We’re very proud to have published this book and elated to see it recognized in this way. The Freedom Maze is also a Prometheus Award finalist and was on the Kirkus Reviews Best of 2011 and Tiptree Award Honor lists. The audio book will come out this autumn from Listening Library; you can listen to an interview with Delia and a reading from The Freedom Maze on our podcast, and read Delia’s guest post on Diversity in YA about the book: “When I began writing The Freedom Maze, back in 1987, I didn’t intend to write a book about race.”

Geoff Ryman was very happy that he came over from the UK for the weekend: his story “What We Found,” from the Sept./Oct. 2011 issue of F&SF received the novelette Nebula. That story is not in his collection Paradise Tales but if you want a taste of his writing you can read the first story, “The Film-makers of Mars,” on Tor.com.

It’s been said that Kij Johnson‘s forthcoming At the Mouth of the River of Bees: Stories is one of the most anticipated debut (print—there was an ebook collection a few years ago) science fiction and fantasy collections in recent years. Her story “The Man Who Bridged the Mist“ (Asimov’s, Oct./Nov. 2011) is her third in three years to have received the Nebula, which is pretty amazing. You can read a few of her stories on her website and the collection—with a fantastic cover by Jackie Morris—will be out in August.

Also: Delia will be at Wiscon in Madiscon, WI, next weekend. We’re not going (ach!) but David J. Schwartz will be tabling for us, thanks again Dave. He will have a few signed copies of Delia’s book—all we have left are the copies Delia signed when she was up here recently. When the few we have and those sent to Wiscon sell, that’s it until the paperback comes out. Get your copy here. Of course, you can also get the ebook.

So:

1. here’s the story in the English translation
2. then the same story run through Google from English to Spanish (enjoy, Hispanophones!),
3. and, lastly the machine Spanish translation retranslated by Google from Spanish to English—using a different browser so that it did not just return the original text.

I used one of the shorter stories in the book, “Variation on a Theme of Coleridge” by Alberto Chimal [video of author reading], translated by co-editor Chris N.Brown so that you can buzz through it and easily compare:

I got a call. It was me, calling from a phone I lost the year before. I asked me where I had found the phone. I answered myself that it was in such and such cafeteria that I couldn’t remember anymore.
“You’re sick,” I said, calling from who knows where. “What have you done with your life? Still getting fat? Still stuck in your crisis?”
I told myself no, but in reality I was lying and I knew it.
“You’re lying,” I told myself.
“What do you want?” I asked me, a little annoyed with myself. Why was it I was looking for myself at this particular moment?
“You must be wondering why I’m looking for you right now,” I said.
“It’s not true!” I answered.
“The one that gets mad loses,” I said, laughing at myself, and I wanted to hang up but I stopped myself, saying, “You need someone to put you in your place and straighten you out.”
Then there was a knock on the door, and it turned out it was me. I’d been standing there the whole time.
“Obviously I know where you live, idiot,” I said to myself without hanging up the cell phone.
“It’s not worth it,” I answered. “Go ahead and hang up already.”
It was really ridiculous to keep talking on the cell phone. But it didn’t really console me to think that, if I saw me as being ridiculous, I also saw myself as being ridiculous. In fact I wanted to cry from the realization that I actually looked younger and skinnier, and only a year had passed. Even worse, I had hair, I still had hair, when really I’d had one of my crises the day before and I’d shaven and I looked pathetic.
“You look pathetic,” I said to myself. I couldn’t take any more. I started to really cry, and answered me. “Yes.” And then I fell to the floor. And then, against all expectations, I knelt and hugged myself, hugged myself and consoled myself and told myself that everything was going to be okay, that if I didn’t help myself then who was going to help me . . . or so I told myself.
“We’re going to need to hang up,” I added after a moment, and laughed. I laughed too, sucking up the tears and thinking how unworthy our pose was. Then it occurred to me that I’d gotten negligent, because my telephone from a year ago was in better shape than the one I have now.

————

And now, here is that translation run through Google Translate:

Recibí una llamada?. Era yo, llamando desde un teléfono que perdí el año anterior. Yo me preguntó de dónde había encontrado el teléfono. Me contestó que era en la cafetería de tal y tal que no podía recordar más.
“Usted está enfermo”, le dije, que llamaba desde quién sabe dónde. “¿Qué has hecho con tu vida? Aún así engordar? Todavía atascado en la crisis? ”
Me dije que no, pero en realidad me estaba mintiendo y yo lo sabía.
“Estás mintiendo”, me dije.
“¿Qué quieres?” Yo me preguntó, un poco molesto conmigo mismo. ¿Por qué fue que yo estaba buscando a mí mismo en este momento en particular?
“Usted debe estar preguntándose por qué estoy buscando ahora mismo”, le dije.
“No es cierto!”, Respondí.
“El que se enoja pierde”, le dije, riéndome de mí, y yo quería colgar, pero me detuvo, diciendo: “Usted necesita a alguien que le ponga en su lugar y enderezar a salir.”
Luego hubo un golpe en la puerta, y resultó que era yo. Había estado allí todo el tiempo.
“Obviamente, yo sé dónde vives, idiota”, me dije sin colgar el teléfono celular.
“No vale la pena”, le contesté. “Vaya por delante y cuelgue ya.”
Fue realmente ridículo seguir hablando en el teléfono celular. Pero en realidad no la consola me hace pensar que, si yo me viera como algo ridículo, yo también me veía como ridículo. De hecho, me entraron ganas de llorar de la constatación de que en realidad parecía más joven y más delgado, y sólo un año había pasado. Lo que es peor, yo tenía el pelo, yo todavía tenía el pelo, cuando en realidad había tenido una de mis crisis el día anterior y me afeitado y me parecía patético.
“Te ves patético”, me dije a mí mismo. Yo no podía aguantar más. Me puse a llorar de verdad, y me respondió. “Sí”. Y entonces me cayó al suelo. Y luego, contra todo pronóstico, me arrodillé y se abrazó a mí mismo, abrazó a mí y me consolé y me dije que todo iba a estar bien, que si no me ayudan, que me iba a ayudar. . . más o menos, me dije.
“Vamos a tener que colgar”, añadió que después de un momento, y se rió. Yo también me reí, absorbiendo las lágrimas y pensando en lo indigno posar nuestra era. Entonces se me ocurrió que había llegado por negligencia, porque mi teléfono desde hace un año estaba en mejores condiciones que la que tengo ahora.

———

And, at last, here it is back again (cut and pasted as is):

I got a call?. I was calling from a phone that I lost last year. I asked where I had found the phone. He said it was in the cafeteria of so and so could not remember.
“You are sick,” he said, calling from God knows where. “What have you done with your life? Still fat? Still stuck in the crisis?”
I said no, but in reality I was lying and I knew it.
“You’re lying,” he said.
“What do you want?” I asked, a little annoyed with myself. Why was I was looking for myself in this particular time?
“You must be wondering why I’m looking for right now,” he said.
“Not true!” I replied.
“Whoever loses gets angry,” he said, laughing at me, and I wanted to hang, but he stopped me, saying, “You need someone to put in place and straighten out.”
Then there was a knock on the door, and turned out it was me. He had been there all along.
“Obviously, I know where you live, idiot,” I said without hanging up the phone.
“Not worth it,” he said. “Go ahead and hang up now.”
It was really ridiculous to continue talking on cell phone. But the console does not really makes me think that if I see me as something ridiculous, I also saw me as ridiculous. In fact, I wanted to mourn the realization that actually looked younger and thinner, and only a year had passed. Worse, I had hair, I still had hair, when in fact he had one of my crisis the day before and I shaved and I felt pathetic.
“You look pathetic,” I said to myself. I could not take it anymore. I really began to mourn, and I responded. “Yes.” And then I fell. And then, against all odds, I knelt down and hugged myself, hugged me and comforted me and told me that everything would be fine, if not help me, I would help. . . or so I thought.
“We’ll have to hang up,” he added after a moment, and laughed. I laughed too, absorbing tears, thinking how undignified pose AD. Then I thought that had come through negligence, because my phone for a year was in better condition than I have now.

———

The machine translation gets the gist of it, but it’s definitely not there enough yet. It will be fun (or scary) to do this in 2-3 years time to see how much it improves.

Bookstores and reviewers: if you would like a print copy, email us at info @ smallbeerpres dot com and we will add you to our opt-in very occasional actual physical mailing list.

In conjunction with posting our catalog, we’ve added our new titles to the site. More about these books TK in coming weeks, but for the moment we are delighted to add books we are very happily working on:

Peter Dickinson, Earth and Air: Tales of Elemental Creatures (Sept. tc/tp/ebook)

Kathe Koja, Under the Poppy (Sept. tp)

The Selected Stories of Ursula K. Le Guin Volume One: Where on Earth (Nov. tc/ebook)
The Selected Stories of Ursula K. Le Guin Volume Two: Outer Space Inner Lands (Nov. tc/ebook)

Angélica Gorodischer, Trafalgar: a novel (Feb. 2013, tp/ebook, translated by Amalia Gladhart)

All of which can be ordered right here right now.

Small Beer Press 2012+

Street Books

Portland, OR
> www.streetbooks.org

Street Books is a bicycle-powered mobile library serving people who live outside in Portland, Oregon. Founded in June 2011, the street library offers a means to check out books for patrons who are unable to do so from regular libraries because they lack identification or proof of address. In nearly a year of operation, hundreds of patrons have been served, many of them becoming regulars who return weekly to the shift to return books and check out new ones. Patrons are invited to be photographed with their books of choice, and contribute their own reviews or stories from the road. These stories can be viewed at Streetbooks.org.

Street Books is committed to providing good literature, and conversations about literature, for those who are often pushed to the margins. Patrons have checked out hundreds of paperbacks in all genres, from sci-fi to romance to memoir, by authors ranging from James Patterson and Jeannette Walls to Flannery O’Connor and Stephen King. Street Books has created a greater engagement between its patrons and the larger housed community, and built a bridge with literature between the two. The Street Books project has been featured in national and international media, including Library Journal, The Christian Science Monitor, and Newstalk Radio in Ireland.

And why not? He’s an interesting guy, an astute anthologist and a terrific writer. Yes,it’s true: he’s won the Nebula, the James Tiptree Jr. and the Shirley Jackson awards. He’s also co-edited a fantastic series of anthologies with James Patrick Kelly. I tried to cover everything in a single interview. In other words, I set myself the impossible task.

What did make it into this podcast? John’s thoughts on the singularity, his current batch of anthologies with Jim Kelly, his latest novel in progress (yay!) his illuminating thoughts on Ender’s Game, a reading from his novelette, “Buddha Nostril Bird,” and how science fiction saved his life.

Small Beer is part of the DRM-free universe. More than that, John’s collection The Baum Plan for Financial Independence is available as a free ebook on Weightless Books. So go ahead and read the collection for yourself. After all, how many interviews come with their own free book?

Episode 10: In which Julie Day interviews John Kessel

Subscribe to the Small Beer podcast using  iTunes or the service of your choice:

Let’s use a 320-page book as an example. We’ve been pricing our trade paperbacks at $16 since we started publishing in 2001. From that $16, about 65% goes to the bookstore and the distro. So we receive about 35% = $5.60 to pay the author and for the art, copyediting, marketing, publicity, mailing, freight, returns, and whatever other costs there are, including, with luck, ourselves.

So why don’t we minimize our investment in printed books and only print one or two hundred at a time? Because we can’t afford to.

We always use recycled paper, which bumps up the printing price of all our books but we’ve always thought that if a publisher can’t afford that, they shouldn’t be printing books.

The book printer below quoted just under $2 a copy, not bad for only 2K books. The more books we can print, the lower the unit cost. That leaves us almost $4 for all those costs above.

If we go the print on demand route, we’d receive $0.83 per book, not enough to pay the author royalties, never mind anything else.

So until the print on demand unit price drops, we’ll stick to printing a couple of thousand copies, letting books sell through, and reprinting when the orders start building up.

Print on Demand (quotes provided May 1, 2012 from 2 printers):

100 copies
$517.00 · ($5.17 each)
$667.80 · ($6.67 each)

250 copies
$1,292.50 · ($5.17 each)
$1,458.89 · ($5.83 each)

Book Printer (quote provided Feb 16, 2012):

2000 copies (including freight to warehouse/office)
$3842.00 · ($1.92 each)

If anyone can tell you what the near future holds, it’s Nancy Kress. She’s been on a tear in recent years writing up a storm about what it’s like to live now and what it will be like when the aliens come—how does she know? (Well, it ain’t called science fiction for nothing.)

You can get the book from us (both version, print and ebook, are as always DRM-free, ha!) and it will be stacked up at such excellent bookstores as Elliott Bay, A Room of One’s Own, Powell’s, Barnes & Noble, and University Bookstore.

Two of the stories, “End Game” & “The Kindness of Strangers,” are available on Escape Pod and with luck we’ll have another one up on the Small Beer Podcast within the next couple of weeks. It will either be “Safeguard” or “Laws of Survival”—I love the first one slightly more than the second, even though the second one outweighs the first by a factor of 1.2 billion on the weirdness scale, but we will see. (I also love the caper-ish title  story (which you can read on Asimov’s) but I think it’s too long for the podcast.)

So: Fountain of Age goes out into the world today. Steven Finch of fonografiks.com, who did the cover for After the Apocalypse did us proud again, thanks Steven!

If you read the book and love it we’d love to hear about it—and please do help us spread the word.

Last minute contest: we will send a free copy of the book out to the first three readers (US & Canada only, sorry) who can tell us the name of the story we published recently that features the fountain of youth.

NB: we automatically ship signed copies of any books we have in stock.