nazi historians, amateur and otherwise, wielding scissors.
With the tide turning against Germany in 1944, Himmler decided he’d been stymied by bureaucracy long enough. He hatched a secret operation to take the tapestry first to Paris, and then to Berlin. They did manage to move the tapestry (in extremely hazardous conditions) to the Louvre, a few weeks after D-Day. But by the time Himmler managed to send two SS men to retrieve it in August, the people of Paris had risen up and liberated the city before the Allies got there. The Nazi commander of the city had to tell Himmler’s goons that the Resistance had just taken the Louvre, where the tapestry was being stored; they were welcome to try to get it.
(My main source for this part of the story is The Bayeux Tapestry: The Life Story of a Masterpiece by Carola Hicks, which is great.)
The story of the tapestry’s movements in the summer of 1944 is the inspiration and framework for my novel The Tapestry of Time, which is about four clairvoyant sisters racing against the Nazis to prevent them from using it for their nefarious ends. Think Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark, except the tapestry instead of the ark, and instead of an American professor, the protagonist is an English lesbian who works at the Louvre.
I wove clairvoyance into the story because I was interested in exploring how we learn things about our past and dream about our future – and how fascism would like us to believe that we know things about our past, and can dream about our future. I often use fantastical elements to literalize metaphors and help us see the past in new ways, and this one helped me raise questions about how we can trust information, and the manipulation of gut feelings. Also, it was fun.
It was fascinating doing the research into the training given to the saboteurs and spies who helped the Resistance (which informed the Nazi-punching, and Nazi-shooting and Nazi-stabbing, in this novel). I will admit that when it came to learning what I needed to know about Nazi institutions and individuals, I sometimes found it draining to do the research about an evil that is still so fresh, and unfortunately so familiar. But these are stories we have to keep telling, because fascism will never stop trying to abuse history for its own ends.
This summer, I’m travelling to Dunkirk, to stand on the beach where my grandfather survived the strafing and bombing from German planes overhead. I’ll go to the beaches where the Allied forces landed four years later. I’ll go to Bayeux, where the tapestry survives, and is about to go out of public view for a couple of years of renovations (and a loan to the British Museum). If there’s a lesson I take from the many near-misses in the long history of the Bayeux Tapestry, it’s that small acts of courage or even just stubbornness, with a little luck, can change the future. My novel is my small offering of thanks to those who went before us and one way, I hope, to keep their stories alive.
Let’s take a look at five Akkerman standard inks: 16 Oranje Boven, 17 Staten-Generaal Rood, 18 Garuda Rood, 19 Rood Haags Pluche and 20 Pulchri Pink. You can purchase these inks at a few retailers including Vanness Pens.
Swabs:
Left to right:16 Oranje Boven, 17 Staten-Generaal Rood, 18 Garuda Rood, 19 Rood Haags Pluche and 20 Pulchri Pink
Writing samples:
Let's take a look at how the ink behaves on fountain pen friendly papers: Rhodia, Tomoe River, and Leuchtturm.
Dry Time: 40-80 seconds
Water Resistance: Medium
Feathering: None
Show through: Medium
Bleeding: None
Other properties: All five had low-medium shading. Oranje Boven had low gold sheen.
On Walmart Pen + Gear copy paper there was quite a bit of feathering but no bleeding.
Comparison Swabs:
16 Oranje Boven is closest to Sailor Kin-mokusei.
17 Staten-Generaal Rood is similar to Diamine Amaranth.
18 Garuda Rood is close to PenBBS 381 Frosted Leaf in Autumn.
19 Rood Haags Pluche is close to Private Reserve Infinity Red.
20 Pulchri Pink is a little warmer toned than Montblanc Pink.
I used a Taroko Enigma notebook. All five inks had average flows.
Overall, 16 Oranje Boven is my favorite out of the five, but you can’t go wrong with any of them. I like that 16 has some shading and sheen, and is well behaved.
Disclaimer: All photos and opinions are my own. This page does not contain affiliate links, and is not sponsored in any way.
If I should die, think only this of me: / That there’s some corner of a foreign field / That is for ever England.
Did those famous opening lines of “The Soldier”, a sonnet by World War I poet Rupert Brooke, inspire Queen Elizabeth II to do the opposite — gift a piece of England to a foreign country? On May 14, 1965, she did just that. Dedicating a memorial to John F. Kennedy, the Queen formally presented the acre on which it stood to the U.S. — the first and only time a British monarch has ever given a part of the homeland to another nation.
The Queen (left) welcoming the Kennedys to Runnymede: Jackie (in white) flanked by her children John Jr (shaking the Queen’s hand) and Caroline, and next to them JFK’s two surviving brothers, Robert and Edward. (Credit: Freddie Reed/Mirrorpix via Getty Images)
The assassination of U.S. President Kennedy, just 18 months prior, had shocked the world, but perhaps the UK more than most other countries. The president’s father had been U.S. ambassador to Britain from 1938 to 1940, and a young JFK had spent time in the country during that period.
The choice of the memorial’s location — at Runnymede, west of London and close to Windsor — symbolized an even deeper bond between Britain and America. This meadow on the banks of the Thames is where, in 1215, King John sealed the Magna Carta, a document that curbed royal power by the rule of law, laying the groundwork for constitutional democracy. The charter’s effects can be traced all the way to the U.S. Constitution, many centuries later.
That’s why the American Bar Association had already erected a Magna Carta Memorial in 1957. The Kennedy Memorial, unveiled almost 750 years to the day after the signing of Magna Carta, reinforces that transatlantic link.
This acre inside England is the property of the U.S. government. But that doesn’t make it “American soil”. (Credit: @realityexplained1514/YouTube)
Inspired by Pilgrim’s Progress, landscape architect Sir Geoffrey Jellicoe designed the Memorial to feel like a “meaningful ascent.” Visitors scale 50 irregular granite steps, one for each U.S. state, and arrive at a seven-ton block of Portland stone.
Chiseled in the rock is the deed of the land: “This acre of English ground was given to the United States of America by the people of Britain in memory of John F. Kennedy.” The text ends with a quote from JFK’s inaugural address: “Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, or oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and success of liberty.”
Behind the slab stands an American scarlet oak, which turns red in November, the month of Kennedy’s assassination. A path leads to two stone seats — one for the president, the other for his consort — providing a view of the Thames.
All very poignant and symbolic. But is this acre of England truly “forever America”?
JFK’s granddaughter Tatiana Schlossberg lays a wreath at the Memorial in Runnymede during a service on 22 November 2013, marking the 50th anniversary of the president’s assassination. Etched in stone: the gift of this acre of English ground to the U.S.A. Symbolically, the Kennedy Memorial may be American soil, but technically, it remains British territory. (Credit: Ben Stansall/AFP via Getty Images)
The deed is not just etched in stone: Ownership of the land was effectively transferred to the U.S. federal government, and its management is maintained by the Kennedy Memorial trust, which also funds scholarships for UK students to go study in the U.S.
In that practical sense, Kennedy’s acre at Runnymede is American. But only in that sense. The UK retains full sovereignty over the area. The U.S. does not have any extraterritorial privileges regarding the memorial.
Queen Elizabeth’s gift was symbolic, not a legal cession of territory. But as symbols go, it’s a strong one. The dedication was attended not just by JFK’s widow Jackie, their children Caroline and John Jr., and John Sr.’s brothers Robert and Ted, but also by British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan and U.S. Secretary of State Dean Rusk, who accepted the (symbolic) deed on behalf of Lyndon B. Johnson, JFK’s successor as president. The gift thus underscored the vaunted “special relationship” between the U.S. and Britain.
But there are no U.S. Marines guarding the perimeter, you don’t need a visa to enter, and anyone born inside the acre does not automatically become an American citizen. As questionable as it is, the Memorial’s status as “American soil” in the middle of England does provide the site dedicated to JFK’s enduring legacy with an added layer of romance. So if you want to think that you can visit the U.S. deep inside Surrey, that most English of counties, who are we to disabuse you of that notion?
King John reluctantly sealing the Magna Carta at Runnymede on 15 June 1215. The charter reined in his arbitrary abuse of feudal rights and laid the foundation for a Rrules-based system of government. (Credit: Ann Ronan Pictures/Print Collector/Getty Images).
The thing I want to talk about here is not the song or its lyrics, both of which I like (and boy, who among us has not that had that same feeling at one point or another), but the final few seconds of the video, in which Beihold, at lunch with the girls, including the one who is the focus of her envy (and not coincidentally, all the attention). After watching everyone else lavish their attention on this woman, Beihold, or more accurately the character she’s playing in the video, finally gets up, goes to the woman (played by Katya Abayss), whispers to her about her envy, and leaves. And during these couple of seconds and directly afterward, we get to see the play of emotions across the enviable woman’s face.
And what are the emotions? As I see it: First, distracted as her friend comes over to say something private, pulling her away from her conversation already in progress, then confusion at the message, and then, right at the end, being upset and sad. Because the woman knows that, in this moment, she’s just lost a friend. She has no idea how, even if the now-immediately-former friend has given her the reason why. The reasons are all internal to Beihold’s character and how she feels about the other woman’s successes, personally and (apparently) professionally. This other woman is the cause of Beihold’s envy, but it’s possible and even likely that the woman had no idea that Beihold had all that going on in her head. Envy is often quiet, until it’s not.
(The other thing about envy (in the real world, at least) is that it’s often predicated on a fantasy version of someone else’s life, the part with where the fruits of their talent and/or money are evident but not the part where the human in the life still has to be a human and still has human concerns. In a world where some of the richest people in the world are very clearly desperately unhappy because (among other things) they simply don’t know how to people — and that’s in public! Imagine what it’s like in private! — there is indeed the constant reminder that money/fame/talent may solve some problems, but not all of them, and opens up a whole new set of problems that one has to deal with. High class problems! Which maybe other people think they would rather have than their own! But still problems.)
In the song and in the video, which she co-directed, Beihold the actual creative person does a fun and lively job of getting into the head of someone who has let envy finally get the best of them and stops seeing a friend as a friend and now sees them simply as a (possibly unworthy) possessor of a life they covet. But I think it’s important — and smart! — that after watching an entire video of humorous scenarios of the envying smoldering unhappiness at the envied, there are those few seconds at the end where we get to see that envy isn’t actually funny, and that it actually can hurt, not just the subject of the envy, but the object of it. Two people lose a friend in the video. Only one of them saw it coming.
After we purchased the Methodist Church building here in town, one of the things we said that we wanted was to keep it part of the community, and not just our own office building. One way we were thinking of doing that was to occasionally have events there that would be open to the folks here in town. Last night, we started doing that: Our good friend and almost incomprehensibly talented musician Jim Boggia came the Old Church (as we are calling the building now) to give a concert, and we gave an open invite to Bradford to come out and see him. The event — like all the events we’d be planning — was free to attend, sponsored by the Scalzi Family Foundation. Because, honestly, what’s the even the point of having a foundation if you can’t occasionally give a concert for your fellow townsfolk?
And how was the concert? Honestly, terrific. Jim is an immensely engaging performer and played a mix of his own (really great) tunes and rock standards from the 70s, which was perfectly in tune with this audience, who gave Jim a standing ovation at the end of his set. An excellent time was had by all, and for us — for whom this first event was a test case to see if there was local interest in such events and what we need to do to make them viable — it was proof that this sort of thing was something that would be enjoyed and appreciated in our home town. We’ll be doing more of this. Hopefully soon!
And, well, yes! It is! The full review (here, warning, mild spoilers) also says that it is “tightly plotted” and otherwise praises the writing for catching up reader on the events of the series while still keeping things moving in the book’s here and now. And, again: Yes! I will take all that. Also, and I say this with just about every novel, it’s nice when the first trade review is a positive one. It means I can relax a little.
More news on The Shattering Peace soon. We are two months out from the release! Things are beginning to pick up momentum.
Human characters have never been essential to tell a good story. Author Caspar Geon breaks the mold of featuring boring ol’ humans in his newest novel The Immeasurable Heaven. Come along as he takes you through worlds, nay, universes, of his imagination.
CASPAR GEON:
I’ve read that if you go outside and cover a portion of the sky with your outstretched thumb, you’ll be obscuring approximately fifteen million galaxies. There was a clear sky the other night so I went out and did just that, and it’s mind-boggling. That’s fifteen million distant islands, each home to hundreds of billions of stars. And all of that just a drop in a colossal ocean.
This was the starting point for The Immeasurable Heaven: the conviction that there’s so much going on out there independent of everything we know or understand, so much that we’ll never have a hope of glimpsing, and my preoccupation with leaving all earthly issues behind to experience a tiny portion of it in some way. Pure escapism. Escapism with a capital, er, E. Fairly standard behaviour for someone who was put back a year in Primary school for ignoring his work and staring out of the window all the time.
When I finished the final book in my space opera trilogy the Amaranthine Spectrum in 2018 (which had neither earned out, nor, as far as I can tell, earned much at all) the onus was on writing something less ambitious and more commercial. Simple, right? In the Amaranthine books I’d already compiled three biggish novels about the far future of humanity and the strange plethora of mammalian forms that it would eventually become; now I had to get serious.
Elderly relatives who’d made the mistake of trying my books would counsel me earnestly to write something with more human characters and relatable storylines, and I would nod my head, go home and do precisely the opposite, feeling that wicked thrill as I struck out on an adventure with zero human characters at all, set three billion years ago in a distant ring of connected galaxies. I was still writing it five years later.
I wanted to find out what a settled galaxy would look and feel like after hundreds of millions of years of unbroken civilisation, what its inhabitants would have become, and how they would lead their lives. In that process I came up with the Throlken, omniscient machine intelligences that have set up home in the hearts of every star and ruled for a third of an aeon, forbidding violence of any kind. I met Whirazomar, a linguist forced to journey in the cramped, filthy confines of a sentient passenger spore with a hundred rowdy passengers, and Draebol, a hapless explorer of the lower dimensions. And I found the voice at the centre of it all, a prisoner sent far away for a very long time, its mind now utterly rotten.
What I’d somehow assumed would be an equivalent amount of worldbuilding to the last three novels had ballooned into a stack of notebooks heavy enough to knock me unconscious if they toppled over. Spending time in the galaxy of Yokkun’s Depth and its seven linked neighbours had become an obsession as I wrote about reality-hopping sorcerers, walking parasite cities, coral and pollen spaceships, interdimensional multiplayer games and ice moon ocean battles. The book also delved deeper into the concept of mortality than anything I’d ever written, since death is presumably a constant that most sentient beings will at some point in their existence have to contemplate, and to this eternal question there might – somewhere – lie answers.
This went hand in hand with the nature of reality itself, which, when experienced elsewhen and elsewhere, is at its core a malleable notion quantified in countless different ways, especially once you throw a variety of sensory organs and methods of perception into the mix. Who can say which is the correct reality, the one true way of seeing? And what then is death, if reality itself cannot be firmly defined? ‘The Immeasurable Heaven’ (actually the English translation of the lovely Hawaiian name for our own galaxy cluster, Laniakea) was a title I couldn’t resist.
Anyway, despite the constant risk of disappearing into my own belly button and popping out of existence entirely, my number one priority was to have as much fun as I could writing, especially since it seemed to me that this wasn’t going to be a book any traditional publisher would want to take a risk on. The fact that one eventually did still surprises me, even a week from publication.
And so, to reference the book’s afterword, I hope you’ll join me on my leisurely trip across this immeasurable heaven, for there are many more tales to tell.
In 1922, the Colorado River Compact was established to share the river among seven states and Mexico. Available water was based on the first two decades of the 20th century: 16.5 million acre-feet per year. One acre-foot would cover a football field to a depth of about one foot and serve the needs of 2-4 homes. But there has become an annual deficit on the order of 2–4 million acre-feet. Due to climate change, even that may be optimistic. The Colorado River is simply overallocated.
The U.S. federal government has set a deadline for a new agreement by the end of 2026. At present, the lower basin states (California, Arizona, and Nevada) have jointly proposed a conservation plan. But the Upper Basin states (Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, and Wyoming) have not. Based on the complexity of the “Law of the River,” both sides have valid, but conflicting, legal arguments.
It will be settled, because it must. Conservation and economic changes can fill that deficit, but it'll be a bumpy ride to reach an agreement and avoid decades of litigation, such as Arizona vs California, 1952-1983.
The top photo here shows the low water levels in Lake Powell behind the Glen Canyon Dam. The bottom photo shows the Lake Powell ferry ramp at Bullfrog, Arizona, that was closed for three years. The blue sign in the foreground shows the shoreline level at full capacity.
The comic book company IDW, in conjunction with Paramount, which owns Star Trek, has come out with a limited edition comic book series called Red Shirts, which is about the security teams in the United Federation of Planets, the first issue of which came out yesterday. Clearly from the cover and the panels you can see here, the comic series will not be shying away from the essential nature of the red shirt in the Star Trek universe, which is, to die for dramatic story purposes.
As most of you know, I wrote a book 13 years ago called Redshirts, which essayed this same concept, albeit not in the Star Trek universe specifically, and it did pretty well, becoming a New York Times best seller and winning the Hugo Award for Best Novel, among others. So how do I feel about IDW/Paramount now coming in and releasing some comic books with almost exactly the same name?
I feel fine about it. One, I don’t own the trademark on “red shirt” or any variation thereof (nor did Paramount when I wrote my novel, I checked), and I wrote a novel, not a comic book series, and anyway I borrowed the concept from Star Trek’s fandom, from whence the phrase came. I can’t exactly get worked up if Paramount and IDW reappropriate a concept I appropriated in the first place. Second, the phrase and concept have been used by others in other media before – there was a card game with just about the same title a while back, as just one example. We’re all working in a same pool. Overlaps will happen.
The only real issue — one I’ve already seen online — is that some folks appear to think I have some participation in this IDW limited series. I don’t. I’m not the writer (a fellow named Christopher Cantwell is), nor did anyone involved in this comic get in touch with me. Not that they should have; from what I can tell about the story it has only the vaguest common elements with my own novel. It’s its own thing, and should be appreciated as such. I mean, I hope it’s good. I wouldn’t want something even mildly adjacent to my own work to be junk. The early reviews I’ve seen of the first installment seem to be pretty positive. So there’s that.
Anyway: Nope, not based on my thing, nope, they didn’t check in with me, nope, I’m not upset at that, and nope, I shouldn’t be upset even if I were. Give it a shot and see if you like it.
Sometimes, we all need a friend. And sometimes, that friend is a robot that accompanies you to social events so you don’t have to go alone. Follow along in author Allee Mead’s Big Idea as they tell you about how real life feelings of disconnection led to their newest novella, Isaac.
ALLEE MEAD:
I began writing Isaac at a time in my life when I felt disconnected. I had friends at work but didn’t see them much outside of it. I didn’t chat with my grad school classmates. My most cherished loved ones lived a 5-hour drive away. One day, my town was putting on a free concert of a 90s band whose music I enjoyed. I texted only one person to see if she wanted to go, but she didn’t see the message until the next day.
I began imagining a woman who owned a humanoid robot (“android” is the correct term, but “robot” was the word bouncing around my head) purely for social events. She kept him in the closet and only powered him on when she wanted to go to a movie or restaurant. In this vision, the robot finally gained enough sentience to ask if she’d leave him on for the night; eventually he left the house to see the world.
I wondered what kind of character this nameless woman was: where she’d gotten the robot, whether she had enough initiative to purchase him or if she somehow stumbled upon him. The story snowballed until the woman had a name and an estranged family and the robot had a clearer purpose.
Now, despite writing a futuristic story about androids, I’m not a fan of new technologies. I got my first smartphone in 2015 at the age of 24, but I still power on my laptop anytime I want to make an online purchase. I don’t have social media and I once asked a friend if I could drive to her house and drop off cash instead of setting up Venmo. I’m at best ambivalent about technology’s ability to help people connect. I’m also someone who tends to sit on the fence instead of developing a clear opinion about something.
So as I wrote Isaac, I asked myself, “What ways will Isaac help Eleanor reconnect with the world, and what ways will he limit her?” I wrote scenes where Isaac’s presence encouraged Eleanor to go out more than she normally would: to see movies, plays, and concerts; to try new restaurants; and even to go to a bar on a crowded weekend night. I also wrote a scene in which Eleanor is all dressed up and ready to go out, only to find Isaac in the middle of a software update. She misses the play she wanted to attend, stewing in anger until Isaac enters the room. In another scene, her workplace is planning its annual picnic; Eleanor’s excited to go until she can’t think of a story to tell her coworkers about why Isaac isn’t eating.
Ultimately, I cut these last two scenes. What I potentially lost in deleting these scenes of technological limitations I gained in the juxtaposing moments of Eleanor’s fathers John and Javi. While we don’t see John wrestling with new technology, we watch him connect with Javi. Javi, who easily makes friends wherever he goes, encourages John to reach out to his therapist and join a parent support group. John learns that he doesn’t have to do everything on his own, and Javi learns to put down roots. In these moments, it’s less about the limits of technology and more about the benefits of genuine human connection in its many forms: platonic, romantic, and community.
As always, I’m taking time off during the summer. This year, though, we’re trying something new! We’re sharing the audio of previous live Q&As that I did on YouTube. If you only listen to the podcast, this will be all new to you! We’ll be back with our regular format mid-August. This episode includes my […]
I was fortunate enough to observe this complete double rainbow over Leiria, Portugal, one day this past spring. Because I had a sense it was going to happen by looking at the position of the rain showers in the eastern sky and knowing that once the clouds departed, the Sun would be low in the west, I rushed to the highest, clearest, nearby vantage point. When I got there, everything came together.
Double rainbows result when sunlight is twice reflected and refracted inside raindrops, creating two concentric arcs of color across the lower sky, opposite the Sun. For the primary rainbow, sunlight enters the raindrop, reflects once inside, and exits. But for a secondary rainbow to form, light reflects twice inside the raindrop before exiting. Because of this second reflection, the colors are much dimmer and also reversed in the secondary bow. Photo taken on April 2, 2025, at 6:12 p.m. local time.
Photo Details: Panorama - 2 rows x 3; Redminote Pro 13 Plus 5G camera; processing in Lightroom, Photoshop, and Luminar.
I’m a bit late with this because everything has been a bit upside down, but things are finally starting to feel a little bit better and so I am back to tell you about my favorite new July books! For the Fantastic Strangelings Book Club we’re sending you American Mythology by Giano Cromley, a quirky,Continue reading "Utterly bewitched by books"
Both Athena and I went to go see the new Superman film, and we both came away with differing opinions on it. We thought it would be fun for each of us to put our reviews of the film in the same post so you can see how we got to where we are on this take on the character and the story. Warning: Spoilers are ahead.
If you like this “Two Takes” concept, let us know. We might do more. — JS
ATHENA SCALZI:
I love Superman. He is my favorite superhero, and I am always defending him against those who claim he is “boring.” Needless to say, I was extremely excited for Superman (2025), and had to go and see it on the big screen. I’m sad to report I didn’t really like it all that much. Though I’ve been seeing tons of high praise across the Internet, it was pretty mid in my book, so let’s talk about it. And, of course, here is your spoiler warning.
The first thing of note that this Superman movie does differently than most is that it begins at a time that Superman is already an established hero. This is not an origin story, this is a story in a world that already knows Superman and that he has been active in as a hero for years. While most people find this to be a refreshing take, and that they don’t need to see his origin story for the hundredth time, I can’t say I like the decision. I don’t hate it, but I really love origin stories. I like seeing Superman discover his powers, or having to learn to control them, or save people in his youth and having to keep it a secret. It’s a personal thing more than anything.
Right off the bat, I absolutely hate Lex Luthor’s ensemble of evil employees that are like, video-game-playing-“Gen-Z”-written-by-Gen-X-lackeys that are all like “yes!” and fist pump the air when they land a punch on Superman using their weird consoles. It’s cringe. They’re all cringe. Lex Luthor shouting out letters and numbers is cringe. Especially the line delivery for the exposition of “wow you really seem to know what Superman is going to do next,” and “Lex Luthor has spent the past three years studying all his fights and learning his moves so now he can predict what he will do next.” Great, thanks for that explanation, guys.
So, Clark goes to work at the Daily Planet, and this movie decides to include not only Jimmy Olsen, but Cat Grant, Steve Lombard, and Ron Troupe, as well. This feels like entirely too many players on the board for the reporter gang, as Cat, Steve, and Ron, get absolutely no meaningful screentime or characterization, and the only way you’d even really know who they are is if you’ve seen other Superman media such as My Adventures With Superman, where they are actual characters and serve a purpose. They felt so thrown in at the last minute and like an afterthought in this.
Of course, the real main reporter here is Lois Lane. Now here’s something that I like about the movie. I really love how Superman handled Lois and Clark’s relationship, especially the scene where she interviews him, and it starts out as sort of fun and playful, but quickly turns into a real and meaningful conflict that has a lasting impact on both of them and their relationship. The most important thing about this scene, though, is our insight into Superman’s morals and beliefs.
While Lois grills him about breaking laws, committing potentially devastating acts against a US allied nation, and threatening to cause someone bodily harm or worse, he can’t stop retorting with “people were going to die.” More and more passionately. People were going to die, and he had to stop it. No matter the laws, no matter how the US or the media would see it, he knew he had to stop this loss of life. He knew what was about to happen was wrong, and that was enough for him to act, whether or not it was legally correct.
Lois says the world is viewing him as a representative for the United States in this situation, and he claims he’s not representing anyone but himself, and doing good. Exactly. Because that’s what Superman does. He represents good, he does good. How he goes about doing it is largely questioned by the public, the government, even his girlfriend, but he knows in his heart he is doing good, and that’s what is most important to him. Above everything else, above even the law, he will do good.
I love that this interview scene caused a real fight between Lois and Clark. He doesn’t understand why she’s “being like this.” Why is she acting so against him when he saved people? How could what he did ever be construed as a bad thing? How could people possibly be mad at him for stopping a war? A country was about to be invaded, and he told the tanks to turn around. In what universe is he not a hero here? And how could anyone, especially this person he cares about so much and is supposed to like him, too, question him about his intentions, when his sole intention is to be good and help people. It’s truly a hard watch.
I really hate in Superman media when Superman is wanted by the law, turns himself in, and immediately gets handed over to the bad guys and gets locked up and tortured. It’s so predictable and so unfortunate. I truly didn’t understand how Luthor was even keeping Metamorpho under his control. Yes, Luthor had his son held hostage, but as we later see, when Superman breaks the glass and flies over to rescue his son, Metamorpho flies over right after he does using like a jet propulsion out of his lower body. Okay, so maybe he just wasn’t strong enough to break the glass himself? But later in the movie didn’t he form a giant hammer and smash some tanks? Kind of sounds like he could’ve smashed the glass and flown over to his kid and saved him at like, any point. I guess the only explanation is when he says he can’t hold his son while he changes forms, so I guess that’s the sole reason he needed Superman’s help in rescuing his son. Pretty weak sauce, though.
Anyways, Metamorpho and his son aren’t really the part I want to talk about in the pocket universe. The part I really want to look at is the death of Malik. Malik was a normal person who liked Superman, who even helped Superman one time. And Luthor made sure he paid the price. This scene is so incredibly tragic, and so good. Superman saves people, not gets them killed. And he certainly doesn’t just watch as they get killed. Except in this case, he has to. And it hurts him, deeply. David Corenswet portrayed Superman’s agony and pain perfectly in that scene. You just know he wishes it had been him instead.
Does anyone else just really dislike the Justice Gang? What a bunch of a-holes. I hate this Green Lantern, I hate how they portrayed Hawkgirl, and Mr. Terrific is fine. Again this is another example of too many characters on the board with not enough time to devote to getting to know them or really care about them. Plus, as is shown by Superman’s numerous attempts to mitigate damage, both to civilians, property, and the Kaiju itself, these jerks don’t give a hoot or a holler about collateral damage. Yes, collateral damage happens, but the Justice Gang is so reckless and headstrong that they just shoot first, worry about bodily harm to civilians later. I don’t find them funny, I just think they’re jerks.
And yes, they do “save the day” in the end, but I give them no praise for deciding to actually go be heroes when they were already proclaiming themselves as heroes. Wow, they saved people! Umm, yeah, that’s what they should have been doing anyways? Without needing Superman to convince them to go fight the good fight? Especially Green Lantern saying he only cares about protecting Earth from alien threats. My guy, why even bother protecting a planet from aliens if it’s going to be war-torn, unjust, and cruel? How ’bout you focus on Earth first and then fight the alien threats when they show up later to your awesome, peaceful, not terrible planet.
I also dislike the weird relationship between Jimmy Olsen and Luthor’s current companion, Eve. Eve is obsessed with Jimmy, and offers him information on Luthor and Superman if he agrees to go out with her. This whole relationship is played for laughs, but I find it very uncomfortable and unfortunate for Jimmy. He doesn’t like this girl, but makes her promises in order for her to help them. It doesn’t feel funny, it just feels wrong. Especially because he wants her information, but regards her as stupid and incompetent, and makes fun of her physical appearance. It just feels gross both directions.
Moving on, I also am not a fan of the rift that tears Metropolis in two. I think the rift is like, too much conflict. We have Luthor, Ultraman, the Engineer, the Raptors, and we have the war across the world, do we really need a rift tearing through the planet? It just feels like a bit much, and very silly that the way to fix it is to “hack the system and put in a code.” It feels half-baked.
In that same vein, I don’t think Superman should’ve been stuck in Metropolis fighting his clone, I think Superman should have actually been the hero to save Jarhanpur. Those kids were holding up the Superman flag as the Boravian army invaded, and they stood against the invaders shouting Superman! And who comes to save them? GREEN FUCKING LANTERN. This felt so unsatisfactory and like total BS. Yes, Superman is the one that “called them in” but come on! I don’t want to see Green Lantern flip off tanks, I want to see Superman shield children from bullets, his red cape flowing in the wind. This isn’t a Justice Gang movie! You’re telling me Big Blue is back home throwing his clone into a black hole? Talk about boring. I want to see him SAVE PEOPLE THAT BELIVE IN HIM!
Now, one thing I think this movie gets right is Luthor’s sick obsession with Superman. He is clearly un-fucking-well, and I think this movie and Nicholas Hoult’s portrayal of Luthor really nails that characterization aspect. Hoult’s ability to switch between a cool and collected demeanor, to an absolute madman spitting venom in every hate-filled word towards Superman is wildly impressive. He thinks he is a mastermind genius but really he’s just a crazed, sick individual. And he’s not really all that smart, just a rich, power-hungry, jealous man. Hits close to home, doesn’t it?
So, yeah. I didn’t really like this movie. Which is a shame because I think they nailed Superman’s morals, beliefs, his personality, the way he would interact with the world and with people. They absolutely killed it with Superman’s character. But that’s about it. A good Superman does not a good Superman movie make.
Overall, this movie was like a 5/10, very middling. I didn’t hate it but I don’t like it much, either. To be honest, I prefer Man of Steel. That’s right, I said it. I miss Henry Cavill, what can I say?
What did you think of Superman? What is your favorite Superman movie/media? Let me know in the comments, and have a great day!
-AMS
JOHN SCALZI:
There have been several live action Superman movies, going back to Christopher Reeve’s iconic portrayal in the 1978 film (and actually before then, as there was a 1948 serial starring Kirk Alyn, but I’m doing a Jedi hand wave on that for this conversation). Across these many films and actors who have essayed the character, it’s generally agreed upon that the ’78 film, and Reeve’s turn in the blue suit, are the best of the bunch. After watching the 2025 Superman, with David Corenswet as the lead character, Reeve and the ’78 film still remain on top. But! Now there’s a new film, and new actor, in second place.
The reason for this comes down to tone. Superman is fundamentally an optimistic character; he’s decent and kind and humble (as much as a ridiculously overpowered character can be), he puts others before himself, and he fights for truth, justice and the American Way — which is understood to be a positive thing in the Superman mythos, even if in the real world the American Way is often not in a great state. In D&D parlance, he’s true Lawful Good, in a world that keeps wanting to tip over into chaos, or alternately is pushed there via Lex Luthor or other bad actors.
The problem is that lawful good is — sorry — kind of inherently boring. “Fundamentally decent” characters have a high incidence of being a snooze. You have to support them with interesting side characters, interesting situations and, particularly, an interesting antagonist. If you can give your main character an actual personality, that’s a plus too, but you can get away with not doing that if everything else falls in line.
The ’78 Superman (directed by Richard Donner and with a murderer’s row of screenwriters including Oscar winners Mario Puzo and Robert Benton) nailed all of this. The script was light, humorous a lot of the time, but serious when it needed to be. The newsroom of the Daily Planet had a terrific Lois Lane (Margot Kidder) and Perry White (Jackie Cooper). The film’s Metropolis was lived in and alive. And, of course, Gene Hackman’s Lex Luthor is still the best superhero villain (with his own terrific supporting cast in Ned Beatty and Valerie Perrine), full of genial evil.
In the middle of all that worldbuilding and character work, all Christopher Reeve and his Superman had to do was be decent and kind, offer an occasional corny quip (“bad vibrations?”) and save the day. This is not to say Reeve didn’t have to act — you try selling decent and kind while everyone is chewing scenery around you. See how you do. It did mean the filmmakers gave Reeve the space and support to make his turn in the role iconic.
Contrast this with Bryan Singer’s rather ill-fated Superman Returns (2006). Brandon Routh had the look and the decency, but he didn’t have the support. Bryan Singer intentionally tried to ape Richard Donner’s vibe, but as a director he doesn’t have Donner’s lightness of touch, antic where Donner was comedic, and the script was underwhelming. Kate Bosworth’s Lois Lane wasn’t up to the task of being a foil, and Kevin Spacey’s Lex Luthor, smarmy though he was, didn’t gel. The whole affair was off, and everyone felt it.
I actually liked Zach Snyder’s darker and grittier take on the Superman mythos in Man of Steel (2013), because Snyder (and screenwriters David S. Goyer and Christopher Nolan) committed to the bit; Henry Cavill’s Superman was still decent, but the world around him was more dour and Superman darkened to match. Snyder’s problem would be that the only direction you can go from “dark and gritty” is “darker and gritter.” That’s fine for Batman, less so for Superman. Batman vs. Superman was a bummer when it came to Superman; Justice League was a slog.
For the 2025 Superman, James Gunn (who wrote as well as directed) hearkened back to the ’78 Superman vibe and plan, but unlike Bryan Singer, isn’t trying for a slavish continuation. Also unlike Singer, Gunn has an actual sense of humor. That sense of humor is not the same as the one you’ll find in the ’78 Superman — Gunn’s sense of humor is a lot more overt and rather more juvenile. Of all the things that you would call his vision of Superman, “sophisticated” isn’t one of them. But it does keep things light and moving quickly.
Gunn’s Superman, in the form of David Corenswet, matches his sensibility. Reeve’s Superman had a delivery that was dry, even if it could be corny; Corenswet’s Superman, on the other hand, is basically an adorable lunk who means well. He’s not stupid! But he might not think enough steps ahead, and he might be in over his head. He’s the strongest person on the planet but can still get flustered by a very smart, very pretty woman (that would be Lois Lane, in the form of Rachel Brosnahan, who is terrific) who isn’t taking any crap from him. Superman is famously called a “boy scout” but this is the first Superman you could actually see being a Boy Scout, really proud of his all his badges and the fact that he made Eagle Scout without once having to resort to using his superpowers to do it.
(Over on Bluesky I noted that as an actor Corenswet reminded me less of any previous Superman actor and more of Brendan Fraser circa The Mummy and Blast From the Past; this was met by several “OH MY GOD YES”‘s, so I think I’m on to something here)
I like the Gunn/Corenswet version of Superman. I like that he’s decent and kind but still feeling his way in the world, and can be outmaneuvered because of that — and indeed that’s exactly what this iteration of Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult) is doing. This edition of Lex is a vainglorious billionaire who hates not being the alpha dude for the whole planet, and boy, doesn’t the idea of a billionaire weaponizing his insecurities feel a little too close to home at moment. Once again, this film has the second-best live action version of a character; Hoult isn’t going to beat Hackman as the definitive Lex Luthor — who could? — but his take is right for this particular world.
This particular world also has sunlight and color in it, which I really like, as well as probably more back story than any one single movie needs, which I am less enthused about. This is because Gunn is obliged to set up a whole new DC Cinematic Universe, this one subtitled “Gods and Monsters.” There’s criticism that this Superman is overstuffed, and the criticism is on point. I don’t know that it serves this film’s own story to jam in the “Justice Gang,” regardless of how much fun it is to point and laugh at Green Lantern Guy Gardner’s haircut (actor Nathan Fillion apparently insisted on it as it is canonical), or how much of a delightful surprise Edi Gathegi’s Mr. Terrific turns out to be (Isabela Merced’s Hawkgirl is given relatively little to do). And then there’s Krypto the dog, who is there as much for merchandising as plot. I get why Gunn did it, and, fine. It wouldn’t have hurt the film, as a film, to have focused more on Superman and his own supporting team.
With that said, this is the second-best Superman film for a reason. Overstuffed though it might be, it also hits the marks of making a good film with a fundamentally decent main character. The supporting cast ably supports. The antagonist viciously antagonizes. The worldbuilding is solid and mostly smart. The lightness and sense of humor pull us through. Is it a great film? No. But if simply being good is good enough for the character of Superman, it’s good enough for this story about him. James Gunn has put his stamp on the character and the universe, and I’m looking forward to seeing where both of them go from here.
Writers are in conversation with other writers, both the ones who are contemporary to them, and the ones who came before. In this Big Idea for The Dreaming of Man, author Nikoline Kaiser talks about what the takeaway is from these discussions, for this book as well as other things.
NIKOLINE KAISER:
I might be a writer, but I’d never claim to be a master of words. And while I feel I do have some sort of unique voice, made up of my experiences and values, there is no secret to the fact that I stand on the shoulders of giants. By this I mean that I borrow relentlessly from my favorite authors; as many a writer will tell you, reading is often the biggest source of inspiration you can find. And especially nowadays, with the near-oversaturation of tales available to us, giving a new spin to an old idea becomes a necessary go-to.
Here’s the thing though: writers have always been borrowing. Many fans of Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings have heard the story of how J.R.R. himself read the Shakespeare play Macbeth, and was very unsatisfied with how the “no man of woman born” line referred to a man who came into the world via caesarean section and not, you know, a woman. Here (or so the story goes) was born his idea for Eowyn, the warrior maid who disguises herself as a man to fight, fulfilling a similar prophecy from the trilogy. (Incidentally, his ire over the walking forest in Macbeth being soldiers disguising themselves with branches, and not an actual, moving forest, is what gave birth to his idea for the Ents. Tolkien apparently had a lot of beef with Shakespeare).
Growing up, Eowyn was one of my favorite characters. There is something very affirming about seeing a female character in the kind of role she has, especially for the time the novels were written in. Plenty has been written about the cross-dressing aspect of Eowyn and other characters like her. Playing with gender roles takes on a new meaning (or maybe at times an even older one) when reading with a modern lens, and when I started my own venture into writing, I quickly found that this was a source of constant ideas. Who are we when we crawl over the walls erected around us at birth and decide to do things not because of but despite or even without thought to, our gender?
Here’s another aspect of the type of fantasy Tolkien wrote (and the type he decidedly didn’t write) and the precursors Shakespeare and his contemporaries played with in, for example, Macbeth: prophecies. In modern times, a lot of derision has been levelled against the Chosen One archetype; the one hero (usually male, usually white) who is destined to defeat the evil of the land. Of course, he succeeds despite all odds. But those aren’t really the fun prophecies, are they? They aren’t much like the prophecies we know from older times, when the Sphinx warns that Oedipus will kill his father and marry his mother and then, by the very act of trying to avoid this, it ends up happening. It’s certainly not Macbeth in the eponymous play being told that “no man of woman born” can kill him and his end will only come when a whole forest grows legs and starts walking, only for a C-section baby grown into a vengeful man and an army with foliage on their heads to arrive and end his reign.
Those are the clever prophecies, the word-twisters, the djinni-in-a-bottle giving you everything you wished for, except you really, really shouldn’t have been wishing in the first place. They’re often self-fulfilling, because if the protagonist hadn’t reacted to the prophecy, they might never have created the circumstances to make it come true in the first place. It’s here that the “master of words” thing comes back, because if you say something in the right way, any sentence can hold both the venom and the antidote. Shakespeare (who was also heavily inspired by the stories of his lifetime – Macbeth was a real person, though the historical figure seems to have been a lot nicer than his literary counterpart) took the prophecy with a specific focus: “no man of woman born.” Tolkien took his focus elsewhere: “no man of woman born.” And in the gender euphoria of Eowyn, of growing older, of learning things about myself and the world, the words changed in my head too: “no man of woman born.”
There’s no mastery of words necessary for this idea to spring forth, and thank some kind of god for that, because I might have never written my story if there were. But if the giants before me swam in the ocean, I’m in the shallows on shore, the water pooling behind from the waves they created. Plucking out the words and emphasis that suits the ideas in my head – if I could tell people only one thing about writing, I’d say to dive into the waters of those that came before and see what wonders – or horrors – lie beyond the deep.
Early last month I went on a 4-week trip to the US visiting NYC, San Diego, and Boston. Unlike my usual month-long trips back home where I can leave my pens and inks in one place throughout my stay, it was a bit of a hassle maintaining my daily writing routine and weekly ink swaps… Continue reading
One evening this past spring, I had plans to photograph the crescent Moon and the Pleiades above the famous church ruins (Premontre monastery) in Zsámbék, Hungary, where I live. The stage was set. I was waiting approximately an hour, and then the Moon and the Seven Sisters crept out from behind a cloud deck. Turns out that the clouds acted to nicely offset this celestial duo. The Moon was only 16 percent illuminated at the time, though the long exposure I used makes it look fuller. Note the faint lunar corona. Photo taken on April 1, 2025, a few hours before the Moon occulted the stars of Pleiades.
Photo Details: Canon EOS 400D camera; Canon EF 1 8/50 lens; ISO 800; F/4.5; 5 seconds exposure.
Let’s take a look at five Akkerman standard inks: 11 Treves Turquois, 12 Mauritshuis Magenta, 13 Simplisties Violet, 14 Parkpop Purpur and 15 Voorhout Violet. You can purchase these inks at a few retailers including Vanness Pens.
Swabs:
Left to right:11 Treves Turquois, 12 Mauritshuis Magenta, 13 Simplisties Violet, 14 Parkpop Purpur and 15 Voorhout Violet
Writing samples:
Let's take a look at how the ink behaves on fountain pen friendly papers: Rhodia, Tomoe River, and Leuchtturm.
Dry Time: 40-70 seconds
Water Resistance: Low-Medium
Feathering: None
Show through: Medium
Bleeding: None
Other properties: All five had low shading. Violet had medium gold sheen and the last two had low gold sheen.
On Walmart Pen + Gear copy paper there was quite a bit of feathering and bleeding in all nib sizes.
Comparison Swabs:
11 Treves Turquois has a lot of other similar inks.
12 Mauritshuis Magenta isn’t quite as vibrant as L’artisan Fuchsia.
13 Simplisties Violet is a bit lighter than J Herbin Violet Boreal.
14 Parkpop Purpur is similar to J Herbin Violette Pensee.
15 Voorhout Violet is closest to Sailor Ink Studio 452.
I used a Taroko Enigma notebook. All five inks had average flows.
Overall, I like all five of these inks. They are well behaved and nice colors. I probably wouldn’t get a full bottle of the turquoise because there are so many similar colors out there, but I really like the purples.
Disclaimer: All photos and opinions are my own. This page does not contain affiliate links, and is not sponsored in any way.
“Two souls, alas, dwell in my breast.” Like Goethe’s Doctor Faust, we all have an inner duality. Recent discoveries about the deep past of human evolution reveal that for more than a million years, humanity was divided into two distinct branches. About 300,000 years ago, those estranged cousins reunited. Every one of us carries within our genes the results of that split, and the reunion of those two mystery populations.
The discovery represents a major reversal of the prevailing theory of human evolution, which suggested that modern humans descended from a single ancestral lineage in Africa.
A more detailed family tree for humanity
Studying human evolution is like trying to solve a four-dimensional puzzle, with just a few pieces scattered across the entire world, and across millions of years. The findings, published in Nature Genetics by a team of researchers from the University of Cambridge, are based on a new method called coalescent-based reconstruction of ancient admixture (“cobraa” for short).
Imagine cobraa as a mathematical detective, examining full-genome sequences of modern human DNA to determine how populations intermixed and evolved over time. Astonishingly, simply by analyzing genetic clues from modern humans (rather than by examining any ancient DNA), cobraa can build a more detailed family tree for humanity than ever before — and can do so for other species too, by the way.
Here’s the big takeaway for Homo sapiens: About 1.5 million years ago, our distant ancestors split into two distinct groups, labelled A and B on this graph. Soon after the separation, group A experienced an evolutionary bottleneck: its population shrank radically. This may have been due to climate change, food scarcity, or some other challenge, but at this point, nobody really knows.
Group A eventually recovered and generated evolutionary offshoots; Neanderthals and Denisovans were genetically distinct human populations that evolved from this separate strand of humanity. (Neanderthals were genetically distinct enough to be considered a separate species. Due to a lack of fossils, the jury is still out on the Denisovans.)
That was well before around 300,000 years ago, when Groups A and B reintegrated with each other. However, it is also possible to say that Group A absorbed Group B, as the genetic legacy of Group A in our shared ancestry is approximately 80%, while that of Group B is only about 20%.
Group B genes may have been important
The research suggests that some of the genes contributed by Group B, the minority population, particularly those related to brain function and neural processing, may have played a crucial role in human evolution.
The study also found that genes inherited from Group B were often located away from regions of the genome associated with gene functions, suggesting that they may have been less compatible with the majority of the genetic background. This hints at a process known as purifying selection, where natural selection removes harmful mutations over time.
The Khoisan emerged as a separate group well before another group of humans left Africa, and incorporated DNA from Neanderthals and Denisovans. But what both groups, and the main population of Africa today have in common, is that they derive from not one, but two genetically distinct groups of humans, which had lived separate lives for more than a million years. (Credit: Nature Genetics/University of Cambridge Department of Genetics)
Sometime before 100,000 years ago, the Khoisan emerged as a distinct population within our species. The Khoisan are the indigenous, pre-Bantu peoples of Southern Africa, composed of two groups: the pastoralist Khoikhoi and the San, hunter-gatherers otherwise known as the Bushmen. About 22,000 years ago, they constituted the bulk of humanity. Today, they number only about 100,000 individuals, and their ancient languages and lifestyles are under threat of extinction.
Over the millennia, genetic exchange between the Khoisan and non-Khoisan populations in Africa has continued. Around 50,000 years ago, humanity sprouted another branch when a small population left Africa. They went on to populate the rest of the world and, in a re-do of the previous merger, they absorbed what remained of the Neanderthal and Denisovan populations, who, according to this graph, contributed about 2% of the DNA of non-African populations.
Applying the cobraa method to chimpanzees, gorillas, dolphins, and bats, the researchers found these species exhibit similar patterns of genetic exchange and reintegration, supporting the idea that few, if any, species evolve in isolated, distinct lineages, and that genetic exchange and reintegration may be the norm rather than the exception.
The researchers hope to refine their methods to account for more gradual genetic exchanges than the sharp splits and reunions suggested by their current model. They also want to relate their findings to discoveries in anthropology, which suggest that early humans may have been more diverse than previously thought.
When author Josh Rountree’s story just wasn’t quite working, he decided to change his perspective. Literally. Travel back in time in the Big Idea for his newest novel, The Unkillable Frank Lightning, and see how switching things up narratively ended up being the solution to his problem.
JOSH ROUNTREE:
Well, I’m knee deep in monsters now, aren’t I?
A lot of my Big Ideas these days seem to involve them. For a while now I’ve been working on a series of monster stories set in long ago Texas. I’ve tackled werewolves and snake-headed harvest gods. Vengeful mermaids and The Creature from the Black Lagoon. Now I’ve worked my way up to one of the greatest monsters of all time.
Frankenstein! (Cue lightning strike.)
Or Frankenstein’s monster, I guess.
My Big Idea for The Unkillable Frank Lightning was to tell a version of the Frankenstein story, set in the Old West. I had plenty I wanted to say about death. How breaking the fundamental laws of nature to bring a person back to life would be a really bad idea, with consequences that would reach far beyond the reanimated corpse and those responsible for his resurrection. Frank Lightning is not the only character in this story who has cheated death, and all carry that around like a weight on their souls. And I wanted to say a lot about the mythology of the Old West. How wild west shows and Hollywood movies have sold us an often sanitized version of the period, that centers the wrong heroes.
But also? I wanted to see my monster go on a rampage. I wanted to see what would happen when an unkillable person found himself in a gunfight. I wanted black magic and secret occult orders and townspeople with torches.
I wanted my monster to tell us his story.
But of course, the Big Idea doesn’t always unfold the way a writer expects it to. And the character you think is going to be at the center of it all isn’t always the voice that comes alive and demands to be heard. I worked several months, trying to tell this story through the monster’s point of view, and eventually realized it just wasn’t working. I tried alternating points of view, trying to tell the story through the eyes of various characters. But one voice, that of Catherine Coldbridge, spoke louder than all the rest. And I realized she was my protagonist. She was the character to tell this story.
Catherine is my “mad scientist” in this tale. My Dr. Frankenstein stand-in. She’s a doctor in the 1870’s, and she’s a member of an occult order called the Three Rose Temple. Catherine is an orphan, and when she loses her husband too, it causes her to make one terrible decision that will haunt her for decades.
Catherine is terribly flawed, and desperate to make amends. She is determined and practical and willing to forgive anyone but herself. She is an exceptionally strong woman who has, for a time, given up on her life and let the world ruin her. But as she beings to tell her story, Catherine is finally beginning to emerge from that sorry state, and planning to take control again. Catherine is endlessly fascinating to me, and as soon as she started telling the tale, it poured out of her, and it poured out of me, and I knew we were in this together.
Catherine Coldbridge is not our typical pulp western hero. But who needs more cowboys in white hats? Who needs another hard man with a thousand-yard stare to ride in and save the day?
In the dark forests surrounding the waters of sphagnum bogs, ringed boghaunter dragonflies haunt the air. They can be seen flitting though the shadows of the woods, seemingly disappearing as they land on the bare ground or fallen leaves where they blend in with their surroundings. These rare dragonflies prefer to be surrounded by mature forests for the breeding of their larvae and nymphs. Because of their unique habitat needs, ringed boghaunter dragonflies have only been recorded in a handful of locations in the U.S., including Michigan, where this ringed boghaunter was photographed. Photo taken on May 26, 2014.
Photo Details: Camera Maker: OLYMPUS IMAGING CORP; Camera Model: E-5; Lens: 105.0 mm f/2.8 macro; Focal Length: 105mm; Aperture: f/7.1; Exposure Time: 0.0050 s (1/200); ISO equiv: 200; Software: Aperture 3.5.1.
I’ve been making more charcuterie boards than usual lately, and I’d like to think practice makes fairly decent, so I’d like to show y’all some of my recent spreads I’ve done for gatherings and parties and whatnot. I usually post them on Instagram and Bluesky, but just in case you missed them, you can get your fix right here and now!
For the 4th of July I was in Texas, and my friend hosted a party, for which I volunteered to supply some snackage for. Here’s the charcuterie board:
For this board, I used prosciutto, salami, Munster, Kerrygold aged cheddar, Brie, chimichurri gouda, fig and honey goat cheese, candied pecans, Castelvetrano olives, Mike’s Hot Honey, Honeycomb, and cherries. Everything on there except the pecans I picked up at H.E.B.
This was the rest of what I served:
While the salsa and guac I bought pre-made from H.E.B., I did assemble the watermelon, feta, and mint salad and drizzled it with honey, and put together the caprese skewers with balsamic glaze. I honestly think this turned out really well! I was very happy with my summery salad and light bites.
Just a few days ago I got my AppyHour Box (which I have regrettably not been doing posts over lately!) and decided to make a little board for my dad and his friend that was visiting from out of town.
This board consisted of a Togarashi cheese, an aged gouda, a smoked goat cheese, dried cherries, coppa, and prosciutto (I think it was a Calabrian Chili prosciutto?). The two jams I forgot to take the lids off of are a caramelized pear and honey spread, and a raspberry hibiscus jam. I thought this was a cute little lunch for my dad and his guest, and I’m glad the enjoyed it.
Finally, this past weekend, I hosted a friend’s baby shower at the church. She said she expected around fifty people to attend, and I can say with confidence I’ve never tried to make a spread for that many people before. I was definitely intimidated, but I was determined to make an approachable spread that would appeal to the masses and not spend hundreds of dollars doing it.
I didn’t capture everything, but here’s the gist of how it turned out:
There was also cucumbers, bell peppers, baby carrots, celery, cherry tomatoes, dill dip, salsa, tortilla chips, garden vegetable entertainment crackers, fig and sesame crisps, honey mustard mini pretzels, rosemary flatbread crackers, coconut macaroons, chocolate covered pretzels, chocolate covered shortbread cookies, and chocolate covered Belgian waffle cookies.
Other than the tortilla chips, whole grain mustard, fig spread, rosemary almonds, and chocolate covered pretzels, I bought everything at Aldi, and despite buying doubles if not three of absolutely everything I listed, my total came out to $220. I was able to make this huge spread and refill it when it got low and feed 50 guests for just over $200. Who knew Aldi was so cool?! I spent about fifty bucks more than that on my spread for the Texas party, and that was only to feed about ten people.
The best thing on the spread from Aldi was the honey mustard mini pretzels, or the chocolate covered waffle cookies. I am definitely going to be stopping at Aldi more often for some surprisingly cheap and yummy treats.
What item looks the best to you? What’s your go-to cheese to serve for entertaining guests? Am I the only one who didn’t realize how neat Aldi was? Let me know in the comments, and have a great day!
Author Marie Vibbert is back on the blog today with a fresh new novel that’s bigger and badder than ever. Dive into her Hellcats universe once more and see the world from an all new perspective in Andrei and the Hellcats.
MARIE VIBBERT:
Why are all sex robots depicted as miserable? Wouldn’t they just program them to be really horny? Thus, I created the character of Andrei: a sex-positive sex robot who loves his job, and humans. All the humans. When Galactic Hellcats was released in 2021, people responded warmly to this minor character, and when I asked, “What do you want in a sequel?” one of the top responses was, “More Andrei! And let him have sex! Why do you have two sex bots in this book and no one gets past second base?”
Why? Because my dad might read this book! I didn’t say that. I blushed and affirmed I would try harder in the sequel to be as uninhibited as Andrei.
And sequel time has come! My first goal was a book that wouldn’t require reading the previous one, and so Andrei and the Hellcats is from Andrei’s perspective, as a relative outsider. As I drafted, I realized that my little idea about sex robot preferences led into a bigger idea: how do we form our moral preferences? Can robots (or AI) have a conscious choice in their morality? What does that say about morality itself?
I know, that sounds heavy for a book about a sex robot enlisting a space biker gang to rescue his sister from an evil queen, but come drop down this mental rabbit hole with me.
As I fleshed out Andrei’s character to take center stage, I had to confront aspects of his life, personality, and preferences. He likes sex, a lot. Check. So why does he work as a hospitality manager at a space station instead of enjoying an all he can shag buffet at a brothel? Did he have a choice, or was he built for this role? Was he hired or purchased?
All of these questions funnel down into the intersection of consent and capitalism. Andrei cares a lot about consent in sex; he has whole libraries of code for it. He recognizes hesitation, the body language of distress and coercion. “I don’t enjoy inflicting harm,” he laments at one point, “I’m really only comfortable when there are safe words.” Yet he has never examined his own consent to play the role assigned to him, until the evil queen comes along and kidnaps him and his sister. He thinks Queen Jasmine of Ratana is simply roleplaying “Evil Queen and the mindless sexbot” until after their tryst, when she waves her hand and says “deactivate yourself.” Through her words and actions she makes it clear she doesn’t think Andrei is self-aware, and he realizes she felt that way the entire time they were fooling around. This prompts a moral crisis: have other clients of his mistaken play for reality? Does he need to update his most sacred algorithms?
Poor Andrei! What is sapience? What is consent? I wanted to have him follow this rabbit hole to money as a motivation, anti-capitalist gal that I am. To that end, I had this fun idea to have him in conflict with the Hellcats. They are, to put it mildly, uninterested in property rights, especially kleptomaniac Ki. Wouldn’t it be a hoot if, having finally enlisted the gang, he’d interrupt the ensuing caper with, “Excuse me, does that belong to you? Put it back.”
To quote Ki, “Ugh, it’s like taking my social worker on a heist!”
Nothing makes a plot outline happier than juicy, theme-relevant complications! But I found the right opening for my little gag difficult to find, and part of that was, well, I was already forcing Andrei to confront his programming through every step of the plot. First the evil queen, then I put him on his own on a strange planet with nothing but his keen fashion sense and gift of gab. How can he find where they’ve taken her? How can he begin to save her? He has no local currency and has to contemplate breaking his programmed reverence for property rights to even get to a point where he can start searching in earnest. He wonders why he can’t bring himself to steal what he needs, why he was programmed to be a good little capitalist. “Were we designed to desire things to keep us working? Could we learn to do without designer clothes and porn subscriptions?”
By the time he gets to the Hellcats, he’s ready to hear Ki out when she takes it upon herself to turn him to the lawless side of the force. He has already seen that laws can be unjust; the queen’s law declares him and his sister property! When Ki compares hoarding money to hoarding kisses, Andrei accepts that ownership is not as important as good snogs… or the safety of sapient beings.
As I was writing, I found myself a little envious of Andrei. He can consciously edit his moral programming when he discovers a bias in it, while I make the same gaffs nine or ten thousand times before I learn. Well, so do the Hellcats. They have those relationship arcs to get through, all that learning what and who to prioritize. So while he learns from them, Andrei gets to drop some truth bombs in return. “Darling, I get it. When you and your brother left the factory… I mean, when you were born, your settings were the same…. Then you were sent out into the world, and your programs updated.”
Ninety percent of writing a novel is making decisions. Where could I fit in my little anti-theft Andrei gaff? Well, I couldn’t. Then I realized he still cared about the rule of law. Ah ha! The confrontation now comes not from stealing, but from breaking and entering, and I got to use all the snarky lines I had daydreamed.
Andrei sighs, “Humans take so long to make decisions! How did they ever get around to inventing us?”
(… she wrote, thinking about her own plot outlining.)
That accomplished, I was free to make everything worse! Bwah ha ha. Have to push all those moral lessons harder with some external examples, right? So they all get captured in a forced labor camp. It’s dark. I found myself pausing on a scene where an explosive implant takes out a guy’s arm because sometimes they just go off and thinking, “Um, self? Is this still a lighthearted space romp?” And lo, the moral quandary has come home: the choices I make as an author can reflect my own morality (or lack thereof.)
I couldn’t just have them blow up their way out of there, leaving the other slaves behind. Crap. I had to go back and change the entire ending heist to reflect my values of collective action. Andrei, I hope, would be proud.
Andrei gets through the plot, the Hellcats get through the plot, and the author gets through the plot: each a little wiser for it.
The book should be available wherever books are sold. Have your local independent bookstore order it, or your library!
I am so lucky that I have her to sense-check these things with. I had been getting sucked deeper and deeper into my feelings of shame, of being wrong, sinful, of being certain that everyone thought I was a terrible person and absolutely hated me. It felt so hard to believe the words that my wife was telling me, but I knew she would only tell me the truth.
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