Controversial Cartoons


This cartoon, printed in the New York Post by cartoonist Sean Delonas has stirred up a huge controversy, as most of you are already aware. According to many, it is a cartoon that is not just a denouncement of Obama’s stimulus plan, but it is also filled with racial undertones.

In the cartoon, two police officers stand over the bullet-riddled body of a chimpanzee, with one officer stating that we’ll need someone else to pen the next stimulus bill. The cartoon ostensibly refers to the recent story about an out-of-control chimpanzee that was killed by police after it mauled a woman and ties this event into the stimulus package. The meaning is clear – only a crazed chimpanzee would pen this stimulus bill.

It’s not so simple, though. Barack Obama is our first African-American President. Since the stimulus package is his first major Presidential economic initiative it can be argued that the cartoon is calling Obama a chimp – a term that has been used in a derogatory fashion against black people. Many civil rights advocates and just as many publicity hounds have risen up against this cartoon, the cartoonist, and the New York Post as a result.

When I first saw the cartoon I did not immediately see the racial undertones, but having had them pointed out to me I can see them now. They are there – and it’s sad. I am not calling for the termination of the cartoonist as the NAACP is, though. But I am confused a bit.

I remember a few years ago I stumbled upon an article where the NAACP was calling for a boycott of hard drive manufacturers because of terminology used to describe two IDE hard drives connected to the same controller. One is the “master” and one is the “slave.” This master/slave terminology was labeled racist and insulting to African-Americans.

At the time, I had energetic debates with many people about how powerful cultural images are. And I concluded that they are powerful because people make them so. Seems self-evident, right? But it took a lot of thought for me to completely realize how true this is.

Yes – America unfortunately was a slave nation for part of history. We had white masters and we had black slaves. Less known is that the north had pseudo-slavery as well; it was called indentured servitude and it was colorblind. Of course, the option of freedom was there, even if it could rarely be realized.

So – as a result of our sordid national past we have a stigma around the terms “master” and “slave.” Americans, however, don’t own those terms. They have been around for much, much longer than we have been a nation. So to use the term in conjunction with hardware may or may not be offensive – but I could not find a better way to refer to the relationship.

Similarly – chimps and metaphorically referring to ineptitude through chimp comparisons has been around much, much longer than America.

So at what point do stop being so sensitive? Or do we continue to be sensitive and walk on eggshells around any term that vaguely refers to America’s less than glowing past? I am confused.

Let me tell you a story. There was a young man named Sparks who was about 18-years-old. He worked as a manager of a video store in Orlando, Florida. One day, a woman returned a movie to the store, claiming it was damaged and she could not watch it. She was, coincidentally, a black woman.

Sparks gladly replaced the movie for her – she took a different movie, though. Not a new copy of the one that was “broken.” She returned two hours later with the same story. Suspicious, Sparks looked at the tape; it wasn’t even rewound and was at the end. Popping it into a VCR, he saw that it was playing just fine.

Still – the customer is always right, right? So he, again, allowed the customer to get another movie and sent her on her way. You know what happened next?

You guessed it. Two hours later she returned with the same story. The third movie was watched to the end, and it played just fine in the store VCR. Sparks refused to give her another movie.

The lady, with her three-year-old child in tow, got very irate and started raising her voice. Sparks tried to placate her, asked her to calm down and told her that she must have a broken VCR because the tapes worked fine. He never accused her of trying to scam the store.

The lady, once she got angry, was not about to cool down. She got louder and louder, despite Sparks’ best attempts to defuse the situation. Then she started dropping F-Bombs right in the store – which was filled with Saturday families shopping.

So Sparks got a little angry himself and told the lady, “Hey – you need to calm down. This language is not appropriate in the store and if you don’t calm down I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

The lady threatened Sparks – saying she should climb over the counter and beat the shit out of him. To which Sparks responded:

“Thanks for showing me your true colors lady.”

What Sparks meant was that her true self had emerged. She was a bully. An angry customer who used threats of force to get her way.

The lady, being black, took it racially – although Sparks had used the term “showing your true colors” correctly. She reached behind the counter, picked up a metal “inbox” and smacked Sparks in the face with it. His face bleeding from a 2-inch gash in his forehead, Sparks watched in disbelief as the lady scooped up her kid and ran out of the store.

That, my friends, is the best way to describe this situation as I see it. If you’re looking for insult, no matter what someone says, you will find it. When you wear a chip that large on your shoulder someone will eventually knock it off – probably accidentally.

When is sensitivity to racial issues TOO sensitive? At what point can we use appropriate wording and imagery without fear of reprisal? When can a white man say to a black woman “show me your true colors?” and when can a cartoonist pen a cartoon comparing chimps to the authors of the stimulus bill without having to wade through a bog of racial outrage?

Pickle Surprise!

A couple of years ago I stumbled on this video and it has stuck with me ever since. It’s so surreal. I shared it with the office and now, every once in a while, someone walks by and waggles their fingers at me while saying “PICKLE SURPRISE.” It’s very disturbing and yet addictive at the same time.

Anyway – as you all know, my taste buds were killed during my radiation and chemotherapy. The doctors said they should come back eventually – and they were right. Every day I can taste a little bit more.

Still, nothing tastes the way it should yet. Imagine tasting with a layer of cellophane between your tongue and the food you eat. You get just the barest hint of taste – enough to entice you and make you realize how much you miss your taste – but never enough to satisfy.

It kind of reminds me of tales of vampires – how their thirst can never be quenched no matter how much they drink. It’s the same for me – my taste can never be satisfied no matter how much I put into my mouth.

Until yesterday.

On a lark, I pulled out the jar of gherkin dills I had Carey buy as few weeks ago. Back then, I had hoped that the hugely sour taste of the pickles could get through to my taste buds. No luck – I couldn’t taste them at all – so I reluctantly and with great disappointment put them in the back of the refrigerator so I wouldn’t be mocked by the jar every time I went for some cold water.

So yesterday I decided to try again. Around 9:30pm I cracked the jar open and, with great trepidation, took a tentative bite of a pickle.

My mouth exploded in orgasmic flavor. I could taste the pickle! Completely – they way it was meant to be tasted! It was so good – so sour – so . . . pickley.

Imagine going months with no taste, people. Imagine that NOTHING tastes right or has a taste at all. It’s like being trapped on a desert island with no food or water. When you’re rescued – even the smallest and most insignificant food or drink is better than nectar and ambrosia.

This pickle was the food of the gods as far as I was concerned. I, literally, got tears in my eyes. It’s so emotionally impacting to lose your sense of taste. To lose ANY sense is a huge deal – after all, we only have five of them. Imagine the emotions a blind person feels when partial sight is returned. Or a deaf person the first time they hear something through their cochlear implant.

I’m not saying my emotional response revolving around being able to taste something again was quite as dramatic as returning sight to the blind or hearing to the deaf – but you see what I am driving at. You now understand why, when that wonderful pickle hit my taste buds that I got tears in my eyes. Yes – I shed a tear.

My taste still isn’t back completely. This is just the first step. Strong sour and strongly bitter tastes are the first to come back. I have sour now. I have a lot of taste recovery to go through still – but this is very positive. Many people never get taste back.

I truly had a “Pickle Surprise” last night, and I couldn’t be happier.

Loving Couples Share Everything

Even cancer, apparently . . . .

About six months ago I noticed a mole on Carey’s back that was flaky and red. It would heal, then get flaky again – and it changed colors occasionally. As I was in the beginning of my cancer treatment, I was immediately concerned. (when you have cancer you see it everywhere)

Carey was not overly-concerned and she was so busy caring for me that she neglected to get it looked at. I pushed, three or four times, but there was no real sense of urgency about it. We agreed she needed to get it looked at it, but my needs were just . . . more immediate . . . and she let it go.

Finally, two weeks ago, she decided I was healing well enough for her to look after herself again. She went to a dermatologist to have the mole looked at. They, too, were concerned about it and took a biopsy.

Four days later, the verdict was in. Carey has a patch of skin cancer on her back. Basal cell carcinoma. Basal cell carcinoma (BSC) is the most common non-melanoma skin cancer. It begins in the lowest layer of the epidermis, called the basal cell layer. It usually develops on sun-exposed areas, especially the head and neck. Basal cell cancer is slow-growing and is not likely to spread to distant parts of the body.

Yes – you guessed it – Carey, being fair skinned, had a lot of sunburns on her back when she was younger. That’s all it takes, people. Public Service note: use sunscreen, especially in Florida!

The good news is that BSC is the best kind of cancer you can get if you do get cancer. It is very slow-growing, easily treatable by simply cutting it off the skin, and very rarely spreads. The biggest risk of BSC is that once you have one, you have a higher chance of getting more in the future. So – sunscreen at all times and quarterly checks of the skin to make sure no new tumors pop up. That’s it.

This morning, Carey had an appointment to get the BSC cut out of her back completely. She was nervous – after all, they were going to take a scalpel to her back. They let me stay and watch the entire procedure – it was quite a sight.

First, the nurse numbed her back with a bunch of micro-shots of anesthesia. Then, the doctor came in and very surgically removed a large area around the tumor and under it – making sure to go wide enough and deep enough to get the entire thing. Then, they used a laser to cauterize the wound, then applied 4 stitches.

That’s it. Quick and easy. Carey was a trooper – although the smell of her flesh cauterizing did make her nauseous. She is asleep right now – the anxiety and stress leading up to this wiped her out. Her back itches like mad, but the pain hasn’t set in yet. She will be sore and uncomfortable, but not too much so. By tomorrow she should be able to pretty much resume normal activity.

I know loving couples share everything – but I never intended that we share THIS! I hope this is the last time Carey has to deal with this. I wish I could shoulder (pun intended) this burden for her – but once again she showed me how strong she is.

Not a day goes by where she doesn’t amaze me.

Cancer Memories

I’m about 2 weeks from starting work again. That means my recovery is going very well. I don’t know if we got all the cancer yet, although I am very optimistic. I have a feeling of accomplishment – I have been through hell and back. Much of it has been put into my blog posts – the posts you have all read. Still, there are a lot of memories over the past few months that haven’t made it into my blog. They are mostly “still shot” memories of a moment in time. I figured I would take a few of the most powerful ones and list them as bullet points here.

  • Waking up post head and neck surgery to find myself stripped to the waist with no blanket on me. Upon seeing my puzzled look, the nurse told me that when I was coming out of anesthesia I insisted I was hot and practically made them strip me. I have no memory of this.
  • Having to sleep for 3 weeks following surgery in a recliner because the blood and mucus drainage was so bad, and the pain in my neck was so acute that I couldn’t lie flat. I would choke on my bloody mucus and didn’t have the strength to sit up again once I was horizontal.
  • Having throat pain so bad that even breathing made me want to cry.
  • Falling asleep in the hospital room and waking to a soft and gentle touch on my arm. Slowly opening my eyes and pretending not to notice Carey wipe the tears from her eyes.
  • Lying in bed before surgery, when the cancer was still big in my neck, and listening to Carey sleep as I spiraled around the fact that I had cancer – all night long.
  • The look on my youngest son’s face as he saw me for the first time after surgery. I watched some of his innocence get stripped from him – his Dad was not invulnerable. It took everything I had to not cry at the sight.
  • Thinking that I was strong enough to endure surgery, chemo, and radiation without missing more than a minimal amount of work. Such arrogance. Such ignorance.
  • Stepping on the scale and watching 5 more pound drop from the tally. 200 – 195 – 188 – 182 – 175 – 170 – 165 – 160 – 155 – 158. . . (which is where I am now). Feeling initially proud – I needed to lose the weight – then more and more concerned as I realized that I was not able to gain weight and that I had no reserves left to be able to handle another bout of chemo or radiation if it was necessary.
  • Looking at myself in the mirror for the first time after surgery and seeing the angry red scar on my neck and seeing the deformation in my neck from the muscles removed. Feeling shock at not recognizing who was staring back at me but acting like I was OK with it so I would not alarm Carey and the children.
  • Slowly losing the ability to taste and pretending like I was OK with it. Again, I didn’t want to alarm anyone with how this affected me emotionally – but it bothered me greatly.
  • Losing my saliva and not being able to kiss. My heart broke when I realized this. I can kiss again now, but for some time I was unable to do more than simple pecks on the lips.
  • Feeling disgust at my weakness. Shame. We moved from a small 3/1 to a 4/2 in the middle of chemo and radiation and I was completely unable to help. At all. I had to sit and watch everyone else pack, clean, move, and unpack my belongings. It was nearly unbearable.
  • The countless number of times Carey smiled at me and nursed me back to health – both physically and emotionally. She never, not once, left my side or expressed any frustration. The complete selflessness and dedication gave me more strength than I can possibly tell you. She made me realize, over and over again, what kind of person I wanted to be.
  • The laughter of my kids. Even though they saw me at my weakest – they never really understood how serious my situation was. They still don’t understand. They think I am some kind of superhero. I am proud of myself for only ever showing them my optimistic and strong side. They never, not once, saw my doubt and insecurity about what was going on on my life.
  • My happiness at receiving flowers and a gift basket from the office after my surgery. Along with my happiness at the cards and gifts my family and friends got me -wishing me well.
  • Being cranky when I was admitted to the hospital and not letting anyone come visit me. Not even family. For 4 days, only Carey was by my side. Constantly – again, she never left my side or uttered a negative word. Not once.
  • The pride I felt at walking a mile as recovery commenced, followed by my frustration as I paid for it by crashing for two days afterward.

I could go on forever. I have so many memories of the past 5 months. I may compile them chronologically at some point and take my cancer blog and publish it online for other cancer patients to see.

The one thing I have learned through all of this is the depth of love my beautiful fiance has for me, people. I have learned so much about myself and my family as well – but Carey is the most striking thing in all of this.

Complete and utter selflessness is a rare thing – even among people who are in love. She gave EVERYTHING of herself for me – the point of neglecting herself. She is so strong, so wonderful, so magical. I don’t know how I would have made it without her – she gave me the will to keep fighting. She showed me what strength truly is – and I could do no less because she looked at me with such love, trust, and devotion.

She saw me as a fighter – and so I became one. Better than I ever was before.

ahhh – time to stop. Anyway – those are some of my “Still shot” memories over the past few months.

Bedroom Strife

Carey and I have an interesting problem in the bedroom. It’s not what you think.

See the issue is this – Carey really, really enjoys lounging in the bedroom. She can stay all day in bed, watching television – only getting up to pee and eat.

I can’t do that. The bedroom only has two purposes in my opinion. One of them is sleep.

So you begin to see the dilemma. Carey occasionally has days/nights where she wants to just crawl in bed, veg out, and watch TV. Of course, she also wants me to be with her when she does this.

I never even had a television in my bedroom. I bought one for Carey when we moved in together. She didn’t ask – but I knew she really wanted it. So she got it. I feel uncomfortable with a television in the bedroom. It can never, ever, be on when I am going to sleep. If it’s not 100% dark and quiet when I go to sleep, I’ll be up all night.

Tonight we went and interviewed a DJ for our wedding. On the way home, Carey stated that she was really tired and wanted to just relax in bed and watch television. She asked me to stay in the room with her. I visibly winced – and I watched her eyes crinkle in humor as she observed my internal conflict.

On the one hand, Carey is my angel – I love everything she does for me, selflessly, every day. How can I do less? On the other hand, I really, really hate watching TV in bed. What to do?

So here I am, in bed, typing this blog as Carey watches shows recorded on the DVR. It feels unnatural, but I will do anything for her.

Now I have to poll my audience – am I alone in not wanting a television in the bedroom? Am I alone in thinking of the bedroom as a sanctuary of quiet peacefulness and not an entertainment room (except for … ahem … intimate entertainment?)

Carey’s Revenge

If you remember in my previous post, Wedding Show Discrimination, I made lighthearted fun of Carey for excluding me from the bridal show she took her friend to.

Well, she exacted her revenge this past weekend. She took me to a bridal show about 10 million times bigger and more chaotic than the other one she went to.

This company, Perfect Wedding Guide, put on a show in Orlando. There were, literally, a thousand brides-to-be and a hundreds of somewhat more reluctant grooms-to-be.

The disparity was kind of funny. The brides were all bubbly and vivacious – so excited to be at the show. The grooms were more reserved, gamely following their women wherever they went and making noncommittal sounds as their women oohed and ahhed at each vendor booth.

Truth be told, there were some amazing photographers and bakers there. What surprised me, though, was how confrontational these vendors were. Not in a bad way – but I felt like I was in a third-world market. The vendors would step in front of you and block your path to get your attention. They would pull you in – entice you with free cookies and snacks.

Don’t get me wrong – it was all politely done, but I was shocked at how aggressive these vendors were. So I amused myself by poking soft fun at the vendors as they gave their speech. For example, the vendor from Bloomingdale’s, trying to get us to register there, was going on and on about how elegant their registry was – so I looked at her very seriously and asked if they I could register fishing bait with them. After all, I needed a bunch of night crawlers for our honeymoon “cruise” in the jon-boat.

Then a DJ accosted us and was trying to smarm his way into our confidence. He said they were a full service DJ company so I looked at him squarely and said if his staff couldn’t make balloon animals for the kids the deal was off. When he looked baffled, I grabbed Carey by the arm and walked away.

Of course, Carey smacked me. Hard.

So I had a lot of fun. Until the fashion show. Talk about chaos incarnate. It would have been a great fashion show had the planners not decided to have every model throw free t-shorts to the crowd to get them to cheer and act lively.

The crowd obliged. They went ape shit when a model walked out. Screaming, yelling, jumping up and down. It was so bad that I couldn’t see the models as they walked down the runway. People were moving seats trying to determine where the “prime” spot was that was to get the the free stuff. Happened to be OUR seat was the prime spot. I caught a bag and a t-shirt.

So anyway – after the chaos that was the fashion show, it was time to wait for the grand prize. They were passing out everything from floral packages to full Hawaiian honeymoons.

Surprise – Carey won free up lighting for our reception! She was so excited. She says she never wins everything – I told her that she had won my heart a long time ago. She groaned at how corny I am, but kissed me anyway.

Then came the big prize – the giveaway for the Hawaiian vacation. They didn’t draw names from a box for this one. No – they made every bride-to-be wear one of the shirts they gave away and they tossed a bouquet into the crowd. The bride who caught it won the honeymoon.

Can you smell disaster? I did. I saw it coming a mile away.

Two brides caught the bouquet simultaneously and started, wait for it, FIGHTING over it. Then their men got involved. It was seriously ugly. Carey was riveted – she hates fighting but I guess we found a type of conflict she can get into – bride wars.

Well – the show was . . . interesting. We met some good vendors – Carey won a grand prize – and I got to make fun of people who couldn’t retaliate openly. All in all – a good day.

No you can’t have my number!

Carey, the kids, and I were out shopping tonight for some necessary clothing for the kids. As I was checking out at the counter, the clerk said:

“Can I have you telephone number sir?”

I immediately answered, “No, you may not.”

The clerk looked at me and said slowly, “ooohhhhkayyyy….” She obviously thought I was being unreasonable – I was one of those customers – you know the kind. The ones with “annoying customer” stamped on their forehead – the ones who will make her job more difficult.

So I smiled and said, “I don’t give my phone number to just every pretty lady. Unless, ” I winked, “you want to take me out to dinner.”

Carey smacked me – hard.

The clerk laughed and decided I was not as annoying as she had thought,and keyed in a fake phone number for me.

I used to get filled with self-righteous anger. I used to give the clerk a really hard time for trying to enforce what I saw a nonsensical corporate policy. Then I realized that the clerk had little say in the matter, so I started deferring in a more polite fashion.

Still – the matter puzzles me.

Asking for a phone number is not like the programs bookstores and grocery stores offer. They offer discounts to members. I never take them up on it – but at least the memberships at the grocery and bookstore offer discounts to members.

It’s just not enticing enough for me to get that membership – I prefer to keep my shopping anonymity to getting a discount and having my spending habits profiled. Carey doesn’t stand on my philosophical point and gets the memberships and, hypocrite that I am, I sometimes use them. (It’s OK to track HER habits, I suppose. Just not mine)

So – I can understand the grocery store and bookstore memberships. You get value for your membership – you agree to a reduction of privacy in exchange for a discounted price. I don’t do it – but I understand those who do. The value is pretty good too – sometimes you get 10% – 30% discounts. And it’s completely voluntary to join. So I approve of those membership policies – curmudgeons like me can abstain while the rest of the world pays less than me.

The phone number thing, though, escapes me. I have no idea why I get asked that question. Or what purpose it serves. I have been to several stores that actually required a telephone number and refused to complete a transaction until I supplied one. I, being the self-righteous man that I am, walk out every time and go somewhere else. In my experience, most companies that try to demand a telephone number quickly back away and make it voluntary.

Still – can someone enlighten me as to what purpose this telephone policy serves? Aside from profiling your customers, I mean, without requiring a membership. Anyone?

Based on the new laws, it’s pretty difficult for a company to legally use that phone number to solicit me. If my number were listed they can conceivably use the phone number to get my address to send me flyers and such. Still – that seems like a convoluted and unlikely way to get an address.

So why do they ask me for my telephone number? Why not offer a voluntary membership program like grocery stores and bookstores (unless they can’t afford to offer value for a membership)?

Recovery Update

A lot of you read my blog to know what’s happening with my cancer and my recovery. I have been posting more eclectic posts as I recover and I find my life isn’t 100% focused on my cancer. Still, I have a lot going on.

  • I’m still not eating with my mouth. I need to use my feeding tube. I have a feeding pump that injects 8oz of my “formula” into my belly in about an hour. Any faster than that and I get very, very nauseous.
  • I am starting to get a bare minimum of taste back, but I am still not making saliva. Last week I got a nasty case of oral thrush as a result. See, I was kind of tasting the Fuze Black & Green tea, so I stocked up on it and was drinking it orally as much as possible. The sugars in the tea were the feeding frenzy the fungi needed to thrive. Because I don’t have saliva, I don’t naturally wash the fungi away the way you do.
  • My strength is increasing, but I am still very weak. I took it upon myself yesterday afternoon to go to the grocery store and do the week’s shopping. I almost couldn’t finish. I seriously considered leaving my cart in the aisle and driving home; I was that tired. Only pride kept me going and, when I got home, I crashed for 3 hours on the couch.
  • My hair continues to thin. My chemotherapy was kind to me in that I didn’t lose clumps of hair, but every day in the shower I stop the drain with hair that falls out. I don’t know when the thinning will stop – but I hope it does soon.
  • My blood counts should be returning to normal about now, although it will be a couple of weeks before I am out of the woods. That’s why I was so paranoid this week and last as every child in my house got the flu.
  • The thick mucus in my mouth is getting significantly better – I barely use my “spit cup” anymore at all. Mostly it’s in the morning and after I try to eat something with my mouth.
  • Items I have eaten orally in the past week: 2 bites mashed potatoes, two bites chicken nugget, small handful of Apple Jacks, one goldfish cracker, one bite of pizza. The problem is, the initial bite tastes almost normal, but subsequent ones taste like ash or cardboard. They say it could be months before I recover my taste, but the fact that I have some taste already is a heartening sign.
  • I still only weigh 159lbs. Check me out:
  • I am up to 5-6 cans of my formula a day, but I really need to be having 7 if I want to put back on a little weight.
  • Because I have lost so much weight, my diabetes is virtually non-existent. Also, my blood-pressure, which has been borderline high for years, is completely normal.
  • I have been getting (no pun intended) pains in my neck where my surgery was. My surgeon told me to expect this as my nerve endings started to recover. Still, it’s no fun to have those sharp, biting, pains in the neck.

So the big thing for me now is to recover my strength and a little weight. I can’t walk across the yard without getting tired. Every day I try to take a little walk now. There is a gorgeous lake right by my house, Lake Davis. To walk around it is about 3/4 of a mile. There are benches every few hundred yards – so I walk the lake and sit as I get tired. I need to get this strength back – because I am going stir crazy here at the house.

Yesterday was the worst – I am so bored that I want to scream. So – my mission is to recover my strength and get back to work. I am a little nervous about going back to work with my feeding tube – it’s not something I want a lot of people to see – but I suppose I don’t really have a choice.

So there’s my status, in a nutshell, people.

Feeling "Rejected" as a Writer?

Rejections are a part of writing. Every would-be author who is serious about getting published has received more than one rejection. Some of the best writers of a our time have received not one, but hundreds of rejections.

  • Madeline L’Engle’s book, A Wrinkle in Time, was turned down 29 times before she found a publisher.
  • C.S. Lewis received over 800 rejections before he sold a single piece or writing.
  • Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind was rejected by 25 publishers.
  • Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was rejected 121 times.
  • Johnathan Livingston Seagull was rejected 40 times.
  • Louis L’Amour was rejected over 200 times before he sold any of his writing.
  • The San Francisco Examiner turned down Rudyard Kipling’s submission 1n 1889 with the note, “I am sorry, Mr. Kipling, but you just do not know how to use the English language.”
  • An editor once told F. Scott Fitzgerald, “You’d have a decent book if you’d get rid of that Gatsby Character.”
  • The Dr. Seuss book, And to Think I Saw it on Mulberry Street, was rejected for being “too different from other juveniles on the market to warrant selling.”
  • George Orwell’s Animal Farm was rejected with the comment, “It’s impossible to sell animal stories in the USA.”
  • The manuscript for The Diary of Anne Frank received the editorial comment, “This girl doesn’t, it seems to me, have a special perception or feeling which would lift that book above the curiosity level.”

Writing is painful and thankless – but seeing your name in print makes it all worth it.

Who’s Your Favorite Author?

I have been an avid, obsessive, compulsive (pick your adjective) reader of science fiction since I was a kid. I got asked by a friend the other day for a recommendation for a good sci-fi to read.

As I was pondering his request, I realized that the sci-fi genre, in my opinion, has a serious lack of memorable authors nowadays. Maybe I’m getting old and I just don’t appreciate the new breed – kind of the way I think 80’s rock in many ways is superior to what is put out today.

So, who are my favorite authors? Let me tell you – then go ahead and comment and tell me who YOURS are (even if it’s not sci-fi). Who knows – maybe you’ll turn me on to something new!

My Favorite Authors

  • Isaac Asimov
    He is the definition of sci-fi for me. His influence on me, indeed all of sci-fidom, is staggering. He is best known for his Foundation Series, but he wrote literally hundreds of other books/stories. One of my favorites is Caves of Steel, part of Asimov’s Robot Series, which takes place thousands of years before the Foundation Series on a repressed and overcrowded Earth. Also, don’t forget about Pebble in the Sky, the first novel in his Galactic Empire series. It’s about a retired man in the 1950’s who between one step and the next ends up tens of thousands of years in his future.
  • Robert Heinlein
    One of the most influential writers in sci-fi, Heinlein also had a easy-to-read style that kept the reader engaged from cover to cover. I was a late adopter of Heinlein but once I started I couldn’t stop. My favorite book Stranger in a Strange Land, about a human raised by Martians. He also wrote Starship Troopers, from which a crappy 90210-esque movie was made. The book is MUCH better; trust me.
  • Ben Bova
    Bova was one of my first “favorites” when I was a teenager. His Orion series completely enthralled me – the story of a near-immortal man plucked from time-to-time to do the bidding of the “gods” who were nothing more than really, really advanced humans from the future. His nemesis was a godlike Neanderthal who tries to change the time stream constantly so Neanderthals and not homo sapiens emerge as the dominant race on Earth. His latest books, in the past decade, have been “hard” or “almost realistic” science fiction stories about mankind’s journey through the solar system and the politics and intrigue that follow us wherever we go.
  • Douglas Adams
    I absolutely love Douglas Adams’ books. Not a single bit of science in them, but he was the absolute master of comedic sci-fi. Unfortunately, the comedy in his books does not translate well to the big screen, as we’ve seen more than once as directors tried to take Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy out of print and onto film. I can’t pick up any of his books without laughing every 3 minutes – it’s that funny.
  • Spider Robinson
    Spider doesn’t get the credit he deserves. He, too, writes comedic science fiction, but also has other more serious sci-fi books out there. He is a great writer with such an easy style that I enjoy just picking up his books. His Callahan series of short stories is what he is best-known for and they are truly worth the read. The series starts with Callahan’s Crosstime Saloon.
  • Alan Dean Foster
    Foster is and always will be in the top 3 list of my favorite authors. He is one of the most prolific writers alive today. He has done dozens of media novelizations, such as Alien, aliens, Alien 3, The Chronicles of Riddick, and Transformers. The first books I read from him were his fantasy Spellsinger series, but I quickly found out that his sci-fi skills were superior to his fantasy skills. His novels, the Damned Trilogy are fantastic – I highly recommend them.
  • E E “Doc’ Smith
    One of the early “greats” of science fiction, Smith wrote a very compelling series that spanned a universe. His Lensmen series, started in the late 1930’s, help create science fiction as we know it today. If you read it now, it is very dated, sexist, and almost reads like a male fantasy – but get past that and see how remarkable this series is. You’ll love it.
  • Arthur C Clarke
    What can I say here that hasn’t already been said? He’s an icon – almost on par with Isaac Asimov in my opinion. His book, 2001: A Space Odyssey was turned into one of the most-loved science fiction films of our time. But he has done so much more than that. He is one of the most recognized named in science fiction.
  • Orson Scott Card
    How can I not have Card in this list? He is not just an amazing author, he is a teacher as well. He writes books, has classes and lecture, and generally tries to uplift new authors and shed some light on the mysterious craft we call writing. He is best known for his Ender series – which is an incredible tale of how a handful of pre-teen kids conquer and destroy and entire alien species – without even realizing it.
  • Harry Harrison
    I thought I’d round off the list with one of my early favorites. Harry Harrison wrote the tongue-in-cheek Stainless Steel Rat series, about galaxy-spanning thief and do-gooder who calls himself the Stainless Steel Rat, as well a West of Eden, a parallel timeline where dinosaurs were never wiped out.

So that’s my top 10 list of favorite sci-fi authors. Who’s on your list?