Introduction to Golden Apples of the Sun
First of all, starting a story with a pun is not fair. Because the reader is unprepared for the pun. Sometimes the reader misses the pun for days, maybe weeks, maybe years afterward. A titular pun, after all, becomes plain only in hindsight.
Michael Swanwick takes full credit for that pun, but I have my doubts. You see, in all the years I’ve known Michael (and I must say now that I don’t know him well), I’ve never heard him pun.
So I figure he had to be under the influence. Not of alcohol or any illegal drug—but of Dozois.
Let me explain the Dozois influence, if I can. It’s rather alarming at first, especially to newer writers who expect established pros to be—well—courteous, neat and quiet. I don’t know where new writers get that image. I know dozens, maybe hundreds, of professional writers and none of them are courteous, neat or quiet. Sometimes they pretend to be, but that’s a different story.
I admit I have been under the influence. I have made rude jokes, sparred verbally with all sorts of inappropriate people, and made horrible puns. (I did, however, get my pun training as a journalist. I was armed when I walked into the Dozois camp the first time.)
Even though I’ve been under the influence, I’ve managed to retain some decorum. I have never, for example, stuck a used lollipop up my nose. (Yes, there are people whose stories you have probably read who did that, one sober (we’re always sober it seems—which should frighten you even more) night in Providence, Rhode Island.) I have never touched Gardner’s knob, although I did hold him down while another woman not his wife searched him for it. (And it was a doorknob, people. Take your minds out of the gutter.)
But I must confess that I have, with Gardner’s help, scared waiters so badly they quit in the middle of serving our meal. I have asked other sf writers strange questions like: if your body parts can sing, what would their favorite songs be? I have even discussed UFO-inspired anal probes in an online chat, something I never would have done if Dozois weren’t influencing me from Philadelphia, almost an entire continent away.
Why do I tell you all of this in a serious volume dedicated to Gardner’s work? Because, in addition to being one of our very best writers, Gardner is also one of our very best instigators. Not just of mayhem at conventions although, since we live on different sides of the country, that’s mostly where we see each other so that’s where I’m certain he does these things. But he commits instigations of a collaborative nature.
Without Dozois, I contend, there would have been no pun in the title of “Golden Apples of the Sun.” There would have been no computer salesman in the land of Faerie, and there would not have been that wonderful image of Titania in a bar in Jersey.
Now, Michael Swanwick and Jack Dann can hold their own against the Instigator Dozois. I would contend that Jack is probably as big an instigator as Gardner, only Jack’s methods are a lot more subtle. Michael can elevate any free-ranging discussion, whether we’re talking about conjugating Latin verbs (don’t ask) or building a dinosaur from scratch. So yes, they’re a good match for the Instigator Dozois.
But that doesn’t make them immune.
I’ve never seen the three of them perform a brain-storming. The idea scares me, if the truth be told. I think there could be enough talent and free-flowing creativity in the room to be dangerous. An innocent bystander might get hurt.
(And I can just hear Gardner’s rejoinder: Well, then, Kris. If innocent bystanders get hurt, you’ll have nothing to worry about.)
Gardner’s solo stories are usually serious. They’re powerful, literate examinations of our world and times, often with a sf premise. He doesn’t write enough of them (dammit, Dozois—start typing now!), but when he does, the world should sit up and notice.
As serious as Gardner’s solo stories usually are, his collaborations reflect the madcap Gardner that his friends know. The man who can wield a pun with the force of a dagger. The man who can devastate entire rooms with a single quip. The man who can scare waiters with a high-pitched giggle.
That man demurely says he “unifies” the collaborative stories he writes with Jack and Michael. Unifies. Sure. Maybe after he’s added something sufficiently goofy. Maybe after he’s invented his own Spenserian dialect.
Yeah, right. Dozois unifies—and instigates. Read Michael Swanwick’s account of how this story came to be in Gardner’s wonderful collection of collaborative stories, Slow Dancing Through Time. See whose comment started the cascade of ideas that led to this marvelous story.
I’ll give you a hint. It wasn’t Mr. Swanwick or Mr. Dann.
I tell you: Dozois is an instigator. And your first clue should be that pun in the title. Courtesy (wink, wink) of Michael Swanwick.
Kristine Kathryn Rusch