About Alyx Dellamonica

Alyx Dellamonica lives in Toronto, Ontario, with their wife, author Kelly Robson. They write fiction, poetry, and sometimes plays, both as A.M. Dellamonica and L.X. Beckett. A long-time creative writing teacher and coach, they now work at the UofT writing science articles and other content for the Department of Chemistry. They identify as queer, nonbinary, autistic, Nerdfighter, and BTS Army.

Kay Kenyon drills down in The Heroine Question

Kay Kenyon picKay Kenyon’s latest novels are the fantasies Queen of the Deep, about an enchanted ship, both a colossal steam vessel and a Renaissance kingdom; and A Thousand Perfect Things,about a Victorian woman’s bid for forbidden powers in an altered India of magic. Her science fiction quartet, The Entire and the Rose, was hailed by The Washington Post as “A splendid fantasy quest as compelling as anything by Stephen R. Donaldson, Philip Jose Farmer or yes, J. R. R. Tolkien.”

Her novel Bright of the Sky was among Publishers Weekly’s top 150 books of 2007. Other of her SF works were nominated for the Philip K. Dick Award and the John W. Campbell award. A founding member of the Write on the River conference in Wenatchee, Washington, she is currently working on a paranormal historical mystery.

Is there a literary heroine on whom you imprinted as a child? A first love, a person you wanted to become as an adult, a heroic girl or woman you pretended to be on the playground at recess?

The earliest fictional stars in my universe were male. Most of the exciting books, whether mysteries or action adventure, were told from the male viewpoint. I think this is one reason I got a late start in feminism: my beloved books had few role models for girls.

(That, and a complicated childhood, where “what do you want to be” was a reach too far for a kid who just wanted to handle the day-to-day.)

This all changed when Dune came out. OK, Paul Atreides. Fine. But the rock stars were the Bene Gesserit. I was no longer a child, but as a young woman I was drilling down into science fiction and becoming enthralled with the sense that the lid was off of confining realities. Other planets, other beings, other value systems. As Dune peeled back layer after layer of the Bene Gesserit, I was smitten.

How did they capture your affections and your imagination so strongly?

Oh boy, where to begin. I loved their quiet, scary strength–and that it didn’t come from innate powers, but from acquired abilities. You could be trained. The key to their power was a frightening intelligence derived from spiritual/mystical disciplines; that appealed immensely. Here was a realm where women could really compete. And they were successful as a group as well as individually: a matriarchy that engaged with geo politics over thousands of years. And what was their reception by the male-dominated world?

They were feared by everyone, derided by many who called them witches or weirding women. And look at the power of the older members of the order, those who became Reverend Mothers. Yet, if you were young and beautiful you could use sex as a power and no one would dare call you a bitch. And by their lights, they were guiding humanity along a path, so there was a vision and a cause to believe in.

How does this compare to the female characters in your work? Are the Bene Gesserit their literary ancestors?

My tribute to the Bene Gesserit came in my fifth book, Maximum Ice, a Philip K. Dick-nominated novel. The Ice Nuns: powerful, tapping into the quasi-crystal Ice of the altered Earth, their version of melange. And in my quartet, The Entire and the Rose, I may have found a subconscious literary inspiration here for Cixi: ancient, supremely political, feared by even the aliens who hold sway, she is the supreme head of the Magisterium.

How do you feel about the word heroine? In these posts, I am specifically looking for female authors’ female influences, whether those women they looked up to were other writers or Anne of Green Gables. Does the word heroine have a purpose that isn’t served by equally well by hero?

For a long time the language has been dropping diminuitive forms of nouns that specify female. (Few people would use “aviatrix” for example.) Eventually “heroine” may pass from use as well. Most people don’t use the word to indicate a female example of a major character except to create a topic-specific, useful category. As you did in this series.

(Otherwise you might have said female protagonist, but that’s a mouthful.) As long as it’s useful in particular contexts it doesn’t bother me.


 

About this post: The Heroine Question is my name for a series of short interviews with female writers about their favorite characters and literary influences. Clicking the link will allow you to browse all the other interviews, with awesome people like Louise Marley, Juliet McKenna, Alex Bledsoe, and Kelly Robson. If you prefer something more in the way of an actual index, it’s here.

Telewitterings: Chickly stuff, now with more chick

cranford memeNow that the Canadian Federal election is, at long last, over, I feel a need to start a few frivolous conversations. I want to talk about persimmons and weird things I overhear on the street and my cats (still supercute, in case you’re curious) and, of course, television.

As Kelly and I embark on what I think is our second rewatch of Cranford, I want to make sure you all know there are some badass women-driven TV shows happening. I’m not merely talking about Agent Carter–you’ve probably all seen what Peggy’s been getting up to lately. I’m talking about mostly British stuff. Take Scott and Bailey, whose fourth season has been nothing short of mind-blowing. There’s The Crimson Field, Happy Valley, and Bletchley Circle and Call the Midwife. They’re crime shows, war shows, nurse shows. They’re about women pursuing complicated professions and leading complicated lives, and getting all up in each other’s business as they do. Sometimes they help each other. Sometimes they hinder like you would not believe. These babes Bechdel all over the place, if you get what I’m saying.

If you’re missing out, well… you’re missing out.

Nano Nano, Nyah Nyah

alyx babyRight after I turned in The Nature of a Pirate Kelly and I had a vacation, followed by a lot of out of town company. I’ve spent much of the time since then considering a possible Nanowrimo project, mostly because I was feeling the need for a bit of a mental kickstart while I waited for notes on that third Sophie book.

I wasn’t sure cranking out a draft in November was the best idea ever, though the book (tentatively titled Exposure) has some definite cool things. But we’re on the road in November, headed to the World Fantasy Convention in Saratoga Springs–I’ll post my schedule soon! I’ll be in the lucky position soon of having to do promotion for A Daughter of No Nation. And my nano drafts tend to be shambling, unlovely things, studded with wonders, blood and miracles, but a lot of work to beat into shape.

The other recent project was pulling together a grant application to do just that, polish up a book set in the same universe as the newly outlined yet purely theoretical Exposure. It’s called The After People, and it has an excellent beginning, one chained like a plow horse to a somewhat mud-spattered middle and end. I’ve wanted to set aside time to clean up AP for awhile, but Stormwrack things have, of course, been more important. Writing a trilogy while lunging across the country, it turns out, is something of a long haul.

Anyway, my somewhat cursory records seemed to show that I had sent out a grant application for AP in the spring, but I was sure that couldn’t be right. There was no rejection in my files, for one thing, and anyway I didn’t remember applying. Remembering is something I apparently can’t be bothered to do anymore if I think the information is somewhere in my sent e-mail archive. So I hauled my nicely polished beginning and attendant paperwork off to the slowest copyshop ever, to watch teams of monk-scribes scratch out every page by hand (all while taking union-mandated coffee breaks and indulging in quick bouts of Gregorian chanting) and from there I schlepped the whole thing off to not one but two post offices, because the one near the house was experiencing technical difficulties.

Then, coming home from the further-away post office and having finished precisely that errand, I opened my mailbox… and found a grant cheque from the Ontario Arts Council. For The After People.

This means I did apply in May–go me! It also means that if I’m going to insist on forgetting every act I commit as soon as I hit SEND on it, I should at least trust my electronic records. On the other hand, it created an incredibly cool illusion: to mail something and then receive the answer, to have it waiting for you at home before the package has even hit a sorting station? Very cool.

More importantly, though, it means: WHEEEEEEE!!! Thank you, Ontario Arts Council!!

Finally, it means I can allot some serious time to turning the shambling 30K-word back end of AP into something twice as long and actually worth reading.

Needless to say, I am very pleased.

Louise Marley sings the Heroines into Battle

The Child Goddess Full cover.inddLouise Marley, a former concert and opera singer, is the award-winning author of eighteen novels of fantasy, science fiction, and historical fiction.  She holds the world record for most concise author bio ever, probably because she was spending her time writing utterly remarkable things like the hair-raising The Terrorists of Irustan, or The Child Goddess, whose cover is pictured here. For more, see www.louisemarley.com.

I asked her, as I do: Is there a literary heroine on whom you imprinted as a child? A first love, a person you wanted to become as an adult, a heroic girl or woman you pretended to be on the playground at recess? Who was she?

The first heroine I identified with, at the age of about 8, was Jane, in Edward Eager’s enchanting novel Half Magic.  Jane was like me, the oldest of a passel of kids, in a family with no father and a mother who was often away working.  Jane, with her siblings, had to figure out why their wishes were coming half true, and how to get around that. Jane had to manage the younger ones in her family, and save them–and occasionally her mom–when the half-magic coin got them into trouble.   I was fairly well convinced magic was real, and kept dreaming up ways it might be available to me.

Can you remember what it was she did or what qualities she had that captured your affections and your imagination so strongly?

Her courage and leadership were subtle, but appealing to a kid who also had to manage younger kids and try to juggle the practical with the imaginative.  I loved the magic of it all, and wondered if I would have been able to solve the mystery of the magical coin myself.

How does she compare to the female characters in your work? Is she their literary ancestor? Do they rebel against all she stands for? What might your creations owe her?

I can’t say that Jane has inspired my female characters, I’m afraid, much as I loved her.  My characters tend to be larger than life, heroic in the classical sense, and sometimes operatic.  Of course, Jane was a kid–will always be a kid.  In my as-yet-unpublished middle-grade sf novel, the protagonist is a girl who solves problems with science, and it could be that she has things in common with Jane, though she’s a bit older.  The one thing Jane shares with my heroines would be the conviction that there is an answer, somewhere, just waiting to be found.

Bonus round: How do you feel about the word heroine? In these posts, I am specifically looking for female authors’ female influences, whether those women they looked up to were other writers or Anne of Green Gables. Does the word heroine have a purpose that isn’t served by equally well by hero?

I love the word heroine, and I love the other feminine forms of words–actress, authoress, murderess, and so forth.  I hate the title “Ms.” and would much prefer to be called “Miss” as a generic honorific, the way opera singers are.  Vive la difference, in my mind.  I celebrate the feminine!

Bonus bonus:  Once I discovered Superman, and then Supergirl, only the fact that I had reached a more advanced age–nine or so–stopped me from running around in a red cape.  I thought Supergirl was the luckiest creature in the entire world. Talk about larger than life!  I used to study those stories, and write in to the magazine if I thought there was an error.


About this post: The Heroine Question is my name for a series of short interviews with female writers about their favorite characters and literary influences. Clicking the link will allow you to browse all the other interviews, with awesome people like Leah Bobet, Alex Bledsoe, Marie Brennan, and Juliet McKenna. Or, if you prefer something more in the way of an actual index, it’s here.

Weekend of Thanks and Voting to #HeaveSteve

write memeAdvance polls are open, Canadians! Whatever the outcome of the upcoming election, I am grateful to have periodic chances to at least try to give my corrupt, racist, hatemongering, anti-science Federal government the big ol’ Heave Ho, and I hope you are too. If you’re from some other country, and my usual lack of engagement with current news stories is one of those things that you like about this blog… well, you can be thankful that it’s almost over. We’ll be resuming our usual mix of art talk, writing essays, random babble about coffee, photographs of the cats, book-related links and Life of Alyx again soon.

I am not exactly sure when I shall advance vote. I’ve blown today’s chance, I think, as I’ll be haring off to do some things with a Kelly and a friend shortly. This weekend promises to be action packed, alternating more (fun) haring with bursts of writing. We both of us want to lay down some words over the next few days.

On a completely other topic and in case you missed it–I am running a contest all month where you can post this link about the Goodreads givaway on Twitter or Facebook, tagging me so I see it, and I’ll enter you for a copy of ​Child of a Hidden Sea.