I will have plenty of (new and never read) copies of my Shadowrun novels available. These are sometimes hard to find so come get yours. In fact it’s ironic, but I am down to one physical paperback copy of my latest book – The Edge of Chaos – and cannot get any more copies because the publisher has designated it as out of print. (It’s still available in ebook and audiobook form.)
So, come out and hear me (and other authors) read and entertain you. There will be snacks, gaming, and you might even learn how the decision to kill off Dunkelzahn came about.
For the first time, I will be attending Emerald City Comicon, which features some huge media stars like Patrick Stewart and Felicia Day and Wil Weaton and… and…
I have one panel on Saturday, March 2nd at 2:20. Show up early.
ASK THE (BOOK) EDITORS
Room: HALL C (602-603) Start: 2:20PM
Join novelist Philip Athans as he joins Nina Hess (Editor-in-Chief, Wizards of the Coast) Fleetwood Robbins (Editor, Wizards of he Coast), Jak Koke (Managing Editor, Per Aspera Press), and James Sutter (Editor, Paizo) for a spirited Q&A for aspiring authors of fantasy and science fiction. They will cover such topics as query dos and don’ts, how to write better, how to submit your work, and how to build a career as a novelist.
Today, The Edge of Chaos is available in audiobook format from Audible. This is cool. And it’s a first for me. I haven’t listened to it yet so cannot comment on the narration by Paul Neal Rohrer or the production quality, but it was released by Audible’s own Audible Frontiers publisher division so I’m guessing it’s put together professionally.
Since I am a huge fan of audiobooks, having one of my own books available in this format is just over the ‘awesomeness-dialed-to-eleven’ line. When I wrote and revised and re-revised and copyedited and proofread The Edge of Chaos, you couldn’t have paid me to read the whole thing again—well actually you could, but it would’ve cost a lot. But that was years ago, and I’m not sick of it any more. I’m looking forward to listening to the story.
As I think more and more about it, I am finding that I want to reconnect with Duvan and Slanya and Gregor and Tyrangal. I want to return to Ormpetarr and cross into the The Plaguewrought Lands. I’m not so much interested in re-encountering Vraith or Beaugrat, but I will happily suffer them for the rest. :)
If you love audiobooks, I invite you to listen to mine. It’s available on Amazon.com and Audible.com. Amazon is really promoting Audible right now. If you sign up for a 30-day trial subscription you get The Edge of Chaos plus one other audiobook for free, 30% off any additional audiobooks, and a free audio subscription to either The New York Times or The Wall Street Journal.
I personally don’t know if I’d listen to either newspaper in audio format, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised about how much I love books read to me. So who knows? Have you listened to the news this way? How was it?
Now it’s back to Faerûn for me. For ten hours and twenty-four minutes of spellplague, adventure, and living on the border between sanity and its opposite—the edge of chaos.
For those of you who haven’t been paying attention, Patrick Rothfuss’s two novels The Name of the Wind and The Wise Man’s Fear are masterpieces of storytelling. The characters are complex and richly developed, the writing is lyrical and meticulously crafted, and the plot is engaging. This is one of the best stories that I have read. Rothfuss’s writing is clever, and thoughtful… and even when not a lot is happening, I am drawn along because I care about the characters.
So when I had the opportunity to check out the audiobook from our incredible Seattle Public Library, I took it even though I had already read the book. I wanted to read it again anyway.
I got hooked on audiobooks when I was commuting to a day job, and had to spend 30 minutes in the car each morning and again at night. An intriguing audiobook would make otherwise dull and frustrating time pass quickly. I cannot recommend them enough… especially if you can get them from the library. Audiobooks are relatively expensive because the publisher has to pay the voice actor(s), sound engineer, and producer. A long novel can be upwards of 40 hours long, which adds a substantial cost to production above what the author gets. And yet, I would say that the experience of a well-produced and expertly-narrated audiobook is worth the money.
The Brilliance Audio productions of the Rothfuss books are worth it. Days and days of entertainment and distraction while you get stuff done. It’s a pretty great deal actually.
The narrator of both The Name of Wind and The Wise Man’s Fear is Nick Podehl. His reading is marvelously expressive. He does voices for all the characters as one would expect, and in my opinion he has got them down cold. To me, his voice is Kvothe’s voice.
I don’t have a twice a day commute anymore, but even so I seem to have less and less time to sit down and read. When I’m not writing or editing at the computer, I’m up and about doing something around the house. I find that listening to a good story is a perfect way to pass the time when I’m battling entropy around the house — washing dishes, cleaning a room, or working on a project that’s primarily physical like car repair or construction. I’ve gotten to where I even listen in the shower from time to time. This isn’t good for my hot water bill as I tend to take longer showers when I’m involved in a good story.
But I also get a lot more dishes washed. Thanks Pat and Nick!
Do you like audiobooks? Have you read or listened to any that you particularly love? Let me know in the comments.
Karawynn and I caught a local flight from a tiny airstrip near our resort hotel on the Pacific coast to the big city of San Jose and stayed the night at a low-key but comfortable bed and breakfast before beginning our long journey to the jungle.
The next day, we woke early and took our breakfast in the pre-dawn with sounds of the waking city filtering in through the patio doors. The first leg of our journey took us over paved highways and roads in ever-thinning traffic, winding through suburbs, past coffee plantations and up into the mountains.
Come Mister Tally Man
I expected this four-and-half-hour drive to be dull, but it wasn’t. The guide was informative and entertaining. The mountains are all volcanic and many of them are still active. They’re blanketed with lush vegetation and sculpted by streams and waterfalls, some of which we could see from the road. On the East side of the mountains, the land slopes down into a broad, lowland expanse which eventually ends at the Caribbean Sea. This is where pineapples and bananas are farmed, packaged, and shipped out to destinations around the world.
After nearly three hours, we turned off the paved road and drove slowly on gravel. We passed pastures of grazing water buffalo and drove through acres upon acres of banana plantations. When the guide asked us if we wanted to stop and take a look at a banana processing and packing plant, we readily accepted.
Some details that I wasn’t previously aware of: Each banana tree produces only one hanging cluster (aka bunch or banana stem) which can contain hundreds of bananas. This stem is bagged while still on the tree to prevent monkeys and bugs from eating the fruit. When the stem is ready for harvest, it is cut from the tree, hooked, and put on an overhead track. After harvesting this one banana stem, the tree is cut off at the base and the next tree will regrow from the roots.
Workers pushed the hooked banana stems (with their hundreds of bananas) along the track to the processing warehouse where more workers used machetes to cut off the tiers or “hands” of four to six bananas and put them into sorting baths.
In the plant we stopped at, there was a clear division of labor. Men transported the bunches from the trees and cut off the banana hands. Women sorted out singles and any bananas that were too ripe to survive the several weeks of shipping. Some of these were slated to be sold locally in fruit stands and stores in the cities, but the majority of the cast-offs were to be used in animal feed. Women also bagged the bunches after they had been sprayed with (what we were told was) fungicide. Men packed the crates for loading in refrigerated train cars, destined for the port at Limón where they would be loaded onto ships and transported to Europe or the US.
I had not expected to see this element of Costa Rican life, but it was illuminating. Costa Rica is the second largest exporter of bananas in the world, behind Ecuador. I have been eating bananas my whole life, but (with the exception of Hawaii) I have never lived close to where bananas actually grow. They cannot be considered a local food. So I started thinking: how much effort does it take to get a 25 cent banana to a grocery store near you? What are the economic and social constructs in place to make this happen in Costa Rica?
It turns out that there’s a lot of information about this online. Plantation workers make around $14.50/day and live in small, remote villages. From what I could see from the villages we drove through, the buildings were in good shape — vastly better than dilapidated city slums of San Jose we could see from the air on our flight in. The plantation villages each had a church and a soccer field with goals… seriously, even the tiniest village where I could not identify a store or a medical clinic had the necessary underpinnings of society — god and football. I have no idea how much $14.50/day can buy in rural Costa Rica, but (for reference) the minimum wage there is about $10/day.
The Costa Rican economy is in transition. Once exploited for resources like lumber (much of the rainforest that we visited later had been extensively logged only 70 years ago), tourism is the main industry today. Eco-tourism relies on a robust and healthy environment so its rise has given greater economic importance to sustainability. This has led to a decrease in the clear-cutting of forest land since crops like bananas and pineapples, while profitable, are no longer the clear winner economically. In fact, land owners with rainforest on their property are paid by the government to keep their forested land growing un-pillaged.
Once we left the banana packing plant behind, our guides were eager to show us some wildlife. We did spot some howler monkeys off in the trees on our left, and we also noticed a sloth hanging from the overhead wires. We eagerly gathered up our camera and got out to look at the sloth… only to slowly realize that it was dead, apparently electrocuted on the power lines. It could not have been dead for too long as we could see no decomposition. Through the binoculars, we could see quite a number of flies on its nose and face.
We left saddened by this sight, and acutely aware that denizens of the forest are ill-equipped to survive in the world of civilized man. Our van ride ended at a boat dock and we caught our ride to Tortuga Lodge from there — an hour and a half motor boat journey up river to the Tortugero National Park. Our day had progressed in stages from civilization through rural agriculture and the blurred interface of agriculture and wilderness, but now we were taking the final step and were surrounded by rainforest.
There are only two ways to get to Tortugero: 1) boat up river as we did or 2) fly into the tiny airstrip and get on a boat from there to the park. The latter is faster, but in both cases you have to go on the river. And to actually see the rainforest and its wildlife, you must use its numerous waterways. The trees and other foliage grow on narrow islands and land spits surrounded by a maze of slow-moving streams and rivers.
As we motored toward our destination in the jungle, I felt the cool spray of water from the broad river whose banks were impenetrable walls of green foliage. The gray clouds threatened rain, and I could not help but be reminded of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness and the more modern Apocalypse Now. Fortunately, we weren’t headed toward a primitive, bacchanalian orgy in the heart of the jungle, but as we left the structures of society farther behind I felt a surge of excitement. Perhaps I gained an appreciation for Conrad and the sense of wildness that lurks inside all of us.
The purpose of the boat ride was to transport us to our lodging, but the boat pilot had been a naturalist guide for over a decade, so he couldn’t help but show us a caiman in the reeds and point out various birds along the way. We would later get to see many more animals and a vast panoply of birds, but each of these little steps were like peeling layers of civilization away.
Until finally we reached our destination. The logical progression would have us spending our time in the rainforest living in tribal huts with the local native peoples… but thankfully that was not our fate. Instead, we pulled up to the dock, and were greeted by the exceedingly gracious staff of the Tortuga Lodge. They escorted us to a river-view table in their dining hall and served a fantastic late lunch of mango ceviche salad, garlic shrimp, and green beans. These were luxury accommodations in the middle of the jungle, and a much better denouement than Conrad’s “The horror. The horror.”
Welcome to the Jungle … with Maid Service
Over the next three days, we slept in a very comfortable king bed, explored the gardens, ate excellent food, took guided boat tours through the rainforest, ate excellent food, kayaked through the jungle, ate excellent food, and helped teach English at a local school. Did I mention the food?
With the exception of the leatherback turtles (which we knew would not be nesting during our visit), we saw all the advertised wildlife — squirrel monkeys and capuchins, sloths (alive), toucans and herons and an array of other birds, and dozens of poison dart frogs. The high points have to be 1) the epic battle we witnessed next to the pool between Godzilla the huge iguana and the mated pair of yigüirros (clay-colored thrush), and 2) glimpsing endangered green macaws.
Our guide, Norton, who was blind in one eye (it was missing) and could identify every animal by its sound, picked out the green macaws and pointed us in their direction as they flew past. He didn’t see them, but I caught a glimpse of the stretched-diamond shape of their tails, the distinctive line of their wings, and the sharp hook of their beaks. We only saw them for minute before they disappeared into the trees, but it was a thrill to find them. There are estimated to be fewer than 2500 mature macaws left in the world. Their habitat has been dwindling due to extensive deforestation, and their desirability as a cagebird has resulted in massive poaching.
These macaws are beautiful and smart. They live 60 years or longer. Most captured birds spend their lives in cages and their owners die before they do. The northern Caribbean coast is their only natural habitat left in Costa Rica, and even the staff at the lodge go months without spotting one.
The iguana battle started when the seven-foot lizard decided it was going to climb the tree where the mated pair of yigüirros were nesting. We watched the birds dive-bomb the iguana over and over as it clawed its way up the trunk of the tree. Once it got past the vee in the trunk and chose the branch that led away from the nest, the birds abruptly stopped their violent harassment of the lizard… which was mostly ignoring them anyway. It turned out that Godzilla just wanted to get to the top branch and sun itself, and Karawynn later researched it and learned that only young iguanas eat bird eggs. The older ones like our massive friend feast only on leaves.
Our trip back to civilization was much different. We took a small plane from the airstrip across the river. It was a five minute boat ride instead of the hour-and-a-half ride we’d had coming in. There was no van ride, no banana plantations, although the aerial view of the waterfalls was nice. Soon, we were back in the traffic and bustle of the big city — asphalt and cinderblock, glass and metal, diesel fumes and a tourist kitsch superstore. I knew that many people fly to the jungle the way we flew out, but for me the journey itself enriched the whole experience.