October 22: Gods of Earth launch party. With artisanal beer!

Gods Of Earth (cover)My good friends Joe and Tim are going to throw a book launch party for Gods of Earth October 22; everyone is invited, and it’s at artisanal brewery Fairport Brewing Company, so there will be great beer available.  Here are the official details:

Book Launch Party

Fairport novelist Craig DeLancey will read from his novel Gods of Earth, sign copies, and answer your questions.

Open to any and all book lovers.

Artisan Fairport Brewing Co beer and copies of Gods of Earth will be available for purchase.

WHEN:  Tuesday, October 22nd from 7:00 PM to 10:00 PM

WHERE:  Fairport Brewing Company, 99 South Main Street, Fairport, NY, 14450, at the corner of Main Street and Church Street.  Parking available at the Village Landing.


Addendum: The organizers are hoping to get a rough head count so we know how much pizza (free to attendees!) to get.  If you’re coming, and don’t mind spending a minute helping us get the head count, please register (it takes 2 seconds) at:


A Great Reader for Gods of Earth!


I’m delighted that Nick Podehl will be reading Gods of Earth for the Brilliance Audio edition.  Nick has been the reader for bestselling authors like Danielle Steel, Nora Roberts, and in fantasy, Patrick Rothfuss.  His voice will be perfect for Chance Kyrien, and he has an astonishing range that’ll really bring alive characters like the Guardian and Sarah.

I do wonder how he’ll manage a stuttering coyote….

thousands of excitement some time ago, the crippled sprint god of the biting war

So, when you write a novel, you eventually have to create lots of these ancillary documents:  descriptions, synopses, outlines, book jacket copy, and so on.  So with delight I discover that all that hard work can be simplified with (I assume) the magic of Google translator.  For someone is promoting my book (thanks!) with what appears to be a Google translation of a Google translation (my guess:  from English to Chinese back to English, but that’s just a guess).  And it’s so… distinctive.

In the pensive fatality, thousands of excitement some time ago a war versus worldly gods has grief-stricken the Come to rest, the waif witch child Turning Kyrien is adopted and raised by the Purimen, a request of stanch winemakers who hold renounced all machinery. Determined and violently devout, Turning dreams of zip but animation a good farmer and marrying the being he loves, the Puriman Ranger, Sarah Michaels. But Turning has been personal by the witches concerning the Purimen given that he has a power that may well unbalance the world, and bring again the age of the worldly gods.

Equally the crippled sprint god of the biting war attacks Chance’s lodge, the in the early hours Puriman learns that his completely long for is to travel to the pensive Numin Penalty, wherever he can covering the god of its powers and become threadbare it companion. Turning is helped in his examination by Sarah and a group of unmen that he would hold denounced as dirty balance weeks before: a vernacular coyote, an sharp machine, a witch of the nightclub that shaped the worldly gods, and the ancient anti-god known as the Guardian. Can Turning joist his good name and lie down a Puriman, as he uncovers the darkest secrets of worldly history, and fights a become threadbare that threatens to beat what association of the Earth?

All I can say is:  I couldn’t have said it like that myself.

Gods of Earth forthcoming on 47North

My novel Gods of Earth is coming out on 47North Press.  Look for the ebook very soon, the trade paper late in the summer, and the audiobook shortly thereafter.

I spent a few years writing Gods of Earth, and it has a lot of me in it.  I’m glad to see it find a nice home.  It’s an adventure full of philosophy and history and rich characters.  I think people will appreciate the detail, strangeness, and coherence of the world it portrays.  Look for it!

Here’s a description of the book:

A boy must fight gods. And only one girl can save him.

In the distant future, thousands of years after a war against human gods has devastated the Earth, the orphan witch child Chance Kyrien is adopted and raised by the Purimen, a sect of religious winemakers who have renounced all technology. Ambitious and fiercely devout, Chance dreams of nothing but being a good farmer and marrying the woman he loves, the Puriman Ranger, Sarah Michaels. But Chance has been hidden by the witches among the Purimen because he has a power that could change the world, and bring again the age of the human gods. When the crippled last god of the great war attacks Chance’s family, the young Puriman learns that his only hope is to travel to the distant Numin Well, where he can strip the god of its powers and battle it alone. Chance is helped in his quest by Sarah and a group of unmen that he would have denounced as impure just weeks before: a talking coyote, an intelligent machine, a witch of the guild that created the human gods, and the ancient anti-god known as the Guardian.

Can Sarah keep Chance safe long enough to let him fight a god? And can Chance keep his faith and remain a Puriman, as he uncovers the darkest secrets of human history, and fights a battle that threatens to destroy what remains of the Earth?

The Cliche, or at least the Prejudice, of the Incomprehensible Alien

It’s an interesting theme of course, and as such worth exploration.  I would not disparage the idea of the incomprehensible extraterrestrial.  And, it has been very well done.  Lem’s Solaris, for example, is a masterwork of the subgenre.  And Tarkovsky’s filming of Solaris, a masterwork of SF film.

But, most times, I just don’t buy it.  A biological intelligence would have evolved — by definition.  And the constraints of evolution are universal.  Cultures can grow into dizzying varieties, of course, and as such resist explanation; but, in the end, each must obey the constraints of biology, or the culture will perish, and this provides the common foundation that means understanding must in principle be possible.  Just so, in the end, we can penetrate the purposes of an ant or a vampire squid, and we can penetrate the reasoning of a Yanomamo or Heroic-Age Greek.

I wonder if the idea of the incomprehensible alien is not a part or product of that greater cliche — the Great Cliche, we might call it:  the lazy pessimism of contemporary SF literature.  All is miserable in the future, our most awarded writers tell us.  Even those inclined not to people the future with cannibals roving sunken cities are likely to portray the future as at best incomprehensible (the singularity!).  This social and political pessimism bleeds over to an epistemic pessimism.  And yet, the evidence is against this misery mongery.

So there is here an interesting challenge:  SF that is optimistic, while realistic; that portrays aliens that are genuinely strange, but not incomprehensible.

This is a theme (or is it a meta-theme?) that I want to explore more.

Turing. And Godel. And Cantor.

My story, “The Man Who Betrayed Turing,” is available (for free) at Cosmos Online.  Cosmos is a fine Australian magazine, which does not have an equivalent on this side of the globe.  A bit like Omni, but not really — more as if Discover Magazine regularly ran SF.

The story aims to be one of a series of — what shall I call them?  Mathematical fantasies?  I’ve written two plays about Godel, but I also have a flash fiction about Godel in Shimmer, of which I am fond.  The Turing story is a kind of sequel to that, in my mind.  I’m working on one about Cantor now — though it is coming slow.

The story is at:


The historical figures are rather closely based on fact.  Whether the future figures are accurate — well, time will tell.

I hope you like it.  Let me know if you did.


An update from June, 2014:  The Cantor story, called “Cantor’s Dragon,” will be coming out in the November 2014 issue of Shimmer.

“Julie is Three” wins the Anlab!

Just returned from the annual SFWA meeting, AKA “the nebs.”  I was delighted to receive the Anlab award for short story for my “Julie is Three.”  Here’s the crew of 2012 Anlab winners:

  • Best Novella:  “With Unclean Hands,” Adam-Troy Castro (11/11)
  • Best Novelette, tie:  “Jak and the Beanstalk,” by Richard A. Lovett (7-8/11), “Betty Knox and Dictionary Jones in the Mystery of the Missing Teenage Anachronisms,” John G. Hemry
  • Best Short Story:  “Julie is Three,” Craig DeLancey (3/11)
  • Best Fact Article: “Smart SETI,” Gregory and James Benford
  • Best Cover: December 2011 (for “Ray of Light”) by Bob Eggleton

All I can think is:  I won an award that Clifford Simak and David Brin won!

I took a tour of the Smithsonian Air & Space museum led by astronaut Mike Fincke, a true Ubermensch, who answered all those questions writers want to ask, like, are the gloves stiff on those suits?  (Not in the American ones.)  Is it noisy in the shuttle while you’re going up? (It was a smooth ride after the solid rocket boosters were ejected.)  Do you get nausea in microgravity?  (Everyone does, but for different folks it lasts more or less time.)  And I learned lots of details I didn’t even think to ask about: the yanks breathe pure oxygen in their suits, and that it gives you a wicked dry throat.  And so on.

Best of all, I had the opportunity to meet legends (Stan Schmidt!  Gregory Benford!) and lots of soon to be legends.

The Polis of Positive Criticism? For you, I mean.

A kerfuffle in fiction!  Christopher Priest declares the Clarke Award short list dreadful.  Priest is a very admirable writer.  So are the people he criticizes.  Favorite of criticisms is calling Charlie Stross an internet puppy.  I like the internet, and I love my puppy,

and so this aligns with my liking Stross.  Similar praise could be offered by me about Mieville.

But I confess I appreciate the provocation.  It’s interesting to watch the prods of a critic, if she or he is thoughtful.  It makes you consider about the craft a bit more carefully.  And, published criticism of any kind of my own work is sometimes helpful to me.

But here’s the rub: most critics are presumably writing not for the producers but rather for the consumers (or, if you prefer, the ingesters) of art.  And I suspect, as a consumer of art, a negative criticism has never done me any good.

It helps me not at all to to be told a book is terrible or a film is inane or a play is a wreck.  I would not have read the book or seen the movie or play anyway.  Our problem as consumers of art is not to filter out the bad, as if there were so few options we could benefit from excluding one or two.  It is not the case that we have so few options that shaking out a few will leave us with only good works as remnants.  Our problem is to find the good in a forest of options.  We don’t need filters.  We need pointers.

If you ask a guide for directions and she points one way or another and says, “don’t go that way,” she has done you no good.  She’s wasted your time.  There are boundless directions you can take.  Ruling out one is nearly worthless.  If instead your guide points the way to some specific and beneficent location, she has done you a service.

The great service, and I suspect the only service, critics have done me, as a consumer of art, is to point out something good that I otherwise would have missed.  When someone directs me to a body of work I did not know and which I come to love, they have added value.  I’m greatly indebted.  What a great gift to have first been pointed to Tarkovsky, the Strugatsky brothers, Conor McPherson, Anselm Keifer….  The best criticism in the world would be a list of good things I’ve not discovered.  But when the critic tells me something is not good, she is just howling in the noise — indeed, she is just adding to the noise.  She has wasted my time (again, I mean my time as a consumer, as an appreciator, of art).

This is why criticism can seem self-indulgent.  Who are those snide comments meant to help?  Are they really just self-assertion?  One wonders if they compete with art — if these critical works all say, don’t look at that, don’t read that, look at me, read me.

In his book Real Presences, George Steiner imagines a polity without criticism, where the artwork is experienced always directly.  He recognizes that — at least in the Twentieth Century — criticism (he may mean academic criticism) had become the envy-driven enemy of art.  He concludes, however, by recognizing that the polity without criticism is an ideal we shall never have.  Fair enough, but why not strive for a polity of positive criticism?

Still, as a writer, I appreciate the negative criticisms.  Even if, as I said, I doubt they are meant for the likes of me.