The Sage of New Weird needs no introduction. China Mieville caught up with Joykrit Mitra from Chicago on the morning of the US elections.
I heard you were stuck in New York during Sandy.
I was there, yeah, in Brooklyn. I’d say I was very lucky.
What was that like? From over here it looked like complete chaos.
There were these quirks of geography whereby certain streets had a much easier time than others. But we were very lucky. Just a few streets away it was awful. I don’t want to minimize anything. It was really really traumatic, there was water and everything, but we were safe.
You visited India earlier. Was that professional related?
I’ve been to India twice, once for professional reasons, and otherwise for thoroughly unprofessional reasons.
Did you get any questions about your work that you wouldn’t get anywhere else? Like if your work was seen any differently in this country than abroad?
That’s an interesting question… not particularly. Obviously I wasn’t wildly conscious about this being India specifically. There were a few questions about one of my books, regarding the mythology of the Garuda, and some people were intrigued by that. I didn’t notice any outstanding questions. With the exception of several places I went to where people were saying it’s very difficult for us to get copies of your books here, and how can we keep up with what you’re doing. I don’t know if that’s still the case but I strongly suspect that will not be for much longer, because the Indian market is expanding and there’s a very strong effort to disseminate books as widely as possible.
I wanted to catch on what you said about quirks of geography. You definitely like describing geographies, and as much as possible about the worlds you write about. People say your world building is because you were a Dungeons &Dragons fan. What I wondered, is if any of it has to do with getting a degree in anthropology.
I think it’s related, but I think the line of causality is slightly different. I did a degree in anthropology more because I was interested in social norms and interactions and so on rather than becoming interested in them through that. Whether its fiction or non-fiction that I write, it is somewhat prodded by sociopolitical concerns, which crop up in the novels.
The reason I asked is because I was reading an interview by Amitav Ghosh the other day, a litfic writer who also has an anthropology degree, and like you, is really into maritime fiction of the 19th century. I had this insight that the amount of detail he puts into his historical fiction –also really engaging—that maybe what you are doing is not so different from what writers like him are doing, but somehow you’re getting labeled ‘escapist’.
I don’t know. I don’t know whether I’m labeled escapist. I’m certainly labeled genre, which to some people might be the same thing. I think the notion that genre fiction is essentially escapist is shifting. As for Amitav Ghosh, I think we come from sort of different literary traditions… and I don’t find that threatening and I think a lot of more mainstream writers have a lot of love and affection for maritime fiction. I think we’re at a point where, to put it very crudely and sillily, these kinds of classifications aren’t non-useful, but I think that they being based on quality are breaking down.
I find it hard to see how your stuff would be escapist, considering how much politics there is. And I’m, not saying you’re trying to make a political point somewhere, but I was getting to a point. You describe yourself as a Trotskyist right?
There are many kinds of sub-classifications, but I’m basically socialist. Yeah.
There are many scifi-fantasy writers like Iain. M. Banks, Le Guin and Moorcock who are left leaning. Is there anything about this tradition that attracts writers on the left politically?
Well, I’d be extremely anxious about setting up some kind of causality because there are writers— including extremely good writers— who are engaged with this tradition from very different political backgrounds; there’s plenty of right-wing sci-fi writers and liberal sci-fi writers. So I would be very, very cautious about suggesting an automatic causality. But it’s also true that there are particular tools within the toolbox of science fiction and speculative fiction, which for some writers who are interested in social questions from the perspective of the left, can do specific things with that. Thought experiments and provocations and a certain kind of an estrangement from everyday reality…It’s also true that if you come to the tradition of the fantastic with a sense of social engagement, and/or radical social engagement, there are certain conceptual tools which allow you to do things you cannot do with realist fiction.
I read a quote by you from another interview, from way back in 2000, so maybe you don’t even remember it. It was a similar question and you said, or at least wrote: “So the ‘unreason’ of fantasy is a kind of neurotic counterpoint to capitalism’s ‘rationality’. Capitalism’s ‘reason’ produces its own monsters.” That’s what you were thinking at the time and I think it’s an excellent point.
I think that was in an interview for the Journal of International Socialism. And I stand by it. One of the reasons the fantastic has a strong set of protocols is precisely because modern life is saturated with the unreal and the dreamlike…often thought of as irrational – which is why fantasy is looked at as some kind of pathology against the rationalism of modern life. I think this is wholly unconvincing. I’m always very careful— and it would be somewhat aggrandizing—to suggest that there is some sort of intrinsic radicalism to the fantastic, not at all. But it is true that not only can it be done in a radicalist way, but there are specific things you can do with a non-realist tradition – a kind of dream like interaction. This is why to me, although there isn’t always a connection, I’d say that there are connections. In the alienation from the everyday, experimental traditions like surrealism, pulp sci-fi…I don’t think they are unrelated.
You’ve said Embassytown is your first proper science fiction novel – or at least people would like to call it that. As a writer, did you feel you had to change your approach in a specific way, to approach that novel compared to earlier ones? Stylistically, or in terms of preparation?
Do you mean at the level of sentences? At the level of planning? Any of the above?
Well, I’ve followed your writing through the stages, and I’m used to you writing in a specific way. And I’m not necessarily comparing it to Perdido or The Scar, but when reading Embassytown, I felt it was slightly different.
I’m sure it was. I hope it was. One thing I try and do is change the voice from book to book, not simply writing in the same register for a single book. Like, The City and the City is more stark. It’s very different from Perdido in the sense that Embassytown is more austere and more stepping back in terms of emotional disengagement, and not just because it was a science fiction novel. Every book i write, what I’m interested in doing is to change the voice for each book. Try to make it specific. That’s more interesting I think.
I guess what I was getting at is in terms of exposition.
I think it’s more a question of the specifics of the book rather than because of which genre. And I am a very different writer than I was twelve years ago. (Embassytown is) Written from the point of view of a society who does not think to explain what is interesting, from an outsider’s perspective, which is very different from Perdido Street Station – which has an omniscient narratorial voice, and which allows you to, rather, it exposes some of your faults as a writer because of expositional info dumps. What I’m trying to say is that I might write another novel that is close to Perdido Street Station one day… But I’m trying to move away from the difference being a function of it being an sf novel as opposed to a fantasy novel.
Speaking of Perdido, are you returning to the world of Bas Lag anytime soon?
I’ve said this many times. I might go back at some point, but I don’t think there’s anything specifically new that would make it worthwhile. So I would be very surprised if I went back again during my writing life.
How about a Bas-Lag MMORPG? Like recently, Tad Williams had Otherland made into one. Have you ever thought of something like that?
If someone approached me about it I would be open to it. But it would take an awful, awful amount of convincing. Those books are written as books. They are specifically stories written within that universe, which is very different from a kind of interactive formula. I would be much more interested in creating an entirely new setting for an MMORPG. I wouldn’t like the idea of adapting those books particularly prima facie exciting. If someone made me a fantastic proposal, i wouldn’t necessarily refuse, but i would need a high amount of convincing.
Have you tried entering the gaming industry?
No. I mean, if you work in this field you inevitably end up chatting with people from the gaming industry, and discussions are ongoing.
I wish you could pitch it to an agent. (laughs)
Well, you know, one of these days. I would love to work in video games. And, I have various ideas I am very excited about. I refuse to get panicky about it. I would love to do it if it happens, but I’m a fiction writer first and foremost, and I make a living from writing fiction. But if there are people around who want to work with me on games then I’d love to do it. But it’s not something I’m planning to do a great amount of. But yeah, basically, I’d love to.
I guess that’s great news, at least for us gaming geeks.
If it ever happens. If anything calls me. But you know there are so many different projects.
There’s a quote by you from another interview. Again, from quite a while back. “I’m in this business for the monsters. Unfortunately, you can’t really sell books of monsters to publishers. They insist on stories linking them.” Don’t you think that by now, you might’ve gathered a big enough fan base for something like this to float? Like maybe a Book of Imaginary Beings a la Borges, with your illustrations. Or would prefer monsters that make sense only in a story?
No no. I’ve often toyed with the idea of trying to do a book of imaginary beings type thing. Indeed with my own illustrations. Honestly i love the idea. But i do not know if I have – if there would be enough variation for it. I was being slightly facetious in the linking stories. Also, it would never replace writing novels. But mythological monsters, a big collection like that, that would be an absolute joy.
At the Edinburgh writers conference this year you said “what if novelists and poets were to get a fixed salary, of a wage worker?” How would that work? Wouldn’t there be politics? Who gets the money and who doesn’t?
Certainly, and i tried to kind of point to that in a talk. Yes there would be enormous politics. There would be enormous convocation. It’s a utopian proposal, and one I hope is not utopian to the extent of impossibility, but it would require reconfiguring the current system. I think people are smart and on the whole pretty well meaning, and have the abilities to work things out. There would be some kind of ongoing democratic decision about who deserves—let me rephrase that; I don’t like that— who would be appropriate to be paid. You could combine writers of extremely populist fiction, writers of extremely avant garde fiction, poetry. I think people are quite open to the idea of something being important even if they don’t like it themselves. Basically, you are right. Do I think it would be difficult? Absolutely. But do i think they’ll be insurmountable? Not at all. I mean, my god, it’s not that as if the system we have at the moment doesn’t have all kinds of problems and micro-politics, and corruption and backslapping, and vendettas. Rewards to people who don’t deserve it and crushing the careers of people who do. It’s hardly a more rational, progressive way to organize the realm of literature. It’s not like we have a glowing alternative at the moment.
We’re nearing the end of the interview, so there’s the default end question: what are you working on now?
I’m trying to write some non-fiction and a lot of short stories. And I’m working on a novel which will be a long time coming. And there’s also the comic.
Is this another YA novel?
I’m not going to say anything about it really. Simply because I feel very superstitious about talking about works in progress.
There’s one last question I have and it’s is completely optional whether you want to answer it or not. If you have any response to Christopher Priest’s comments at the last Arthur C Clarke Awards. It doesn’t have to be necessarily what he said about your writing but about the awards, if that’s what you want to talk about.
Well… I’m not sure now’s appropriate for me to comment on his thoughts on the awards specifically. Christopher Priest is an eminent writer who’s written impressive work, and i think we all need vigorous, even polemical critiques…so for him to criticize the shortlist, and to do so even in harsh terms is practically his right, and important. We as a field need to take stuff on the chin and examine our work. What I do strongly take an exception to— and I’ve said so to him— is him accusing me of ‘not working hard enough’, or, elsewhere, publicly accusing me of laziness, of not making the effort. He’s said that not only is my writing lazy, but that ‘China should know it. Probably does, but thought he might get away with it’. Now, I’m painfully aware of the limits, the infelicities and inadequacies of my writing. I constantly wish I was a better writer. But I work hard to be so. I try hard to write. If Priest wants to criticize my writing, I hope he would have the courtesy to accuse me of incompetence, rather than indolence.
Sorry that this is a sensitive question, but you know, I had to ask…
These accusations matter. When one’s work is criticized, one should have the humility to consider the attacks, you know, especially if it’s by someone of Christopher Priest’s standing.
Well I can tell you this. Your response is much more dignified than say, Charlie Stross’s response. (laughs)
Charlie’s response was… interesting. Priest’s article put many people in a difficult, relatively impossible situation. Charlie did try to put some humor into it, and he deserves kudos for that. We should take seriously what we do, and absolutely should criticize each other’s work, and if that means being harsh that means being harsh; but there can be a strong pressure to be a ‘good sport’ about it. Charlie’s a great guy and he can look after himself, but I don’t want to take that approach. Because I don’t feel that it’s funny. I don’t want to pretend to be jocular about it. On a personal level I was extremely angry about the accusation of laziness. The accusation of being an inadequate, or worse, writer is a different thing. And I have to take that on and try to improve, and work out where and whether he has points, where I do and don’t agree with him – and I have thoughts on his specific accusations. Some of the things Priest said may have traction, some I’d want to refute. These are all things to be discussed. But as I said, you know, call me an incompetent failure, but don’t accuse me of not working. I work hard at it.
But you have seen Priest since then. You guys must’ve sorted it out. Mano a mano.
No. As I say, the situation is I told him, ‘Accuse me of incompetence (and we can debate the specifics). Do not accuse me of laziness.’
Sorry I had to drag the last part on. But it’s great to know what you think about it.
I will say one other thing– I want to be very clear that he is of course right to swing hard. That should be welcomed. Even when it’s difficult to hear about your own stuff. I want to be really clear about that. But then if you look at – it wasn’t actually in the Clarke piece, but in a different place, he was attacking a bunch of stuff in another story by me, during which he said I’d misappropriated certain words and described me as using ‘chav-speak’. In point of fact what he was describing is a contested usage. On which I’m often and deliberately a liberal (I’m pro certain deployments of ‘onto’ and ‘alright’, for example). But whatever your take on that, his personal accusations against me are quite insignificant when you consider the use of that term ‘chav-speak’. It is from the most repulsive tells of British reaction, the denigration of a certain invented bogeyman, a toxic display of bullying class spite, the sneering Daily Mail axis of British cultural politics. It’s important to have perspective about this. Priest accusing me of being an inadequate or incompetent writer is one thing. Accusing me of being a lazy writer is more personally insulting. But using terms like that, allying himself to a particular climate of ugly reaction is a far, far more serious thing. That, I think, is beyond any pale.
Well, that was enlightening China. It was great talking to you.
