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

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Category: Time

Reset

Reset

As I’ve said before in this blog, we live in worrying times. Previous entries have addressed other recent threats to our well-being; principally populist rulers, unaccountable billionaires and the organisations they run, including their corrosive and equally unaccountable social media platforms; but these all pale into insignificance beside the clear and present danger, which has come sharply into focus in the current news cycle. The existential threat posed by the collapse of the biosphere will mean the end of human civilisation and cannot be mitigated by technological fixes despite all self-serving claims to the contrary. The likes of Boris Johnson waffle on about ‘Green Capitalism’ as an acceptable version which would allow for continued economic growth. But as a number of commentators have pointed out, any economic growth is in the end unsustainable, and the only way out of the coming catastrophe is to drastically reduce the size of the world economy and with it the size of the world’s population.

When very rich people start buying up land in geographically-isolated places such as New Zealand, and tech billionaires draw up serious plans to colonise Mars as a back-up planet to Earth, then it’s time for everybody to worry.

However most people don’t have the options of the super-rich, and the number of sufficiently-isolated islands with the resources to support a significant population is necessarily finite. Those wealthy people wishing to seek this kind of asylum will need to act quickly, as the drawbridges are likely to be lifted very soon. You can probably think of the quarantines imposed recently by the likes of Australia and New Zealand as a sort of dry run for what they will be forced to do again later. And in the end it may be to no avail, as the populous and militarily-powerful nations at most risk of collapse are unlikely to just sit on their hands when things get desperate. Ecological collapses in the past have always led to warfare and violence, just ask the Easter Islanders!

At some point in the near future, a one-way trip into indentured servitude on Mars is going to look like a very attractive proposition, and millions will be applying.

Ironies abound in our current predicament; that we should have reached this point when pure science has enabled us to gain a frighteningly-sophisticated understanding of the Cosmos and our place in it, is merely the most poignant. But it’s not pure science which is the villain here, it’s the application of that science in technology, and the Abrahamic social and economic doctrines pursued by all urbanized societies which have brought us here. 

And the reset part?

This is not a new phenomenon for our planet; mass extinctions are par for the course, although the active complicity of a sentient race in the process is (as far as we are aware) a new variant.

In the end the planet doesn’t care, it has a built-in self-correction mechanism. If things move too far in one direction it acts (blindly one assumes) to correct the imbalances that have built up within the system. All that pesky carbon will eventually be safely locked up again and the climate will return to something less inimical to higher forms of life. But in the meantime (and we’re talking millions of years here), evolution will be reset, starting again with the few hardy and adaptable species able to survive both the collapse and the testing times that follow, and it will be their descendants who eventually inherit the Earth. 

Whether any of these creatures will achieve sentience is, of course, unknowable.

And if you’ve wondered why we’ve never been contacted by a technologically-advanced species from another star system…

The Author   October 2021

Back to the future

Back to the future

I’m cutting it fine even by my recent standards with this month’s blog, writing it on the very last day of June. Apologies also for using a rather obvious SF film reference for the title, however it is appropriate because I’ve actually started a completely new literary project by reaching back into my past. However this doesn’t mean that Lights in the Sky has been abandoned; I’m roughly halfway through the eighth novel, and I’m enjoying writing my allegory of the Spanish Civil War, but finding the title that fits is still proving tricky.

But back to my new project; a very long time ago I spent two years living in Liverpool, not the smart tourist destination of today, but the crumbling remains of a once great port that featured levels of deprivation not seen elsewhere in the country, whose people had become the butt of national humour. I loved living in the city, even though I knew there was nothing there for me long term, and out of the experience came a song, Saturday night in another Western town, written in 1985, and the first really good song I wrote (for a long time it was the only good song!).

Looking back, the title was far too good to be wasted on a simple song, and after an inordinately long gestation period it’s finally become a story, set in ’pool at the time I was living there and featuring a protagonist who’s an amalgam of me and a friend of mine (now dearly-departed). The story is set in the world of local bands and the longing for fame and occasional brushes with success that characterise this milieu. It features (and will feature) incidents that actually happened, but being fiction, will take a turn into the might-have-beens of life. There will also be a time travel element to the story, as SF always lurks in my fictional universe, sometimes dead centre, but here more on the periphery.

At the moment, I have the basis for a good short story, or the first chapter of another long novel. It will be interesting to see how this one turns out…

The Author  June 2021

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

Saying goodbye

Saying goodbye

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

Blog entry twenty four: The end of the road

Blog entry twenty four: The end of the road

I’ve finished Lights in the sky

I’ll qualify that; I’ve finished the final novel in the series, the leftover girl, which (counterintuitively), is the first chronologically in the series. This is not to say that I’ll never return to the world of Alpha 5, I’ve left some loose ends and there are still stories to tell, but the main narrative is finished! It’s taken me four (or possibly five) years of living at least partially in a world of my own creation. The series covers a period of two centuries from the birth of Helen Choi right through to the death of last of the twins on Alpha 5…

So how do I feel?

Well, empty, grieving, directionless etc etc…

This is the first time that I haven’t had anything to write in nearly a year…

It’s like a bereavement, or possibly like the empty nest syndrome you get when your children finally leave home; the novels are like my children!

So how do I deal with this?

  • By doing the (to me) drudgery of promoting the series. I have a list of 15+ agents plus a number of independent publishers (you have been warned!). And I’m now looking to sharpen up my (rather blunt) act by making my website more visible and marketing my writing more effectively via social media (even!).

 

  • By writing something else!
  • Another volume of LITS (possible, but the safe option, and there’s always the danger of diminishing returns!)
  • By starting a completely new project (scary!)
  • By continuing the ‘Simon’ series (lacking enthusiasm for this at the the mo’, and compared to LITS it’s a teensy bit prosaic!)

So a bit of thinking to do, but plenty to get on with…

’til next time…

Blog entry supplemental eleven: farewell Brian Aldiss

Blog entry supplemental eleven: farewell Brian Aldiss

Rather presumptuously, about two years ago I contacted the great man via his website suggesting that he might be able to help me, and directing him to the Lights in the sky opener, serialised on this website. I acknowledged my debt to him and the role Billion Year Spree played in my autodidactic study of imaginative literature, leading eventually to my writing it!

Whether he ever got to read the message I don’t know, but somehow I doubt it, assuming it to have been intercepted by one of the gatekeepers supervising his website, but I never received an answer…

Like a lot of SF fans of my generation I came to Brian Aldiss through the short story collection Space, Time and Nathaniel, before moving on, to The Dark Light Years, Cryptozoic, and eventually Hothouse! Aldiss was clearly a better writer (in purely literary terms), than my other favourite of the period, Philip K Dick (as he would prove with the incomparable Helliconia Trilogy), but stylistically he now seems to belong to another age.  The films made from his stories weren’t that successful and are now never shown (with sole exception of A.I., made from his short story Supertoys Last All Summer Long), and fit much less well with the anxiety-ridden postmodernist world we find ourselves in , a milieu that Dick inhabits perfectly, and appeared to anticipate!

His SF scholarship tried (unsuccessfully) to force the literary world to take the form seriously, but in vain, and Billion (later Trillion) Year Spree’s only real fault is that it contains no appreciation of his own work!

R.I.P. then, Brian…

C.E. Stevens  August 2017

Blog entry supplemental seven: …if we had but world enough and time

Blog entry supplemental seven: …if we had but world enough and time

One of the principal attractions (to me) of writing science fiction is that you get to create your own world. This even has a technical term (it’s called world building!), and formed part of the syllabus of the one day course is writing SF that I did three years ago.
Of course, any form of creative writing involves a bit of this, but with mainstream fiction you’ve got much more to go on! SF and Fantasy require much more creativity in this regard as you’re often starting from scratch. This has its own perils; fantasy and sword and sorcery novels in particular tend to suffer from a plethora of daft (sometimes faintly ludicrous) names for things, people, beasts, countries, worlds etc etc.
To avoid this I’ve tried to ground my narrative with a greater sense of realism by writing the near (and hopefully horribly plausible) future. It’s really an alternative history (currently a popular genre, with the success of Amazon Studio’s television adaptation of Philip K Dick’s novel The Man in the High Castle), but this is future history rather an alternative past!
As I’ve said, this notion is extremely seductive as you get to play God, but also extremely satisfying and comforting as you create a world that you, the author, can escape to. And Lord knows we need that at the moment!
Mainstream critics (and even some authors) can be extremely disparaging about speculative fiction of all kinds; but this is essentially grounded in ignorance and a rather sniffy attitude towards genre fiction in general!
Any decent SF (or Fantasy) novel will contain all the characterisation, narrative experimentation, and philosophical speculation of a comparable mainstream novel, but in addition will require the creation of a convincing world, right down to the last detail! This is very complex and challenging and some of our (so-called) critics should give it a try!
One of the most challenging aspects is the so-called timeline (i.e. keeping all your ducks in a row temporally!), and the foregoing diatribe serves to introduce a new feature coming soon to the Lights in the Sky site; the Alpha Mission timeline, which will soon be added by my good friend Rob Tyler.
CE Stevens April 2017

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

Blog entry fifteen: On the ice

Blog entry fifteen: On the ice

This blog entry should be read in conjunction with chapter fifteen. On the ice is almost self-consciously visual and descriptive, as if to make up for terseness of previous chapters, with their emphasis on dialogue and characterization!
I owe an obvious debt here to James Blish’s wonderful novel of polar exploration, The Frozen Year, published to coincide with International Geophysical Year in 1957 (coincidentally the year of my birth, so I span the Space Age, but that’s another story!). The embryonic and aforementioned Age makes an appearance at the end of this novel with the announcement that the Americans have launched the first artificial satellite! Clearly, in 1956 nobody in the USA would have believed that it would be the Soviet Union that launched the first successful space probe!
None of this detracts from the grandeur of Blish’s epic…
Sal’s optical phenomenon described in On the ice is also a direct lift from Blish’s novel where it’s given the name ‘copper dawn’! I have no idea if it has a real name, but I assume its a real phenomenon… Writing this blog now, it occurs to me that Marta also shares the fate of the discredited astronomer in The Frozen Year, in that she makes an amazing discovery but is unable to furnish the necessary scientific proof…
In narrative terms, On the ice continues the process whereby the Children explore their world. As the Equatorial regions are now considered too dangerous, they venture north to explore one of the planet’s two vast polar ice caps.
At this stage in Alpha five’s history both ice caps are immense, and lock up most of the world’s water between them; but they are also now in retreat, an indication that A5’s climate is now changing, and things are moving in favour of its indigenous inhabitants…
The interplay of climate and biosphere is to become a major theme of the series, and thus a driver of the action…
This process starts with the second of Marta’s two discoveries (the one she can’t prove!).
In this chapter we are presented with the gadfly activity of the Children, whose ephemeral lives buzz around (and are contrasted with), the implacability of the landscape, and the monolith that is geological time…
Marta and Priya confront this disjuncture when they discover the ‘ice crusty’ sealed in its blue prison…
We also observe the Children engaged in routine research (the nuts and bolts of their respective disciplines), and are reminded that they are members of a scientific expedition. Later, circumstance conspires to leave Marta and Sal alone together, an unfamiliar combination, which is prolonged by the arrival of the storm…
Finally, in the interplay between Marta and Priya, we see again that the younger girl is wise beyond her years, and is the grown-up in the relationship…