Marta
Book Cover for 'A Children's Crusade'
Rai
Jorja
Nurse G
The Dome (detail)
Priya
Alphane life (detail) , dome in distance
Senhora Daguia
Book Cover for 'The Leftover Girl'
Pseudo-crustacean
Su Ying
Pseudo-shrubs (detail)
Planet
Planet Surface (Detail)
Han

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Category: Altered states

Caught in the slipstream?

Caught in the slipstream?

I Have just come across a new literary genre, ‘slipstream’, of which I’d previously been unaware. I was guided to it by the work of Anna Kavan, a literary hero of mine, when I paid a tribute to the style and language of her most famous novel, Ice, by pastiching it at the beginning of chapter twenty of Maya. I’d previously always regarded Anna Kavan as a science fiction writer (albeit a very strange one), but when I looked up her Wikipedia article, I found out that apparently she’s now classified as part of the Slipstream movement, the term being coined by cyberpunk author Bruce Sterling in 1989.
This has led me to research the genre via Wikipedia in order to see if some of what I write falls within this classification…
If we look at the characteristics ascribed to slipstream genre fiction and compare it that which characterises my fiction we should be able to answer that question.
Firstly a health warning; Lights in the sky, as I’ve argued a number of times in this blog, shifts between genres in the course of each book (sometimes in the course of an individual chapter), which in itself is postmodernist.
Slipstream fiction is often seen as the ‘literature of strangeness’ and will employ epistemological and ontological questioning of the nature of reality. Epistemology interrogates the distinction between objective and subjective viewpoints; my fiction constantly (from chapter twelve of A Children’s Crusade onwards) contrasts these two modes. Ontology is essentially about the nature of being, which has become the principal concern of Lights in the sky.
James Patrick Kelly and John Kessel, editors of Feeling Very Strange: The Slipstream Anthology argue slipstream makes use of cognitive dissonance (i.e. simultaneously holding two or more contradictory beliefs, values, or attitudes). I’m not sure I really do that in my fiction, if we disregard the truism that such contradictory thinking is a part of the human condition.
Kelly and Kessel go on to argue that slipstream disrupts the realist narrative, avoids the traditional fantasy tropes, and is essentially postmodernist in form.
I’d say probably one out of three on this count…
I embrace traditional fantasy tropes rather than avoiding them, what I tend to do is make creative use of the archetypes contained within them (mainly derived from folk tales and mythology), and refer to them to add depth to my prose.
I also think that I strive to make those parts of the narrative that sit in the real world realistic, although this is not (I think) literary realism in the nineteenth century sense. I’m not constantly disrupting this narrative, rather there are two narrative spaces within all of my recent novels, two narrative streams that run on parallel; one is the physical world, the other a liminal space which intrudes into the ‘real world’ in the form of dreams and visions, but sometimes supplants the everyday world. Tata’s stay amongst the Tupi people when she believes she exists outside of time, is an example of this.
What I do acknowledge are the various postmodernist elements to my writing…
I won’t go through all of the postmodernist aspects present in my ouvre as I’ve discussed these at length in previous blogs, but for the purposes of this blog I will focus on three of them.
I make use of an unreliable narrator on occasion (Nancy, in case you hadn’t noticed), my text embodies the use of paradox (a recent example being Joel’s contention at the start of chapter twenty, ‘…the paradox inherent in technology…is that it makes the world available to us (in an unprecedented way!) while simultaneously destroying it…’, and I frequently employ a fractured narrative…
So what’s my conclusion?
I don’t think that what I write is slipstream, I merely make use of some of the techniques that form the basis of this genre. But I also make use of techniques and narrative forms from multiple genres. If I were to characterise my fiction I would say it is mainstream science fiction with a postmodern sensibility…
’Til next time
The Author – July 2019

Blog entry twenty five: …one door closes?

Blog entry twenty five: …one door closes?

I’ve finished Lights in the sky…maybe…

As usual, I can’t go more than a couple of weeks without writing something, so I found myself writing a short story!

This is called (at the moment) Italian Dreams and it takes place in Venice… Now this is a Venice of the imagination, but I have visited the real place, but the last time was twenty years ago, at least…

This is my second short story (the other one, The North Gate being set in Devon!), and it may go out under my other imprimatur, Stephen Clare…except, the tale, anticipating as it does ecological disaster, could be fitted into the Lights in the sky universe…

I haven’t decided, but I know there’s a trap here! Good writers have in the past succumbed to trying to shoehorn everything they write into one Grand Design (Isaac Asimov is the example that springs to mind), so I may keep this one separate…

Anyway, it’s good to write something that is unarguably mainstream fiction…

The main source material for the story is a recurring dream I had for many years, but I also make use of the (ample) pre-existing sources contained in film and literature concerned with the place…

But LITS is not going without a fight! I’ve conceived a series of short stories (provisionally called Tales from the Collapse), that will fill in the some the gaps left by the main narrative, and relate the histories of many of the minor characters…

First up (assuming Italian Dreams stays separate), is a short story that could well become a novella about Helen Choi’s creation, Clara, the first of the self-aware AI units…

C.E. Stevens    September 2017      

Blog entry twenty three: On the road

Blog entry twenty three: On the road

On the road is the first chapter of The leftover girl, a companion volume to the Lights in the sky trilogy. This chapter is now available on this website as a taster for the new and so far uncompleted novel.
The title is an obvious literary reference, but our hero is an independent young woman rather than stereotypical male character normally found in the ‘road’ genre. We’ve met Tata before, and her narrative picks up a few months after when we last saw her, at the end of chapter five of The lost colony.
The novel is cast as a picaresque with Tata as the roguish proletarian heroine living on her wits among the corruption of post-Collapse Earth. She can shoot, fix her truck, scavenge, find work and fuel etc…
Occasionally she uses her body as part of the transaction, but always on her own terms. We learn little about why she’s on the road, apart from that she is fleeing unspecified ‘trouble!’ We do learn that she has hopes and dreams, poorly defined though these are…
The opening chapter also introduces to the post-Collapse world, characterised by migration, lawlessness, and the sense that towns and cities are becoming more isolated as communication between them breaks down.
The narrative takes the form of a picaresque odyssey as our hero journeys west from Olinda, her home of the last fifteen years, into the interior. We are introduced by dream sequence and flashback to one of the other narratives that will constitute the novel.
A dream the adult Tata has, while sleeping out under the stars in the high sierra, introduces us to her childhood self. We learn about her relationship with her over-protective mother, and we are also introduced to the other woman in her life, her mysterious benefactor, Mrs Choi. If this all seems rather Dickensian, this is, of course, my intention. The leftover girl is an adventure story; the emphasis here is on story, as much as on character, form, or mood. Lots of things happen, and the action is episodic, but this deliberate!
The plot of the opening chapter concerns itself with two chance encounters; firstly, with the mechanic who sells her the methanol she needs to move onwards in her quest. Tata doesn’t have the money to buy all the fuel she needs, so they settle on a different kind of trade. Although brief and perfunctory, the exchange has long term consequences that only become clear later on.
Her second encounter, with refugee family from Venezuela, lasts much longer (in fact it temporarily interrupts Tata’s quest), and has far more emotional resonance, especially as it reminds our hero of what she has lost. But in the end, the urge to move forward overcomes the temptation to stay, as Tata runs away again…
C.E. Stevens – March 2017

Blog entry twenty two: O brave new world

Blog entry twenty two: O brave new world

O brave new world is the suitably emotional climax to volume one, and is now available on this website. I make no apologies for pulling out all the stops on this one! The title is (of course) taken from Miranda’s speech in The Tempest, and was adapted by Aldous Huxley as the title of his famous novel.
In full the couplet reads ‘O brave new world, That has such people in’t!’
In the same way that Shakespeare’s ingenue marvels at the strange new visitors to her father’s island without being aware of the secrets they are concealing, the Children on Alpha 5 have hitherto marvelled at their world without comprehending its darker side…
The chapter marks the start of their disillusionment…
The title is doubly pertinent given the parallels between the eugenics practised in Huxley’s book, and the peculiar circumstances of the Children’s conception!
And at the end of volume one the world is remade, in a way that could not have been foreseen when the novel opened…
The shock and sorrow the crew feel after their friend Sal’s death is palpable to me, and I hope it comes over as forcefully to the reader; I have also tried to put across the new and unwelcome awareness of their own mortality that our little band all feel, as well as dramatising the sheer banality of what we experience in grief and loss…
Significantly it as Jorja who makes the overtures to Marta in the immediate aftermath, not the other way ’round. They have a mutual interest, the welfare of their friend, but it is the younger girl who has maturity, sensitivity and understanding to realise what is needed. This marks a change in Jorja, she’s growing up and making a conscious effort to become a better person, in the aftermath of her experience in the Barrier Range.
Marta, on the other hand, raises another nagging doubt about the benevolent intentions of the Nurses in their conversation on the way back to the Dome, although this is not immediately followed up.
Both girls find their new intimacy awkward, but grief makes strange bedfellows!
There are also further indications of Alphanian sentience (and, for the first time, possible benevolence) in their actions at the crash site, although Han, typically, is sceptical!
A few days later, we have a heartbreaking scene when Priya finally articulates her loss to Marta, together with her feelings of guilt that she wasn’t there to save him!
With the funeral coming up Jorja and Marta have to take charge and more or less shanghai Priya, forcing her to attend Sal’s funeral.
I’m also proud of this scene; both visually (where I reference the Lon Chaney film version of Phantom of the Opera), and for its dialogue.
Nurse Gee stage manages the event, and is of course, in her element! We learn that Salvatore was a practising Roman Catholic, and Marta’s observation as she views his corpse is based on personal experience.
Marta then makes a great speech where she articulates not just the grief our community feels, but also their collective hopes and fears in the troubling new world they find themselves in.
There are of course shades of Romeo and Juliet in Priya’s last goodbye to her love…
Time moves on; we join Marta and Jorge in a discussion which moves beyond the personal into metaphysics, as our heroine explains fully for the first time her new understanding of the world. This takes in predestination, the true meaning of her vision of the Midgard Serpent, and an overt reference to the ‘lights in the sky!’
Later they put their ‘modest proposal’ to Nurse Gee, and are surprised to find she is in full agreement with their plans. Later Marta is cynical about the reasons for Gee’s new enlightened viewpoint; the main narrative closes with Nurse Gee’s ringing declaration that signals a new chapter in the life of the Mission.
But we end with the vision Marta experiences when she links again with the Alphane sentience, foreshadowing some of what is to come later on…
So there we have it, book one closes, but plenty more to come…

Blog entry twenty one: Making amends

Blog entry twenty one: Making amends

Making amends is very much the morning after the night before, when the consequences of Marta’s actions come home to roost. I misquote Genesis 1:1 in the opening passage (substituting world for Earth. as we are on another planet!).
Marta comments that the greyness she thought confined to her dreams has now penetrated everywhere; it has become actual, and has now invaded her waking hours! This is a reference (obviously) to the ‘…grey plain on which…[she]…walked forever…’ from Sleeping Beauty, and the imagery will probably be familiar to readers of the works of Philip K Dick.
The following day she observes, ‘…Now everything was sharp and painful…’ (in contrast to the peace she felt during her suicide attempt), ‘…[and] the world felt raw pitiless and unforgiving…’
I owe a debt here to the writers of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, specifically the scene in Season six when Buffy tells Spike of the struggle she faces just to keep on living after being returned from Paradise. This is not to suggest that Marta’s actions were justified, or that she was necessarily bound for a better place, merely that she sought release from a life she found intolerable…
Our heroine is left to her own devices for a day and half after waking from her coma; Nurse Gee comes to see her but merely informs her that she has been sedated and must sleep, the nursemaid tending to her does not (and maybe cannot speak!). The implication is that Marta is being made to confront her actions (and perhaps repent!).
When people do finally come to see her her their reactions are very different…
Priya is angry, and the scene where she castigates her friend for her selfishness and her thoughtlessness (and ask her why she doesn’t want to live!), still makes me cry…
Nurse Gee is next; as befits a machine she is not judgemental or emotional, in fact she is impressed by Marta’s insight, perception and initiative in solving another piece of the puzzle that is the Children’s origins!.
This is not the reaction that Marta was expecting, but gives me as author the opportunity to provide more background and furnish explanations for what has transpired, by putting this in the mouths of the main characters…
Jorge is next, and he’s scared because he thinks he’s lost her! But when he realises that he hasn’t, that she does now want to live, then their relationship begins to return to familiar patterns and they begin to speculate; this time on the nature of the Alphanian intelligence. This again is a device for putting across what could be indigestible information in a natural way; they are scientists after all, and one of the main ways they relate is through science!
Finally Nurse Amber appears with the twins, and she reproves Marta for her selfishness and stupidity, reminding her (like Priya) that she is now a mother and has a responsibility to her children. As Marta ruefully observes,
‘…my conscience is machine, who’d have thought it…!’
When we reach the coda, time has passed and things have returned to normal; Priya is proposing that they have ceremony, a formal recognition of the unions between all the couples, and is seeking Marta’s support for this!
But the chapter ends on a darker note, setting up a cliffhanger for chapter 22…

Blog entry twenty: The young person’s guide to time

Blog entry twenty: The young person’s guide to time

This blog is designed to be read in conjunction with chapter twenty, The young person’s guide to time, now published on this website. The title is a riff on Benjamin Britten (for all you classical buffs), although I think it’s something of a misnomer; as our heroine is not being confronted with the true nature of time (at least not in this chapter!), but rather the true nature of her existence!
The opening section of chapter twenty was written several months before I reached this stage in the story; so there was always an element of trying to find a narrative pathway through to that particular moment in time, the moment when Marta has to confront the fact that she is not a unique individual, that she is not even a ‘real’ child. This serves to dramatise the fears that all children have at some point in their development; that they are not in fact the offspring of their parents, that they have no place in the world, that they are not special, and that no-one actually loves them!
When I first re-read this chapter I thought I had gone over the top; thinking that Marta’s reaction was too extreme given the circumstances! But while editing for publication I’ve changed my view!
My reaction was partly emotional; as I found (after a period of ambivalence), that I was moved once more, as I had been when I originally wrote the piece! But this was also an intellectual response; because when you factor in the peculiar nature of Marta’s upbringing (as a child with no parents), and combine that with all the traumas (admittedly, mostly self-inflicted) that she has had endure so far in her life, her suicidal impulse is entirely predictable…
But I do think I have put my heroine through too much; in the process stretching dramatic license to the limit ( this is fiction after all!), and if some hypothetical future editor were to suggest changes, one I would probably agree to would be reducing the number of times she is placed in mortal danger…
I like the language in the passage that opens the chapter; the moment when Marta concludes that she’s essentially a forgery achieves the lyricism that I strive for, and the rest of the chapter is basically a flashback to the events that led her to that revelation.
I also decided to lift the lid on the true nature of the Nurses (peeking behind the scenes of the Alpha Mission), presenting Six Gee as ‘she’ actually is, rather than how she presents herself to the Children.
The ‘Eve’s Rib’ passage in Marta’s final remembered dream is an obvious play on Christian creation mythology, Marta also misquotes Matthew 5.29 in line seven; and, of course, her first words (which also close the chapter), are adapted from Shylock’s speech in The Merchant of Venice!
As I mentioned, I went through a period where I became ambivalent about this chapter, thinking it was too melodramatic; but now I think that it is important to demonstrate that there are psychological consequences to the kind of trials that the Children undergo. All too often in contemporary televisual SF, the main characters experience things that would have most of us in therapy for the rest of their lives, without any apparent psychological damage; and I wanted a counterbalance to this.
It’s also important to stress that Marta is now ‘different’; she has grown-up, and views her world (the Mission, her companions, her partner, and Alpha 5 itself!), with a new kind of detachment, that distances her from everybody else.
And this is important for what is to come…
Happy Reading

Blog entry nineteen: Recovery

Blog entry nineteen: Recovery

In chapter nineteen we’re back in the real world with a vengeance, and the consequences of Marta’s willfulness have become apparent…
The scene in the desert owes much to Wim Wenders classic arthouse film Paris, Texas, and the line ‘…her eyes fixed on her own far horizon’ is adapted from the lyrics of a song I wrote in the 1980’s while under the spell of that particular movie.
The landscape of Alpha 5 again becomes a character in its own right, with the scale and implacability of the landscape contrasted with the insignificance, frailty and sheer ephemerality of individual human lives.
A friend of mine recently said to me, ‘…I wish we could all go to your planet!’ and she hits the nail on the head, Alpha 5 is a means of escape (for me as much as anyone!), from a scary and increasingly hostile world; but I would like to make the point that although A5 is a refuge (both metaphorically and literally!), the ‘real world’ is still presented in this novel (most notably in chapter twelve), and the likely future consequences of our present actions are laid bare…
But this, after all, is the role of science fiction (or it should be!), the genre providing an escape from the real world, while at the same time commenting on it…
We can also glimpse the power relationships within the world of the Children, and it is clear that (in the absence of Marta) Priya, although the youngest, is the dominant personality.
The first two sections of Recovery are a fairly conventional search and rescue drama, but what surprised me is how much it moved me when I was re-reading it for the purposes of online publication. The eagle-eyed among you will have noted that Priya uses an outmoded version of CPR when reviving Marta after the rescue ’plane crash-lands. This is because the chapter was written before the new guidelines emerged; I’m minded to keep it that way, it’s my world after all!
In section three we return to the subjectivity of Marta’s unconscious mind. In essence this is a continuation of Sleeping Beauty; our heroine’s physical body may have been rescued, but her mind is still away with the fairies!
Section three, appropriately enough, uses a three part structure:
i) Marta’s debates the nature of Time with ‘the serpent’
ii) Marta as Goddess transcends the Cosmos
iii) Marta (as her childhood self) rides the very-slow-moving train and receives her gift from the Dark Lady
I’d like to acknowledge two influences here; firstly, the late Iain Banks’ wonderful second novel The Bridge, which has had a hold on my imagination since first reading; and secondly, Lewis Carroll (if you haven’t noticed that Marta takes the role of Alice in her exchanges with the serpent, then you haven’t been listening!).
Our sojourn in Marta’s unconscious ends when she wakes…
Another influence, which has only just occurred to me (even ‘though I actually quote his lyrics in Sleeping Beauty), is Jimi Hendrix’s 1983, which can be found on Electric Ladyland.
In section 4, we (and Marta), are back in the real world, and our heroine is finally facing up to the consequences of her actions…
There is some foreshadowing here (in Jorge’s reaction to Marta’s dream), and some bitter self-knowledge on her part; but Jorge’s love for her is able to transcend the barriers that have sprung up between them…
But then we always knew it would…
Bye for now