See my photos of TorCon3 here.
I was sitting at a table at the front of an ordinary room in the Toronto Convention Centre a few days ago, along with three other writers of children’s books. We had just begun a panel discussion on “Writing For Children” when in strolled a massive troll, gray as granite, with shoulders so wide he almost had to turn sideways to fit through the door. He made his way to the front of the room and sat down at the edge of the dais, facing the audience, where he remained while the literary discussion continued.
That’s the sort of thing that happens at the World Science Fiction Convention, a heady mixture of panels, events, awards, concerts, movies, gaming, workshops and parties that just wrapped up in Toronto.
This year’s event is the 61st World Science Fiction Convention. It’s the fourth I’ve attended, and the second time the event has been in Canada in the last nine years (the first WorldCon I attended was ConAdian, held in Winnipeg in 1994).
This year’s convention was dubbed TorCon3, because this is the third time the convention has been held in Toronto. The first was way back in 1948. The second was in 1974–one of the more interesting things screened at the convention was CBC TV’s coverage of that convention, whose guests of honor included Isaac Asimov and Robert Bloch (creator of, among other things, Psycho). This year’s Guest of Honor was George R.R. Martin, a very popular SF and fantasy author and also known for his work in TV on series such as The Twilight Zone (the second series, from the 1980s) and Beauty and the Beast. The Artist Guest of Honour was Frank Kelly Freas, although he suffered an accident not too long before the convention and was unable to make it. The Toastmaster was Canada’s own Spider Robinson. There was also a fan guest of honour, Mike Glyer, and even a GoHst of Honour–naturally enough, Robert Bloch.
WorldCon is so massive, with so many things happening at once at any given hour of the day (programming starts at 10 each morning and parties don’t wrap up until 2 or 3 a.m. or later) that the best way I can think of to give you a taste of it is just to tell you a little bit about what I did, personally.
First and foremost, I attended panel discussions. These are the heart of WorldCon. Panelists are typically writers, editors, artists, or scientists (or simply experienced science fiction fans, since one of things discussed at science fiction conventions is how to run science fiction conventions). It’s at the panels where you often first see writers who have inspired you for years. Robert Silverberg, one of the greatest writers in the field, was there; so was Hal Clement, an engineer-turned-SF-writer renowned for creating rigidly scientific alien worlds and creatures who could survive there. Both of these men were important in starting me writing: Robert Silverberg’s first book was a young adult novel entitled Revolt on Alpha C which was one of the earliest SF books I read; Hal Clement wrote a novel called Needle that I read several times as a youngster.
I was on two panels; on the first, “Day Jobs for Writers,” I talked about writing non-fiction to support my fiction writing; the second was the aforementioned “Writing for Children” panel, visited by the troll (which appeared, I should perhaps explain, because he is a character in some of the books written by one of the other panelists, Terry Pratchett, one of the U.K.’s bestselling novelists–somewhere behind J. K. Rowling, of course). I attended other panels on writing topics, such as “Synopses for Dummies” and one on “Writing Canadian Science Fiction.”
Other panels looked at the interface between science and science fiction. One of the Big Ideas in science fiction today is the concept of the Singularity, the idea that various technologies are advancing so rapidly that within a few decades at most they will produce such an enormous change in humanity that we are completely incapable of predicting or even understanding what humans and society will be like on the other side. Nanotechnology, genetic engineering, artificial intelligence–any one of these could produce the Singularity, or they could work together to produce it. This idea was first set forth by a SF writer, Vernor Vinge, and other current writers, such as Charles Stross, have continued to work with it.
Interestingly, the day after I attended a panel on the topic, the Globe and Mail ran two contrasting essays on the concept of transhumanism–the idea that what it means to be human will be radically altered by technology. There was no mention by either of them of science fiction–but it was SF that presented the idea in the first place and continues to explore it.
There were also a number of panels on straight science topics, although my schedule and other activities prevented my attending very many of them. I’ll just mention a few titles, though, to give you the flavor: “Forensics in the 21st Century,” “Killer Asteroids,” “Quantum Dots and Programmable Matter,” “Year in Review: Computer Technology,” “Genetic Engineering in Agriculture.” There were also discussions of what future society might be like: “The Future of Education,” “Beauty in the Near and Far Future,” “The Death of Money,” “Five Living Generations: The Social Effects of Longevity.”
There were writing workshops (I was a critiquer for one session) concerts of “filk” music (think folk music with a SF or fantasy or horror theme), a costume competition (the troll wasn’t in the competition, by the way; that was a “hall costume,” or a costume meant to be worn around the convention), an art show, featuring art from everyone from hopeful amateurs to established professionals, and, of course, there was a dealer’s room, selling books, jewelry, books, videos, books, T-shirts and, of course, books.
And then there were the awards. The Aurora Awards, Canada’s national fan-chosen awards for science fiction and fantasy writing, aren’t always handed out at WorldCon, but they were this year; Karl Schroeder won the best English novel award and Jean-Louis Trudel the best French novel award. Other awards handed out included the Sidewise Awards for best alternate history writing, the Heinlein Award for the best SF or technical writing promoting humanity’s future in space–and, finally, the biggies, the Hugo Awards, for best science fiction and fantasy of the year. The fans who attend WorldCon both nominate the finalists and choose the winners of the Hugo Awards–and this year’s award for Best Novel, a gold-plated rocket ship with a split wooden maple leaf forming the flames of its launching, went to Canada’s own Robert J. Sawyer for his novel Hominids, the first in a trilogy in which a portal opens in Sudbury between our world and another where Neanderthal, not Cro-Magnon, humans survived and built a modern society. The trilogy explores how the world might have been different–better in some ways, worse in others–had that taken place, and provides plenty of opportunity for Sawyer to examine our society, and question some of our unspoken assumptions about how it works.
That was a high point for me, since I’ve enjoyed Sawyer’s work very much and have had the opportunity to come to know him personally. It was also great to see a Canadian win at a convention in Canada. But the true emotional high point for me, I think, was Spider Robinson’s speech at the start of the Hugo ceremony.
As you’ve probably gathered, science fiction is a very diverse field. Its devotees range from extreme libertarians to socialists, so it will never be a political movement. Some of those who attended WorldCon probably don’t read much science fiction at all, being focused much more on fantasy, in the tradition of J.R.R. Tolkien.
And yet, I think there is still one idea that has defined science fiction from the start, and continues to drive much (though certainly not all) of the work being produced today: space travel.
These seem like dark days for the U.S. space program. As Spider Robinson pointed out, he was absolutely certain, in 1969 when Apollo 11 landed on the moon, that he would see people on Mars in his lifetime. He’s not so sure any more.
But we will stay in space. We have to, for the sake of the species, and for the sake of this planet. Eventually, we will take another step out from this planet–and then another one after that, and another after that.
Two million years ago, some naked ape on the African savannah looked up into the night sky and longed to touch the stars. That same dream captured my imagination as a child, and started me reading science fiction. It’s a dream I’ll never give up.
Dreams are usually solitary things. But last weekend in Toronto, I met with thousands of others who share that dream. And that, ultimately, is what WorldCon is all about.
