You know you’re at DragonCon when the line at the ATM includes a bard, a cat, and a steampunk pilot . . . and a Halo soldier, Tinkerbell, and Han Solo. This ATM just happened to be in the same spot where we encountered the androgynous Sailor Jupiter last year, the one with leg and facial hair that somehow didn’t clue me in as to his masculinity. No one has let me forget that, but I did learn an important lesson: when I saw the rather muscular Princess Peach today on an escalator, I checked the lifted skirt and lo and behold, saw some furry ankles. Yes, it was a man, and I figured it out all by myself.
The line to pick up prepaid badges was three hours long, and several complainers stood out in the crowd. No point in fussing when there’s nothing you can do, since the badge is the key to all that is the Con, so we snapped some photos and enjoyed the expressions of curious businessmen staring at us from the parking deck above. We watched Frodo have a smoke outside the Marriott, and overheard a young couple attempt to explain to a perplexed man in a suit exactly what DragonCon is. Good luck there – the Con is many things to many people, but it is above all a celebration of all that makes us the target for those who do not appreciate the value of fantasy and science fiction.
Exploring the Con after our happy acquisition of badges, we ran into Princess Leia and Han Solo in Empire gear – perfect for the thirty-year anniversary of my favorite Star Wars film. A man at the bottom of the escalator at the Hilton called out to a well-endowed woman in an elaborate black leather corset: “Are those real?” She proudly stuck out her chest as she stepped off and walked by, smiling towards the voice: “Oh, yeah, baby!” It’s all in good fun, and, hey, if you’re going to be offended by someone noticing that you’ve put body parts on display, you better choose different attire. Superman crossed our path more than once, one time with a dog he called Gracie who wore a matching cape. Later we caught him getting cozy with a blonde Supergirl, posing for photos. A steampunk trio escaped the crowd on a upper level lounge, playing cards spread out over two tables, as comfortable in their intricate costumes as most of us are in jeans and t-shirts.
Lines and more lines the first day put a limit on what one can attend, but I was determined to catch Mary Robinette Kowal read from her compelling Regency novel, Shades of Milk and Honey, which of course was over the river and through the trees, down a few escalators and several halls. This is when having a ten-year-old girl dressed like Angelic Layer’s Hikaru comes in handy – children have natural navigation skills. Kowal didn’t just read a chapter, she acted it, and explained how she came to record the audiobook version as well. With a dialect coach at her side to correct her every step of the way, as it happens - but, as she noted, the coach wasn’t there now, and so, she assured us with a smile, she was reading with a flawless British accent. Her Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth were hilarious in a non-laughing way, because, as she reminded us, one did not laugh out loud during the Regency era – it was considered provincial and gauche. Her characters do laugh, however, and she explained that this was not the only historically incorrect feature in her work. Her characters also say “hello” which was not used at the time, and “check,” which had a different meaning than that of Mr. Ellsworth when he mentions that he will check the strawberries. These mistakes, which might be caught by a militant Regency scholar, were understandably overlooked while Kowal worked at creating a fantasy that stayed within the bounds of a science that she meant to use to add to history, not change it. She explained the science behind the glamour used by her characters, an added treat that I did not expect after an entertaining read and puppet show based on an 18th century production – Broken Bridge – which made use of a Trader Joe’s box.
Kowal believes that her book, marketed as Jane Austen with a small bit of fantasy, is actually science fiction, and the cleverness and care with which she developed that science is obvious. Glamour is not a gender-based skill but primarily used by women because it is not considered a useful art and not worth a man’s time. Men do use it, however, in small but possibly dangerous ways, unlike the decorative and comforting ways to which women put it. She knew that she couldn’t allow them to create heat because using magic to actually create rather than perform an illusion would prevent necessary inventions, and she did not want to change history, just add a touch of magic to it, or as she joked, “Hello, history, let me break you!” There were difficulties in restraining glamour in this way, she said, and she caught herself before including acts that would have lasting effects on what we know of the Regency era and times following. Glamour is possible in the Regency world in which she places her characters, because long ago the fairy and mortal worlds were never separated, and everyone has a second sight – just some have clearer sight than others, like the brilliant glamourist Jane, who works hard at her illusions but also comes to the table with a natural gift. The actual glamour is worked on an electromagnetic spectrum, which makes working with heat and cold a problem – the thermodynamic transfer can be a bit risky. She mentioned that the first draft of Shades was a Nanowrimo work, and the original ending had a wedding just like the final one, but not with the same groom. Kowal passed out Regency-esque hand fans and signed them after she answered questions, and listened patiently as my daughter demonstrated our cat’s frimming expression. With how many authors can you discuss frimming, really?
