Philosophy – Lights In The Sky

Be careful what you wish for

By C Stevens | 4th January 2022 | Comments 0 Comment

Lights in the Sky began as a series anticipating an environmental catastrophe known as ‘The Collapse’, which leads to a general breakdown of science, civil society and nation states, resulting in the reduction of Earth’s human population to roughly one third of what it is today. I pushed my environmental catastrophe back to the beginning of the twenty second century (something which looks naively optimistic from our standpoint in 2022), I also invented a grand project, the Alpha Mission which is able to send a Probe to our nearest neighbour in interstellar space, the Alpha Centauri system. Conveniently, (for this is fiction, after all) the Probe finds the perfect Earth-like planet in orbit around Alpha Centauri A, one of the three stars that make up the system, effects a landfall and uses its autonomic resources to build a base. The artificial intelligence which controls the Mission is then able to bring its human colonists into existence.

Now before you accuse me of bandwagon jumping, I wrote the original short story that opens the series (then called Light-out) somewhere between the end of 2012 and beginning of 2013. I know this because I submitted the first draft of the story (without success) to Analog Science Fact and Fiction magazine on 20th April 2013. Many of the themes and concerns explored in the subsequent series of novels were not well known outside of SF circles, nor were they part of general public discourse at this point in our history. Few, for example, had heard of Elon Musk or SpaceX, that came later.

The Lights in the Sky series now stretches to seven completed novels, number eight (now retitled, hopefully for the last time, The Robot’s Progress) is nearing completion, and number nine (currently called Earthrise) is already underway.

I didn’t get everything right; for example, I didn’t anticipate a worldwide pandemic striking the planet in 2019/20; and, as mentioned previously, I have my breakdown of civilisation occurring at the beginning of the next century, when the middle of this one is now looking favourite. I was also unaware of the impact our rapidly diminishing groundwater reserves will have on the capacity of the world to feed its current population, let alone what is predicted.

But by and large, I think I did pretty well…

The notion that we should be seriously seeking a lifeboat for humanity in the form of a colony on a habitable world elsewhere, while a commonplace in SF circles, was not yet part of the zeitgeist. My version of the future sees a vast shadowy international body (the Alpha Project), funded by various governments, doing the heavy lifting, mainly because I had not anticipated the rise of commercial space exploration funded by billionaires.

I also shifted the location of our species’ lifeboat much further out. My technological solutions for getting my probe and its precious cargo to Alpha Centauri are not examples of ‘imaginary science’ in the tradition of Star Trek, but projections of existing technologies. Again, few people outside of research laboratories or the hard-core SF readership were talking about light sails as a means of crossing the interstellar gulf, now it has become a commonplace.

All of the above is extremely gratifying, as one of the usual motivations for writing in the genre is to engage in prediction. But I would also hasten to point out that this series is far more than an exercise in futurology, as story, character development, and philosophical discourse are at least as important, if not more so.

But don’t take my word for it; the first completed novel in the series, A Children’s Crusade, is published on this website, along with extracts from later novels in the series.

So why the caveat?

Well, I don’t really want to be right about these things. Anticipating a future where billions of people will die well before their time is not a comfortable thought, and as this once remote possibility looms ever larger, the old saw ‘be careful what you wish for’, starts to appear uncomfortably apposite.

The Author January 2022

Pluralistic Absolutism and Adversarial Hyperbole

By C Stevens | 25th August 2021 | Comments 0 Comment

A new (and in Western liberal democracies, at least) dominant philosophy has emerged in these most worrying of times, which I have given the name pluralistic absolutism. Now I did Google this, and nobody seems to have used this precise term before. It is however a new spin on an old notion, that of cultural absolutism; the notion that the values of your nation, region, ethnic group, religious persuasion, social class, or ideological belief system (delete as appropriate) are paramount and cannot be challenged. Like much in contemporary culture, this notion has mutated and been transformed by the influence of the internet, and in particular, by social media.

Ironically, an innovation that promised to bring peoples, nations and cultures together, has had precisely the opposite effect; the online world has instead atomised society, facilitating the rise of identity politics. Societies have become far more tribal, with people finding others who share their ethnicity, gender, and sexuality (or any combination of the aforementioned) and have similar beliefs, norms and values, within cyberspace. These new virtual communities are no longer necessarily limited by national boundaries. But, rather than resulting in a more tolerant attitude towards difference, a reaction against cultural relativism has led to the opposite. A Holier than Thou attitude has become mainstreamed, as everyone noisily proclaims the difference and uniqueness of their group’s particular take on the world, and its moral superiority to every other point of view.

This worldview has many additional consequences, including a conviction (on the part of everybody, it would seem) that there is a fixed way of doing everything, from watering plants in hot weather to writing genre fiction. All of this is spread and facilitated via social media, often linked to different identity groupings, and taking its place alongside the innumerable conspiracy theories, faddism in medical treatments and diets, and all the rest of the detritus.

Every little identity group now maintains that their narrow view of the world and their particular way of doing things is right and rejects (and often condemns as evil), all competing philosophies and methodologies.

The result of this is civil paralysis and confusion, which is exploited by Populists and authoritarians, and threatens democracy and the basis of Liberal society itself, which relies on tolerance and the willingness to agree to differ.

Accompanying this is what I will term adversarial hyperbole, in itself nothing new in the pages of the popular press. However this is now aggressively colonising other areas of the media once considered immune. Hence, every pronouncement by a celebrity or public figure is now an admission rather than a comment. Mild observations about others are repurposed as ‘brutal’ or ‘crushing’ criticisms! (sidebar: when did our public vocabulary become so limited?)

Every form of public discourse now appears to be conducted in the most ludicrously adversarial terms, and one has to ask what this fashion for violent public discourse tells us about our culture and about the likely fate of our democracy.

Not wishing to be alarmist here, but the Weimar Republic comes to mind, and others have already drawn parallels between the Reichstag Fire and the storming of the US Capitol by Donald Trump’s supporters. This leads me to the conclusion that the new pluralistic absolutism is effectively a product of the Baroque phase of Western Liberal Democracy, and likely a harbinger of its imminent dissolution.

On that cheery note, ’til next time

The Author August 2021

The flight from current realities

By C. E. Stevens | 17th November 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

Modern cultural and political discourse appears to embody not merely a retreat into various forms of irrationality, but also a retreat into solipsism (and for many narcissism!). I confess that I’m guilty of the sin of solipsism; what is Lights in the sky if not a retreat from the unpleasant realities of the world that we find ourselves in? and I’m obviously not alone in seeking a refuge from an alarming and increasingly dangerous world.
Part of the novel form’s appeal is the degree of control it gives to the writer; without a director or stage manager, or a cast of actors to interpret your work, you are effectively God. What you as the author decree goes in the world you have created. This is especially true of the fields of fantastic literature and science fiction, where you literally create a new world in many cases, and I’m sure it’s no accident that these genres attracted a whole host of extreme personalities (Edgar Rice Burroughs, HP Lovecraft and Philip K Dick spring to mind, but there are others).
However the solipsism previously on offer to the novelist, the poet and the fabled lonely artist working in their garrett is now on offer to everyone. The online world and smartphone culture enables people to conduct large parts of their everyday business without having to directly interact with other people. People can conduct elaborate ‘friendships’ with people they will never meet, and, in the case of online celebrities, who remain completely unaware of their existence. It is possible (via gaming) to escape into virtual worlds of mind-boggling complexity and become utterly divorced from the world outside. I was slightly alarmed (but not surprised) to learn of a strain of scientific and philosophical thought that advocates perpetuating the human species (or maybe just themselves, I’m not quite sure!) within conveniently-wrought AI, enabling these lucky people to inhabit their private worlds (presumably) for all eternity.
There are obviously cultish aspects to all of the above beliefs and practices (and, I would argue, aspects of the transcendentalist and monastic religious experience), but for the would-be solipsist they offer yet another series of alternative realities where the individual is in sole control.
Of course out in the ‘real world’, it also offers that other breed of narcissists, the populists of the New Right, carte blanche to continue to mould the physical world in their own image; safe in the knowledge that the fractured solipsism of contemporary culture makes it unlikely that a sufficient number of potential opponents will ever be able to effectively organise against them.
Of course, a lot of this is symptomatic of a current reality where things are now ‘looking so grim that you have to wear shades’ (to misquote a minor alt-pop hit of the 90’s), and I’m drawn to Douglas Adams’ wonderful notion that the renegade President of the Galaxy, Zaphod Beeblebrox, would sport sunglasses that automatically obscure his vision whenever danger threatens.
Strikes me we’ve now all been issued with this particularly-useful piece of kit,
‘…impending global catastrophe, what do I care? I’m going to lose myself in whichever role-playing and world-building online game is flavour of the month! See you on the other side, or not!’
So what about your latest novel? I hear you all ask…
Well, chapter six is now complete, and Marta da Guia is now on the cusp of adolescence. I have reintroduced a familiar character, Klara, the emotional automaton (and prototype of the nursemaids on Alpha five) invented by Dr Helen Choi. Klara’s role will be that of the Greek Chorus I talked about in previous blogs, commenting on the action, and on the changes taking place in the wider world.
However this volume is inevitably (with apologies to Gabriel Garcia-Marquez) a Chronicle of a Death Foretold, we know how this story is going to end, and it’s not good…
This narrative appears to me completely appropriate in our current times…
The Author November 2019

Housekeeping

By C. E. Stevens | 29th August 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

Housekeeping
Lights in the sky is many things: it’s a vast sprawling meta-novel of ideas and scientific, philosophical, societal, economic and theological speculations; its a series of picaresques; it’s a postmodernist tribute to my sources and influences; it’s a romance, an adventure story, a coming of age novel; it’s a mystery story with the author as detective; it’s all these things and more…
It’s also now finished…
Perhaps I should qualify this; the main narrative is complete, on both on Earth and on Alpha 5, we now know what happens to all of the protagonists, and have a fair idea of what comes next. We have followed our characters (for the most part) from birth to death, and the central enigma behind the world of the series has been laid bare.
However there are a number of other stories within this vast concept (six novels, 2314 pages, and nearly seven hundred thousand words) referenced or alluded to in passing, that I feel deserve to be told, either in short story form, or in additional novels. I’ve already started this process and written a number of short stories, which I intend to collect together at some point, perhaps under the title Tales from the Collapse.
But one or two of these stories would appear to merit a longer treatment. An obvious candidate is the story of the original Marta, Miss da Guia, from her strange conception as part of the breeding programme undertaken by the Alpha Mission, through her unusual childhood in Sao Paulo, her short-lived media stardom, and her brutal and untimely death…
I’ve just remembered that I have title for this putative novel, ‘When You Wish upon a Star’, which plays with various layers of meaning; The Journey to the Stars undertaken by the Alpha Mission carries the hopes of millions marooned on an apparently-dying world, Miss da Guia is a media star worshipped by those millions, and she is following her own star…
Given that the title I have arrived at neatly pitches the novel, I think it’s now highly likely that I will write it.
The other candidate a further volume is the fate of Clara and all the other automatons unlucky enough to have remained on Earth after the departure of the Probe in 2048. The leftover girl hints at the likely fate of such entities towards the end of the novel; Clara has been rejected by her creator Dr Helen Choi, who now sees the robot as the product of her pursuit of false scientific gods, of literally being in error, in Christian terms. By definition Clara is thus demonic, and shares the fate of the Creature rejected by his creator, Victor Frankenstein, in Mary Shelley’s famous novel.
We have also been given a glimpse of the forces of reaction ranged against the Alpha Mission and all its works in the person of the ‘Mayor of Ibara City’, the formidable Ester Almeida, and we know things aren’t going to end well.
I often think that the dichotomy within the series between ‘the scientific vision’ as exemplified by the Alpha Mission, and ‘the spiritual vision’ personified by the Camposettas and their adherents (including eventually Dr Choi), is essentially a dramatisation of a battle that I’ve fought within myself my whole life. A struggle between a belief in science (and its delinquent offspring, technology), and a countervailing attachment to the natural world, primitive socialism, and a non-specific form of spirituality, most akin to Buddhism.
Seen in these terms, Lights in the sky becomes an actualization of this inner debate…
The Author August 2019

How will it all end?

By C. E. Stevens | 28th June 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

How will it all end?
As usual I’m leaving it late to blog this month, possibly lulled into a false sense of security by managing to blog twice last month…
However we are getting to the crucial stage in the Lights in the sky series; the point when it all needs to pay off and the various hares I’ve set running needed to be hunted down…
The problem I face is that it’s all so complex…
There has been an ending to this series already (in the climax of the original trilogy, The Lost Colony), and I have to remain faithful to this but I can’t duplicate it. There needs to be a development of the narrative and development of the concept.
It is tempting to carry on regardless, just writing what comes into your head, and I often employ this approach, but this means that you miss out things (sometimes the bleedin’ obvious!), and so editing becomes important, add texture to the narrative, to correct mistakes and anachronisms, and to remain true to the overall concept.
And this necessitates lots of research…
So I’ve actually re-read the whole sextet this year, and because I can never just read the text, this had resulted in a complete re-edit of all six novels. I’m aided in this by a new feature helpfully introduced by Google, an enhanced spelling and grammar check (which I’m presuming is rather like Grammarly, but is free). This has proved invaluable and has pointed out lots of errors that my manual editing had managed to miss.
When you read bumpf from Agents and online luminaries offering advice (such as the ubiquitous Neil Gaiman), they always talk about the first and second edit (and presumably the third and the fourth…).
Well, I don’t work like that…
I don’t sit down one day and say to myself, ‘…today, I’m going to do the second edit of this or that novel’, my editing is constant. Every time I write a new section of whichever novel I’m working on, I review and edit the preceding chapters. Every time I re-read previous novels (and do this a lot!), I end up editing them.
I’ve nearly finished re-editing The leftover girl, and I rediscovered various speculations on the ethics of the Alpha Mission and the whole notion of maya, from the POV of Helen Choi, the architect of Mission AI, who at the end of her life now regrets the decisions she has made in her life, in the pursuit and what she now regards as false scientific gods, and now regards herself as being in error. In fact, she sees the whole notion of scientific progress (which underlies Western philosophy) as being ‘in error’ in religious terms (Helen is a Catholic), and an example of maya in philosophical terms, a concept she has imbibed from her late husband, Alex, who was a Buddhist in life.
This puts Helen in the same camp as Tata, albeit that they have reached this conclusion from completely different starting points (and by radically different routes).
This will inform the crucial last three chapters of the series, and currently the stakes are very high (getting higher), as I negotiate the last few miles in this epic adventure…
We’ll see how it all turns out…
The Author June 2019

A secondary world?

By C. E. Stevens | 10th May 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

A secondary world?

I viewed a rather ancient, but nevertheless interesting, documentary on JRR Tolkien on YouTube recently. The documentary was made well before Peter Jackson’s filming of Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, and concentrated on the books, with keynote contributions from Tolkien’s youngest son, Christopher…
Christopher Tolkien discussed his father’s concept of Middle Earth as a ‘secondary world’, that is to say an alternate reality that works by different rules, a notion that (amazingly) I was unfamiliar with; and the more he talked, the more it occurred to me that Lights in the sky, is in many regards, an example of this.
So I did some research on the concept and concluded that, although I’ve tended to think of myself as a writer of ‘realistic SF’, there are many of the elements of a secondary world in the series, particularly in the three novels set on Alpha 5. So without knowing it, I have (in some ways) been writing a work of high fantasy.
Now it’s important to keep a sense of proportion here. I have taken considerable care to make LITS as plausible and scientifically credible as possible, and what I have just said in no way invalidates any of that. But the series is many things not just one, and incorporates various literary tropes. At the end of the day it is also a work of the imagination.
Different books within the sextet are fantastic to a greater or lesser degree; After the Flood is definitely the volume with the most tenuous connexion to high fantasy, but both the books that feature Marta Camacho have long passages that dive headlong into the genre. In particular Ms Camacho’s journey down the Amazon River on her raft, following her departure from the riverboat Fitzcarraldo, which is deliberately presented in dreamlike terms.
But it’s the original trilogy that cleaves most closely to the idea of a secondary world. We have a series of novels that takes the form of a bildungsroman. The protagonist is a child when the action opens, but grows into adulthood, and comes into powers and skills beyond those of ordinary person back on Earth, although in my world these have a technological source. Marta Fernandes is also to all intents and purposes an orphan. The theme of good versus is central to the series, but the question of who is good? and who who is evil? is often indeterminate, and is left unresolved until the end of the series. This is where I mostly part company with most fantasy writers, as in my world relativism is part of the underlying philosophy. Thus the Alphanians are presented at different times (and in different ways) as both an apparent threat to the eventual triumph of good, and as its most effective proponents. The same can be said (to a lesser degree) about the Artificial Intelligence fronted by Nurse Six Gee.
The World of the series is revealed to be illusory, in the sense that the World is not as it appears to be, by a series paradigm shifts in the first three novels. A similar process is now taking place in the denouement of Maya, which I am currently writing. And at the end of the day there are beings within this cosmos whose powers are to all intents and purposes Godlike, and therefore (as far as the human actors are concerned) magical…
The Author May 2019

Saying goodbye

By C. E. Stevens | 4th May 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

Saying goodbye

I left the majestic world of Alpha 5 once again, half an hour ago…
Perhaps I should explain; I have just finished the latest edit of the original Lights in the sky trilogy, and this gave me a chance to reassess my magnum opus. Each book has its strong points, its favourite moments, but I was reminded that the last volume, The Lost Colony, is the best of all. The last two chapters in particular are both gut-wrenching and unbelievably sad, as I say goodbye to the characters (both human and non-human) that I’ve lived with and loved. Of course, I will read these books again, but each time I return I will know that the story is complete, the lives of the characters have run their course, their entry on the slate of probability decided.
The reason for doing this edit was threefold: I had reached a natural pause in my writing of the last book in the series, Maya, secondly I knew that I would need to ensure that the ending of the series as a whole was consistent with the conclusion of the original trilogy, and this required me to re-read this (and re-reading naturally leads to re-editing!), and a third reason has emerged, I now realise that I will need to up my game if the series as a whole is to get the finale it deserves.
The appeal of the series is not merely emotional. The final chapters of the original trilogy contain a great of cosmological and philosophical speculation, and the task in finishing Maya is to be true to what has been revealed so far, and (if possible) build on these revelations. Each volume of the original series ends with a paradigm shift, where the nature of the world is shown to be at variance with what the protagonists (and the reader) had previously believed.
My challenge in finishing the series will be to pull off a similar trick at the close of the sextet as a whole. I know this will be difficult and so far the new paradigm has not emerged. But I have faith; in writing the series so far I have often felt the unseen hand on my shoulder guiding me towards the direction I need to go.
This is not intended to be a mystical explanation for the roots of my creativity, merely a restatement of the commonplace that a work of art (and this is especially true of an extended work of fiction) takes on a life of its own, and eventually starts to make its own demands.
I need now to listen and be in a position respond when these manifest themselves…
The Author May 2019

Conspiracy theory

By C. E. Stevens | 5th March 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

Blog entry supplemental twenty four: Conspiracy theory
The final part of Lights in the sky ( and hence of the whole series) centres around a conspiracy theory; the biggest conspiracy theory of all, in fact, that the world, and by extension the whole Universe may not be as we imagine it. That the whole world is actually much younger than we imagine it (in direct opposition to Rupert Giles’ theory that it is, in fact, much older!). That it was actually created by unknown beings for unknown purposes and that consequently we are all property and experimental subjects. If you are thinking so far, so Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, it’s important to realise that Douglas Adams was drawing on an older tradition within SF. This is also a serious book rather than a lighthearted satirical comedy, and my intention is to explore the nature of faith (obviously I’m riffing on Creationism here!), and the psychology of believers.
To the vanishingly small number of people who have read the original Lights in the sky trilogy, this development comes as no surprise as it was already revealed to the Children on Alpha 5.
I started to think (dangerous, I know, in these times!) what if the old stories were actually in some sense true? Not literally, as they have been subject to imperfect transmission, distortion and reinterpretation over the centuries. But that they contain essential truths about the nature of existence that science has been missing.
Now I’m aware that there’s a danger that putative readers will also take what I have written literally, employing the same mindset that takes the Bible (essentially a series of creation myths, parables, and folk tales) literally.
If you think that’s unlikely you’re right, mainly because it’s unlikely that my stories will ever reach a wide enough audience. However the history of the twentieth century teaches us that the most bizarre and far-fetched of notions can become the subject and focus of fanatical belief.
So readers should remember that this is a work of fiction, set in an imaginary world, for the purposes of entertainment and to provoke philosophical debate.
The Author 5th March 2019

Irrational behaviour

By C. E. Stevens | 8th February 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

Blog entry supplemental twenty three: Irrational behaviour
Apologies for not blogging last month, but I’ve been rather busy…
Maya, my seventh novel (the final part of the Lights in the sky sextet), is, amazingly, nearly half way through. Though an issue has arisen with the title of the previous volume. While doing the SEO on this website I found there were two very similar books; a Scandinavian novel whose title (when translated into English) is also After the Flood, plus a home-grown novel (also made into a film) called Flood, which has a very similar premise. How closely the two novels resemble mine I’m not sure, yet. However accidental plagiarism is an occupational hazard in creative writing as the zeitgeist tends to generate similar artistic responses to it.
What this has done is make me re-evaluate the title of my last novel, and I’m thinking I may return to the original title, The Great Flood, which would emphasis the historical echoes implicit in the work. Flood (on first glance) would appear to be a thriller set in very near future, and thus a different sort of animal. But more research is needed…
The SEO on my website is something I’ve been meaning to get around to for some time, and I’m enjoying the exercise, which fills in time between finishing chapter ten of my current book, and starting chapter eleven. Rob is currently in the process of revamping the website, which should soon boast a new landing page with a revolving gallery of images, and tabs giving easy access to my latest blog entries and excerpts from the books.
Out in the wider world things seem to go from bad to worse, as if the fates are determined to bring my fictional predictions to pass. The case of the man in India who is suing his parents for conceiving him without his permission is both completely barking, and an illustration of a philosophical tendency that I hadn’t previously been aware of, that of antinatalism.
Now, I’ll confess there are elements of this philosophy in the series, at least one of the protagonists characterises the human species as ‘a virus on the skin of the Planet!’ But these are individual points of view in what is essentially a pluralist work. Lights in the sky is at bottom both humanist and positive; humanity is tested and the biosphere threatened with extinction, as a result of our selfish actions. But both survive, and a better, more ethical (and non-Abrahamic) society emerges, with a little outside help, but then I’ve always been partial to a nice Deus ex machina!
Back in today’s grim reality it occurs to me that Trump may really be the Antichrist, and this probably accounts for all the support he receives from those US Fundamentalists, who see him (presumably) as a necessary precursor to the Last Days!
On that cheery apocalyptic note…
The Author February 2019

Blog entry supplemental fourteen: Symbolism and the unseen guiding hand

By C Stevens | 21st November 2017 | Comments 0 Comment

At many points during the writing of Lights in the sky I have thought I was being guided in some way; but before you reach for the straitjacket I’m not claiming divine revelation or anything along those lines. I am merely repeating the commonplace that a novel (and especially a series of novels) at some stage takes on a life of its own and starts to make its own demands. At this point the ‘author’ becomes its servant rather its master.

At many points during the four year writing period I have wondered where this or that idea came from, and marvelled that something I wrote should fit so perfectly with what had been written previously without me consciously aware of this.

A rational explanation would be that on an unconscious level I knew what was required and framed my prose accordingly; naturally as a Romantic I prefer a more mystical explanation.

Anyway, the reason I’m banging on about this now is that, during one of many revisions of the text, I decided to investigate the symbolism lying behind the references to the natural world that pepper the series. Specifically, I looked up the symbolic meanings of hummingbirds, hibiscus blooms, macaws, monkeys, and jaguars.

I’ll confess I did look up the symbolic meaning of dolphins when I decided that one would play a significant role in the journey of my protagonist, Tata. I was heartened to learn that in Greek Mythology the dolphin carries the spirits of the dead to a new reality. Tata, of course, in symbolic terms dies and is reborn during her journey down the River on her raft, a point I make explicitly at the end of the chapter. It was therefore wholly appropriate that a dolphin should be her ferryman from one mode of being to another. But the point is, I didn’t know any of this (at least on a conscious level) when I made the decision to cast a river dolphin in this role.

I will confess that I did do a similar exercise when I researched the symbolic meanings of rivers, and this has influenced the text of The leftover girl, which (of course) has a journey up the Amazon River at its heart.

Thinking about this later, and noticing that similar references to the natural world recur in the four books, I decided to check out the symbolic meaning of these, and see how well I have done in choosing appropriate symbolic referents elsewhere in the text.

There are a number of references to hummingbirds and red hibiscus flowers dotted throughout the tetralogy, usually the two occurring together!

Hummingbirds represent (and I’m being selective here!), hope, eternity, continuity, and infinity among other things, which would appear to fit with the overall mood and philosophical thrust of the series.

In North America Hibiscus often symbolises the perfect wife or woman (so obviously I’m using it ironically here!), but in China its meaning is different, where it symbolises the fleeting nature of fame, beauty and personal glory! So no exact fit here, but I would argue all of these notions are aspects of the series!

Macaw is more promising territory as the Bororo people (who live close to where the action of The leftover girl takes place) believe they are reincarnated as macaws during the complex of transmigration of souls that forms part of their mythology. So, the right general area; interestingly macaws are seen by much of Amerindian culture as avatars of solar heavenly fire, in opposition to the jaguar which represents the chthonic fire of the underworld!

So, not inappropriate, and symbols which lead me to want to consider afresh the innate symbolic meanings contained within the novel.

Finally, the monkey nearly always represents the trickster, but can also symbolise a need to renew your affectionate ties with friends and relations; so, no real congruence there! Although, interestingly, in the poetry of T.S. Eliot, the marmoset is referenced alongside the Brazilian jaguar!

There would seem to be an awful lot of lucky guesses on my part here! or maybe my unconsciousness knows what it’s doing, even if my conscious mind doesn’t!

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