THANKSGIVING –2024

THANKSGIVING –2024

This year I, like maybe many of you, found it difficult to find things to be thankful for with Trump and his thugs marauding around the country, trying to destroy our democracy, but after I’d thought about it awhile, I found I had quite a bit to be thankful for:
First of all, on a personal level:

–I’m thankful for modern medicine, especially my new hip, which has made it possible for me to move without pain (mostly) and actually function like a human being again, and I’m VERY thankful for the doctors who found my husband’s heart blockage, which was completely asymptomatic, and put in a stent before he had the heart attack he would almost certainly have had.

–I’m thankful for the Olympics, which came along in my hour of need (right after my hip surgery, when my husband and I ALSO got COVID) and gave us something great to watch while we were recovering–especially the opening ceremonies, the beach volleyball competition, the track and field events, the road bicycle racing, Snoop Dogg, and the silver horse galloping in the middle of the Seine.

–I’m thankful that my family is all well, including our dog and cat–especially the cat–and safe for the moment, which is all anybody can be, and that we can all spend Thanksgiving together.

–I’m thankful for rimadyl and gabapentin, which make it possible for our elderly bulldog to rest comfortably and spend his time blissfully asleep on the couch.

–I’m beyond thankful our cat, who was lost for nearly a month in the middle of winter last year, through several snows and some bitter cold nights, is safely home with us again, spending her time between lying on the fleece blanket on the couch, on the heating pad, in front of the fire, and on our laps.

–I’m thankful for my ever-patient husband and my wonderful, caring, kind, brilliant daughter, two people who give me faith in humanity when it’s otherwise hard to come by.

–I’m thankful for H.L. Mencken (WHERE is he when we need him?), who said, H.L. Mencken: “In this world of sin and sorrow, there is always something to be thankful for. As for me, I rejoice that I am not a Republican.”

–And I’m thankful for the TV show, TED LASSO, which took our troubled minds off the awful election outcome, made us laugh, and taught us all kinds of lessons, like “Doing the right thing is never the wrong thing,” and “BELIEVE!”

On a broader level, I’m thankful that:

–As Martin Luther King said, “The arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” I think it really helps to sometimes take the long view because the long view is really encouraging (except for that part about the dinosaurs getting wiped out by a meteor.) Slavery used to be worldwide, torture, beheadings, and drawing and quartering were routine, the concept of thinking of anyone other than only your very small area or tribe as human didn’t exist, the average person had no rights whatsoever until VERY recently, and gays and trans people had no rights at all. And even on a shorter timeline, black Americans, including famous baseball players, were treated like garbage when they just wanted a meal or a place to sleep, interracial couples couldn’t marry, gays had to stay in the closet forever, and gay couples couldn’t marry or have children. Progress doesn’t always march forward–it sometimes feels like it’s one step forward, two steps back, but gradually things DO move forward and things DO get better, even though sometimes we can’t see it.

–Reality can’t be manipulated or twisted or ignored or rationalized away or dismissed as a hoax, in spite of what Trump’s people have said about creating their own reality. There’s no such thing. Reality is what it is. Climate change is real, the laws of physics still apply, vaccines work, ivermectin doesn’t, JFK is not coming back to declare Trump king of the world, the Democrats aren’t murdering children in the basements of pizza parlors, and Hitler wasn’t a good guy. And reality has a way of reasserting itself, so a regime based on lies and deceptions and mis- and dis-information is doomed to fail in the end. As Galileo said, after being forced to recant his findings that he could see moons going around Jupiter, that the heavens were not unchanging, and that the earth wasn’t the center of the universe, “Nevertheless, it moves.” And it does, no matter what anybody says.

–Even though lots of people are predicting certain doom with Trump’s re-election (and it certainly looks like it) it’s impossible to tell whether something that happens is a good thing or a bad thing, as witness the classic Chinese parable of the old farmer: A farmer lost his horse and all his friends said, “Oh, that’s terrible,” and the farmer said, “Maybe.” He was right, the horse came home leading several wild horse he’d hooked up with, and all the farmer’s friends said, “That’s wonderful,” and the farmer said, “Maybe.” He was right, because his son tried to ride one of the wild horses, was bucked off, and broke his leg. All the farmers said, “That’s terrible!” and again the farmer said, “Maybe.” And several days later the Chinese army came through the village, impressing all the young men into service and almost certain death in battle, but the farmer’s son couldn’t go because of his broken leg. All of the farmer’s friends said, “That’s wonderful,” and the farmer said, “Maybe…” Seemingly awful events can have unexpectedly good consequences, seeming successes can turn out badly, and irony, in spite of what everybody says, is alive and well.

–Nobody knows what’s going to happen. This is so true. You can game out trend lines and probabilities and historical precedent, all of which can help, but in the end, as Yogi Berra said, “It’s difficult to make predictions, especially about the future.” The Spanish Armada was almost certain to win its sea battle with England–until a storm came along and scattered the fleet in all directions, making them easy pickings. During the D-Day landings, Hitler had taken a sleeping pill and his men were afraid to waken him, so he slept through the critical first hours–and General Rommel, probably the smartest general Hitler had, was in Berlin celebrating his wife’s birthday instead of at his headquarters. During the Battle of Waterloo, Napoleon sent a note to one of his generals, telling him where to attack, and if he’d done what the note said, they would have won–but the general couldn’t read his writing, made the wrong guess, sent his men to the wrong place, and the rest is history. Hitler was within two weeks of utterly destroying the RAF and their bases, making it possible for him to march unopposed into London–until two Luftwaffe pilots got lost in the fog and dropped their bombs on what they thought was the target but was actually a London suburb, leading to Churchill’s bombing Berlin, which made Hitler lose his temper and stop his assault on the RAF and begin bombing London.

So just remember, as L. Frank Baum of WIZARD OF OZ fame said: “Never give up. Nobody knows what’s going to happen.”

And finally, don’t feel guilty about enjoying yourself at Thanksgiving. Some people have said they worry that being happy while such terrible things are happening is a sign that they’re not doing everything they can, but that’s just not true. Kindness, being with friends, happiness, and laughter are some of our most important weapons against tyranny, and they also tell tyrants their power is finite, that there are all kinds of things they don’t–and never will–rule over. One of my favorite stories is about Virginia and Leonard Woolf. Virginia was in the garden in the midst of the war when Leonard came to the window and called her in to listen to Hitler, who was about to speak. Virginia refused. “I’m planting iris,” she said, “and they will still be here when Hitler is dead and gone.” She was right. Hitler’s long gone. And if you go to her house, now a museum, you can see the irises she planted.

So plant irises, cook, gather with friends, laugh, love one another–

And have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Connie Willis

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Doomsday Book ebook sale

The ebook of Connie’s award winning (Hugo, Nebula, Locus) novel Doomsday Book is on sale on most major ebook sellers for $1.99.   It is currently #1 in Science Fiction Time Travel books on Amazon.

May be an image of text that says 'Best Sellers in Time Travel Science Fiction Top 100 Paid Top 100 Free #1 #2 CONNIEWILLIS CONNIE WILLIS DoomsdayBook 本時 Doomsday Book MT 作 MOEIU ጥኮል KapuTe fmlkey Doomsday Book: A Novel of the Oxford Time... >Connie Willis 1b 6,162 Kindle Edition $1.99 The Ministry of Time: A Novel >Kaliane Bradley 8,012 Kindle Edition $14.99'

 

Barnes & Noble link:  https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/doomsday-book-connie-willis/1100272102?ean=9780307784445

Amazon Kindle Link: https://www.amazon.com/Doomsday-Book-Novel-Oxford-Travel-ebook/dp/B004G60FXG/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?

 

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THE ABBEY ROAD ZEBRA CROSSING

THE ABBEY ROAD ZEBRA CROSSING

Today (August 8) marks the anniversary of the day the four Beatles walked across the road at an Abbey Road zebra crossing–and into history.

Back when my daughter was in high school, she went to see a Beatles cover band and became obsessed with the Beatles. She and her friends dubbed themselves the Fab Four, and she began reading all about the Beatles. One day she came to me and said, “Did you know that there’s a rumor that Paul’s dead?”

“Are you KIDDING?” I said, incensed. “I was there when that rumor started. I helped SPREAD that rumor!”

Or rather, rumors. There were dozens. If you played “A Day in the Life” backwards, it said, “Paul is dead, miss him, miss him;” if you held the Sergeant Pepper album up to a mirror, the words “Lonely Hearts” were transformed into “1 ONE HE DIED ONE 1;” and John Lennon mumbled, “I buried Paul,” at the end of “Strawberry Fields Forever.”

That’s because Paul had been killed in a car accident in January of 1967. He’d had a fight with the other band members during a recording session, driven off in a huff, and crashed. He’d been decapitated, and the remaining Beatles had replaced him with a guy who looked and sounded (and could write songs) exactly like him. (Which, like all conspiracy theories, makes no sense. The chance of finding someone like that is only slightly less likely than that of keeping the substitution secret.)

So how did the whole thing get started? Because on the cover of the Beatles album ABBEY ROAD, Paul was barefoot.

The album cover showed the four Beatles crossing the street at a pedestrian crossing (called a zebra [short e] crossing in England) on a tree-lined street. The four of them were walking one after the other. John Lennon’s in front, dressed all in white, Ringo Starr’s next, wearing a long black coat, then Paul McCartney in a gray suit and white shirt and no shoes, and finally George Harrison in jeans and a blue denim shirt.

“See?” fans said. “Paul’s lack of shoes means he’s dead. In certain cultures the dead are buried without shoes.” (Not in England’s, but, oh, well…) “And Ringo’s obviously dressed as an undertaker and John is Jesus or an angel or something, and George is the gravedigger.”

OR that was just what they happened to be wearing during the recording session at EMI Studios when the photographer had them go outside to shoot the cover for their new album. That’s the story the photographer–and the Beatles–tell. “We were wearing ordinary clothes,” Paul explained. “I was barefoot because it happened to be a hot day.” And the candid snapshots Paul’s wife, Linda, took as they lined up and waited to cross are far too relaxed and jokey for guilty conspirators trying to send a coded message. (In one of them Paul and Ringo are taking a grinning, stagey bow, and in another Paul’s wearing huaraches.)

It doesn’t matter. No amount of proof or rational explanation can stop a conspiracy theory once it gets going, and this one’s still going strong fifty years after ABBEY ROAD came out, even though Paul (or is double) has gone on to write hundreds of hit songs, write ballets and oratorios, and be knighted. (If you don’t believe me, google “Paul is dead.”)

The album cover has become the most recognizable in the world Even though the record label originally hated it because it didn’t say “Abbey Road” or “The Beatles” anywhere on it, and they said it would never sell because “no one will know who they are,” it was a huge success and has become the most famous album cover in the world.

It’s been recreated by everyone from Kiss to Dr. Who and the Daleks. The Sesame Street characters reenacted it (with Oscar the Grouch as Paul), and so did Dave McLean and Montana Country and a quartet of Franciscan Brothers. The Peanuts characters recreated it with Snoopy as Paul, of course–he’s always barefoot–and so did the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the Simpsons, and the scene has appeared in movies from TRAINSPOTTING to THE PARENT TRAP. Even Paul (or his double) got into the act, doing an album cover featuring him being dragged across the street by his sheepdog.

And the zebra crossing in St. John’s Wood where it all started has become a major tourist attraction. It’s been listed as a Grade II Listed structure by the British government for its “cultural and historical importance.”

Scores of tourists visit every day, there’s a live webcam that records everyone who crosses (including music-lovers, wedding couples, and my daughter, who visited twice, once with a band of carolers and a second time when she had to scramble out of the way of a taxi who didn’t care that she was trying to take a photo of her friends reenacting the cover) and on the fiftieth anniversary of the album, thousands of fans gathered at the zebra crossing to celebrate (and cross the road), and on August eighth, 2019, hundreds of people gathered to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the album’s release and take turns walking in single file across the road.

And sometimes Paul McCartney shows up. He lives nearby, and every once in awhile he walks over, takes off his shoes, and walks across the road, starting the rumor all over again.

Connie Willis
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Connie Willis – New Editions of first two Oxford Time Travel Books Coming in October

The First two books in Connie Willis’ Oxford Time Travel series will have new trade-paperback editions published this on October 31. 

Doomsday Book

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To Say Nothing of the Dog

 

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2023 Locus Awards Weekend

The annual Locus Awards Weekend is being held Jun 21 – Jun 25 in Oakland, CA and virtually.  

Connie will be participating online with a reading on Friday, June 23, a panel on Saturday June 24 as well as hosting the awards ceremony.   She is also doing a writing workshop on Sunday, Jun 25. 

Visit the Locus Awards website for more details.

If you can’t attend, the Awards ceremony should be available via the Locus Magazine Youtube channel at 6:00 p.m. PDT – LOCUS AWARDS CEREMONY with MC Maggie Tokuda-Hall and Special Guest Connie Willis

 

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The Road To Roswell – Coming June 27th – Appearances, News and More

The Road To Roswell, the latest novel from Hugo and Nebula award winning author Connie Willis is released on June 27, 2023.   Available in hardback, e-book, and audiobook.  Links and excerpts are available at the official Penguin Random House Road to Roswell page.

Appearances:

June 28, 2023 – 7 pm – Connie will be having a meet and greet at 7 pm on Wednesday, June 28, in Greeley, CO at The Midnight Oil Bookstore, 827 10th Street, Greeley, CO 80631 .  Details at their website, Booksatmidnight.com

June 29, 2023 – 6 pm – Old Firehouse Books signing at The Old Town Library at 201 Peterson St, Fort Collins, CO 80524 .   Details on the Old Firehouse Books web site.   They will ship signed books (US only)  if you can’t make it to the signing. 

July 2, 2023 – 1 pm – Connie will also have an event at 1 pm Sunday, July 2 at the Broadway Book Mall, 316 S Broadway, Denver, CO 80209. No event link yet (and their online website does not reflect their current location).

News Articles and Reviews on The Road To Roswell

Locus Magazine –  June 2023 issue has an interview with Connie.  You can read an excerpt on their website and order the issue there. 

Lithub.com – In Praise of Sci-Fi Legend Connie Willis’s Cinematic Universe

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WEBSITE UPDATE–GOOD BY GOD, WE’RE GOING TO MISSOURI–PART I

WEBSITE UPDATE–GOOD BY GOD, WE’RE GOING TO MISSOURI–PART I

A couple of weeks ago, we loaded up the car, pointed it east, and headed for Missouri. Mark Twain used to tell a story about a family’s moving to Missouri, and the little boy leaning out the back of the wagon and saying, “Goodbye, house, I’m goin’ to Missouri. Goodbye, trees, I’m goin’ to Missouri. Goodbye, God, I’m goin’ to Missouri.” “Now,” Mark Twain said, “you know he never said such a thing. He said, ‘Good, by God, I’m goin’ to Missouri.”

That was us. We were headed to the tiny town of Hamilton, Missouri (1500 residents), which you’ve most likely never heard of, but which is known to quilters as Quilt Town, USA. The home of the Missouri Star Quilting Company, the town is a mecca for them and for sewing machine collectors. My husband Courtney is both, and he’d wanted to go ever since a quilter friend first told him about it.

Missouri Star began as a tiny family quilting enterprise with a single long-arm sewing machine, selling quilting services and supplies to locals. Unable to make enough from that, they went online and began making how-to quilting videos, which Courtney says were actually fun to watch and easy to follow (unlike many which are deadly dull and/or unnecessarily complicated. I remember watching one where the teacher used two nearly identical shades of cream you couldn’t tell apart to show how to piece a quilt.)

The online business was quickly a hit, and the store in Hamilton, MO, expanded to two, then three, then a whole line of stores, buying up abandoned buildings in Hamilton’s dying downtown and turning them into what Forbes called “The Disneyland of Quilting.”
At this point they own one entire city block (except in no way can Hamilton be called a city) with two floors of undivided stores. Babies and Kids, Sew Seasonal (holiday fabrics), the Batik Boutique, Modern, and even one devoted entirely to fabrics with Disney, Marvel, Star Wars, Star Trek, and sports fabrics called License to Sew.

One of the stores was originally the J.C. Penney’s store in town and the fact that J.C. Penney was born here is the town’s other claim to fame. The appropriately named James Cash Penney (his name is what’s called an aptonym, a name that matches the person’s occupation, like William Wordsworth, runner Usain Bolt, tennis player Margaret Court, or John Blow, the pipe organist at Westminster Abbey) was one of ten kids, and the house is a museum.

Penney started out as a clerk in a dry goods store, but his health was bad, and he was forced to move to the drier climate of Colorado. He bought a meat market which went bankrupt, and then, in 1902, started his own dry goods store in Kemmerer, Wyoming called “The Golden Rule Store” which eventually became the chain known as J.C. Penney, the first truly nationwide department store chain. Penney is on record as saying, “Boy, am I glad I failed as a butcher!”

On the other side of the street are the main Missouri Star store (with T-shirts, baseball caps, tote bags, jigsaw puzzles, etc.) and shops devoted to florals, old-fashioned quilting prints that look like the calicos and flour-sack prints Grandma made her quilts from, and primitives, including flannels that look like wool for making the pioneer wool sugans Courtney loves.

The stores are decorated on the outside with quilting murals (it really is Disneyland) and inside with quilts (of course!) and quilting maxims like: “Quilt till you wilt!” and “A Clean House is a Sign of a Broken Sewing Machine” and “She Who Dies With the Most Fabric is Not Sewing Fast Enough” and my favorite, “Do not question the size of my fabric stash unless you think it should be bigger!”

For anyone who loves fabrics and/or colors, the stores a a rainbow-colored paradise. Courtney bought some batik fabric that’s the most beautiful red I’ve ever seen, and I succumbed to a pinkish-orangeish-reddish-coral called “Crush,” which is this year’s “Kona Color of the Year.” (No, I haven’t suddenly started sewing. It’s for a blouse.)

Besides the quilting stores, there’s a sewing machine shop and “Man’s Land,” a place for bored husbands with a TV tuned to a sports channel, a pool table, and a long row of leather recliners. (Note: Every time I sat down, there or anywhere else, I was asked, “Too much shopping?” and had to explain that no, my husband was the quilter, at which point they assumed we quilted together. It’s sort of like the sexism you encounter in hardware stores, only in reverse.)

There are also several quilt-themed (of course!) gift shops and places to eat. We had a wonderful lunch at a tea shop called Mrs. Little’s with the Missouri version of high tea: cream cheese and ham or turkey sandwiches, corn chowder, orange carrots and pineapple jello, and lemon-frosted cakes. The other day we ate at the hamburgers and cokes place (which has lattes and ice cream, too.)

There’s also an ice cream shop which was fun to go to because it was presided over by a young guy who all the high school girls came in to flirt with. “Are you serious?” he asked one pair of giggling girls. “No, I’m 16 and she’s 14,” they said. “And jail bait,” we added silently.

But the highlight of Hamilton for Courtney was the Missouri Quilt Museum, located three blocks away from downtown in a 1903 high school building. It had an impressive array of antique quilts (one embroidered with names including that of J.C. Penney’s father) and an even more impressive array of sewing machines (4000 at last count) Courtney even saw one he’d never heard of. (Note: Courtney knows almost every brand, machine, and model ever made, so a machine has to be really rare to be one he doesn’t recognize.) It was a Singer Model 76-1, a small machine used specifically for gathering (making the loose stitches to be pulled to form gathers or ruffles).

He went home the first night and did a bunch of research on the machine and then went back the next day, armed with his computer, to ask if he could take a closer look at it to see exactly how it worked.

The Singer 76-1 was in a huge basement room lined with toy sewing machines (the museum people had mistakenly classified it as a toy) which was the largest I’ve ever seen. They had hundreds of toy machines in dozens of colors.

Some of our favorite displays included:
–antique toy machines complete with domed wooden cases, just like their full-sized counterparts
–toy treadle machines with narrow stands
–a large quilt made of tiny black and white pieces which, when you stood back from it, formed a portrait of Albert Einstein. It was displayed next to the classroom’s blackboards with Einstein’s famous “E=mc2” equation and quotes by him.
–a room full of miniature quilts made for doll beds made of pieces so tiny you couldn’t imagine anyone being able to sew them
–an entire room devoted to crazy quilts, the fancy silk and velvet and ribbon quilts sewn in irregular shapes with embroidery stitches edging them. (“Stitched with more than common pains, offspring of artistic brains…”)

The building itself was wonderful, too, with its stairways at either end, its gymnasium with wooden bleachers, and its built-into-the-wall blackboards. One of the visitors I talked to said he’d gone to school there and couldn’t believe how small it had gotten. “It seemed huge to me when I was a kid.”

Out front is “the World’s Largest Spool of Thread,” which is 22 feet high and has a million yards of thread on it. Visitors are welcome to bring their own spool of thread and add it to the mix.

The museum–and the town–were full of visitors who wanted to talk, sharing where they were from and comparing notes on other quilt places to go. We talked to people from California and Maine–and a group from back home in Colorado Springs.

Connie Willis

Visit Quilt Town, USA
MISSOURIQUILTCO.COM

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WEBSITE UPDATE–THE CORONATION

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“What is the finest sight in the world? A Coronation. What do people talk most about? A Coronation. What is delightful to have passed? A Coronation.”
Horace Walpole

Saturday I got up early to watch Charles III’s coronation. It was the second one I’d seen. The first was Elizabeth II’s which I watched seventy years ago on someone else’s TV because we didn’t own one yet. It was an impossibly grainy image on a tiny screen of a Cinderella-looking carriage drawn by four horses. I was only seven years old, but I have a vivid memory of it, probably because I was so fascinated by fairy tales and princesses and queens and golden coaches made out of pumpkins.

This time my husband and I watched it in color on a much larger screen while talking on the phone to our daughter in California the whole time as she kept us updated with texts from her friends and comments on Tumblr. Now, seventy years later, I am no longer all that fascinated by princess and carriages, but I am fascinated by history, and in terms of historical events, a coronation simply can’t be beat.

The coronation of England’s rulers has taken place in Westminster Abbey since 1066, when William the Conqueror was crowned there on Christmas Day. All British kings and queens except two (or three, depending on how you’re counting–Jane Grey, the
Nine-Days Queen” was executed before they could get her crowned) have been crowned in the Abbey since William the Conqueror in 1066. Only the boy king, Edward V, one of the little princes in the Tower, and Edward VIII, were never crowned, Edward V because Richard III had had him declared illegitimate and then had him disappeared and Edward VIII because he abdicated before his coronation took place, leaving his brother holding the bag. When George VI was crowned on May 12, 1937, the date for Edward’s coronation, the king wryly remarked, “Same date, different king.”

His coronation was broadcast over the radio and Elizabeth II’s over TV, but otherwise they were almost identical to that of earlier coronations, and the ceremony itself is nearly identical to the one Mark Twain described in The Prince and the Pauper or to the one in 1066 of William the Conqueror.

The ceremony begins with a procession down the Mall from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey, with the king/queen riding in a coach (not the golden one) accompanied by the Lord Mayor, the members of the royal household, an assortment of clerical, court, and parliamentary officials, and mounted officers. Once at the Abbey, the Sovereign enters, wearing a red-velvet-and-ermine cape with a long train and a crown, though not the one he or she will be crowned with.

The coronation itself is a complicated ceremony with a number of steps which have remained essentially the same since William the Conqueror’s coronation. The Sovereign sits down on the Coronation Chair, underneath which is the Stone of Scone (which actually was stolen from Scotland and in the 1950s some Scottish university students stole it back–it’s now on loan from them) and takes an oath to rule the kingdom according to law, to exercise justice with mercy, and to maintain the Church of England.

He’s then anointed with chrism (holy oil) which was originally given to Thomas à Becket, the then-Archbishop of Canterbury by the Virgin Mary, and given the royal spurs (symbolizing chivalry), the royal swords (symbolizing State, Mercy, and Justice), the royal ring (often called “the Wedding Ring of England”), the orb, and the sceptre, and is crowned with St. Edward’s crown.

The gold-and-purple velvet crown weighs nearly five pounds and is decorated with 444 gems, including rubies, topazes, amethysts, sapphires, and emeralds. Queen Elizabeth II commented that you had to be careful not to look down while reading the royal oath or “you could break your neck,” it was so heavy. I thought Charles looked weighed down by it, and I noticed during the communion part of the ceremony he was bare-headed.
After Communion, the monarch changes clothes again, this time a purple robe, and takes the Coronation Oath. The Archbishop then raises the crown for all to see, the congregation shouts “God save the king (or queen)!” and the Abbey bells ring out to announce the ascension of the new monarch.

It’s a very solemn occasion, though some kings haven’t taken it all that seriously. King John giggled and jeered during the anointing and left immediately after the crowning and before Holy Communion, George IV flirted with his mistress throughout the service, and Edward VIII demanded that his mistress, Wallis Simpson, be seated in a special place above the altar, which courtiers promptly dubbed “the Loose Box.”

And even if the monarch does take it seriously, things don’t always go smoothly. At Queen Victoria’s coronation, the Archbishop jammed the ring onto the wrong finger so she couldn’t get it off, and eighty-year-old Lord Rolle fell down the steps during the homage. He “rolled quite down…” Victoria remembered. “When he attempted to re-ascend them, I got up and advanced to the end of the steps in order to prevent another fall.”

Richard II’s shoe fell off and Edward VII’s crown was almost put on backwards. To make matters worse, Edward had just had an appendectomy and could barely walk. Which was still better than Queen Anne, who was having an attack of gout and couldn’t walk at all–she had to be carried in in a sedan chair. The Dean at George II’s coronation forgot to bring the chalice and paten for communion, and at George III’s, he forgot the Sword of State.

Elizabeth II’s coronation seemed to go off without a hitch but behind the scenes, there were “noblemen who split their breeches…and earls and viscounts producing miniature bottles from inside their coronets,” and when one of the peers knelt down to pay homage to the queen, there was a clatter as mothballs tumbled from his robes.

Charles III’s followed most of the traditions, changing the ceremony only by making it shorter and including leaders of different faiths to participate in what used to be a purely Church of England ceremony. There was also a gospel choir, and the traditional church choir included girls this time.

The highlights were Prince William’s kissing his father on the cheek after pledging allegiance to him, nine-year-old George (next in line to the throne after William) carrying his grandfather’s train, his brother and sister, Louis and Charlotte, dressed in black and white respectively and looking like a miniature Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia, and the fact that it rained (which somehow seemed appropriate.)

Some sovereigns, including this one, have had to deal with the fact that some–or all–of the people didn’t want them crowned. The public booed and hissed at Anne Boleyn as she rode to the Abbey, William the Conqueror had to post armed guards outside, and at this one, large numbers of people wearing yellow and black and bearing signs saying, “Abolish the Monarchy,” gathered in Trafalgar Square gathered to protest and were promptly arrested by security.

After the ceremony, everyone recesses to the strains of “Pomp and Circumstance” out of the Abbey for another procession back to Buckingham Palace. But that doesn’t fully convey the grandeur and panoply of the affair. There are banners and bunting and Union Jacks everywhere, marching bands and horses and troops in scarlet-and-black uniforms and helmets with flowing white plumes.

There’s music–by Handel, Elgar, and Purcell–and fireworks and a 62-gun salute from the Tower of London, and a sea of embroidered clerical robes and peers’ white ermine capes. And of diamonds and jewels and gold, from the Communion plate to the Sovereign’s clothing. Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation dress was white satin embroidered with silver and gold thread. “So glorious was the show with gold and satin,” Samuel Pepys wrote after seeing Charles II’s, “that we could not look at it,” and Mark Twain described the Abbey as being “frosted like a Milky Way of diamonds” and, when the sun hit the jewels, “flaming into a dazzling splendour of many-coloured fires.”

And there are other events, too–an RAF flyover and an appearance by the royal family on the balcony of Buckingham Palace and a fancy luncheon hosted by the new Sovereign for all the foreign dignitaries and other invited guests. Past coronations held lavish banquets, featuring roast swans and peacocks and venison, but in 1953, when Elizabeth II was crowned, post-war food rationing was still in effect, and they had to settle for chicken salad. “Poulet Reine Elizabeth” or “Coronation chicken” as it was dubbed, was a very special chicken salad, made with crème fraiche, apricot jam, curry powder, and wine, and it instantly became England’s most popular dish. (This coronation’s dish was called “Coronation Quiche” and featured spinach, broad beans, and tarragon–and sounded as exciting as Charles.

The coronation’s also a public event, with street parties and local celebrations in every town and village and people willing to stay up all night to secure a space from which to see it. Millions of spectators jam the procession and recession routes to catch a glimpse of the monarch. The weather this time meant that the flyover was smaller than they’d planned (though still resplendent with vapor trails of red and blue and white), the glass windows of the Cinderella coach (which is actually called the Gold State Coach) were spattered with rain, making it harder to see the new King and Queen, and the people along the procession route got drenched.

But there were still plenty of people and plenty of costumes–Union-Jack-printed dresses and suits and T-shirts and cardboard masks of Charles’ and Camilla’s faces and red-and-blue wigs. And there were millions more watching on TV around the world. Like me.
Paul Gallico wrote a delightful novella about an English family–mother, father, little boy, little girl, and crabby mother-in-law who come up to London from Sheffield for the coronation, only to find they’ve been swindled out of their “front row seats and champagne brunch” affair and now it’s too late to even find a place in the crowds where they can catch even a glimpse of the royal coach going by. It’s heartbreaking and ultimately uplifting as the father desperately tries to give his family the coronation experience he promised them, even to the champagne. If you’re a coronation fan, you definitely need to read it.

I’m glad I got up to see the coronation, especially since I may not live to see another one. Or, at this rate, there may not be another one. But if there is, and I’m still around, I’ll definitely be watching.

Connie Willis

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WEBSITE UPDATE–THE 2023 JACK WILLIAMSON LECTURESHIP

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This April I got to go to the Jack Williamson Lectureship in Portales for the second time since the Pandemic, and it was great. My daughter, who always does a forensics presentation, flew out and drove down with me since my husband couldn’t go–he was helping run an American Association of Physics Teachers meeting–and it took awhile since we stopped at every convenience store along the way to buy cornnuts and burnt peanuts and gummy pillows and red licorice and Reese’s peanut butter cups and soda pop and chips and pretty much every kind of junk food there was. (We were attempting to imitate the “Pig Tour” episode of Designing Woman and we did a pretty good job.)

We went the back way to Portales and were a little bit worried we might get lost and end up at the Grand Canyon like Thelma and Louise, but we didn’t, and got to Portales in time to have dinner at the Cattle Baron with Betty Williamson and Patrice Caldwell, my two sisters-separated-at-birth, who I fell in love with the very first time I attended a Lectureship. Betty is Jack Williamson’s niece and a reporter for the local paper and Patrice was, until this last semester, the President of the College, and between them they’ve been the mainstay of the Lectureship for years.

(A little background: Jack Williamson was one of the forefathers of science fiction, selling his first story in the 1920s and writing all the way through to the 2000s. Along the way, he wrote several classic novels–DARKER THAN YOU THINK, THE HUMANOIDS, and “With Folded Hands”–and his brilliant Hugo-Award-winning autobiography WONDER’S CHILD and coined names for many of the themes of SF, including “psionics,” “terraforming,” and “androids.” He was a Grand Master, had a meteor and a feature on Mars named after him, and served as president of the Science Fiction Writers of America.)

Jack also taught at the university in Portales, Eastern New Mexico University, and endowed a chair for bringing in guest lecturers in science fiction every year, which evolved into the Lectureship and which has hosted an amazing list of lecturers (including six Grand Masters of Science Fiction–seven if you count Jack–and a veritable Who’s Who of Science Fiction and Fantasy–Greg Bear, Harlan Ellison, Fredrik Pohl, James Gunn, Nalo Hopkinson, Walter Jon Williams, George R.R. Martin, Carrie Vaughn, Vic Milan, Jeffe Kennedy, Ian Tregillis, Steven Gould, Melinda Snodgrass, Michael Cassutt, Emily Mah, Edward Bryant, Charles N. Brown, the editor of Locus, and a bunch of others–and many of them have come back again and again.)

This year’s guest of honor was Arkady Martine, and she brought her wife, Vivian Shaw, with her, so we got two guests for one. They were great, and so were the panels, which the Lectureship features. I especially loved the one on Artificial Intelligence, which focused on the new dangers and possibilities of ChatGPT, and one on worldbuilding. I also loved Cordelia’s lecture on a very out-of-the-ordinary experience she had while working at the Santa Clara County Crime lab. Unlike the usual investigation of shoeprints, surveillance tapes, cell phones, etc., she suddenly found herself in a convoy with a SWAT team in L.A., driving a coworker’s car without the lights on in an attempt to arrest a bunch of human traffickers.

On Saturday, I teach a writers’ workshop for the students, although that’s not really accurate because many of the writers come and serve as an expert panel, so it’s really a group effort. This year’s workshop was on story endings, and everybody gave great advice, and then we all adjourned AGAIN to the Do Drop Inn for lunch. (Eating is actually what the Lectureship is all about–we ate at a vineyard and at the Cattle Baron, had a luncheon at the college, ate enchiladas at the house of one of the committee members, had breakfast at the Do Drop Inn, had coffee at the Do Drop Inn, had ice cream at the Do Drop Inn…well, you get the idea.)

It was great! I can’t wait to go next year, and you should come, too. Everybody’s welcome, and it’s so much fun. Since it’s smaller than your normal convention, everybody gets a chance to really know everybody else and the panels and workshop and lectures and speeches are all wonderful! Plus, you can eat the whole way there!

Connie Willis

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Road To Roswell Cover Reveal

From Feb 16, 2023;

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Penguin Random House official page including and excerpt from the book and an audio excerpt.

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