I’ll be at two virtual events this week open to the public:

Science Fiction as Activism: Sharing Futures
Thursday, June 11, 8:25 to 9:45 p.m. (BST)

Over the past eight weeks, science fiction writer, researcher, and pleasure activist Ama Josephine Budge has helmed a voyage with seventeen burgeoning speculative writers as part of Free Word’s season: Finding Power. On June 11, through readings, feedback and conversation, she, the writers, and guests will discuss how imagining and creating futures can shape real selves, societies and change.

I’ll be one of the guests, along with award-winning author Tade Thompson. The general public can join via Zoom (muted and without cameras). Get more information here.

Windy City Romance Writers of America Online Chapter Meeting
Saturday, June 13, 10:00 a.m. to noon

I’ll be speaking about worldbuilding. Romance can take place a long time ago in a galaxy far far away, or in your own home town but with sorcerers. How do you build a speculative world? I may also speak about book translations. I worked on the translation of Twilight into Spanish, and other works from Spanish into English.

If you’re interested in attending as a guest, contact windycityadm@gmail.com.

Read a poem here by Fernando Cuartas, of Medellín, Columbia, along with my translation. It appears in issue 3 of Surreal Poetics.

“…En el talego cabe un mundo, es la calle que habla en medio de la destrucción de un barrio.”
“…A world fits in this duffel, this street that speaks amid a neighborhood’s destruction.”

As you may know, I translated the Spanish medieval novel of chivalry Amadis of Gaul into English. (If you’ve never heard of it, here’s why.)

That project sparked an interest into all things medieval, including cooking, since I love to cook. Here are some medieval Spanish recipes for a simple meal you can make at home. Remember to include bread, olives, and wine on your table to make it authentic.

Rabbit a la medieval

This recipe comes from Toledo. Rabbit is still common in Spanish supermarkets, but you can substitute chicken.

salt to taste
a handful of parsley
two spoons of vinegar
2 or 3 cloves of garlic
olive oil
one rabbit (or chicken), cut in quarters or pieces

Crush the garlic, salt, and parsley in a mortar, and add vinegar and oil to make a paste. Spread over the rabbit, and bake in a 180C/350F oven for about 45 minutes to an hour.

Al-Andalus onions

Note the Moorish influence.

medium-sized onions
saffron
ground cinnamon, nutmeg, or other sweet spices (I recommend ginger)
butter
honey or sugar, if desired

Peel the onions and cut a cross at the root end. Arrange them in a cooking pan next to each other, but not crowded. Sprinkle with salt, saffron, and spices. Cover with water and add a little butter. Cover and cook over a slow fire for about 20 minutes until the onions are tender and the water has evaporated. Uncover, add the honey or sugar, raise the fire, and carefully caramelize the onions.

Almond pudding (Menjar blanc)

This comes from the Llibre de Sent Soví, a 14th-century Catalan cookbook (see photo). Be aware that the almond milk in this recipe may be different from the almond milk you usually find in the supermarket today. You can also substitute a liter/quart of cow milk for the almond milk. Sancho Panza liked chicken breasts with cooked with menjar blanc, according to Don Quixote de la Mancha, Chapter LXII.

400g/2 cups blanched and skinned almonds
1 liter/quart boiling water
1 cinnamon stick
1 piece of lemon peel, yellow part only
200g/1 cup sugar
6 tbsp. rice flour (or cornstarch)

Grind or finely chop the almonds. Place in a bowl and pour boiling water over them, let sit for at least 10 minutes, and pour through a cheesecloth, squeezing it tight. Put in a saucepan, add cinnamon, lemon peel, and sugar. Simmer for a few minutes. Dissolve the flour in a little liquid and add, stirring constantly until thickened, and simmer a few minutes more. Pour into a mold and chill.

Chapter 1 of a novel I’m writing now, Princess Magpie, has been posted at the Decameron Project. I began writing it when I was living in Spain.

Nine hundred years ago, Queen Urraca ruled over the Kingdom of Leon. The novel begins with her betrothal in marriage at age eight and follows her life as she becomes a canny monarch who can sing a song, prevail in a thorny negotiation, and lead an army.

The novel is underway but won’t see print for a while. Chapter 1 will give you a taste, though.

The Decameron Project began on March 16 and posts a new story every day. In its own words:

“This project was inspired by Boccaccio’s Decameron, written shortly after the Black Death hit Florence in 1348, which takes place during that time of plague. In the story, ten young Florentines, seven women and three men, retreat into self-isolation in a villa in the hills and pass the time by telling stories, one each per day for ten days, or a hundred stories.

“The New Decameron was the idea of Maya Chhabra, and is organized by Maya Chhabra, Jo Walton, and Lauren Schiller. Participants include Daniel Abraham, Mike Allen, Leah Bobet, Pamela Dean, Max Gladstone, Rosemary Kirstein, Naomi Kritzer, Marissa Lingen, Usman Malik, Ada Palmer, Laurie Penny, Ellen Kushner, and many others.”

The content at this Patreon project is free and visible to everyone. Enjoy! However, you can become a patron, and the donations are split between the authors and a charity, Cittadini del Mondo, a Rome-based clinic and library for refugees.

A 200-word short story for Mother’s Day — in which I attempt to blow up the motherhood statement.

Who Loved Their Babies More
by Sue Burke

The mosquito landed on the woman’s arm, she slapped it, and it fell dead. But nothing happens so easily.

She had watched it hover, tiger-striped. It landed on insubstantial legs, delicate as a fairy queen. Only females sought blood, and after a blood meal it could lay eggs. The woman considered granting its wish. Even tiny lives mattered.

But she couldn’t. The mosquito might carry a disease — not that it would care, even if it could understand. Its eggs mattered more to it than any human life. Mercy did not fit into the equation for either of them. The woman was pregnant. She had a life to protect, too. She slapped, and the mosquito fell, its long striped legs crushed and tangled.

And yet, she knew that with trillions of mosquitos and billions of humans in the world, this single killing accomplished almost nothing. It proved nothing, not even who loved their babies more. She had the brute advantage this time and she took it, that was all. Next time, who knew?

She eyed the tiny corpse on the ground. Only fools believed that motherhood meant tenderness. Motherhood meant menace. Motherhood made enemies. Mothers would stop at nothing. And she hadn’t even given birth yet.

***

Published in Thema Literary Journal Spring 2003 issue. Theme: paper tigers.