Just thought I should let you know that I won't be blogging for a few days as I will be taking deep breaths of mountain air. It will be fun. Maybe I will meet a marmot and it will try to speak to me.
Everyone enjoy your weekend!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Language Communities, or, The Foreigners' Dorm in Kamisoshigaya
When I was writing a bio for my appearances at BayCon and Westercon, I decided to get silly and couch all my language experiences as though they'd taken place on other planets instead of just other countries. What the hey - it made me giggle, right?
But in fact, this is how the analogy translates. It's where I get my culture clash and miscommunication ideas. It's not where I get my language structure ideas, typically, but in the linguistics stories I write I always need language structure *and* cultural ideas.
So I thought I'd tell you a little about the Monbusho foreigner's dorm in Kamisoshigaya, which is essentially where I had my first "spaceport" experience. The dorm was located in a nice neighborhood, a fifteen-minute walk from one train station and a twenty-minute walk from the other. (Commuting to university sure got you in shape.) The building had four wings, and five floors; all the rooms were singles. D wing and the fifth floor were occupied by girls, while the first four floors of A-C were for boys. This gender division did make for some interesting dynamics in itself, but the real complexity was in language communities.
Three hundred and sixty students lived there, from about 60 different countries. It was amazing. The student population naturally formed itself into groups and specialized. It was well known, for example, that if you wanted to throw a really good party, the Americans had to be in charge of the scheduling and food, the Australians had to be in charge of drinks, and the Brazilians had to be in charge of music.
The language groups were stronger than the functional groups, though, and they came in layers. The entire dorm population could be divided into two main communities:
1. People who spoke English better than they spoke Japanese
2. People who spoke Japanese better than they spoke English
This division was made possible by English's status as an international tongue, and the fact that everyone at the dorm was studying Japanese. If it came right down to it, everyone there could use Japanese to communicate on some level, but the Japanese-dominant and English-dominant groups were the strongest. Usually if you were in the English-dominant group, you wouldn't know the students from the other group very well, and vice versa.
Chinese, Thai, Korean, and other Asian students usually fell into the Japanese group. So did a number of Brazilians and Peruvians of Japanese descent, and some eastern Europeans (like Bulgarians).
Filipinos, however, fell into the English group, as did western Europeans and a goodly number of South Americans (and naturally the Aussies, South Africans and New Zealanders).
Within each of these two groups, then, were linguistic sub-groups. Native English speakers had their own group, which given the status of English as a popular lingua franca, was pretty open to anyone who wanted to speak English. The French and Italians tended to clump together for some reason (romance languages that aren't Spanish, perhaps?). Spanish speakers from all over the world had their own social group and they spent a great deal of time together, including having amazing parties that would last until 4 or 5 in the morning. The Chinese-speaking students had their own social group within the Japanese-dominant group.
So how does this apply to our visions of a spaceport, then?
If a lingua franca is available (or more than one) then this kind of fluid group-membership can probably be expected. If there is no obvious lingua franca to use, then pidgins might result (basically, mixtures of words from more than one language with a very rudimentary grammar - but more on those another time).
There's nothing quite so reassuring as hanging out with people and knowing that when you open your mouth, they will actually understand what you need. Of course there are cultural commonalities that can apply when people are accustomed to using the same language.
One little caveat: just because you and another person share a native language doesn't mean you can assume that cultural expectations associated with its use will also be the same. My Australian husband and I learned that early on when we started dating!
But that's a whole different story.
But in fact, this is how the analogy translates. It's where I get my culture clash and miscommunication ideas. It's not where I get my language structure ideas, typically, but in the linguistics stories I write I always need language structure *and* cultural ideas.
So I thought I'd tell you a little about the Monbusho foreigner's dorm in Kamisoshigaya, which is essentially where I had my first "spaceport" experience. The dorm was located in a nice neighborhood, a fifteen-minute walk from one train station and a twenty-minute walk from the other. (Commuting to university sure got you in shape.) The building had four wings, and five floors; all the rooms were singles. D wing and the fifth floor were occupied by girls, while the first four floors of A-C were for boys. This gender division did make for some interesting dynamics in itself, but the real complexity was in language communities.
Three hundred and sixty students lived there, from about 60 different countries. It was amazing. The student population naturally formed itself into groups and specialized. It was well known, for example, that if you wanted to throw a really good party, the Americans had to be in charge of the scheduling and food, the Australians had to be in charge of drinks, and the Brazilians had to be in charge of music.
The language groups were stronger than the functional groups, though, and they came in layers. The entire dorm population could be divided into two main communities:
1. People who spoke English better than they spoke Japanese
2. People who spoke Japanese better than they spoke English
This division was made possible by English's status as an international tongue, and the fact that everyone at the dorm was studying Japanese. If it came right down to it, everyone there could use Japanese to communicate on some level, but the Japanese-dominant and English-dominant groups were the strongest. Usually if you were in the English-dominant group, you wouldn't know the students from the other group very well, and vice versa.
Chinese, Thai, Korean, and other Asian students usually fell into the Japanese group. So did a number of Brazilians and Peruvians of Japanese descent, and some eastern Europeans (like Bulgarians).
Filipinos, however, fell into the English group, as did western Europeans and a goodly number of South Americans (and naturally the Aussies, South Africans and New Zealanders).
Within each of these two groups, then, were linguistic sub-groups. Native English speakers had their own group, which given the status of English as a popular lingua franca, was pretty open to anyone who wanted to speak English. The French and Italians tended to clump together for some reason (romance languages that aren't Spanish, perhaps?). Spanish speakers from all over the world had their own social group and they spent a great deal of time together, including having amazing parties that would last until 4 or 5 in the morning. The Chinese-speaking students had their own social group within the Japanese-dominant group.
So how does this apply to our visions of a spaceport, then?
If a lingua franca is available (or more than one) then this kind of fluid group-membership can probably be expected. If there is no obvious lingua franca to use, then pidgins might result (basically, mixtures of words from more than one language with a very rudimentary grammar - but more on those another time).
There's nothing quite so reassuring as hanging out with people and knowing that when you open your mouth, they will actually understand what you need. Of course there are cultural commonalities that can apply when people are accustomed to using the same language.
One little caveat: just because you and another person share a native language doesn't mean you can assume that cultural expectations associated with its use will also be the same. My Australian husband and I learned that early on when we started dating!
But that's a whole different story.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Some Thoughts on Endings
There are a couple things to keep in mind about writing endings. One is that they must be prepared for properly. The other is that they can't be entirely expected.
These two things can actually work against one another, because if you've prepared throughout your manuscript for a particular ending, people will generally expect it. You then need to defeat their expectations. So if you reach the ending and experience reader protest, then there are two possible sources for a solution.
1. Change the preparation
2. Change the ending to beat the expectations
I've done #1 quite a lot: discovered that readers felt an ending I wrote was unsupported - that is to say, not given a proper foundation - in what came before. The solution to this problem is to go back and build a proper foundation in the earlier material. Set up the right convergence of characters and motives, set up the proper world knowledge, etc.
I've also done #2. When my plot gives a person a choice of two options - either the protagonist gets one thing or gets another - there can be a different kind of problem. Sometimes the reader can feel unsatisfied with either option, because they saw the choice coming a mile away and neither one answers the story problem particularly well. In that case, you can do one of two things: satisfy yourself with a sense of ambiguity, or look for a third alternative.
Naturally, any solution you choose does have to fit well with the preparation. One of the things that is most important to me is that the solution be the best one for the protagonist's particular character. An ambiguous ending requires both options to be just about equal in attractiveness from this point of view. And any third alternative has to have both a benefit and a price. If the protagonist has wanted one particular deal through the whole story, and at the end must decide to try for another outcome, there must be a big risk involved, and possibly a sacrifice. If your character gets to have it both ways too easily, then readers will feel like it was a cop-out, that all the difficult lead-in was let down at the end. And you don't want that either.
This stuff is very difficult - not only coming up with the options but deciding which one will serve the story best.
A couple of examples from my own work.
I had a big complicated solution planned for a novel which involved negotiating with multiple parties and then confronting a single heavily recalcitrant party to use the masses to sway his opinion. When I got there, it seemed foregone. So I decided to go back and set up the expectation for a bimodal (one-or-the-other) solution. The protagonists decide the only way to reach this recalcitrant person they must convince is to bring him someone he knows, through great peril, to convince him. Then readers ask, "Will the convincing person arrive or not?" They believe his arrival is the only solution, and then when he doesn't arrive, they find the planned ending much more unexpected (and hopefully persuasive - I'm still working on it).
In another story, I had the hero striving for a goal that he would either get or not. When I wrote it with him achieving the goal, all the difficulties that I'd set up for him seemed flat. Of course he was going to succeed, ho, hum. And anyway, readers weren't at all sure that the deal he got was the best one for him, because it came with a lot of strings. So that time I backed off and tried to get to the bottom of his motive. This is what my husband calls trying to find the real goal of the negotiation (in a business context): not looking at the offers that the two parties have put on the table, but looking past that to the actual desired outcome, and trying to find a way to satisfy that outcome independently of the existing offers. When I did this, I found a much more satisfying ending for the story.
Right now I'm in another quandary situation, looking at the ending of a story and trying to evaluate the building blocks, the lead-in, the characters' needs, and what kinds of options I have. It's never easy, but if I can manage to think about it clearly, I'll have a better story on my hands.
Have any of you had an experience like this? If you have, I'd love to hear.
These two things can actually work against one another, because if you've prepared throughout your manuscript for a particular ending, people will generally expect it. You then need to defeat their expectations. So if you reach the ending and experience reader protest, then there are two possible sources for a solution.
1. Change the preparation
2. Change the ending to beat the expectations
I've done #1 quite a lot: discovered that readers felt an ending I wrote was unsupported - that is to say, not given a proper foundation - in what came before. The solution to this problem is to go back and build a proper foundation in the earlier material. Set up the right convergence of characters and motives, set up the proper world knowledge, etc.
I've also done #2. When my plot gives a person a choice of two options - either the protagonist gets one thing or gets another - there can be a different kind of problem. Sometimes the reader can feel unsatisfied with either option, because they saw the choice coming a mile away and neither one answers the story problem particularly well. In that case, you can do one of two things: satisfy yourself with a sense of ambiguity, or look for a third alternative.
Naturally, any solution you choose does have to fit well with the preparation. One of the things that is most important to me is that the solution be the best one for the protagonist's particular character. An ambiguous ending requires both options to be just about equal in attractiveness from this point of view. And any third alternative has to have both a benefit and a price. If the protagonist has wanted one particular deal through the whole story, and at the end must decide to try for another outcome, there must be a big risk involved, and possibly a sacrifice. If your character gets to have it both ways too easily, then readers will feel like it was a cop-out, that all the difficult lead-in was let down at the end. And you don't want that either.
This stuff is very difficult - not only coming up with the options but deciding which one will serve the story best.
A couple of examples from my own work.
I had a big complicated solution planned for a novel which involved negotiating with multiple parties and then confronting a single heavily recalcitrant party to use the masses to sway his opinion. When I got there, it seemed foregone. So I decided to go back and set up the expectation for a bimodal (one-or-the-other) solution. The protagonists decide the only way to reach this recalcitrant person they must convince is to bring him someone he knows, through great peril, to convince him. Then readers ask, "Will the convincing person arrive or not?" They believe his arrival is the only solution, and then when he doesn't arrive, they find the planned ending much more unexpected (and hopefully persuasive - I'm still working on it).
In another story, I had the hero striving for a goal that he would either get or not. When I wrote it with him achieving the goal, all the difficulties that I'd set up for him seemed flat. Of course he was going to succeed, ho, hum. And anyway, readers weren't at all sure that the deal he got was the best one for him, because it came with a lot of strings. So that time I backed off and tried to get to the bottom of his motive. This is what my husband calls trying to find the real goal of the negotiation (in a business context): not looking at the offers that the two parties have put on the table, but looking past that to the actual desired outcome, and trying to find a way to satisfy that outcome independently of the existing offers. When I did this, I found a much more satisfying ending for the story.
Right now I'm in another quandary situation, looking at the ending of a story and trying to evaluate the building blocks, the lead-in, the characters' needs, and what kinds of options I have. It's never easy, but if I can manage to think about it clearly, I'll have a better story on my hands.
Have any of you had an experience like this? If you have, I'd love to hear.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Some thoughts on Religion in Japan
The panel I was on today about metaphysics, science and religion got me thinking about belief systems. While there is a lot of variation in belief systems across the world, I think that it's hard to understand what an alternate belief system entails unless you've lived in contact with it - and really paid attention - for some time.
I've spoken here before about syncretic traditions, and mentioned the coxistence of the Shinto animistic beliefs and the Buddhist beliefs in Japan. Essentially, if you were to take a poll of the Japanese population, over half would describe themselves as Buddhist, and over half would describe themselves as Shinto.
Mathematically, that means a good portion of the population believes in both.
When I first heard this, it surprised me - probably because I was accustomed to hearing about religions that claimed exclusivity. However, Buddhism has a tendency to blend with whatever beliefs pre-exist its arrival in a geographical area, and that's what happened with Shinto. This is why, for example, you can have stories about bird-goblins (tree and mountain spirits also called tengu) tormenting overly proud Buddhist priests who use their power for their own gain. Indeed, a powerful tengu is said to be able to change its form into that of an itinerant Buddhist priest (usually one with quite a long nose).
When you see this syncretism in action, it's quite fascinating. A bit like two kids who, when asked to share, decide to take turns. From what I've seen of the Buddhist and Shinto traditions, one or the other will be associated with particular types of life events or activities. Some holidays call for Buddhist celebration, and others Shinto. Birth ceremonies are often in the Shinto tradition, as are weddings, while funerals are generally Buddhist. The two aren't exclusive of one another, nor are they exclusive of other traditions. Sometimes you can even see a Japanese couple being married in a western-style ceremony - or a western ceremony followed by a Shinto one, each with its own elaborate style of dress.
Before experiencing it first-hand, I would never have imagined that kind of a system of beliefs. And I always find it broadening to encounter things I have never imagined before, in part because it helps me to imagine more diverse ideas in the future.
Note:
I don't want to go into the history of Christianity in Japan in detail here. If you're curious, one fascinating source of information is Endo's book entitled "Silence." The part that I found most saddening about the story was that when Christianity first came to Japan, the Japanese were very open to it. Problems began to arise when Christian missionaries enforced the exclusion of the pre-existing traditions, and those problems worsened when areas of Japan, complete with local lords, their towns and armies, used Christianity to separate themselves from the rest of the population. Fortunately, at this point all the ugliness has become ancient history.
I've spoken here before about syncretic traditions, and mentioned the coxistence of the Shinto animistic beliefs and the Buddhist beliefs in Japan. Essentially, if you were to take a poll of the Japanese population, over half would describe themselves as Buddhist, and over half would describe themselves as Shinto.
Mathematically, that means a good portion of the population believes in both.
When I first heard this, it surprised me - probably because I was accustomed to hearing about religions that claimed exclusivity. However, Buddhism has a tendency to blend with whatever beliefs pre-exist its arrival in a geographical area, and that's what happened with Shinto. This is why, for example, you can have stories about bird-goblins (tree and mountain spirits also called tengu) tormenting overly proud Buddhist priests who use their power for their own gain. Indeed, a powerful tengu is said to be able to change its form into that of an itinerant Buddhist priest (usually one with quite a long nose).
When you see this syncretism in action, it's quite fascinating. A bit like two kids who, when asked to share, decide to take turns. From what I've seen of the Buddhist and Shinto traditions, one or the other will be associated with particular types of life events or activities. Some holidays call for Buddhist celebration, and others Shinto. Birth ceremonies are often in the Shinto tradition, as are weddings, while funerals are generally Buddhist. The two aren't exclusive of one another, nor are they exclusive of other traditions. Sometimes you can even see a Japanese couple being married in a western-style ceremony - or a western ceremony followed by a Shinto one, each with its own elaborate style of dress.
Before experiencing it first-hand, I would never have imagined that kind of a system of beliefs. And I always find it broadening to encounter things I have never imagined before, in part because it helps me to imagine more diverse ideas in the future.
Note:
I don't want to go into the history of Christianity in Japan in detail here. If you're curious, one fascinating source of information is Endo's book entitled "Silence." The part that I found most saddening about the story was that when Christianity first came to Japan, the Japanese were very open to it. Problems began to arise when Christian missionaries enforced the exclusion of the pre-existing traditions, and those problems worsened when areas of Japan, complete with local lords, their towns and armies, used Christianity to separate themselves from the rest of the population. Fortunately, at this point all the ugliness has become ancient history.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Looking forward to tomorrow...
Things got exciting when we started planning costumes for BayCon tomorrow.
Given that I'm a writer and want to be able to take myself seriously while I talk about writing, I don't usually dress to the hilt - just nicely. But we got talking and my son wanted to be a Japanese wizard and I offered to do Kabuki makeup for him, and then we got watching Kabuki on the internet...
So now I'm missing Japan, and our whole family is planning to dress up in Japanese style tomorrow. I suppose given the inspiration that Japan has been for my writing, it's rather appropriate.
Now, if I can only remember how to put on my yukata...
Given that I'm a writer and want to be able to take myself seriously while I talk about writing, I don't usually dress to the hilt - just nicely. But we got talking and my son wanted to be a Japanese wizard and I offered to do Kabuki makeup for him, and then we got watching Kabuki on the internet...
So now I'm missing Japan, and our whole family is planning to dress up in Japanese style tomorrow. I suppose given the inspiration that Japan has been for my writing, it's rather appropriate.
Now, if I can only remember how to put on my yukata...
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Songs to Sing
Okay, so you're creating a world. Does it need songs?
My answer would be yes, if you want to have a complete sense of world culture - but you shouldn't necessarily include them in your story. They should appear in the story only if they are doing something meaningful for the narrative.
Songs have an inherent difficulty to them - let's face it - because you can't really put the music into the book; only the words. But they can be very effective in creating atmosphere, and they can drive a story forward - or even do both.
Tolkien includes songs in his work. Along with the ruins and ancient places he puts in his stories, these suggest the deep history of Middle Earth. They also suggest the differing culture of the elves and the men. I think Tolkien's songs are great, but I love this kind of stuff anyway. Not everyone feels the way I do, and I know some people skip songs when they're added just for local color and world detail.
Anne McCaffrey uses songs as well, and I particularly liked the way she handled them in the Dragonsong/Dragonsinger/Dragon Drums series. Not only were they there to show culture on Pern, the songs were Menolly's central driving motivation, and there was an inherent conflict in the fact that the songs were used to teach lessons, but that Menolly's pursuit of music went against all the lessons she'd learned. That is a way to integrate songs thoroughly into a story! And come to think of it, that's the way I like to treat language in my own stories - on multiple levels.
Think about what songs - and the surrounding description of the music that you include with them - might do for the world you're creating. They can help to place the world chronologically, by invoking technology sets associated with the era in which those musical styles were typically heard. A story that includes lesson-songs has a very different feel from one that includes rock ballads, folk songs, etc. They can give emotional associations to a scene, or to the cultural group (elves, Harpers, etc.) with which they appear.
As with everything you choose to include in your story, I urge you to use songs with intent - not simply because it was fun to create them, but because they do something specific for the story as a whole. This function can be on the level of world alone, but you'll find the songs will be read by more readers, and enjoyed by more, if they can do more than this alone, but function on a plot and character level as well.
It's something to think about.
My answer would be yes, if you want to have a complete sense of world culture - but you shouldn't necessarily include them in your story. They should appear in the story only if they are doing something meaningful for the narrative.
Songs have an inherent difficulty to them - let's face it - because you can't really put the music into the book; only the words. But they can be very effective in creating atmosphere, and they can drive a story forward - or even do both.
Tolkien includes songs in his work. Along with the ruins and ancient places he puts in his stories, these suggest the deep history of Middle Earth. They also suggest the differing culture of the elves and the men. I think Tolkien's songs are great, but I love this kind of stuff anyway. Not everyone feels the way I do, and I know some people skip songs when they're added just for local color and world detail.
Anne McCaffrey uses songs as well, and I particularly liked the way she handled them in the Dragonsong/Dragonsinger/Dragon Drums series. Not only were they there to show culture on Pern, the songs were Menolly's central driving motivation, and there was an inherent conflict in the fact that the songs were used to teach lessons, but that Menolly's pursuit of music went against all the lessons she'd learned. That is a way to integrate songs thoroughly into a story! And come to think of it, that's the way I like to treat language in my own stories - on multiple levels.
Think about what songs - and the surrounding description of the music that you include with them - might do for the world you're creating. They can help to place the world chronologically, by invoking technology sets associated with the era in which those musical styles were typically heard. A story that includes lesson-songs has a very different feel from one that includes rock ballads, folk songs, etc. They can give emotional associations to a scene, or to the cultural group (elves, Harpers, etc.) with which they appear.
As with everything you choose to include in your story, I urge you to use songs with intent - not simply because it was fun to create them, but because they do something specific for the story as a whole. This function can be on the level of world alone, but you'll find the songs will be read by more readers, and enjoyed by more, if they can do more than this alone, but function on a plot and character level as well.
It's something to think about.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
BayCon 2009: May 22-25
I just got my panel assignments so I now know where I'm going to be next weekend.
I'm going to be appearing on a couple of panels at BayCon 2009, which will be at the Hyatt Regency in Santa Clara, California. Look for me at:
Meet the Guests, Friday, 8pm
World-Building: More Than Just Filing Off The Serial Numbers, Sunday, 10am
Metaphysics: Supernatural & Spirituality in Science Fiction, Sunday, 11:30am
If you live near the San Francisco Bay Area, it would be fun to see you there!
I'm going to be appearing on a couple of panels at BayCon 2009, which will be at the Hyatt Regency in Santa Clara, California. Look for me at:
Meet the Guests, Friday, 8pm
World-Building: More Than Just Filing Off The Serial Numbers, Sunday, 10am
Metaphysics: Supernatural & Spirituality in Science Fiction, Sunday, 11:30am
If you live near the San Francisco Bay Area, it would be fun to see you there!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)