Since Harriet (she teaches and blogs, yo) just got a new camera, oh boy, do I have pictures of our cat. Apparently, this is what people do on Fridays.

Lilly likes to sleep a lot.

She’ll sleep on you if you hold still long enough.

Actually, she sleeps on anything that holds still long enough.

I doubt this will be a regular feature. But still, aww, Lilly.

…Well, duh. But I’m watching An Evening With Kevin Smith 2 (Evening Harder) and he’s talking to a female comic book fan. (Him: “You are? Hardcore. You walk into a store and everyone loves you, right?”) She used to work at a Forbidden Planet and he laughs and points out that guys freak out, they hit on her, and she must be such a novelty because…boobies!

But it was a short comment and the eye-rolling mockery was towards the fanboys who can’t deal with female fans, and not towards the woman who dares work in the comic book store. Rock on.

Good Christ. I just found and read through this. Ahem:

“I’m at the local wine bar and a very attractive hostess is recommending books in the science fiction genre to another (far less attractive) hostess. So far I’ve heard Ender’s Game, Hyperion and Snow Crash tossed off as appropriate for a “newbie.” Is this the Twlight Zone??? Am I a freak to think this is freaky? I haven’t had a sip of wine, so it isn’t the alcohol.”

So now, please let me explain why I’m dating GC, who, while he has his nerdy tendencies (such as an encyclopedic knowledge of the history of baseball, which I find perhaps a little too hot), has no interest in anything even vaguely related to scifi; and not someone who has a fetish for hot nerds.

Whether you call it a nerd, a dork, a geek, or a brain, I am one. I’m a woman who loves science fiction, for example. And on the one hand, I’ve always been proud of my geekiness — much prouder of that than of my looks, in fact. Part of being in a subculture that’s often mocked is that if you don’t embrace it, there’s a good chance you’ll be miserable. So I embraced it. I own my nerdiness and my fangirly glee. But I don’t advertise it anymore, because, quite frankly, I’m sick to fucking death of male nerds being amazed by my very existence.

Case in point. GC and I met when we were both working at Borders. He and I had gone out on a couple of dates before the subject of Batman came up. I don’t remember how it happened, but I suspect it was something along the lines of favorite actors → Christian Bale → Batman Begins → Batman. He likes Batman, in an abstract sense, but has never been into comics. And while most of my friends are hardcore comics fans whose knowledge makes mine look miniscule, I’ve read a whole bunch of trade paperbacks, and a couple of histories/social studies of Batman. I’m definitely at least conversant on the subject. GC was impressed (and perhaps terrified, but he got over that), and in the break room the next week, he asked me a Batman-related question. Unfortunately, we weren’t the only people in the room. Two other guys, both of them nerds, were there. Both of them overheard. And upon affirming that yes, I really like Batman and have a mild interest in and knowledge of comics, I was asked what other titles I read.

This was not a friendly question. It wasn’t the way you’d ask a new acquaintance what they read to see if there’s anything to discuss or bond over. It was a challenge, which they made very clear. The question may have been, “What other comics do you like?” but the subtext was very clearly, “You’re a girl, what other comics could you possibly actually be familiar with?”

But I am, as I said, conversant in Batman and passingly interested in comics. So I answered honestly that I don’t really read a lot of comics, and definitely know more about Batman than anything else, but thanks to friends who were really into them, I enjoy both Green Lantern and Green Arrow. And the guys in the staff room, well, freaked out.

The questions began. First I was asked to establish more credentials, and it wasn’t even innocently phrased anymore. One guy said, word for word, “If you really like Batman, name three Robins.” Because hey, I’m me, I busted out Stephanie Brown, in fact, and not Tim Drake. I was then told that I’d forgotten one. (“No, you asked for three and I named three. If you wanted Tim, you should have asked who the three male Robins were.”) I was asked who killed Jason Todd. I was asked to detail current storylines.

And again, keep in mind, these were questions to establish that, good god, I really was a living, breathing girl — an attractive one, no less! — who was into something nerdy. One of the guys responded with wonder. The other, who many women at the store have had other, far worse kinds of run ins with, was angry and condescending. (Needless to say, he was the one who hadn’t even realized Stephanie was a valid answer to the Robin question.) This all went on for a good twenty minutes (until our break ended, in fact) and through the whole thing I got more flustered and more angry, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on why until later.

I later pondered and realized that what pissed me off was the notion that, because I’m female, I need to prove to men that I can join their exclusive club. And once that proof is established, I’m still not really allowed into their clubhouse. In the same way that so many nerds consider jocks to be practically another species, well, women are, too. We are Other. We’re confusing and mystifying. And it doesn’t matter if we like the same things, if we read the same things, if we discuss the same things. ‘Female’ is ‘Other’. But a female who is into those same things is put into yet another classification — as both female and nerd (especially if you’re attractive) you’re now a fetish. You’re someone who can share the joy of videogames and comics and science fiction, so he doesn’t have to alter his interests to impress you — and on top of that, you might have sex with him. You’re not just a girl, you’re a dream girl.

I used to be pretty pleased with that. I grew up awkward (as many nerds do) and when I first met a group of male nerds who treated me as Queen Nerd, it was a heady, thrilling feeling. But as I grew more comfortable and confident with myself, it started to feel creepier. I don’t like being someone’s concept, I like being a person. And Nerd Girl is not the same as Person.

To refer back to the title, though it’s a vast overstatement (there are many reasons why I’m dating GC, and I have definitely dated nerds in the past), one thing about the way GC and I interact that makes me feel really good is that he likes me as a person, and not as a Nerd Girl. He likes that I’m intelligent, he likes that I’m happy to kick back and watch baseball with him, he likes that I’m cute. And he finds my nerdiness to be an endearing quirk, one he’s fond of, but when it comes down to it, he likes me for me, nerdiness included, but not because I’m a nerd. And that is a much better feeling.

First off: The Seventh Blog Carnival of Feminist Fantasy and Science Fiction Fans is up. Lots of cool stuff there.

Okay. So I’ve complained about gender roles and stereotypes in books, so it only seems fair that, when I find a book that doesn’t leave me irritated, I should share it. So here’s the first of what will, hopefully, be many book reviews to come.

The City of Ember and The People of Sparks by Jeanne DuPrau

These books could practically have been created with me in mind. My favorite type of science fiction — one of my favorite genres, period — is the dystopia. A friend who worked at a book store spotted these and realized they’d be right up my alley. And oh boy, were they ever.

The main characters populate a small city called Ember. We don’t know much about it at the beginning, except that it was built for them by some people in the distant past, and that the Builders left instructions for the citizens of Ember to leave after two hundred years. But the instructions were lost, and no one seems to remember that they ever existed to begin with.

As the story unfolds, we learn more about the city. Specifically, the readers learn that it’s underground and powered by a generator that runs off a massive river beneath the city, but that the citizens of Ember don’t know how it works — nor do they even know that they’re underground. They all believe that their city is the only light in a dark world…But the generator is beginning to break down, and no one knows how to fix it, bringing more and more blackouts into the city. And supplies are running out, too. The Builders gave them great storehouses with everything they could ever need, designed to last two centuries. More time has passed than intended, and now everything from canned veggies to lightbulbs are running out. The city is dying, and its citizens are trapped.

Our main characters are Lina and Doon, a pair of twelve year olds who have finished their schooling and are entering the city’s workforce for the first time. Lina is a messenger — the city doesn’t have phones, so messengers take a small payment to literally run across the city carrying messages between people. Doon is assigned to the pipeworks, and his goal is to learn how the generator works so he can fix it for the city. Instead, all he gets to do is fix leaky pipes.

Lina discovers two important things: one of her friends works in the store rooms, and there are a few cans of very rare, thought to be used up, supplies left, which a small group of people have been sneaking out and eating. She also finds what looks like a very old, important set of instructions, but she can’t figure out what they mean: her baby sister got to them first, and tore and chewed them up. Worried about the people who are hoarding supplies, especially as blackouts become more frequent, she realizes the instructions have something to do with leaving or fixing the city. But no one will take her seriously except Doon. Together, the two of them try to stop the hoarding and figure out how to save the city.

Aside from presenting a fun adventure, the book tackles a couple of questions that parallel our own world. First, the hoarding of scarce resources. At first, Lina wonders if it’s okay — if there’s only one can of pineapple left, who should get it? How can anyone decide that? And if no one can decide fairly, does that make finders-keepers fair? But she realizes quickly that hoarding is not okay at all…and when she tries to get the problems fixed, she realized that it isn’t just one or two people. Even the mayor, the city’s highest authority, is in on the corruption. Lina knows that the Builders intended the city’s supplies to belong to all of its citizens, which means the mayor is stealing from people who elected him. Who can you turn to to get rid of corruption, when the people who have the authority are the ones who are corrupt?

The second major issues is environmentalism. Everything in Ember’s environment is constructed, but their situation is eerily reminiscent of the current world’s. Ember has a finite amount of resources, which are running out; and their environment is breaking down, in the form of their generator breaking down. At first, everyone can pretend it won’t be a problem, and hope for a miracle solution. When there’s no miracle, they wait for the government to solve the problem…but the government is corrupt and hoarding goods rather than fixing the problem. So when most citizens choose to ignore the obvious problems, it’s also the young, motivated citizens who have to take matters into their own hands, and find their own solutions.

Needless to say, it’s very easy to look at the situation of Ember, and see a simpler version of today’s society. The corrupt administration is buffoon-like and easily defeated, but still reminiscent of the Bush administration: it lies and is misuses resources. Ember’s dying resources parallel global warming and oil shortages. And while their solutions aren’t applicable to the real world, they do make a very strong point: denying a problem makes it worse, and merely acknowledging a problem without actively seeking a solution still doesn’t help. It’s also optimistic: the characters are regular kids. They’re smart and motivated, but they don’t have any special skills. All they have is the urge to help their city, and by getting involved and doing what they can, they find they have the ability to save the day when other people refuse to.

And that doesn’t even get into the sequel, which tackles war: what makes a war just? What is worth fighting for? And when everyone around you is set to fight, how can both individual people and leaders find solutions? Needless to say, it’s another intense, interesting read.

Finally, the series gets even more credit with me. It avoids the female character pitfalls I’ve written about before. To begin with, Lina and Doon, in slight ways, invert gender stereotypes: Lina is active, outspoken, and physical, where Doon is quiet, emotional, and thoughtful. But almost more importantly, the story shares the spotlight between a male and female protagonist (putting Lina slightly in the forefront — they share time, but ultimately it seems that the series is about her, with Doon as her best friend), and notably, they aren’t romantic with one another. I can’t think of any other series where there are no romances whatsoever, let alone another series where the female and male protagonists don’t fall for one another. They’re best friends, they care deeply about one another, and they consider each other family. But they never get romantically involved.

Overall, I give the series an A+. It presents a fascinating, eerie world (but manages to keep its dystopia from being too depressing to enjoy) that deals with hard problems. It doesn’t present solutions to our society’s problems, but does give the message that only if we readers get passionate and get involved can they be fixed. The characters are interesting and fun. The story is exciting and well constructed. I’ve read both books twice through now, and am keeping them for future readings. I can not possibly recommend them enough.

CW news at 11 promo:

“Next, fashion models, are they starving themselves to be thin? We give you ways to enhance young girls’ self esteem. Then, the new surgery to give women prettier feet!”

My sister and I took our cat to the vet yesterday, and while waiting for a sick kitten to be admitted for care (awwww) I picked up the current issue of Time Out New York, which was sitting in the lobby. The cover story is New Dork City, about how geekiness is becoming mainstream and can be spotted all through the city.

It was interesting, even if it didn’t match my own ideas of what being a nerd/dork/geek/generally socially awkward, smart misfit is. It struck me more as hipsters who’d decided to even disdain of hipster culture and declared themselves to be nerds instead, but still had the hipster attitude and approach, rather than a nerdy one.

But what got me about the article was a sidebar, Nerd Watching. It was five different kinds of nerds, what they do and where to find them, and a celebrity spokesnerd to be identified with each. And while again, their definition of nerds was a lot different than mine, it was at least interesting. And also somewhere between irritating and infuriating.

Why? Because the only female nerd in the bunch was, “The NILF.” I assume you already know what it stands for, but since this place does nothing but attract spam anyway, I might as well target it — Nerd I’d Like to Fuck. And though I agree, Tina Fey does indeed epitomize the sexy nerd girl, I object to the fact that a) the only other mention of women was that some kinds of nerds, the ones who make it cool, get to have “surprisingly attractive significant others” (no ugs! They aren’t worth dating! Especially not for a nerd, who values things like intelligence! …oh, wait); and b) that clearly, no men can be fuckable nerds — it’s just a girl thing, and apparently, girls don’t get to be any other kinds of nerd.

Furthermore, the emphasis was on the female nerd’s body, not her brain: the NILF can be spotted at, “strip clubs, where women take their clothes off to put themselves through law school,” and their key attributes listed “rockin’ body” before “rocket-scientist brain”. In other words, female nerds are nothing but male fantasies. She’s sexy — but she might be almost as smart as you, and close to worthwhile in a conversation! Gasp!

Well, speaking as a female who’s a nerd and a feminist, I’m a lot prouder of my smarts than my body, and pretty glad that I didn’t waste money to read the article. Shame, Time Out New York. Shaaaaaame.