Posted by dolorosa12 in linkpost.
Tags: aliette de bodard, australiana, isabel yap, isobelle carmody, jill s, mari ness, natalie luhrs, obernewtyn chronicles, the red queen, world fantasy awards
This post is going to be a bit Isobelle Carmody-heavy. The final Obernewtyn book came out, and I am not okay.
Monica Tan interviews Carmody in The Guardian:
Elspeth’s question is how to exist in the world, to be what she is and to find people who would allow her to be what she is. I think it’s everybody’s question to find a place in the world and to find your tribe, but the world itself has to find a way to let groups of people exist with one another.
Fran Kelly interviewed Carmody on Radio National:
[Readers write to me saying] they feel they survived childhood because of those books.
I appreciated this post by Jill S, ‘Dragons and poison chalices’:
I’m gathering my community of support. We are small but mighty. And this community reminds me daily that there are people in the world who can support my dreams and don’t feel threatened by them. So when you find someone who cheers you on, wholeheartedly, without fear that you are going to diminish them, cling tight.
I highly recommend ‘A Cup of Salt Tears’, a new-to-me short story by Isabel Yap.
I appreciate the work that Natalie Luhrs does in keeping records, bearing witness, and holding people to account. This report on the recent World Fantasy Convention was excellent:
In my experience, when many con-runners talk about best practices, what they mean is the way it’s always been done–and the way they’re most comfortable doing it.
Mari Ness’ post about problems with accessibility at the con (namely, that it was abysmal) is also an important read:
Because, unfortunately, this is not the first disability/accessibility problem I have had with conventions, or the first time a convention has asked/agreed to have me on programming and then failed to have a ramp that allows me to access the stage. At least in this case it wasn’t a Disability in Science Fiction panel that, incredibly enough, lacked a ramp, but against that, in this case, the conrunners were aware I was coming, were aware that I use a wheelchair, had spoken to me prior to the convention and had assured me that the convention would be fully accessible, and put me on panels with stages but no ramp.
Aliette de Bodard offers her thoughts on the (long overdue) decision to replace the WFA trophies with something other than Lovecraft’s head:
It’s not that I think Lovecraft should be forever cast beyond the pale of acceptable. I mean, come on, genre has had plenty of people who were, er, not shining examples of mankind, and I personally feel like the binary of “this person was a genius and can do no wrong/this person is a racist and can therefore do nothing of worth” doesn’t really make for constructive discussion. (but see above for the “we should give everything a fair chance” fallacy. I’m personally not particularly inclined to give reading time or space to a man who thought I was an abomination, and I will side-eye you quite a bit if you insist I should). It’s more that… these are the World Fantasy Awards. They’re not the H.P. Lovecraft Awards, so there’s no particular reason for him to be associated with them: doing so just creates extra awkwardness.
And on a much lighter note, this story is just the most Australian thing ever: paramedics in Queensland have stopped asking patients the name of the prime minister, because nobody can keep track.
“We would ask patients that question because it gave us an idea of their conscious level and ability to recall events,” Mr Abood said. “But the country’s prime ministers are changing so often, it’s no longer a good indication of their mental status.”
Mr Abood once asked a patient to name the prime minister, only to be told: “I haven’t watched the news today.”
I had a good laugh at that.
Posted by dolorosa12 in linkpost.
Tags: academia, aliette de bodard, alyssa wong, annalee flower horne, australiana, fred clark, isabel yap, joanna russ, jrr tolkien, leila rasheed, librarianship, m sereno, medieval literature, natalie luhrs, no award, people of colo(u)r destroy science fiction, rebecca merkelbach, rochita loenen-ruiz, salem witch trials, samatha shannon, tell them stories, the bone season, the song rising, the toast
It’s been a while, but I’m back again with links: links that are important, links that made me think, links that made me smile.
Firstly, and most importantly, the fundraiser for Rochita Loenen-Ruiz is running until 9th November. Please support this if you can. Rochita is a wonderful person, and she and her family are going through a very difficult time.
The rest of my links are going to be grouped under headings, as it’s been some time since I made a post of this nature.
Reading, writing, history, community
Submissions are now open for the People of Colo(u)r Destroy Science Fiction anthology.
This is an unbelievably powerful essay on the Salem witch trials. The line that stood out to me was this one:
But what rings most dangerously prophetic about Salem is the ideology that suggests imagining the most helpless and vulnerable in our communities as the most powerful, in a kind of 1984-esque doublethink that provides a rationale for causing as much harm as one wishes to that group.
Aliette de Bodard on ‘History, Erasure and the Stories that Need to be Told’.
Annalee Flower Horne and Natalie Luhrs on the continued relevance of How To Suppress Women’s Writing by Joanna Russ
Leila Rasheed on diversity in children’s publishing.
Fred Clark on ‘communities of misconception’, unchallenged default assumptions, and how to respond when your assumptions are challenged.
Isabel Yap on Filipino monsters.
Tolkien’s annotated map of Middle Earth has been found.
We have a title and a release date for Samantha Shannon’s new Bone Season book: The Song Rising will be published in November, 2016.
Books I want to read
Kate Elliott talks about her new epic fantasy novel, Black Wolves, as part of John Scalzi’s ‘The Big Idea’ series.
Poetry and Short Fiction
‘Reasons I checked out of the diversity discussion du jour’ by M Sereno (content note for colonialism, homophobia and racism).
‘Song of the Body Cartographer’ by Rochita Loenen-Ruiz.
‘Hungry Daughters of Starving Mothers’ by Alyssa Wong.
Rebecca Merkelbach on outlaws, trolls and berserkers.
A bit US-centric, but I loved this article on the changing of librarian stereotypes throughout history.
No Award on imaginary Australia YA adaptations. (Caveat: I do not share their dislike of the Tomorrow series, although I can understand their perspective, and I also feel ambivalent about adaptations of stories that were/are meaningful to me. I still enjoyed the post.)
‘A Day In The Life of a Brooding Romantic Hero’ at The Toast.
I hope you all have fabulous weekends.
Posted by dolorosa12 in linkpost.
Tags: aliette de bodard, athena andreadis, australiana, chvrches, eleni tsami, evangeline walton, exilic spaces, in morningstar's shadow, ishtiyak shukri, kari sperring, marianne de pierres, music, parentingcreating, rochita loenen-ruiz, samantha shannon, sophie masson, tell them stories, to shape the dark
This week has been absolutely excellent for people saying brilliant, eloquent, important things.
To journey is to be human. To migrate is to be human. Human migration forged the world. Human migration will forge the future, writes Ishtiyak Shukri in ‘Losing London’. This was the post of the week for me, and affected me deeply.
We already have the table of contents, but now we have the cover of Athena Andreadis’s To Shape The Dark anthology, illustrated beautifully by Eleni Tsami.
I really loved this interview of Aliette de Bodard by Rochita Loenen-Ruiz: I’ve come to realize that “appealing to everybody” is a codeword for bland, unobjectionable stuff; or at the very least for something that doesn’t challenge the reader; and, just as I like to be challenged when I read, I would in turn like to do that to my readers!
Speaking of Aliette de Bodard’s writing, she’s put ‘In Morningstar’s Shadow’, the prequel short story to The House of Shattered Wings, up online for free. I read it last weekend and loved it.
I liked this essay by Marianne de Pierres on Australian myths in contemporary SF, but I’ve been worrying away at some of its conclusions for reasons I can’t quite articulate. Certainly I appreciate the recognition of Australian writing’s emphasis on the dystopian and post-apocalyptic, but I worry about her characterisation of the Australian landscape as universally barren, inhospitable and predatory. Let’s just say it is not so to all inhabitants of Australia, and is not represented as such in the stories of all Australians, although it is a really significant theme in Australian literature.
Sophie Masson wrote on authors in a changing publishing landscape. I smiled a little ruefully at this quote:
When my last adult novel, Forest of Dreams, came out in 2001, I was commissioned to write a piece for a newspaper on the historical background of the novel (a paid piece), and reviews of the book appeared in several print publications, despite its being genre fiction. When The Koldun Code, also genre fiction, came out in 2014, I had to write several guest posts for blogs, do interviews for online publications (all unpaid) and reviews only appeared online.
I did not review this book, but I did interview Masson and review several of her YA works for print publications, where I was paid for my work. Now I retweet links to her articles and review things exclusively online for free. Oh, how times have changed!
Authors who are parents have been posting about the experience. There are too many posts to include here, but you can find links to all of them at the #ParentingCreating hashtag.
The latest of Kari Sperring’s ‘Matrilines’ columns, on Evangeline Walton, is up. I’ve been finding these columns both illuminating – in terms of introducing me to many authors whose work sounds right up my alley – and disheartening, in that almost all of them were entirely new to me, instead of well-known figures in the SF canon.
I found this post by Samantha Shannon on judging a literary award to be a very interesting read.
In a departure from these posts’ usual content, I have a music recommendation: CHVRCHES’ new album Every Open Eye. It stops my heart, in the best possible way.
Posted by dolorosa12 in linkpost.
Tags: australiana, best young australian novelists 2015, catherine lundoff, emily st. john mandel, eurovision, game of thrones, irish politics, keri phillips, me elsewhere, naomi novik, natalie luhrs, representation matters, rochita loenen-ruiz, romanitas, sarah masle, sophia mcdougall, station eleven, tade thompson, the toast, zen cho
So. Lots of stuff to get through this week, as my corner of the internet has been particularly full of people doing wonderful, clever and awesome things.
Rochita Loenen-Ruiz had a busy week. Here’s Rochita on the uses of anger, her new short story, and being interviewed for Lightspeed magazine’s author spotlight.
Catherine Lundoff has had so many submissions to her ‘Older Women in SFF’ recommendations post that she’s had to split it into two. Part one, part two.
I really liked this review of Zen Cho’s writing by Naomi Novik.
This review by Sarah Mesle of the most recent episode of Game of Thrones made a lot of points I’ve been struggling to articulate. Content note for discussion of violence, abuse and rape.
I really appreciated this thoughtful post by Tade Thompson on safety, community and dissent.
Natalie Luhrs makes some really important points here:
This is part of the ongoing conversation about the importance of different voices in our community. About making space for people who have been told–explicitly and implicitly–that what they have to say isn’t worthwhile and that they need to sit down and listen and that someday, maybe, they’ll be allowed to speak.
This list of Best Young Australian novelists looks great, and reflects the Australia that I grew up in. Congratulations to all the winners!
I have to admit that the #hometovote hashtag has been making me cry.
I wrote two longish posts this week. One is here at the Geata: a review of Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel. The other is over on LJ/Dreamwidth, and is a primer to Sophia McDougall’s Romanitas trilogy.
My mother is a radio journalist. Her programme this week is on Eurovision, and you can listen to it here (not geoblocked). There are additional features here. I am an unashamed Eurovision fan, and as you can see, it runs in the family.
Texts from Hieronymous Bosch made me laugh and laugh.
Happy Friday, everyone.
Posted by dolorosa12 in linkpost.
Tags: aidan moher, ambelin kwaymullina, astrid lindgren, australiana, chimamanda ngozi adichie, daniel josé older, electra pritchett, laura mixon, nymeth, pride, rachel manija brown, representation matters, rochita loenen-ruiz, sarah rees brennan, sherwood smith, sumerian music, tell the wind and fire, tell them stories, the book smugglers, ya literature
Ambelin Kwaymullina talks about diversity in Australian YA literature.
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: ‘Fear of causing offense becomes a fetish’.
Here’s Daniel José Older on diversity, power and publishing.
Laura Mixon talks about building bridges and healing divisions.
Rochita Loenen-Ruiz talks about self-care and ‘staying in touch with the child-self’.
Aidan Moher discusses writing military SF without combat.
Astrid Lindgren’s Second World War diaries have been published in Sweden.
Ana of Things Mean A Lot reviews Pride in the light of the recent UK elections.
I love this review by Electra Pritchett of Stranger and Hostage by Rachel Manija Brown and Sherwood Smith:
If I had to pick a post-apocalyptic YA society in which to live, I’d pick the community of Las Anclas hands down, warts and all: rather than a hierarchical dystopian society where something random is outlawed and the government controls something else crucial to society, Las Anclas represents a kinder, gentler post-apocalypse. It’s not quite a utopia, except in the sense that everywhere in fiction is, but that’s precisely what makes it a believable and desirable place to live: its busybodies and jerks are notable because they’re not the only kind of people in the town, and dealing with them would be a small price to pay in order to live in such a supportive and inclusive place.
The upcoming publishing schedule at The Book Smugglers makes me so happy.
I am really looking forward to the publication of Tell The Wind And Fire, Sarah Rees Brennan’s latest book.
Via Sherwood Smith, listen to the oldest (recorded) song in the world.
Happy Friday, everyone!
Posted by dolorosa12 in linkpost.
Tags: adele geras, aliette de bodard, alyssa wong, athena andreadis, australiana, avengers: age of ultron, david anthony durham, dorothy dunnett, everyday monstrosity, fairytales, fantasy book cafe, greek history, historical fiction, joyce chng, kari sperring, poetry, sonya taaffe, sophia mcdougall, sophie masson, strange horizons, tell them stories, the history girls, turkish history, uncanny magazine, vanessa rose phin
Let us not talk of the UK election results – I have no words. Instead, let’s talk about something much more pleasant: the return of my weekly linkposts!
Unlike the rest of my corner of the internet, I didn’t have a massive problem with Avengers: Age of Ultron. Sophia McDougall and Sonya Taaffe probably get closest to articulating my own feelings on the subject.
Joyce Chng, David Anthony Durham and Kari Sperring (moderated by Vanessa Rose Phin) have some interesting things to say on ‘Representing Marginalized Voices in Historical Fiction and Fantasy’, at Strange Horizons.
Athena Andreadis talks about the uses and misuses of cultural traumas (in this case, her own, Greek culture) in fiction.
Aliette de Bodard talks about Dorothy Dunnett at Fantasy Book Cafe.
‘For the Gardener’s Daughter is a fabulous poem by Alyssa Wong, published in Uncanny Magazine.
On Sophie Masson’s blog, Adele Geras talks about retelling fairytales.
One of my friends and former academic colleagues has started a blog looking at popular representations of monsters.
The History Girls is not a new blog, but it is new to me. It’s the work of a group of women who are historical fiction writers.
Today is pretty grim, so I will leave you with footage of a koala roaming around a rural Victorian hospital.
Posted by dolorosa12 in blogging, linkpost.
Tags: alexandra pierce, amal el-mohtar, athena andreadis, australiana, catherine lundoff, jupiter ascending, jy yang, kari sperring, kate elliott, lackington's, likhain, malinda lo, octavia cade, rachel manija brown, representation matters, tell them stories, the book smugglers
This post is somewhat late, and as a result you may have seen some of the material included in it elsewhere. Hopefully, however, there will be enough new material for everyone to enjoy.
First up, a powerful post by Kari Sperring about the unseen, unromanticised ‘women’s work’ undertaken by older women. Athena Andreadis’ older post ‘Where Are the Wise Crones in Science Fiction’ is an excellent companion piece. Rounding off this trio of posts on older women, check out Catherine Lundoff’s (frequently updated) post of recommendations of SFF literature featuring older women.
I’ve really appreciated Malinda Lo’s series for Diversity In YA on perceptions of diversity in book reviews. There are currently two posts published of a three-part series.
Rachel Manija Brown is gathering recommendations for diverse literature. (Content note: discussion of abuse.)
I’m not eligible to nominate people for awards myself, but I am using Amal El-Mohtar’s nominations post as a source of recommendations.
As an Australian, I’m pleased to see that Alexandra Pierce has started writing a regular column at Tor.com on Australian and New Zealand SFF publishing news.
I’m a big fan of The Book Smugglers, as I find the blog a breath of fresh air and positivity in what can sometimes be a very negative internet. As such, I’m thrilled that their first foray into publishing has been a success, with a BSFA nomination for one of their short stories, ‘The Mussel Eaters’ by Octavia Cade.
The new issue of Lackinton’s is out. I’ve been enjoying reading through its stories, and particularly liked ‘Tiger, Baby’ by JY Yang, with art by Likhain. You can find links to further works by both writer and artist in the biographical information at the bottom of the story.
Finally, Jupiter Ascending was ridiculous, joyful fun. Kate Elliott thought so too.
Posted by dolorosa12 in blogging, linkpost.
Tags: a merc rustad, amal el-mohtar, australiana, fangirl happy hour, foz meadows, ladybusiness, natalie luhrs, no award, rocket talk, teen wolf
Welcome to what I hope will become a regular feature here at the Geata: weekly posts of links to wonderful things. There are no criteria for inclusion: the links will just be things that have caught my eye in any given week, but I’m trying to focus on positive and/or thought-provoking material from a diverse range of perspectives. This is all part of my goal of collaborative and community-building writing for this year.
It was a great week for SFF podcasts. I particularly enjoyed Amal El-Mohtar and Natalie Luhrs on Rocket Talk with Justin Landon, talking about all things blogging and reviewing.
Fangirl Happy Hour is a new project by Ana of The Book Smugglers and Renay of Ladybusiness. Their second podcast is on sex and romance in science fiction, nominations for the Hugo Awards and The Very Best of Kate Elliott (which has rocketed to the top of my wishlist).
Renay also wrote a fabulous, heartfelt post about being betrayed by stories that the rest of your community has universally praised. Read the comments too.
A. Merc Rustad’s short story ‘How To Become A Robot In 12 Easy Steps’ is something I didn’t realise I’d been wanting until now. Almost anything I could say here will be a spoiler, but I feel I should provide a content warning for depictions of depression.
Amal El-Mohtar’s short story ‘The Truth About Owls’ hurt my heart in the best possible way.
No Award is not a new blog, but it is new to me, and is a breath of fresh air. I’m often frustrated by the US-centrism of the online conversation on media and social justice, so I’m thrilled to find a blog by a pair of Australians tackling these issues from an Australian perspective.
Finally, I really appreciated Foz Meadows’ epic blog post on Teen Wolf. I don’t agree with all her conclusions, but I am particularly happy about her comments on Scott McCall, whose gentleness, kindness and adoration of powerful women goes against all the usual stereotypes about boys raised by single mothers.
I hope you all have fabulous weekends. Since Eurovision is officially upon us, why not generate your own Eurovision song title?
Posted by dolorosa12 in books, childhood, life, memories, reviews.
Tags: australia, australiana, dystopia, dystopian YA, earthsong, fire dancer, galax-arena, gillian rubinstein, jackie french, john marsden, my sister sif, parkland, ruth park, shinkei, skymaze, space demons, taronga, the music from the sea, tomorrow series, victor kelleher
I’ve always found it a combination of surprising and amusing when people talk about the recent dystopian YA boom as if it’s a new thing, as if Suzanne Collins plucked The Hunger Games out of the (dystopia-free) ether and opened the floodgates to a host of imitators. (Well, that’s sort of what happened, but that’s beside the point.) Growing up in Australia in the 90s, basically everything I read was dystopian, before I even knew what the word ‘dystopian’ meant.
The first author I got into in a major way (and who, indeed, has the dubious honour of writing the first novel-length book I ever read) was Jackie French, whose hippie-like existence in a small town near Braidwood informed her futuristic science-fiction novels for children. While she’s better known for other works, at age seven, my favourite books of hers were a five-part series, beginning with Music From the Sea, set in an Australia so parched by the sun that humans have become nocturnal and are living a lifestyle reminiscent of early farming/gathering societies. That somewhat gentle introduction to the ‘harsh Australian weather’ subgenre of dystopian literature led me to darker fare that mixed its narratives of personal and communal heroism with pointedly political calls to arms.
John Marsden’s Tomorrow series is the environmental-political Australian dystopian series par excellence. Beginning with a bang with Tomorrow, When the War Began (a title which implies that its story could happen on any particular tomorrow), this seven-book series follows the adventures of a group of rural Australian teenagers who return from a camping holiday in the bush to find that the country has been invaded, their hometown was the focal point of the invasion, and everyone they love has been rounded up and imprisoned in the local showground. The teenagers retreat to the bush and become a guerrilla resistance force, all the while agonising over whether their actions are just. Written against the backdrop of Indonesia’s occupation of East Timor, this series brought home the realities of war to an entire generation of Australian teenagers more used to thinking of conflict as something that happened ‘over there’.
I actually don’t think that the Tomorrow series is the best of 90s Australian dystopian YA fiction, although it has great emotional resonance and Marsden’s evocation of the Australian landscape, and the unease most Australians feel within it, is spot on. But the later novels lack the believability that made the first few so powerful, and an ill-advised spin-off trilogy means the series ends, if not with a whimper, not really with a bang either.
No, in my opinion, there is a three-way tie for the best stories of this genre between the works of Victor Kelleher, Gillian Rubinstein and one particular novel of Ruth Park’s.
Most Australians of my generation will be familiar with at least one book by Kelleher, Taronga, as it was widely studied in high school during our teenage years, but I’ve always felt Kelleher was tragically unrecognised. His trilogy beginning with Parkland, which I reviewed here a while back, is both a Cassandra-like warning and a hopeful shout of encouragement. In each book, in different ways, he wipes the slate clean, so to speak, recreating subtly different Gardens of Eden to see if, once tempted with consciousness, human nature could ever lead us anywhere other than destruction.
Gillian Rubinstein is also concerned with human nature in two very good series of hers, the Galax-Arena series and the Space Demons trilogy. I have blogged about Galax-Arena in relation to The Hunger Games already, so suffice it to say that the series is, at its heart, about the exploitation of (often poor, always defenseless) children at the hands of (often wealthy, always privileged) adults, and can be read as a metaphor for the way First World countries can only ‘live’ as well as they do by (figuratively) killing the Third World.
The Space Demons trilogy is a little different, because it uses its broader dystopian concerns as a backdrop on which to set four or five parallel coming-of-age narratives. Four (and later more) young people find themselves sucked into the virtual world of their computer games (and, in Shinkei, the third book, of cyberspace), within which they must resolve their numerous personal issues, and, as becomes increasingly apparent, the problems that beset the world. The final book reads like an idealistic call to arms, a plea to remember dreams in the face of privilege, cynicism, exploitation and fanaticism, and is one of the best intertwinings of the personal with the political that I have ever encountered.
Ruth Park’s My Sister Sif makes it onto this list simply because its dystopian nature isn’t immediately apparent, and the way it sneaks up on you is absolutely terrifying. You think you’re reading a fantasy book about family tensions, parental expectation and an island paradise populated by real-life mermaids, and then Park will give a throwaway reference to the characters having never seen a butterfly or a certain breed of animal because they’re extinct. It’s chilling.
Why, then, were Australian YA authors rushing down the dystopian road a good two decades before their (mainly American) counterparts? I have several theories, but what I’ve always felt was the mostly likely cause is the intersection of Australia’s bizarre geography and bizarre history and social mythology (mythology in the sense of stories people tell about themselves).
Australians cannot quite make up their minds about these things. On the one hand, there’s this weird sort of pride in the harshness of our landscape, and on the other, there’s the fact that very few Australians actually live in it. Australians, for the most part, cling desperately to the coastal cities, and yet there’s this constant awareness that just around the corner, there’s this vast, parched desert or dry bushland just waiting to be set on fire and burn your house to the ground. As an Australian, the recent climate change debate has always struck me as very odd because, well, if we were talking about global warming in my first grade class in 1991 and the salinity problems of the Murray-Darling basin in my fifth grade class in 1995, and the hole in the ozone layer since forever, it’s not as if suddenly clued-in politicians have only just become aware of it.
Couple this anxiety about the physical features of the land with a general sense of anxiety about the location of the land itself and about one’s place in it (and by this I mean that a dominant strand of the Australian mythos has always been an uncertainty about where and what Australia actually is***) and you get this narrative of discomfort and unease. Australian literature, by and large, does not feature people ‘lighting out for the territories’ in search of freedom and prosperity. Instead, one heads off into a hostile wilderness where general weirdness goes on.****
All this combined to make Australia a fruitful breeding ground for dystopian literature. When these novelists wanted to play around with their fears for the future, their belief in multiculturalism or political anxieties, the Australian experience provided a physical and mythological backdrop for the stories that arose. It would be wonderful if the new dystopian craze introduced these wonderful works to a wider audience.
* I know that’s not how you decline Greek.
** Also, this is not about Mad Max.
*** As demonstrated by the common use of ‘the West’ to describe a group of nations of which (usually Anglo, almost always white) Australians see themselves as part, despite the fact that the only place to which Australia is west is New Zealand.
**** Think Picnic At Hanging Rock. Think Walkabout.***** This is why the Tomorrow series is so powerful, because the civilised space of hearth and home has been rendered dangerous, and the story’s heroes find the normally hostile wilderness a welcoming haven.
***** This is, obviously, a literary trope mainly employed by white (usually Anglo) Australians, and I think stems from a sense of guilt at what was done to the indigenous inhabitants of the land which Australian culture (until very recently) felt profoundly uneasy examining in an open way. And so it was explored in this slantwise manner.