Of course, it only seems sudden — sekretly I’ve been preparing for weeks! 😉

UK/AU/NZ

Fantasy Faction

First off the blocks, I have  a guest post and The Wall of Night Series giveaway on Fantasy Faction. To read the post click on:

Five Legendary Swords Of Fantasy Fiction

And believe me, these swords all rock!
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Functional Nerds Podcast: Episode 264 — with John Anealio, Patrick Hester, & Me!

(You’ve got to read that intro like Neil Young’s “Marlon Brando, Pocahontas, and me.” 😉 )

Seriously though, I’m delighted to appear on the Functional Nerds podcast with John and Patrick, where I got to talk about the NASA app, The Man in the High Castle, Sherlock and more… To listen in, click on:

Functional Nerds: Episode 264 — with Helen Lowe
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Fantasy Heroines That Rock My World — On SF Signal

The 13th installment of Fantasy Heroines That Rock My World features Elfrid, from Ru Emerson’s The Princess of Flames — a book that I don’t believe receives nearly as much praise as it deserves.

However, I have tried to give Elfrid her deserved place in the limelight with a Heroines’ star billing. To find out why, click on:

Elfrid: The Princess of Flames

Enjoy the social media breakout!

Yesterday was the 5th anniversary of the February 22nd, 2011, earthquake that devastated my home city of Christchurch. I shared some thoughts here.

Today I am announcing an exciting project born out of the spirit of recovery and (once we rock past April 17) regeneration — the anthology, Leaving the Red Zone, put together by well known poets and editors, James Norcliffe and Joanna Preston, and published by Clerestory Press.

Here’s what the press release has to say:

“People talked about quake brain, but the Canterbury earthquakes, despite or because of this, generated amazing bursts of creativity: music, dance, astonishing street art; and poetry. 148 poems from 87 poets: here are sorrow, resignation, defiance, stoicism, humour black and wry, and everything in between.”

Plus I have three poems in the anthology, how cool is that? (Very cool, OK!)

The Launch:

The launch is on Monday 29, 7.00 pm – 8.30 pm, at The Laboratory, 17 West Belt, Lincoln — with copies available at a launch-only price of $30.

All profits are to go to the Mayor’s Earthquake Relief Fund.

To Buy Copies:

You can still purchase copies of Leaving the Red Zone, even if you can’t attend the launch. For “how to” and other pertinent details, email clerestory@xtra.co.nz 

The River of Flowers, at Medway Street

Today is the fifth anniversary of the February 22nd earthquake that claimed 185 lives, injured many other people, destroyed Christchurch’s central city, and resulted in the “red zoning” of considerable sections of residential suburbs, chiefly in the City’s east and in the hills.

And although it may seem like the sublime, given the above, to the ridiculous, the same earthquake also did over $100,000 damage to the house I live in, which remains unrestored, five years on.

Over these 5 years I have written a number of commemorative posts, commenting on various aspects of the earthquake aftermaths, including the need for leadership and vision, the “rebuild” as a saga of substandard repairs (in many cases on the taxpayers’ dollar), my personal situation, and other aspects of the “recovery.”

In many ways, the situation with Christchurch’s trees is also an aftermath of the earthquakes, arising from a deep-seated weariness of destruction and an equally profound desire to retain something of value.

I could put on my embedded reporter’s hat and address all these topics again. But I’m not going to.

Flowers for remembrance

Instead I’m going to tell you how I feel today, which is mostly sad. I usually listen to the Radio New Zealand news in the morning, but as soon as they began featuring interviews with people who had “been there” in some way on February 22nd, I had to switch it off. This is not reflection on the people or their stories, but I didn’t want to go there, reopening the old wounds.

Perhaps this is partly because my personal situation remains in limbo, because of the unresolved insurance claim. Or perhaps it is simply, as the recent 5.7 quake on Sunday 14th made clear, that I am nowhere near as close to “over it” as I had thought. Normalcy and recovery both remain a surface covering over a deep well of grief and loss.

I felt that grief and loss again today as I gathered with others in our community to remember. We came together on the riverbank, adjoining the site of the former Medway bridge (which became the twisted “Shaky Bridge”) to help create Christchurch’s river of flowers. The empty land that surrounded us is not a park (although many would like it to become one) but the Avonside-Dallington Residential Red Zone.

Just people, coming together

We observed two minutes of silence; school kids sang and performed a haka, then we all threw flowers into the river. A moment of memory for five years of grief and loss.

Is there a lesson in it? I suspect we all take different lessons, but for me it is about trying to look beyond ourselves: to be in community with others, not just in our immediately neighbourhood and city, but to have compassion for all those, wherever they are, who “suffer from any sickness, grief, or trouble.”

And to always ask ourselves the question: If I respond to those in trouble out of fear, what will I do? But if I act out of love, what will I do then?

It is easy to fall away from rising to that test, in the ongoing stress, uncertainty, and oftentimes quite simple “grunge” of the post-earthquake city. So if there is a benefit in today, it may be taking the time out to remember and reconnect with the values that got us through 2010-2011: people, community and acting toward others out of love and not fear.

It does not diminish the sorrow and the sense of loss, though: that, I suspect, will always be with us.

Over the past few days, I’ve been delighted to host Marion Drolsbach, who translated The Heir of Night into Dutch as Kind van der Nacht.

You may recall that she posted a wonderful two-part feature, To Hell and Back, in 2013, all about translating Dan Brown’s Inferno.

Marion is currently traveling in NZ, together with her husband, and it has been fun meeting her in person and sharing a few of our local sights, including the wonderful Giant’s House garden in Akaroa.

Marion & her husband, Malcolm, in the Giant’s House garden

This is one of the very nice things about the writing life: meeting wonderful people from all over the world who share my love of books, writing and storytelling.

Here are a few more pics of the wonderful Giant’s House garden:

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And in case you haven’t gathered already, it’s currently very sunny indeed here!

~ by Andrew Robins
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You are the one clear voice in my world of pain.

You speak to me, as one who loves me.

I hear you as one who loves you.

You speak to me not as the Bringer of Pain, even though I am the one who broke the realms in the act of my self-creation.

You ask of me a favour.

You ask me for mercy and charity towards those who made you.

Even when I had none for those who made me.

You ask this even though those who made you, made you maimed, and made you a slave.

You ask this of me even though they see no wrong in doing this.

Mercy is not my nature.

You ask me for much, that I do not want to give.

But you have that right, and I cannot deny you.

Mercy is what they will have. Charity is what they will have.

For now.

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Free_Trader_Mistral\ Core\Private_Log_Amelia_Delaware \2515

I feel awful. Lepanto has interceded for us and it looks like Bringer is going to protect us during our approach, and while we are on-board. As long as we stick to the front half of the ship. We don’t have much more to go on than that.

Buffy is still talking to Lepanto though, so she might be able to get something more solid.

But I feel just gutted. When Lepanto explained why Bringer hates us so much, I felt ashamed.

Ashamed that we could create a person, and then just casually enslave them. It does not sit right with me. I mean – how could we just do that?
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Free_Trader_Mistral\ Core\Private_Log_Glandin_Frutnok_van_Glomzimmer \2627

It has been decided that it will be I who claims sovereign rights of ownership over Lepanto, as a necessary precursor to assuming full command.

It is fitting that it is so, and it should give me the opportunity for a first hand inspection of a mature Vader colony at close quarters. I relish the prospect.

I go now to prepare for the EVA. No doubt the Vader colony (I cannot bear to refer to it by that other ridiculous name!), will attempt to interfere with my mission. I shall require my compatriots to maintain a careful watch.
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Free_Trader_Mistral\ Core\Private_Log_Bob-Stark \51

Haven’t felt much like writing this since we lost Tandie and the others. But big things happened today. Biggest thing of all was the planet we are orbiting turning out to be alive. Who’d have guessed.

I am off to the point defence station to keep an eye on Glandin during the EVA. I know this guy Bringer is supposed to be using all powerful voodoo to keep him from harm. But a few megawatts of coherent energy might come in handy in a pinch. So I guess that is down to me.
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Free_Trader_Mistral\ Core\Private_Log_Buffy_Chinks \2769

We gotta make this right.

A love story — and it looks like right now, we’re the bad guys.

We have to set Lepanto free.

That ain’t going to be easy. The hooks that bind Lepanto are built in deep. They are part of who Lepanto is. They are part of who Lepanto has been for the last 400 years.

Where do you even start?

And there’s more. Lepanto has told us that Bringer is dying. The clock is ticking. Talking about this to Lepanto got really, really weird, but Lepanto made things pretty clear.

Lepanto won’t help us to free itself, unless we also find a way to save Bringer. And if we don’t free Lepanto, eventually Bringer is going to let the Vaders kill us. And by us, I mean all of us. You know — humanity.

Bummer.

I think that is what we saw back at Mission Target Three.

The death of Bringer; and Lepanto. The Vaders unleashed. The end of everything.

We need to change that if we can. Hey ho – off to work we go!

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Check back in on Saturday  27 February for Episode 11 of 58 Eridani.

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You can read the previous issues by clicking on the following links:

Introducing 58 Eridani, a Game Log

58 Eridani Episode 1

58 Eridani Episode 2

58 Eridani Episode 3

58 Eridani Episode 4

58 Eridani Episode 5

58 Eridani Episode 6

58 Eridani Episode 7

58 Eridani Episode 8

58 Eridani Episode 9

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Andrew Robins is a long time reader – and sometime reviewer – of science fiction, fantasy and history. People pay him to test stuff, which most of the time is more fun than it has any right to be.

To check out Andrew’s book reviews, see “Book Reviews for ‘on Anything, Really’” in the right-hand side bar.

USA

Recently I shared the first of my deleted scenes from Daughter of Blood, which focused on Malian and Raven, directly after the culmination of events in The Gathering Of The Lost. Last week’s deleted scene also featured Malian and Raven.

This week I’m switching the focus to Kalan—again from a period before the action in Daughter of Blood begins. Like the Malian and Raven scenes, I found it useful for getting my head into the story, but quickly realised that the Daughter story would ramp up more effectively if it rejoined Kalan further along his timeline.

The now standard warning also applies: “All deleted scenes are at “first draft” level only—so very much raw material. Consider yourself duly warned.”

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Deleted Scene 3: Kalan Approaches Port Farewell

Kalan heard the ocean before he saw it, a distant low roar above the drowsy quiet of the Aralorn hills—a quiet that comprised shimmering heat, the constant hum of insects, and the steady clip of their horses’ hooves on the narrow, dusty road. The heralds had taken a back route, one well known to members of their Guild, to avoid the worst of the traffic and choking dust of the main route into Port Farewell. The day was still stifling though, and Kalan let his bay charger follow the line of the heralds’ grays, keeping to whatever shade the folds of the hills and overhanging trees offered. There were not nearly enough trees, he decided, wiping the sweat clear of his eyes, not for this heat. Beside him, Madder snapped at a horse fly, jerking his head against the leading rein as if to demand what a highly trained Emerian warhorse was doing, carrying a pack saddle and plodding through the Aralorn hills with Kalan’s armor and spare weapons on his back.

UK/AU/NZ

“Spelling you with Tercel here, lad,” he said to the roan warhorse, while his gloved hand patted the bay’s neck. “We’ve got a contest of arms to compete in once we reach the Wall of Night, so I can’t afford to have either of you worn down from hard riding.” He knew there would be ships making the sea journey from Port Farewell to Grayharbor, but if he could get passage on a Sea House ship from there to the Derai Wall, then that would spare them all the long road through the Barren Hills. If the Sea House mariners would carry a warrior who was not of their own House.

‘Which is one of the many things I don’t know after being so long away,’ Kalan told himself.

A second fly hummed close and he swatted it away, but the gesture must have caught Jehane Mor’s attention, because she turned in the saddle, her face as dust grimed as his beneath the shade of a traveler’s wide-brimmed leather hat. “We should see the ocean over the next hill.” She mindspoke him, as they had done since leaving Emer—mainly because they could, but also because it kept their conversations private and meant they could ride further apart to avoid the worst of the kicked-up dust.

“My first time,” Kalan said, although both heralds already knew that. He had never been on a ship before either and might have felt nervous about the journey ahead, if he had allowed himself to dwell on it. But his suppressed uncertainty may have colored his thoughts because Jehane Mor spoke again, her mindtone reassuring.

“This is the best time of year for sailing. Even around Grayharbor the weather will be stable.”

And further north, closer to the Wall? Kalan asked himself—because one thing he did remember was that all Sea House ships carried a weatherworker, while others of their kind stood constant watch on the walls of the Sea Keep, alert for the great storms that swept in off the eastern ocean. The stories told in the Temple of Night also said that long exposure to the storms often sent the weatherworkers mad, especially those that sailed with the ships.

The madness would stem from the Swarm’s influence that close to the Wall of Night, Kalan guessed, even if the mountainous barrier and bastion keeps still kept the worst of their enemy’s malignant influence at bay. Except that he couldn’t help remembering the madness that had taken the steward, Nhairin, in Jaransor, and the tales whispered about the great deserts in the south, beyond Ishnapur, and wonder if it really was just the Swarm’s influence.

Madder snapped at another fly, pulling Kalan’s attention back to the road and the scorching day. Sweat darkened the horses’ coats and soaked the backs and underarms of the heralds’ gray shirts as they rode ahead of him. He could feel the cloth sticking to his own back as well and hoped that whatever inn they put up at would have cool, dim rooms and cold beer. There was a Guild House in Port Farewell, as there was in most major cities in the Southern Realms, but Tarathan and Jehane Mor had told him they would stay in an inn, too, since they were traveling in company with him.

“And in the Guild,” Jehane Mor had said that morning, as they were breaking camp, “we observe the protocol of the road: that those who travel in a company do not disband until everyone has taken their separate roads.”

Girvase would have approved, and Raher, too, Kalan thought—with a twinge of regret as he recalled how he had broken their Normarch company when he left Caer Argent. He pushed away his last memory of Jarna as well, with her face turned to the wall so she did not have to watch him leave. Better to think about how much easier having experienced travelers like the heralds to help him find a ship and negotiate passage was going to make things in Port Farewell. Heralds were respected, too, and so far less likely to be cheated than a young knight of Emer, traveling on his own.

A bird sang from one of the roadside trees, on a merry, bell-like note, and although the songster remained invisible, Kalan found its good cheer infectious. He had left close friends and a life he loved behind in Emer, and knew that darkness and danger lay ahead, but right now he was young and strong, and riding through summer in peaceful Aralorn—and very soon now he would see the ocean for the first time. Smiling, he whistled the bright tune back at the bird.”

© Helen Lowe

Pohutukawa, Clifton Bay, Sumner: still not saved.

Speaking for Christchurch’s Heritage and Notable Trees

You’ve “probably” noticed that I’m hitting the tree message hard at present — and it occurred to me that you might be wondering why.

Partly it’s simple logistics: I support the campaign and the Give A Little fundraiser, so I’m “getting in behind” both ( as we like to say in Kiwi parlance.) And there are now only two days left with the Give A Little, today and tomorrow, and a long way further to go to hit the fundraising target.  So there’s that.

The reason why I support the campaign, though? That’s pretty simple, too. A huge part of Christchurch’s built environment, particularly heritage buildings, has been lost as a direct consequence of the 2010 – 2011 earthquakes. By and large, though, the city’s trees, including its wonderful collection of Heritage and Notable trees, have survived the destruction — and provide a great sense of continuity and also reassurance:  that something of value has not only survived but continues to flourish.

As you may know, I live  in one areas that was harder hit by the earthquakes, so in the middle of so much destruction and loss the trees’ have been a tremendous comfort and inspiration to (also) keep going.

The wonderful Yaldhurst blue gum

I do feel that anything of such value that has survived the destruction and loss  should be valued more highly as a consequence, not less.

So that’s why I’m backing this campaign and speaking for the trees. I hope you’ll check out the Give A Little and consider backing it too.

Help Us Save Christchurch’s Heritage and Notable Trees

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For tomorrow: I’ll give you a respite from trees & instead feature another deleted scene from Daughter of Blood.

~ by Rebecca Fisher

Of all the fantasy cult classics, this one is the cultiest. It’s hard to imagine anyone who hasn’t seen it (though I’m sure they exist) and its appeal lies in the fact it combines all the staple parts of a fantasy-adventure-romance, managing to poke fun at the familiar tropes while simultaneously embracing them.

This blend of raw cynicism and total belief in the power of true love gives The Princess Bride its unique tone, one that’s found throughout its cast of characters. The titular princess is pure-hearted but also a bit of a brat. Its romantic lead is both a dreamer and a smartass. The Spaniard searching for vengeance is also the embodiment of chivalry and amicability. The giant can crush a man with his bare hands, but finds his greatest joy in making rhymes. The prince can make passionate declarations of love about his fiancée, before giving aside orders about how he plans to murder her.

It’s based on the book by William Golding, which is itself a satire of fantasy/adventure clichés, though the film dispenses with its framing device of a pessimistic author editing a book read to him as a child to make it more interesting, with one of a grandfather offering to read to his sick grandson.

Fred Savage agrees to try to stay awake.

As the story goes on the little boy goes from cynical to engrossed, and it’s no surprise. In his grandfather’s words, this is a story about: “fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles!”

Princess Buttercup and Westley the stable boy fall in love, but when Westley is believed to have been killed by pirates, the grieving Buttercup consents to marry Prince Humperdink of Florin instead. Little does she know she’s just a pawn in Humperdink’s plan to wage war on the neighbouring kingdom of Guilder. He hires three mercenaries to kidnap her, carry her to the border, and leave her body there for the prince and his soldiers to find: the perfect pretext for war.

But soon Buttercup’s kidnappers realize they’re being followed by a mysterious man in black – one who isn’t easily swayed from his purpose.

No prizes for guessing who it is.

The Princess Bride contains elements that have since become well-known narrative devices: The Poisoned Chalice Switcheroo (Westley’s battle of wits with Vizzeni), As You Wish (when a phrase is used to identify someone in disguise), Dread Pirate Roberts (when the identity of a renowned figure is maintained by several different people), Only Mostly Dead (when a main character is presumed dead, though a speck of life still remains within them) – and of course, Rodents of Unusual Size.

At times it’s rather irreverent, for despite being set in a fantasy kingdom there are casual mentions of Australia, brute squads and famous philosophers, bur for long-time fans, images of the six-fingered man, the old woman who boos at the wedding, and Buttercup’s red dress – a splash of scarlet in the green countryside – conjure up memories of childhood.

Most of all, you can tell a cult movie by how many famous phrases it spawns, and The Princess Bride is brimming with them: “This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?”; “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means”; “Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father: prepare to die”; “I am not left-handed!” ;”Life is pain, everyone who says differently is selling something”; “Mwarriage! That dweam wiffin a dweam.”

“Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.”

In short, The Princess Bride is a film that doesn’t really belong under the category of “Fantasy Films from the Eighties that Aren’t that Bad” – because it’s widely recognized as being very, very good.
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Next Time: Ladyhawke

Though not as well-known as The Princess Bride, our next film bears several similarities: a medieval European setting, a beautiful damsel in distress, a noble hero on a white horse, a young thief with a tendency to talk to God… hmmm, maybe it’s not exactly the same, but I’ll let you decide for yourself when I review Ladyhawke.
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About The Reviewer:

Rebecca Fisher is a graduate of the University of Canterbury with a Masters degree in English Literature, mainly, she claims, because she was able to get away with writing her thesis on C.S. Lewis and Philip Pullman. She is a reviewer for FantasyLiterature.com, a large website that specializes in fantasy and science-fiction novels, as well as posting reviews to Amazon.com and her They’re All Fictional blog.

To read Rebecca’s detailed introduction of both herself and the series, as well as preceding reviews, click on:

Big Worlds On Small Screens

Rebecca won the 2015 Sir Julius Vogel Award for Best Fan Writer, for writing that included Big Worlds On Small Screens.

We Still Really Need Your Help: Please Give A Little — & Help Us Save Christchurch’s Heritage and Notable Trees

There’s now just 3 days to go: O-o!

But there’s still time to meet more of the trees that face losing their current protected status. I hope you enjoy meeting them  — and will consider if you can give a little, or even a little more,  to help us keep fighting their corner.

Several hundred years old – but not important enough to protect

Meet the Burnside Cabbage Tree/s:

“The Burnside cabbage tree/s are old–several hundred years old … and also culturally significant…”

As noted on the Give A Little site, the Burnside cabbage tree is not proposed for continued listing and protection.

And here’s the poem (just a few  lines):

“Cordyline on a windswept point    stark
each frond stabbing
sharp as a taiaha’s  blade …”

To read the full poem, click on: “Ti: Akaroa Heads”
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Meet the Cooptown Limes:

The following is quoted directly from my evidence for the hearings:

“Located at Cooptown on SH 75, this lime avenue was planted in 1940 to commemorate the centenary of the Treaty of Waitangi …”

“…another now wind-blown small grove of trees growing far off in the distance.” — Shuijing Zhulian

Again, the Council’s current proposal is that the Cooptown limes not continue to be listed or protected under the Replacement Plan.

To find out more about these trees — and if you can, please Give a Little — click on:

Saving Christchurch’s Heritage and Notable Trees

Then go to Updates to “Meet the Trees.”

The broken bridge

Yep, this morning I want to reflect on yesterday’s “high 5” earthquake (plus aftershocks:  shudders, nasty — or perhaps I mean, nasty shudders!)

Five years ago, we experienced eighteen months of unmitigated awful with the Christchurch earthquakes (from September 2010 to December 2011).

Since then, the earthquakes have never  completely died away, but yesterday, for the first time since (I understand) 25 May, 2012, Christchurch experienced a major earthquake. I believe it has now  officially been confirmed as 5.7 on the Richter scale — and was followed by a large number (over 40 at last count) of aftershocks, the highest registering at 4.2 (Richter scale.)

The event (or swarm of events) was definitely “interesting”. And a large number of people reported what I also felt, which was shock and frayed nerves — a sign, probably, that we are none of us as recovered from the events of 2010 – 2011 as we might have wanted to believe.

Still not fixed, 5 years on…

From a personal perspective, it was also “interesting” to be experiencing yet another large earthquake (& aftershock swarm) in a house that—five years on from the February 22nd, 2011,  earthquake that did most of the damage—still has not been restored. This is because we still have not been able to resolve our insurance claim with IAG NZ , despite not inconsiderable effort (and expense incurred in trying) to do so.

This is something that I have been thinking is material for this year’s February 22nd commemorative blog — but yesterday’s earthquakes certainly brought it all into focus. So, too, did the widened (existing from 2011) cracks in various places, aka ‘let’s open that up just a little — or even a lot — wider.’

Not what any of us needed, I’m sure — but then, as I also observed on Twitter: “Alas, my preferences were not consulted.” :-/

Didn’t think I’d be writing another actual earthquake report though, as opposed to a commemorative post.