the things you plan for

Wed, 27 Jan 2010 07:30:47 GMT

1.



Anya is now 14 weeks old, or just a smidge over three months. She has gone from an oblivious blob who only eats, sleeps, cries and poops, to a budding consciousness forming connections with the world around her, and discovering how she fits into that world. Who also, still, mostly, eats, sleeps, cries and poops.

It's amazing to watch her get the hang of things, even at this young age. She's figured out how to physically grasp things now, and her favorite toys are those with rings she can grip and then shake the hell out of. Her neck muscles are strong enough to hold her head upright now, and one of her favorite things is sitting up. She's on the cusp of being able to support her own weight on her legs.

She's officially in the middle of a growth spurt at the moment, and her feeding amount has spiked. When she's hungry, all our neighbors know it.

I look at her and I see a beautiful, healthy, happy little girl. What's not as obvious is that she was born with an abnormality that, while treatable, has meant a lot more work than both Janet and I had planned for.

2.



About 20 seconds after Anya was born, the midwife conducted a series of Apgar tests to assess her general health and determine whether she needed any immediate medical attention. (She didn't, thankfully.) Anya was then weighed, wrapped up, and placed under a heat lamp like a quarter-pounder-with-cheese combo meal awaiting order pickup. All during this, I was gently touching her fingers and stroking her head, astonished that I was inexplicably now a father. Afterward, she was brought over for Janet to hold.

Sometime in there (I don't remember exactly when, as the activity after the birth was all a bit of a blur), the midwife ran her pinky finger along the roof of Anya's mouth, and frowned. The surface was rougher than she expected, so after Janet and I spent a bit of time looking and touching and fawning over our new daughter, the midwife took Anya down the hall to the NICU for cleaning up and observation.

Janet and I got settled in her hospital room; they were out of single rooms that first night, so she had to share with a woman who had noisy visitors and kept the TV on all night long, which, added to the pain of childbirth meant she didn't get a lot of sleep that night. On top of this was the news we got before I left to go home.

I'd heard that the pediatrician on duty, Dr Lim, wanted to take a look at Anya before letting her out of the NICU. After waiting and waiting for hours, during which time I tried fruitlessly to comfort Janet after the epidural drugs had worn off, and encourage her to eat something for dinner, I got tired of waiting and walked down to the NICU myself. I found Anya's cot in the corner, and she was sleeping, unclothed but for a diaper, electric leads monitoring her heart rate and other vital functions. She was so tiny and fragile in that moment that I wanted to sob.

I looked up and spied Dr Lim making his way around the room to check on all the babies there. He finally made his way to Anya's cot and I shook his hand. He relayed to me the widwife's worries, and then took out a penlight so he could look inside Anya's mouth. She fussed a bit, but after he examined her, she went straight back to sleep.

"Okay," he said, softly. "You look like a calm and rational gentleman, so I'll just tell this to you straight. Your baby has a cleft palate."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that when her head and face were forming, the tissues on the inside of her mouth didn't close up. This feels like a fairly wide cleft, which basically means that the roof of her mouth, which separates the inside of the mouth from the nasal cavity, is missing."

I can't really remember the physiological effects that the news had on me, but I'm pretty sure that at the very least all the blood drained out of my face. I do recall the doctor putting a gentle hand on my arm, most likely in response to my expression.

"Is she going to be okay?"

Dr Lim smiled and said, "Yes, this is actually a very treatable defect. In about six months to a year, she'll have a surgery to close up the cleft, and once she heals, no one will be able to tell that she ever had a cleft palate in the first place. She's otherwise a very healthy baby."

Dr Lim accompanied me back down the hall to Janet's room, and relayed the news to her. Considering the amount of pain she was in, and the abruptness of the news, she took it well. The doctor added that because of the cleft, Anya wouldn't be able to create suction, and would therefore be unable to breastfeed. Janet could still express breast milk, but it would all have to be delivered to Anya in bottles. I could tell that Janet was disappointed, but although it would mean more work to use the manual pump, Anya could still drink breast milk, although it seemed that the majority of her food would need to come from formula.

(For the rest of our stay in the hospital, Dr Lim came back a number of times to check on us, and his gentle nature and his office's proximity to our flat led us to choose him for Anya's regular pediatrician.)

The next morning after Anya was wheeled in, we were visited by a nurse from the Cleft and Craniofacial Centre (CCRC) at nearby KK Women's and Children's Hospital, to show us the special bottles and teats (both made by Pigeon) that we would need to use to feed Anya. She demonstrated, and then had both Janet and I practice. The teats have a a notch at the top to help guide where it should be placed; the top side is stiffer to help Anya brace it in her mouth, and the bottom side is thinner and more flexible to allow her tongue to pull the liquid out of the bottle. We also had to make sure that the bottle was at a 45 degree angle so that the liquid could be pulled through a plastic regulator.

It was a lot to take in, in addition to learning how to hold Anya and burp her and watch for spit-ups. Cleft palate babies tend to take in more air whilst feeding, so we needed (and still need) to stop one or two times in the middle of a feeding to burp Anya, so that the air wouldn't get trapped in her stomach. The spit-ups were even more harrowing, because of the linkages between nasal passages and ear canals; if fluid went up her nose, there was a good chance it could also get into her ears, and block sounds from fully reaching her eardrums. Persistant fluid build-up could lead to ear infections and possibly affect her speech once she starts learning to talk. So much to worry about, and we'd only been parents for one day.

Sometime during the day, we were moved to a single room (thank the Buddha, it was so much quieter and more spacious), which helped improve our moods. All new parents go through a period of anxiety at the beginning; my biggest worries, being a monster klutz, were holding Anya too tightly and dropping her. But we had a whole other level of worries on top of that. That said, the situation was fixable, and I kept reminding myself that there were many parents out there who had to deal with much bigger obstacles, such as premature birth, or glaucoma, or heart murmurs, or Down's syndrome, or sickle-cell anemia, etc. Anya didn't even have a cleft lip, which is much more visually obvious. Things could have been much more challenging. Remember, remember, over and over.

3.



When Anya was just over a month old, we headed to KK Hospital to meet the head of the CCRC, Dr Vincent Yeow, and to get his assessment of Anya. He told us that her cleft was quite wide, but that it was by no means the most severe one he had seen, and that it would be quite easy to close up with the surgery. In fact, it's quite a routine procedure at this point, and she should recover quickly. We wouldn't find out until later when exactly she'd be having the surgery, although he reiterated that it would be when she was between six months and a year old, and most preferably before she starts (a) learning to talk and (b) eating solid food. Even after the surgery, she'll need to go in to the CCRC on a periodic basis for speech therapy to ensure that she's forming the sounds correctly with her new palate.

A few days prior to the CCRC appointment, we'd taken Anya to the Ear, Nose & Throat (ENT) doctor at KKH, and she failed to pass the hearing test that was given, despite the fact that after she was born she'd passed in both ears. The ENT doc said that in addition to any possible fluid buildup, cleft palate babies also had a harder time equalizing the pressure in their ears (like when you try to make your ears pop when descending in an airplane). This popping is usually aided by sucking during feeding, but she obviously couldn't do this.

We made an appointment for January to test her hearing again, but my heart leapt into my throat once again. If her hearing didn't improve, they'd likely have to surgically implant tubes in her ears to drain the fluid so that she'd be able to hear properly, and they would do it at the same time as the palate surgery so as to minimize the number of times she'd have to go under general anesthesia.

During this time, especially during the first month, Janet and I were struggling in taking care of Anya. Because of the special feeding methods, we couldn't just pass Anya off to anyone else to take care of in case we needed a rest. People would have to be trained up, and be able to keep a lot of information in their head. Plus, it felt like we were constantly washing and sterilizing bottles, and laundry had to be done every other day, and the plants were dying from neglect, and the flat was getting dirtier and dirtier, and we just didn't feel like we were getting the help that we needed.

It was an incredibly trying period, but I have to especially thank Janet's parents for being champions during this time, and since. Janet's father Raymond was over all the time, buying groceries, or putting together IKEA furniture, or cleaning ceiling fans, or fixing lights; basically doing the things that we didn't have the time or energy to do. He helped to feed Anya, and occasionally spent the night to aid in the early morning feedings. If this doesn't tell you what kind of person Raymond is, check out his conversation with Thubten Chonyi after attending a Chenrezing retreat at Sravasti Abbey last year. The man is a bodhissatva on earth, although he'd most likely say that sentiment was nonsense.

Janet's mum Ivy was over almost every day, bringing lunch and dinner either cooked by one of her sisters or bought at the food stalls downstairs. Even though she wasn't able to participate in the feedings, she was excellent at holding Anya afterwards and rocking her to sleep.

When my mom visited in December, she was also wonderful with Anya, helping with the feeding, soothing, bottle-washing, and other daily things that needed doing around the flat. She also talked to Anya quite a lot, letting her hear lots of new words in a calm tone of voice. I still greatly appreciate Mom making the very long trip to stay with us for ten days, and I know Anya enjoyed being with her Yiayia.

But we also needed more regular help. We attempted to hire a live-in confinement nanny, who would basically stay with us for the first month and take care of Anya so that Janet could rest and regain her strength, but the woman that the agency sent over only lasted a day, and barely that. She hardly spoke any English, she didn't write down any instructions, she didn't pay attention when we were telling her how to feed Anya or wash the bottles or do the laundry, and instead spent much of her time sitting in Anya's room staring at the wall. A void, a black hole of a person, and she made everything worse. The following morning, I called the agency, vociferously complained and demanded a full refund; thankfully, I got it, and the nanny was out the door by 9:30 a.m. or so.

The biggest problem then, and one that remains, was sleep. Janet and I were both sleep-deprived trying to negotiate the feeding schedule, and this made us irritable and on edge for days on end. When we got married, we didn't go through the traditional wedding vows (for richer or for poorer, in good times and in bad, etc.), but these were certainly bad times. As before, I kept reminding myself that it would be very rough at the beginning, but as with all things, the situation was impermanent, and it would get better. I would need to weather the crying, and the yelling, and the meltdowns, and the feelings of being unappreciated and unwelcome, and then try to be supportive and loving and steady. It was a real test of our commitment to each other and to this tiny new life that we'd created, but in the end, it was strengthening.

4.



This blog entry has been a long time in coming. I haven't written it before now because, well, we were still dealing with the news ourselves, let alone telling the world about it. But the cleft palate is certainly nothing to be ashamed of (and we aren't), and I've come to appreciate and depend on the community that reads this blog, so I hope you understand.

When I asked Janet if she was okay with me blogging about Anya's cleft palate and all the difficulties that had resulted from it, she was a bit worried that we were "outing" Anya early, especially since in a year from now, no one will be able to tell that the roof of her mouth wasn't always there. But I feel that talking about what we've gone through will enable further conversation with other cleft palate parents in sharing experiences and tips and commiseration.

We certainly didn't plan for this eventuality, but that's life for you. You accept the situation and you move on.

And I'm thankful every day that this is the only major hurdle that Anya will need to deal with for right now, that her situation is easy to remedy, that we live so close to such a kind pediatrician, that we're only a short drive away from a government hospital that specializes in Anya's condition, that Anya has such loving grandparents on both sides of her family. That health care here in Singapore is so affordable, that I work in a well-paid teaching job, and that we can get by comfortably right now on just my salary. That we have a cleaning lady come by once a week to do a good job making the flat free of dirt.

I'm also very thankful that on this past Saturday, Anya's hearing was tested again at the ENT, and she passed in her left ear. (Yay!) Her right ear was inconclusive, and she may not have passed because of either fluid or wax buildup. Still, hopeful news. We'll test her again in six weeks, and if she passes in both ears, they won't have to implant the tubes.

As well, I'm thankful that we've discovered the source of her current ultra-crankiness: not enough sleep. After the last visit to the ENT, we stopped in to a bookshop on the bottom floor of the hospital, and Janet found a book on fussy babies which detailed the causes and strategies to deal with fussiness. We've had to make sure Anya takes more naps during the day, and does so in a quiet environment (which is tough in urban Singapore). It's been a big adjustment for her, and the last few days have been nightmarish, but as of late last night her feeding has gotten better, and she seems more rested now.

But mostly I'm thankful for the precious gift of Anya herself, who already makes me laugh at unexpected moments and encourages me through her very existence to be a better father, a better husband, a better human being.

hero worship, or how i met the dream king

Sun, 24 Jan 2010 11:24:15 GMT

The queue stretched a thousand people down past The Arts House all the way to the Singapore River. Each person clutched a precious text: a book, or a graphic novel, or single issues of comics; some hardy souls even carried the massive Absolute editions of his collected works. It was a response the organizers of the festival had not been prepared for, and still seemed somewhat baffled by. And at the very front of the queue, behind a plywood table, sat a literary rock star, the Dream King himself, signing autographs.

I stood to the side of the table, trying in vain to catch his attention; he was wholly and utterly concentrating on the task at hand, giving each person in line his undivided attention for several precious moments before moving on to the next. His enthusiasts knew well of his patience, his kindness, his endurance, his appreciation. A sense of lightness and festivity filled the air as they stood patiently, waiting for their thirty seconds of audience with the master.

The Dream King and I had traded direct messages on Twitter weeks and months earlier, hoping to negotiate a time to meet during his brief stay in the Lion City. But despite both our efforts, the festival organizers seemed to thwart every attempt, rushing him to and fro and barring any previously-unapproved communication. Luckily, a reader of this blog recognized me, and put me in contact with the owner of G&B Comics, one of the festival sponsors who had specifically organized to bring the King in, and all of a sudden I was being motioned over to the plywood table to shake his hand.

"Hello!"

"Hullo," he said, a bit dazed, but smiling. His bottom teeth were slightly crooked, an unexpected detail. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, a weariness in his movements; he'd flown a very long way to participate in the festival, and was jetting off again the following day.

He didn't seem to recognize me so I gave him my name.

"I know who you are," he said. "I recognize you from your photo."

After some brief small talk, I thanked him for making the long voyage, and expressed appreciation at getting to take a few moments of his time. He mentioned looking forward to my tweets (to which I smiled and blushed), and wished me luck with the colicky newborn waiting for me at home. It occurred to me then that he still gripped my hand in a shake that had lasted several minutes, that we weren't so much shaking anymore as we were holding hands, and that I really didn't seem to mind.

He thanked me for the copies of A Field Guide to Surreal Botany I had dropped off the day before; he had looked through his copy that night and remarked to me now on the premise and the gorgeous illustrations and book design. A Beautiful Thing, and worthy of recognition. He hadn't yet told The Dresden Doll about her copy, as he had just placed it in her suitcase, but he would later that day.

Then he pulled me close and said, "I want to try something. Hang on a moment."

The Dream King closed his eyes and let all his facial muscles relax, and an expression of serenity seemed to spread throughout his body. The air around his dark clothes shimmered, and a low vibration traveled up my arm and into my body, to settle in my stomach. Staticky hissing filled my ears and intensified to nigh unbearable levels, and then just as abruptly stopped.

It was completely quiet. The noises of the thousand-plus people milling around the area had utterly been silenced. I wondered if I had gone deaf. But then I looked around. Each person was frozen in place, caught in amber as it were. The Dream King had stopped time.

He opened his eyes and looked down the queue, then turned back to me. "Wonderful," he said, smiling brightly. "I had no idea if that would work."

"How have you done this?"

"An old man in a shack in Guangzhou taught me how, in exchange for a copy of Sandman #74. It was the last issue he needed to complete his collection. Funny. He didn't even want it signed."

"Um. Okay."

"I want to apologize for not being able to take more time with you. Grateful as I am for this career and this wonderful life of mine, it does mean I'm stretched quite thin. However, we do have a few minutes to ourselves now."

"Can you show me the Secret Handshake?" I asked, half in jest.

He smiled and said, "Of course. You won't remember it by tomorrow anyway, but still."

And so he showed me the Secret Handshake, and How to Talk to Cats, and Which Sushi Increases the Flow of Qi, and Which Shade of Black is Repellent to the Elder Gods. In more ways than one, it was magical. One of my literary heroes was sharing his hidden knowledge, despite his exhaustion and his commitments. And he was right, I remembered none of it the following day except for the fact the he had shown these Mysteries to me.

Finally, he said, "Think it's time we returned to the real world?" and then he let go of my hand. Sounds and motion rushed in as time resumed, and I had to grip the table as the accompanying dizziness unsettled me. I took a breath and looked up. The Dream King glowed, and I smiled.

"Thanks so much, Neil."

"You're very welcome. My best to your wife and baby daughter."

And then he turned back to the queueing hordes and resumed his duties.

new fiction: shiftless, hopeless

Sat, 23 Jan 2010 14:17:36 GMT

My latest contribution to The Daily Cabal went up yesterday, called "Shiftless, Hopeless." The advantage of posting on a Friday means that the story's on the main site page for the whole weekend, so give it a looksee if you have a spare moment.

Continuing the Looking Downward series started by "Mini Buddha Jump Over the Wall," "The World, Under," "Androcles Again," and "Look Into My Eyes, You're Under."

I've had the idea for Mister Shiftless and Mister Hopeless for about ten years, ever since I picked up a copy of Brian Froud's Good Faeries, Bad Faeries in the late 90s. Among all the different types of faeries he lushly illustrates and describes is this pair of sinister looking amorphous dark blobs, with "Mister" in front of their names (I believe, the only faeries he includes with such a title, iirc). This immediately put me in mind of Mister Croup and Mister Vandemar from Neil Gaiman's BBC series cum excellent novel Neverwhere, and criminalistic duos. My two Misters are similar in that the smaller one is more talkative than the larger one, but on the other hand they're both quite dim. As Looking Downward continues, you'll be seeing lots more of them. (They even make a very small cameo in the Tower novel.)

Oh, and in case you were wondering, yes, next month's installment will be all about the Cave of Endless Hamsters. :)

As before, I'm disabling comments here to encourage discussion on the story page. If you feel motivated to comment on the story, whether you loved it or hated it, please do so there. And if you did like the story, please do spread the word.

Enjoy!

from the keyboard of patton oswalt

Sat, 02 Jan 2010 08:31:50 GMT

Wise words from one of my favorite comedians:

"Those Who Can, Do. Those Who Can't, Teach."

Bullshit.

Yes, there are shitty teachers. There are unimaginative, by-rote educators who take no joy in their profession. Maybe they went in full of idealism and energy and got beaten down. Maybe they never had it. Yes, they exist.

But the bulk of teachers -- at least, the ones I've encountered in my life -- teach because they are truly passionate about a subject, concept or discipline. They don't take any pleasure in the amassing of property or finance. I know that must sound like low-grade insanity, especially these days. They want to keep kicking open new rooms and dusting off windows in their minds and souls. They get a truly endorph-ic lift from delving deeper and deeper into something -- an author, an epoch, a science -- within which they perceive a teasing glimmer of the infinite.

And since there's only so much someone can read about a subject or person or book or piece of music, they create new strategies for revelation. One of the surest is to see the thing they love through untrained, un-biased eyes. In other words, students. Semester after semester, year after year, sometimes generation after generation, they watch how the changing world warps, diminishes, or builds up this thing they've become obsessed with.

2009 books read

Thu, 31 Dec 2009 07:27:36 GMT

It's astonishing to me that today is New Year's Eve Day; this holiday has gone by far to quickly. If they show the fireworks on TV tonight, we'll probably watch that, but otherwise Janet and I (and Anya) have no plans.

I've seen some folks doing Year-in-Review posts, but I don't really have the time or energy to do one myself. The biggest thing that happened this year was Anya's arrival into the world, and anything else that might have happened personally pales in importance.

However, I have made a tradition of posting the books I've read each year, and will do so here. The list is provided sans commentary, although I will say that books I've bothered both to pick up and to finish are ones that I consider worth reading. And I would ask that if mention of the books below strikes your fancy, please consider picking them up through IndieBound and supporting your local independent bookstores.

2009 Books Read:

01. *The Ghost in Love* by Jonathan Carroll
02. *Locke & Key, Vol. 1: Welcome to Lovecraft* by Joe Hill & Gabriel Rodriguez
03. *Y: The Last Man, Vol. 4: Safeword* by Brian K. Vaughan & Pia Guerra
04. *Y: The Last Man, Vol. 5: Ring of Truth* by Brian K. Vaughan & Pia Guerra
05. *Order 66* by Karen Traviss
06. *Abe Sapien, Vol. 1: The Drowning* by Mike Mignola & Jason Shawn Alexander
07. *Y: The Last Man, Vol. 6: Girl on Girl* by Brian K. Vaughan, Goran Sudzuka & Pia Guerra
08. *Little Ironies: Stories of Singapore* by Catherine Lim
09. *The Boat* by Nam Le
10. *Being Written* by William Conescu
11. *Y: The Last Man, Vol. 7: Paper Dolls* by Brian K. Vaughan & Pia Guerra
12. *Y: The Last Man, Vol. 8: Kimono Dragons* by Brian K. Vaughan & Pia Guerra
13. *Y: The Last Man, Vol. 9: Motherland* by Brian K. Vaughan & Pia Guerra
14. *Y: The Last Man, Vol. 10: Whys and Wherefores* by Brian K. Vaughan & Pia Guerra
15. *Nothing But the Truth* by Avi
16. *The Arrival* by Shaun Tan
17. *The Dog of the Marriage* by Amy Hempel
18. *Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Season 8), Vol. 3: Wolves at the Gate* by Joss Whedon et al.
19. *To Kill a Mockingbird* by Harper Lee
20. *Tales From Outer Suburbia* by Shaun Tan
21. *Tomorrow Now: Envisioning the Next Fifty Years* by Bruce Sterling
22. *When You Are Engulfed in Flames* by David Sedaris
23. *Secret Son* by Laila Lalami
24. *X-Men: Fairy Tales* by C. B. Cebulski, Sana Takeda, et al.
25. *Superman for All Seasons* by Jeph Loeb & Tim Sale
26. *The Woman Who Thought She Was a Planet and other stories* by Vandana Singh
27. *The Bloke's Guide To Pregnancy* by Jon Smith
28. *Lord of the Flies* by William Golding
29. *Welcome to Hoxford* by Ben Templesmith
30. *Merv Pumpkinhead: Agent of D.R.E.A.M.* by Bill Willingham, Mark Buckingham et al.
31. *The Maxx* by Sam Keith
32. *AIR, Vol. 1: Letters from Lost Countries* by G. Willow Wilson & M.K. Perker
33. *A Public Space* no. 7 (journal)
34. *Always* by Nicola Griffith
35. *The Motorcycle Diaries* by Ernesto "Che" Guevara
36. *Spook Country* by William Gibson
37. *Buddha: A Story of Enlightenment* by Deepak Chopra
38. *Ten Short Stories* by Roald Dahl
39. *Lions in Winter* by Wena Poon
40. *Unaccustomed Earth* by Jhumpa Lahiri
41. *Hellboy II: The Art of the Movie* by Guillermo del Toro, Mike Mignola, et al.
42. *Last Evenings on Earth* by Roberto Bolaño
43. *Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Season 8), Vol. 4: Time of Your Life* by Joss Whedon et al.
44. *Micro Fiction: An Anthology of Really Short Stories* ed. by Jerome Stern
45. *I Hate Other People's Kids* by Adrianne Frost
46. *Exploring the Matrix* ed. by Karen Haber
47. *Below: Absence* by Cyril Wong
48. *Unmarked Treasure* by Cyril Wong
49. *Like A Seed with its Singular Purpose* by Cyril Wong
50. *Tilting Our Plates to Catch the Light* by Cyril Wong
51. *Flash Fiction: Very Short Stories* ed. by James Thomas, Denise Thomas & Tom Hazuka
52. *Spell Games* by T.A. Pratt
53. *After Dark* by Haruki Murakami
54. *Norse Code* by Greg van Eekhout
55. *Of Love and Other Monsters* by Vandana Singh
56. *Younguncle Comes to Town* by Vandana Singh
57. *Bone, Vol. 1: Out from Boneville* by Jeff Smith
58. *House of M* by Brian Michael Bendis, Olivier Coipel et al.
59. *Be My Baby: On the Road to Fatherhood* by Neil Humphreys
60. *Bone, Vol. 2: The Great Cow Race* by Jeff Smith
61. *Younguncle in the Himalayas* by Vandana Singh
62. *The Filth* by Grant Morrison et al.
63. *Emily of Emerald Hill* by Stella Kon
64. *Distances* by Vandana Singh
65. *Bone, Vol. 3: Eyes of the Storm* by Jeff Smith
66. *Bone: Stupid Stupid Rat-Tails (The Adventures of Big Johnson Bone, Frontier Hero)* by Jeff Smith, Tom Sniegoski et al.
67. *Bone, Vol. 4: The Dragonslayer* by Jeff Smith
68. *Bone, Vol. 5: Rock Jaw, Master of the Eastern Border* by Jeff Smith
69. *Bone, Vol. 6: Old Man's Cave* by Jeff Smith
70. *Bone, Vol. 7: Ghost Circles* by Jeff Smith
71. *O Singapore! Stories in Celebration* by Catherine Lim
72. *The Sandman Presents: Love Street* by Peter Hogan, Michael Zulli et al.
73. *Blueberry Girl* by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess
74. *The Dangeous Alphabet* by Neil Gaiman and Gris Grimly
75. *Futurama: The Time Bender Trilogy* by Ian Boothby, James Lloyd, & John Delaney
76. *Rose* by Jeff Smith and Charles Vess
77. *Cyberabad Days* by Ian McDonald
78. *Eternals* by Neil Gaiman and John Romita, Jr.
79. *Brasyl* by Ian McDonald
80. *Memories of My Melancholy Whores* by Gabriel García Márquez
81. *Netherland* by Joseph O'Neill
82. *Books, Baguettes and Bedbugs: The Left Bank World of Shakespeare and Co.* by Jeremy Mercer
83. *The Sacred Book of the Werewolf* by Victor Pelevin
84. *Let Me Tell You Something About That Night* by Cyril Wong
85. *What I Talk About When I Talk About Running* by Haruki Murakami
86. *Prince of Stories: The Many Worlds of Neil Gaiman* by Hank Wagner, Christopher Golden, and Stephen R. Bissette
87. *Ubik: The Screenplay* by Philip K. Dick
88. *Oracle Night* by Paul Auster
89. *The City & the City* by China Miéville
90. *The Blue Lantern* by Victor Pelevin
91. *Watchmen: The Film Companion* by Peter Aperlo
92. *Where's My Cow?* by Terry Pratchett & Melvyn Grant
93. *The Book Thief* by Markus Zusak
94. *DadLabs Guide to Fatherhood: Pregnancy and Year One* by Clay Nichols et al.
95. *Desolation Jones* by Warren Ellis and J.H. Williams III
96. *Omon Ra* by Victor Pelevin
97. *Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Season 8), Vol. 5: Predators and Prey* by Joss Whedon et al.
98. *Babylon* by Victor Pelevin
99. *The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms* by N.K. Jemisin
100. *The Proper Care of Foxes* by Wena Poon
101. *The Last Lecture* by Randy Pausch & Jeffrey Zaslow
102. *Liar* by Justine Larbalestier
103. *The Life of Insects* by Victor Pelevin
104. *Shades of Grey* by Lewis Shiner (chapbook)
105. *Collected Stories* by Lewis Shiner

Previously: 2008 Books Read, 2007 Books Read, 2006 Books Read

new fiction: look into my eyes, you're under

Wed, 30 Dec 2009 09:20:57 GMT

My latest contribution to The Daily Cabal went up yesterday, called "Look Into My Eyes, You're Under."

Continuing the Looking Downward series started by "Mini Buddha Jump Over the Wall," "The World, Under" and "Androcles Again."

No story notes for this one. I'm going to let it stand on its own.

As before, I'm disabling comments here to encourage discussion on the story page. If you feel motivated to comment on the story, whether you loved it or hated it, please do so there. And if you did like the story, please do spread the word.

Enjoy!