Words of the Month - Non-Binary They

         Today’s episode of Words of the Month is both a post about grammar and a confession.  I have a number of friends who use they pronouns, and sometimes I get it wrong.  These are people I respect, admire, and have great affection for, and yet I still sometimes get it wrong, and I’ve been thinking a lot (and beating myself up a bit) about why I have this difficulty.

        Point 1.  I wrote a post about they as a gender-neutral pronoun for indefinite use, which you can read here.  I’ve never had any difficulty with that, but that was 13 years ago and since then they has come into more common and mainstream use as a specific pronoun for specific individuals.  That’s what I’m talking about today.

        Point 2.  I’m in my mid-50s, and while that may not be ancient, it’s certainly old enough to have a pretty solidly set internal grammar.  And when it comes to they pronouns, my internal grammar has a way of acting like autocorrect.  You know how autocorrect goes: you type “I hope to be by in ten minutes”, hit send, and see, to your annoyance, that your text has popped up on the screen not the way you could swear you typed it, but instead as “I hope you die in tenements,” because autocorrect oh-so-helpfully figured that obviously that must be what you really meant.  I feel the same way sometimes when I know perfectly well that someone uses they pronouns, and yet I hear the pronoun she come out of my mouth.

        Point 3.  Just because I’m old and set doesn’t mean I can’t learn.  In fact, when I’m talking about someone who isn’t there at all, I actually do fine.  Sometimes when I read or hear a sentence with they pronouns, it leads me astray and I have to do a quick recalculation.  For example, on the back cover of a book I might read “Writing this book was their lifelong dream” and for a moment I wonder who the second author is.  But I’ve reached the point where once I get into the rhythm of it, my grammar accepts they as a singular pronoun for a specific individual and I carry on without difficulty.  But there is one situation in which I just keep getting it wrong…

        Point 4.  The thing I keep messing up is when I’m in a conversation with multiple people so that I’m mostly using second-person pronouns.  Then within that conversation, when I need to refer to one of those people in third person, that’s when my autocorrect insists on picking he or she even if I know they use they.

        Point 5.  I assume that all I need is sufficient practice to get this through my not-quite-ancient head and teach my internal grammar the new rules.  But although I know lots of people with they pronouns, there is no one in my immediate circle of family or friends whom I speak with on a daily basis, so I just don’t have that daily reinforcement and practice to speed the process along.  My children, of course, are fully fluent in this new English, but I was a speaker of English for nearly 50 years before this entered my grammar, and it’s still not coming as naturally as I’d like.

        Any living language is constantly changing, and since I’m a pedant there are plenty of changes that I resist kicking and screaming.  This isn’t one of them.  Non-binary they serves a purpose and fills a need, so there’s no reason to object to it - but my autocorrect objects anyway.  I hate that I do this, as it’s never my intention to make anyone feel that I don’t acknowledge or respect who they are.  I know that it can be hurtful to them, as if I don’t care or don’t accept their identity.  To them it seems like it should be easy, but I do hope they can be patient with my unhelpful autocorrect, and know that my spirit is willing, even if my internal grammar is weak.  And in the meantime, I truly do apologize, and I really am trying to work harder get it right!

[Picture: Perspectival Fantasy Landscape with an Obelisk, wood block print from Geometria et Perspectiva by Lorenz Stör (block cut by Hans Rogel), 1567 (Image from The British Museum.)]

Winter Wonderland

         It’s been cold enough that last week’s snow is still covering the ground, and that means that it’s time to freshen up the snowscape with a little fantasy!  Today I’ve got three pieces that add just a touch of something surreal or magical to the wintry scene.  The first is a new one of my own.  Did you know that yetis have backwards-facing feet, so that their footprints appear to be going in the opposite direction from where the yeti actually went?  This is a myth that has been told about a number of fantasy creatures, especially ape-men types.  I wanted to capture the mischievous glee this yeti feels as he leads any would-be trackers astray.

        Next up is a wonderfully surreal piece by Frank Moore.  Moore is known for erotic performance art, but this uncharacteristic piece is definitely more my jam!  It takes the cliché “a blanket of snow” and makes it fresh and crisp, turning the white-sheeted bed into a plain inhabited by tiny bison.  The pillows become mountains, and fresh flakes are falling, playing still further with the scale.

        One more snowy scene with marvelous beasts, this one by Wharton Esherick is technically historical rather than magical, since it depicts megafauna of the Ice Age.  Still, its quirky, humorous tone makes it seem like more than a mere textbook illustration.  It’s one of Esherick’s earliest prints, and is much simpler and rougher than his later style.  I think it’s got a lot of charm.

        As I look at the snow out my window, the scene is utterly lacking in mammoths, bison, and yetis.  Perhaps that’s for the best, but I’m still glad I can enjoy them in block prints.

[Pictures: Yeti Tracks, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2024 (Image from NydamPrints.com);

Prairie, color woodcut by Frank Moore, 1999 (Image from Cleveland Museum of Art);

Change, Change, Change, woodcut by Wharton Esherick, 1922 (Image from Wharton Esherick Museum).]

Under Snow

         Every time we have a beautiful snowfall of course I think of block prints, and there seems to be an inexhaustible supply of block prints that celebrate snow.  Today I had to start with “Dublin Under Snow” by Robert Gibbings (Ireland, 1889-1958) because I had a recent encounter with this piece.  At Christmas my daughter got nice little hardcover copies of two books by Claire Keegan, and I was delighted to recognize a familiar

friend of mine on the cover of each: block prints.  If you’ve read Small Things Like These, you might recognize this one.  (The other cover, So Late in the Day, featured a piece I shared here, back in 2015.)  This evocation of rooftops in the snow manages to be simultaneously starkly geometric and lushly poetic, and I absolutely love it!

        I thought I’d continue the theme of snow scenes involving towns rather than pure nature, and here’s a cinematic one by Gwenda Morgan (UK, 1908-1991).  Instead of just one scene it includes roughly seven vignettes, all blending into each other.  Notice how the sky above the bay becomes the snowy hillside below the lake.  I like the beams of light at the top, and all the little details, including the snowman at the lower left.

        Hiratsuka Un’ichi (Japan, 1895-1997) gives us a view after the storm, with everything still and impassive under its weight of snow and sky.  I always love when the wood grain shows in block prints, and I also like the low perspective, as if we’re standing among the stubbly grasses, looking across the frozen lake.  The colors, yellowish brown and purplish grey, are almost complementary, and yet read as if they blend softly.

        And finally, here’s someone staying safely out of the cold, in an engraving by E. Hubert Deines (USA, 1894-1967).  This is a rural scene rather than the suburban view from my own window, so my road is plowed and nor are our drifts so high.  Nevertheless, it’s always satisfying to look out at snow when you don’t have to go anywhere.

        If you’re living anywhere in a current cold snap, stay warm.  This is a time to breathe, relax, and gather strength for the digging out.

[Pictures: Dublin Under Snow, woodcut by Robert Gibbings, ca. 1921 (Image from V&A);

Midwinter, wood engraving by Gwenda Morgan, 1962 (Image from Kevis House);

Shinobazu Pond in Snow, color woodblock print by Hiratsuka Un’ichi, ca. 1925-35 (Image from Art Institute Chicago);

Maria Gazing Out of Window at the World Outside, wood engraving by E. Hubert Deines, 1936 (Image from Marianna Kistler Beach Museum of Art).]

Arisia Panel Signpost

        Everything’s packed and I’m about to head to the annual Arisia sci fi/fantasy convention, so today I’m putting up a signpost to content that relates to the panels I’ll be participating on this weekend.  Whether you’re attending Arisia or not, if you’re interested in any of these topics, here’s where you can find some relevant posts I’ve made in the past.

        Faiths of Fantasy and the Future - How can writers incorporate contemporary or invented belief systems into fantasy or future worlds, without replicating cliches about clergy, faith, and spiritual practice?  • My top thought is that when you’re making up religious systems in a fictional universe you actually get to (indeed, have to) make up two levels: what the people in this world believe, and what is actually true in this universe.

Apparently I haven’t yet posted on writing religions in fiction, even though it’s something I’m deeply interested in and have done a lot of in my own work.  (I guess I need to get on that!)  The resource I can share today, though, is the “religion” slide from a workshop on world-building that I presented for Broad Universe in 2020.  Also, beware these two pet peeve stereotypes that I personally am eye-rollingly bored of seeing:

1. the only possible ways to conceive of “God” are as a big old man with a beard up in the sky, or as a dark, evil (probably tentacled) Old One in the depths

2. religion is always opposed to science, and vice versa

        Creating Relatable Non-Humans - How do writers find the sweet spot when creating non-human sentient species: similar enough to be relatable, but not alike enough to be humans in bug suits?  • My top thought is to start with biology and consider what effect that could have on individual personalities and collective cultures.

Symbiote City - This post is about my making of a block print depicting Venusian medusae, but it does discuss the challenge of balancing too alien versus not alien enough when depicting imaginary worlds.

People of All Possible Forms - This post is about Camille Flammarion's work on the infinite variety of alien beings.

Also, above is the slide on sentient non-human people.

        Invented Languages - Snippets of invented languages add depth and interest to speculative fiction, but when is it too much of a good thing? Get tips about language creation with results that even an expert would believe.  • My top thought in the case of fantasy set in a secondary world or any place in which 21st century English is not in use, is to remember that your entire story is in a sense “in translation” from another language.  And then consider where translators tend to retain words from the source language.  Those will be places you can use your made-up language.

Character Names in Fantasy - The title says it, but remember that proper nouns are one of the first and most obvious places to use your invented language.

Indigenous Roots - This is about real English borrowed from real Indigenous languages, but the post is organized by categories of words that get borrowed when there’s contact between new places and peoples.

Words of the Month - If you’re interested in linguistics more generally, and especially in etymology, you can browse through all my monthly posts on tidbits of language.

        Readings - I’ll be reading a short snippet with the Broad Universe Rapid Fire Reading on Saturday, and a longer excerpt in an author reading on Monday morning.  For both I’ll be featuring Bittersweetness & Light to launch it upon its release.  Anyone interested in finding out more about this book and the short stories, poems, and art therein could, of course, purchase a copy of their very own.  There are also lots of posts featuring information about the book and its contents...

A Desperate Little Exhortation About (Bitter)Sweetness and Light - Why “happy” books are not necessarily “fluffy” and unserious.

An Overview of the Book

BOOK RELEASE! - Includes a few illustrations, along with their background and relationship to the stories in the book.

“Love Potion” and “A Life for a Life” - You can hear me read these two complete stories aloud on the December 11, 2024 episode of “Story Hour.”

“Knitting” - read it as originally published in New Myths, Winter 2024

“The Conduits” - read it (and a link to hear me read it aloud) as originally published in Friends Journal, November 2022

“Some Assembly Required” - read it as originally published in Fantasy Magazine, May 2023

        Art Show - As always, I’ve got a whole bay in the art show which I will cram full to the gills with relief block prints.  Here are posts that tell about my process for a few of them.

Autumn Fairy (Oaky Nutkin)

Beware the Jubjub Bird!

Bunyip’s Land

City I and City II

El Tenedor, Reading Glasses, Little Cyclops, and Kunchorn Waree

Fiery Salamander

Freedom

The Grand Marhoot

Keeping Off the Grass

Love Potion

Night Flight and Hatching Dreams

Parade

Portrait of the Artist

Seeds of Love

Singin’ in the Rain

Spring Fairy (Winged Peeper)

Steam-Powered Insectivore

Summer Fairy (Monarch Finch)

Sunbunny Loves You

Yale and First Flight

[Pictures: 3 slides from my presentation “World Creation for Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers,” 2020;

Riddle in the Sand, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2023 (Image from NydamPrints.com);

Poster for Bittersweetness & Light, 2025.]

Lowell's Castle

         Today’s fantasy poem is by James Russell Lowell (USA, 1819-1891) and is really more about fantasy than being true fantasy itself.  This was published in 1869, I think.

Aladdin

When I was a beggarly boy
  And lived in a cellar damp,
I had not a friend nor a toy,
  But I had Aladdin's lamp;
When I could not sleep for the cold,
  I had fire enough in my brain,
And builded, with roofs of gold,
  My beautiful castles in Spain!

Since then I have toiled day and night,
  I have money and power good store,
But I'd give all my lamps of silver bright
  For the one that is mine no more;
Take, Fortune, whatever you choose,
  You gave, and may snatch again;
I have nothing 'twould pain me to lose,
  For I own no more castles in Spain!

        This is not an autobiographical poem, as Lowell was very far from being a beggarly boy, and grew up not in a cellar damp, but in a magnificent estate in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  On the other hand, perhaps it told more about his future than his past, as in 1877 Lowell was appointed to be Ambassador to Spain.  (However, with the early death of 3 of his 4 children he did certainly know plenty about lost dreams.)

        The sentiment this poem illustrates is, on the one hand, something I always agree with: the value of imagination and the tragedy of its loss among so many adults.  On the other hand, this is a somewhat tritely overblown statement of the sentiment.  What led me to choose this poem today, though, is that I’ve been reading Hope For Cynics: The Surprising Science of Human Goodness by Jamil Zaki, and I’m tying this poem in with the idea of how so many of us are growing more cynical.  Zaki’s point is not only that we’re living in an epidemic of cynicism (which is just as damaging to health as many physical issues!), but also that we can choose to be skeptical of the forces that encourage cynicism.  We can, in short, reclaim that Aladdin’s lamp that tells us bright things are possible!

        The stories and poems in my new book Bittersweetness & Light are also part of my attempt to spread that message and invite readers back to the lamp.  That castle in Spain is still standing, and there’s plenty of room, so come on in!

[Picture: Castle on a Cloud, linocut by Brian Reedy (Image from the artist’s web site BrianReedy.bigcartel.com).]

BOOK RELEASE!

        Bittersweetness & Light has officially been released and is now available far and wide!  This collection of magical speculative fiction short stories, poems, and art is printed in a larger format than your average paperback, in full color, with decorations throughout and notes at the end.  From love potions to alien spores and from dream fish to a puzzled ghost, find magic that can be knitted, glimpsed from the kitchen window, or assembled from a flat-pack kit.  In twelve fantastical short stories, ten evocative poems, and dozens of whimsical relief block prints, this magical collection invites you to look for goodness, find joy, and share reasons for hope.

        To celebrate, today I’m sharing a few of the block prints included in the book.  I’ve chosen representatives of three different categories.  Up first is “After Rain,” which is included in the book as an illustration with the short story “The Rainlings.”  I made this rubber block print in 2022, before I wrote the short story.  The story was not based on the illustration, but it did spring from some of the same inspirations that had given rise to the block print.  Therefore, when I needed an illustration for the story, it was natural to go back to this piece - even though in the story the Rainlings are a little bigger and fit only one house per raindrop.

        Today’s second piece, on the other hand, was made explicitly to illustrate a poem included in the book, “Fire on the Wind.”  (The poem in this case is much older, but I never thought about illustrating it until putting together the book.)  Although this is a small piece, it’s fairly complicated.  The background is a reduction print with three layers (more on reduction prints here).  The dragon itself is a separate tiny block printed onto the background.  I experimented with two kinds of ink for this one: regular printing ink and also archival stamp pad ink.  The latter ended up being a bit of a problem and in several impressions the ink spread and became mushy-looking.  Because a reduction print destroys the block during the process, I can’t go back and print new impressions to replace the ones I’ve thrown out, so there are now simply a few holes in the edition.

        Finally I include today an example of a third kind of image I made for the book.  These were made to include in the book as illustrations for a poem, but unlike the other two shown today, they aren’t exactly real block prints.  Rather, they’re digital collages of elements cut from other block prints I've done.  Indeed, you should be able to recognize the background of the moon!  A few of the stories and poems needed illustrations that I didn’t think warranted a whole edition of actual block prints that probably wouldn’t have much of a market to sell on their own, and that’s when I use the digital method instead.

        So that’s a little behind-the-scenes of some of the art included in this book.  If you’re curious to read the whole thing, please check it out on amazon, Barnes & Noble, or directly from me.  Consider putting in a request with your local library and they might stock a copy.  And if you do read it and enjoy this book, please consider posting a review and telling any friends or family who might also enjoy it.  More than ever this world needs us to build the connections of sharing with each other the things that bring us joy, and I’d love to get this book launched in that spirit.

[Pictures: After Rain, rubber block print by AEGNydam, 2022 (originals sold out);

Fire on the Wind, rubber block reduction print by AEGNydam, 2024 (Image from Nydam Prints);

Tiny Galaxy, Day and Night, digital collage of elements scanned from rubber block prints by AEGNydam, 2024 (Images from Bittersweetness & Light).]

The Flight Into Egypt

         As our communities brace for threatened mass deportations of immigrants carried out by people who claim to speak for Christianity, it seems a good time to continue my series of block prints covering the Christmas story, and move to the next chapter: the Flight into Egypt.

        Not long after the visit from the Three Wise Men (see block prints in my previous post), Joseph was warned in a dream that Herod wanted to kill the baby Jesus, and that he should take his family into another country where they would be safe from persecution.  They went to Egypt, where they lived for about four years as immigrant refugees, until it was safe from them to return to their homeland.  Given that Jesus preached so much about welcoming the stranger, I can’t help thinking that his own family’s experience as refugees informed his understanding of how to

love “neighbors” in a much more inclusive sense.

        The image of the Flight into Egypt has been a popular one to illustrate.  I’ll start once again with Albrecht Dürer, whose version is beautifully detailed with a little bridge, date palms, grapevines, an ox along for the journey, and a cloud of putti in the upper right.  Mary is smiling, though Joseph seems to be a little bowed down by his concerns.

        Albrecht Altdorfer, working at around the same time, has a less technically virtuosic version, but I still like it.  This time Joseph’s face is turned away and Jesus looks a bit like a rag doll, but Mary is again smiling gently, no doubt secure in the love that surrounds her.  My favorite parts of this one are the skyline in the distance and the arabesque clouds above.

        Switching gears to a piece from the 1940s, this linocut is by Peter Agostini, which includes only Mary, Jesus, and the donkey.  I don’t much like this one!  Mary looks like the Emperor’s Royal Guard from Star Wars (good thing she’s at least painted in blue instead of red), and she’s all out of proportion for the poor muppet-faced donkey.  Still, it’s variety, right?

        Moving on, here’s a twentieth century one I like much better, by C. Pál Molnár.  This has lots of bold, geometric texture to give bold lighting and dark shadows.  Mary isn’t smiling here, but she is looking down at the baby held to her heart.  Joseph just looks tired.  Like Altdorfer, we’ve got a town in the background, and like Dürer we’ve got angels in the sky.  These angels, however, are huge and sturdy as a roof!

        I kept my focus pretty narrow in selecting these versions, and there are two popular types of “Flight into Egypt” I did not represent.  As artists were beginning to explore landscape as a subject in its own right, they often used the Holy Family’s journey as an excuse to paint large, beautiful landscapes.  Today, however, I chose block prints that focus more on the family rather than the landscape through which they travel.  I’ve also chosen pieces that show them on the road, rather than resting idyllically beneath a palm, which was another popular trope.  “The Rest on the Flight into Egypt” always makes a point of how miraculously they were cared for, but I think we should remember that leaving your home is never easy, and fleeing into the unknown because you're desperate to protect your family is even harder.  I hope we can all remember that whatever we do for the least of these brothers and sisters, we do to that family who had to flee their homeland and seek refuge in a foreign country two thousand years ago.

[Pictures: The Flight into Egypt, woodcut by Albrecht Dürer, ca. 1503-5 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art);

The Flight into Egypt, woodcut by Albrecht Altdorfer, ca. 1515 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art);

Flight into Egypt, linocut with watercolor by Peter Agostini, 1940s (Image from The Philadelphia Museum of Art);

Flight into Egypt, wood engraving by C. Pál Molnár, 1933 (Image from The Cleveland Museum of Art).]