The Jewel-Hinged Jaw: Notes on the Language of Science Fiction

The Jewel-Hinged Jaw: Notes on the Language of Science Fiction

Samuel R. Delany

Language: English

Pages: 288

ISBN: 081956883X

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


Samuel R. Delany’s The Jewel-Hinged Jaw appeared originally in 1977, and is now long out of print and hard to find. The impact of its demonstration that science fiction was a special language, rather than just gadgets and green-skinned aliens, began reverberations still felt in science fiction criticism. This edition includes two new essays, one written at the time and one written about those times, as well as an introduction by writer and teacher Matthew Cheney, placing Delany’s work in historical context. Close textual analyses of Thomas M. Disch, Ursula K. Le Guin, Roger Zelazny, and Joanna Russ read as brilliantly today as when they first appeared. Essays such as “About 5,750 Words” and “To Read The Dispossessed” first made the book a classic; they assure it will remain one.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

understand what has already been written. Writers must do this if the field is to mature to the potential so frequently cited for it. NEW YORK DECEMBER 1 96 8 This page intentionally left blank 2 Critical Methods/ Speculative Fiction The historical discussion of the development of some area of art, while often illuminating, does not necessarily exhaust that area. The development of a particular literary technique or theme over several decades through several writers, often in several

moved away to support the pseudo-science of the James Bond–style thriller (it has always had an existence in the classic detective novel), which would thoroughly collapse without it. But this is the way the web of influence works, passing in and out of the genre, crossing national and language boundaries and returning, completely frustrating the historical critic who would keep everything in its proper path. In the same way, the didactic methods of Robert Heinlein owe a great deal to Shaw’s

from spluttering a little.) Finally the manuscript reached another tall person, seated almost directly across from me, near the fire, wearing tremendous silver earrings and a pale blue sweater over her shoulders—Russ herself. She leaned her elbows forward on the knees of her gray felt skirt and said: “First of all, this story is based on a Swinburne poem, ‘The Garden of Persephone,’ and all this confusion is simply because those who are familiar with the poem get the story: Those who aren’t,

Good Things) try to escape. And I’m sure Dick expects “people” to like his story. The mankind/humanity/anyone/nobody matrix has been used fiftyfour years now (and only fifty-four years; specifically since women took the vote for themselves—before that, nobody even thought it necessary to make the gesture of inclusion), under the ruse of “including” women, to absorb, ride over, and obliterate them. (Who? Them, Jeff. Not us.) And this morning, I get a letter, signed with a man’s name (Jeffrey Smith;

and girls—wore jeans. The boys slept in tents on the other side of a small hill from the girls’ bunk buildings. But the rotating camper work crews that got up early to set the tables in the dining hall were equally male and female; the camper surveying team that was making a contour map of the area was composed of both boys and girls. All camper activities, from overnight hikes and nature trips to pottery and carpentry classes were co-ed. Boys’ athletics and girls’ athletics were held on

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