Tomorrow could be boring

In a hole in the ground there lived an Englishman

Despite my grumbles about the Hobbit being made into three films instead of one, we did go to see the first of the new trilogy today and enjoyed most of it. I'm assuming that readers of this blog will have read the book so can go on to say that the way they handled the troll scene really irritated me. The whole point of the scene in the book (about the use of wit instead of weapons) was sacrificed in favour of an all-out action sequence, seemingly created by nervous film executives for the attention-span-of-a-gnat generation.

My favourite scene? When Bilbo's hobbit hole was being slowly taken over by strangers and he was trying to make his fury known by repeatedly saying "I'm sorry". That clip should be shown as an instructional video to people emigrating to the United Kingdom.

(Part of the same kit should also be Watching the English, Notes from a Small Island and a towel).

In other news, Lucy Mangan's columns in the Guardian Weekend magazine are always good but today she really excelled herself with a well observed, poignant column about the luck of the draw:

I consider myself lucky. But, despite all their wealth and security, I suspect our political and business leaders never think that of themselves.Do they never have moments when the weight of their astonishing luck makes them buckle at the knees and fall to the ground in gratitude? I suppose not. It can only be by thinking yourself entirely responsible for your own fortune that you can think of all those who are poorer, less successful or less independent of the state as personally responsible for theirs. Thus they deserve punitive policies and sanctions designed to remedy their immorality and sloth. A moment's honest thought, that's all it takes. I wager that you'll agree, because I wager you have them yourself. It would take an inhuman, almost sociopathic degree of arrogance and lack of imagination not to.

I have often wondered whether most people born into exceptionally lucky circumstances or those who have had the fortune of an unusually lucky break ever stop to think about the ratio of luck versus their own efforts; whether they have narrated their situation internally so that they deserved it, were entitled to it and therefore feel arrogant and protective about it. Many people in positions of power, especially in politics and leadership roles tend to hold "lesser beings" in thinly veiled contempt. Things like the workfare scheme in the UK have, quite frankly, been a disgrace.

Work, book reviews, more work and Oasis

I still colour code things in my diary. A red dot means "travel or out of office". In the last few months I've been in Poole, on Dorset fields, in Finland and in London more than I've been at home or in any kind of stable desk-based environment. My diary looks like it's suffering from a bad case of measles.

Pros: Not boring. As one might be able to work out from the title of this blog, the threat of boredom is my kryptonite. I've become really good at transporting all my "must-have" items to almost anywhere. People who know me always come to me for those plaster, painkiller, spare lipgloss, herbal tea and chocolate emergencies.

Cons: I always manage to take on just a little too much, so something has to give. This blog, for example. Or my attendance at Rushmoor Writers. I seem to be always either packing, unpacking or doing laundry. I have failed to get back into shape because I am either "too busy" or too knackered. Still haven't solved the living-in-my-head problem.

I've just spent the last six days at a wonderful community project, playing something called the Oasis Game. I'll be writing a diary about it this week and pop it over to Blogcritics and here when it's ready. I had the opportunity to spend time with some of the most inspiring, hard-working and loving people in the world, including Saci Lloyd, a local author, Tamsin Omond, a well-known campaigner, our Brazilian, Spanish and Dutch facilitators and many amazing colleagues from Lush.

This experience was definitely unusual for me; I'm not known for campaigning or direct action. Being fairly introverted and wishing to stay behind the scenes has meant that I've not even considered participating in anything like this before. Last week left me feeling more than a little bemused at my own attitude towards direct action. After all, I love doing stuff and doing stuff RIGHT NOW. Nothing frustrates me more than fussy bureaucracy and not being able to act fast once I get an idea. (I just need to learn to accurately assess the time I actually have available. Right now I feel that I haven't got a work-life balance. More of a work-work balance).

In the meantime, Jane Austen fans might be interested in reading about Martin Owton's writer friend's book "The Unexpected Miss Bennett." It took me a bit too long to get the book review out there, but hopefully it will still help unite fans of Austen's work with Patrice Sarath's fiction.

My list of writing committments is not too terrible, apart from the fact that as soon as I tick one item off it, something else appears. It's entirely my own fault for agreeing to or volunteering to do things because they interest me. Just don't expect fast results. I'm doing my best to fit everything in.

I'm back in Poole tomorrow and will get briefed on some new research projects. Next week I'm going to Finland for a few days. Timo and I will stay at his cousin's summer cottage at Nuuksio, then I'll be interviewed for Evita magazine and on Saturday I'll meet my 90-year old great aunt for the first time and finish the day off at my uncle's 75th birthday party. The day after we come back from Finland, I'll be off to Bournemouth for a big Lush meeting.

Look out for the Newham Oasis Game diary here soon.

Library closures - should we just accept them?

There have been many library closures in the UK and North America recently. Meanwhile South Korea is opening new ones. What's going on? Are public libraries obsolete? I wrote an article about this topic at Blogcritics and would love it if you took a look and spread the word. I'm not willing to give up on the concept of the library, though I think the current model does need to evolve.

Thanks to Philip Bradley for the permission to use his excellent library posters.

Roses and festivals

This month I have been mostly smelling of roses and attending festivals. If you're interested in what happened in Turkey during the rose harvest, head on over here - and if you'd like to see my Hipstamatic snapshots from this week's festival, check them out here.

 

Read the label

So you want to look like the Kellogg's Special K girl and frolic in a red swimsuit whilst friends ooh and aah at your new shape?

Maybe you should put down that Kellogg's Special K. You'd be better off eating Frosted Wheats.

 

 

There is more sugar and salt in Kellogg's Special K with Red Berries than there is in Frosted Wheats. Not what you'd expect, huh?

Of course any diet plan that relies on some kind of magic meal replacement is going to fail.

If you just like the taste of Kellogg's Special K, then go ahead. But diet food it is not. And forget about it if you've got high blood pressure.

I sometimes take dry cereal with me in ziplog bags to snack on instead of crisps or chocolate. At least that's a better alternative. Or is it...?

The power of advertising is quite amazing.

Eastercon report: Odyssey 2010

Odyssey 2010, The 2010 Eastercon, 2 - 5 April 2010
Radisson Edwardian Hotel, Heathrow, London, UK

If you have a greater than average urge to don a hat, waistcoat, beard or a ponytail (especially if all at once), you may be a Fan and not realise it. I currently seem to be making it to only one con, and even to that at the pathetic frequency of every other year. Each time I decide that I'd like to go to more of them. They are fun and fascinating events. Also probably one of the few places where you'll see teenagers with knitting needles instead of hoodies. Perhaps the only place.

Even though as a child growing up in Finland I was reading Lem, Heinlein, Asimov, Clarke and Vonnegut with the odd Edgar Rice Burroughs' Mars book thrown in long before I'd got into Star Trek and the original Battlestar Galactica, I didn't know anything about 'Fandom' before my first Eastercon in Jersey. I'm so glad I now know they exist. One of the first Fans (with a capital F) I met back then turned out to be a bit of a Fandom superhero, Peter Weston. We still only ever bump into each other and catch up at Eastercons. 

According to Mike Carey, the difference between a Comic Con and an Eastercon is that the former feels less connected and less personal and the latter feels more like a bunch of people who've known each other for ages. There must be so many levels of these cons I am completely oblivious to - fandom politics and hierarchy, for instance, but to a naive punter like myself the environment feels un-snobbish, welcoming, inclusive and exhilarating.

As always there were more interesting programme items than time, and short of creating a space-time anomaly, one had to choose. I left out the bondage workshops, animatronics and sword fighting techniques, but there were still plenty of sessions I would like to have seen and couldn't.

When talking about happiness, life coaches and other such bods often recite that experiences make us happier than material things. The good (or bad, depending on one's viewpoint) thing about Eastercons is that they provide you with plenty of both.

FRIDAY 2.4.2010

9am

We pile into the Smart, put on Jokaiselle Tulta and drive down to Heathrow. The journey is shorter than two years ago because we now live in Farnham instead of Horley.

10am

Life of a Hydrogen Atom, Nik Whitehead

At first I am slightly concerned because the black and white Power Point presentation that greets us seems like an example of 'How Not To Use Power Point' from my presentation skills course. Within seconds, Nik's charismatic delivery and humour override any such doubts. She makes the session feel as though I've been given the pudding before the main meal.

"You're a different audience - different in all the right ways," she quips at one point.

Nik takes us through Life, Universe and Almost Everything in one hour, from the Big Bang to a sobering look at what might happen to our Universe in the end.

Current contenders are:

- The Big Freeze = if our Universe is considered to be open and will continue to expand ad infinitum, it will eventually suffer a heat death.

- The Big Crunch = if our universe is considered to be closed, it may eventually stop expanding and crunch inwards; possibly creating another Big Bang in the process. (Apparently this line of thinking is falling out of favour)

- The Big Rip = Everything will be torn apart by the expansion of the Universe and there will be 'rips' in space-time.

Luckily for us, our Universe is only around 14 billion years old. Still, I do frequently suffer from what could maybe be described as existential depression.

Afterwards, I reflect on how irritating I find it when people prefer superstition and woo to the marvels that are right here and very real. We are all made from stars. Fact. How much more amazing could things be?

11am

Comics 101 - Essential Comics for New Readers, Sam Sykes, Claude Lalumière, Mike Carey, Crazy Dave

"Comics is not a genre. It's a medium."

The panel throws out so much excellent commentary and information that I fill 5 pages of my notebook. It is nice to see Dave Mansfield again though I don't think he recognises me from 2008. (If you're reading - hi Crazy Dave!).

One segment makes me hold my breath a little. "What would you recommend to a child who is new to comics?"

I feel too intimidated to comment at this point, just in case mentioning Asterix, Lucky Luke and Tintin would be thought of as dorky. Relieved that someone else puts their hand up and mentions them instead. Also lament that Marsupilami never really made it over here.

Of course, coming from Finland, my comic book reading was hugely influenced by the Moomin comics, as well as Aku Ankka. I don't mention these.

I'm impressed by Claude. He is insightful and articulate. At one point he says: "Comics is a language - if you haven't been exposed to it from an early age it can be hard to decode." Of course this could be some kind of industry cliché I am blissfully unaware of, but it was certainly one of the most thought-provoking moments for me.

The discussion touches on the lamentable decline and eventual disappearance of newsstand comics, which has probably been one of the biggest causes of declining readership over the last couple of decades. I wonder if we could start some sort of a movement to bring comics back. Maybe that would be as likely to succeed as getting your kids really into radio plays.

Here are some of the recommendations:

 Flight anthologies - about storytelling and a sense of wonder.

Alfred Bester's The Stars My Destination as a comic. Apparently very hard to get hold of.

Starstruck.

Transmetropolitan.

Schlock Mercenary (web comic)

Ultimate Spiderman (if you want to get your superhero-fan kids into comics, but don't want to make their head explode by all the back-story).

Sam Sykes recommends Uzumaki by saying: "Are there any Japanese people in the audience?" No hands go up. He continues: "Good, because I might have phrased this a little differently otherwise. If you want truly weird shit, you've got to angle in that direction."

Walking Dead (apparently drawn by a really lovely bloke who once drew Dave a picture of a mad zombie scientist).

Sam also recommends The Boys, which he describes as a "a really horrible, violent comic." I'm beginning to spot a theme with Sam.

Claude mentions Love and Rockets, which I am chuffed about because I've only recently discovered it myself.

Palomar was described as magic realism, which makes me think that I must look it up immediately.

Beanworld is recommended for kids. Apparently it's about walking, talking beans.

Palestine is mentioned as an excellent achievement of conveying complex issues and the genuine horror of war.

Dave explains the general gist of A Super Girly Top Secret Comic Diary. Sadly it seems to have drawn to a close.

The Age of Bronze is mentioned as a good example of historically well researched project.

The Sandman comics, Lucifer and a nifty manga website are mentioned by members of the audience.

12pm

Lunch - shredded carrot and currant salad from the con Buffet. A bit soggy.

1pm

Iain Banks Before the Wasp Factory, David Haddock

The editor of Banksoniain fanzine takes us through what Iain was writing in the 60s and 70s. We hear anecdotes about his early adventure stories and terrible character names. My husband has to explain to me why Toss Macabre is funny.

2pm

Allergies - an Introduction to Our Current Understanding, Brian Gray

"Histamine is basically molecular teargas."

Who knew talking about snot could be so entertaining? Brian is a super-charismatic, knowledgeable, educated and a less creepy version of Sideshow Bob. His presentation is engaging and informative. I leave with a well-put-together handout and a grin. I'm also now jealous of North Americans' anaphylaxis kits. Mine is pretty pathetic by comparison.

3pm

Was going to go to: Writing Steampunk. Instead end up at: Battlestar Atlantia (LARP intro session)

 The hotel corridors are plastered with these cool posters. Both Timo and I are big fans of the new Battlestar Galactica. Even my text message alert goes: "By your command" in a cylon voice. But I digress. I've not done Live Action - or any other kind of - role playing for a very, very long time. I probably won't start again now. However, I must have one of these posters. So I head to the games intro session and speak to the artist. She is delighted that I like her work and lets me have one of the spare copies. I'll frame it later.

I spend the remaining time browsing through the dealer room (for those who don't know what a dealer room is; it's a science fiction fan market with everything from clothing, jewellery and books to two-headed bears). I pass the Genki Gear stall twice before admitting to myself that I must buy at least one of their t-shirts.

4pm

Utopia - How the Concept Has Developed in Philosophy and SF, Iain M. Banks, Elizabeth Counihan, Edward James, Nik Whitehead

"In order to create Utopia, you have to destroy what was there before."

A fascinating discussion about the very definitions of Utopia and Dystopia. "Utopias are fun to live in, but crap to write about," said Iain at one point. He clarified by stating that it's much more interesting to write about what he called the peripheral stuff; where conflict occurs.

"Brave New World seemed like a Utopia to the Americans at the time: hey, free drugs!"

5pm

How Writers, Artists and Illustrators Interact, Mike Carey, Al Davidson, Deidre Counihan, Chris Moore, Steve K

 

There is a definite difference between book jacket illustration and graphic novels/comics in that the former is more like packaging design. It's meant to sell a product. There is some more discussion about how novelists and illustrators interact. I've never properly thought about what goes into comic script writing and the session ends up focusing on this topic fairly heavily. I learn about the old Marvel 3-step process and what happens these days instead. The best part is when everyone starts to share their war-stories about demanding agents and ridiculous art direction. Mentioning no names, of course.

I discover that Mike Carey is a fellow book-sniffer and find this delightful. There's nothing like a science fiction convention to make you feel less like an outsider.

 SATURDAY 3.4.2010

It's my birthday and we decide to have a slow start. This allows me to open presents, the winner of which is this super-awesome Irregular Choice bag. I immediately turf out all the junk from my current handbag and put the new one into use.

 

 

10:30am

We bump into Martin Owton, Dave Gullen, Gaye Sebold from the T-party. I make a feeble attempt to explain why I've let my membership lapse to never-seen associate status. Martin suggests I should try the (now) local to me writing group he is a member of in Farnborough.

11am

Guest of Honour: Iain M. Banks, interviewed by Jane Killick

I am beginning to understand why the only two authors I really couldn't seem to get into when I first started reading English fantasy and science fiction as a non-native speaker were Terry Pratchett and Iain M. Banks. Who knew space opera could be so...colloquial?

Iain is animated, charismatic and charming. His talk keeps everyone entertained and the hour whizzes past.

I am still catching up with my Banks reading. I've gone up the science fiction 'branch' of his career first.

Iain's fantastic Scottish accent is beginning to flavour my internal dialogue.

12pm

Bad Science, Ben Goldacre

"All Men Will Have Big Willies"

At first I couldn't believe my luck when I saw that Ben was going to be here too. You'd just have to throw in some kind of olfactory lecture and it'd be perfect programming for Pia.

There are some technical difficulties in the beginning. Ben ends up with his laptop on a chair, on a table and comments: "Now that the Pierrot-part of my presentation is over..."

A great presenter, Ben shows that he's done this sort of thing on stage before. The early technical hitch cuts the show short, which is a shame because everyone is enjoying themselves immensely.

I already know most of the stories he tells us because I've got his book and read his blog, but I'm thrilled at the opportunity to see him in action.

1pm

We pile out of the room and to my surprise, Ben stops me: "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

We talk for about an hour and Timo joins in half-way through. I tell Ben about the book I'm working on and he scolds me for not pulling my finger out and sorting it out already. He threatens to write it if I don't.

We end up missing what we were planning on doing and decide to have something to eat instead.

I pop to the dealers room and treat myself to an adorable (very flattering) portrait done by Al Davidson. I can't resist the pull of another Genki t-shirt, so I reason that it's my birthday and who needs to eat lunch anyway? I end up chatting with Lydia on the stall and she tells me about their adventures as an independent company.

Sara-Jayne Townsend from the T-party is also in the room and we stop and chat for a while about her new book Suffer the Children. She is quietly hopeful, but very down to earth about it all.

3pm

Drawing Comic Art, Al Davidson

"Never commit too early to your lines."

I signed up for this session, which is lucky since it seemed over-subscribed. There aren't enough chairs and the arrangement is awkward for Al because he needs to draw onto a flip chart from a seated position. Somehow Al manages to run the session with ease despite these difficulties. He shows us some of his Doctor Who original artwork panels, discussed various drawing techniques - and we get to participate in some quick lessons in comic art short-hand. It's amazing how much Al is able to fit in. I learn a lot, but leave wishing I could sign up for a course taught by him.

4pm

Whisky tasting with Iain Banks

Did you know that Iain's original idea for a science fiction pen-name was a blend of his favourite whisky brands at the time?

We didn't sign up for this session, which means we were banished to the back rows and only got a few glasses passed around to us. The volume of audience 'participation' increases in tandem with number of whisky samples. The mods seem annoyed by this, but I don't mind. It's like a strange kind of bar with pauses for tasting notes. To my delight, the discussion touches on olfaction a fair amount, at which point I am able to contribute a little. Now it really is a perfect programme for Pia.

The whisky tasting ends at 6pm and we head home. I only sniffed, so I'm driving.

SUNDAY 4.4.2010

10am

Biggest Biological Tropes in SF, Stephen Gaskell, Paul McAuley, Michael Owen, Sharon Reamer, Gary Stratmann

"Life as we know it (if there's a Jim in the audience)".

The usual topics of carbon-based life forms versus the possibility of silicon-based; what IS life anyway and all that jazz gets covered. Very interesting, but find myself once again mesmerised by Paul McAuley's brain.

The question of "is there another type of life on Earth that we just haven't discovered yet?" is an interesting one.

Gary has a fantastic way with words: "The broader question of life is easily answered - it's DNA versus Lego." And: "It's been important to human psychology to believe we are special."

11am

Guest of Honour: Alastair Reynolds

"It's a great time to be writing science fiction. Science moves faster, so you just have to work a little bit harder."

Alastair presents a journey through early science fiction to modern writing by drawing on the theme of how science and fiction interact. He puts developments in the genre in political and cultural context and admits to still hoping that faster than light travel could be possible.

He mentions his frustration at not knowing what will be discovered by science after he has gone and I nod in agreement. It's one of the most annoying things about being curious.

12pm

We pick up a copy of Murky Depths from the dealers room. This is a new one for me, but the sample copy I picked up looked interesting.

Pictured: our book haul from the con.

2pm

Best Unread  (in English) European SF books, Jonathan Cowie, Jo Fletcher, Kirill Pleshkov, Hannu Rajaniemi, Christian Sauve, Ian Watson, Cheryl Morgan

Discussions about the difficulties of translation - and specifically - interpreting the content correctly are always fun, given my background, but I was cheating a bit and mostly looking for some good Finnish recommendations. Hannu mentioned Karsta, Apina ja Uusikuu and Lumikko ja Yhdeksan Muuta. I'll have to get hold of them when I next visit. I didn't know that 'New Weird' was called 'Uusi Kumma' in Finnish. It sounds funny.

3pm

Guest of Honour: Mike Carey

Mike is interviewed by Paul Cornell. The conversation moves fluidly through Mike's works. I am charmed by both of them. I hadn't noticed how much Mike looks like Lucifer in the comics until Paul points it out.

The pair cope admirably in what can only be described as a Monty Python-moment when two gophers decide to sweep the stage during the talk.

MONDAY 5.4.2010

10am

Language and Dialect in Writing, Iain M. Banks, Gary Couzens, Jude Roberts, Cheryl Morgan

The description of this panel featured a question I would have been interested in: "How interdependent are language and culture?"

Instead most of the panel focuses on Culture; which is still fine and entertaining, given that we're in the company of the person who invented it and another one who is writing her PhD on it. Audience participation moves the discussion towards personal experiences and reading of accents - how much we use accent and dialect as a social marker and so forth.

Timo suggests that I should give Feersum Endjinn a go. Iain says he wanted to make a short book longer "...so I thought I could slow it down by making you have to figure out 'what the hell is he saying now?'"

1pm

Was: Climate Scepticism: Pros and Cons, but we tossed a coin and went for Just a Minute instead.

Just a Minute, a rip-off of the game by the same name. John Dowd, Lisa Konrad, Sue Mason, Neil, Henry Proctor and Alastair Reynolds.

Some of the topics: the geography of Radisson Edwardian hotel, the colour blue, potatoes.

I manage to speak to Alastair briefly after the panel. He surprises me by guessing I'm Finnish and recommends Tahtivaeltaja magazine to me. He clearly has fantastic taste.

2pm

Black Holes For Beginners, Nik Whitehead

"Singularity really means: shit, we don't know what the maths is doing here. It's where it all breaks down."

I realise that we've come a full circle and end our con with another Nik Whitehead item. This session is even more fascinating than the first - probably because it involves so much more tantalisingly unknown and mysterious material.  I wish I could attend lectures by Nik all the time, but I doubt I'd have the smarts for it.

She mentions the 'spaghettification' of space-time and I can't resist shouting out: "Does that mean the Pastafarians are right?"

3pm

We're hungry and knackered and decide to head home. We're in the lobby paying for our parking when I lament to Timo that I hadn't had a chance to get my copy of Lucifer signed by the author. At this point, in a spooky replica of the John Meaney-moment from 2008, Mike Carey turns up and I get my autograph. He asks us whether we enjoyed the con and we try not to be too tongue-tied.

Homeward Bound

Listening to Plastic Beach on the way home, we discuss the con and how it feels for it to be over and whether we'll be going to the next one, or the one after that. Maybe the every-other-con pattern will continue, which may be just as well considering  how much you come away with. We pick up a bottle of Dalwhinnie 15-year-old. Cheers, Iain!

 

 

 

See the 2008 report here!

Snow Totoro

The good side of snow - you get to play in it. Last week when we were forced to dig out the car from what resembled an igloo, I continued getting myself wet and cold and made a snow Totoro.

 

And then it started to rain. R.I.P. snow Totoro.

Moomins next year! (Or next time it snows this heavily).

I must admit I am relieved that the roads are a bit clearer again, but childish winter fun has been almost worth the hassle.

What is the difference between 15/km2 and 392/km2, other than 377?

Finns are drowning, getting drunk and crashing their cars this weekend. They are also building big bonfires, eating sausages, swimming naked in the sea or in one of the 155.000 lakes, heating up saunas - and some might even be collecting wild flowers and putting them under their pillows based on old love spells.

It's Juhannus (Midsummer) in Finland and I feel homesick. I miss some of the above. Not the drunken, drowning part. I miss the odd, golden haze of Finnish summer evenings. I miss Puffet ice cream sandwiches. I miss the way supermarket cash register staff don't look at you in the eyes and how you have to pay for your plastic bags. I miss the cheesy Finnish soap operas and reading old, yellowing Aku Ankka (Donald Duck) pocketbooks at the summer house. I miss having space to move around, even in the cities, without feeling suffocated.

I would love to go for a midnight swim, or for a stroll in the forest.

When I moved to England over 16 years ago, one of the many things I didn't quite realise was that I'd be swapping space for crowds.

Today the population density of Finland is 15/km² and the population density of England is 392/km². Even the numbers tell you that one place is crowded and the other one is not, but I made an image to illustrate the difference. Whilst the figures would have changed in 16 years, the ratio would have remained similar.

Of course one has to take non-arable land into consideration (there are all those lakes in Finland after all. And when you take a birds-eye view, the whole country looks like a giant forest, splattered about with water and the odd field and town). Most of Finns live in the cities and down the south. There is a tendency for city-dwelling Finns to huddle together for warmth and resources; it is normal and expected for people from all sorts of backgrounds to live in blocks of flats. Sharing the heat, sauna and laundry facilities makes sense in the harsh conditions that are the norm for majority of the year.

The Finnish summer is bittersweet; heart-breakingly beautiful, but so fleeting that half of it is spent recovering from the winter and the other half anticipating its return.

Even keeping all of the above in mind, one place is crowded the other one is not. There is a difference in how it feels to be here and how it feels to be over there.

But here's the real catch: I've grown accustomed to having lots of people everywhere. Visiting Finland makes me feel a little uneasy. Where is everybody?

Yet in my heart I crave space. The wonderful duality of expat psyche.

Finns are, generally speaking, rather homogeneous. There is the same stuff in the shops, the same aesthetic preferences, the same morals, the same political leanings. When viewed from the outside, that is. And when generalising rather broadly. Nevertheless, the homogeneousness is noticeable from this angle and is perhaps one of the other reasons why, after a while, staying in Finland makes me feel like I've been sealed in Tupperware. You have to get out and take a deep breath. And of course, living away from it all, I fill my home with reminders from Finland. The same stuff, the same aesthetic preferences, the same morals, the same political leanings. I finally found a guy with whom a relationship seemed easy and right. His mother is half-Finnish. Etc, etc, etc.

There is a deep comfort in being among people who, without any effort, think and feel like you do. Living abroad is a constant daily mental effort; I once assumed that this would be eliminated over time, but I'm not so sure any more. On the surface (spoken language, body language, writing, appearance, manners, rituals...) one can become very well adapted; almost indistinguishable from the real deal. A bit of an accent in everything you say or do, but almost, almost. I think and dream in English. I no longer accidentally offend people quite so often (reading "Watching the English" helped with that). I blend in locally, in London and almost anywhere in England and the UK as a whole. There are so many different types of people living over here anyway that this is relatively easy.

But your deepest feelings, memories and psyche remain rooted in where you came from. Ironically, when I lived in Finland, I never felt I belonged there either. Only once I'd moved away, I gradually realised just how Finnish I really am.

The summer holiday season will soon be over. The Juhannus-celebration marks the start of the real Finnish summer. This year I may be able to pop over in September, but by then, I won't find fresh berries on the market stalls or get to swim in a lake. But this year is different - my best friend is becoming a mother and her baby is due then. She only recently came to visit London with her mum, but I miss her already. And, as I've mentioned before, she's the only reason it truly sucks to be away. With everything else, one can make do.

Perfumery tour of London, anyone?

I'm almost on holiday again (in the timeline of my blog entries, "again" seems appropriate, as I tend to update more when I'm not buried under worky things).

I'm going to spend some time with my close, old friends Katja & Tuulia next week in London. We're probably going to make some museum trips (Tuulia likes museums even more than I do and she's visiting only for a few days). Science museum is always cool and we'll pop over to the V&A museum too.

On Wednesday evening, we're planning on seeing Mamma Mia in the cinema. Timo groans when I mention this. I can understand... we went to see Avenue Q on our wedding anniversary recently and Mamma Mia, the movie, is hardly in the same league. Still, Katja really wants to watch it and I do too. So there!

However, I'm probably the only only one of our little group who would love nothing more than to devote an entire day to a perfumery tour of London. I might just set out to do that on my own sometime. I even made a Google map to help.

Library lament

This could very well be (at least part) childhood nostalgia warped memory, but I'm pretty sure libraries in Finland are much better than the ones in UK. On the other hand, in UK, I can have access to documents that would be out of reach if I still lived in Finland. Yes, I can register as a reader at the British Library and research to my heart's content. I can go to my old college and sniff my way through their rare collections.

Yet what I mean by "better" doesn't relate to the availability of hard to obtain data. I guess what I mean, is the state of the everyday, local library. The one where I live now has just had an expensive "re-vamp". The main change being that it now smells slightly less damp in there. The selection of books still seems like a set of cast-offs from Lake District B&Bs and what was left over from Uncle Jack's car boot sale. There is no child and parent area. There is nowhere for you to sit down and read. A metal rack in front of the customer service desk offers dated DVDs for rental. It's soulless.

Libraries played a huge part in my love affair with books. I'd go to the one in Kouvola when visiting grandparents during school holidays. Being a child, it obviously seemed more vast and cavernous than it really is, but its size wasn't the only awe-inspiring element. Back in the late 70s, it felt high-tech for having children's audiobook tables by which you could perch with headphones not too unlike the ones sported by Princess Vespa of Druidia and listen to stories to your heart's content. There was a large children's book section from where I borrowed such gems, as Edgar Rice Burrough's Mars series and the more mundane, yet obvious titles like "Little Women" and "Treasure Island". The SF section was amazing - and much bigger than the one at my school library where most of the books were in Russian for a start! One of the main genre publishers (Kirjayhtymä) had decided on a uniform font and a black&white jacket cover design, which made it easy and moorish to select SF books. I'd stand there staring at rows and rows of books that looked alike, knowing they'd all be exciting somehow. I read Asimov, Aldiss, Brin.... Heinlein - in fact I suspect I might have read the whole section alphabetically from start to finish. 

The summer visits were best because I was allowed to borrow a big pile of books, take them to our cottage and then bury my head in them whilst trying to avoid my mother dragging me into the sun.

The library in Pasila, Helsinki was something else too. I lived in that area for a short time in my late teens. The building looked pretty awful on the outside (there is a particular widely used "modern" style of Finnish architecture that emanates a kind of bureaucracy-aesthetic). Not really paying attention to the exterior at the time, I happily devoured the delicious selection on the inside.

That's just two Finnish libraries that hold particular significance to me, but I've used many more. The little ones in suburbs, the huge ones in Helsinki, a library bus.

And something just feels better about them. When I move to a town, or visit one for a long time, I look out for the library. So far I've been to a dozen or more local libraries in UK and have been dissapointed every time. They all seem to be a book-slum; the lowest common denominator, like a charity shop for books (except some charity shops have better selections). They make me melancholy.

I understand there are funding issues - but there are similar issues in Finland. I am sure my points of reference are out of date in regards to the state of the Finnish library system, but I'm trying to account for equivalent degradation when making mental comparisons.

Perhaps the difference is that Finns are a nation of public-service lovers, unionised in workforce and have proportionally higher percentage of people who seem to be born administrators.

I don't think that Brits love books any less than Finns. It has to be about the bureaucracy-aesthetic; after all, its appreciation in architecture is only a manifestation of a deeper, cultural feeling for what's right and what's wrong. Maybe that's the very thing that keeps Finnish libraries breathing whilst similar public services in other countries slowly suffocate.

Orbital2008 (That's how we're tagging it)

[EDIT: See the 2010 report here!]

This year's Eastercon was the best one I'd been to. Orbital 2008 was held at the Radison Edwardian hotel, Heathrow and I went for the whole weekend with my husband Timo. Didn't think anything would beat the 2002 con in Jersey, but I was wrong. Not that I'm a seasoned con-goer and a fan, unlike the veterans celebrating their 40th Eastercon, but nevertheless, measuring by my own tiny scale, this one tops the lot.

Turns out the Chinese invented Breakdance

Shaolin Monks was great. A mixture between Martial arts prowess, energetic dance and stagemanship; it was a Martial arts circus. Definitely something to see (I could add the nauseating: for the whole family). There were spectacular shows of well-practiced moves, the circus-element of brick-breaking and balancing on sharp spikes seemed to appeal to the younger audience and there were moments when the cartwheels and rolling on stage held a striking resemblance to Breakdance.

The highlight of the show was a double-act by two very young boys - they looked like they were under 7 years old, but their size might have been misleading. They effortlessly sparred, skipped and hopped through complicated Kung-Fu moves with the sort of ease that usually follows years and years of tireless practice. Watching them was like an optical illusion that made the audience gasp time and time again; it was like watching miniature adults.

We did notice one thing - the audience was completely different from the last Sadler's Wells production we went to see. Yes, lots of families, but also people who looked like they'd never set foot in a theatre before. Many people arriving really late. Or talking during the performance. I don't care if it's your first time when you're 48 years old, but you could at least observe some polite common sense rules on how to conduct yourself.

Perhaps that's harsh. But seriously. Granted, not everyone was taken to their first concert/opera/theatre performance at under 5 years old, taught to sit still and focus, taught to figure out the plot of an opera sung in another language from looking through the programme booklet, but I do idly wonder whether common sense about certain things has to be taught too. Is common sense something you can, or have to teach?

It seems that many Finns still value opera, classical music and the theatre in the sort of way I was used to. In that you don't have to be wealthy, or in any kind of particular social class to take yourself (and your kids) off to see the latest production of The Magic Flute. At least that's the impression I get from the delightful film "Pelikaanimies" (Pelican Man), a film we watched yesterday. I bought it on our Finnish trip this summer, but we hadn't got around to watching it until now. Pelican Man is a simple, but delightful fantasy aimed at children, but entirely watchable by adults. One day a pelican decides to turn himself into a human by landing on a beach and putting on human clothes. The film explores human perception, what it's like to be an adult and what it's like to be a little boy whose parents have just divorced. There is lovely Finnish scenery and a beautiful feel to the whole film.