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Okay all you people who have Alanya to Alanya, Renegade, Tsunami, and Blood in the Fruit in a 2-foot-high stack on your to-read shelf. Listen up!
For the ultimate WisCon prep so you can know what everyone is talking about, read the novel Mission Child and then read Duchamp’s analysis, Maureen McHugh’s Mission Child. That makes the perfect combination so you get some insight into the work of the two Guests of Honor for WisCon 2008.
There will also be a fabulous little inexpensive book for sale at WisCon, Plugged In, with one short story from McHugh and one from Duchamp, both very guaranteed to make you run off to your time machine and hack your body into Cyborg-Manifesto-ish feminist futurity while you download James Tiptree Jr.’s “The Girl Who Was Plugged In” straight into your brainstem.
Unplugged, Stories by L. Timmel Duchamp and Maureen McHugh
So, what else?
You *could* read the whole Marq’ssan series before WisCon if you are that sort of person....
The woman he focused on was about 18 or 19 and was very obviously unnerved by his attention. I saw her expression clearly - I was in the front row too, just three seats along. Vegas insisted that she allow herself to be carried on to the stage by six members of the audience - he called them "pall bearers". She must pretend to be dead, he said, and he would bring her back to life with an onstage kiss. He warned her that there probably would be tongues. As James Williams, writing on the NOTBBC forum after the gig, put it, "Honestly, you couldn't have found a nervier or more passive girl if you'd scoured all of London - she was like a rabbit in the headlights, but she was giggling and clearly somewhat enjoying the attention, so it just sort of went ahead without so much as a yes or no from her." As she was carried on stage, Vegas repeatedly goaded one of the pallbearers to "finger" the girl.
Once she was on stage, Vegas told her to lie very still. She couldn't stop her nervous giggling; he threatened to kick her in the ribs. It didn't come across to me as a joke - and near to where I was sitting, no one was laughing. Eventually Vegas crouched down beside the nervous girl and started stroking her breasts while repeatedly saying, "don't fucking move". Then he ran his hand up her leg and began pulling her skirt up. Every time he looked up to address the audience, she would reach down and pull her skirt back down, but he kept pulling it back up. According to Williams, who had a different view of the stage from me, Vegas ended up "fingering her through her clothes for a second or two". What I heard was an audible sharp intake of breath from the audience as they realised that the woman was getting much more than the kiss Vegas had told her to expect.
There was an air of menace from the outset, made worse by the fact that Vegas clearly had no idea where he was going with his act. The more the young woman was groped, the more anxious one of the "pallbearers" looked. Then Vegas straddled the young woman, pinning her to the floor, and kissing her for quite a while. Most disturbing, perhaps was that around half the audience seemed to find this really funny.
Algae and plankton sporadically rinsed up effectively.
Seaweed clad naked continents in green veils.
From stardust constructions, cells elusively.
Rearranged the scenery in numerous scales.
The noctilucent cloud's extensibility
Engorges my ocular ardour
Hiding in the auroral breakup's visibility
Its genie I once saw
Growing in the binocular's prism,
Systematic in the substorm's fractions
With a trapping boundary like magnetism
A lodestar in flaming actions
Awake! All you constellations
To space's serene sonata
Forget the daily tribulations
And join the nebular multicoloured strata
I crown you kings of the hemispheres
Burn wild, like an untamed lion
The stellar eruption throws out like spears
From the offspring carnival within Orion