In some tragic news, famed sci-fi author Octavia Butler died over the weekend, a victim of a stroke
at the age of 58. I am not familiar with her work, but she is and was one of Malaya's favorite authors. As the obit says:
Butler's work wasn't preoccupied with robots and ray guns, Howle said, but used the genre's artistic freedom to explore race, poverty, politics, religion and human nature.
"She stands alone for what she did," Howle said. "She was such a beacon and a light in that way."
Fellow Seattle-based science fiction authors Greg Bear and Vonda McIntyre said they were stunned by the news and called it a tremendous loss, and science-fiction Internet sites quickly filled with posts dedicated to her.
"We've lost the most intelligent and capable voice in the genre," one fan wrote. "Octavia was the SciFi I picked up when I realized that there could be more to SciFi/fantasy than simple escapism."
...
Her first novel, "Kindred," came out in 1979. It concerned a black woman who travels back in time to the South to save a white man. She went on to write about a dozen books, plus numerous essays and short stories. Her most recent work, "Fledgling," a reinterpretation of the "Dracula" legend, was published last fall.
She won numerous awards, and in 1995 became the first science fiction writer granted a "genius" award from the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation, which paid $295,000 over five years. She served on the board of the Science Fiction Museum.
Peter Heck, a science fiction and mystery writer in Chestertown, Md., said Butler was recognized for tackling difficult and controversial issues, such as slavery.
"She was considered a cut above both in the quality of her writing and her imaginative audacity," Heck said. "She was willing to take uncomfortable ideas and pursue them further than a lot of other people would have been willing to."
I never blogged about it at the time, but but back in November, around the time we went to
the George R. R. Martin book signing over in SF, we went to an Octavia Butler book signing in Oakland.
I had never read any of her work; I just went to keep Malaya company, and being as it was in a pretty ghetto-area, (we walked past crack sellers on the same block at the African American bookstore) I'm glad I accompanied her. The signing was fine though, and Butler was an interesting speaker and gave some lively answers during the Q&A. Her death, especially while still young enough to write quality work, is a tragedy. Malaya's especially bothered since her last book was clearly the first part in a series, and now we'll never get to read it.
We're not incensed enough to desecrate her grave for it, as we will do to Martin if he dies before finishing
A Song of Ice and Fire, but it's a shame to lose a promising series like this. Fortunately, (or unfortunately) Butler never had any kids, so we can't even look forward to/dread the prospect of some semi-talented offspring rooting through her files and necromantically fleshing out every
rough outline and
half-finished manuscript.
Labels: writing
