The experiment begins. This is Derogatory Reference 77, written, edited, and published by Arthur D. Hlavaty, 206 Valentine St., Yonkers, NY 10704-1814. 914-965 4861 hlavaty@panix.com. Copyright 1993 by Arthur D. Hlavaty. 26 November Monday I dumped the entire mailing of DR 76 in a local mailbox, sending the US copies by presumably fast first class mail, and the overseas copies by presumably slow printed matter seamail. Today I received my first response--from Dave Langford in England. [flashback] We left for Philcon without bringing along a topic sentence. The trip down seemed uneventful until we got to the hotel and were informed that steam was pouring out of our engine. We'd bought gas on the way, and the helpful attendant checked our radiator, not being quite helpful enough to put the cap back on when he was finished. (He left it on the engine block.) While Bernadette & Kevin waited behind one other person on the hotel registration line, I went across the building and down the stairs to the green room to pick up our con registration. When I had done that and returned, they were still on line, but we eventually got a room. Friday evening was a party given by Circlet Press, the leading publisher of sf erotica, to commemorate the appearance of their latest book, *Worlds of Women*, which contains Bernadette's novella, "None of the Above." While I am obviously not an unbiased observer, I would strongly recommend the book, and particularly Bernadette's story, which appeals to both the libido and the sense of wonder. The book is available at sf specialty stores, and for $7.20 (including postage and handling) from Circlet Press, Inc., PO Box 15143, Boston, MA 02215. The book is described as "Lesbian SF," but that is only one of several themes in Bernadette's story. I was hoping someone would ask me what I was doing at the party, so I could say, "Oh, I'm one of the two male lovers of one of the writers in the Lesbian anthology." The next morning, Bernadette appeared on a panel on Overlooked SF Writers. Usual suspects like Howard Waldrop and R. A. Lafferty were rounded up. In the course of the panel, she mentioned that, strictly speaking, no one had said that it was to be about *unjustly* overlooked writers. There was, however, no rush to discuss James Grazier and Arthur N. Scarm. Actually, there was one writer who might or might not be in that category: David Bunch. As the publisher of a new collection of Bunch's stories mentioned, Bunch does not set out to make his work easy or pleasant for the reader. My own somewhat limited experience with his writing indicates that he does not inadvertently do so, and thus I see no reason to attempt to read him. That may be unfair. One could apply the same argument to Gene Wolfe's fiction. But Wolfe is writing stories about complex matters of perception and knowledge, stories that cannot be told in a simple and reader-friendly manner. Rightly or wrongly, I suspect Bunch of reader-surliness for its own sake. Lafferty is a different matter. I find his stuff fascinating, but often baffling. Some love it; some hate it, and it is hard to guess who will be in which category. (In this, as Bernadette points out, he resembles one of her favorite writers, Charles Williams.) One can say of his fiction what W. C. Fields said about sex: "There may be some things that are better, and there may be some things that are worse, but there is nothing that is exactly the same." Immediately after that, I appeared on a panel on SF in the Library. This panel had an Immoderator, who attempted not only to guide it, but also to micromanage it, to the point of calling on people mostly for specific examples of general points he was trying to make. Panelists (and some audience members) in turn attempted to bring in our own agendas. I have no idea whether this was better than the usual amorphous discussions. The main point I made was a suggestion that libraries in this field as elsewhere maintain their roles as preservers of major literature in a world that is often hostile to it. In particular, I had received the grim news that all of Alfred Bester's work is out of print. This is disgraceful; his novels *The Demolished Man* and *The Stars My Destination* and his short- story collection *Starburst* should be universally available. I realized that I was acting stereotypic, defending Traditional Literary Values by recommending the work of a dead white male, so I quickly put in a plug for someone who was None of the Above (-:say, that'd be a good story title:-), Octavia E. Butler, specifically *Mind of My Mind* and *Wild Seed*. We hung out with friends (Nancy Lebovitz, Janice Eisen & Ken Meltsner, Eric Raymond & Cathy Olanich, Dan Lieberman, others); pissed away money in the dealers' room; and otherwise enjoyed the rest of the day. Sunday, Bernadette appeared on a panel on SF & Literary Merit. The group intelligently discussed the ways in which sf could appeal to different audiences, rather than having the familiar literary vs story values war. This disappointed some of the audience, and perhaps the designers of the panel as well, but I enjoyed it. The next panel we attended was "I'd Like to Write It, but They Won't Let Me," with Jack Chalker, Greg Costikyan, and John Norman. I was not terribly surprised to hear Chalker and Costikyan say that they are allowed to write pretty much what they want to. I was likewise not terribly surprised that Norman was not wearing tight black leather or carrying a whip, and that he sounded fairly reasonable, especially if one did not listen too closely. He did not say much if anything about the dominance submission ideas that drive his fiction. He did indicate a belief in strong sexual dimorphism: Women are wonderful, strange creatures, but they are Not Like Us. He did complain that he's had trouble finding a publisher. (His current one, Questar, is folding, and it's almost certainly not his fault.) I do think that the shit he writes appeals to enough people that a publisher could make money on it, and so, as a First Amendment Nut who wants as much voluntary exchange of information as possible, I wish someone would. There was a speech by Ian Watson, which was brilliant and funny, as I expected. Unfortunately, he banned recording equipment, and, after the speech, ordered us to forget it. I have some vague idea that it was about the bizarre behavior of a famous and brilliant director, but that's all I am allowed to say. Oh, well, maybe it's shining in my memory, and I'll remember it later, like in 2001. Our trip home began as an adventure, with an empty radiator, but we poured seltzer into it to get the car to a gas station, added coolant we bought there, and got home safely (getting a coolant flush the next day). 28 November Here in the United States, a lot of attention is being given to a case where a woman cut off her husband's penis, allegedly because he had raped her. Meanwhile, in other parts of the world, young girls are routinely subjected to clitoridectomy. Whether this is as bad as what the unfortunate husband suffered may be a question that only Tiresias could answer, but it appears to be at least somewhat similar. As a White Male Cultural Imperialist, I would like to interfere with those differently advanced Third World societies and make them stop doing it. 1 December E-mail is coming in from people I haven't heard from in a while, like Sharon Kahn. She mentions the "Christians are dumb" comment I heard, and recalls an apa discussion in which someone said, "Americans aren't prejudiced against Catholics. They are actually prejudiced against anyone who takes religion seriously." Not exactly. Winston Churchill once said that half the population of England believe buggery is impossible and the other half engage in it. Perhaps the same is true about America and taking religion seriously, except that the percentages are different. Arthur D. Hlavaty hlavaty@panix.com "The Mason's face is ajar."--Firesign Theater