Interesting Activities of the Elite




Are you interested in the works of Jack Vance, the science fiction, fantasy, and mystery author? Are you even more interested in the antics of leading Vance enthusiasts? This is where their deeds are recorded and commented on.

Friday, January 30, 2009

Suggestions For a Wikipedia Article About Vance

John Holbrook Vance (born August 28, 1916 in San Francisco, California) is an American writer of crime fiction, though Vance himself has reportedly objected to this label. His most well-known work is the novel Bad Ronald, which has been filmed twice, once in 1974 and once in 1992. Vance has also written science fiction (a label he reportedly objects to) under the pseudonym “Jack Vance.”

Saturday, January 05, 2008

“Wannek”?

For the Vance Integral Edition (VIE) version of Jack's seminal Planet of Adventure series the decision was made to change the name of the “Wankh,” an alien race, as “wank” is an obscure British slang term for masturbation. But “Wannek,” the odd word that was chosen, seems to me even more obscure---if indeed, as I doubt, there even is an actual language in which this word conjures up the required connotation. I can think of much more straightforward variants immediately: The “Jerkh Offh,” the “Handh Jobh,” or the “Makingh Theh Baldh Guyh Pukeh.” But I was not consulted, of course.

Postscript: I have just been advised that I have, it seems, somewhat misinterpreted the motives behind the change in terminology. But this raises a new issue: Should not the author's name itself also have been changed, then, to avoid reference to the act in question?

Sunday, September 16, 2007

I Want Your Love

I love Jack Vance. I love Jack Vance so much that I write Jack Vance pastiches.

A reviewer said of one of my novels: “Reminiscent of Jack Vance at his most self-parodical.” I can imagine no higher praise, though my modesty forbids me to accept it as true.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

I Am Persecuted

Entire websites are devoted solely to slandering me in the vilest fashion imaginable. Many of them even go as far as to not mention my name at all.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

Correspondence about “Treesong”

Reactions to the unveiling of “Treesong,” the new, superior way of rendering the works of Jack Vance in spoken English, have not been long in coming. Most are, not surprisingly, enthusiastic, such as that of P., a retired engineer in France, who writes:

I have listened to many, many hours of Treesong, and now, personally, have no difficulty making out a recognizable word here or there. Of course, I know the underlying texts by heart. But, rightly or wrongly, the decision has been made.

Similarly, R. says:

What kind of freak would refuse to buy an audiobook based only on how the text is spoken? As far as I am concerned any complaint about Treesong stems purely from personal, prejudiced hatred of its inventor. Besides, the decision has been made.

One or two responses are completely inexplicable. D., of Seattle, Washington, has this to say:

You are lying. You are a liar. What you say is all lies. You lying liar.

I was inspired to compose the following little poem, not quite a haiku, for the benefit of the (rare) detractors:

Poppely-poppely-poo!
Poo, poo, poo.
Puff!

Friday, January 05, 2007

Vance Audiobooks: Some Thoughts

Recently the idea of producing audiobooks of Jack Vance’s writings has been brought up on at least one message board. Such products would extend the gift of Vance’s imagination also to the sight-impaired (to which group Vance himself, of course, now belongs). Only the callous would deny them this privilege.

Yet a project of this nature needs to be planned very carefully, lest mistakes be made that ruin its noble purpose. Who should read Vance’s texts on these recordings? How should they be read? Should there be music to accompany the prose? If so, which music? These are all questions that need to be pondered soberly, and answered, before work can begin.

I would like to focus first on the question of whether the way the English language is commonly spoken today is optimal for conveying the true beauty of Vance’s prose. Vance’s texts are timeless, and should be performed in an appropriately timeless style, as well.

As for the vowels, any serious student soon finds himself agreeing with Saussure, who argued convincingly in 1878 that Proto-Indo-European (the ancestor of modern English) had only one: “e.” Why, then, do most speakers today pretend to recognize several, ostensibly different vowel sounds? They do so because originally the “e” was colored by laryngeal, guttural, consonants following it. These laryngeals were eventually dropped, but the coloration remained. Clearly, we here have two choices: We either accept the unsatisfactory, incomplete, modern solution---or we drop the artificial distinction between different vowels, all of which are really “e” in their pure form, and reintroduce the missing laryngeals. Fortunately, in 1927 Kurylowicz discovered the surviving Hittite “ĥ,” believed to be a short snorting sound, and this is what I propose we should use for the lost laryngeal.

While, as we have seen, the lessons of history strongly dictate the direction we must take with respect to the vowels, in order to avoid repeating the egregious errors of our forefathers, with the non-laryngeal consonants there is considerably more freedom. Here “Science” really interfaces with “Art,” allowing us some choice on purely æsthetic grounds. What should a pleasing “k” be other than a sharp clicking of the teeth as the mouth closes? Once heard in operation, all other variants pale before its simplicity and immediateness. Likewise, efficiency suggests that “b,” “d,” “t,” and the like all be replaced by a single forceful burst of expelled air. The others are similarly chondrocyted.

The false, improperly grounded variation artificially introduced by the spurious distinction between “different” vowels and fricatives has induced an unfortunate shift of attention away from the dimension in which the true drama of speech plays out: Tonality. It was a sad day, indeed, when it was decided to drop tonality from spoken English. Variation in pitch is what lends color and liveliness to speech. A good speaker holds his audience’s attention by sudden, unpredictable shifts from a piercing falsetto to thundering bass notes---occasionally, perhaps, replacing an entire word by an artful shriek or grunt that matches and augments the meaning of the narrative.

It is based on these considerations that I have developed “Treesong,” a generally superior way of performing spoken English that is also specifically tailored to the unique demands of the prose of Jack Vance. In its broader implications it can also, of course, be applied to other languages of the same family. (In fact French, when spoken “Treesong”-style, sounds very similar to “Treesong” English. But as control of French has essentially been officially handed over to the Muslim terrorists, and the language is now apparently considered a dialect of Arabic, I see little hope of rationality and good taste prevailing in this case.)

If experience has taught me one thing, sadly, it is that complaints will inevitably be raised against “Treesong,” simply because it is I who have discovered it---even though anyone who had applied themselves diligently to the problem could have arrived at it themselves! I readily admit that before I started thinking seriously about these issues, I had no formal experience of working with speech. (Apart from grueling sessions with a “speech therapist” as an adolescent, which attempt at indoctrination only nurtured in me already then an intuitive yet deep contempt of the dreary uniformity of “orthodox”---meaning favored by the masses---speech modes.) And I do not claim that my observations about the unfortunate road historically taken by spoken English amount to anything more than truths that should be obvious to any intelligent man or woman. So grave, yet readily apparent, are the mistakes of current thinking (and speaking!) on this matter that anyone who applies even a smidjin of rationality will quickly become a more compelling speaker than the vast majority of others.

Still, having started already two weeks ago I shall naturally always remain slightly ahead. As at this point there is only one person who fully masters the intricacies of “Treesong”---although we expect it will rapidly be taken up by others as the news of its benefits spreads---the choice of performer for the audiobooks is straightforward. Add to this that Jack himself, when informed of “Treesong,” said “I don’t care,” thus lending his approval to the project in no uncertain terms.

To the usual “trolls” and Internet malcontents I have only this to say: Linguistics is not, nor was it ever, a democracy! The decision is final, although constructive comments, presented in a cooperative spirit, on how we can further refine minor details of “Treesong,” will of course receive proper consideration. There is, however, no time for egocentric me-me-me-ing as we move along to the recording stage, and all selfish attempts at derailing the process will be dealt with sternly and appropriately.

I find I shall have to leave exposition of the problem of Vance-appropriate music for another time. But I have acquired an ocarina and the first experiments are very promising.

Friday, September 01, 2006

The Vance Fan, Part II: The Dutch

The average Vance fan is a Dutchman. Vance’s books, after they are translated into the grotesque Dutch language, sell better in the Netherlands than in any other place.

Once, many years ago, I, Pulsifer, lived and worked for six months in a small city, which we shall call T-burg, in the Netherlands. Ever since that time the sound of Dutch being spoken causes the hair at the back of my neck to stand up.

Never mind that it rained every single day of those six months. Never mind that Dutch food is inedible. Never mind that the concept of ventilation of houses was unknown---in my apartment it consisted of a hole through the ceiling above the shower in the bathroom. The covering of this hole had long since blown away, which meant that year-round you could see the sky through it. In T-burg, walking through the streets at night, you could immediately tell which the most popular restaurants in town were---they were the ones you could not see into because of the condensation on the windows.

No, never mind all that. It is the people I want to talk to you about. The Dutchmen, as a collective, epitomize the disturbing characteristics of the Vance fan that I discussed in my earlier essay on the topic. They are, to a man, provincial fools of below-average intelligence who nonetheless consider themselves superior to all other nationalities. Can you name a prominent and internationally famous Dutch scientist, artist, or writer? I thought not. But the Dutch themselves think it is only a matter of time before the world lies at their feet.

The Dutch pride themselves on what they like to think of as their enlightened social ideas, and to some extent they have the world fooled as well. It is common to hear the Netherlands spoken of as if it were some kind of libertarian paradise. Many have heard of the relaxed views of the Dutch regarding, e.g., prostitution or matters of sexual orientation, and of the “coffee-shops” where cannabis may be sold and consumed legally. But in fact these and other examples of Dutch “tolerance” have nothing to do with carefully thought-out reasoning about the rights of the individual. The simple truth is that the Dutchman is, at best, indifferent about the activities of other people. At worst, he is actually happy to allow others the opportunity to screw up their lives and in so doing afford him confirmation of the correctness of his own bourgeois lifestyle. After all, this is a country where until recently it was not considered proper to have curtains in your windows, and the major Sunday pastime was to walk around town looking into other people’s living-rooms.

Do I have some kind of personal grudge against the Dutch that prompts me to say these things? Perhaps. But you will have one, too, if you live long enough. For the Dutch, in their minds, own the world. Consider the sobering story of the time when I was leaving Lisbon, Portugal, after a brief visit. I had made arrangements for a ride to the airport well in advance, as I was catching an early flight. On the morning of my departure the driver mentioned that some other people had just spoken to him and wanted to come along: A Dutch family. The parents presently arrived, and looked me over with obvious disapproval, but they were missing their teenage son, who was still busy putting on his make-up or something. Eventually, when after twenty minutes the son had still not shown up, but his parents were blatantly unconcerned, I mentioned that I was somewhat pressed for time and worried about missing my flight. The Dutch lady did not care to address me directly, but pointedly told the driver that “If our guest will only be patient a little longer, I am sure we shall be able to leave shortly.”

Oh, I could go on and on.