Michael Swanwick's Blog

 .

I have just finished reading Pat Murphy's new novel, The Adventures of Mary Darling. It is a romp. Or, rather, it is two romps, one at the beginning and the other at the end. In the middle is a thick slab of the cruelties of the Victorian era. All carefully garnished to make a romp-and-misery sandwich.

In brief, when Peter Pan comes to Kensington, London, to steal away Wendy and her brothers, her mother, Mary Darling, determines to rescue them. In her youth, she too had been stolen away by Peter Pan and she knew what a wretched, hungry, and often fatal existence the Lost Boys endured. Her uncle, John Watson, gets involved and brings along the celebrated detective, Sherlock Holmes. Who is, fair warning (see below), held up for scorn for his quintessentially male habit of explaining everything to those who already know more than he does. 

Ms. Darling, as it turns out, learned swordplay and derring-do in the course of her escape from Neverland. Thus, the romp.

Near novel's end, when Mary is restored home, her brother gives a cleaned-up, fairy-free version of their adventures based on boys' fiction of the time. And Murphy writes:

Over time, Mary came to realize that the good people of Cooktown believed Tom because they wanted to believe him. There was a reason that adventure novels were popular. They told the stories that people wanted to believe--tales of terrifying savages and bold British explorers. People wanted to believe that plucky children could stand up to pirates and survive. They wanted to think that a British pirate captain like Captain Scratch would send the children home.

All true, of course. But the text, as narrated by Wendy's daughter Jane, is our current version of Victorian wish fulfillment pulp. Today, what we want to believe is that a woman of character can face down pirates and scoundrels of all kinds and find sisterly support from networks of capable women everywhere. It is no more untrue than the boy's fiction of a century and a half ago. And as needed now as those tales were back when.

And a word of warning . . . 

Because TAoMD is about men controlling the narrative and the need for women to subvert that and to create alternative support groups, men come in for their share of lumps. The primary punching bag here is Sherlock Holmes. Which I thought was just a frazz unkind but he can take it. Dr. Watson, however--who as portrayed as an honorable, kindly, and supportive man, a Mensch in every way, also comes in for his share of criticism and, while I understand why his virtues shouldn't render him exempt from criticism, that's a little harder to accept.

I enjoyed the book despite this. But you know yourself best. If this is going to bother you... Well, you've been warned.

*

 .

The Worldcon has begun and I've got work to do! But I would be remiss if I didn't share Open Road Media's e-book sale Tales of Old Earth.

Here's what they wrote:

Hello,

We are pleased to let you know that the following ebook(s) will be featured in price promotions soon.

ISBN13TitleAuthorPromo TypeCountryStart DateEnd DatePromo Price9781504036511Tales of Old EarthSwanwick, MichaelORM - Early Bird Books NLCA2025-08-162025-08-16$1.999781504036511Tales of Old EarthSwanwick, MichaelORM - Early Bird Books NLUS2025-0

.

 

 

Look what came in the mail! Sad Serenity sent me a CD of their latest album, Tiny Miracles which contains a song based on (with my permission, of course) my story, "An Empty House With Many Doors."

Sad Serenity is, that nice Mr. Google tells me, "an international prog Metal collective centered around German multi-instrumentalist Marcell Kammerer." The song they crafted around the bones of my tale is titled "Tell the Moon."

I like it quite a lot. In fact, I like the whole album quite a lot.

I once wrote a story with the extraordinary title "For I Have Lain Me Down on the Stone of Loneliness and I'll not be Back Again," based on Janis Ian's  song "Mary's Eyes." Commenting either on it or on the anthology of stories based on her songs Stars, Janis commented on what an extraordinary thing it is to see someone pick up a piece of art you made and turn it into a new and different work of art. 

She's right there. When I wrote it, "An Empty House With Many Doors" was a very private meditation of what I would do if my wife Marianne were to die. It proved to be very popular, probably because there's so much emotion packed into it, which is something I was not expecting. And now it's traveling about the world of music, far from my control. 

Safe traveling, little story-turned-song. I wish you all the best.

You can hear the song here. And if you're of a mind to, you can buy the album here. Much like science fiction writers, international Prog Metal collectives need all the support they can get.

*

 .

In an age that has no shortage of quixotic projects, this one stands out as quixotic indeed. But Nisi Shawl is no ordinary writer and no ordinary woman. I'll let Eileen Gunn explain this unimaginable-before-crowdfunding project:

Much thanks to everyone who has donated to help Nisi Shawl write The Five Petals of Thought. Thanks to you all, we are three-quarters of the way there! I want Nisi to tell you a bit about the book-dream they had. Take it away, Nisi: 

Before I even started writing it, this book was so real I dreamed about it. Briefly, my dream went like this: ˆI overhear two co-workers discussing work. One is telling the other about all the difficulties she’s been having with a manager: misunderstandings, missed opportunities and so forth. The second asks the first one why she didn’t just use the Five Petals of Thought? Which, of course, is the obvious thing to do, everyone agrees. From above, I see the Ramblin School’s rolling acres, bounded by fieldstone walls, cuddle and comfort the white clapboard buildings, the wide steps, and the generous, high roofs under which study the students of the Five Petals. Polished wooden floors, spacious classrooms and gathering places--all of it, indoors and outdoors, is home to this historic movement. A diagram is shown to me at this point, a simple flower outline with each Petal’s name on the corresponding petal. It lists them as Thought, Action, Observation, Integration, and New Action. 

Then I woke up. I wanted to find out more about the Five Petals philosophy, so I looked for sources online. I searched Wikipedia and there was nothing. Googled various combinations, key words, and nothing. The Five Petals (which I understood somehow was also sometimes known as the New Bedford Rose), did not exist. Had never existed. Would never exist fully. Unless I wrote it. 

Thank you, Nis! And thank you all for your contributions! You are helping to make this book a reality. Over the next few days, I'll post more from Nisi about "The Five Petals of Thought" and where she plans to take it. If you are on social media, please let others know about our fundraiser by posting a link to it to your followers. Thank you all so *very* much! 

-- Eileen Gunn

If you are moved to help, as was I, you can find the Gofundme account here.

*

 .

The 2025 Worldcon in Seattle is almost upon us! And, following ancient tradition, here is my Worldcon Schedule:

Friday

1:30pm-2:30pm

Science Fiction Beyond The Grave

From Philip Jose Farmer's Riverworld toTV's Upload, science fiction has often speculated about theafterlife. Is this always fantastical? Does it tread on religiousbeliefs? This panel will discuss the intersection of science fictionand what Shakespeare described as The Undiscovered Country.

Marie Guthrie, PhD (M), Amy Sundberg,Andrew Sweet, Emily C. Skaftun, Michael Swanwick

3:00pm-4:00pm

Generational Tension: Old Guard vsRevolutionaries

Revolutions in SFF writing come withconflict as the establishment looks down its nose at the ruffiansoverturning "settled"genre conventions and creating spacefor stories"”and authors"”previously unwelcome. Has italways been thus? Do things look different to yesterday'sbomb-throwers a few decades after they've become the new Old Guard?Come hear writers and editors who straddle revolutionary time periodsgoing back to the New Wave of the 1960s and 70s talk aboutgenerational literary conflict.

Gary K Wolfe (M), Ctein, F. Brett Cox,Michael Swanwick, Tim Bennett

6:00pm-7:00pm

Autographs

Saturday

12:00pm-2:30pm

Flash Fiction Workshop (double slot)

Flash fiction can delight a heart ordeliver a punch in the space of 500-1000 words, which may be why it'sone of speculative fiction's favorite and most sellable forms. Learnhow to write, edit, and submit your own flash fiction.

Michael Swanwick

6:00pm-7:00pm

The Radical Fiction of Joanna Russ

Joanna Russ, author of The Female Man,wrote some of the most radical fiction of the 1960s and 1970s. TheFemale Man has remained consistently in print and is one of the mostexperimental and challenging books of our genre. This panel willdiscuss her work (short stories and novels) and its effects.

Sue Burke (M), Catherine Lundoff,Langley Hyde, Michael Swanwick, Rich Horton

Some intersting stuff there. Will we live up to it? There's only one way to find out.

*

 .

 At last it can be told! I have a new collection of my short fiction coming out from Tachyon Publications in 2026.

The Universe Box contains contains seventeen of the very best of a decade's worth of stories appearing in Asimov's Science Fiction, Clarkesworld, Reactor/Tordotcom, F&SF, Analog, New Worlds, Sunday Morning Transport, Sword and Sorcery, The Book of Dragons, and Dragonstairs Press (the story the book derives its title from; though it was later reprinted in Asimov's). Plus one or two that are original to the book. If you already have almost all of them, you have my profound admiration. Also my worried concern that your bookshelves may be as overburdened as my own.

This has been in the works for a while. But at last a publication date has been set. It is (trumpets and drum roll, please): 

 

 February3, 2026 

 

@font-face {font-family:"MS Mincho"; panose-1:2 2 6 9 4 2 5 8 3 4; mso-font-alt:"ＭＳ 明朝"; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:modern; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1791491579 134217746 0 131231 0;}@font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}@font-face {font-family:Cambria; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1073743103 0 0 415 0;}@font-face {font-family:"\@MS Mincho"; panose-1:2 2 6 9 4 2 5 8 3 4; mso-font-charset:128; mso-generic-font-family:modern; mso-font-pitch:fixed; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1791491579 134217746 0 131231 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Cambria",serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}.MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:11.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Cambria",serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"MS Mincho"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-font-kerning:0pt; mso-ligatures:none;}.MsoPapDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; margin-bottom:10.0pt; line-height:115%;}div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;}

 

This seems like a long time to wait. But in publishing time, it's a blink of the eye.

 

And I should warn you . . .

The kindly but tyrannical people at Tachyon have informed me in no uncertain terms that between now and the publication date, I must ruthlessly promote the collection on social media. So, of course, I have no choice but to do so.

Still, I promise I'll do my best to be entertaining at it. I have plans. You'll see.

 

* 

 

@font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}@font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536859905 -1073732485 9 0 511 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi; mso-font-kerning:1.0pt; mso-ligatures:standardcontextual;}.MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;}

 

 .

 

I am the proud owner of a paper clip once owned by Alice Sheldon, a giant of science fiction under the name of James Tiptree, Jr. Sheldon kept a physical distance from her literary genre of choice. She didn't attend conventions and very seldom met with anybody, fan or writer, from the community. I never even came close to meeting her. So you may be wondering how I came in possession of this literary relic. Well...

Gardner Dozoisand Susan Casper met Sheldon once in the late seventies or early eighties, at herplace in McLean, Virginia. Her house was mostly glass and sat over a streamthat ran through the living room. Raccoons would come intoit at night. In an interview published in the Temporary Culture chapbook She Saved Us From World War Three Gardner said, “…wewent out there and spent the afternoon. We had burgers, I think, which theygrilled, and we sat around for a while. I found out during the afternoon thatshe kept her Nebula Award in a closet with galoshes piled on top of it.”

He also said that Sheldon wasflamboyant, even theatrical. “She really dominated your attention. She wasmagnetic. […] While we were eating our hamburgers… She had put out paper napkinsand I was nervous, so I sat nervously shredding a napkin. She told me laterthat after we left she had picked up the shreds of the napkin and put them in abaggie and written “Napkin Shredded by Gardner Dozois” and the date on a label.Whether that still exists or not, I have no idea.”  

Such souvenirs were obviously important toSheldon. When Gardner and Susan started to leave, she looked around hurriedlyfor something to give him as a memento and ended up handing him an oversizedblue plastic paper clip—the one you see enshrined above.

Such souvenirs were not importantto Gardner So he gave it to me.

Thus it was that this luminous object passed from a believer to an infidel to a believer again. This is the Wheel of Samsara in action.

 

* 

@font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-536870145 1107305727 0 0 415 0;}p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";}.MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;}div.WordSection1 {page:WordSection1;} 

 

 

 

 

 .

  

After years of labor, I have finallyassembled a comprehensive dictionary of Cat. It is as follows:

now?:Oh, please, sir. I'm ever so hungry. Will no one feed the nice cat?

Hark!:Damn your eyes, why did you make me do this? Your impudence will notbe soon forgotten. Clean up this hairball immediately. I'm going off to a quiet spot to plot vengeance.

*

 .

Barry Longyear is dead. I wasn't going to note his passing because he and I were never close. We bumped into each other on panels at Worldcons a couple of times, but that was it. However, the current issue of Locus has, in addition to its obituary, only one appreciation, though a good one written by his agent, Richard Curtis. His star has since faded, but Longyear was once considered to be one of the greats in science fiction. He deserves more than that.

So I'll say a very few words here. If early on you're offended, please keep reading. I promise all will be made right. 

Back in the 1970s, Longyear was one of George Scithers' two most celebrated discoveries, along with John M. Ford, in Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine. As a writer, his every story, especially the Circusworld ones set on the planet Baraboo, hit the sweet spot with fans. As a human being, he was an absolute asshole.

The stories of the man's offensive behavior and curmudgeonly insults of his writing peers (in all fairness, he did punch up as well as down, though at some of the most beloved figures in the field) were legion. Thankfully, time has erased most of the specifics for me. Though I vividly remember the fanzine article he wrote about the Hugo Award, where he said that if he won one and had only enough room in his suitcase for the trophy or his soiled underwear, he would choose the underwear.

But then he went into rehab.

He went in belligerent and offensive, and he came out likeable. Again, I never knew Barry Longyear very well. But anyone could see that person he used to be was not the real him. The real him, it turned out, was a nice guy.

That nice guy, according to the Locus obit, founded Dragon Slayers, a Narcotics Anonymous group that he selflessly helped run for decades. That tells us a lot.

Longyear's career highpoint came when his novella, Enemy Mine, in which a human and an alien at war with each other must make common cause in order to survive. won the Hugo, Nebula, Locus, and John W. Campbell Awards. A low point ensued when it was made into a movie. Word at the time was that the suits looked at the script and said, "Where's the mine?" and so one was inserted. Reportedly, the whole thing went down from there. The movie was a flop and by all accounts deserved to be one.

Curtis relates, I'm sure correctly, that Longyear wrote two sequels to the story and his own version of what the movie should have been. A year ago, Twentieth Century Studios decided they wanted to do a remake of the movie. Contracts were signed in time for the ailing author to know that there was a good chance his story would be done up as it deserved. I could have wished that he had lived long enough to see the movie and that the movie was everything it should have been. But writers live on hope, and Longyear lived long enough to experience that hope one last time.

Go with God, Barry. I hope your movie is one of the great ones.

Above: The picture of Barry Longyear was taken from Hazelden Publishing.

*

 .

Barry Longyear is dead. I wasn't going to note his passing because he and I were never close. We bumped into each other on panels at Worldcons a couple of times, but that was it. However, the current issue of Locus has, in addition to its obituary, only one appreciation, though a good one written by his agent, Richard Curtis. His star has since faded, but Longyear was once considered to be one of the greats in science fiction. He deserves more than that.

So I'll say a very few words here. If early on you're offended, please keep reading. I promise all will be made right. 

Back in the 1970s, Longyear was one of George Scithers' two most celebrated discoveries, along with John M. Ford, in Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine. As a writer, his every story, especially the Circusworld ones set on the planet Baraboo, hit the sweet spot with fans. As a human being, he was an absolute asshole.

The stories of the man's offensive behavior and curmudgeonly insults of his writing peers (in all fairness, he did punch up as well as down, though at some of the most beloved figures in the field) were legion. Thankfully, time has erased most of the specifics for me. Though I vividly remember the fanzine article he wrote about the Hugo Award, where he said that if he won one and had only enough room in his suitcase for the trophy or his soiled underwear, he would choose the underwear.

But then he went into rehab.

He went in belligerent and offensive, and he came out likeable. Again, I never knew Barry Longyear very well. But anyone could see that person he used to be was not the real him. The real him, it turned out, was a nice guy.

That nice guy, according to the Locus obit, founded Dragon Slayers, a Narcotics Anonymous group that he selflessly helped run for decades. That tells us a lot.

Longyear's career highpoint came when his novella, Enemy Mine, in which a human and an alien at war with each other must make common cause in order to survive. won the Hugo, Nebula, Locus, and John W. Campbell Awards. A low point ensued when it was made into a movie. Word at the time was that the suits looked at the script and said, "Where's the mine?" and so one was inserted. Reportedly, the whole thing went down from there. The movie was a flop and by all accounts deserved to be one.

Curtis relates, I'm sure correctly, that Longyear wrote two sequels to the story and his own version of what the movie should have been. A year ago, Twentieth Century Studios decided they wanted to do a remake of the movie. Contracts were signed in time for the ailing author to know that there was a good chance his story would be done up as it deserved. I could have wished that he had lived long enough to see the movie and that the movie was everything it should have been. But writers live on hope, and Longyear lived long enough to experience that hope one last time.

Go with God, Barry. I hope your movie is one of the great ones.

Above: The picture of Barry Longyear was taken from Hazelden Publishing.

*