Sarah Kanning

This afternoon I heard more hand-wringing from yet another commentator (this one an author, Eric Weiner, on NPR) about the demise of paper books and the rise of electronic editions. Here’s an excerpt:

I’m confident that I’ll still get my fair share from each e-book sold. But as an author, I’m not after your money. Well, not only your money. I have my sights on a much more precious commodity: your time. We enter into an unspoken pact, you and I: Give me a few hours, stolen moments on the subway or after the kids are asleep, and I promise to inform and entertain you. Frankly, that’s always been a tough sell, given the sundry ways you can spend your time, but at least I had a fighting chance. Curled up with a pinot noir and my book, your attention was mine to lose. Not anymore. The new generation of e-books will, in essence, merge the laptop and the book. Now if my narrative starts to drag, or I digress, readers can click onto their favorite news site to see what’s up with health care, or click onto TMZ to see what’s up with Brangelina. How do I compete with that?

Is this a reasonable worry? How much time do most normal people spend curled up with a pinot noir (or in my case, decaf coffee or  maybe a good pale ale) and a book these days?

Well, as a matter of fact, I read a whole book uninterrupted just last night, a debut YA fantasy novel from a cracking good writer and storyteller, Malinda Lo (the book is Ash, and I highly recommend it). I read it in print, a hard copy edition that I borrowed from the library.

I’m also in the middle of reading SHE by H. Rider Haggard on my iPod touch. It’s a bit of a pain to keep flipping “pages” on that tiny screen, but when I’m waiting in a doctor’s office or yes, even when I’m in bed before I turn the light out, it’s very convenient. I got that book free, too, from Project Gutenberg.

Here’s the thing: I read at least one or two books every week, and I live in a two bedroom apartment with three large bookcases that are already full. Up to this point, I’ve had what amounts to a one-in, one-out rule for book purchases. (Ash is quite possibly good enough to qualify for a purchase–but I have to decide what I’m getting rid of. Back issues of Tin House, I’m looking at you.) With this fun new device and a downloaded app or two, however, I can exponentially expand my collection of books without running the risk of being featured on that hoarders show.

Here’s what that means to those in the publishing industry: I’m the customer you can get back with e-books, if you play your cards right. Also, an e-book (like that pale ale?) is not a purchase for me, it’s a rental, so please price it accordingly. If I have the choice between paying a buck or two to get instant access to a book I’m interested in reading, or waiting a few weeks (or months) to get it through the local library, that’s something I’d be willing to pay for. If the e-book in question is $10 or $20, well…there are plenty of fish in the sea, and a lot of other books I can get right now and read while I wait for the library’s copy.

Here’s what it means to authors: if you want me to buy your book in hard copy, it has to be one I will fall head over heels in love with and want to live with at least as long as a typical marriage lasts these days. But even if I don’t want to marry your book, I might not mind a fling (electronic, of course). Your chances are better if you make the first few chapters of your book available online, free. Consider it a first date. (Herman Melville, you had me at “Call me Ismael.”)

Today Subterranean Press published “The Bohemian Astrobleme” by Kage Baker. It’s set in the steampunkish world of The Women of Nell Gwynne’s (also from Subterranean), and features a certain Lady Beatrice…

Subterranean Press » Fiction: The Bohemian Astrobleme by Kage Baker.

Good stuff!

This is also a good time to send out positive cosmic whirlies (and maybe a card or email?) to the author, who unfortunately is seriously ill. I’ve been an avid reader of Kage Baker’s Company books and am sad to hear it.

Some archaeologists now believe that humans learned how to brew beer before they learned to bake bread, and that our ancestors’ desire for alcoholic beverages helped encourage them to develop agriculture.

This falls under the category of “not quite news,” since various scientists and historians have reported on our species’ long history with alcohol, BUT it’s relevant to me at the moment because of my current project, a novel set in a culture similar to some of those that sprang up in ancient Mesopotamia (the Sumerians, the Babylonians, and the Akkadians). Date beer in particular shows up fairly often, with the occasional appearance of mead and wine.

The article linked below highlights several reasons why a desire for alcohol could have helped fuel agriculture and taken us down our current path of civilization, including the pharmacological effects, but the author leaves out three I think may have been pretty significant:

1. Unsafe water. Alcohol kills germs, and alcoholic beverages would have been safer to drink in many cases than water.

2. More protein. The process of brewing increases the amount of protein in beer, which would have been important when other protein sources were relatively scarce and hard to get.

3. Thriftiness. Some alcoholic brews are made from things people can’t eat anyway (or don’t want to), like grape stems (grappa) and crushed or overripe fruit (cider). Also, without refrigeration or canning equipment, our forebears used fermentation to preserve extra food (along with drying and pickling) – not just for beer and wine, but for yogurt and cheese (which is a different type of fermentation, of course!).

Did a thirst for beer spark civilization? – Features, Archaeology – The Independent.

This one goes out to everyone who longs to write (or read) a good sword-and-sorcery tale, because without the sword, it’s just not the same — and if you don’t know swords, you’re liable to make a gaffe or two along the way.

The Book of Swords by Hank Reinhardt came out earlier this year; it was edited and published posthumously by Reinhardt’s wife, Toni Weisskopf Reinhardt. The book is fantastic, and makes me sorry I’ll never have a chance to meet its author.

Reinhardt steers the reader through the history of the sword, throwing in some metallurgy, archaeology, poetry, and applied research as needed along the way. The focus is on how these weapons were used in combat and how they were adapted over time to changing technology (i.e., the discoveries of iron and then steel), battle conditions, and societal conditions. Each chapter ends with suggestions for further reading, most from Reinhardt himself.

Whenever possible, Reinhardt tried out reproduction blades himself and described the results (sacrificing innumerable pork shoulder roasts in the process) — what kinds of wounds different swords made; how well they penetrated chain mail; which were good for cutting, thrusting, or both. He also takes time to discuss armor and other weapons used against swordsmen to give readers a clearer context for how swords were used. Finally, he discusses the differences between the sport of fencing and sword combat, and dispels a few myths and excessive liberties taken with the facts, perpetrated by the movies and other popular sources.

It’s an interesting topic, and Reinhardt made it a delightful read, full of quirky asides and the kinds of details writers find eminently useful. If the story you are writing has a sword in it, you should read this book.

Find this book at a nearby library or purchase it.

Here’s a great place to start: 50 Strategies For Making Yourself Work, courtesy of Jerry Oltion and the folks at SFWA.

I appreciated this list because, like the author, I find that any productivity strategy that works for me does not work forever — the work-avoidance part of my brain is far too clever for that.