Rick Kleffel has Harlan Ellison’s one-man WorldCon panel on tape. Kleffel assures that it will offend everyone, but it seems rather tame and a bit sad and solipsistic to this listener’s ears. If desperate screaming into the mike is the height of hilarity, then I’m sure you’ll dig it. But the pathetic nature of Mr. Saturday Night comes to mind.
[UPDATE: Gwenda notes that Ellison groped Connie Willis without her permission at the Hugos. More here. A class act, Harlan, if this is true.]
The Call by Yannick Murphy: The always interesting author of Here They Come and Signed, Mata Hari returns with a novel that whips up a worldview from a rather quirky set of limitations: namely, the call logs that a veterinarian maintains as his son is unexpectedly put into a coma and an unforgiving economy denies him work. What emerges is a surprisingly optimistic, often funny, and very moving account on how one family uses acceptance and forgiveness as a way to atone for hard knocks. (Bat Segundo interview with Murphy)
Birds of Paradise by Diana Abu-Jaber: Forget Franzen and Eugenides. If you're looking for a social novel that counts, Diana Abu-Jaber is the author you're looking for. Building from the free-form exploration of consciousness and identity in Crescent and the gripping procedural structure of Origin, Abu-Jaber's latest novel is her finest, equally fluent with gutterpunk culture and smarmy real estate men. It has been suggested by The Washington Post's Ron Charles that you will likely gain some pounds while reading this novel. This is certainly true. Abu-Jaber's description of food is so precise that it often made me want to do more cooking. But I very much admired the way in which Abu-Jaber presents all her characters as unwitting victims of rough capitalism, which permits them some dignity even as they perform terrible acts.
The Last of the Live Nude Girls by Sheila McClear: This memoir isn't so much about the decline of the Times Square peepshow, as it is about one young woman's efforts to pull herself up by by her bootstraps when presented with few economic options. Filled with self-introspective candor and a quiet dignity, McClear's story is one that might befall any of us in these volatile times. While McClear does get back on her feet, her book leads one contemplating the terrible fates of other young women now moving to New York and falling into deadlier vocations. (Bat Segundo interview with McClear)
Harlan,
Not sure if this will reach you, but anyway … why not try? Talking with Dona, yr name came up – among others, admittedly – and wanted to acknowledge that I think yr story, Martians Go Home a marvelous tour de farce. Minus, of course, the afterword, or whatever the f… you called it. It’s been a long time since last I read it, so please excuse the faulty memory. Did actually purchase the movie version, only to find that it was defective and of no value whatsoever. That is, unrecoverable. Ah, well. Anway, Dona gave me a snail mail address for you – tried it, but, once again, faulty memory, or somesuch. Still and all, love your work. Hope to hear from you sometime. Best regards. – William
Harlan, true to form….
The field is still filled with the typical industry ASS-KISSERS AND SYCOPHANTS, so he’ll ultimately get a pass….
After all, he’s done worse.
I’ve posted this elsewhere, in one form or another, but here’s a little “Harlaniana” for you.
Ray Palmer, undeserving target of Harlan Ellison’s meanness for many years, is laughing somewhere.
Ellison has largely made himself a pseudo-celebrity by his outrageous actions. As many older writers and fans remember (but do they DARE to speak?) Ellison intentionally recruited fans to harass and ridicule an aging and already crippled Palmer at SCIFI Conventions in the 60s and early 70s (cornering him in an elevator and causing him to fall and hurt himself, in one instance), intentionally distorted and took out of context what the man said, and did everything he could to ruin him. Palmer, of course, was the one-time editor of Amazing Stories who started the whole “Shaver Mystery” rolling. In addition to being a legendary force in early scifi and fantasy publishing, he was a kind-hearted gent who loved the fans and also committed the Harlan-ordained ’sin’ of having an interest in exploring the paranormal, UFOs, and other strange phenomena.
Yep, Palmer is laughing somewhere, and given Ellison’s history, it’s probably a lot more pleasant somewhere than Harlan will end up–despite all the ass-kissing from pros and fans alike.
Despicable, but everyone pretends not to remember, and kisses his ass.
-Bubba