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

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Category: Symbolism

Life imitating art

Life imitating art

The fourth episode of Neil Gaiman’s television adaptation of the novel he wrote with the late Terry Pratchett, Good Omens. is appropriate, if hardly welcome, given that Good Omens is about the events leading up to the End of Days. It’s important to point out that not having seen the remainder of the series, nor read the book, I have no idea of the fictional outcome.
The form that Armageddon would take is only to be guessed at, but given that we face a whole suite of potential threats; everything from runaway climate change, pandemics, potential asteroids strikes, to the re-awakening of dormant super volcanoes (plus the old standby of nuclear annihilation), there would appear to be a lot of potential candidates.
Gaiman and Pratchett’s decision to replace one of Four Horseman, Pestilence, with Pollution, now comes across as complacent in current circumstances, an unnecessary nod to currently fashionable preoccupations, and lacking apocalyptic poetry of the original. There is also an element of Hubris, infectious diseases never really go away, they bide their time, waiting for an opportunity. The ease of travel in our interconnected world provides them with the opportunity to spread with frightening rapidity, and any form of social breakdown weakens the capacity of a population to resist.
Now, it’s important to point out that (unsurprisingly) I do not believe in the literal truth of the Bible. However, I do regard it as an important work of literature which can be seen as a series of metaphors and parables.
Whether metaphor in this case is a form of prophecy, I leave it for you to decide…
The Author February 2020

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

Island: analogy and its uses

Island: analogy and its uses

Island: analogy and its uses
I came up with a neat and (I think) apposite analogy recently while writing chapter fifteen of Maya, imagining the Edgbaston campus of the University of Birmingham (a future version features as a setting) as an island in a sea of ordinary concerns.
I thought further and applied the analogy (on a larger scale) to an England, ‘…separated geographically, politically and culturally from its European neighbours and the wider world,’ post-Brexit. It then occurred to me that the same analogy applied to my writing (and this blog), given that I am largely talking to myself here.
The analogy continues to gather force and gobble up more territory as I’m currently suffering from a painful and debilitating ailment which makes the ordinary tasks of daily life challenging, makes it harder for me to leave the house, and has the effect of isolating me from the rest of the world (on my own island).
If this is beginning to sound like an extract from one of Kafka’s famous Blue Notebooks (recently brought back to my attention by the music of Hans Richter), then this is apt as I claim him as an influence.
On that cheery note
The Author March 2019

Future history

Future history

Blog entry supplemental sixteen: Future history
My plan to write a series of short stories filling the background of the Lights in the sky universe went awry (after three stories), when one of the stories decided to turn itself into a novel!

So I’m now writing my sixth piece of extended fiction with the current title The Great Flood. If this sounds like historical fiction then that’s the point; writing about a putative future as if it were history, a common approach in science fiction!

As ever the intention is to write something that will appeal to the general reader, to a mainstream readership, in fact!

We’re in recognisable world (a possible criticism is that it’s a bit too like our own!). I think this is inevitable and a commonplace in fictional works set in a supposed future! I’m not futurologist, nor do I have clairvoyant powers! Most futuristic fiction reaches an accommodation with its audience… It’s different from the present day, but not too different! This provides reference points for the reader…

The trick would appear to be to introduce a number of technological, cultural, and social changes while maintaining a recognisable milieu…

This is complicated in the current times by the sheer pace of technological and related social and cultural transformations, but nothing is worse than supposed future world filled with supposed ‘developments’ which prove laughably wide of the mark (personal jetpacks and flying cars anybody!).

Science fiction reflects the time that it is written, anyway; and mine reflects a suspicion of and an apprehension with unchecked technological advance and economic change which is a part of the current zeitgeist! Obviously, another strand within the same zeitgeist welcomes this change with open arms…

This schism forms part of the ideological and cultural wars that characterise our times. This is very much a work in progress and it will change, as I modify and customise the text through the writing and editing process…

As ‘historical’ fiction the past is very much present in the world of the novel, manifesting both in the preoccupations of the main characters, and in the thematic elements and symbolism I intend to employ…

Stephen Clare   January 2018

Blog entry supplemental fourteen: Symbolism and the unseen guiding hand

Blog entry supplemental fourteen: Symbolism and the unseen guiding hand

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!