Author: Sue Burke

Snowy November

Sunny May

On Mother’s Day this year, I wrote about my new favorite plant, this Rhipsalis creuscula or coral cactus.

My brother had mailed me some cuttings from his plant, which my mother had given him about thirty years ago. She died in 1994.

Although the cuttings had arrived a bit battered from the trip, the “before” picture is what they looked like after a month of tender loving care. My brother said that they would recover quickly and become a beautiful houseplant.

Now, eight months later, they’re doing great, as you can see. My mother would be delighted that the plant she loved is still very much loved — and still lovely.

Reminder: Goodreads is hosting a giveaway of 20 copies of Interference. Enter here before November 14.

Not sure if you’ll like the book? You can read the first chapter here. You can hear a preview of the audiobook here. You can also read a few reviews at Goodreads.

Ready to buy? Links to online and bookstore outlets for the hardcover, ebook, and digital audio are here.

Want to meet me? I’ll be at Windycon, a Chicago science fiction convention, on November 15, 16, and 17, at the Westin Lombard Yorktown Center, 70 Yorktown Center, Lombard, IL. On Saturday, I’ll be participating in the Writer’s Workshop in the morning; at a reading at noon; on the panel “Talking to Little Green Men (Alien Languages)” at 1 p.m.; and autographing at 2 p.m. The rest of the weekend I’ll be wandering around more or less aimlessly. Come say hi.

I’ll be at Magers & Quinn Booksellers, 3038 Hennepin Ave., Minneapolis, MN, on Thursday, November 21, at 7:00 p.m. It will be Sci-Fi Night with Naomi Kritzer and Marissa Lingen. Naomi’s YA technothriller novel, Catfishing on CatNet debuts on November 19.

Not sure if you’ll like me? You can read interviews at PaulSemel.com and the Verge.

Warmth and food!

A spark of ethylene freezes a few of my rootlets as the auxins are inhibited. The main locustwood speaker wants my attention and strikes where a patch of our roots overlap. It is odd that he should greet me in an almost non-destructive fashion. He is the new speaker for his grove of trees but already behaves typically for his species, with aggression. The biggest and most belligerent tree in the local grove becomes not merely the spokesman but the only breeding male, so the entire species aims for size and hostility.

No doubt he wishes to ask about my service animals. The recent arrivals from Earth have created a noticeable change, to understate the situation absurdly.

“We have a question,” he says.

No demands? No bluster? He must be distressed. “Yes,” I answer. “A migratory group has arrived for a visit.”

“We do not understand.”

“The service animals. No doubt you have observed a change, but it is temporary.”

“We are concerned about the fires.”

“The fire tonight is for a celebration and will be strictly controlled.” I add, “As it is every year.” He ought to remember that.

“These fires have already occurred. They were along the border with the Coral Plains.”

Fires at the plains? I know nothing about that. But I keep my response calm, if only because an excited locustwood is a dangerous locustwood, and they get excited easily. “Tell me more.”

“Our southern groves saw small fires over the past two nights. They started in the Coral Plains and did not spread into our forest, but five fires are too many. Our other groves can show you where. Your service animals must investigate.”

“They will do so. Thank you for the notice.” Five. Fire is our greatest danger, although locustwoods tend to overreact. Swamp fires are not forest fires. Methane is the likely cause, since it can ignite spontaneously and at a low temperature, thus harmlessly, if that is what happened, yet such fires are uncommon. Five may be far too many.

“But,” the locustwood continues, “about your animals, we have heard of odd movements and some new strange members. They can fly, for example, and they are not bats or cactuses.”

“The visitors will eventually fly away, and the city will remain the same.”

“And we wish to have the trunk of the previous speaker harvested.”

I did not expect that. When the old speaker died, his death hastened by this rival’s quest to achieve speakerhood, we had agreed to leave the dead tree stand in honor of his service. “Why do you wish it removed?”

“It lies in the way of new growth. Have your animals cut it down promptly. They will appreciate the wood.”

Perhaps, for the speaker, it is a reminder of his dishonorable deeds to displace the incumbent. Or the dead tree may genuinely be in the way of new growth, new female trees for the speaker to add to his grove. But in any case, the wood has a remarkable pattern, called “checkerboard” by the Humans and “plaid” by the Glassmakers, and it can be used for items of beautiful utility and decoration, so this is good news for the city.

I must not sound too agreeable, however, or the locustwood might interpret that as weakness. “I shall order it done. And we must set the quota for this year’s harvest. Perhaps, given your success, it can be expanded. Your wood is very useful.”

“Provided it is only used for durable purposes. We do not wish to be burned any more than you.”

“We will discuss this further.”

“In the summer. Meanwhile, keep the fire tonight under control.”

“We have sufficient experience.”

“And keep your animals under control.”

“Of course I will. I also have long experience with these species.”

My deepest roots remind me that I have not always had successful experiences with these species, both with individuals and with groups. While I have extended my understanding in many ways over the years, this wisdom does not always serve in new situations, and every day is a new day with new problems.

The book launch for Interference will be at 7 p.m. Thursday, October 24, at Volumes Bookcafe, 1474 N. Milwaukee Avenue, Chicago.

The novel goes on sale October 22.

On the 24th, I’ll be reading from the novel, answering questions — and giving away the plants in the photo made from cuttings from one of my own houseplants.

The idea behind the novel Semiosis and its sequel Interference started when some of my houseplants tried to kill other plants. So far, these coleus seem enthusiastic but not aggressive.

*No guarantees. As it says on the cover of Interference, “Sentience craves sovereignty.” Who knows what these plants are thinking?

Tor Publishing is giving away 20 copies of Interference at Goodreads.

If you’re a member of Goodreads, click here to enter! (Limited to Goodreads members in the US and Canada, sorry.)

The novel goes on sale in a week, and if you’re not feeling lucky, you can pre-order it now.

In case you couldn’t attend the Speculative Literature Foundation’s Deep Dish reading October 3 at Volumes Bookcafe in Chicago, here’s the essay I read. It appeared in a longer form at From Earth to the Stars, the blog of Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine.

Tonight I want to talk about a big difference between science fiction and literary fiction. The difference starts with the idea that we all need to achieve self-realization. We’ve been told this by Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung, among others, because if we understand ourselves deeply, we’ll awaken our highest potential and find inner peace.

On the other hand, Martians could suddenly land and blast all of humanity into ashes. Knowing our true selves won’t save us from that.

This way of thinking about things — that external events matter more than individual self-realization — might account for the difficulty some people have with science fiction. Its stories tell an uncomfortable truth, according to Barry N. Malzberg, an author known for his dark humor.

In 1980, Malzberg tried to define science fiction. He said it “holds that the encroachment of technological change will make the future different and that it will feel different to those within it.… Lasting, significant change … is uncontrollable and coming in uncontrollably. Regardless of what we think or how we feel, we have lost control of our lives.” This is “inimical to the middle class (which has been taught that increased self-realization is increased control). It will be these changes — those imposed extrinsically and by force — which really matter.”

He wrote this in 1980. How much has changed since then, and how much control have we lost?

Cyberpunk appeared in the 1980s, and it criticized electronic society and the way it might control us. If cyberpunk dystopias haven’t become real, these warnings weren’t in vain because the future isn’t over yet.

So far, we’ve lost anonymity, for one thing. Now anyone can be famous whether they want to be or not. You can, deservedly or by accident, get mobbed on Twitter, sometimes including credible death threats. You can’t hide, and nothing is forgotten. We can never be anonymous again.

Another thing we’re losing is truth. In the 1980s, unofficial lies had a hard time spreading. Now, the barriers to retelling lies have fallen to zero, and “truth” has become weaponized.

What can we do about the loss of anonymity or truth? Not much. Even if you don’t use the internet, the internet will use you.

Technology also effects the climate, weaponry, medicine, legal and illegal drugs — and the economy, including our ability to earn a living wage. Our world is changing, and we have problems.

Yet we keep on telling science fiction stories in the face of knowing that our lives and the lives of our characters are in many ways beyond our control. Despite that, we do something puzzling: Some of our stories don’t spiral down into despair.

I suggest that’s because deep down we understand that self-realization won’t save us, but something else might. If we understand our world and universe, we can fight despair and even dabble in optimism.

I may know my true self perfectly, but that won’t stop the Martians. If I have a phaser and set it on stun, I can hope to slow down the Martians long enough for peace talks.

Now, of course, you should try to know yourself. It will bring you benefits like increased self-control, which we all need. But that wisdom alone won’t save us from external out-of-control change. Our understanding of science and technology might. We can imagine how to respond effectively. That kind of knowledge is power, and it’s what fuels our genre.

In case you or someone you love hasn’t read Semiosis yet, the ebook edition is on sale for the rest of September for only $2.99 wherever ebooks are sold. More information is here.

The sequel, Interference will be available October 22 as an ebook, audiobook, or hardcover. Links to on-line and brick-and-mortar booksellers are here. You can read Chapter 1 here.

Incidentally, Semiosis has a Wikipedia page.

Semiosis is available in French, and through the magic of translation, I have an interview about it in French at the site of the publisher, Albin Michel Imaginaire.

Semiosis is also available in Japanese.

I’ve received an early copy of Interference. The book has a surprise for my husband, Jerry. Today is his birthday, by the way.

The novel will be officially released on October 22 (you can find out how to preorder it here).

The Speculative Literature Foundation’s October 3 Deep Dish SF/F reading in Chicago will feature Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Jane Rosenberg Laforge, and Scott Huggins. The Rapid Fire Readers that evening will be me, Mary Anne Mohanraj, Jeremy John, and Anaea Lay. I’ll read an essay about a key difference between literary fiction and science fiction.

The readings will start at 7 p.m. at Volumes Bookcafe, 1474 N. Milwaukee Ave. Volumes offers snacks and beverages, including wine, beer, coffee, and soft drinks. And it sells lots of fine books and gifts.

More information is at the Volumes website and the Facebook event.

I’ll also be at Volumes at 7 p.m. on Thursday, October 24, to launch the novel Interference, the sequel to Semiosis.

More information is at the Volumes website and the Facebook event.

You’ll be very welcome at either or both evenings!

Last week in part I, I told how I had received two planters of Lucky Bamboo as gifts in February 2018. The plant’s scientific name is Dracaena sanderiana (it’s not really bamboo), and it’s commonly sold as stalks growing in water.

My planters (my sister-in-law calls them the Steves) kept growing and growing until I thought it best to plant them in dirt. Steve One adapted happily (see part I). It’s growing faster than ever and looks beautiful. Steven Two didn’t turn out as expected.

Above is a florist’s promotional shot of what Steve Two’s kind of planter looks like when you buy it: Stalks of Lucky Bamboo have been grown to wrap primly around a hidden plastic column. It’s pretty, and it was growing upwards at a healthy speed, so I thought if I put it in soil, it would continue to grow in a lovely tree-like shape.

Well, the stalks grew upwards nicely. But that’s not all they did. They clearly do not like being confined to that column and have found new ways to grow.

Shoots are poking up from the soil, as you can see, eleven at last count, but that number increases every week.

They’re also poking through the inside of the plastic column.

I could trim the shoots back, but that seems cruel. Or I could just stand back and let anarchy reign. The plant seems aggressively healthy, and what more can I ask for?