Portmanteau Words, Reviews of Anthologies, and a Scapekite
This time I review a collection of unrelated stories by the same author, an anthology of stories by various authors, and an unconventional novel that is actually a collection of stories in itself.
But first, a shameless self-promo (concerning another anthology) and some neologisms.
The Self-Promo:
My story “The Scapekite” drops this week in a book called “Iron Walls: A Burning Embers Dystopian Anthology”. It’s a fantastical tale about a totalitarian corporation, camouflaged robots, and a (not?) chance encounter between the narrator and an old man with a kite and an imagination. I’ve done a couple of interviews about the story, here and here.
Portmanteau Words
The idea of a “scapekite” is of course something I made up, as is the word itself, from the words “scapegoat” and “kite”; a portmanteau word, like “smog” and “bridezilla”, packed with more than one meaning.
A GAME WITH PORTMANTEAU WORDS: Which word doesn’t belong in this list, and why?
a. absinthminded
b. mimsy
c. Scandinavery
d. welluminated
(answer at the end of this post)
In my own novel “Ussers and the Echo of Nothing”, I have a couple of portmanteaus, easily (I hope) interpretable: brilluminated (brilliantly illuminated) and eighther (the eighth one in a series). I’ve also thought of calling politicians on playing “whataboutery”: stalling by continuously saying “What about ___” so everything tangles up in a mess of contingencies and nothing gets done. The following are some portmanteaus that I’ve made up for the fun of it:
Impostrophe: One of those “impossible” (or “imposter”) apostrophe’s (like that one) that people use for plural’s (oops, another one) and possessive pronouns.
Concrastinate: (The first syllable rhymes with “on”, not “un”.) Pro and con are opposites, so to concrastinate is the opposite of to procrastinate: it means to insist that anything that needs to be done, needs to be done immediately.
A: Could you put these dishes in the dishwasher, please?
B: Could it wait a few minutes? Right now I’m having a heart attack, the house is falling down, the baby is eating nightshade and the dog is on fire.
A: Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said to put the dishes in the dishwasher right this second.
B: You’re such a concrastinator.
Miscontangulated: All tangled up in exactly the wrong way. Often used to describe electronic cords and cables.
Rouse: Singular of “rice”.
Optigone: (Sounds like “optigon”.) A kind of optical illusion; something you see or observe but then it’s gone.
Gloobonastic: Describing the consistency of a viscous substance such as catsup as it “gloobs” out of a squeezable plastic bottle. (The word is made from “gloob”, the sound described, and “nastic”, a variation on “nasty”. It ignores the botanical meaning of “nastic”.) If this word sounds singularly unpleasant or even vaguely obscene, you’re right. It is.
Bozoid: 1. Clownlike. 2. Describing someone who concrastinates, or who uses impostrophes.
Neologisms and Longspeak
Portmanteau words are a type of neo-logo-ism, or neologism: a made-up word. Of course all words are made up at some point, but some authors and poets go to great lengths (and are particular geniuses at) making up new ones. I’d put Lewis Carroll, James Joyce, and Dr. Seuss in that category.
An aside. Portmanteau words are short and pithy, but there are forms of neologisms that do the opposite: expand words to absurd lengths. One could argue that the whole idea of conlanging belongs in this category. Also, some authors and poets have something that I call, in a sort of anti-Orwellian homage, “longspeak”: lengthened, zany remixes of words that have no precise meaning and are made simply for the silliness of it. My own version includes these absurdities: “probably” is rendered as “prob-k’bob-k’bayobob-k’bayo-baw-bubbita-blubby” (and therefore “possibly” is poss-k’boss-k’bayoboss-k’bayo-baw-bussita-blubby”). The “shuffle” button on my car stereo causes me, almost every time, to recite the following paragraph of nonsense in an obnoxious nasal voice: Shuffa-la-faw, luffa-la-faw, shuffa-luffa-la-faw, faira-faw, fiffery-faw, fuffa-duffa-lee-uffuffa-faw, fuffa-luffle. Yes, I say that exactly the same way every time, though I sometimes stutter on the “fuffa-luffle”. Why ask why?
Book Reviews
Okay, if you managed to slog through all of that siddle-liddle-lah-lilliness (Longspeak for “silliness”), here are the book reviews I promised.
Seven Wonders of a Once and Future World and other Stories
by Caroline M. Yoachim
These are absolutely original speculative worlds. Many are based on a single phrase or common expression, turned into an unexpected story; some reference other imaginary worlds as diverse as The Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy, Narnia, Hans Christian Andersen, and Lovecraft (the racism of the latter is dealt with head-on). All are extremely visual. Some of my favorites include: children in an orphanage negotiating a treaty with the monsters under their beds and in their closets; a question of what would happen if we all could design our own bodies (and out of what material); a feudal world in a sketchbook that literally paints itself into existence along a time loop; frightening parasitic brain cells that live in alien organisms (including humans) and serve the "Omnitude"; and a couple of comical tales with hilarious twist endings. Fascinating stories, all -- but the reader is advised that along with beautiful and whimsical images, there are many grotesque and horrifying scenes that (because of the author's superb visual descriptions) are difficult to get out of one's mind.
Zion’s Fiction
edited by Sheldon Teitelbaum and Emanuel Lottem
Despite the pun in the title, not all of this is science fiction. Many sub-genres of speculative literature are represented here, including: dystopian future ("The Slows"), apocalyptic fiction ("A Good Place for the Night"), fantasy ("The Perfect Girl"), dark fantasy, which often includes religious commentary ("Death in Jerusalem", "The Believers"), classic sci-fi ("Burn Alexandria"), monsters ("The Stern-Gerlach Mice"), alternate realities ("White Curtain"), cyberpunk ("Two Minutes too Early"), lots of horror ("In the Mirror", "They Had to Move", "A Man's Dream" -- the latter, a riff on Ursula K. Le Guin's "Lathe of Heaven", has one of the most startling and disturbing Twilight Zone endings I've ever encountered), and even a sci-fi take on absurdist tragicomedy, with hints of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy ("My Crappy Autumn"). There is an emphasis on mental states affecting reality in unexpected ways, though I don't know if this is a preoccupation in Israeli fiction or merely reflects the choices of the editor. Many of the stories are too creative to fit neatly into a single category. Here and there, some of the wording seems a little awkward, perhaps due to translation, but most of the narratives are exciting or interesting, or both. The extended introduction talks about how these forms of literature have interacted with modern Israeli society through its (admittedly short) history, and how the modern State of Israel itself was based on a speculative idea -- again, referenced in the title. Kudos also to the artist(s) who designed the stone monument on the back cover, which has "Science Fiction in Israel" inscribed in English, Hebrew, Arabic, Klingon, and LOTR Elvish.
Ka: Dar Oakley in the Ruin of Ymr
by John Crowley
This is a strange, discordant book. In some ways it's a variation on a common fantasy trope: "There is another world out there, very near to ours". Usually such a half-veiled shadow-world is inhabited by creatures from folklore: elves, fairies, trolls -- but it might as well be rabbits (as in Richard Adams' "Watership Down") or, in this case, crows. (That the author's name is Crowley is probably a coincidence, especially since it's pronounced like "crowd-ly" without the "D".) The book unfolds at a leisurely pace, exploring imagined aspects of the crows' culture and world, known as Ka (several imagined conventions of crow narrative are explained early on), and there is more than a touch of the macabre because of their association with scavenging and carrion. These grim elements link Ka to the world of humans (Ymr), and therein lies much of the book's discord as Ka, Ymir, and the shamanic spirit world (later a Medieval version of hell) interact through centuries of history. Dar Oakley, like a phoenix, makes the journey to the land of the dead and then is reborn, many times. This is not so much a novel as a collection of stories (including some familiar myths retold from a crow's perspective), framed by a metanarrative that is in itself about stories. Crowley's prose throughout is luminous, mythic, and dreamlike, suited to the subject, and I was continuously surprised by how well the conversations and actual thought processes of crows (of course unknowable to humans) seem realistically drawn. But those disturbing elements remain, particularly in the startling and melancholy conclusion: there is a similarity here to an incident in Crowley's "Little, Big" (he seems interested in monstrous children) but I won't give any more spoilers.
The End for Now
So, that concludes this post. I have another story coming out at the end of the month in another anthology, so there will probably be another post soon.
Answer to the puzzle: B, mimsy (not because it’s shorter, but because it’s from “Through the Looking Glass” by Lewis Carroll and the others are from “Finnegans Wake” by James Joyce.)
The Self-Promo:
My story “The Scapekite” drops this week in a book called “Iron Walls: A Burning Embers Dystopian Anthology”. It’s a fantastical tale about a totalitarian corporation, camouflaged robots, and a (not?) chance encounter between the narrator and an old man with a kite and an imagination. I’ve done a couple of interviews about the story, here and here.
Portmanteau Words
The idea of a “scapekite” is of course something I made up, as is the word itself, from the words “scapegoat” and “kite”; a portmanteau word, like “smog” and “bridezilla”, packed with more than one meaning.
A GAME WITH PORTMANTEAU WORDS: Which word doesn’t belong in this list, and why?
a. absinthminded
b. mimsy
c. Scandinavery
d. welluminated
(answer at the end of this post)
In my own novel “Ussers and the Echo of Nothing”, I have a couple of portmanteaus, easily (I hope) interpretable: brilluminated (brilliantly illuminated) and eighther (the eighth one in a series). I’ve also thought of calling politicians on playing “whataboutery”: stalling by continuously saying “What about ___” so everything tangles up in a mess of contingencies and nothing gets done. The following are some portmanteaus that I’ve made up for the fun of it:
Impostrophe: One of those “impossible” (or “imposter”) apostrophe’s (like that one) that people use for plural’s (oops, another one) and possessive pronouns.
Concrastinate: (The first syllable rhymes with “on”, not “un”.) Pro and con are opposites, so to concrastinate is the opposite of to procrastinate: it means to insist that anything that needs to be done, needs to be done immediately.
A: Could you put these dishes in the dishwasher, please?
B: Could it wait a few minutes? Right now I’m having a heart attack, the house is falling down, the baby is eating nightshade and the dog is on fire.
A: Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said to put the dishes in the dishwasher right this second.
B: You’re such a concrastinator.
Miscontangulated: All tangled up in exactly the wrong way. Often used to describe electronic cords and cables.
Rouse: Singular of “rice”.
Optigone: (Sounds like “optigon”.) A kind of optical illusion; something you see or observe but then it’s gone.
Gloobonastic: Describing the consistency of a viscous substance such as catsup as it “gloobs” out of a squeezable plastic bottle. (The word is made from “gloob”, the sound described, and “nastic”, a variation on “nasty”. It ignores the botanical meaning of “nastic”.) If this word sounds singularly unpleasant or even vaguely obscene, you’re right. It is.
Bozoid: 1. Clownlike. 2. Describing someone who concrastinates, or who uses impostrophes.
Neologisms and Longspeak
Portmanteau words are a type of neo-logo-ism, or neologism: a made-up word. Of course all words are made up at some point, but some authors and poets go to great lengths (and are particular geniuses at) making up new ones. I’d put Lewis Carroll, James Joyce, and Dr. Seuss in that category.
An aside. Portmanteau words are short and pithy, but there are forms of neologisms that do the opposite: expand words to absurd lengths. One could argue that the whole idea of conlanging belongs in this category. Also, some authors and poets have something that I call, in a sort of anti-Orwellian homage, “longspeak”: lengthened, zany remixes of words that have no precise meaning and are made simply for the silliness of it. My own version includes these absurdities: “probably” is rendered as “prob-k’bob-k’bayobob-k’bayo-baw-bubbita-blubby” (and therefore “possibly” is poss-k’boss-k’bayoboss-k’bayo-baw-bussita-blubby”). The “shuffle” button on my car stereo causes me, almost every time, to recite the following paragraph of nonsense in an obnoxious nasal voice: Shuffa-la-faw, luffa-la-faw, shuffa-luffa-la-faw, faira-faw, fiffery-faw, fuffa-duffa-lee-uffuffa-faw, fuffa-luffle. Yes, I say that exactly the same way every time, though I sometimes stutter on the “fuffa-luffle”. Why ask why?
Book Reviews
Okay, if you managed to slog through all of that siddle-liddle-lah-lilliness (Longspeak for “silliness”), here are the book reviews I promised.
Seven Wonders of a Once and Future World and other Stories
by Caroline M. Yoachim
These are absolutely original speculative worlds. Many are based on a single phrase or common expression, turned into an unexpected story; some reference other imaginary worlds as diverse as The Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy, Narnia, Hans Christian Andersen, and Lovecraft (the racism of the latter is dealt with head-on). All are extremely visual. Some of my favorites include: children in an orphanage negotiating a treaty with the monsters under their beds and in their closets; a question of what would happen if we all could design our own bodies (and out of what material); a feudal world in a sketchbook that literally paints itself into existence along a time loop; frightening parasitic brain cells that live in alien organisms (including humans) and serve the "Omnitude"; and a couple of comical tales with hilarious twist endings. Fascinating stories, all -- but the reader is advised that along with beautiful and whimsical images, there are many grotesque and horrifying scenes that (because of the author's superb visual descriptions) are difficult to get out of one's mind.
Zion’s Fiction
edited by Sheldon Teitelbaum and Emanuel Lottem
Despite the pun in the title, not all of this is science fiction. Many sub-genres of speculative literature are represented here, including: dystopian future ("The Slows"), apocalyptic fiction ("A Good Place for the Night"), fantasy ("The Perfect Girl"), dark fantasy, which often includes religious commentary ("Death in Jerusalem", "The Believers"), classic sci-fi ("Burn Alexandria"), monsters ("The Stern-Gerlach Mice"), alternate realities ("White Curtain"), cyberpunk ("Two Minutes too Early"), lots of horror ("In the Mirror", "They Had to Move", "A Man's Dream" -- the latter, a riff on Ursula K. Le Guin's "Lathe of Heaven", has one of the most startling and disturbing Twilight Zone endings I've ever encountered), and even a sci-fi take on absurdist tragicomedy, with hints of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy ("My Crappy Autumn"). There is an emphasis on mental states affecting reality in unexpected ways, though I don't know if this is a preoccupation in Israeli fiction or merely reflects the choices of the editor. Many of the stories are too creative to fit neatly into a single category. Here and there, some of the wording seems a little awkward, perhaps due to translation, but most of the narratives are exciting or interesting, or both. The extended introduction talks about how these forms of literature have interacted with modern Israeli society through its (admittedly short) history, and how the modern State of Israel itself was based on a speculative idea -- again, referenced in the title. Kudos also to the artist(s) who designed the stone monument on the back cover, which has "Science Fiction in Israel" inscribed in English, Hebrew, Arabic, Klingon, and LOTR Elvish.
Ka: Dar Oakley in the Ruin of Ymr
by John Crowley
This is a strange, discordant book. In some ways it's a variation on a common fantasy trope: "There is another world out there, very near to ours". Usually such a half-veiled shadow-world is inhabited by creatures from folklore: elves, fairies, trolls -- but it might as well be rabbits (as in Richard Adams' "Watership Down") or, in this case, crows. (That the author's name is Crowley is probably a coincidence, especially since it's pronounced like "crowd-ly" without the "D".) The book unfolds at a leisurely pace, exploring imagined aspects of the crows' culture and world, known as Ka (several imagined conventions of crow narrative are explained early on), and there is more than a touch of the macabre because of their association with scavenging and carrion. These grim elements link Ka to the world of humans (Ymr), and therein lies much of the book's discord as Ka, Ymir, and the shamanic spirit world (later a Medieval version of hell) interact through centuries of history. Dar Oakley, like a phoenix, makes the journey to the land of the dead and then is reborn, many times. This is not so much a novel as a collection of stories (including some familiar myths retold from a crow's perspective), framed by a metanarrative that is in itself about stories. Crowley's prose throughout is luminous, mythic, and dreamlike, suited to the subject, and I was continuously surprised by how well the conversations and actual thought processes of crows (of course unknowable to humans) seem realistically drawn. But those disturbing elements remain, particularly in the startling and melancholy conclusion: there is a similarity here to an incident in Crowley's "Little, Big" (he seems interested in monstrous children) but I won't give any more spoilers.
The End for Now
So, that concludes this post. I have another story coming out at the end of the month in another anthology, so there will probably be another post soon.
Answer to the puzzle: B, mimsy (not because it’s shorter, but because it’s from “Through the Looking Glass” by Lewis Carroll and the others are from “Finnegans Wake” by James Joyce.)
Comments
Post a Comment