Sad news: Angélica Gorodischer, a prolific and award-winning Argentinian author, died on February 5 at age 93. Three of her books are available in English: Kalpa Imperial, translated by Ursula K. LeGuin in 2003; Trafalgar, translated by Amalia Gladhard in 2013; and Prodigies, translated by me in 2015.

After I finished my translation of Prodigies — an enchanted and enchanting novel — she and I exchanged a few emails. She told me she wrote the book almost as a dare. Here’s a translation of a portion of one of those emails:

“Prodigies is a difficult book. It was hard to write. It began as an argument with a colleague. She maintained that it isn’t possible to write a novel contrary to one’s own tastes, one’s own inclinations; against the grain, so to speak. I said that yes, not only could it be done, but from time to time it must be done, or at least it’s healthy to go against one’s own self and write as pure craft. No you can’t, yes you can, it’s impossible, don’t try to kid me, of course it’s possible, and that’s where it stood.

“But I was left on edge and decided that at some point I was going to write a novel, a full and complete novel, to prove what I had argued in that conversation. And sooner rather than later I set about writing Prodigies. And as I told you: it was difficult. It was difficult, but I liked it.”

She added, “I write in order to write, and that makes me happy.” As for me, “I hope that you’re well, you’re happy, and the goddesses are propitious to you.”

May those goddesses carry her gently to her rest.

***

All three of her books translated into English were published by Small Beer Press. At her passing, Gavin Grant, the publisher, wrote about meeting and working with Angélica Gorodisher.

***

Was Prodigies difficult for me to translate? Yes and no. The prose was lush, complex, and beautiful, and I focused on bringing those qualities into English. Each language operates under different “rules” for beauty, and I needed to translate with those differences in mind — difficult, but I liked it, too.

These are the opening words to Prodigies:

            On the day Madame Nashiru arrived at the boarding house on Scheller Street, a brief tremor passed through the house, unnoticed by everyone except Katja. The foundations of the world did not shudder, plagues did not break out, first-born did not die, there were no catastrophes, the waters of the Genil River did not inundate a dozen towns, black death did not arrive at Addis Ababa, the sorcerers of Yauyuos did not dream about dogs with human heads, the walls of Nerja Cave did not crack, ships did not sink in the inlets of Baffin, volcanoes did not erupt, islands did not disappear, orchards did not suffer drought, the lintels of old cathedrals did not become besooted, cemetery guards did not worry needlessly, nor did police officers or transportation inspectors or sergeants or jailors or tax collectors or judges or executioners; but the house shook, and Katja, who was in the courtyard bending over a tin-plate pan, looked at the water and told herself that there are beings with wings and yet they hide them. She did not know what she meant by that, but she was used to those sudden obscure thoughts, so she was not frightened…

Soft and springy: I was born that way, as polyurethane foam should be, a comfort to all, forgiving to those in need of a cushion. I had a noble purpose.

At least, I thought I had a purpose. I thought I knew who I was.

Soon I came under pressure. At first, I sprang back. I could handle it. I was a service to others, and I was proud.

But I had a hidden side, hidden even to myself, a built-in internal stickiness, a limit to my abilities. I could not spring back forever … or even for very long.

Pressure defeated me, left me flat, unyielding, useless. I lost my purpose in the world … and too soon, I will crumble into dust.

Now I can only remember soft days and soothing nights. Apparently, that’s what my name means. Memory foam is merely the memory of foam.

You’ll be able to find me in a variety of places at Capricon 42, a four-day science fiction convention held annually in the Chicagoland area. This year it will be from February 3 to 6 at the Sheraton Grand Chicago Riverwalk hotel downtown — in person with proof of vaccination and a high-quality mask. (Also with a virtual component. See you there, too!)

You can find me on some panels, and I’ll wander through the dealer’s room and art show looking for unique purchases. In the evening, I hope to pop into a few parties to meet old friends and make new ones. If you’re at Capricon, say hello!

My schedule:

How to Moderate Panels, Missouri Room, Friday, 2:00 p.m. Great moderation can make the difference between a mediocre panel and a fantastic one. Janice Gelb, moderator; Sue Burke, Helen Montgomery, Brother Guy Consolmagno.

Writing Serial Fiction, Huron Room, Friday, 6:00 p.m. Serialization has come to dominate many corners of science fiction and fantasy. What unique challenges does it present and how can they be managed or even used to make a work better? Mark Huston, moderator; Bob J. Koester, Kathryn Sullivan, Sue Burke.

Regional/International Fandom, Missouri Room, Saturday, 1:00 p.m. Hear about different fan cultures across North America and throughout the world from fans who live in places outside Chicagoland. Janice Gelb, moderator; Sue Burke, Alexander von Thorn.

We Can (Can We?) Fix Global Warming! Superior Room, Saturday, 2:00 p.m. Geoengineering, large-scale deliberate changes to the atmosphere (etc.) to deal with global warming, is almost a taboo topic in environmental circles, often met with open hostility. What are the possibilities, why are they so unpopular, and can we really avoid needing them? Sue Burke, moderator; Chris Gerrib, Brother Guy Consolmagno.

Whose Hero’s Journey? Erie Room, Saturday, 4:00 p.m. The Hero’s Journey is a storytelling staple. But to what extent does it encode a male point of view? People criticize the protagonists of Mulan and Captain Marvel for being “Mary Sues” who didn’t work to achieve their powers. Men get told to roll up their sleeves and work their way to the top while women have to struggle to be heard and recognized for their contributions. Is the Hero’s Journey fantasy for women about the fight to be acknowledged for the power they already possess? Maria Schrater, moderator; Karen Herkes, Ada Palmer, Sue Burke, Jeana Jorgensen, Michi Trota.

How I Wrote This, Erie Room, Sunday, 12:00 noon. A panel of authors will describe the path of a work of fiction from idea to first draft, second draft, beta reader, more drafts, and finally publication. Where did the idea come from and how did the storytelling take shape? Here’s a chance to look at how inspiration intersects with craft in real life. Maria Schrater, moderator; Sue Burke, Brendan Detzner, John Everson, Cassandra R. Moritz, Chris Gerrib.

If the pandemic has taught us anything, many of its lessons are bitter and involve loss, disappointment, and loneliness. Good memories are few, but here’s one. This is what I wrote in February 2021 about the online version of Capricon, inspired by the poem “To the Fig Tree on 9th and Christian, by Ross Gay.” This year’s Capricon will be held on February 3 to 6, and I’ll be there! More about that in a coming post.

***

Capricon is a Chicago science fiction convention. We come together for four days in February at a hotel convention center, and we call ourselves family, except that in 2021 we did not come.

We met alone together, hundreds of us, with cameras, microphones, and keyboards, and we recreated what we could. Art, games, panels, films, freebies, kid’s activities, the guy in the goat costume, other people in costumes, music, parties — some with DJs — and of course the commemorative tee-shirt. It depicted a goat wearing a face mask.

At a science fiction convention, fans and authors, scientists and singers, costumers and gamers are the same, energized by ideas and self-expression. We gather to share our love for our mutual passions. It’s a tradition. The 2021 Capricon was the forty-first annual event.

With the freedom of non-meatspace we could welcome people from Vietnam, Brazil, Jamaica, Puerto Rico, and thirty-eight states, not just Chicagoland and those who could travel. No hugs, but we enjoyed a wider horizon and intentional inclusion. We had special early hours so distant fans could share their dinner with our breakfast. Two hundred activities were offered to do over a four-day weekend, including bartenders to help you mix your own drinks at home during the evening parties. The box fort got built. Bar Fleet had its discotheque, this time virtual, not in a hotel suite crowded to sweaty capacity.

At a Zoom panel I ran, discussing the power of the short story, we wondered how short a short story could be, and an audience member wrote a three-word story in the chat box: “Hindsight is 2020.” There was a lot to unpack in that, but I just laughed, glad to be looking back.

Our convention had a theme: “Creating the Future We Want.” We talked about the future, and how it was made, both by intention and opportunity. We considered various futures after global warming. With or without police. With or without forgiveness. With enough room for a few grudges to hold their distance. With enough closeness to fill the space with thanks.

We tried so hard to have fun, to give each other fun, to be the family again.

We set out our intentions for the coming year’s convention with the theme of music, and we planned to meet at a hotel already reserved, brick and mortar, flesh and blood. We hoped to have again the future we were working to create. Sing us in, 2022.

I’ve discovered that one more work of mine appeared in 2021, a republication of my translation into English of the short story “Francine (draft for the September lecture)” by Maria Antònia Martí Escayol, at Apex Magazine on December 28. This evocative, haunting story will make you wonder what’s real: after Renée Descartes’s daughter dies, he and his fellow scientists try to bring her back to life using 17th-century science.

As a reminder, here are my works that were first published in 2021 (and eligible for awards):

Immunity Index, a novel, published by Tor (read an excerpt). It’s about a coronavirus epidemic, but a much better one than our own covid-19 — because it’s over at the end of the book. Also, the novel includes a very loveable woolly mammoth.

“Embracing the Movement” by Cristina Jurado, which I translated into English, published in Clarkesworld Magazine’s June 2021 edition. The original short story, “Abrazar el movimiento,” won Spain’s Ignotus Award for Best Short Story 2021, the equivalent of a Hugo Award. The story’s lush prose hides horror.

Two of my short works were republished in 2021:

“Who Won the Battle of Arsia Mons,” a novelette about robots in a fight to the death on Mars, in Clarkesworld Year Twelve: Volume One (Clarkesworld Anthology).

“In the Weeds,” a short story about plants fighting climate change, in Over the Edge Again: The Edgy Writers Anthology. Other members of the Edgy Writers Critique Group shared some thoughts about their stories in these posts: “Sport” by Z Jeffries, and “Wild Heart” by Samuel Durr.