The Dream Café

Steven Brust: “A masterful storyteller of contagious glee and self-deprecating badassery” —Skyler White

Official Biography

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Every time I agree to attend a convention I’m asked to send along a biography, which would require writing one.  I figure, now that I’ve been in this business for 35 years, I ought to consider taking it seriously and actually have a bio I can send them.  I’ve written one up, and I reproduce it here so I can find it easily.

 

Steven Brust was born late in the Cenozoic Era at a place a mere 238,900 miles from the lonely, harsh desolation of the moon. From the moment of his birth, he launched a study of language, facial recognition, and tool using, while simultaneously beginning an intense regime of physical fitness.  He fell into a life of crime under the influence of Tuli, the Evil Dog of Evilness, a life which continued for many years.  At one point, aided by Captain Blondbeard the Space Pirate Kitty, he nearly succeeded in either taking over the world or destroying the universe, the record is unclear. The plot, which featured a machine (built by a mysterious parrot known only as “Doc”) that could predict the future, failed when the machine turned out to be only able to predict the plot of action movies. This led Brust to abandon his criminal activities and begin writing science fiction and fantasy novels. Only time will tell how much lower he’ll sink.

 

skzb

Author: skzb

I play the drum.

11 Comments

  1. I think you overlook how much you make people’s lives feel better, by, for example, this post. I was down because of a hospital appointment yesterday, and yet cheered up immensely. Now all we have to do is find the fountain of youth…

  2. skzb

    Thank you; glad tl help. Hope things go well.

  3. give up, not gave up.

    -editor

  4. Steven Karl Zoltán Brust—Hungarian Guest of Honor*

    by Fred A. Levy Haskell

    If you’re looking for the “standard bio” on Steven, you can look in one of his 12-1/2 books, most of which, I believe, are still in print, which, in itself, ought to tell you something. I will, if I might, direct you especially to the bio contained in The Phoenix Guards, which is, in my humble opinion, a book well worth owning, not to mention reading, not merely for the bio contained therein; by which statement, you must understand, I do not mean to belittle the worth of his other books, each of which is worth owning and reading for its own, not inconsiderable, merits, but, rather, to call your attention to this book, and bio, in particular. But you’re not looking for the “standard bio”—I can tell—you’re seeking an understanding of why Steven has been chosen to be the Hungarian Guest of Honor at Congenial V.

    Well, in Steven’s home hangs a reproduction of a painting he picked up in the Old Country. It is a portrait of a fellow who looks remarkably like Steven. They both have moustaches. This is not surprising—Steven assures me that the Hungarians invented moustaches.

    Steven plays guitar, banjo, dombak, and traps. In fact, he doesn’t just play ’em—he plays ’em well. Steven tells me that the Hungarians invented the guitar, the banjo, the dombak, and the traps; so I guess that fits right in. In fact, late one evening, after I had imbibed a number of glasses of Steven’s good single-malt Scotch whiskey (another Hungarian invention, according to Steven), I believe that he stated that the Hungarians invented almost all extant musical instruments, but the memory blurs, so I cannot be certain of this. However, I’m pretty sure that he claimed that the accordion and the concertina were invented, not by the Hungarians, but by the Roumanians. Either that, or they were the Work of the Devil. It really was very late….

    But I digress. Steven can frequently be found playing guitar, banjo, and/or dombak at convention parties long into the night, or even unto sunrise. Actually, it’s probably misleading to say that he can be found—heard might be a better word. Finding him, hidden, as he will be, by the horde of beautiful women who usually surround him, may be somewhat more difficult. If you look carefully, though, you might just be able to pick him out. He’s the one with the Hat. And the moustache. (I once asked Steven why he’s always surrounded by beautiful women. He explained that the Hungarians invented sex. Q.E.D.)

    And the traps. Steven plays traps with both Cats Laughing and Morrigan, when they are playing in their electric, or “rock and roll,” configuration. Steven avers that the Hungarians invented rock and roll, so it stands to reason. (When in their “acoustic” configuration, Steven plays the aforementioned dombak. Steven once mentioned in passing that the Hungarians invented acoustic, too.)

    All of this, of course, serves only to illuminate a tiny portion of this remarkable and polytalented individual. “So, all right,” I hear you ask. “How can I meet him?” Well, fortunately for you, Congenial has made this task easier by inviting Steven to be their guest this year. If you’d actually like to talk with him, well, Steven informs me that the Hungarians invented a really terrific way to meet authors and get them to talk to you: You simply walk up to them, wait for a pause in the conversation, and say, “I like your books. Can I buy you a drink?” Or, if you’re really Serious, offer to buy them a meal. Szechuan food would be particularly good for this option, as Steven vows that the Hungarians invented Szechuan cooking.

    Oh…. Did I mention that Steven is of Hungarian lineage?

    So, you know, look around for Steven at the convention, and have a good time. Steven, by the way, swears that the Hungarians invented both science fiction and science fiction conventions….

    *Written for Congenial 5, 1993; ©1993, 2004 Fred A Levy Haskell.

  5. What about the arrival and later, the second coming of the Hat?

  6. I now feel like I know your whole life story.

  7. skzb

    I remember that one, Fred. 🙂 I giggled. In a, you know, manly kind of way.

  8. That damned Doc. I’ve struggled for years to duplicate his efforts, yet so far _my_ machine is capable only of loosely interpreting the present. And occasionally postdicting the past.

  9. Pingback: Way Too Much Effort for a Cheap Joke | This Is

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