"Honor From Ashes" and drunken baggage handlers

I want this to be one of the best bits I've written. There's a bit more at stake here than there is with my usual book reviews. And that makes me flinch a little, because I don't believe life is fair, and yet I'm trying to MAKE a situation fair by writing about it. I'm hoping that in the execution of this blog, plus the accompanying Amazon review, I will even the scales for an author; just a bit.

Let me get the drunken baggage handlers out of the way first, shall I?

Unless all your travels have been by your personally owned vehicle, at some point you have handed over your luggage to someone else for safekeeping. Happens at airports, bus stations, train depots, and on the dock of a cruise ship. In exchange for your baggage, you get a little ticket, or a few little tickets, and then your bag goes away. You are no longer in control of what happens to it.

At the end of your journey, you go to claim your baggage. If all goes well, you are out of the station quickly, and off to the place you want to be, with everything you need. That's ONE possible outcome...

...and there are SO many other possibilities! Your luggage might be shipped to Ft. Wayne. Your luggage might be left back at your boarding point. Your luggage might have been diverted, broken open, and looted. It doesn't HAVE to be a function of human error or malice, so my reference to drunken baggage handlers in the title may be a bit over the top; however, if you are stuck in Frankfurt without any clean underwear, you don't really WHY it happened, do you? You just want your items returned.

Here's a parenthetical visual image for you, coming from my own experience: a mountain consisting of hundreds of identical olive-drab duffle bags, with the identification stenciled on in black ink, indistinguishable except at close range. Only had to go through that ONCE, on my deployment to Germany, but it's got to be experienced to be appreciated. I googled for a picture, but all I found were WWII pictures of the 10th Mountain Division returning, and they used light-colored chalk marker to ID those duffle bags easily. How is it that in the quarter century between their return to the States and my arrival at Rhein-Main, we lost the technology of a yellow piece of chalk?

Usually, there are bright and cheerful customer service representatives (depending on the hour) who will commiserate, hand you the forms to complete, and assure you that they will do everything they can to re-unite you with your lost possessions. And you have no alternative but to accept your copy of the form, and toddle off to your hotel/home/whatever, and dream of a fresh, clean, white t-shirt, which, in most cases, does arrive within a short time. (Not always. I have had the unpleasant experience of having my luggage looted, although all they got was my electric shaver.)

But: the customer service reps are not the people who handle yer luggage, bless their hearts. They are merely the people who are responsible for: 1) Keeping you from being so angry at the freight handling that you do economic damage to the company, and 2) Telling someone to find yer luggage and get it to you. They do not find yer luggage, they do not fly yer plane; nor yet do they plump yer pillow and put a bit of chocolate on it so you will have sweet dreams. They do Task #1 and THEN Task #2. They are called 'Customer Service Reps' because the job title 'Company Failure Apologists' didn't receive high numbers at a board meeting. But that's what they are.

So, what does this have to do with a book, specifically with the book "Honor From Ashes" by Sam Schall / Amanda Green?

Well, it's like this: 'Honor From Ashes' is the long awaited third installment in the 'Honor and Duty' series. It was available on pre-order, and I grabbed it up then, mostly because I wasn't paying attention, and was looking forward to it being available on April 18.

But a bad thing happened.

Instead of the third volume appearing when you clicked the icon, the SECOND volume appeared. And it didn't really seem to matter WHAT you did to get the third volume, nothing happened. For a day. Then two days. Then three days. That's not true, actually, because things WERE happening, it's just that the results weren't what they were supposed to be: the second installment kept appearing.

Finally, between a combination of the author writing a letter  to the owner of Amazon and various and sundry fans making a discovery or two, and posting their findings online, we found out the Earth was flat. And that if we deleted the file from our reader, then all of the operating software, reformatted the disc, reinstalled Windows 386 and subsequent upgrades, returned our systems to the store providing all original warranty information, and developed a carbon-neutral lifestyle, we would have tremendously over-reacted, because it just required we contact Amazon using the 'contact us' link, then entered chat mode, a helpful Company Failure Apologist would push the file through to us, and we could read installment three.

In the meantime, though...and, in this case, it turned out to be really MEAN time...there happened to be customers who were NOT happy with their luggage being lost. And they said mean things, prevention of which is the FIRST job of the  CSR/CFA. And, it likely had an impact on sales, a matter of small concern to Amazon, but great concern to Sam Schall/Amanda Green.

(And I'm ALMOST at the point of reviewing the book. I just need to fill in the last bit about why I'm blogging instead of just reviewing.)

Yes, there IS likely to be some economic impact due to the book being lost for a week. HOWEVER, an author cares more for the fans than as just revenue sources. Authors tend to fall in love with their fan base, and desire greatly not to disappoint them (it's a rather sick relationship, actually). And so, when due to circumstances beyond her control, a small element of her fans turned on her, however briefly, it was a bitter experience for Sam / Amanda. And thus, I write this, as a Customer Representative. Not a Customer SERVICE Representative, but as a representative of the customers. And it is my belief that as a group, we understand that our luggage was lost through no evil intent of the author, but that sometimes stuff happens. And that we will continue to fly the friendly skies of Sam Schall / Amanda Green / Ellie Ferguson / Bodacious Werewolf and are, in fact, looking forward to the next flight. Thus endeth the first part. What follows is the Amazon review.

"Honor From Ashes" is the third installment in the "Honor and Duty" series, and it's the payoff punch we have all been waiting for. I am DELIGHTED to say that there really isn't anything substantial left on the table, although there is room for the series to grow.

For reason of life, I did not go back and re-read the first two books in the series, but that really wasn't necessary for a couple of reasons. First of all, The essence of the story is quite vivid: A woman sits in a prison cell, clinging to the hope that she will be rescued and avenged; and then, it happens, and she is restored to command of the Space Marines she loves. That's a remarkable over-simplification, but it's enough for me to tie this third book into the right context. The second reason it wasn't necessary for me to go back is because the author did an excellent job of summarizing the pertinent events in the earlier works, and did so without giving over the first part of the book into a re-hash.

Marine Lt. Col. Ashlyn Shaw has been able to prove she was set up for false charges, and those who were primary agents in the deception are under guard and awaiting trial. Although none have confessed, there is sufficient evidence, coupled with Shaw's testimony, to make the outcome of the cases as sure a thing as it ever gets. However, two items are not resolved satisfactorily. First, the reason behind the frame job hasn't been revealed, and second, Shaw is required to be available as a witness in the trials, and therefore can't be leading her Devil Dogs in  combat.

Wonderful, wonderful character point: Ash HATES the restriction, but doesn't fight against it, because she knows it is her duty. I am SO fracken OVER the alleged hero who can't restrain a thirst for blood vengeance long enough to attend to the non-gory aspects of their job.

The enemies have their hands deep into Shaw's world, but once the head is lopped off, the tentacles are easy to kill. It's rather satisfying to see that happen: convoluted, long-established plots disintegrate, conspirators turn on one another, and the good guys win, and the bad guys lose. Part of the reason for that, frankly, is loyalty. In one system, duty is compelled through coercion; in Shaw's system, personal example and high expectations are linked, and the result is troops who devote themselves to getting the job done and supporting each other.

Top quality work; buy it now!

Offspring for sale on Amazon

After the last episode of family drama, here's something I've thought about: selling my offspring on Amazon. I don't know that it's legal to sell THEM on Amazon, but maybe I could write up a bio of each, include a picture, and sell that.
Then, once I had the product out there, I could review it. And maybe base their birthday present and Christmas gifts on how many stars they had earned.The product would, of course, be subject to updates, as they did more stupid things or more wonderful things, and I would include the updated narrative for no additional cost.
To get over the adult children getting a case of bad attitude because I outed them for doing something stupid, I'd give them a code name, like Jilly Back and Sary Mue.
Maybe I'll start a franchise: Review-Yer-Kids! Include a set of templates. Get Samuel L Jackson to be my Celebrity Spokesperson.
Thinking about ground rules for assigning review stars: as a default condition, GRAND children get a two-star advantage over CHILDREN in the rating. In egregious situations of course, that can be over-written. And with each additional generation, default is to add a star. So great-grands start with three, etc.
And each child gets a half-star for every grandchild. Unless YOU wind up raising the grandchild, in which case the child LOSES one whole star per grandchild.
Hmm. We could be getting into negative numbers...
I'd publish each bio as a pamphlet and sell it through KU. Profits to go to something like the pediatric burn unit at the hospital at UNC-CH or some other for-true children's cause. I guess there has to be a price tag, so say 0.99 per pamphlet.
Second thought, no, too clunky. I'll just lie about it to the kids....or I could invite others to play in my universe, and sell THEIR offspring.

Changeling's Island, revised

I wrote about  Dave Freer's book, Changeling's Island, when it was released as a Baen ARC back in January. It's now on Amazon, and is therefore eligible for review. So review it I did, again demonstrating the value of recycling and cut and paste. However, this blog post has additional original content, and is therefore MUST reading.

Part the first: The Review of the Book, in which I have made Few Changes

Tim Ryan is a nice young man who has had a string of bad luck.  Part of that luck is having parents who are much more interested in being nice to themselves than being parents.  Another part is that he has fallen under the influence of a glamour-girl of his own age, who uses her feminine wiles to persuade him to make all sorts of bad decisions, the most recent one being shoplifting (rotten little snip!).  However, unbeknownst to him, much of the bad luck he's having is due to the fact that he is being followed and "assisted" by mumble pixie mumble fairy mumble.

( I am not an expert on magical terminology;  I will therefore not attempt to recreate the names and titles and designations of all the magical figures.  I would get them wrong, and I'm simply NOT going to devote massive efforts to get it right. Sorry.)

Then we come to a sort of turning point.  Tim doesn't turn, at least not yet, but his circumstances, and therefore his luck, undergo a BIG change: he gets shipped off to live with his grandmother on Flinder's Island.  Important things happen immediately.  First, of course, he gets away from the combined rotten influence of his mother and the glamour-girl  (you can cheer at this point). The second thing that happens is that he meets a girl on the airplane who is not a rotten little snip, and he is nice to her, thereby winning her gratitude.

What follows is a wonderful, delightful, classical coming of age story.  Under the influence of his grandmother, a lot of hard work, and a non-toxic school situation, Tim gets a chance to express those good characteristics which were there all along.  Let me emphasize the " hard work" aspect of that prior sentence, because it is that, as much as anything else, which helped him make the transformation.  He has to learn everything: how to milk a cow,  fork potatoes, and herd sheep.  He falls into bed exhausted every night.  Early.  Frankly, it's not a lifestyle I would enjoy, but if I had gotten the opportunity at age 12, it likely would have been the making of me.

Supplementary material: Yesterday, on Mad Genius Club, Dave wrote a column which addressed some of the things he wanted to accomplish in writing the book. A troll from somewhere sailed in and did what trolls do, and was tiresome about it as well. You may find it to be interesting reading, IF you disregard the troll statements, and just read the points raised by Dave and others as counters.

Other thoughts:
1.  I'm going to go on a snarky rant about the cover.  You may want to change the channel now, because this is both trivial and snide.  It's also no reflection on Dave at all, because he has nothing to do with the cover.  It is, in fact, discussed elsewhere that the cover blurb has very little to do with the content of the story.  I do not know how these circumstances come about.  Stuff happens.  If I were running the publishing company, things would be much worse.  I get that.  Even so, I MUST point out that the cover art contains a prominent feature which does not exist in the story: a blond mermaid.  Now, there IS a female aquatic being, but she is neither blond, nor a mermaid.
I have friends who are artists, and they are… artistic.  They do wonderful, creative things which do not necessarily reflect the reality that we share, but instead are glorious features of their own internal reality.  It's a basic part of what makes them artists.  I have to accept that aspect of their art if I accept ANY aspect of their art.  And let me make this clear: it is excellent artwork on the cover.  It includes most of the significant elements of the story, and it's really well executed.

2. I grew up in an affluent, and non-farming society, and it almost killed me. At one point, during the Depression Years of the 1930s, my grandfather and grandmother provided housing for her mother and a sister and her kids, because nasty circumstances. My grandfather had a good job working for the railroad, and it kept everybody housed and fed. Their was a huge veggie garden and fruit trees on the property, including a scuppernong orchard, which the ladies used to make wine for their fruitcakes. However, this was not a farm. I know the difference; I've been on the two south Georgia farms which represented the old home place and that one of the sisters married onto. BUT! My maternal grandfather got away from the farm when he went off to fight Kaiser Bill, and he never returned. My paternal grandfather got away from the farm when it burned to the ground, and and he worked as a carpenter and as a truck driver. To the best of my knowledge, NONE of the next generation worked as a farmer, so I am at least two generations removed.
So, how did it almost kill me? Lack of purpose.
For that to make sense, you have to know that I was 16 years old in 1969, and that the communal movement was huge. Our shared fantasy was that we were all going to buy land and get away from the poison of the cities, raise our crops, smoke our dope, and share free love.
That didn't work out.
But what DID take hold was the idea that just participating as a cog in a soul-less machine was meaningless, and that's what it felt like was happening. I was living in a society with incredible wealth, so that i never had to apply muscle power to raise food, and I was never given a substitute for the daily desperate task of having to work all day if I was going to eat.
It's a tough problem. We HAVE to have a meaningful reason for getting out of bed, once the taskmasters who raised us, FORCING us to get out of bed, have booted us out.
Shall I tell you my solution?
No, not now. I think I'll take a nap, instead.

A Short Easter Morning Medidation

I haven't been paying attention to the church year. That's a slight departure for me, because I spent a great part of my adult life as a member of two denominations which closely follow the liturgical seasons; first as a Lutheran, then for a longer period as a Methodist.

Today, though, I appear to have dropped even below the level of my Baptist upbringing, which at least recognized Christmas and Easter. If I thought you were interested, or if I were interested, I could give you a historical and personal perspective on the significance of closely following the church seasons. I'd give you a particularly wonderful paragraph on my observance of Lenten fasts.

This year, though, I think the ONLY Easter observance in my house came when my gift-from-God, happily-ever-after trophy wife Vanessa, the elegant, foxy, praying black grandmother of Woodstock, GA, bought a bag of peanut butter and chocolate eggs, for the adults to eat after the kids went to bed. No Easter bonnets, no Easter baskets, no preparation of any kind, material of spiritual.

And here's the point: on the first Easter morning, nobody was prepared, either. The Marys went to the tomb that morning, but weren't prepared for what they would find there. The men didn't even do that.

And then, a miracle happened. Catch me at a different time, and I'll tell you how this proves that God has a sense of humor.

Right now, though, I feel like one of the un-involved in  the sticks outside the city. Barely knowing, maybe not knowing at all, that there was anything going on. Concerned about what the pain in my back means for the day's work. Wondering if the people I care about who are goofing up are going to start making better choices. Not anticipating any changes.

And while I spoon up my breakfast gruel in the sticks (actually, it's Cheerios, not gruel),,,I wonder if the miracles that God is doing are going to reach me? And will I recognize them if they do? And will I respond to them if I recognize them?

Christ is risen;
He is risen indeed!

The REVIEW of Black Tide Rising

BLACK TIDE RISING

John Ringo; Gary Poole (2016-06-07).  Baen. Kindle Edition.

John Ringo is one of the most insanely prolific writers out there. While I was looking for my coffee cup this morning, he wrote seven or eight books, and they are all going to be best sellers.
The only problem with that, is that he was eating all the meat! There wasn't anything left, because John was writing it. So, he got nice on us, and opened up the world.

The result is Black Tide Rising.

Here's the background: an unknown evil genius used SCIENCE to combine two diseases into one. You can get infected either by air-borne transmission, or by direct contact, and in most cases, the next thing you feel are flu symptoms. Those are followed by the sensation of something crawling all over you, so you rip off your clothes, and then the second stage of the disease kicks in: rabies. You loose your ability to reason, and bite anyone you can reach.There is no cure. However, by taking material from the spine of infected primates (which quickly became humans, as the monkey supply was inadequate), a two-stage vaccine was possible.

On land, most of civilization disintegrated immediately. At sea, a determined family and friends formed a nucleus of hope.

It was hard on everybody.

This volume contains, if I have done my counting correctly, 12 stories by 14 authors. At least, there are 14 author biographies at the back of the book. When I ripped through my count, I didn't see Gary Poole's name attached to a story, but he is the co-editor of the anthology with John Ringo, and has also written some preliminary material.

Confession time: I absolutely LOVE this series! So, when I got the book, I ripped through it in one setting. And that means that this particular review is going to take me a LONG time to write, since I'm going to re-read every story in order to make the correct comments. All of the stories are about ordinary people, although some have already been radically changed by conditions. Others are just facing the plague as it hits. Some of the stories are upbeat; others are miserable in tone; some aren't really stories in which something happens, but just thought-pieces in which the characters reveal how the apocalypse has impacted them. Here's my prejudice (one of them; one I'm aware of) up front: I like stories in which good guys win. I don't like stories in which the last good guy gets shot by the rescue squad after standing off evil dead all night long.

YMMV.

Story 1: Never Been Kissed, by John Ringo. Here's a kicker for ya: Faith, who is the epitome of the action hero, who has done more for the morale of her team than anyone else: cleans her weapons. That's it. And while she's doing that, she talks about one of the small rites of passage the holocaust has stripped away.

Story 2: Up on the Roof, by Eric Flint. Old blue-collar workers trapped in Chicago have to figure out a way to survive, or they might as well cut their throats. Their solution is to take refuge on the top of gigantic storage tanks. Initially, the problem isn't how to deal with the zombies, but how to incorporate late-comers, since not everyone comes with the same degree of preparedness.

Story 3: Staying Human, by Jody Lynn Nye. A woman who has become an effective part of a Hunter-Killer couple always keeps a lookout for the mail carrier who turned, and killed her wife and son. When the scientists think they may have a treatment that will reverse the neurological effects of the virus, she has to choose.

Story 4: On the Wall, by John Sclazi & Dave Klecha. This is a slice of life story, I suppose; or maybe it isn't. I didn't bother to look up the definition, although I did re-read the story. It's funny, in an irritating way. There are two guys pulling guard duty on the wall: Jim, who seems reasonable competent, and Keith, who just comes across to me as an obnoxious dork. Maybe I'm missing the point entirely, but this story leaves me wondering if, after the end of the world as we know it, I would shoot somebody just because they were irritating. I can think of some people I would have nominated for that role, and Keith falls into that group. It might take you a bit to get into the story structure, but persevere. I think you will find it worth it.

Story 5: Do No Harm, by  Sarah A. Hoyt.
A talented health-care worker, with aspirations of becoming a doctor, is forced onto the direct battle against plague-infected individuals as the order in a hospital breaks down.Her understanding of the core of medicine, represented by the oath 'First, Do No Harm,' is shattered along with everything else she believes in.

Story 6: Not in Vain, by Kacey Ezell. I was not a fan of cheerleaders, until I actually met with some of them, and found that they are pretty much like any other group of athletes: mostly serious about their sport, and not any more likely to be mean girls than anyone else. YMMV, but this was my experience in working directly with a group of them. That impression is consistent with the behavior we see in a group of cheerleaders on their way back home from a cheerleading competition when the plague hits. Fortunately for them, their coach is a combat veteran, and never goes without a firearm for protection for herself and her girls. The bonds of friendship and team loyalty hold them together, even when some members of the troupe succumb to the virus.

Story 7: How Do You Solve a Problem Like Grandpa? by Michael Z. Williamson
Grandpa has been preparing for the end of the world as we know it, and consequently, his family thinks he's nuts. So, to keep from being institutionalized, he gets rid of his guns. They THINK he gets rid of his guns, that is. Of course,when everything collapses, his place is where they run to for help. But, he can whip them into shape. (I identify strongly with Grandpa, but I haven't reached his level. Yet.)

Story 8: Battle of the BERTs, by Mike Massa
BERTs are Biological Emergency Response Teams, contained in large vehicles which allow for the restraint of infected vehicles. ‌initially, they were used to transport infected to holding cells while treatment options were sought; later, they were used to harvest the infected so that their spines could be extracted to make vaccine.
This story gave me the creeps. It's not enough that civilized structures are collapsing, but here we have various types of bureaucrats fighting over turf. Probably  a likely scenario, but somehow nastier than the others.

Story 9: The Road to Good Intentions, by  Tedd Roberts
There are still some beautifully isolated areas in the the Appalachian Mountains, and I've spent plenty of wonderful times camping and motorcycling through that area. The protagonist of this next story doesn't seem to be able to make up his mind, though; he heads for the hills, but he drags along his significant other who is not at all on board with his plan. He insists on having a distorted view of the local pastor, regarding him as an old school fire and brimstone preacher, instead of a man who has care for his flock. And, as far as I can tell, his inability to face up to reality drives him insane.

Story 10: 200 Miles to Huntsville, by  Christopher Smith.
On what appears to be a routine prisoner transfer, the senior police officer turns out to be planning to get hidden loot from the prisoner. When he comes down with the virus, things change.
And then it gets weird. Maybe you'll like the weird part; it was a little over the top for me.

Story 11: Best Laid Plans, by Jason Cordova & Eric S. Brown
A group of thieves plan to steal from the Louvre, but then the plague strikes, and chaos reigns.
They continue the plan, and do, in fact, escape with lots of materials.
And it never seems to occur to them that the basis for a world economy has vanished, and that sandy paradises will be prime hunting grounds for the infected.

Story 12: The Meaning of Freedom, by John Ringo
Trust John Ringo to complicate a Zombie Apocalypse.
It turns out that the infected fall into two different categories: Alphas, which are hugely aggressive, and must be killed on sight; and Betas, which are passive, don't attack, and as it turns out, are trainable. The ethical dilemma is huge: if left to their own devices, they may starve, or become prey to the Alphas; however, those not infected must either provide direct care for them, or establish a societal structure to accommodate them.
And there is, metaphorically speaking, an awful lot of cotton to be picked.

I am not a fan of the zombie genre; I will NOT watch or read straight-up horror. However, Ringo's world isn't REALLY about zombies; it's about people who have been infected with a weaponized virus set. Maybe I'm trying to do something that can't be done, here, in distinguishing between zombie lit and biological attacks, but it leaves me feeling a bit, well, cleaner, I suppose. I thought all the stories were well-written, but I enjoyed reading stories 1 - 7 and 12; numbers 8-11 made me feel icky; I THINK (but I'm not sure) that's because those were the darker, zombie B-movie sort of stories. I know some people love those.

And I want to give a big shout-out to Brother Dave Truesdale, who INSISTED that the proper way to review was to disregard the author, and just evaluate the story. It wasn't easy, Dave, but I gave it my best.

What Vox Day and George R R Martin Have In Common

There are MANY things, actually, that VD & GRRM have in common, not the least of which is the fact that they both publish blogs that get more attention than I do. 

Most of the science fiction world would be inclined to categorize them based on their differences, rather than their commonalities, though. The controversy surrounding the Hugo Award process has certainly brought their differences into the forefront of conversations, rather than their similarities.

However, a late night conversation with a friend caused me to do some reflection on the matter, and I have the following conclusion: in my opinion, both Vox Day and George R R Martin deserve my personal thanks, which this insignificant blog post is designed to express. If any reader happens to have the ear of either of these gentlemen, please forward my thanks to them.

In the case of Vox Day, that may not be necessary, for I have already thanked him for his consideration. Regardless of your opinion of him, I think that we can all agree that he is a busy man, and as publisher of Castalia House, he has demands on his time that extend far beyond his somewhat extra-curricular activities as a columnist, not to speak of his own work as an author. And yet, TWICE in the past year, he has responded to requests for assistance, which I made in association with my role as a reviewer. 

I'll admit that my reviews are probably read by more people than my blog, but that's not saying very much. I haven't checked lately, but NO post on this blog has ever gotten more than 500+ hits, and few have reached as many as 300. So, to say that my reviews probably are viewed by more people than my blog is tantamount to saying that Ball Ground, Georgia has a smaller population than than Gross Saschenheim, Germany. Neither of those places is a hotbed of bright lights and cutting edge music, although I have experienced delightful moments in both places.

My reviews (and I speak of those on Amazon, not those on my blog) are more popular, and I know that because my current ranking is 5977. When I started looking at my ranking, it was 14,360,604, and that was after I had been reviewing for a couple of months. So, I'm PROUD of the progress I've made, but I'm also quite aware that my impact on the field is: tiny. And therefore, I was hesitant about approaching the publisher of Castalia House and asking for review copies of books. I was doing a series of reviews as a run-up to the announcement of the Hugo Awards, and there were several Castalia House titles I could not obtain from other sources.

(NOTE: They were, in fact, available for purchase, but as I am on a fixed income, my book budget is restricted to what I spend on  my Kindle Unlimited subscription. They were also available to registered voters at WorldCon, but at the time of my request, that option wasn't available.)

In reply to my request, I received a prompt and courteous email, with attachments. The works I had requested were supplied, and there was no hint of a quid pro quo arrangement (other than a fair review). I was pleasantly surprised.

Later, in the course of reviewing "Welcome to the Doomsphere," a book describing the Hugo Award events from the perspective of author and con organizer Matthew M. Foster, I had occasion to quote a reference to Vox Day in my review. Upon the publication of my review, I was immediately told that my statement was inaccurate, and I went directly to the source to ask for his version. Again, he replied immediately and courteously, and gave a complete and succinct statement of his version of the events, which I appended to my review and to the places I had posted it. 

THUS: my personal thanks to Vox Day for the courtesy he has shown me over the past year. I make no further statement regarding him, his actions or his beliefs.

Secondly, my thanks to George R R Martin.  These are prompted by a much more recent event, which is a return to the research I did for my blog post on the Mixon Report ; the return was in response to  a conversation I had with a friend last night. As I was re-reading the material (which I highly recommend to all) I discovered that she had been encourage by none other than George R R Martin in her research and subsequent publication. 

Now, I must confess that I am not a fan of Mr. Martin, for what may seem to be an utterly trivial and perhaps foolish reason. I was given all of the copies of his "Fire and Ice" series by my much-loved first-born son, and after a couple of false starts, I began to devour them. I was appalled to discover at the end of the final published book that the story was not resolved, that NO part of the story had been resolved, and that there were new elements being introduced instead. I felt almost as if I had been deliberately lead astray.

Now, THAT part was childish, on my behalf. Had I done the LEAST bit of research, I would have discovered that the series was unfinished, and that plot points were hanging. It just never occurred to me to ask. 

So, I chose to have a certain snippiness in my attitude to Mr. Martin, and I decided I wasn't going to read any more of the series, even if it were completed. That was a bad attitude I chose for myself.

But last night, as I was re-reading Laura Mixon discuss what she had been through in researching and publishing her report, I found myself being very grateful for his support for her. She is, by her own admission, a very small fish in a very great ocean, and he is a person of great influence and reputation. Therefore, his support was enormously valuable to her, and I think it's likely that without that support, the Mixon Report might not have come to be.

And therefore: thank you, George R R Martin; I am most grateful for your contribution.

Parenthetically: as far as I can determine, Laura Mixon and I are not seated close to each other in the big tent of science fiction. She self-identifies as a member of the progressive element, and I am just a reader (and reviewer). However, her statements have consistently supported the idea that there is room under the tent for everybody, and that's what I believe as well. So, I will wave at her from wherever it is that I sit, and if she sees me, I have no doubt that she will wave back.

Rating Black Tide Rising, plus Universe Rules

Sigh. 
Sister Marina Fontaine asked me how I could come up with an Amazon rating for an anthology which contained a story of contested merit. 
Therefore, having read the book, I now have to review it, and I'm not yet over the issues which took me off-line for a week, But before I write the Amazon review, I'm gonna blog on the background issues.
First, and most boring to you, dear reader, is the reason I've been off-line for a week. I have the great good fortune to be the recipient of a fabulous DNA package which incorporates genes for exceedingly manly height, outstandingly handsome facial features, and a scintillating intellect which rivals that of a Sicilian with a speech impediment. It also brings a late-blooming feature of HLA-B27, which sometimes manifests as ankylosing spondylitis, a progressive degenerative disease, mostly appearing as joint pain, and accompanied in blood tests by extremely high levels of inflammation. It hurts. Always, it hurts, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. And, a few months ago, I discovered that the use of the keyboard was causing me such pain in my hands, that I had to come up with an alternative. I found that I was able to use the built-in speech recognition in Windows 7, and so I dictated merrily away, soon finding that the interface was not interfering with my awr-inspiring creative processes.
Then, the bluetooth dongle stopped working, so it's back to the keyboard again. And that's what I'm doing now. I anticipate I'll have some unknown amount of time before my hands start hurting again, but what the heck; we have no guarantees that ANY part of our body is going to function, period, so I have no reason to complain. 
I may whine pathetically some time when I am in a particular spasm mode, or when the pain centers in one area for a long period of time and JUST WON'T GO AWAY, because it HURTS, dammit, but that's NOT complaining. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't hurt, but I'm not going to say it's not fair, or I don't deserve this, or one of those stupid statements. People who complain misunderstand the rules of the universe. Here are the relevant rules: 
1. You are going to die. So is everybody you know and love, and know and hate, and don't know at all.
2. It's not personal, but it remains lethal.
3. Before you die, you are going to experience pain. Of all kinds.
4. You get to choose how you are going to deal with that, up to the point at which you are overwhelmed.
(The following isn't a rule of the universe, but it's worth incorporating:)
5. Until you are overwhelmed, don't treat people like a jerk.

And now, back to the question posed by Sister Marina: how do I evaluate an anthology containing a story of contested merit.
Brother Dave Truesdale pointed out that readers/reviewers have to discriminate between the STORY and the AUTHOR in evaluating a work. That's true, and it's also rather difficult, because of something called the 'halo' effect; if a person has accomplished a Great Thing, the side effect is that true perception of their other work is blurred, because it is seen through a filter of the Greatness of the Great Thing. Same thing is true if the person has done a Horrid Thing, although I suppose that could be called the 'horns' effect.

So: what's the specific application? 
Black Tide Rising is a collection of stories, written in a world established by John Ringo, in which a genetically engineered rabies virus infects enough people to end civilization as we know it. It contains a story by one John Scalzi, titled "On the Wall." And Scalzi is on "The Other Side."

It is IMPOSSIBLE to summarize the rift which has grown up among members of the science fiction community, but there is one, and it's not a simple canyon. It's more like lots of them; think erosion and meteor impact, and you might get an idea of the splinter groups. But a lot of it has to do with the Hugo Award process, and it. sort of, has provided a focal point for the nastygrams posted everywhere in the last twelve months. And there is a somewhat artificial designation of people into the categories of 'Puppies' and 'Puppy Kickers.' As a GENERAL RULE (!!!), 'Puppies' are identified with Baen, and 'Puppy Kickers' are identified with Tor; NOTABLE exceptions to this are Baen authors John Ringo, himself, who doesn't give a fuzzy rip about the Hugo Award, and Eric Flint, who appears to regard it all as sound and wind, signifying nothing.

So: how does a story by John Scalzi, roundly derided by Puppies, show up in a Baen anthology, alongside such prominent Puppies as Sarah A. Hoyt?

Not a clue. Not a freaken clue. Feel free to speculate.

I DO know this: John Scalzi HAD, at one point, three books available through the Baen website. Those three are no longer available for purchase through Baen, but may be downloaded if previously purchased, and that's a relatively new status (as in, I have no freepen idea when it happened).

But: WHAT DOES IT MEAN? Well, I think we are just going to have to wait to discover that. Keep the pitchforks and torches where you can get at them, but you may want to keep some specially-fed meat animals on hand as well, in case a feast is called for.

But, in a short answer to Sister Marina, I'm going to try to follow Brother Dave's advice. I THINK, although I'm not sure, that this is a case in which I can do that. I'm certainly not going to penalize the rest of the book, if I find one story to be a problem.
Maybe I write the review tomorrow.