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The nature of gifts
Yesterday evening, I went to the Ottawa Writers' Festival to see presentations by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
papersky and Ursula K. Le Guin. Both talks were interesting and enjoyable.
I was one of those in the audience who got to ask Ms. Le Guin a question. I noted that she'd had problems with depictions of some of her Earthsea characters as white, in media adaptations, and asked how she felt about their depictions in cover art for her novels? "For example, the first copy I owned of A Wizard of Earthsea showed Ged as bone-white and, well, depressed --"
"The first American publication," she said. "Droopy. He was droopy." The audience laughed.
"He looked kind of like Hamlet," I said. "I've found better covers since."
She explained briefly that authors don't generally have much input into the cover art (which I knew), but noted that although publishers used to believe firmly that showing people of colour on book covers would kill sales, things have slowly been getting better, and that perhaps with Obama's election, things would be different now.
As I was walking up to join the end of the line to ask questions, there was a rather odd character at the microphone. I didn't get a good look at him; I could see that he was barefoot and there was an elaborate tattoo on the back of his neck, extending down below the collar of his shirt. He was choked and somewhat incoherent, apparently overwhelmed at being able to address Ms. Le Guin. He said that she'd been a great inspiration to him, and begged her to accept a gift from him.
There was a somewhat awkward pause; she was kind of on the spot. She hedged that she hoped it wasn't too heavy, as she could only carry so much home. Then she accepted the gift: a cylinder wrapped in blue paper, about the size of a large wine bottle in a tube, perhaps. The guy was leaving the microphone, and Ms. Le Guin asked if she should unwrap it now or wait until later. "Probably later," the guy said.
The whole thing seemed kind of creepy. I know that it was probably harmless, at worst something like the fan who sent Isaac Asimov a marijuana joint in thanks for all of the thrills that Asimov's writing had given him. Old wisdom: you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. And to refuse the gift so publically would have been discourteous (though not, perhaps, so discourteous as such a public presentation of a mysterious gift).
But... Maybe it's because of the fantasy theme of that evening, maybe because I've just finished reading Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. It occurred to me sometime in the wee hours this morning that -- older wisdom -- you don't ever accept a gift from a stranger without knowing its nature. I'm a scientist and a skeptic by nature; I'm still cautious about open-ended promises. Never summon or invoke anything you can't be sure is benevolent or controllable. And so forth.
papersky and Ursula K. Le Guin. Both talks were interesting and enjoyable.I was one of those in the audience who got to ask Ms. Le Guin a question. I noted that she'd had problems with depictions of some of her Earthsea characters as white, in media adaptations, and asked how she felt about their depictions in cover art for her novels? "For example, the first copy I owned of A Wizard of Earthsea showed Ged as bone-white and, well, depressed --"
"The first American publication," she said. "Droopy. He was droopy." The audience laughed.
"He looked kind of like Hamlet," I said. "I've found better covers since."
She explained briefly that authors don't generally have much input into the cover art (which I knew), but noted that although publishers used to believe firmly that showing people of colour on book covers would kill sales, things have slowly been getting better, and that perhaps with Obama's election, things would be different now.
As I was walking up to join the end of the line to ask questions, there was a rather odd character at the microphone. I didn't get a good look at him; I could see that he was barefoot and there was an elaborate tattoo on the back of his neck, extending down below the collar of his shirt. He was choked and somewhat incoherent, apparently overwhelmed at being able to address Ms. Le Guin. He said that she'd been a great inspiration to him, and begged her to accept a gift from him.
There was a somewhat awkward pause; she was kind of on the spot. She hedged that she hoped it wasn't too heavy, as she could only carry so much home. Then she accepted the gift: a cylinder wrapped in blue paper, about the size of a large wine bottle in a tube, perhaps. The guy was leaving the microphone, and Ms. Le Guin asked if she should unwrap it now or wait until later. "Probably later," the guy said.
The whole thing seemed kind of creepy. I know that it was probably harmless, at worst something like the fan who sent Isaac Asimov a marijuana joint in thanks for all of the thrills that Asimov's writing had given him. Old wisdom: you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. And to refuse the gift so publically would have been discourteous (though not, perhaps, so discourteous as such a public presentation of a mysterious gift).
But... Maybe it's because of the fantasy theme of that evening, maybe because I've just finished reading Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. It occurred to me sometime in the wee hours this morning that -- older wisdom -- you don't ever accept a gift from a stranger without knowing its nature. I'm a scientist and a skeptic by nature; I'm still cautious about open-ended promises. Never summon or invoke anything you can't be sure is benevolent or controllable. And so forth.
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You never head an indication of what the gift was?
It's an interesting theme for a story.
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There is an etiquette guideline that could have helped her out: don't open gifts in front of people who haven't brought a gift, so they don't feel guilty. (And so you are not embarassed by a very personal gift at a large gathering.) People don't seem to know this rule, having more experience with required gift-giving occasions such as Christmas, kid's birthday parties and baby showers.
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