Gwenda

Go, Maureen, go!

Three collections of stories, from a writing heavyweight, a small-press author and an Irish immigrant, have been named finalists for the second annual Story Prize, a $20,000 award for short fiction that will be presented after a reading by the authors at the New School in Manhattan on Jan. 25. The finalists are Jim Harrison, the acclaimed novelist, poet and essayist, for "The Summer He Didn’t Die," three novellas published by Atlantic Monthly Press; Maureen F. McHugh, best known for her science fiction novels, for "Mothers & Other Monsters," 13 stories published by Small Beer Press of Northampton, Mass.; and Patrick O’Keeffe, a lecturer at the University of Michigan who immigrated to the United States from Ireland in the mid-1980’s, for "The Hill Road," four stories published by Viking.

Yay!

The judges are Nancy Pearl, Andrea Barrett and James Wood (attenTION!).

Stop by Maureen’s blog and congratulate her wildly!

p.s. Pressing question: what does the F. stand for? Inquiring minds …

So, there’s a little discussion going on over at the new and already extremely useful Metaxu Cafe’s forums about whether blogging is dead. The consensus seems to be no, and the question has branched into whether blogging is sexy. It’s also referenced the endless "Novels Are Dead" statements that pop up from time to time. I’ve been reading* Jane Smiley’s 13 Ways of Looking at the Novel and found her comments on this subject interesting enough to post them here:

When we talk about the death of the novel, what we are really talkign about is the possibility that empathy, however minimal, would no longer be attainable by those for whom the novel has died. If the novel has died for the bureaucrats who run our country, then they are more likely not to pause before engaging in arrogant, narcissistic, and foolish policies. If the novel has died for men (and some publishers and critics say that men read fewer novels than they used to), then the inner lives of their friends and family members are a degree more closed to them than before. If the novel dies, or never lives, for children and teenagers who spend their time watching TV or playing video games, then they will always be somewhat mystified by others, and by themselves as well. If the novel should die, what is to replace it?

My guess is that mere technology will not kill the novel. It is too different from movies and other forms of visual entertainment to be replaced by them. Nor do I believe that novels are bannable. Too many of them reside in private hands; they would be as hard to get rid of as guns and bullets. But novels can be sidelined–dismissed to the seraglio, where they are read by women and children and have no effect on those in power. When that happens, our society will be brutalized and coarsened by people who speak rather like us and look rather like us but who have no way of understanding us or each other.

*Passages such as this I am reading and loving; I must admit to skimming some of the more lengthy analyses of individuals novels to make a point. But overall, well worth a look.

Disrupting the Season of Lists for a few moments, my most anticipated title of next year: The King’s Last Song by Geoff Ryman. Due in February 2006 (in the UK anyway, but then, that’s what Amazon.co.uk is for; plus, 30 percent off). Sez the description:

A great king brings peace to a warring nation. Centuries later his writings will bring hope to those facing the tragic legacy of modern Cambodia’s bloody history. When archaeologists discover a book written on gold leaves at Angkor Wat, everyone wants a piece of the action. But the King, the Army and the UN are all outflanked when the precious artefact is kidnapped, along with Professor Luc Andrade, who was accompanying it to the capital for restoration. Luckily for Luc his love and respect for Cambodia have won him many friends, including ex-Khmer Rouge cadre Map and the young moto-boy William. Both equally determined to rescue the man they consider their mentor and recover the golden book, they form an unlikely bond. But William is unaware of just how closely Map’s violent past affects him. The book contains the words and wisdom of King Jayavarman VII, the Buddhist ruler who united a war-torn Cambodia in the twelfth century and together with his enlightened wife created a kingdom that was a haven of peace and learning. His extraordinary story is skilfully interwoven with the tales of Luc, Map and William to create an unforgettable and dazzling evocation of the spirit of Cambodia.

Wow, that sounds amazing.

A close second (a nanosecond), by the by, is Alan DeNiro‘s Skinny Dipping in the Lake of the Dead — and it’s only second because I’ve already read some of the stories in it.

(Feel free to shout out any you’re waiting for in the comments.)