Proper Boskonian Table of Contents The Editor Speaks Writes 4 Mac (Joseph M. Freehan) (fiction) 5 Hollywood Cliches (Ian Gunn) 9 LAcon III 1996 (Evelyn Leeper) 10 Film Presentations at LAcon III (Mark Leeper) 33 Space*Time Buccaneers, Episode 3 (Ian Gunn) 37 John M. Ford—A Bibliography (Deborah Snyder) 41 Zineophile (Bob Devney) 44 The Final Reflection—K Touch of Fresh (Lloyd Penney) 50 Letter(s) of Comment 51 Front cover aid by Brad Foster Back cover art by Patricia Pierce-Phillips Intenor illustrations by lan Gunn . Official Notices Proper Boskonian is still trying to catch up to being a quarterly (or semi-annual) genzine of the New England Science Fiction Association. Send contributions (writing, art, ads, and/or letters) to: Proper Boskonian NESFA PO Box 809 Framingham, MA 01701 or our NEW electronic address: [email protected] All opinions expressed herein are those of the individual contributors, and do not represent the views of NESFA. .Ml articles and artwork are copyrighted 1997 by their creators, and reprinted here by their permission. One copy of Proper Boskonian is free to each NESFA member and contributor; additional copies are available through NESFA for $3.00 each, unless youTe nice to me, in which case it’s free. Write: More letters of comment so This zine wont HAVE TO RESORT To Pointless illoes like this! Proper Boskonian 3 The Editor Speaks-Writes by Lisa Hertel Greetings! I am the current editor of Proper Boskonian, and this is the Fall of 1976 issue. It’s just two decades late Thankfully, a lot has changed in those two decades. First of all, I’m no longer a high school student (there, now don’t you feel young/old?). Secondly, computers and software have come a long way. This issue was laid out entirely in PageMaker 6.0, allowing such niceties as text wrapping around in-line art, consistent headings, headers, footers and fonts, and other sorts of geeky' things that make editors happy. I welcome comments, suggestions and hints on the layout. True geeks will want to e-mail me at [email protected], while the more old-fashioned sorts can use a quill pen. In this issue... For PB 39,1 am pleased to present a work of fiction, Mac, by Joseph M. Frcchan. This is an enchanting yet thought­ provoking short story about believing in dreams, amongst other things. 1 hope to include more short fiction in the future. Please be sure not to miss it. For t hose of you who missed LAcon, we have a thorough report on it, courtesy of the world-famous fan writer Evelyn Leeper. (For those of you who wonder how she can take so many notes, 1 will tell you her secret: she lakes her laptop to programming.) Accompanying Evelyn’s annual Worldcon report is her husband’s 1996-7 film/TV preview. Mark Leeper is very knowledgeable, and as complete as his wife. Both reports are peppered with art from Ian Gunn. Speaking of Ian Gunn, we also have the next installment of I he Space*Tin>e Buccaneers. These will continue to be pub­ lished, one episode at a time, in each PB. There are twelve of the in all; al this rale, I hope you will see them all by (he end of the century. He has also provided us with some Hollywood Cliches to enter­ tain us. Gunn’s inimitable style has made him a Hugo nominee many times; and his prolific pen provides plenty of source material. Another prolific pen returns in Bob Dcvney’s Zineophile, his fanzine review. Bob also graces us with the only Letter of Comment, although 1 hope to get more for the next issue. And old friend. Bob has agreed to keep reviewing fanzines for me so long as NESFA keeps receiving them, also hope to get more reviews from Lloyd Penney. This issue, he looks at a book from Boskone 34 s Guest of Honor, John M. Ford. The Final Reflection is a most unusual Star Trek novel, and well worth reading. For those of you who want to read more of Ford's work, check out the annotated Ford bibliography by Boskone 34 chair Davey Snyder. I would very' much like to thank all the contributors for their time and effort, and especially that unsung hero, Ken Knabbc, FN. Ken will still be assisting me on acquiring materials and operating the old Gestctncr for two-color covers, although his move to Providence will limit his abilities. Up and coming... For the next PB, I hope to entice you with another Zineophile, as well as more of Ian Gunn’s Space’Time Buccaneers. In addition. Evelyn Leeper contributes a trip report that has nothing to do with conventions — instead, she’s off to Japan. The trip actually occurred in October of 1996. I also hope to have more reviews, and the list of NESFA Hugo recommendations. As always, I am open to suggestions and comments. The deadline for the next issue is the Ides of March (3/15/97). I hope to hear from you soon! Legalese “Boskone” is a registered service mark of the New England Science Fiction Association, Inc, (NESFA), PO Box 809, Framingham, MA 01701, USA, a Massachusetts 501(c)3 non-profit literary' organization. “Worldcon”, “World Science Fiction Convention”, “WSFS”, “World Science Fiction Society” and “Hugo Award” are service marks of the World Science Fiction Society (WSFS), an unicorporatcd literary society. Contents copyright 1977 by the New England Science Fiction Association, Inc., except where individual contributor's copyright take precedence.___________ _______ _______———=== 4 Proper Boskonian Mac by Joseph M. Freehan On the way home from the funeral Barbara says, “Grandma, Florida will do you good.” “That’s right,” Tony says. “Florida will not do me good,” I say “I'm not leaving the farm.” “But you can’t run dial big old place without Grandpa,” Barbara says. “What’s so wonderful about Iowa, anyway? Why won't you come and live with us in Florida?" The limousine moves like a barge on a sluggish river, I am drowsy, and I do not want to think about Florida. “I’ve got my reasons,” I say. trying to forestall the conversation. Barbara turns in a huff and looks out (he window. She wants to get me into a retirement home so Tony can inherit the farm, and then she can sell it without having to wait for me to die. Tony can see she’s upset, but can’t imagine why. “There’s that old hill of Grandpa’s,” Barbara says, pointing out the window. She turns to me. “That’s why you won’t go, isn’t it?” “I don’t know what you’ rc talking about,” I say. “Yes, you do. You and Grandpa were always whispering about that damn hill. You think I didn’t know? I always knew you and your big secret. Grandpa would have told me the whole story, but you wouldn’t let him. Don’t tell die daughter-in­ law. right?” “I never slopped him telling, and it was never a secret really,” I say. “It was just something for him and me.” ‘"What secret?” Tony asks. His big moon face stares al me like a caricature of his father. Barbara gets that look in her eyes, like she can hypnotize me and make inc tell all. It makes me chuckle. “There was a man we called Mac,” 1 say. Barbara’s eyebrows go up hopefully. “Nowadays you would call him an alien, like from another planet, but this was back in the thirties you know, and back then we weren’t smart enough to call him an alien. We just called him Mac.” Barbara turns her back to me and stares out (lie window at the cornfields, her neck stiff, her hands clapped lightly in her lap. Tony just stares. 1 smile, Tony glances al Barbara and lugs at his car. His attention turns off as if Ills ear were a switch. Barbara will not look at either of us. We’ll be home soon, to a house full of friends and family. I lean my head back on the soft padding of the seat and rest my eyes. When I was seventeen I thought I had an understanding with a boy named Davey. He was nineteen. He was going to marry me and take me away to Chicago. I was desperate to see the big city, hard limes or no. But that summer Mamma and Pappa were coming home from a dance in town when Pappa wrecked the truck. He was hurt pretty bad. Mamma died. One night a few weeks after the wreck, Davey and I were walking down the dirt road that led to town. Davey held my hand like it might fly away or something. 1 thought he was fixing to kiss me. His daddy’s corn was standing tall on one side of the road, and my daddy’s com was standing tall on the other. We were as alone as two people can get in the summer. Davey said, “Mary, I can’t wait.” “Can’t wait for what?" He looked away as if there were something to see other than corn. “I’ll send for you," he said. “I’ll send you a ticket just as soon as your Pa is back on his feet.” “You’re leaving me here?" Davey kicked a clod oul of his way. He had on his big boots, all scuffed and muddy. “I don’t want to be trapped here,” he said.