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more flying book club
Aug. 30th, 2004 09:48 pmOnce upon a time, I had what I thought of as frequent business trips. (Other people define "frequent business trips" differently.) I wore jeans and work boots, and sometimes a hideously ugly oversized parka I had found on sale one summer. I would spend a week in some isolated place, either putting various fire protective materials on small walls, or setting them on fire. I did this once every month or two.
One Friday afternoon in late summer, back in 1999 or 2000, my "regular" flight home was cancelled. The weather was humid and threatening enough to almost make my ears pop, like it is now (though not so hot.) That's how I found myself sitting at the bar of a tiny little airport coffee shop, with a tuna melt, Her Smoke Rose Up Forever and a staggering quantity of sweet tea. The stranger sitting next to me asked for the ketchup, and I passed it without looking up. The story had grabbed me. I might be IN Burned Barn, Nebraska, for all practical purposes. But I wasn't going to be paying attention to it for a few minutes. When I looked up at the end of the story, stunned to tears, there was a little old lady on the next barstool watching me. (Maybe 5 feet tall, 100 lbs, but probably less. Maybe 65, but probably more. Wearing what my mother used to call a pantsuit. Not like a business suit. It had purple flowers.)
She asked what I was reading. While the first few stories had impressed me quite a bit, I knew that Tiptree wrote with uneven skill, and even the best of it is not to all tastes. So I didn't rhapsodize at length, but just displayed the cover and said it was a book of short stories.
"Oh, really? What kind of stories?"
(I let that opening go by.) "Science fiction. Some fantasy." She continued to look interested while I paused. "A lot of it includes some fairly provocative social commentary. Some of the stories are a little clumsy, but others are just amazing."
She told me she also liked science fiction, though she hadn't read any Tiptree. As a Christian, she was especially interested in in books with social commentary. She recommended the Left Behind series, which she considered a superb example of sf worldbuilding, and which she was enjoying enormously. At the time, I knew almost nothing of those books. I had seen one on a library shelf, tripped over the prose on a random page, and put it back. Her enthusiasm was contagious. It mattered that I was talking with someone who cared about reading, cared about sf-worldbuilding, cared about her faith (but wasn't trying to push it on me). I was stuck in that airport for the rest of that afternoon, and it turned out to be a very good afternoon.
More recently, I've looked at the Left Behind books a little more closely. I've read Fred Clark's commentary on the first few chapters. Now I know this series gives me the creeps. Now, if I were talking to someone who seriously cared about this series, I'd have to wonder if she was completely clueless, or if she were knowingly buying into the authors' creepiness. When I saw the books only through her eyes (and she was almost a stranger), I could say things like, "Oh, so you prefer fantasy with Christian themes? Have you ever read Gillian Bradshaw?" She hadn't at the time, but I hope she found some. I think Beacon at Alexandria or Island of Ghosts might have pushed some good buttons. And I told her about Bujold The Spirit Ring, before it occured to me to mention Madeline L'Engle. She hadn't read it yet, but she wanted to...really, really, wanted to.
I remember her kindness and good will, and the excitement of talking to her, even more than her (somewhat unsettling) taste in books. Of course, it's extraordinary to run into a stranger in an airport by chance, and end up having a worthwhile conversation about books. As it happens, I'm going to be in Logan Airport this coming Thursday evening (first day of Worldcon), and again Monday evening (after Worldcon.) Would any strangers traveling then like to stop for a glass of iced tea and a conversation about books?
One Friday afternoon in late summer, back in 1999 or 2000, my "regular" flight home was cancelled. The weather was humid and threatening enough to almost make my ears pop, like it is now (though not so hot.) That's how I found myself sitting at the bar of a tiny little airport coffee shop, with a tuna melt, Her Smoke Rose Up Forever and a staggering quantity of sweet tea. The stranger sitting next to me asked for the ketchup, and I passed it without looking up. The story had grabbed me. I might be IN Burned Barn, Nebraska, for all practical purposes. But I wasn't going to be paying attention to it for a few minutes. When I looked up at the end of the story, stunned to tears, there was a little old lady on the next barstool watching me. (Maybe 5 feet tall, 100 lbs, but probably less. Maybe 65, but probably more. Wearing what my mother used to call a pantsuit. Not like a business suit. It had purple flowers.)
She asked what I was reading. While the first few stories had impressed me quite a bit, I knew that Tiptree wrote with uneven skill, and even the best of it is not to all tastes. So I didn't rhapsodize at length, but just displayed the cover and said it was a book of short stories.
"Oh, really? What kind of stories?"
(I let that opening go by.) "Science fiction. Some fantasy." She continued to look interested while I paused. "A lot of it includes some fairly provocative social commentary. Some of the stories are a little clumsy, but others are just amazing."
She told me she also liked science fiction, though she hadn't read any Tiptree. As a Christian, she was especially interested in in books with social commentary. She recommended the Left Behind series, which she considered a superb example of sf worldbuilding, and which she was enjoying enormously. At the time, I knew almost nothing of those books. I had seen one on a library shelf, tripped over the prose on a random page, and put it back. Her enthusiasm was contagious. It mattered that I was talking with someone who cared about reading, cared about sf-worldbuilding, cared about her faith (but wasn't trying to push it on me). I was stuck in that airport for the rest of that afternoon, and it turned out to be a very good afternoon.
More recently, I've looked at the Left Behind books a little more closely. I've read Fred Clark's commentary on the first few chapters. Now I know this series gives me the creeps. Now, if I were talking to someone who seriously cared about this series, I'd have to wonder if she was completely clueless, or if she were knowingly buying into the authors' creepiness. When I saw the books only through her eyes (and she was almost a stranger), I could say things like, "Oh, so you prefer fantasy with Christian themes? Have you ever read Gillian Bradshaw?" She hadn't at the time, but I hope she found some. I think Beacon at Alexandria or Island of Ghosts might have pushed some good buttons. And I told her about Bujold The Spirit Ring, before it occured to me to mention Madeline L'Engle. She hadn't read it yet, but she wanted to...really, really, wanted to.
I remember her kindness and good will, and the excitement of talking to her, even more than her (somewhat unsettling) taste in books. Of course, it's extraordinary to run into a stranger in an airport by chance, and end up having a worthwhile conversation about books. As it happens, I'm going to be in Logan Airport this coming Thursday evening (first day of Worldcon), and again Monday evening (after Worldcon.) Would any strangers traveling then like to stop for a glass of iced tea and a conversation about books?
