On Climate in Life, Science, and Fantasy

I must admit, I've discovered over the last few years that January is a difficult month for me. The joy and companionship of the holidays seems to crash too quickly into unremarkable routine. The cold days of a northern winter demand isolation from the world outside with heavy coats and thick sweaters; the nights are long, and altogether too quiet.

My dislike of January is exacerbated by the absence of my husband, who, like many migratory creatures, heads south for the winter to spend the coldest weeks of the year with his family in the much more amenable climate of the tropics. I would gladly go with him if I could, but the academic calendar demands I stay in a place where trees lose their leaves and all the truly smart animals hibernate.

Still, we are three days into the new semester, and it is looking to be a good one.  Today, I ran my first ever environmental science lab at Avila University.  We simulated aspects of global climate mechanisms, and got to play with all kinds of fun toys like inflatable globes (I was very impressed that the class did not immediately disintegrate into a game of beach ball) and vials filled with convection fluids (which inspired multiple comparisons to lava lamps, and one request to search for "lava lamp" on YouTube so that students who had never seen one would know what that is).

Climate mechanisms have been on my mind for other reasons as well. 

A few days ago, for example, I sat down to sketch out my first map of Selenia's world (from Creatures of Light).  I've always had a vague idea of the location of her home city Talagna relative to other places of interest, such as the coastal city of Al'Panura and the jungle river of Ornoco.  Recently, I've decided to insert a high mountain range (something on the order of the Andes), with accompanying paramos and deserts.  Someday I'd like to take Selenia to all these places (although as you may know, it's going to be tough to get her across the sea alive, since women in her world are routinely thrown overboard to appease the sea god Mikrotus, but I'll cross that bridge -- or plunge into those depths -- when I get there). 

Part of building my dream of Selenia's voyage was manifested by drawing the map, and in drawing the map I had to think, once again, about latitudes, wind currents, land and water masses, and everything else that goes into climate.  It's a really fun puzzle to play with. 

One of my most popular posts of all time -- indeed, THE most popular post until this past fall, when my short piece on Hypatia went viral -- was Biogeography and Fantasy, published in July of 2011.  This post was inspired as I was trying to figure out the logic of the climate of Westeros, the stage upon which George RR Martin's A Game of Thrones plays out.  I extended the discussion to take into account various factors fantasy authors should keep in mind when building their worlds.  If you'd like to read more, you can visit the post here.

And just out of curiosity, here are a few questions you might like to comment on:

When you think about what you've read, what worlds come to mind that are particularly well articulated in terms of climate, geography, and distribution of resources?  Is it clear when some authors have put a lot of thought into this, and others have not?  Is it even necessary to get as geeky-obsessive as I do when laying out mountain ranges and major bodies of water?  All perspectives are welcome.  I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts.

In other news, this week on Heroines of Fantasy, Mark Nelson has written a wonderful post on the power of play.  Read his thoughts and share yours, as we venture into the New Year remembering the importance of the lighter side of life. 

Winter Has Come

We had a mild winter this year in Kansas City; too many warm days, not a single memorable snow storm or ice storm.  Perhaps I should not complain, and while I was taking my winter walks through the parks I did not, but now with spring temperatures already pushing into the 80s (upper 20s, for those of you living outside the US), I wish that winter had been a little more insistent with its icy grip.  And that summer were not pounding on the door so aggressively, and so soon.

This is one of many reasons I'm grateful for places of the imagination like Westeros, where winter is always on the way.  And why it was especially refreshing to see all my favorite characters return to the TV screen last night, when HBO premiered the second season of George RR Martin's A Game of Thrones.  Many of them were suffering warmer climes, like me, but others were wrapped in capes and furs, with frost on their breath.  I could almost feel the chill in the air (or was that just the weekend flu I had getting into my bones?).

Well, I have sung Martin's praises many times on this blog already, so I won't get started again today, except to say Thank you, Lord Martin, for this wonderfully rich world of imagination that you've shared with us, in words and now in images.  Thank you for spicing our summers with a little bit of wintry adventure.  

I am so looking forward to every episode of season 2.

Those of you who are longing for an escape from the winter cruelties of Westeros should check out Heroines of Fantasy this week, where Terri-Lynne DeFino tells us all about paradise.

And if you or a friend are need of magic and adventure at an affordable price, check out Hadley Rille Books ebook sale, which started last weekend and will probably end today.  Kindle and Nook editions of all their titles are available for just $0.99.  You can browse HRB's ebook titles at their website, or order Eolyn direct from Amazon. 

High Maga, the companion novel to Eolyn topped 105K last week, and I have a working outline now for the remaining chapters, which I think will require 25-30K to complete.  So, we are getting close.  Of course, the final stretch is always the longest.  You'll be hearing more about it in upcoming posts.

Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you are in for a wintry week.

On Feminism and Fantasy

Some who have read the book, or at any rate have reviewed it, have found it boring, absurd, or contemptible; and I have no cause to complain, since I have similar opinions of their works, or of the kinds of writing that they evidently prefer.
– J.R.R. Tolkien, in reference to criticisms of The Lord of the Rings


Over at Heroines of Fantasy this week, our guest is Athena Andreadis, prolific writer of fiction and non-fiction, and author of the blog Starship Reckless.

I will be honest: Andreadis’ guest post is difficult to understand, but thought-provoking in its own way. Before you read it (or after), I would suggest visiting the blogs of Leo Grin and Joe Abercrombie. This because what Andreadis writes is essentially a criticism of the argument between Grin and Abercrombie, so to get a more-or-less full picture of the conflict, you may need to read all three posts.

Andreadis’ thought-provoking post on Heroines of Fantasy has had me. . .well, provoked in my thought.

Her primary criticism of Grin and Abercrombie focuses on the utter lack of women authors mentioned in their debate. A fair enough point, though I can’t help but think, with all due respect to Grin and Abercrombie, that in the end they are just a couple of guys (in the same way that I am just one gal), and that perhaps these two blog posts are not entirely representative of the full spectrum of dialogue on contemporary fantasy fiction.

But what really does not sit right with me is how Andreadis uses her displeasure with Grin and Abercrombie as a point of departure to discredit male writers of fantasy across the board. In her guest post, Andreadis portrays male fantasy authors as universally misogynistic, and argues that men offer little of interest to the genre as a whole. Her list of authors producing “bland [sexist] gruel” includes well-known and much admired names like J.R.R. Tolkien and George R.R. Martin, both of whom have produced novels that in my humble opinion deserve a somewhat more complimentary qualifier than “bland [sexist] gruel”.

So I don’t think I can follow Andreadis down this particular road, though her commentary does have me thinking about women writers, women protagonists and feminism in the context of fantasy in general.

Having worked as a scientist for more than twenty years, and taught a few of my own courses on women and science, I am not new to feminist discourse. The different schools of feminist thought provide some very powerful tools to help decipher the social constructs that characterize our culture and history. Unfortunately, a feminist analysis of any discipline is an immense topic that cannot be squeezed into a single blog post, and feminism in fantasy is no exception.

Still, as I’ve ventured into the professional world of fantastic literature, I’ve noticed on the one hand, that certain barriers that exist for women in science are also faced by women in fantasy. That if you ask a reader to mention his or her favorite authors, women will almost invariably be in the minority. That stories featuring female protagonists are often perceived as “girl stories”, while stories featuring male protagonists are acceptable reading for everyone.

So it would seem, from this and other less anecdotal evidence, that sexism is alive and well in the field, and that those of us who boast feminist sensibilities have our work cut out for us.

On the other hand, I have had the pleasure of reading a rich variety of fantasy stories about women, written by both women and men. I have met and interacted with a long string of fantasy authors and editors, men and women, who are invariably excited about female protagonists and the crafting of ever more complex roles for the women in our stories.  I've noticed that on the blog Heroines of Fantasy, which often has an overtly feminist tone, our most consistent and enthusiastic commentators have been men.

And when I explore the topic of feminism in fantasy literature, I come across compelling quotes like this one from scholar Elyce Rae Helford:

Science fiction and fantasy serve as important vehicles for feminist thought, particularly as bridges between theory and practice. No other genres so actively invite representations of the ultimate goals of feminism: worlds free of sexism, worlds in which women's contributions (to science) are recognized and valued, worlds in which the diversity of women's desire and sexuality is honored, and worlds that move beyond gender.

So which is it?

Fantasy as a traditionally misogynistic endeavor where only the boys can play, or

Fantasy as the genre that actively promotes the goals of feminism like no other?

At this point in my journey with fantasy, I would say, six of one, half a dozen of the other.

I often claim to write in the tradition of J.R.R. Tolkien and George R.R. Martin. That’s probably a little egotistical on my part, but these are two authors among many (including many women) whose work I greatly admire and try to emulate, albeit through a strong manifestation of my own voice and vision.

I know, just like every other woman who has read Tolkien, that his reknowned epic is characterized by a glaring absence of prominent female characters. And while Martin’s world has more to offer in terms of women players, I – like many other readers – have had my complaints about the way he writes his women.

But does that mean I must then denigrate these and other male authors who have committed similar “crimes” as writers of hopelessly bland sexist gruel?

Or can I respect and learn from their legacy, even as I forge a new future for the women of my own stories?

I have, of course, already answered these questions for myself.

Now I invite you to answer them as well.


You may also wish to see my previous post on Women, Epic Fantasy and George R.R. Martin.

The Ecological Context of Eolyn's World

I need to start this post by correcting an error from last week.  In my July 30 post, I referred to the Wall in Westeros as having a location near a "polar latitude". One of the blog's readers brought to my attention that this was a rather careless statement; though unfortunately blogger didn't let him post the comment.  (By the way, I've had a few complaints lately about not being able to post comments on blogger.  If you have also had problems with this, please let me know at eolyn.of.the.south.woods(at)gmail.com.)

My use of 'polar' in this context stemmed from my habit of thinking of the planet as divided into six latitudinal regions defined by atmospheric circulation (blame it on my training as an ecologist).  North of the equator, we have three of these regions: a belt of northeast trade winds (from 0N to about 30N), a belt of temperate westerlies (from about 30N to 60N), and the belt of polar easterlies (from about 60N to the north pole). 

I've lapsed into the habit of calling this third region of polar easterlies 'polar', which is not an entirely accurate, and can lend to additional confusion when one takes into account that the Arctic Circle itself (what most people would probably call 'polar') is defined not by wind patterns but by the southern extremity of the 24-hour polar day.  The southern limit of the Arctic Circle is at about 66N.

So, all this to say, what I should have written last week is that the Wall, as I see it, is probably located somewhere around the earth equivalent of 60N. This seems to be more or less in agreement with what other folks who are better informed than I regarding Martin lore have concluded.  My apologies for any confusion my last post might have generated.

Now, back to the map of Moisehén...

This is a really good time for me to be thinking about maps.  I have been working for about a year now on the sequel to EOLYN, and just as our own world becomes bigger as we move through life, so Eolyn's world has grown in the second book to include kingdoms outside of Moisehén. Of course, I have always had a pretty solid idea as to where Moisehén fits in the context of the surrounding regions of Roenfyn, Galia, Antaria, the Paramen Mountains and the High Plains of the Syrnte, but reaffirming the details of climate and topography has been a very useful exercise for me.

Moisehén, as I've mentioned elsewhere, is a land-locked country that receives humid westerly winds, with water vapor coming not only from an ocean to the west, but also from a large inland sea known as the Sea of Rabeln.  The region also receives the influence of the equivalent of a 'Gulf Stream'.  (As a small aside, that means somewhere waaaay to the south west of the continent, there must be a structure similar to the isthmus of Central America, which upon its formation some 5-6 million years ago, generated the Gulf Stream, with significant impacts on the climate of Europe.)

a map of the Gulf Stream

The interior mountains of the continent, including the Paramen Mountains and the Eastern Surmaeg, are high, non-volcanic ranges.  But to the west and southwest of Moisehén, on the other side of Roenfyn, we have the Kingdom of Galia, a place of lordly wizards who for generations have intermarried with the Magas of Moisehen.  Galia is a coastal country with a volcanic mountain range.  In the novel EOLYN, we never visit Galia, but Eolyn learns about it through unusual means:


"On the western shores of Galia, fire springs from the earth and flows in burning rivers to the sea.  It is from this union of earth, fire and water that the Galian wizards draw their power."

Galian volcanos are important to Moisehén because the same winds that bring moisture to this inland country also pick up volcanic debris from Galia, which over geological time has settled on the landscape, particularly in the high valley of Moehn (Eolyn's home), resulting in very rich soils that, together with relatively heavy rainfall, have supported dense forests and -- where the forests have been cleared for farming -- very productive agriculture.

The South Woods of Moehn and the great forest of East Selen are actually remnants of vast expanses of woodland that once covered most of the Kingdom of Moisehen. The western portion of the country is somewhat drier than the eastern portion, and has also traditionally supported patches of grassland intermixed with woods. 

When drawing the map of Moisehén (embedded above), artist Ginger Prewitt was careful to indicate the transition from oak dominated deciduous forest in the south (which lose their leaves every winter) to coniferous evergreen forest in the north, Selen being on the whole a cooler region than Moehn, and therefore supporting a somewhat different ecosystem.

Prewitt was also kind enough to put a wolf in the South Woods for me.  I think that's my favorite part of the whole map. 

The map that was drawn up for the first novel does not include any of the surrounding kingdoms, but I mention them here to emphasize that Moisehén is an integral part of a greater whole.  As the author, it was important for me to have some vision of that greater whole in order to better understand the specifics of the landscape in which my characters lived -- which in turn allowed me a greater understanding the characters themselves.

For more thoughts on the relationship between characters, culture and landscape, stay tuned for a special guest post from Terri-Lynne DeFino, author of FINDER.  Coming soon! 

Biogeography in Fantasy

My summer reading list has included the fourth book of George R.R. Martin's Ice and Fire series, entitled A Feast for Crows.  Certain events in the story had me mulling over the map of Westeros the other day, trying to understand why Dorne has a desert environment. 

The mountain range on the west side of the kingdom of Dorne, combined with the fact that Martin mentions the winds come from the west, gave me part of the answer, as the 'rain shadow effect' (see below) would make those winds dry.  Still, Dorne has quite a bit of coast off the southwest, and it seemed to me the air masses coming from that ocean would have a lot of moisture. 

Then it occured to me -- and here was the key to the puzzle -- that Westeros is actually much larger than I've imagined it to be, extending from a polar latitude near the Wall to what is most likely to about 30N near the region of Dorne.  Roughly equivalent to the north-south expanse of Europe, from the nordic countries to Spain, with a little extra land tacked on in the south.  Some time on "A Wiki of Ice and Fire" corroborated my suspicion, and laid to rest my doubts about the capacity of Dorne to be a dry landscape. 

(My next thought was, "No wonder the royal houses of Westeros have such a hard time keeping it all under one kingdom."  I mean, really.  Why do they even try?)

One of the most challenging and interesting tasks of writing fantasy is "world building".  I was first introduced to this term by DHS, my local writers group that specializes in fantasy, horror and science fiction.  There are many, many aspects to world building, but from my point of view one must always start with the foundation:  the landscapes and biomes in which our characters live. 

It is the landscape that determines the resources available to the human (or non-human) characters in our stories.  The distribution and abundance of those resources, as well as the relative isolation of different regions, can in turn impact the structure and development of the human societies that depend upon them.

The author decides just how meticulous he or she wants (or needs) to be with the biogeographic details of a fantasy world.  But having a landscape that makes 'biogeographical sense' is one of many factors that contributes to the authenticity of a story, and whether or not your readers have conscientious knowledge of the basics of geography and climate, at some level they will sense whether the world 'feels' real or not.

When thinking about the geography and climate of your world, here are some basics to keep in mind:

 1. It's generally easier to start by assuming your world is 'earth-like' in the basics of size, rotation, relative amounts of land surface vs. water surface, distance from the sun, and so forth.  (Of course, if you are a science fiction writer, you'll probably want to throw this point out the window, as the whole premise of your story may involve a world entirely different from earth.  A wonderful example of this is Geoffrey A. Landis' award-winning short story 'The Sultan of the Clouds', set in a level of Venus' atmosphere that has more or less the equivalent of a tropical environment on earth.) 

2. Be aware of the Coriolis effect, which determines large-scale wind patterns on the earth's surface.  Because of the Coriolis effect, prevailing winds will come from different directions depending on where you are on the planet.  In the polar and tropical latitudes, prevailing winds will come from the east (northeast or southeast, depending on which side of the equator you're on).  In temperate latitudes, prevailing winds will come from the west (again, northwest or southwest, depending on which side of the equator). The interaction of landmasses, waterbodies, and wind is an important determinant of local weather patterns, so knowing where the wind is coming from (and whether it has passed over a large water body in the process of getting there) will help determine where the forests, grasslands and deserts can be found on the map of your world.

3. The interaction between the sun's energy and the earth's atmosphere leads to large-scale patterns in the distribution of forests, grasslands, deserts and polar environments, which we refer to collectively as biomes.  For example, at 30N and 30S, one can find a belt of deserts that circle the earth.  (This is the same belt that I now believe Dorne is a part of in Martin's world.)  Boreal forests, on the other hand, dominate from about 50N to 70N.  (And if you've ever wondered why there's more Boreal forest north of the equator than south of it, have a look at a map.  You'll notice our planet has a lot more land between 50N and 70N than it does between 50S and 70S. This consideration adds another level of complexity to world building.  Where are your continents and seas?  The distribution of landmasses can have a huge impact on global and local climate, and therefore the distribution of biomes.)

4. Local mountain ranges are associated with 'rain shadows', a phenomenon which causes the windward side of the range to be relatively wet, while the other side of the range tends to be dry.  In the rain shadow effect, as air masses hit mountain ranges, they rise and become cooler.  The evaporated water they carry condenses and falls as precipitation.  By the time the air mass crosses the mountain range, it has lost a lot of its moisture, resulting in dry climates on the other side.  Variation in the topography of your mountain range can add a lot of complexity to this effect.  Low passes, for example, can allow channels of moister air to reach the far side of the range.  Very high mountains can result in local air circulation patterns that lead to unusually wet slopes.  And within a mountain range, of course, there can be an interesting mix of relatively wet and dry slopes and valleys.

That's probably enough for one post.  There are many excellent on-line resources that can tell you more about how latitutude, wind patterns, land masses and water bodies interact to determine the distribution of biomes on our planet, so you can put these principles into practice when developing your fantasy world.

Next week, we'll have a look at the map of Moisehen, and talk about how these and other phenomena affect the climate and ecosystems of Eolyn's world. 

Women, Epic Fantasy and George RR Martin

Who'd've thought -- just days after my celebration over the positive review for EOLYN from Publishers Weekly, I find my hackles raised over a rather scathing commentary on the life's work of one of my heroes, George RR Martin.

The New York Times published its review of HBO’s new miniseries A Game of Thrones this week. The HBO production is based on the first book of George RR Martin’s classic fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire.

The review, written by Ginia Bellafante, is more than a little acerbic.  She criticizes not only the HBO series, but Martin’s work and epic fantasy in general, lumping all of it into a single category of “boy fiction” that would never appeal to any self-respecting, well-read woman. From her review:

'While I do not doubt that there are women in the world who read books like Mr. Martin’s, I can honestly say that I have never met a single woman who has stood up in indignation at her book club and refused to read the latest from Lorrie Moore unless everyone agreed to “The Hobbit” first.'

Now, I haven’t seen the TV series yet (HBO will premier its rendition of A Game of Thrones tomorrow evening), so I can’t speak to whether the HBO’s interpretation of Martin’s work will leave me similarly indignant. But I am one of those “women in the world who read books like Mr. Martin’s”, and I must take issue with the statement that his work, and especially Tolkien’s work, is anything less than marvelous – and certainly, The Hobbit is well worth reading before picking up the latest from Lorrie Moore. (Who may be an excellent author, but frankly I had to google Moore’s name after reading Bellafante's review because I’d never heard of her…)

That’s not to say I am insensitive the relative absence of female characters in Tokien’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. In fact, back when I first read Tolkien’s work, it was the perception that women didn’t have much of a place in the sagas of Middle Earth that planted one of the first seeds for my own novel Eolyn. (I talked about this a few months back in my post “Why Eolyn?” ) But that does not make Tolkien’s work any less engaging, or his prose any less powerful.

I have been reminded lately of the immortal quality of Tolkien’s words by listening to the audio book Children of Hurin, part of his unfinished tales. The appeal of Tolkien's stories isn’t just about orcs and elves and dwarves (though I find all of those elements very appealing). It’s the eloquence of his prose that captures this reader’s attention; the vivid imagery, the heartbreaking and very human conflicts, the ability to paint complex characters (male and female) with a few master strokes. As good as Moore or any other author of contemporary fiction may be, when predicting whose name will be more widely recognized fifty or a hundred years down the road, I am still putting my money on Tolkien.

Martin in A Song of Ice and Fire, unlike Tolkien in Lord of the Rings, does have female characters that play formidable roles throughout the first three books of the series. (I haven’t gotten to book four yet; and book five is slated for release sometime this summer.) To be fair, the women in Martin's world are still outnumbered by the men. But they are very important and very vivid. The eight-year-old daughter of Eddard Stark, Arya, is quite possibly one of the best female characters I’ve read in any genre.

Many of Martin’s female characters have qualities I don’t like; but then again, so do many of the male characters. They are all complex and flawed, all deeply steeped in the social structure of their world, driven by events and motivations often they themselves don’t understand.

The society Martin developed to write his tale of the Seven Kingdoms is among the most elaborate and well-crafted I have come across in all my years of reading. His work is not, as Bellafante claims, “boy fiction patronizingly turned out to reach the population’s other half”.  It is story telling at its very best.


To read more about how George RR Martin inspired me during the writing of EOLYN, please visit the May 30, 2010 post "My Brush with Greatness".