Filed under: Arthur C. Clarke, Book Conservation, movies, Podcast, Predictions, Science Fiction, Society, Space, tech, Writing stuff
I have been *really* enjoying the audio version of Communion of Dreams, which I discussed in my last post. And I think you will too, once we work out some additional logistical things on the hosting end (the files are very large, relative to the .pdf files of the text, and necessitate increasing my bandwidth allotment significantly.) With a little luck, we should have that ready to go by this weekend. My friend’s interpretation of the characters is quite interesting – some of them have caught me a bit by surprise, though I cannot object in the slightest to his artistic decisions. And he is very good, really getting into the pacing and mood of the story the further he goes.
In fact, listening to the book, and the need to catch up on book conservation work from the long break last week through this weekend, is responsible for my not posting anything yesterday. And that’s OK, since I would have been tempted to do what just about every other SF blogger on the planet seems to have done: write a tribute to Arthur C. Clarke.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Beyond being one of the best Science Fiction writers of the 20th century, Sir Arthur had an impact on the larger society, changing not only how we see space, but how we actually use it. It is completely understandable that everyone wants to write about him, and how his writing changed their lives (and writing). I did so in some discussion forums. And I have written about him here, and noted on my CoD site just what his influence has been on me as a writer.
But after I heard of his death all I really wanted to do was sit back and enjoy his vast vision. Tuesday night I popped open a beer, popped 2001 into the DVD player, and paid homage to the narrator of Tales from the White Hart.
Then yesterday, as I worked in my bindery, listening to my own story of humanity’s first encounter with an alien artifact, I thought about Clarke. A lot. And in thinking of him, and all that he accomplished, there was a danger, a tendency: to despair, to feel unworthy, to judge my own writing by his measure. Because I fall short, no matter how you look at it.
But that’s not what it’s all about. We all fall short of the best, at least in some areas. That does not negate the good work we do. Even Arthur C. Clarke had his failings. That does not change the fact that the world now is a poorer place for his absence.
Farewell, my old friend and mentor, though we never met.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Book Conservation, Feedback, Marketing, Podcast, Promotion, Publishing, Science Fiction, tech, U of Iowa Ctr for the Book, Writing stuff
A good friend – the one who actually got me started in book conservation (and has written a brilliant book on her time in the UICB program) – was by to visit for the first time in a long while. No discredit to her, we were just unable to have guests for the last year or two of caring for Martha Sr.
Anyway, last night, over a glass of wine and chatting, she handed over a wrapped package. “Your Christmas gift.”
(We’ve always been close enough friends that such things can be done whenever the timing works out, rather than obsessing over calendar pages.)
I unwrapped it. A small CD/DVD travel case. I unzipped it – and saw the first disc labeled “Communion of Dreams by James T. Downey.”
I was stunned. Gobsmacked, the Brits say.
My friend’s husband (also my friend – I’ve known them since they were first married) does custom audio books. He’d read Communion of Dreams last year, and really liked it. And together they conspired to produce the book as an unabridged audio production. 12 CDs worth.
I’m not sure yet just how long that is – I’m guessing about 20 hours. I just listened to the first chapter last night – and it was brilliant! A wonderful adaptation of the text, with some fun interpretations of the characters. Over the next few days I’ll get nothing much else done, I’m guessing, as I listen to the thing. Wow.
And here’s the best part: I have permission to use the MP3 versions that also came along with the gift as podcasts!
My good lady wife is starting to do the work of adapting my CoD site to host the MP3 files, and once we have all the details worked out, those will be available as a free download as well.
This is really cool – and really exciting! Just this past weekend downloads of the text of the book surpassed 7,750. I was just starting to think of contacting agents/publishers again – now having the podcasts of the book available will really help to promote the thing and make it easier to arrange conventional publishing.
Very, very cool!
Jim Downey
Filed under: 2nd Amendment, Ballistics, Book Conservation, Guns, RKBA, Science, Weather
Sorry things have been a bit sparse. Monday and Tuesday I was busy wrapping up some conservation work for MU Special Collections’ Adopt-A-Book program (and you can see some of my work results on the ‘adopted’ page). I delivered those Tuesday afternoon, then went and bought a generator.
A generator? Yup. And a chronograph, lots of sandwich items, a couple of sawhorses, some plastic drop cloths, some more bore snakes, and various and sundry items. Because today we’re starting the ballistics testing I have mentioned before. The last several days have been very busy with running around and getting some of the various items we needed, and then yesterday me and my two buddies with whom I am doing this test went out to the site and started setting things up. Everything is coming together very nicely, and it is pretty exciting to finally be starting this project we first conceived of over a year ago.
This morning we have a lot more stuff to load up and lug out to the testing site (private land about 20 minutes south of here). With a little luck, the forecast rain will hold off long enough for us to get set up and settled in (we’re working out of a large cabin tent, which should deal with the weather adequately so long as we’re not facing a deluge). Once we’re set, rain shouldn’t matter.
So, busy here. I’ll try and post a bit each morning before going out to do the day’s testing (we’re doing tests through Saturday), but I won’t have a lot of time to do any real research or extensive contemplation. Not that my usual posts would necessarily make you think I did this anyway, but there you are.
So, later. Whenever.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Bipolar, Blade Runner, Book Conservation, Daily Kos, Depression, Hospice, movies, Weather
Seems a bit ridiculous for someone 6’2″ and pushing 250 pounds to be “feeling small”, but that’s about the best characterization of my emotional state today. Bit of a headache, some intestinal issues – not ‘sick’ exactly, but just under the weather.
And what weather. What was mostly sunny and near 70 yesterday and Saturday is cold, grey, wet and very unpleasant today. 35 for the high, sleet/freezing rain this afternoon and snow scheduled for tonight and tomorrow. The kind of day that makes the cats curl up on the radiators and refuse to budge.
Both my good lady wife and I are feeling this. I think it is just part of the natural let-down, the ebb & flow of recovery from being care providers for so long, of grieving. I cross posted this diary (with some additional explanatory material) to Daily Kos yesterday, and it generated some really good discussion. But I think it left me feeling a bit wrung-out. For the longest time I have been able to attribute any mild depression or exhaustion to the stress and demands of care-giving, but the fact remains that I do have a mild bipolar condition. I suspect that for a while things are just going to oscillate before reaching some kind of equilibrium once again.
So, take it a bit easy today. Maybe go watch Blade Runner or something this morning, then see if I can accomplish some more conservation work this afternoon. One step at a time.
Jim Downey
Last night, my wife washed off the blackboard which hangs in the kitchen.
* * * * * * *
I just got back from a quick trip to KC to pick up the first large load of books from the seminary. Simple. Got up this morning, usual routine, jumped in the car and drove to KC. Met with the client. Selected about 60 volumes to start with, wrapped them in cling film, boxed ’em up. Put the boxes in the car, drove home, pausing to check out a new store just off the highway – and amazing myself that I didn’t have to call home to coordinate the slight delay.
* * * * * * *
I sent this note to a friend:
Mostly I’ve been getting work done, at least in the afternoons. Feels good to be able to focus in and do it – a nice affirmation, and there is that joy that comes with doing something well which most people can’t do. Still struggling to shake off the last effects of the flu, which is annoying, but there is clear progress.
And that has been the real change this week. Each afternoon I’ve been able to just dive in and work. For hours. Very productively. Such a change.
* * * * * * *
It’s the little things. Yes, there are the larger changes: more sleep, no need to go around always listening to a monitor, being able to come and go as I please. Those I expected, even if they have taken some adjustment. But it’s the little things that catch you unprepared.
Last night, my wife washed off the blackboard which hangs in the kitchen.
The blackboard which for years had our contact phone numbers on it. Those were first put there by Martha Sr. years ago, when her memory was becoming undependable and she might need to call someone for help. Then they remained even once we moved in here, since both my wife and I still had our jobs elsewhere during the day. After I closed my gallery and moved home that was no longer the need, but by then they were an institution. More recently, long after Martha Sr had stopped using the phone, the numbers were there as a quick resource for the various respite care workers and whatnot, in the event of an emergency.
Last night, my wife washed it clean. It was time to move on.
* * * * * * *
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Book Conservation, Firefly, Flu, Health, Hospice, Joss Whedon, movies, Predictions, Science Fiction, Serenity, Sleep, Society, Writing stuff
Last night we settled down with some dinner to watch a bit of Firefly, settling on Serenity (the episode, not the movie). At one point fairly early on, when plans have gone south at several junctures, the captain of the ship (Mal) is considering options, trying to make the best of a not-great situation. There’s this little bit of dialog:
MAL: We don’t get paid for this, we won’t have enough money to fuel the ship,
let alone keep her in repair. She’ll be dead in the water anyhow.
(Mal turns to the others)
We just gotta keep our heads down and do the job. Pray there ain’t no more surprises.
I looked at my wife, and we just nodded to one another.
* * * * * * *
We did a hard thing. And we did it well.
Caring for my MIL for years somewhat warped my perspective. First and foremost in our consideration was always what her needs were and how best to meet them. I’ve often talked about what that meant in terms of rewards and sacrifices, and I don’t intend to rehash that now.
But a couple of things have changed with her passing. First off, is the odd sense of disorientation. I’ve compared it in discussion with friends with almost having a sense of agoraphobia – a nervousness when out in the world I’ve never felt before. It’s really just a conditioned reflex, and will fade as I adjust to the lack of need to always being worried about Martha Sr.
Another thing which has changed is the need to return to something resembling a ‘normal’ life, with the usual requirements of work. I don’t mind work, never have. My life has never been easy (though it certainly could have been harder), and I’ve never expected it to be otherwise.
But sometimes you wonder if maybe it couldn’t be just a little bit easier.
Caring for Martha Sr those last weeks was more demanding, and lasted longer than anyone expected. Getting hit with the flu so hard following seemed a bit gratuitous, in the sense of the universe having fun at our expense. Both my wife and I are behind on our work, and while our clients understand, that doesn’t help the cash flow situation. I knew these days would come, and things would be a little rough for a while until we got settled again. But we’ll manage.
* * * * * * *
We did a hard thing, and we did it well.
What has come of a bit of surprise has been how some people have responded to that. There’s been some discord in the family about the disposition of Martha Sr’s possessions, borne mostly out of a misguided sense of guilt, from what I can tell. It’s really unfortunate, but everyone has their own way of reacting to death. If we’re lucky, with time the matter will sort itself out with a minimal amount of damage.
I’ve also seen others in different forums who have almost felt like they had to defend their own decisions regarding a loved one who has Alzheimer’s or some other debilitating illness leading to hospice care. I’ve witnessed those who almost seem resentful that we did what we did, because it somehow implies that they did less – that they cared less.
No. We were able to make this work out. Barely. Everyone has a different situation, and each family, each person, must come to their own conclusions, their own solutions. None is better or worse than another. Because my wife and I don’t have kids, we didn’t have to juggle that aspect of life at the same time. Because we live here in the same town as Martha Sr, and have professions which allow a considerable flexibility in terms of work hours, we were better able to adapt to providing care at home than most. Our solution worked for our situation – barely. Those final months were very demanding, and I will admit that I was pushed further than I would have thought was possible, and failed and succeeded in ways I never expected.
I will not judge another – this experience has taught me humility.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Book Conservation, Health, Hospice, Predictions, Preparedness, Sleep
(This is something of a follow-up to yesterday’s post.)
My MIL made it through the night. And seems to be holding her own today. But her fingernails are still blue, breathing noticeably labored. To be perfectly honest, I hope the end comes quickly and with ease for her. If that sounds horrid, or cold, or heartless – well, I’d say you haven’t been paying attention. I am none of those things.
We’re trying to keep things as ‘normal’ as we can, to maintain our usual schedule, get my MIL up at her usual time, have meals as planned, all the normal routines. This might be a bit absurd – it feels like it to me – but consistency really does give comfort to someone with Alzheimer’s. And while other health factors are now in action which will likely end her life soon, she is still very much an Alzheimer’s patient.
But I am changing my schedule a bit, canceling meetings with clients, postponing this or that activity to make sure either my wife or myself are always here. We had our usual ‘respite’ break scheduled for this Thursday afternoon, but I worry about leaving the respite sitter here alone with my MIL. My clients have all been understanding about this, which is good. As I told a friend this morning, there are advantages to being a skilled craftsman in an unusual profession.
So, we wait, pretending that things are normal. Until they’re not.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Amazon, Art, Book Conservation, Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling, Jeff Bezos, Promotion, Publishing, Society
Multiple friends sent me notes about the auction of J.K. Rowling‘s Tales of Beedle the Bard, which sold at auction yesterday for almost $4 million, proceeds of which are going to charity. This was undoubtedly because the book touches on a number of my interests and profession – if you haven’t seen the thing yet, it is worth looking at. Rowling created seven copies of the book, writing and illustrating the text herself.
Unfortunately, but not terribly surprisingly, I have yet to find any mention of who did the binding work, or created the silver bosses and clasp used. The artisans who executed this work did a fine job, based on what I’ve been able to tell from the images available, and it would be nice to see at least some acknowledgment of them.
There is already some discussion of the “value” of the book, as an artifact, due to the price it sold for. And that is understandable, since $4 million is a chunk of change, and most authors, artists and artisans will never see their work command such a price. I have been involved in many projects of this nature, creating custom bindings of personal texts, or very limited editions, or a commemorative binding. And never has my work commanded more than a few hundred dollars. I’d be willing to bet the same was the case with the remuneration paid to the artisans who did the binding for these seven copies of Beedle. And certainly J.K. Rowling doesn’t command millions for her calligraphy or illustration work, as nice as it is.
So, why the price? Reports indicate that it was expected that the book would auction for something on the order of $100,000. What caused the book to sell for 40 times that amount?
Well, it is likely that it was a unique combination of events. Most of all, J.K. Rowling’s reputation meant that the sale would attract attention. No doubt Amazon.com (and Jeff Bezos) felt that the purchase would be well worth it, just in terms of the free publicity and good will that it would generate for the company. And the money was going to charity, so that doesn’t hurt. Chances are, if someone who owns one of the other six copies of this book were to put it up for sale privately, it would not attract that kind of money – not at this time, anyway. In another generation or two, it is likely that whenever one of these books is sold it’ll fetch quite a high price.
Because that is how these things work. Initially, there is surprise – but over the long term the thing which will be remembered is that the first book sold for millions. With only seven original copies, each one will be seen as precious – purely because one already sold at auction for millions. Whether she meant to do so or not, J. K. Rowling has just made the other owners of these books (or at least their heirs) wealthy. I hope they each get a decent insurance policy and a fireproof safe.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Book Conservation, General Musings, Guns, Health, Hospice, NPR, Predictions, Publishing, Science Fiction, Sleep, Society, tech, Writing stuff
As I’ve mentioned previously, I try and catch NPR’s Weekend Edition Saturday regularly. This morning’s show was hosted by John Ydstie, and had a very nice three minute meditation titled Reflecting on a Past Generation which dealt with the differences between his life and his father-in-law’s, as measured in physical weight and strength. You should listen to it, but the main thrust of the piece is how Ydstie’s FIL was a man of the mechanical age, used to dealing with tools and metal and machines, whereas Ydstie is used to working with computers and electronic equipment which is becoming increasingly light weight, almost immaterial.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Last weekend, as part of my preparations for tackling in earnest the big conservation job for the seminary, I got a large fireproof safe. I needed something much larger than my little cabinet to safely secure the many books I will have here at any given time. And about the most cost-effective solution to this need was a commercial gun safe, the sort of thing you see in sporting goods stores and gun shops all around the country.
So, since a local retailer was having a big Holiday sale, I went and bought a safe. It’s 60 inches tall, 30 inches wide, and 24 inches deep. And it weighs 600 pounds.
And the retailer doesn’t offer any kind of delivery and set-up.
“Liability issues,” explained the salesman when I asked. “But the guys out at the loading dock will help get it loaded into your truck or trailer.”
Gee, thanks.
So I went and rented a low-to the ground trailer sufficiently strong for hauling a 600 pound safe (I have a little trailer which wouldn’t be suitable). And an appliance dolly. And went and got the safe.
When I showed up at the loading dock and said I needed to pick up a safe, people scattered. The poor bastard I handed the paperwork to sighed, then disappeared into the warehouse. He returned a few minutes later with some help and my safe, mounted on its own little wooden pallet and boxed up. The four guys who loaded it into my trailer used a little cargo-loader, and were still grunting and cursing. I mostly stayed out of their way and let them do the job the way they wanted. Liability issues, you know.
I drove the couple miles home, and parked. And with a little (but critical) help from my good lady wife, it took just a half an hour and a bit of effort to get the safe in the house and settled where I wanted it. Yes, it was difficult, and I wouldn’t really want to tackle moving anything larger essentially on my own. But using some intelligence, an understanding of balance, and the right tool for the job I was able to move the 600 pound mass of metal with relative ease. And it made me feel damned good about my flabby own self.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
In contrast, the most difficult things I have ever done don’t really have a ‘weight’ to them. Communion of Dreams took me years of hard work to write and rewrite (multiple times), and yet is nothing more than phantasm, able to fly through the internet and be read by thousands. There are no physical copies to be bought, shared with a friend, lugged around and cherished or dropped disgustedly into a recycle bin. It is just electrons, little packets of yes and no.
And these past years of being a care provider, how do I weigh them (other than the additional fat I carry around from lack of proper exercise and too little sleep)? I suppose that I could count up all the times I have had to pick up my MIL, transfer her between chair and toilet, or lay her down gently on her bed. But even in this, things tend towards the immaterial, as she slowly loses weight along with her memories of this life. And soon, she will be no more than a body to be removed, carried one last time by others sent by the funeral home.
How do you weigh a life?
Jim Downey
Filed under: Amazon, Art, BoingBoing, Book Conservation, Jeff Bezos, Kindle, NPR, Predictions, Publishing, Science Fiction, Society, tech
A friend dropped me a note last night, asked what I thought of Kindle, the new e-book reader from Jeff Bezos/Amazon. My reply:
I think it is still a hard sell. $400 is a chunk for something which only kinda-sorta replaces a real book. And if you drop it in the mud, it isn’t just $7.95 to buy a new copy. But it does seem to be an intelligent application of the relevant tech, and sounds intriguing. There will be those who snap it up, just ’cause – but Amazon has a long way to go before it is mainstream.
That’s my guess.
As I mentioned in this post back in March, something like the Kindle has been a staple of SF going way back. Way back. But for all our progress in tech to date, I think it’ll be a while before actual paper & ink books are obsolete. It’s a simple matter of economics and risk, as I indicate in that note to my friend above. Joel Johnson at BoingBoing Gadgets says much the same thing in his review – here’s an excerpt:
Although I can hold a $400 eBook reader in my hand, it only feels truly valuable because I have a $7 book inside that I want to read. If Amazon can find a way to lower the barrier of entry on either side of the platform—a cheaper Kindle, or free content—it may then be worth wider consideration.
Bezos might be right, and me wrong. Certainly, I don’t have the track record he does, and haven’t earned the kind of money he has with his hard work and predictions. Then again, he has the wealth to afford being wrong for a long time before he is right, as may happen with this kind of project .
Jim Downey
Communion Of Dreams 