People I read

Posted by Athena Scalzi

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2025/08/13/the-big-idea-fran-wilde-4/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=56824

What is a story? Is it a form of time travel, where the author can speak to those in the future from the past? Is it a conversation between the reader and the author? Fran Wilde explores this idea in the Big Idea for her newest collection of short stories, A Catalog of Storms. Follow along and see how transformative of an experience a story can be.

FRAN WILDE:

A Catalog of Ideas, Transformed

The stories in A Catalog of Storms span a decade of my writing career — from my first Asimov’s stories that merge ghosts, tech, and nature, to several very recent ones that blend science, mythology, and weather. 

A collection of short stories is, by its very nature, a catalog of ideas passed from author to reader. It contains work that bridges years and forms a kind of conversation across time, both between each story, and with the readers of those stories. 

This is a very difficult thing to sort into a single big idea. So, naurally, I started a conversation in my head with my very kind blog host about the problem.

Me, while trying to write this post: “How does one write a single big idea essay about a collection of short stories, John Scalzi. They’re all different!” 

Scalzi: Smiles beatifically and devours a churro.

Me, continuing to think: “Each story exists as a moment in time —or moments: the writing moment, the reading moment — And all of them together exist as ideas across time… AND then the collection gathers all of those moments and ideas together and wraps a cover (in the case of A Catalog of Storms, a gorgeous cover) around them… presenting them as bound. But the big idea that holds them together? What is that? The author? The genre? When the author’s genre is multitudinous, (and I definitely contain multitudes), there’s got to be a more specific gravity to things than just me. What is it?”

Scalzi: Picks up his guitar and plays the smallest, saddest note. 

Me, forging ahead: This collection contains ideas that blend and merge, shift and transmutate. The title story, “A Catalog of Storms,” began as part of a set of Ovidian-inflected science fictions that started with “Only their Shining Beauty Was Left,” (which is partly about people turning into trees, and partly my attempt to sneak a zombie story into Clarkesworld (I failed; don’t try it kids, Neil doesn’t play)), …. and turned into something much more about a relationship to family, world, and weather, and weather’s relationship with us… and beyond that even, to our interconnectedness. 

A baker’s dozen more of the stories within the collection follow a similar path — they started out as simple stories, then gained layers and wings and changes: becoming ambulatory apartment buildings, sentient storms, very angry museum exhibits, people turning into trees, birds becoming human (and otherwise), and everything everywhere being connected to and impacting everything else…  

The conversational thread between the stories, and the Big Idea, I realize, is…

Scalzi: nods and smiles, as one does when one knows someone has the answer in their heart the whole time. 

… transformation/transmutation. That’s the big idea that weaves through the stories in A Catalog of Storms, (and if I’m honest, Scalzi, much of my short fiction.)  Where transformation is large-scale structural or philosophical change, and transmutation is change or alteration in nature or essence — on a molecular level. 

For me, transformation and transmutation are what I’m often aiming for as a writer. Not just in a story, or a collection, but each time I sit down to write. An alchemy of words and plot that changes not just the objects and characters in the story, but also the writer, and – hopefully – the reader.

And while it’s also true that several of these stories were inspired by Ovidian transformations, others observe and embody change through who is doing the telling. 

Scalzi raises one eyebrow as if he wonders whether I’m going to make him do the heavy lifting for this entire essay.

And most of all, the big idea of storytelling (see how I transmuted the topic from one collection to all of storytelling?) …

Scalzi raises the other eyebrow and looks at my thesis sideways. 

… is that the person experiencing the story — any story, but especially a good story — is (hopefully in a good way) transformed by the experience. 

By moving from the beginning of a story to the end, we are changed.

Each of the fourteen stories in A Catalog of Storms changed me: I learned more about language and the world each time I sat down to write, each time I engaged in the conversation. I hope you find many stories that change you too. 

A Catalog of Storms: Amazon|Barnes & Noble|Bookshop|Powell’s

Author socials: Website|Bluesky|Instagram|Facebook

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2025/08/13/the-big-idea-fran-wilde-4/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=56824

Posted by Athena Scalzi

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2025/08/13/going-greek-at-manna/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=56806

As much as I frequent Salar, I almost never visit their sister restaurant, Manna Uptown. It opened about three years ago, which I had been really excited for, but it’s actually like twenty minutes further from me than Salar, which is already forty-five minutes. So, I don’t get out there often, but it’s a beautiful space that I would like to try to visit more often.

In the spirit of that desire, I decided to attend their “Chef Talks” event last week. A fifty dollar ticket got you a three-course meal with an accompanying glass of your choice of red, white, or bubbly wine. The theme of the evening was Greece, as Chef Margot had just returned from a trip overseas to Greece, and wanted to serve us some authentic Greek food.

If you haven’t been to Manna before, it’s located smack-dab in the middle of Centerville’s historic downtown area, and is in a beautifully restored multi-level house. With velvet seats, marble throughout, and chandeliers to spare, its sleek, sophisticated atmosphere is the perfect accompaniment to their modern European menu and excellent cocktails.

For this event, it was located on the second floor of the restaurant, and everyone was sat at one of two large tables. I went alone, and sitting at a big table with people I’ve never met always proves to be more interesting than if I’d sat alone. I know it’d make a lot of people anxious, but I find it fun.

The tables were set with our silverware and the menu:

I had to do a double take at the menu, because the first course and third course share a name. Just a typo, but I found it amusing.

The table also had some fresh flowers in vases, and some rolls in baskets with oil to dip it in.

I was one of the very few people who chose bubbles over the red or white wine, and I was served a lovely rosé:

Soon enough, the first course came out:

I really liked the presentation of this dish, I thought it was rather striking. I must admit I’m not the biggest fan of octopus, I usually find it to be really rubbery and tough, and I generally don’t like the spectacle of the suction cups and whatnot (I have the same issue with calamari when it’s not just like, a round circle piece).

Anyways, apparently they’re a very popular choice of protein in Greece. I will say this octopus was certainly the most tender I’d ever had, and it was a pretty generous portion. I’m not sure if it’s pita or naan on the side, but it was really soft. I loved the texture of the puree, and the lemon and olive oil really added some brightness. I do feel like the octopus was like, largely unseasoned, but overall I was pretty happy with this course.

The second course came with a Greek side salad which they brought out first:

This was just a super classic Greek salad, nice and acidic from the olives and vinaigrette, plenty of feta, solid side salad.

And the real star of the show, the beef and orzo stew:

Y’all. I have been dreaming of this stew everyday for the past week. This was the most warm, comforting, delicious bowl of stew I’ve ever had. The orzo and roasted carrots were so soft, the meat was incredibly tender, it was pleasantly cinnamon-y and just tasted like a hug. I was immediately transported to a winter’s evening, sitting in front of the fireplace with a big bowl of this delectable stew. Lord have mercy, I love this stew.

Last, but certainly not least, this citrus cake:

Are you kidding me?! That’s so pretty. Classy, even. I absolutely adored this cake. It was dense and perfectly soaked with the citrus syrup, and the vanilla ice cream couldn’t have been a better accompaniment. The fresh orange flavor with the creamy vanilla was truly a treat. I left this meal totally satisfied.

I think for fifty dollars this event was worth it. Three courses plus a glass of wine and gratuity included? Pretty decent price! I’m glad I got to try some Greek food, as it’s not something I eat often (or ever, actually), and I was happy to finally revisit Manna. The people I sat next to ended up being pretty cool and a lot of fun to talk to, so that was nice, too.

Do you like Greek food? Which dish looks the best to you? Let me know in the comments, be sure to check out Manna on Instagram, and have a great day!

-AMS

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2025/08/13/going-greek-at-manna/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=56806

Posted by Athena Scalzi

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2025/08/12/the-big-idea-tim-chawaga/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=56796

Life should be a party. Author Tim Chawaga is here today to expand upon this idea, showing us that parties can come in many forms. Follow along in the Big Idea for his newest novel, Salvagia, to see just how much can be worth celebrating.

TIM CHAWAGA:

When I was in college I was briefly obsessed with something called the Emergency Party Button.

It’s exactly what it sounds like:  a metal box with a big red button on a coffee table in a sparse living room not too different from the sort of white-walled, “IKEA-showroom-post-hurricane” spaces that I would occupy for most of my 20s. When the button is pressed, there is a brief hesitation, and then the blinds close, the lamps dim and change colors, What is Love blasts at a voice-drowning volume. Laser lights, strobe lights and fog machine all activate in succession. You can imagine a party being there but of course there isn’t one… just a lone genius standing behind his phone, panning the camera around the empty room for three whole minutes. I was dumbstruck by their ingenuity. I also wondered how many party emergencies such a person could possibly have.

I was a theater major, and this was exactly the kind of theater that I loved—immersive, experimental, unexpected, delightful. I was also in college, and decided that the EPB was essential for the two-bedroom apartment I shared with five other people. 

So I tried to build one myself. Despite a technical page with detail approaching the Unabomber journal, I failed. Today, after decades of technological advancement, personal technical experience and a net worth consistently above zero, I feel I am no closer. If anything, my time in tech (particularly in IT) has taught me that anything so bespoke, with so many moving parts (especially IoT parts from different brands with different, proprietary operating systems), will simply create more problems than they could ever hope to solve. The internet is now awash with EPBs, but I have lost faith that behind these social media blips of seamless button/party bliss is anything other than days of labor, thousands of dollars in materials and installment, and the same three minutes of solitary camera panning. A Potemkin party.

The Big Idea at the root of my novel, Salvagia, (and, now that I think about it, much of my writing in general) is this: the power of the individual to build a true Emergency Party Button is a basic human right that we (read: I) have been denied, and will continue to be denied for at least another century, until our anger ossifies, and we pursue drastic action.

On the surface, Salvagia is a sci-fi mystery with all the trappings of both genres: dead bodies, mechanical alligators, a drag race to space (just to name a few).

My protagonist, Triss Mackey, was raised by a class of nomads descended from today’s “right-to-repair” movement, who roam the country “liberating” tech and IP from feds and corporations. She’s currently stuck in a dead-end government job pulling up air conditioners from a part of the flooded South Florida coast known as the “yoreshore”, the area between where the shore used to be and where it is now. 

The feds are about to abandon Florida and deregulate the coast. The yoreshore is on the cusp of a real estate boom, and all sorts of groups are about to come in and build it up again. Most of them are the familiar types, the ones responsible for ruining the coast in the first place—developers and corporate mafias, with shady crypto cults funding it all. 

But there are a couple of people who don’t work for anybody, who are just looking for a quiet little spot to dream up a new, sustainable way of living.

Building in the yoreshore, in other words, is their Emergency Party Button.

Because the power to build a true Emergency Party Button, to walk through the world and instantly partify the air around them, is the same as the power to build a filter to clean water from any source, or to generate enough energy to sustain oneself with a surplus for the community. It’s self-sufficiency, created from a subjective place of joy, in service of that all-American pursuit of happiness.

And we should be creating more examples of joyful technology in science fiction. We should depict the ways in which technology can expand our freedoms, bring us closer together and enhance what makes us human, like any good party does. 

In the world of Salvagia, just like today, technology is largely controlled by the distant and powerful, to exploit and control. Those who want to build a better way are willing to hide, fight, and steal the means to do so. 

A true Emergency Party Button is the radical future we deserve, the future we were promised. It is essential to believe this now, to envision the kinds of parties we could be having, to build the fighting spirit required to seize them.

Salvagia: Amazon|Barnes & Noble|Bookshop|Powell’s

Author socials: Website|Instagram|Bluesky|Goodreads

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2025/08/12/the-big-idea-tim-chawaga/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=56796

Posted by John Scalzi

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2025/08/11/poking-the-discourse-bear-re-classic-science-fiction/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=56787

Over on Bluesky I got a lot of guff about the above post, but you know what? I 100% stand by it. I’m 56 now, and if you’re recommending the same science fiction books to a ten-year-old today that would have been recommended to me when I was a ten-year-old — and were old and kinda dated even then — I think you should seriously reconsider recommending science fiction books to young readers.

Why? Well, for just two things, either you are so far behind in your science fiction reading that you can’t think of a science fiction work from the two-and-half-decades of this millennium (not to mention possibly the three decades immediately preceding that time frame in the previous millennium) that you could recommend to a young reader, which is not great, or you have kept up with the last twenty-five years of science fiction writing and think none of it is worthy of recommendation to the youth of today. In which case, on behalf of every science fiction writer who first started publishing in this century (and all the ones who debuted before then, but have kept on writing): Rude. There’s been a lot of fantastic work in the last twenty-five years that stands at least equal to what was written before, that you could recommend to new and/or young readers of the genre. If you can’t acknowledge that, this is a you problem.

“But the kids should read the classics!” Well, one, as I wrote almost exactly five years ago, “the science fiction canon” is dead, so this is an arguable statement, especially for a casual reader; and two, even if one were to stipulate that there is an essential canon of classic works every science fiction fan should read, it does not necessarily follow that every young reader needs to read them to start off. Start young readers with interesting accessible contemporary work that brings them through the door and gets them curious as to what else is out there, at which point they may well wander back into the “classics” arm of the genre and delight in what they find there. But if that’s the only door you can show them into the genre, you’re doing them and the genre we all mutually love a disservice.

And anyway, it’s kind of ridiculous. As I said in a different Bluesky post:

To be clear, it’s not that the Kim Sisters aren’t cool, or unimportant to the overall history of K-Pop. They are cool, and important! But the hard swing from “Golden” to this is rough, to say the least.

And then there’s the Suck Fairy to consider, and my own complementary twist on that idea, the Sixteen Candles Problem, in which you show something you loved as a young person to a young person today, and you’re both horrified at all the problematic bullshit in the thing that your brain just plain forgot was there (seriously, don’t show Sixteen Candles to anyone born in the 21st Century without watching it first. You have forgotten how awful it actually is). So if you’re out here blithely suggesting sixty-year-old science fiction books to the youth of today, let me ask: When was the last time you read the thing you’re suggesting? Is it more than a decade? Maybe read it again? Because you may find the casual sexism/racism/other -isms are there a lot more than you remember, or the prose more wooden, or the dialogue rather more stiff, or the plots more iffy, or some combination of above.

(And if you read it and you don’t find any of those things, ask yourself: Am I a white dude who doesn’t actually have to think about racism/sexism/etc on a regular basis? Because that will maybe be a filter you need to consider. I know it’s fashionable in the current era, seeing as we now have mask-off bigots running the government, to have white dudes consider having to acknowledge that filter to be deeply unfair, but, you know. Try anyway.)

It’s all right if you love something that hasn’t aged well! Everything ages, and much of it not especially gracefully. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t important to you or that it doesn’t have value. It’s also okay to have that give you pause with regard to recommending it to someone of another, younger, generation.

But when someone asks about recommendations for their kids, you want to be helpful! Cool, here’s my suggestion: read more new stuff. And when you read it, think about from whom (and at what age) you would recommend that work. You don’t even have to buy it, just head off to the library and look through the new releases (or suggest an upcoming release for the library to acquire. Librarians like when you do that. So do authors). Then, when the question comes up, you’ll be prepared with something from this century.

If you can’t or won’t do that, then here’s another useful tip: Tell the person asking to ask a librarian for recommendations. That’s literally what librarians do! They’re really good at connecting people (and particularly kids) with books. They would be happy to do it here as well. They know what’s new, and what’s good, and what’s in the library. That kid will go home with something great (you can do this in bookstores, too, if you want to be purchasing that day).

And if you really really really really really want to recommend a decades-old book? Then reread it, have an idea of how that text and story sits right now, and when you recommend it, acknowledge and disclose it’s from another era, with all the things that come from being of that era — and then be able to articulate why you think it still has value to a young person today, beyond “well, I liked it when I was that age,” or “it’s a classic.”

Then go read some more new stuff! You deserve it.

— JS

https://whatever.scalzi.com/2025/08/11/poking-the-discourse-bear-re-classic-science-fiction/

https://whatever.scalzi.com/?p=56787