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Beef Bourguignon

BB-Plated-2017-03-16-15.44Beef Bourguignon is the French cousin to pot roast, with the addition of red wine, large cubes of beef and very slow cooking to make it all tender. At the end, the liquids are separated from the beef, carrots, potatoes and onion and reduced and thickened to become a silky sauce to serve over the solids.

Key to getting the most flavor is browning the meat as well as the carrots and mushrooms. When browning in a skillet, it’s important not to touch the pieces until you turn them, cooking them for 4-6 minutes on each side over medium heat. Prep time for this is 45 minutes to an hour with all the browning, and cooking time is 4-6 hours, so be sure to get an early start.

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Chain of Command by Frank Chadwick

chain of commandFrank Chadwick’s latest novel in his Varoki/Human universe moves away from the seamy underbelly of crime society he showed us in How Dark the World Becomes and Come the Revolution to his first full-on space navy novel as the Varoki decide it’s time to preempt human expansion. Earth’s coalition Navy is out there to protect the colonies, but they haven’t fought a war in generations, so their focus has become looking good for review boards, rather than keeping the pointy edges keen.

With the alien Varoki posturing increasingly aggressively, Earth decides to increase its military presence near K’tok, the only world besides Earth that supports human-compatible life, but which also has a Varoku colony on it. Navy reservist Sam Bitka gets pulled from his ascending career track at a fabricator (read 3D printer plus) to head the tactical department on the USS Puebla, heading for K’tok. As a reservist, he’s not a candidate for any of the operations slots, which are reserved for career Navy and Academy grads, rather than ROTC types like Sam. Because In a peacetime navy it’s important to look like you can fight, but it’s more important to look like you fit in, which Sam just doesn’t. Fortunately for everyone.

When the task force gets hammered by a stealth attack, Sam finds himself first elevated to XO to a captain that majors in the minors and falls apart as the conflict escalates. Taking command isn’t anything Sam wants, but ultimately, it’s thrust on him. The aliens have come up with a bag of dirty tricks that we didn’t see coming, including a way to turn the ftl/jump drives on our bigger ships against us. Fortunately, the destroyers are too small to have jump drives, so when the fleet pulls back, it’s up to a handful of these ships to stand in harm’s way and block the alien aggression. With their backs to the wall, the destroyers must hold the line alone.

Sam has a hands- on technical background and a knack for tactics, but pulling a ship together and overcoming the crew’s peacetime inertia just wasn’t on his bucket list. Nor did he expect the ships upgraded missiles to be unusable due to insufficient testing. The Puebla isn’t without teeth, but it’s not all it should be, which describes both ship and crew. Bit by bit, Sam figures out how to patch up both, and bit by bit the Puebla takes the fight to the enemy. The cost is considerable though, and Sam discovers the weight of command.

He has a penchant for asking questions that others have been trained out of, and he’s especially keen on why we’re at war, and why we fight at all. Trying to understand what the Navy means is as hard for him as uncovering what the aliens really want. His internal struggles come from dealing with his conversion from citizen to soldier, or at least citizen-soldier, and from the loss of a crewmate he’d been close to. Close, but not close enough to cross over into fraternization, which has interesting consequences in his inability to get past her loss.

The future Navy is a mixed bag of pompous politicos and hardworking enlisted types, with a fortunate leavening of capable officers in the mix. Sam builds alliances in the fleet, but in the end, he’ll make decisions and do what needs doing alone.

Chain of Command is very smartly put together, which is probably a testament to the author’s previous career as a role-playing game creator with the Game Designers’ Workshop, which he helped start. The trend of game designers turned SF writers is really working out for us, if authors like Ty Frank (The Expanse) and Frank Chadwick are any indication. Chadwick gets the details right, whether he’s talking about the effects of prolonged weightlessness or the intricacies of geo and interstellar politics and economics, but he doesn’t let the details get in the way of the story. Weill, hardly ever. He does inject a bit of exposition in here and there, but it’s good exposition.

Technologically, Chadwick plays it straight. No anti-gravity, force fields, tractor beams or magically efficient engines that can push you around at high gees for hours on end. The sole exception is the “jump drive,” which is alien tech developed by the Varoki and the backbone of the economic and political empire they’ve been creating. It’s also the source of conflict with the humans, who stubbornly won’t stop trying to crack its secrets and build their own, which the Varoki fear would destabilize the Cottohazz, their  federation of worlds, and let the “aggressive, violent, and impulsive humans” become their rivals and eventual usurpers.

You almost feel sorry for them

The story could easily have been dragged out into a series of books, but it’s satisfyingly complete. That doesn’t mean there isn’t room in this universe for more, and Chadwick’s previous two novels show his willingness to follow a character for more than one book, so we can hope for either a sequel or spin-off from the books events. I’ve only noted the main character here, but there are plenty of interesting folks that would merit exploration, notably the fleet intel chief, Cassandra “Red Duchess” Atwater Jones (Royal Navy) on the human side and her alien opposite number, “Speaker for the Enemy”  Vice-Captain Takaar Nuvaash, who is almost as puzzled about the reason for the war as our hero.

Chain of Command is a solid piece of mil-sf writing that pulls from many historical sources and manages to convey a lot of what the Surface Navy is like. Chadwick isn’t prior military (as far as I can tell) but he’s steeped himself in WWII histories and novels and taken excellent notes. Like the destroyer sailors of the Pacific, he shows that it isn’t the steel hulls that make the navy tough, it’s the sailors that crew them.

 

 

 

Artemis by Andrew Weir

artemis by andy weirAndy Weir’s new novel breaks away from the world of his first book, The Martian, and moves forward a bit in time to the first lunar city, Artemis. It also breaks away from professional astronauts like Mark Watney to tell the story of a young and fiercely independent woman, Jazz Bashara, who has a talent for trouble, a mild disregard for rules, and a past she’s unable to come to terms with. She’s a glorified delivery person in the main, a smuggler on the side, and she’s living in a locker on the poor side of town to save money for her plan. The author doesn’t tell you what that plan is until the end of the book, which is a pity, as I’d have liked her better at the start if we’d had a clue. So, there you are, a clue.

We meet Jazz during a stroll on the lunar surface gone wrong. She’s trying to qualify for entry to the EVA Guild, which would pay well and give her more options for her side business, but a cracked suit valve turns up the excitement and spoils her exam. Following that, she makes a run with some contraband to her favorite customer, Trond, a Norwegian ex-pat tech billionaire, who migrated to the moon to give his crippled daughter a chance at a normal life in the moon’s gravity. Trond has a big deal in the works, but it needs someone to step outside the law to pull off, and Jazz is everyone’s favorite petty criminal, so he taps her for it.

It’s something considerably beyond smuggling, and outside Jazz’s comfort zone. But not so far outside that the offer of a massive payday can’t bend her rules. Now Jazz can add industrial saboteur to her rap sheet, or she could if Artemis has rap sheets, or a real police department. As it is, she just has to deal with Rudy, an ex-RCMP cop who moved to the moon and is the total law enforcement presence. For minor offences, Rudy wings it, but for major offences, it’s a one-way trip back to Earth where your country of origin can deal with you.

Jazz gets deeper and deeper into a dangerous and complicated game as she’s caught between corporate giants vying over the future of Artemis, and a lot of money. Though Jazz likes to operate on her own, there are just too many moving parts, so the story goes from Jazz’s solo adventure to an Ocean’s Eleven sort of caper. I wish it had made the transition sooner. Jazz ultimately comes to understand that she has a role to play in determining the colony’s future and that she stands at a pivotal point in the balance of power.

There are a lot of differences between Jazz Bashara and Mark Watney, but there are some common elements too. They’re both smart people and hard-core survivalists, which is fortunate, because the universe doesn’t care what happens to either of them. What intrigued me most is that they’re both very much alone. Mark has the better part of the human race rooting for him, and Jazz has a few admirers in the wings, but they’re both on their own as far as saving themselves goes, at least until the final round, when they both pull together a team effort. Mark’s alone by accident, but Jazz has cut herself off from her father and everyone around her after making a number of mistakes in relationships, burning her bridges behind her. Jazz sorts it out as the book goes on, but it makes it hard to warm up to her—that, and her hazy disregard for rules.

Jazz thinks she’s smarter than the rules, which is a bad attitude for someone living in a totally artificial environment. The moon is too locked down in rules, cliques, and guilds for Jazz’s taste, so she just ignores the ones she disagrees with, and bends the ones she thinks are too restrictive. She’s OK with bringing in a few restricted flammables like cigarettes and sound-absorbing padding to the moon, but draws the line at things she thinks are really dangerous. She manages this with the help of an Earthside accomplice who she got to know through a pen pal assignment she had in grade school. He wanted to be a rocket scientist, but wound up a cargo master. Once, Jazz would have been happy to be a welder like her father, but things change, and now she’s set her sights on being rich.

Artemis is closer to science fiction than The Martian was. Sure, both are fiction and full of science, and both will appeal to SF readers, but these books are not aimed at that audience. Mark Watney’s log for posterity and Jazz’s snappy interior dialog are full of exposition of the sort that will make regular readers of science fiction roll their eyes. That’s OK, because the real audience for this book seems to be mainstream readers who the author is hoping to lure in by making science accessible. It’s closer to science fiction as a genre than The Martian was because it is both more speculative and brings in bigger themes. In The Martian, the world was the way things are now, with a Mars mission added on. In Artemis, the story is based on a big “what if?” which is characteristic of science fiction. Here, the African nation of Kenya has taken advantage of its equatorial location to be become the center of the space faring world and the power behind the creation of Artemis, which is technically an offshore platform under Kenyan jurisdiction. That premise, and the author’s delving into the economic forces involved, bring Artemis into the fold.

There are plenty of lunar colony novels and short stories to compare Artemis to, some of them even with young female protagonists. Both Robert Heinlein’s “The Menace From Earth” (1957) and Podkayne of Mars (1962-63) both share some of the same elements as Artemis, even if Jazz isn’t exactly a girl scout and Podkayne wasn’t on the moon. Much more recently Ian McDonald’s excellent Luna Novels, Luna: New Moon (2015), and the recently-published sequel Luna: Wolf Moon (2017) give an exquisitely-detailed look at lunar culture and technology. The pivotal matriarch’s story is told in his short story, “The Fifth Dragon,” in which a woman reflects on her early days on the moon and the choices she made. You can read it at Tor’s website (https://www.tor.com/2015/09/01/the-fifth-dragon/). Lately it’s been mining H3 for fusion reactors in both books like McDonald’s series or movies like Moon. In Artemis, the moon’s most lucrative business seems to be separating rich tourists and immigrants from their cash. The novel’s plot revolves around coming up with a better economic engine, so I won’t spoil it, but it’s surprising that there weren’t more options already.

Artemis falls short of the mark left by The Martian, at least for me, though in some ways it’s a more ambitious work. It’s possible that Weir is targeting young women with this mix of rebellion and science, and that the book will interest them in doing science and reading more stories like this. That would be great, but Artemis is unlikely to get on any established science fiction reader’s best-of-the-year list.

John Oliver – I’m a Jester, Dammit, Not a Journalist.

TV STILL -- DO NOT PURGE -- LAST WEEK TONIGHT WITH JOHN OLIVER: John Oliver. photo:Emily Shur/HBO

LAST WEEK TONIGHT WITH JOHN OLIVER: John Oliver. photo:Emily Shur/HBO

I caught an interview with John Oliver, formerly of the Daily Show with Jon Stewart, and now on into the third season of his own comedy show, Last Week Tonight.

He pushed back on the obvious question. Are you a journalist? No, I’m a comedian, he insisted.

The fact that his show is doing the sort of in depth investigative journalism that NPR itself prides itself on, and goes places 60 minutes doesn’t dare tread, undermines his claim, and personally I think he’s being disingenuous…but that doesn’t make him wrong. In fact, I think he’s right, though I’m not quite sure he knows why.

Journalism’s job is to inform people. To bring them the facts and educate them on issues. It’s job isn’t to make their minds up for them. Undoubtedly you’re taking internal exception to that and thinking about media bias in one direction or another, but while that’s rampantly true, it’s besides the point. Journalism’s beat is finding what’s true and presenting it to us. Like any human institution, it falls prey to special interests who warp it to their own ends, something that happens on the left, right, and middle of the ideological spectrum, which undermines it and makes it hard to accomplish its mission. But it doesn’t change the mission.

Comedy, on the other hand has a different, but closely aligned mission. It too is based in fact. As Oliver said, “You can ‘t build jokes on sand. You can’t be wrong about something, otherwise that joke…disintegrates.” Comedy get’s the audience to engage with uncomfortable facts, by putting them in a context that makes them tolerable. Much of comedy is based on building up the listener’s anxiety and then releasing it with a punch line. Comedy has to be rooted in the real, but by adding an element of the surreal, it makes that tolerable, something news alone can’t do.


So, is Oliver a comedian? Yes, but that doesn’t mean that he’s simply an entertainer. The jester holds a valuable position in the news delivery system: it is he who apes the king, mocks the bishop, and reveals the commonality of concerns amongst the people that the court wish hidden.

NPR: Interview: http://www.npr.org/player/v2/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=466569047&m=466584981

David Hartwell Retrospective: December 2002 SFRevu Interview

Editor David Hartwell died yesterday (January 20th, 2016) following an accident. (http://www.tor.com/2016/01/20/tor-books-editor-david-g-hartwell-1941-2016/).

As someone interested in a critical view of science fiction and hard sf in particular, David was an inspiration and a source of encouragement whenever I saw him at conventions or SFWA gatherings. I liked him quite a lot, and I’ll miss him and his ongoing contribution to the field.

Back in 2002 I did an interview with him for SFRevu, which I’m reposting here.

David Hartwell Interview:

After getting Co-Editor Kathryn Kramer to autograph my copy of The Hard SF Renaissance while breastfeeding, I dragged her husband and collaborator, David Hartwell, off to talk about the book, SF, and David Hartwell.

Ernest: Dealers have repeatedly tried to pry this book out of my cold dead hands…

David: That’s great, but actually we have a commercial disaster here. Because of the various print problems (it had to go back to the printer) it slipped in the publication schedule, went into a different catalog season, and lost all the reorders (because it came out later than planned).

Ernest: Hopefully, if you bring this out as a trade…

David: Which we will.

Ernest: …the short quantities will make readers really hungry for it, and the Hardcover copies will become collectables right away. It’s a great collection, and I liked it a lot.

David: We’re very proud of it, we’re pleased with the reception it’s gotten so far. We have a companion volume on Space Opera we hope to have out early next year.

Ernest: What’s it going to be called?

David: The Space Opera Renaissance.

We started out doing one book. We knew there was a big thing happening in the 90’s, and it involved Hard Science Fiction and Space Opera. We thought that’s what we were working with, but when we really examined the stories, the writers, and what the writers said about the stories, we realized we were working with two different pieces of the evolution of the literature. That Hard SF and Space Opera were both changing. There were developments happening at the same historical moment…but they weren’t really related. There was another development at the same time — Alternate History, but that was a new wave, not a renaissance and we weren’t following that.

One of the things about SF is that nothing ever really goes away. Every different kind of science fiction from the 30s to the present has still been written all along, but these things were prominent developments in the 90s.

We were calling the book The Science Fiction Renaissance, and we got to a point about halfway through the book when decided to divide it into Hard SF and Space Opera.

Ernest: The current volume has 41 stories, which still isn’t exactly light reading.

David: Oh no. In order to document a historical process, we need a lot of examples, and they can’t be short, minor examples, they have to be fairly major. That’s how you prove your case. That’s what literary evidence is. You need a big book.

Ernest: Well, there were twelve authors in Mirrorshades, the definitive Cyberpunk anthology, and James Kelly said that half of them were dragooned into “The Movement” because Bruce Sterling had only come to you with six…  David: …and I said that you need twelve to make a movement. So Bruce looked around and said, “I can find twelve.” Ernest: Well, there were twelve authors in Mirrorshades, the definitive Cyberpunk anthology, and James Kelly said that half of them were dragooned into “The Movement” because Bruce Sterling had only come to you with six…

David: …and I said that you need twelve to make a movement. So Bruce looked around and said, “I can find twelve.”

And yet, it was a very strong book. Mirrorshades was a very good, very strong book.

Ernest: How do you work on the book?

David: First we do a lot of research in Best of the Year lists, and volumes, and Locus polls and Nebula lists and that sort of thing to try and define the universe of stories we should be dealing with.

When we have a list of four or five hundred stories that are relevant to our topic, we try to find them, and we start to read both the stories and their context. What the writers said about them, what other people said about them when they were published. After going through that sifting process, we pick what we consider the most prominent examples. Not necessarily the best stories, in the pure story sense but the most prominent and important examples and make the book contents of that.

Ernest: so how easy is it to decide on the collection.

David: We spend about half the process adding and subtracting stories until we’ve got a structure we think is very solid and then we spend about two months of really intensive work putting everything in the story notes. We’ve written the introduction after we’ve done the research, and we redraft the introduction after we get the stories and have a better idea of what we’re doing.

Ernest: If the Golden Age of SF was about twelve, as you said in The Age of Wonder, what’s the age of the New Hard SF? Has it grown up at all?

David: The Golden Age of SF is Twelve is a metaphorical as well as a literal statement. There is always a certain percentage of Science Fiction that’s written in adult language that’s beyond the interest range of most 12 to 15 year olds…but that’s a minority. The majority of it is still accessible to the wild eyed younger reader who has discovered Science Fiction and is very enthusiastic.

Ernest: But doesn’t the New Hard SF incorporate the adult concerns at least to the point where the stories make sense on those levels? That they’re defensible in adult terms?

David: I don’t know. Kids…fifteen year olds say…in the same week a fifteen year old can read a Hardy Boy’s Mystery and Samuel Delany’s  Dahlgren, and get something different out of each of them. So I don’t want to make too many find distinctions about age of audience, because I think one of the strengths of the New Hard SF is that it’s for nearly the entire Science Fiction readership. I don’t think it’s a sudden grown up version, I think it’s simply very, very, good.

There used to be a concerted attempt among the magazines and  publishers of Science Fiction to keep the language accessible to twelve year olds and to make it not offend their parents. This was explained to me in some detail when I came into the publishing industry in 1970. That had gone out the window by ’75.

Fred Pohl told me that he edited so as not to offend the parents of twelve year olds, so that the kids could read the magazines. He wasn’t worried about the twelve year olds themselves.

Ernest: Growing up, did you come from a reading household or were you a closet reader?

David: My father was an MIT engineer, and never read fiction for pleasure. He read technical journals. My mother was a grade school teacher, and I picked up on science fiction when I was in the 5th grade (which would make him…not quite 12) and I started reading it obsessively, neurotically, compulsively, enthusiastically.

Ernest: So, what was the first book?

David: The first book was Tom Swift and his Television.

Ernest: Wow. That must have been late in the original series.

David: Very late. I went back and found the rest of the original series and read them in a great big gulp.  (Tom Swift and his Electric Runabout, Motorboat, Giant Canon…and others too amazing to name.) Then I went to the Grade-School librarian for “more like this” and was introduced to both the town librarian and the college librarian, who pointed me towards anthologies. So my first year of reading Science Fiction was mostly that.

Ernest: So you got hooked on anthologies early on.

David: Absolutely. When I started editing some of the first books I edited were anthologies. Before I was an editor, going back to the 1960s, I tried to sell a couple of anthologies. I was a graduate student at Columbia, and I met a couple of editors, and they said…in effect…”Go away.”

There was an idea, prevalent, especially among readers, that anthologies must be easy to do. Which is not the case. It’s easy to do a bad anthology, but it’s very difficult to do a really good one.

Ernest: But I understand that anthologies don’t pay very well…especially for the editor.

David: Well, I got a six figure royalty for one of my anthologies, because it got picked up as a Science Fiction Book of the Month, and all the authors got additional royalties. That was a long time ago, but it was real money.

Ernest: But not everyone can be David Hartwell.

The two authors that I really liked were Robert A. Heinlein, and Kurt Vonnegut. It’s kind of an accident that I stumbled onto Vonnegut early, but his Player Piano was a selection of the Science Fiction Book Club the first year, and I was in Seventh grade. I was knocked over by Player Piano. David: I wasn’t David Hartwell, the anthologist then. That anthology was Dark Descent, which was a historical book about the evolution of Horror, and it was my first anthology.

Ernest: Who were your favorite authors when you were young?

David: The two authors that I really liked were Robert A. Heinlein, and Kurt Vonnegut.  It’s kind of an accident that I stumbled onto Vonnegut early, but his Player Piano was a selection of the Science Fiction Book Club the first year, and I was in Seventh grade.  I was knocked over by Player Piano.

Ernest: Player Piano was about automation and society…

David: It’s a humorous morally committed dystopian novel about post WWII Schenectady New York…and it’s a book I still like and admire. I was waiting for his next novel which was Sirens of Titan, several years later. I was meanwhile finding his stories in Science Fiction Magazines. I was going around trying to get people to read Mother Night, which was a non-SF novel sort of take on John Campbell. It was another really good one, and it’s been made into a really good movie no one has seen.

So, Heinlein and Vonnegut were both dealing with the same social concerns at the same time, but in diametrically opposed ways. For some reason, I was fascinated with both of them.

To say that they were my two favorite writers isn’t to say I wasn’t in love with dozens of others. I was crazy about Theodore Sturgeon. The first two paperbacks I bought, on the same day, were More Than Human and Childhood’s End. Ballantine paperbacks with Powers covers. Years later I bought the two covers along with my friend Paul Williams. He got the Sturgeon and I got the Clarke.

Ernest: Why is it always Heinlein?

Heinlein, in the generation after H.G. Wells, is simply the most important Science Fiction writer. He was the one who was so consistently imaginative, consistently prophetic in his attitudes, was able to take in so many things outside him that other writers weren’t able to deal with in such a general and global way…and he was a great con man. David: Well, Heinlein, in the generation after H.G. Wells, is simply the most important Science Fiction writer. He was the one who was so consistently imaginative, consistently prophetic in his attitudes, was able to take in so many things outside him that other writers weren’t able to deal with in such a general and global way…and he was a great con man. For the purpose of his stories he could con you into believing almost anything. He could con you into believing things you were too smart to believe in daily life. I loved the stuff. I thought he was wonderful.

He had this marvelous narrative voice in his fiction that seemed completely credible.

Obviously, he doesn’t speak to readers fifty years later the same way he did in 1950, but the only writer that has that kind of voice today is Scott Card.

Scot Card has this kind of wonderfully plausible voice that speaks to readers in a very important way. And Scott Card is a very major writer. There are ways in which he’s underrated, no matter how popular he is.

Ernest: Card doesn’t give the reader the kind of “you can be anything you want” message that Heinlein does. What does the reader take away from Card?

David: Different things from different books. Ender’s Game, which is certainly as popular as Heinlein, lets you take away the fantasy of being a super-kid. It’s an empowerment fantasy, discovering that you’re really, really powerful. That you really can affect the world, the galaxy, the universe. And that your actions have moral ramifications, which as the series goes on are pretty ambiguous.  But that’s good, and it’s part of the great tradition.

But there are lots of great traditions. Sturgeon was not like Heinlein, and Donald Kingsbury was not like Asimov…though Kingsbury writes in the same tradition…the wonderful rationalist tradition.

Ernest: In the Hard SF Stuff, I’ve always loved the dry Clarkian style.

David: Sure, and Benford and Steve Baxter and others are working in that vein, which is great.

Ernest: The female authors in the collection are about 10%, which seems to be about the representation

David: I’ve gotten 22% submissions in my poetry magazine over the years. Now, during the seventies, during a period of consciousness raising we did two important all women issues to encourage submissions from women. And then it went right back to 26-27%. And we had editors who were really, really, committed to doing this. People like Marilyn Hacker and Barbara Damrosch, very very high class stuff. But in most markets it’s still 27% and nobody cares who wrote it, they just care if it’s good.

Ernest: So should we stop worrying and just let what happens happen?

David: Yes. I don’t mind affirmative action from time to time, you can do an all women’s issue, or an all Caribbean issue or whatever. But when you go back to it the percentages will the same.

Ernest: What’s your title now at the New York Review of Science Fiction? Will the review ever go online?

David: It slides around. I’ve got an issue here…let me see. I’m the “Review and Features Editor”. If we ever had the volunteer labor, yes. But it’s got no economic model, except that we’ve got to break even. That’s our rule.