I recently got into a debate with someone over the legitimacy of the noun 'gynoid.' Although the debate ended swiftly when the other party asserted that the mere action of being listed in a dictionary does not make a word a 'real' part of language, I did, in the course of things, find myself irked that I was not personally familiar with the book responsible for introducing this usage of 'gynoid.' I spend a lot of time ruminating on how human gender translates into the artificial realm, so this was surely a rather grave oversight.

Well, no longer. Allow me to relate my impressions of Divine Endurance, its philosophy, and how its values have weathered in the 33 years since its publication.  […]

He had always been fond of flying animals. They made the long, hot days out on the raft more interesting, especially around noon when the glade was mostly quiet. Once he had befriended a raven—loosely speaking—by feeding it some of the undergrown crayfish he caught that he knew wouldn’t sell well at market. Its personality was much different from the usual bat-winged tigvi kept by rich women in the cities; less capricious, more patient. Admirable, in its own way. It had vanished a few days later, but not before returning the favour by depositing a clutch of worms directly into his tackle box as it flew off. How he envied its freedom. […]

Failures, summarized:

Klingons—

- Needless Klingon redesign. They're not Drow. Stop making them wear Lolth gear. Somehow the Vulcans survived unscathed, showing that, no, it wasn't a 'let's have plausibly alien aliens' thing.
- Useless Bat'leth. The Discovery version can't be used to parry or disarm the opponent, and provides no protection for the fingers. No one thought this through.
- T'Kuvma continues to talk after his upper spine is severed.
[…]

It's easy to identify similarities between the Hatelese Commonwealth and Iain Banks's Culture. In a way, I intended for the Commonwealth to be a small echo of the Culture, an excuse to write Culture fan-fiction in the Thessian context. But the Hatel are not quite the same as their Banksian forerunners; they have very few alien members, looser moral standards, and a stronger legal system, rather than the taboos of the Culture. The following is an analysis of the differences and the similarities.  […]

With a recent effort to re-planetize Pluto by reclassifying dwarf planets as planets, I'm reminded of the most frequently stated preferred outcome of those opposed to Pluto's demotion: keep it a planet, for old times' sake (even though those 'old times' lasted all of about a century and are the same sort of blatant nostalgia that keeps Christmas music frozen in time), and leave the rest as dwarves. Let's run with that for a moment—make an exception. What's the worst that could happen? Friends, consider the pre-Julian Calendar. […]

From preparations for a more complete collection of Lilitic authors' journal notes; an eclectic heap of various musings, observations, and thoughts generated by these important figures without reserve.

Reséa's writing is generally florid, patient, and positivist. She made a decision in the wake of the extinction that she would be a rallying voice for her people, so as a general rule she has not strayed from that. This sharply contrasts her pre-catastrophe writing, which was (if professional) strict and compliant, or (if not) nihilistic and pondering. The Vendashro is chiefly the story of the coming of age of Reséa, Gleméa, Haplenía, and other key figures of the early Lilitai, and their transformation from critical children into adults. This is reflected in her writing; the beginning of the document shows her antisocial considerations, but it quickly evolves into an optimistic, populist rhetoric. […]

Íora Chúkotía was never really a happy person, excepting perhaps when she was drunk and had nowhere to be the next day. In every major literary canon, there are stripes of authors, of either sex, who suffer from the terrible affliction of self-destructive alcoholism. There were few other Lilitai who coped so poorly and yet maintained careers of such significance, largely due to the availability of ready and superior therapies that became available after contact with humans.

Well-known are the surface details of Íora's late, lonely days and her reputedly awful fortunes at the game of love, Dzhemesselía. Less has been said about Íora's deep and protracted struggles with regret, anxiety, and at times, neurosis. […]

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For all its unbearableness during the torturous heat of day, Tévopío was beautiful by night. It had been the capital city for most of the twenty-two millennia since the great prophet Oksresko had died, giving the Ksreskézaian Empire his equally great name, and every few generations it would become fashionable in the eyes of the noblefolk to decorate the city yet further with new public works and spectacles, as if to dangle their power in front of rival Wemno, on the Eastern continent. The Wemnians, for their part, were a mighty folk, and what I have been told of their city suggests it was little less heavily-beautified; elsewise, I doubt wemnekía would be our word for audacity.

It was sundown now; we had spent most of the late afternoon helping Dzetzo resolve a paper jam that transpired almost the moment he agreed to assist us. I was unsure at first of why he was so willing to drop his work and go with us, but the presence of both his sons suggested it might have been a matter of ancestral respect. A number of poorer but respectable families kept small reliquaries in tribute to their heritage in alcoves inside the Archive; the wealthier tended to keep such things on their own property if they could afford the necessary rites to consecrate a chamber or garden. In a way, many of them respected the timeless grip of their gardens almost as much as we do.

So I was poring over some of the output from NaNoGenMo 2015 and came across the frustrating realization that none of the stories presented (or at least those I read) had much of anything to do with stories of actual substance: the most ambitious aimed to mimic the narrative structure of an adventure without anything in the way of an underlying theme or message being developed. So that sucks. […]

Iain Banks's Culture series has been a persistent influence in many respects, and as one of its defining characteristics is how machine sentience is manifested and explored, it is hard to avoid these topics in the context of Thet, a setting already laden with rebellious exoskeleton suits and various transhumanist notions. So, without ado, a comparison of ship psyches from different civilizations. […]