The Vorkosigan Companion - Lillian Stewart Carl [79]
So this will have to be an article about what Bujold fandom looks like to me, here and now,3 as someone who has been an active, vocal, passionately engaged member of it for nearly a decade. (I feel as though I'd like to write an article dedicated to explaining why each and every one of you ought to come and join us, but the fact is that if you're reading this you're probably already a Bujold fan, and if you aren't you should stop reading this and go read Cordelia's Honor, because then you will be. No, seriously. We'll wait. Then come and find us on the list, or on Baen's Bar, or just poke about on Google until you find a group that appeals to you—Bujold fans are fairly easy to find, and generally friendly.)
So. Here and now, I am writing this article, which is I suppose a form of participating in Bujold fandom, and the way I got—and found out about—the job strikes me as as good a place as any to begin. Always begin at the end; it saves time.
I was on my way from London to Bath, through a flood, when my e-mail caught up with me. Lillian Stewart Carl needed someone to write an article about Bujold fandom for The Vorkosigan Companion, Lois thought I might be both suitable4 and interested, she e-mailed fellow-listee James Bryant, because she knew I was on my way to his house, and he, knowing that I was checking e-mail off and on, forwarded the message to me.
I was on my way to his house in the first place because of Lois. Because one of the things about being a member of the List is that you can go to a place you've never been before and someone will pick you up at the bus terminal (airport, train station), feed you, house you, and throw a party, which between three and sixty of your closest friends will attend. You may have to ask most of them which friend they are, mind you, but you'll almost certainly have an excellent time. (If James Bryant is involved, you will not only have an excellent time, you are likely to be given curry. Incredibly good curry, prepared under all sorts of odd circumstances—he made curry for thirty or so in a hotel-room kitchenette, once—is a specialty of his.) So there I was, in a country I'd never been to before, going to the house of a listee, to meet up with other listees, most of whom I'd never met face-to-face before—which made them what listee Dorian Gray, who was there, calls "axe murderers." It was a splendid gathering of axe murderers, by the way.
Since 1999, this has been the sort of thing that happens to me on a fairly regular basis. Not the part where I get asked to write about Bujold fandom, the other part. The part with the parties and the really good food: for some reason, Bujold fandom seems to have an unusually high concentration of extremely good cooks.5 Also the part involving being offered sofas by—or offering them to—people I've never actually seen in person before. (Which has been known to involve the part where I end up burbling on to Immigration Officials about why they need to read some Bujold, and giving them the mailing list URL. Note to international travelers: "We're fellow members of a literary discussion group" is just as true as and works much better than "I met him/her/them on the Internet." Axe murderers, again.)
I am assured that it's not just me: my girlfriend—whom I met on the Bujold list—called me a few years back, at midnight, to tell me that she was stranded in New York City, her train had been late, she'd missed her connection, she was short of cash, were there any listees nearby? She had a place to stay in fifteen minutes. This sort of thing happens on the List.
The funny bit was, the person I got hold of wasn't even an active listee. That happens all the time, too; we're not exactly the Mailing List California, but we don't necessarily consider a failure to post or remain subscribed, even should said failure last for several years, evidence that a person has actually, you know, left. I mean, it's not that we'll stalk you, but if you find yourself in hospital, or Iraq, or somewhere, there may be phone calls and