#118 = Volume 39, Part 3 = November 2012
NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE
Wartime Stories in Astounding. In my note “Astounding and World War II” (SFS 39.1 [March 2012]: 162-65), I examined the circumstances under which authors associated with Astounding Science Fiction provided technical suggestions to the Navy, discussing specific ideas of John W. Campbell, Jr. and L. Sprague de Camp but concluding that there is no evidence that the Navy ever adopted any of these. Here I consider how the war was represented in stories appearing in Astounding; one in particular, by Murray Leinster (whose real name was Will F. Jenkins), suggests another connection between Astounding and the Navy.
The Astounding stories with a definite connection with the war fall into two categories: those based on some aspect of the war but set in the distant future, in space, or on some alien planet; and those closely connected to the war but with a strong science-fiction component. One example of the first category is “Pacer” by Raymond F. Jones (May 1943, 71-87), whose space convoy (limited in its speed by the slowest ship) was clearly inspired by problems encountered by actual convoys in the Atlantic. Another such story is Cleve Cartmill’s “Deadline” (Mar. 1944, 154-78), which concerns an atomic bomb developed during a war on another planet. This is the story that attracted attention from the government because of its mention of U-235 and the accuracy of several technical details.
An example of the second category is “Secret Unattainable” by A.E. van Vogt (July 1942, 9-26), in which a scientist with suspect motives develops a space-time portal for the Nazis: one planned use is accessing oil and minerals on other planets. The story suggests that the war was begun on the basis of early successes of this portal; its failure, however, required the invasion of Russia to obtain the needed natural resources. “The Flight That Failed” by E. Mayne Hull (Dec. 1942, 28-37) featured an influence from the future to ensure that a particular airplane flight survived, leading to victory by the Allies rather than the Nazis. In Henry Kuttner’s “Nothing But Gingerbread Left” (Jan. 1943, 60-68), an Allied semanticist develops a German song with unforgettable words and rhythm. Transmitted into Germany, the song sticks in the minds of those who hear it to the extent of crippling the Nazi war effort. Finally, in “Whom the Gods Love” by Lester del Rey (June 1943, 60-67), an American pilot acquires powers when he is struck in the head by a Japanese bullet.
One war story does not fit into either of the above categories but has connections with a suggestion made to Robert Heinlein in January 1942 by his friend and fellow Naval Academy alumnus Buddy Scoles about work on high-altitude pressure suits at the Naval Aircraft Factory. Scoles suggests that readers of sf magazines be informed of any problems connected with such work, resulting in the “In Times to Come” column in the November 1942 issue in which John W. Campbell, Jr. asked his readers if there were any young engineers interested in working with high-altitude pressure suits. The story of interest is “Four Little Ships” by Murray Leinster (36-41), which is placed just before Campbell’s column.
Unlike the war stories mentioned earlier, “Four Little Ships” has no obvious sf content but is a simple gadget story that could have appeared in almost any other type of magazine during the war. It concerns a naval battle fought during the early months of the war in the Pacific and involves a pair of fictional islands: Kaua, the American base, and, less than a hundred miles away, Mahapa, the Japanese base. An extensive reef lies between the islands, and any gaps in the reef through which American ships might pass are blocked by a Japanese minefield.
The four ships of the title are minesweepers: Heron, Tanager, Gannet, and Thrush. At almost the same time that they arrive at Kaua, two battleships arrive at Mahapa. Besides the four minesweepers, the only American combat ships available to face these battleships are three old cruisers and four destroyers. It is only a matter of time before the battleships and their escorts travel to Kaua to destroy the American ships. What can the weaker American force do to escape destruction?
The solution obviously lies with the minesweepers; but rather than just considering the normal activities of such ships, Leinster specifically mentions four devices that they will employ: (1) a system for locating masses of metal inductively, based on a civilian device used for finding buried water and gas mains, (2) special reflective material such as is used on road signs marking curves, (3) a system developed from a means of prospecting for petroleum, and (4) an underwater noisemaker. The minesweepers make three channels through the minefield, the first two by the usual method of cutting loose and destroying each anchored mine. In constructing the third channel, however, the mines are left in place. Each is located using the inductive device and marked with a tiny anchored float topped with reflex reflectors, which reflect any probing light beam only in the direction from which it comes. The American ships pass through the first two channels on their way to attack the Japanese island. Following the attack, with Japanese ships in pursuit, their course takes them to the third channel. Leinster explains that a group of mines is protected against a series of explosions when one is detonated: the concussion wave from a nearby explosion temporarily desensitizes the other mines. The American ships use this fact by firing a small depth charge at each mine they encounter (located using the reflectors on the floats). They pass safely through the minefield, which then reactivates. The American ships stop and turn, confronting the pursuing Japanese ships as if they were trapped short of the minefield in an area away from the swept channels. In the heat of battle, the approaching Japanese do not realize that the American ships are safely beyond the minefield. The Japanese ships steam into their own minefield and are severely damaged. The American cruisers and destroyers then complete their destruction.
Leinster’s plot relies only on the inductive locator and the reflective material, stating that the underwater noisemaker is designed to detonate acoustic mines. (One enemy submarine is destroyed by conventional depth charges after being located and tracked by the inductive system: the noisemakers on the four minesweepers render its sound detection equipment useless.) I have not been able to identify anything in the story connected with the third device mentioned by Leinster, the gadget derived from petroleum prospecting. That he fails to use one of the devices he has listed is only one sign that this story was written quickly and inadequately edited; another is that at one point, the narrative confuses the two islands, Kaua and Mahapa. Then there is the overused word “monstrous,” employed eight times in referring to the battleships or various explosions. Finally, there is the plot: the minesweepers just happen to arrive at Kaua with the devices on board to solve a problem of which they have had no advance knowledge. It is overall not one of Leinster’s better stories.
Yet when I read it, I recalled the part of Heinlein’s letter to Scoles quoted in my previous note, which refers to Will F. Jenkins’s suggestions to the Navy:
Enclosed herewith you will find a long memorandum from Will F. Jenkins .... If I understand your original notion in wanting me to dig up science-fiction writers with ideas, this is the sort of memo you have been wanting to get—with the expectation that ninetynine [sic] ideas would be lousy but that the hundredth might prove to be a honey. (163)
Heinlein’s mention of ideas from Jenkins led me to “Growing Up in the Future” by Michael Swanwick <http://www.michaelswanwick.com/nonfic/future. html>, which refers to Jenkins’s statement that when he convinced himself that an invention was not feasible, he could still use that idea in a story. Did that situation apply here? Does “Four Little Ships” use ideas outlined in the memo forwarded to Scoles by Heinlein but rejected by the Navy? The letter from Heinlein to Scoles was written in April 1942; the story appeared in the November issue of Astounding. I can only wonder if a delay in receiving a reply from the Navy regarding his suggestions (along with Campbell’s deadline for the November issue) explains Jenkins’s apparent haste in creating this story. We can only speculate, as we will never know the contents of Jenkins’s memorandum or the Navy’s response.—Edward Wysocki, Orlando, Florida
Evans Receives SFRA’s Clareson Award. At this year’s Science Fiction Research Association conference in Detroit, MI ( “Urban Apocalypse, Urban Renaissance: Landscapes in Science Fiction and Fantasy”), held from 28 June-1 July, 2012, Arthur B. Evans of SFS received the Thomas D. Clareson Award for outstanding service to science fiction. The only member of the SFS board able to attend was Joan Gordon and the only member of the nominating committee able to attend was likewise Joan Gordon; I was honored to present and also to receive the award on behalf of Art. There are many reasons that the committee, consisting of myself, Andrew Sawyer, and Alan Elms, judged that Evans’s award was not only well deserved but long overdue. Readers of this journal may be aware of how valuable Evans has been in many duties beyond the work of editing, since he not only rides herd on the other editors but handles all legal, financial, printing, and distributing details. To the extent that any typographical or other error ever dares to intrude upon the journal, it is in spite of his meticulous marshaling of his co-editors. Beyond all that work, Evans is also a distinguished scholar of Jules Verne and other late-nineteenth century and early twentieth-century Francophone sf authors, as well as General Editor for the “Early Classics of Science Fiction” series for Wesleyan University Press. He was the guiding force behind The Wesleyan Anthology of Science Fiction as well, originating the idea for the project and guiding it through its development and publication.
His brief and gracious acceptance speech made a point of acknowledging “two unsung heroes” of Science Fiction Studies: Richard Dale Mullen and Robert Philmus, “not only because of their vast knowledge of the sf field but also because of their uncompromising demand for accuracy, clarity, and documentational authenticity in every essay they edited for Science Fiction Studies.” He has carried on the tradition of these heroes, and while it is true that we are a collective, greater than any of its parts, it is clear to all the SFS co-editors that Art Evans is the coordinating, collegial force that makes this so.—Joan Gordan, SFS
Superpower: Africa in Science Fiction. From May 5 to July 1, 2012, the Arnolfini gallery in Bristol, UK, was home to “Superpower: Africa in Science Fiction,” an exhibition curated by Nav Haq and Al Cameron. Exemplifying a recent trend for artists to view the continent through science-fictional lenses, it includes work by João Maria Gusmão and Pedro Paiva (Portugal), Kiluanji Kia Henda (Angola), Luis Dourado (Portugal), Mark Aerial Waller (UK), Neïl Beloufa (France), Neill Blomkamp (South Africa/Canada), Omer Fast (Israel/Germany), Paweł Althamer (Poland), Wanuri Kahiu (Kenya), and Bassam El Baroni, Jeremy Beaudry, and Nav Haq (Egypt/US/UK).
Some of the short films on display—Kahui’s Pumzi, set in a water-scarce future Africa, and Blomkamp’s Tetra Val (2004) and Alive in Joburg (2005), the latter of which was hothoused into District 9 (2009)—might already be familiar to readers of SFS. Among them all, the most intriguing is Omer Fast’s Nostalgia (2009), consisting of three parts, each continuously looped in an individually dedicated room. Nostalgia I is a four-and-half minute HD video: in a forest, a white man in camouflage fatigues builds a trap from branches and twine; on the soundtrack, a former Nigerian child soldier talks about his childhood and how a surrogate father figure taught him how to make a partridge trap from branches and twine. Nostalgia II runs for ten minutes on two synchronized HD screens: on the left, the former child soldier, now a man; on the right, Omer Fast. The interview subject does not seem to understand the artist’s questions, and although he describes the partridge trap his father taught him to build from sticks and twine, the artist grows skeptical of the subject’s inability to provide specific detail about growing up in Nigeria. Depending on when you join the film, it sooner or later becomes clear that both men are actors, the interview a reconstruction. The thirty-two minute Nostalgia III, shot on 16mm and transferred to HD, contains eight scenes, with several momentary flash-forwards (or, depending on when you join the film, flashbacks). The setting, loosely sketched in passing hints, is an Africa faced with the problem of illegal immigration from Europe. It is unclear whether this is an alternative present or a future after European civilization has collapsed, but everyone dresses as if they are from 1970s Britain or a British adventure television series of the same period. Nostalgia III alternates scenes from two stories. One follows three British illegal immigrants who meet their fate in secret tunnels under the African security perimeter. It is a linear narrative, albeit with two scenes occurring simultaneously; but the second story is a closed loop. In each scene, one character describes how to make a trap out of sticks and twine, and in the next scene, a character who has heard this information recounts it as first-hand knowledge—A tells B, B tells C, C tells D, D tells A, A tells B, and so on.
While fascinating, Nostalgia is also troubling. Its spiraling narrativization and concomitant destabilization of experience marginalize a specific Nigerian voice, transforming his life into an art-commodity. But it is not as troubling as Blomkamp’s shorts, which contain all the problems of District 9 in embryonic form; or Althamer’s Common Task: Mali, a photographic record of an “encounter” with Dogon villagers that reeks of colonial appropriation and the touristic gaze.
The other highlight is Kia Henda’s Icarus 13 (2008), an installation recounting the first African space mission—an endeavor every bit as foolish as the one in Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s Wizard of the Crow (2006). Launched from Angola, Icarus 13 lands on the surface of the sun (at night, so as to avoid deadly heat) and successfully returns to Earth with “some particles from the photosphere” for laboratory study. The 600-word account of the mission covering one wall culminates in the observation that “from the description given by the astronauts, the Sun has the most beautiful night,” before announcing forthcoming tourist flights to finance further scientific investigations. There are also a tabletop architect’s model of Icarus 13 on the launch-pad and eight photographs. The first shows Icarus 13, rising in the center of the frame, viewed from Luanda, with a vast open sky above and beyond it. The “rocket,” however, is actually the mausoleum of António Agostinho Neto, Angola’s first president, whose base resembles the flared rockets of a Soyuz launch vehicle, while its jagged pinnacle looks like a prototype for London’s The Shard. Other striking buildings are similarly repurposed: a domed structure is labeled “Astronomy Observatory, Namibe Desert” despite its obvious lack of astronomical equipment; and a low, flat building whose obliquely angled walls might suggest, from above, a star shape is described as a “Centre of astronomy and astronaut training, Namibe Desert,” although in reality it is a cinema. A medium shot of five construction workers is captioned “Building the spaceship Icarus 13,” while a yellow torus against a dark background is “First picture of the Sun’s photosphere from Icarus 13 in orbit.” The final photograph, labeled “The return of the astronauts,” prizes open the gap between image and caption even further by containing nothing to which the caption could actually apply. It is a gap that frustrates, calling for the viewer to inflate it with story—just as Kia Henda fills the frustrating gap between the dream of independence and the nightmares of civil war and post-colonial dependence, between socialist aspiration and neo-liberal hegemony, with myth, tall tale, humor, and hope.
Among related events at the Arnolfini, Roger Luckhurst (Birkbeck), Rehan Hyder (UWE) and I ran a workshop, “Martians of Africa,” on the relationship between sf and colonialism, asking what would happen if one considered such anti-colonial and post-colonial films as Les statues meurent aussi (Marker and Resnais France 1953) and La Noire de… (Sembene Senegal/France 1966) as works of sf. The exhibition’s run came to a close with a double bill of Africa Paradis (Amoussou Benin/France 2006) and Les Saignantes (Bekolo Cameroon/France 2005).
Blomkamp’s short films, Gusmão and Paiva’s The Shadow Man (2006-7), and almost all of Beloufa’s Kempinski (2007) are available on youtube. The text of El Baroni, Beaudry and Haq’s second ARPANET dialogue, a fake conversation between Samir Amin, Steve Biko, Francis Fukuyama, and Minoru Yamasaki that would not have seemed out of place in Moorcock’s New Worlds, can be found at <http://www.arpanetdialogues.net/vol-ii/>.—Mark Bould, UWE, Bristol
SF Magazines Online: A Note on the Pulp Magazines Project. The Pulp Magazines Project is an unfunded educational endeavor, in fact, a labor of love: a multi-faceted, open-access digital archive dedicated to the study and preservation of one of the 20th century’s most influential literary and artistic forms: the all-fiction pulpwood magazine. The Project’s website is located at <http://www.pulpmags.org/>, and provides essays and information on the history of this important medium, along with biographies of pulp authors, artists, and publishers. The Books and Essays page features an ever-expanding list of the secondary resources available, while the Digital Archives Hub serves as a kind of clearinghouse for related resources, compiling hundreds of links to full-text archives and fan-based networks online. There are pages devoted to authors’ rates, production and circulation data, and a revolving gallery of pulp magazine cover-images as well.
The Archive itself is at the heart of the Project’s mission. In August 2011, it began with a modest library of five representative first-generation titles from the early 20th century. As of July 2012, this number had grown to over one hundred individual issues, representing forty-three different titles from both the United States and Great Britain. Over time, it will continue to expand, as new magazines are digitized and new essays, images, and contextual materials are added. Eventually, the Archive will feature a wide range of pre-1923 titles, post-1922 titles where the copyright has lapsed, and full-volume runs of select titles from 1896 to 1946.
Of particular interest to readers of Science Fiction Studies is a reprint of an article by R.D. Mullen, founding editor of SFS, of “From Standard Magazines to Pulps and Big Slicks,” which originally appeared in SFS 22.1 (1995): 144-56. It is now lavishly illustrated with twenty-four full-color covers, replacing the small and low-cost gray-scale images used when the essay first appeared in print. Also notable are the Project’s early runs of Hugo Gernsback’s ground-breaking Amazing Stories (Apr-Dec 1926), along with a magazine that was every bit its successor, Wonder Stories (Dec 1930-Oct 1931). Full two-issue runs of Miracle Science and Fantasy (Apr/May-Jun/Jul 1931), Dynamic Science Stories (Feb and Apr/May 1939), and Out of this World Adventures (Jul and Dec 1950) are also available, as well as key issues of Astounding Stories (1932) and Planet Stories (1944).
The Pulp Magazines Project is always on the lookout for new contributors. It is currently in need of biographical notes of approximately 500 words on pulp magazine authors, artists, editors, and publishers. The Project is dedicated to building ties between collectors, fans, and academics devoted to pulp magazines; and will offer opportunities for research and collaboration for scholars and enthusiasts alike. It currently averages over 12,000 page-views per month. Anyone interested should contact us for more details at <info@pulpmags.org>.—Patrick Scott Belk, Department of English, Univ. of Tulsa
SF at FAU. Florida Atlantic University’s concentration in SF and Fantasy Studies, one of six specialized options within its MA program in English, marks its tenth anniversary this Fall. Establishing a formal concentration acknowledged strong and longstanding student interest: about 20% of MA theses at FAU have always focused on sf or fantasy, in early years largely due to the inspiring teaching and intense mentoring of Robert A. Collins. Today, four faculty members offer graduate seminars in the sf concentration and some of our students have gone on to PhD study; others have enrolled in the Clarion sf seminars.—Carol McGuirk, Florida Atlantic University
Third SF Hire at UC Riverside. Despite a severe hiccough caused by the 2009 California budget crisis, Dean Stephen Cullenberg’s plan to hire three faculty to form a science fiction cluster in the College of Humanities, Arts, and Social Sciences at the University of California, Riverside has at last come to fruition. The hire of sf author Nalo Hopkinson, which had been delayed due to funding issues, was finalized for the 2011-12 academic year, and Nalo is now an Associate Professor in the Department of Creative Writing. A search for a third position, in Science Fiction Media Studies, was mounted in the Fall and Winter quarters of 2011-12, chaired by me and consisting of faculty from the departments of Creative Writing, English, Ethnic Studies, and Media and Cultural Studies. The search was open both by rank and disciplinary training, and we received almost 70 applications from scholars at all career levels and from four different continents. Finalists were brought to campus in February, and an offer was ultimately made to Sherryl Vint, coeditor of this journal and founding coeditor of Science Fiction Film and Television. Sherryl’s appointment as Professor of English was made official in July, and she will join our faculty for the Fall 2012 term. I want to thank my search committee for their diligent work and to salute Dean Cullenberg for his vision and commitment to building this sf cluster. Nalo’s, Sherryl’s, and my next task will be to plan the future growth of sf studies at UCR, both in terms of curriculum building and of broader intellectual initiatives in the field. Stay tuned.—Rob Latham, UC Riverside
Winners Of the 2012 SF&F Translation Awards. The Association for the Recognition of Excellence in SF & F Translation (ARESFFT) is delighted to announce the winners of the 2012 Science Fiction and Fantasy Translation Awards (for works published in 2011). The long-form winner is Zero by Huang Fan, translated from the Chinese by John Balcom (Columbia University Press). Said Jury Chair Dale Knickerbocker, “The author skillfully weaves elements from the masterpieces of dystopian fiction into his own very unique text, and the translator successfully communicates the work’s stark, frightening nature. Zero’s surprise denouement takes Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle a step further, wedding it with a touch of Asimov’s The Gods Themselves.”
The short-form winner is “The Fish of Lijiang” by Chen Qiufan, translated from the Chinese by Ken Liu (Clarkesworld #59, August 2011), which was described by our judges as “brilliant,” “original,” and “a lovely and devastating story, beautifully written and translated,” presenting “an interesting take on mental illness and wellness, work, and future technologies. In the tradition of the best sf, it offers a convincing extrapolation of the economic and consequent social changes that China has undergone in the past 30 years.”
The winners were announced at Finncon 2012 <http://2012.finncon.org/>, held in Tampere, Finland from July 19-20; the awards were announced by jury member Irma Hirsjärvi and ARESFFT Board member Cheryl Morgan. The winning authors and their translators will each receive an inscribed plaque and a cash prize of $350. ARESFFT President Gary K. Wolfe comments that “I’m delighted that the hard work of our distinguished jurors has resulted in such an impressive list of winners and nominees, and—equally important—that the international science fiction and fantasy community has taken this award to heart in terms of supplying nominees and suggestions for nominees. Congratulations not only to the winning authors and translators, but to everyone who has helped make these awards a viable and invaluable project.” The jury consisted of Dale Knickerbocker (Chair); Kari Maund, Abhijit Gupta, Hiroko Chiba, Stefan Ekman, Ekaterina Sedia, Felice Beneduce, and Irma Hirsjärvi. ARESFFT is a California Non-Profit Corporation funded entirely by donations.—Cheryl Morgan, The Association for Recognition of Excellence in Science Fiction and Fantasy Translation
African SF: Call for Submissions. Paradoxa is seeking previously unpublished essays on subjects related to African science fiction. In 2010, Pumzi, the first Kenyan sf movie, won the best short-film award at the Cannes Independent Film Festival; the South African co-production District 9 was nominated for multiple Oscars. In 2011, Nigerian-American Nnedi Okorafor became the first author of African extraction to win the World Fantasy Award with Who Fears Death and South African Lauren Beukes became the first person from Africa to win the Arthur C. Clarke Award with Zoo City.
Recent journal issues (African Identities 7.2, SFS 34.2 (2007), Social Text 20.2), edited collections (Barr’s Afro-Future Females) and monographs (Lavender’s Race in American Science Fiction, Nama’s Black Space and Super Black) have been devoted to afrofuturism, African-American sf and African Americans in sf. In addition, there have been numerous publications on the relationships among sf, imperialism, colonialism, postcolonialism, globalization and Empire (SFS 118, Hoagland/Sarwal’s Science Fiction, Imperialism and the Third World, Kerslake’s Science Fiction and Empire, Langer’s Postcolonialism and Science Fiction, Raja/Ellis/Nandi’s The Postnational Fantasy, Rieder’s Colonialism and the Emergence of Science Fiction). Yet sf from Africa, and the Africa(s) in sf, remain relatively unexplored. In order to address this lacuna, the “Africa SF” issue of Paradoxa is interested in essays that address:
1. Critical work on sf by Africans, including such novels as Mohammed Dib’s Who Remembers the Sea (1962), Sony Labou Tansi’s Life and a Half (1977), Kojo Laing’s Woman of the Aeroplanes (1988), Major Gentl and the Achimota Wars (1992), and Big Bishop Roko and the Altar Gangsters (2006), Ngũugĩi wa Thiong’o’s Wizard of the Crow (2006), Lauren Beukes’ Moxyland (2008) and Zoo City (2010), and Ahmed Khaled Towfik’s Utopia (2008), as well as such films as Sankofa (Gerima 1993), Les Saignantes (Bekolo 2005), Africa Paradis (Amoussou 2006), District 9 (Blomkamp 2009), Pumzi (Kahiu 2009), and Kajola (Akinmolayan 2010). Can such novels as Ousmane Sembene’s The Last of the Empire (1981) and Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani’s I Do Not Come to You By Chance (2009) be productively read as sf? Is there African sf produced in other media?
2. Critical work on Afrodiasporic authors, filmmakers, musicians, and artists, especially as they address Africa, imperialism, colonialism, postcolonialism, globalization, Empire, and/or diaspora. Among such authors are Steven Barnes, Octavia Butler, Copperwire, Samuel R. Delany, Tananarive Due, Minister Faust, Andrea Hairston, Pauline Hopkins, Nalo Hopkinson, T. Shirby Hodge, Anthony Joseph, LaBelle, Nnedi Okorafor, Outkast, Parliament-Funkadelic, Charles Saunders, George S. Schuyler, Nishi Shawl, Sun Ra, and John A. Williams.
3. Critical work on the representation of Africa in sf by non-African authors, such as J.G. Ballard, V.F. Calverton, George Alec Effinger, Jon Courtenay Grimwood, Theodor Hertzka, Julian Huxley, A.M. Lightner, Ian MacDonald, Mike Resnick, Mack Reynolds, Jules Verne, as well as in comics (e.g., Marvel’s Black Panther, the British-authored Nigerian Powerman) and other media.Prospective contributors may contact the guest editor with questions about a particular topic’s appropriateness. Double-spaced submissions should be between 6,000 and 10,000 words in length, not including “Works Cited,” and prepared in accordance with MLA style. Please forward manuscripts as MS Word attachments. Within the email itself include name, affiliation, 250-word abstract, and any other relevant information. Submissions should be directed to Paradoxa’s guest editor, Mark Bould <mark.bould@gmail.com>, before March 1, 2013. For more information about Paradoxa, see <www.paradoxa. com>.—Mark Bould, UWE, Bristol
Sherryl Vint to Become Notes and Correspondence Editor. With Carol McGuirk’s decision to step down after fifteen years, potential contributors to SFS’s “Notes and Correspondence” section should be aware that all future contributions, whether letters or Notes items, should be sent to Sherryl Vint at <sherrylvint@gmail.com>.—Carol McGuirk, SFS
Back to Home