Roll up, roll up

Look, I've written a review of Station Stories for Manchester Literature Festival. Having gone on and on and on about it for, like, ever, I thought it was only polite to go along and check it out. Tonight I go along again. It's just as well, because yesterday I was so awestruck by the project not to mention downright nosy and watching folk from various vantage points that a couple of times I somehow forgot to listen. Here, however, are some of the particular lines in the stories when I did pay attention and was duly rewarded...

David Gaffney: "dabbing cream onto her face, like pressing fingers into wet moss".


Jenn Ashworth: "you look like one of them".


Tom Fletcher: "Neuromancer ... 'each rang in turn, but only once, as he passed'".


Peter Wild: "hair like Barbara Stanwyck".


Tom Jenks: "Styrofoam".


Nicholas Royle: "your mam makes me soup now like my mam did".

Nicholas Royle made Guy Garvey cry. Guy Garvey crying. Imagine.


Thanks to Conrad Williams for sharing his ace images. Go and see him at Waterstone's tomorrow from 2pm.

Altered images

Yesterday evening saw the pretty much packed launch of new art show Reflexive Landscapes & Cutting Machines by Bruce Thompson at the Beggars Bush bar on Beech Road in Chorlton. Before we go any further, I'd better come clean: Bruce is my friend and lodger. He feeds my cats and I don't want to get on the wrong side of him.

Nonetheless, I show no bias when I advise you to check out the exhibition over the next month or so. Treat yourself to a drink while you're there. Go on. Here's the exhibition poster, influenced by Bruce's interest in decorative screens:


The works on display, however, are each an image in themselves and the show encompasses two series Bruce has been working on over the last few years. I was already familiar with Reflexive Landscapes, a colourful, dynamic oeuvre (did I just say "oeuvre"? Ha!), with more than a few sci-fi threads. The pieces from the Cutting Machines series, however, were new to me, and I really enjoyed their pared-down compositions, subtle cream and garlic pink shades, and rich textures.

Bruce has studied both art and architecture, and was working on very fine airbrush automatic abstract paintings when I first met him a number of years ago. In his latest work, he reconsiders these spontaneous pieces by rendering them using a computer-based 3D modelling package, and adding more colour, light and depth. This second stage is then further transformed by manipulating points of view and fragmenting and recombining elements of the original canvas to produce a totally new image.

Says Bruce: "This body of work is concerned with the unconscious mind in relation to space and perception, expressed through art and architecture. The work can be viewed as a departure point from painting and a move towards a cybernetic, pataphysical and alchemical world."

Unsure what pataphysics are, I consulted Wikipedia and discovered that it's a pseudophilosophy that parodies modern science often through the use of nonsensical language. Well, if it's good enough for Bruce and French author Raymond Queneau, it's good enough for me...

Science friction

Unbelievably, Sci-Fi Book Club has been on the boil for a year. Unbelievably, after a year, Sci-Fi Book Club appears to have gone somewhat off the boil. My spy rocked up to last night's meet, and was only one among four, which a lesser, more lazy commentator might take as indicative of the failure of society as a whole.

Or perhaps they could blame it on post-Christmas depression, the cold and dark, or folk being skint. But! - I would argue - the group's first-ever get-together was a snow-bound 5 January 2010 (as described on this very blog here), so I don't buy it.

Maybe it was down to this month's reading material, the rather-more-fantasy-than-sci-fi Swiftly by Adam Roberts (it sounded shit, which put me off, and the author sounded like he was obsessed with shit, which I don't suppose helped anyone else much either). But! - I would say - the reading list is decided by the members, so how can they vote on a book then turn their back on it in such a way?


Now, I like Sci-Fi Book Club. It has a hashtag (#mcrsf), a Google Group and a logo (above); it's free and it has forged links with the city's library service and orders in the books so you don't even have to buy any books; it takes place within the relaxing environs of the inimitable Madlab. You can even bring beer, dammit, and the collected troops order in some scrummy pizza to keep those energy levels up. I like Sci-Fi Book Club. I have read some of the novels and joined in some of the discussions. I have met some interesting people as a result of being a Sci-Fi Book Clubber; I have even made some new friends.

I don't want Sci-Fi Book Club to go by the wayside, so this is a rallying call! Sci-Fi Book Clubbers past, present and future - where are you all? Go to the next meet-up (Tuesday 15 February, 7pm); decide on a new bunch of books to read - books that people who read sci-fi actually want to read! I don't know, how about Isaac Asimov, Philip K Dick, Greg Bear, even John Wyndham...

Come on, guys, let's mobilise!

Science fiction

Last night I went to see Fritz Lang's 1927 crazy futuristic sci-fi silent movie Metropolis at the Cornerhouse. I was very excited about this as: a) I haven't seen the film for nearly 20 years as it never seems to get shown (that first time was in no less than the hugely imposing Palais de Chaillot, opposite the Eiffel Tower, yes in Paris, in a special bunker-like screening room; something, I think, to do with La Cinémathèque française); 2) I thought I'd missed it this time as when I was due to go last week I was feeling poorly and pathetic, and I thought it was only going to be on during Manchester Science Festival (23-31 October); iii) it's a scrubbed-up print with new footage they (whoever "they" are) found in Buenos Aires, of all places. Then I got very very excited because I noticed on the ticket while chowing down on my scrummy three-bean and preserved lemon tagine that it was on Screen 1. Oh man.


It didn't disappoint. Dystopia. Modernism. Maschinenmensch (great word; love German). Flappers. Art Deco. Brave New World meets The Great Gatsby tipping a wink to Alphaville and 1984 mixed with Bladerunner and The Fifth Element sprinkled with Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom and even Back To The Future. Oh, and let's not forget Frankenstein and even a bit of scary shadowplay à la Nosferatu.


It was good. And it made me think of that show at the Whitworth Art Gallery a year ago, The American Scene: Prints From Hopper To Pollock. Compare the lithograph New York by Louis Lozowick from 1925, below, to the stills and poster from Metropolis, above. Credit for the film artwork and sets goes to Erich Kettelhut, who was apparently art director, set designer, trick photography (special effects), painting effects (visual effects) and technical consultant. But still, similar, non?

Spec savers

Launching tomorrow night is the Speculative Fiction Writing Group. I'm still not sure if it's "speculative" because attendees will merely be discussing the possibility of setting up a monthly writers' group (ie the Fiction Writing Group is speculative) or because the Writing Group will be a launchpad for works of speculative fiction. I'm guessing it's both. Nice ambiguity.


Anyway, if you fancy turning your hand to creative writing with a sci-fi, horror or fantasy slant, hotfoot it down to Northern Quarter hack space Madlab for 7pm to lodge your interest and get your name in the unstoppable Kate "Manchizzle" Feld's little black book. Beginners or experienced writers are welcome.

(Jelly dinosaur by The Natural Confectionery Co. Roooooar. Yum.)

Neuromantic gesture

Last night I popped along to the monthly Sci-fi Book Club at Manchester's Madlab. Under the microscope was William Gibson's first novel, Neuromancer, heralded as being the most famous early "cyperpunk" works. Everyone had been really excited about reading this one, but I have to admit that it eventually mainly left me cold, with too many significant moments that were tricky to follow, didn't tie up properly or were plain discarded almost as soon as they had been typed. Some became clearer after returning to sections and going through them again and others made a bit more sense after reading round the subject (which I did once I'd finished the book, so as not to spoil the fun); it could be that it was the language that I found confusing rather than the concepts.


Neuromancer isn't all bad, and has more than a few nods to Philip K Dick, who I like. Here are some: 1). The controlling AI Wintermute takes its name from Dick's novel VALIS. 2). The opening sequences in the future noir underworld of Chiba City, Japan, have resonance with Deckard's dystopian dirty downtown LA in Bladerunner, which we all know is adapted from Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? 3). The Panther Moderns' hi-tech camouflage suits are similar to the scramble suit in Dick's A Scanner Darkly, as is the paranoia, and the drug addiction, plus...

Next up for the reading group is Ursula K Le Guin's The Left Hand Of Darkness , apparently one of the first works of feminist science fiction. (The next meeting is on Tuesday 18 May at 7pm.)

We've also decided on the second batch of books for the reading list; Term 2, if you like. There will be more about this in my upcoming guest blog spot on The Manchester Lit List, which I'll crack on with now if you'll just give me half a chance.

ADDENDUM 28/04/10: I'm busily squirrelling away at the aforementioned Lit List piece and have been having a shufty round t'internet, where I found fellow Madlabber Dave Hartley's new post on the last meet.

A moment of friction

(See what I just did there? The addition of one small letter from the last post I wrote. Cunning.)

That last post of which I speak was all about literary zines and groups who accept contributions. This one is about a "collaborative storytelling venture" of the graphic variety, Fractal Friction. I'll keep it brief, so you can go off and check it out for yourselves. FF currently has a merry band of six artists on board and each week publishes a page to a "comic book" artworked by one of the six. This week will see page 17 uploaded, so you can safely assume that the project has been running for 17 weeks. Anyway, submissions are invited - "we want to open it up to others, and there will be guest slots available", says the blog - just bung them an email to fractal.friction@googlemail.com if you're up for the challenge.


The page here (quite Howl's Moving Castle, I don't mind saying) is by Conor Boyle, through whom I found out about this Staedtler pen foray. Conor once had the loathsome task of being my next-door neighbour, adept at being polite at my pathetic attempts to see straight enough to manoeuvre a PlayStation handset. Poor Conor was also the mild-mannered janitor to a stinking fat cat and the lucky recipient of my prized pianoforte, which took a whole half a day and four grown people to push across the hall from one flat to the other. Mr B has quite a penchant for les bandes desinees, so if you check out his blogging profile at Pencilmonkeymagic, you'll find a ripe collection of links to other illustrators of both similar and also rather different works.

Load of Ballards

Last night was the third meeting (my first) of the Sci-Fi Book Club at Northern Quarter-based community hack space Madlab. About 21 people (two-thirds, perhaps not surprisingly, of the male variety) collected to critique The Drowned World by JG Ballard (aye, him out of Empire Of The Sun).


In initial pre-discussion discussion, most gathered were pretty vocal about how much they disliked the text; so much so, that volunteers to act as stand-in advocate were unforthcoming until one brave lady stepped forward to meet the challenge. Still, even she looked relieved when Omar eventually did make an entrance, complete with 14 salient points and questions already prepped to give the discourse some kind of structure.

Once the debate got underway, many of the naysayers suddenly switched sides and put forward reasons for backing the book, but overall the reception still wasn't that shiny. We chit-chatted about the prose (I thought it was way too bogged down in superfluous adjectives, overly-complicated vocabulary and messy, meandering sentence structures; others described it as "beautiful"), characterisation (or lack thereof), themes, and categorisation, rightly or wrongly, as science fiction.


Following a quick nosebag break (Mighty Meaty versus Vegi Volcano) and sideline natter about the chilli sauce left over from Interesting Monday, we were all asked to think positive and say one thing we each liked about The Drowned World.


I liked the work's premise - I thought the gradual destruction of the Earth as sea levels rise following the melting of the icecaps would have resonance in the context of global warming. That thought was about as far as it got. As the book clubbers all agreed, there are plenty of ideas that Ballard introduces, some with the promise of developing into quite a catchy storyline, but most dwindle off into the overwhelming drabness of the heat haze. The picture of murky lagoons, tropical plants, giant bugs and threatening lizards is vivid and all-encompassing, and it seems to be at the expense of anything else. Perhaps that's the point, we wondered, but even words like post-apolocalptic and dystopian that usually work for this kind of narrative don't find a place here.

----
The next book on the reading list is William Gibson's Neuromancer; according to Wikipedia , the most famous early cyberpunk novel. I hope it's less wet than The Drowned World, and more inspiring than Keanu Reeves (someone mentioned that Johnny Mnemonic is based on it). Homework also includes Clifford Simak's Skirmish from the short story collection A Science Fiction Omnibus (Penguin, ed Brian Aldiss). The next meeting is Tuesday 20 April; in the meantime keep on top of things via the Google group or Twitter, using the hashtag #mcrsf

ADDENDUM 18/03/10
Here's the Madlab blog of the evening (complete with attractive photo of the group); here's fellow newbie Helen's take on proceedings.

ADDENDUM 13/04/10
Resident Sci-fi Book Club intellectual Adrian Slatcher gives his well-educated verdict on the book (which he picked, incidentally) on his blog The Art Of Fiction.

The great uncloched

There's a house I sometimes wander past Whalley Range way, and come winter I am always delighted to see that the green-fingered soul who lives there protects his or her alpines with a number of cloches. The rockery looks like a mini Moonbase Alpha and it never fails to make me smile. (This garden cloche, or bell jar, as they call it - although I would argue that's something taller and usually involves taxidermy or Sylvia Plath - is available at Hippy Shopper, BTW. I would presume you have to grow the courgettes yourself, however.)


I'm quite a fan of cloches, actually. I don't have any in my garden (perhaps that's why there have been a number of fatalities out there this year; not least a rare pale pink fuchsia grown by my mum from a cutting she pinched off a plant at Powys Castle or some such fancy-pants place), although I do have a mini greenhouse of which I'm quite proud (I put it together myself from an Ikea flatpack, and even varnished it to protect the dowling from the elements).


Cloches seem quite attractive in their simplicity and old-fashionedness. I also like cloches over food - they always manage to make cakes look even nicer, if that were at all possible. I've got a big blue wire cloche-type bit of kitchen paraphernalia to keep bluebottles and black cats at bay. It's quite successful, if a little cumbersome.


Cloche hats are another favourite of mine, being a big fan of 1920s style (I have a bob, don't I? Just because I don't dress the whole flapper hog every day makes me no less of a fan). I once went to a party as Coco Chanel and wore a cloche hat. Looked a treat, although I'm not sure Gabrielle accessorised with a can of Red Stripe.

The word "cloche" (pronounced closh) comes from the French for bell. More cloche definitions are available here.

Science is golden

You know I like to be honest with you guys, so here it is: my name is Words & Fixtures and I'm a secret geek. There, it's been said. It may have been said before, I'm not sure, but now it's definitely out there. It's out there, it's out of my hands. It's in the big wide world and the vastness of the ether.

I admit it: I'm a bit of a geek and I like sci-fi; mainly films, but also TV, and sometimes even books.

Anyway, it seems I'm not alone in the universe. And to prove it, a melange of Manchester social media luvvies have only gone and set up a Sci-Fi Book Club, founding members of which courageously battled their way through snowstorms to inaugurate yesterday evening. I have to admit I didn't actually put in an appearance myself, but I did send a representative to report back on proceedings. Seems proceedings went well. A bunch of "15 or so" likely candidates met at Madlab (aka Manchester Digital Laboratory), discussed a possible reading list, worked out a date for the next get-together, then decamped over the road to Common, which it strikes me is not uncommon if you are a Madlabber.

Anyway, hop on board, join the ride, get on over to the Oxfam bookshop and let the crazy reading party being! The initial book list is below and the next fixture (when first tome The Forever War will be under discussion) is Tuesday 16 February (more here):

The Forever War by Joe Haldeman
The Drowned World by J. G. Ballard
Neuromancer by William Gibson
The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

...plus, in case discussion dries up, or Common runs out of Star (whichever comes first), it has been decided everyone should also have a wee shufty at A Science Fiction Omnibus, a collection of short stories edited by Brian Aldiss and including Isaac Asimov's 1941 classic Nightfall. Maybe I'll see you some time in the future...