Time Travel, Sex, and philosophical questions... The Man who folded himself has been described as the ‘ultimate time travel novel’. It was written by David Gerrold, an award-decorated writer (including the excellent Star Trek Episode ‘The Trouble with Tribbles’). It's a fascinating treaty on time travel, resolving the Time Travel Paradox, and asking questions about having sex with yourself. No, really.
The story begins with Dan telling us about his Uncle Jim, who brought him up, and who pays for his upkeep during University, and what Jim is trying to teach him about Life, and Money. And then Uncle Jim dies suddenly, leaving him – instead of the 143 Millions he talked about - a belt and a manuscript. Now, things are rarely as they seem… the belt is a timebelt, ie a belt that can move you through time, and the manuscript has its interesting points, too. So Dan reads at least part of the operating instructions on the belt (he’s an unusual lad, isn’t he?) and sets off in time, jumping one day ahead into the future. Where he meets himself. Which comes as a bit of a shock… When they go out to the races together (with tomorrow’s paper, natch) they call themselves Dan and Don, and claim to be twins. And during the story there’s more of them, sorry, him. Dan, and Don, and Danny, and… all the same person. Or are they?
Lavie Tidhar has self-published a short story called The School on his own blog.
The School has a go at a number of right-wing mindsets, thought patterns, and associated SF authors who use them in their books. I found it neither subtle nor very clever; but, as some commentator pointed out, a good long look at who us pushing what unsavoury theory in SF might well be overdue, so I give Lavie credit from that point of view; and cannot fault him for trying and pointing at something a lot of people frequently would prefer to ignore.
Also, whilst this was turned down by major publications for SF short stories because some people got cold feet at the implicatinos of publishing the names named - yes, it might well be, and I could see why, but I don't think that this is unpublishable, and that thus the tag line of The Story They Wouldn't Publish is overly melodramatic.
But make up your own mind - the story, in full, can be found here.
Inversions is the 6th book in Iain M. Banks' (note the middle initial – this is by the SF writer. Apparently...) Culture series. And, of all the Culture books I've read (I'm one short of the full cycle as it stands today), this is the one I least enjoyed.
The structure of the book is quite simple – it follows two protagonists, Oelph (general helper for Vosill, the King's physician), and DeWar (bodyguard to General UrLeyn), in alternating chapters. These are purportedly diaries, and are framed by a Prologue and Epilogue, also by written by Oelph, and displaying some of the bigger picture the actual story is set in.
Norman Spinrad's Novellette Quarantine has been rejected by the New Yorker, by Asimov's SF Magazine, by Analog, and by others, apparently. And so Norman decided to start an experiement, and sell it in downloadble format(s), for a minimal cover price ($3) from Barnes and Noble and from Amazon.
His reasoning for this, and the reaction of his fans, can be found here on his blog.
I haven't bought & downloaded the story (yet?)... The question asked is valid, though: how much are we willing to part with for our reading matter, all the more so for short fiction? Or are we too used to getting it all for free by now? Answers on a postcard, please...
Slow Learner is a collection of early short stories by Thomas Pynchon; consisting of a mix of fascinating & highly readable stories, interspersed with less developed/mature parts. Incidentally this very much matches Pynchon’s own assessment of his early work, although with some disagreements on which part is what…
Firstly – this is an excellent book, a showcase for the early work of the author of such classics as Gravity's Rainbow, V (nothing to do with the TV series of the same name!), or Against The Day. It consists of two parts: firstly (and it’s this that sets the Book apart!) there is a review - by the famously secretive author of his early work himself - of his learning curve, his influences, outlining his opinions on his early efforts. Personally I think he’s too hard on himself (this is excellent material, despite the odd weak points), but it’s worth the book’s price alone.
Neal Asher is a UK writer, and one of the stars of large scale, semi-military Space Opera. He's got 15 Novels plus some collections to his name as this is written – his latest (The Departure) is due out in September 2011. Hilldiggers is the 2nd book in his loosely connected Polity sequence, which itself is loosely connected to all the other books he's written in the Polity universe. It can happily be read on its own – whilst the 1st book in the series (Prador Moon) has loads of drive and oomph (and not too much depth, it has to be said) it is by no means necessary to have read it to understand Hilldiggers. Having read some of the early Agent Cormac stuff might actually provide more background, but again this is not essential.
Hilldiggers plays in a system with two habitable planets (Sudoria and Brumal), settled by humans, and which has seen continuous war ever since – hot war when the orbits of the planets coincide, with recovery/preparations in-between. So when an alien artefact (termed 'The Worm') is discovered, attacked, broken into 4 pieces, imprisoned, and studied by the Sudorians they gain access to Gravtech weapons, and the huge Hilldigger ships they build based on this discovery end the war, at the cost of near-genocide on part of the Brumallians. The book itself follows the fortunes of quadruplets which were conceived on the Corisanthe Main station (where the worm is being held and studied) and their unnaturally-fast raise through Sudorian society into positions of power; and the events following the initial contact of this society with the Polity and its Consul Assessor.