wiscon As usual, the dessert was great, and they seemed to have things pretty well under control. There were chairs in the hallway for the waiting throngs, and people bringing glasses and pitchers of ice water so that no one would pass out or be uncomfortable. It was fun to sit there and listen to the incredible conversations going on all around us.
After the well-deserved thanks to all those who did so much work, there were short, introductory speeches from organizations affiliated with Wiscon, such as Broad Universe, the Tiptree Award, the Japanese Tiptree Award, Interstitial Arts, and the Carl Brandon Society all of which were interesting. (Best line (paraphrased) - the woman describing the Japanese Tiptree Award, "Due to the publicity of this award, science fiction authors who have never shown any interest in gender issues or feminism are contacting us and asking, 'What is gender?'") The Carl Brandon Society announced that they will begin giving awards next year, celebrating people of color in science fiction. Their aim is to raise at least $2500 to do this, and people began running up and shoving money at them while they were still talking.
Gwynneth Jones spoke first. (My perceptions of her changed completely this morning. I was in line at the GoH signing, and a young lady took advantage of a lull in the line in front of her to ask some possibly personal questions. "Does it hurt to get your nose pierced?" "Yes, it does." Some back and forth I didn't catch, but I did hear Jones say, "And whatever you do, insist on a hollow needle. You must have flesh removed, or the hole will never heal properly and you'll always have problems.") She started talking about the novel, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden, a book a remembered with a shock as she described it. She suggested that madness and creativity are related, which she admitted was a commonplace, and suggested we imagine that all an authors characters are visible around them as wraiths. What would people think if they could see our characters? This was a lead in to the feminist issue: can women be made insane by social pressure? Do the pressures of exclusion drive women who want to be taken seriously mad? She read a short section from her recent novel, Life, in which madness was a metaphor for the oppression of women. She finished by saying that the author of I Never Promised You a Rose Garden is now a professor in Colorado. "From a broken mind to to opening the minds of young people. I can't imagine a happier ending."
Robin McKinley gave a polished speech. She started by saying that she almost always turns down invitations from America (she lives in England), but she has a strong partiality for WisCon and feminist writing. ("In England, I still get the reaction, 'Funny, you don't look like a feminist.' We all know what that means. The temptation is always to punch them in the eye, and as they stand there trying to staunch the blood, say, 'Now do I look like a feminist?'") She talked about moving, noting that whatever else it is, it is the end of life as one knows it at the time. Because of this dislocation, she had periods of disconnection and wasn't sure what to talk about. Her life is more restricted than ever before, but she is finding that this new focus has it's gifts. She has been forced by circumstances to set strict priorities. ("My idea of housework is to sweep the room with a glance.") LIfe is inherently chaotic, and she is coming to terms with not knowing what is coming next. Change ringing is magic, because bells have personalities that go beyond their metal. Homeopathy is magic, because there is no lab equipment that can explain why it works. Despite the fact that her life has come apart in strange and scary ways, all the pieces seem to revolve around bell ringing, homeopathy, vampires and magic, and knowing that may be enough to get through the mess.
Then, some anouncements about Wiscon 30 - Kate Wilhelm and Jane Yolen will be Guests of Honor. Joanna Russ will be interviewed by phone, and all previous Guests of Honor (70 of them) will be invited back again.