What is steampunk?
To me, the question is simple. Steampunk is fiction inspired by the Victorian era (generally featuring steam technology) – and by “inspired by” I mean it is always deliberately anachronistic (especially in the area of fantastical tech). It is used to cover clockpunk (same thing, but pre-Victorian, when clock technology was the wonder of the age), and dieselpunk (post-Victorian, with lots of diesel tech especially zeppelins).
Here is an article on someone else’s take – featuring lots of great quotes. I’ve included this one because I agree with it:
Steampunk simply embodies a time and a place. The time… the late 19th century. The place… a steam powered world, where air travel by fantastical dirigibles is as common as traveling by train or boat (or submarine). A place where national interests are vastly different than our own version of history. A place where the elegant and refined are as likely to get pulled into a grand adventure, as the workers, ruffians, and lower classes. A place where the idea of space travel is not so far fetched. A place where lost civilizations are found and lost again. A place where anything is possible, and science can be twisted to meet ones own ends. That to me is the essence of Steampunk. It can have political overtones and commentary, or it can be straight escapist fiction. Either way, if it meets these criteria. It is Steampunk.
:-Joshua A. Pfeiffer a.k.a. Vernian Process
And here for your delectation is a slightly clockpunk (yes the clock is real, the entire table was made by hand, and it works) photo of my cat:
How not to begin your book
Here and here are two articles on book openings that are way, WAY overdone. Ooh! And here‘s another.
I’m guilty of a prologue or two, and the very first book of my children’s trilogy opens with the character waking up. But none of my characters ever, ever look in a mirror and describe what they see. Ugh!
And here’s a pretty (perturbed) kitty for this week:
Suspicious Baby
I’m not a baby person, but I do enjoy a “Yes, and?” look from a tiny person.
This little girl belongs to a friend of mine, who already knows she and Mini-Me are destined to be best friends.
“My Family and other Animals” by Gerald Durrell
As fiction, this book would be hilarious but too riotously fun and absurd to be believable. Since it is the autobiographical account of the Durrell family’s five years in the mad Greek island of Corfu, it is just a brilliantly funny book.
Gerald was around ten years old at the time, and obsessed with all creatures – snakes, scorpions, magpies, dogs, beetles, geckos, trap-door spiders – everything. It was an obsession that remained – you may have heard of his wildlife preserves and/or documentaries.
The peculiar characters of the island (and, more importantly, of the Durrell family) are brilliantly realised in all their glory.
Rating: G
It’s very difficult to describe the book, so I’ll just give you a glimpse and let you see for yourselves. This takes place on a dull afternoon when the entire family was ill except Larry (a WRITER), who was feeling morose. . .
At length, glancing moodily round the room, he decided to attack Mother, as being the obvious cause of the trouble.
“Why do we stand this bloody climate?” he asked suddenly, making a gesture to the rain-distorted window. “Look at it! And come to that, look at us. . . Margo swollen up like a plate of scarlet porridge. . . Leslie wandering around with fourteen fathoms of cotton wool in each ear. . . Gerry sounds as though he’s had a cleft palate from birth. . . And look at you: you’re looking more decrepit and hag-ridden every day.”
Mother peered over the top of a large volume entitled Easy Recipes From Rajputana.
“Indeed I’m not,” she said indignantly.
“You ARE,” Larry insisted; “you’re beginning to look like an Irish washerwoman. . . and your family looks like a series of illustrations from a medical encyclopedia.”
Mother could think of no really crushing reply to this, so she contented herself with a glare before retreating once more behind her book.
“What we need is sunshine,” Larry continued; “don’t you agree, Les? . . . Les? . . . LES!”
Leslie unravelled a large quantity of cotton-wool from one ear.
“What d’you say?” he asked.
“There you are!” said Larry, turning triumphantly to Mother, “it’s become a major operation to hold a conversation with him. I ask you, what a position to be in! One brother can’t hear what you say, and the other one can’t be understood. Really, it’s time something was done. I can’t be expected to produce deathless prose in an atmosphere of gloom and eucalyptus.”
“Yes, dear,” said Mother vaguely.
“What we all need,” said Larry, getting into his stride again, “is SUNSHINE. . . a country where we can GROW.”
“Yes, dear, that would be nice,” agreed Mother, not really listening.
Mini Big Nose
Still very sick. The last time I had a non-nauseous moment was Sunday, and my ability to eat food isn’t improving at all. I did a little research on ondansetron (Ondaz Zydis) and discovered there are no known issues with taking it during pregnancy (the crucial word being “known” – it has been tested on animals, but of course you can’t test these things on humans). I’ll probably start taking it again tonight.
Here are my predictions about Mini-Me’s future:
Big nose (both sides of the family, several generations)
Intelligent (both sides of the family, several generations)
Uncoordinated (both sides of the family)
Introvert (both sides of the family, and all the grandparents)
Vulnerable to cancer (CJ’s side) and mental illness/dementia (my side).
Will be born with either dark hair (my side) or white-blonde hair (CJ’s side), and will probably have blue or green eyes.
YA steampunk: The Sky Village
“The Sky Village” by Monk & Nigel Ashland
It hurts my brain trying to figure out if I love or hate this book. The front cover and the title location – a village of hot air balloons strung together – appear steampunk, but it’s not steampunk. It’s post-apocalyptic YA.
The rest of this review is at Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
Aaaand. . . how about you?
So what did you guys do with youselves on the weekend?
The female mad scientist
Here‘s an article outlining the history – fictional and otherwise – of the female mad scientist.
And here’s the cat picture I forgot to post yesterday (she’s lurking because she’s hunting mice):
Yell for Cadel
I’m breaking with my usual tradition of linking you to writing tips each Saturday, but it’ll be back next week.
Here‘s a cracked article on the Tour de France. Most of it doesn’t apply to Australia, because our commentators are refreshingly respectful and classy, and tend to actually talk about what’s happening in the race. #1, however, is utterly and frighteningly true. This article is PG/M (the site is often MA or more), and has a picture of a man in a mankini. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Stage 18 (I’m yet to watch 19) was seriously epic. I’ve spoken before about attacks, when one man races ahead of the pack. Most of the time they fail, especially if the attacker is a big name – no-one will let them get away. But they’re also the only way for the big names to break away and get ahead, so they happen a lot towards the end of each stage of the race. They’re utterly exhausting for everyone, especially the attacker, who has to pull sudden strength out of nowhere – and abandon the aerodynamic cooperation of the pack if he actually succeeds.
In Stage 18, Andy Schleck (who came second last year – by 23 seconds) launched an attack. . . fifty kilometres before the end of the race. It was an insane move, and surprised everyone so much that he got away. He rode with inhuman speed past THREE other smaller (non-threatening but startled) groups, pausing only to work with two team-mates who had been sent out ahead in deliberate preparation. His largely solo journey lasted over an hour – 9% of it uphill. In the Alps.
At one point, he was FOUR MINUTES ahead of the pack, and the virtual leader (after beginning the day in fourth place) of the entire Tour. He then went and won the stage, proving that the most outrageous gambles sometimes pay off.
Meanwhile, the pack slowly realised they were screwed – Andy really was going to win the entire stage on his own, and possibly the Tour de France as well. Unfortunately, despite attempts to share the load, they were simply too exhausted to catch up (ie when twenty men attempted to work together to match the speed of Andy Schleck – they failed). Finally Cadel Evans accepted that he was the only one with any strength left, and for the last 11 kilometres he bore the entire weight of the group, and slowly chipped seconds away from Andy. He singlehandedly cut Andy’s advantage in half, keeping himself as a contender for first place.
When Cadel pulled out all the stops and rode his desperate mano a mano race, more and more champions dropped off the back – including Alberto Contador (last year’s winner). One of the tiny handful that remained was Thomas Voeckler, who was meant to barely survive the intense mountain stages.
Instead, on the second last mountain stage of the Tour, he managed to keep up with Cadel – and thus keep the yellow jersey for one last excruciating day. By fifteen seconds.
And thus Stage 18 had three winners.
Australian steampunk novel
“Ichabod Hart and the Lighthouse Mystery” by James Roy
This book was written as children’s Australian steampunk, and it ticks a lot of boxes.
The rest of this review has been moved to Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
Felicity Banks 