Jeff VanderMeer's Blog, page 6

Views From the Trias House: Aboard the HWS Research Vessel, Searching for Shrimp

(The view from the deck of The William Scandling, headed out onto Lake Seneca, on the hunt for tiny freshwater shrimp.)

This post is one of several about my experiences in the Finger Lakes District in upstate New York while serving as the Trias writer-in-residence at Hobart and William Smith Colleges (Geneva).

One of the unique opportunities Ann and I have had this semester is to accompany biologists on a night expedition aboard The William Scandling, the Hobart and William Smith Colleges research vessel. The mission? To collect from Seneca Lake deep water freshwater shrimp that rise toward the surface at night, and test them for, among other things, mercury levels.

Biologist Dr. Meghan Brown was kind enough to invite us along, joking in an email that freshwater shrimp would not cause as much of a problem for me as the fake freshwater squid I’d created in a story several years ago (reaction to which had included vitriol from a cephalopod expert).

Brown teaches at HWS, serves as the chair of the biology department, and her areas of emphasis include biological limnology. Accompanying Brown were post-doctoral research scientist Dr. Roxanne Razavi, from the Finger Lakes Institute, and HWS honors student Kayleigh Buffington; the expedition served to help Buffington in her studies. Dave Brown piloted The William Scandling with Anthony Madia as the crew member. This was just one of several expeditions Buffington was making for her honors research.

We thought The William Scandling a very impressive ship and found the process of seeking out and gathering shrimp samples to be fascinating. Mostly, we just observed, trying to stay out of the way of Brown, Razavi, and Buffington, who had the process down to a precise set of tasks carried out with well-practiced ease.

First, Dave Brown, with Madia’s help, sent the collection tube or net down over one hundred feet and then brought it up slowly, the mesh and shape of the net designed to specifically gather critters as tiny as the shrimp or smaller, and nothing else. Then Buffington, Brown, and Razavi would collect the gathered water in plastic containers and bring it into the cabin to examine the water and sift through it. The expedition needed to bring back a sample of at least 60 shrimp to test for mercury levels.

As Razavi said in an interview when she joined the Finger Lakes Institute, “The mercury cycle is very complex. Mercury is naturally occurring in the environment, but it is also emitted into the environment from human sources. [Since] there are a lot of gaps on what we know about mercury in the Finger Lakes,” the goal is to uncover the local concentrations of mercury, as “this is a really important region for fisheries, agriculture, and tourism.” (Back in 2014, at a prior job, Razavi was described as a “river detective” uncovering clues about pollution in the St. Lawrence River.)

The net device was sent down again and again, each time coming up with a few shrimp or none, and the tension mounted, something I hadn’t expected. Would the team gather enough shrimp before needing to head back in?! I must say, Ann and I were on the edge of our seats waiting to find out. But, finally, Buffington had her sample and then the ship headed back to shore, stopping only to gather another sample, of invasive mussels.

It was a great night–to have our first extended view of the lake from the water be at night and in the context of getting to watch as Brown, Razavi, and Buffington go expertly through each step–making sure not to contaminate samples–and also getting to talk to them about the ecology of the lake.

Seneca Lake definitely has pollution, due in part to agricultural and wastewater runoff, but Brown told us that, considering everything, the lake continues to function pretty well and be full of life. She also told us about a trip to a lake in Bolivia where their experience with the Finger Lakes was useful in analyzing pollution issues. Brown was kind enough to show us some of the plankton brought up with the shrimp, and to explain the process of carefully documenting the vital statistics of the captured shrimp as well as analysis of the water they were found in.

Along the way, we also learned some fascinating things about earthworm conferences, marmots, and invasive species. In fact, just last year, a grant allowed Dr. Brown to trap and study the bloody red shrimp, an invasive species fairly new to the Finger Lakes District.

Below the cut you can find photos and more information. Some photos in this blog post taken by Roxanne Razavi. Due to the requirement not to use flash so as not to disturb the shrimp, these photos are, of course, somewhat grainy.

The shrimp capture device had several intricate parts, and when about to be plunged into the lake or right after being brought back up resembled a squid…just a little bit. Here, the researchers are about to take the sample and pour it into separate containers.

Dr. Brown watches as another researcher enters data into the log. For long portions of the night, none of the usual white light was allowed, since the shrimp are light-sensitive and would flee the net.

Dr. Razavi from the Finger Lakes Institute was happy about being out on the lake at night and the quantity of shrimp acquired, and in general there was a sense of purpose, fun, and energy that was nice to see.

Inside the research cabin, a little humorous verse.

Once the samples are brought back inside the research cabin, the water is carefully handled to avoid contamination.

Water poured out into petri dishes is examined for shrimp and other tiny creatures. The shrimp are measured and gathered for later analysis.

Success! Shrimp! In the tiny lake of the petri dish.

Kayleigh Buffington engages in what looked to us like the very difficult task of measuring a tiny shrimp. She’s gone on multiple field trips for her research as an honors student in biology at HWS, including to Bolivia.

Ann VanderMeer writes down data from the shrimp harvest, as dictated to her by Buffington. I was later given this same opportunity by Dr. Brown and managed to mess it up. Apparently, being able to write in one area is no guarantee of being able to write things down accurately in another.

Dr. Brown showed us some of the microscopic life to be found in Lake Seneca. Under microscope some of it looked cute, some of it looked creepy, and some monstrous. But most of all I was struck, as I have been by books on microbes and the human body, by just what a wealth of life Earth contains at every level and scale.

The plankton of Seneca Lake, revealed.

Oh dear–there are dozens and dozens of lifeforms in a single drop of water. Some of them made of silicon!

Kayleigh Buffington at the end of a long night–morale still high aboard The William Scandling as the hunt turned to invasive mussels.

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Views From the Trias House: Banding Saw-Whet Owls Near Ithaca

(Banding in progress; later, I held this owl gently but firmly around the chest and the legs before placing her on a branch to adjust and then fly off.)

This post is one of several forthcoming about experiences in the Finger Lakes District in upstate New York as the Trias writer-in-residence at Hobart and William Smith Colleges (Geneva).

My experience observing the banding of saw-whet owls near the house of biologist John Confer outside of Ithaca, New York, had a little bit of everything really: unexpected discovery, the police, and, of course, owls. Since the Finger Lakes District is rich territory for birders and my fiction often includes ecological themes—my first journals as a kid growing up in Fiji didn’t contain personal entries but instead bird sightings–it seemed like potentially a unique experience and one close to my heart. And I accepted the invite not so much to learn how to band owls as to get a broader sense of bird migration studies and a better sense of the area. What I find fascinating about upstate New York, too, is the way in which everything is so much more self-contained than North Florida because the distances aren’t as vast and yet there’s a great variety of landscapes and micro-climates.

I’ve always liked owls, and enjoyed observing barred owls, screech owls, and great horned owls on hikes around Tallahassee. I once even came across an image so weird I didn’t know what I was looking at at first…until it resolved into the form of a tortoise…and the great horned owl on its back, pecking away at the tortoise’s soft bits. All of this owl observation culminating in a great horned owl having a pretty large role in my novel Acceptance.

I also found intriguing that John Confer–a respected “scholar in residence,” retired from Cornell–had also done what I would consider essential work charting amphibian mortality rates on local Finger Lakes roads. These kinds of studies can be grim, but are essential in making the case for crossing easements for all manner of creature, some of them endangered. (Confer told me that in many cases these studies allowed him to save a certain number of amphibians, which was good to know.)

Arriving at John and his wife Karen’s house, I found myself in the company of several veterans of owl banding, people who have been helping John for quite a while, and, to my relief, some who were there for the first time. One of these new volunteers ran a bed-and-breakfast near Interlachen and told a great story about encountering snowy owls. Another had had experience in a job involving a kind of song bird, but had never banded owls before. I enjoyed talking casually about birds and the comfortable vibe of the group.

After a hearty meal of stew and homemade bread, John took us out to the owl nets: fine black-mesh nets set up a little like badminton nets except with pouches that in a sense capture the birds. These nets were incredibly delicate and also just about invisible in the dusk; I feared walking into one so much I decided the better part of “do no harm” was to be less than useful and more than observant. John also mentioned that some of the net pouches hang low, so it’s important to watch the ground so as not to inadvertently tread on a captured owl. Devices that looked like bulky flashlights were revealed to play the saw whet owl’s call—which is remarkably loud and robust for such a tiny bird.

After unfurling the nets and waiting an hour, we went back out and eventually I witnessed the capture and banding of two saw-whet owls. The first I actually got to hold to release it back into the wild. The first one seemed very calm, although its heart was beating very fast. The second, which had gotten more tangled in the net, was less philosophical about its capture and seemed, there is no other way to say it, severely pissed off. This one made a warning sound like popping plastic bubbles in shipping materials…if those bubbles were made of steel and still being popped.

(Weighing the owl in a juice concentrate container!)

I was impressed with the patience of the regulars, which included a molecular biologist, Debbie Mahoney, who had been coming out to John’s house for a few years. One of the other regulars, Julia Gillis, with the help of Madeleine Ulinski, also a regular, spent a lot of time delicately extracting the second owl from the net. I’d been sure this would require cutting it loose, but with their jeweler’s precision and great knowledge of owl anatomy—having a sense of how you could bend the wing bones in a natural way, for example—slowly but surely got the owl out of the net. On the walk back up to the banding shed beside John’s house, Madeleine told me that John’s willingness to let young scientists participate in the banding, and his overall generosity, had changed the course of her career in a very meaningful way.

(Preparing to wrap the owl in cloth for its own protection prior to taking a tiny amount of blood.)

In the banding shed, we all huddled around while the more experienced volunteers demonstrated continued precision and quiet confidence while they weighed the owl, examined its wings, determined it was a female (by weight and other indicators), and then took two tiny drops of blood to study past and present parasitic invasions. After this process, and a period of re-acclimating the owl to the darkness outside, the owl would be set free on a branch to then eventually fly away.

At some point during trying to release one of the owls, a feral cat took too much of an interest and we stood watch, shooing the cat off. One of the volunteers told me she had trapped and relocated to a home far away a prior cat drawn to the area. Another threat are other owls, like barred owls, which have been known to linger and try to pick off a dazed saw-whet before the smaller bird has quite regained its bearings.

(Owl on a branch after banding, as we wait for it to fly off, with feral cat in vicinity. No real light used as this would disorient the owl.)

Then the police came down the driveway in two cruisers—the recordings of saw-whet owl calls, needed to lure the birds to the nets, had been reported by a neighbor, and  the suggestion made that somehow the sound had been interpreted as part of a malfunction at a meth lab! “Local criminal activity” was mentioned and a huge six-foot-four policeman got out of one car and, while a second policeman sat in his cruiser staring at the owl at its eye-level in a kind of blase way, this other, giant policeman stood there looking down at the tiny saw-whet owl still perched on a volunteer’s hand and asked “What is that?” The juxtaposition would have made an amazing photo, but I was afraid taking that photo might be misinterpreted.

But the police were very polite and listened patiently as John and some of the veteran volunteers explained what was actually going on: banding of saw-whet owls during their annual migration. That saw whets are among the only owls that actually migrate and that they had previously caught owls banded at stations far and wide, allowing them to communicate to other researchers the movements and thus get a better sense of range and other useful data.

(Three of the veteran volunteers–Debbie Mahoney (standing), Madeleine Ulinski (foreground), and Julia Gillis–and John Confer, in orange, in the back, regrouping after the police visit.)

The enthusiasm of the volunteers and of John reassured the police quite a bit, and they left after simply asking if John could perhaps turn off the owl noises closer to 10:30 than midnight, for the sake of the neighbors. It was, frankly, a bit of a puzzling encounter given he has been banding owls at this particular station since at least 2013, which is when the molecular biologist said she had first volunteered.

Returning inside, I listened with one ear to more data about owls, as John’s wife, Karen, had promised to show me more of her artwork in the basement of their house. I had no idea that Karen was a wildlife artist, and had been blown away by the art she had already shown me.

(Poster from an exhibition of Karen Allaben-Confer’s artwork. This Google search showcases more.)

Discovering her art was actually one of the more remarkable things about the whole owl banding adventure. It was the molecular biologist who had told me I had to see her artwork, and I’d gone into the living room not knowing what to expect, only to just about drop dead on the spot from the joy because I was suddenly looking at some truly exceptional wildlife art I’ve ever seen in my life. Along with a poster of Karen Allaben-Confer’s art displayed at the Roger Tory Peterson institute!!! And mentored by the famous Don Eckelberry!

My mother used to be a biological illustrator, before computers, and I’ve worked with artists all my life, so I’m really picky, especially when it comes to wildlife art…and so it was just so amazing and unexpected and wonderful. The art in the basement included some stunningly hilarious cartoon art as well. What no photograph could convey is the detail work, the way the textures of the environments around the birds are so well done and so intricate. I mean, I’m totally a texture guy and I could feel the rocks and moss and lichen just from looking at these works.

Another wonderful piece, a print of which hangs in a museum, of a birch tree in the middle and on one side of the trunk a blue background with the leaves and branches white against it, almost like a block print, and on the other side the fine, fine detail of the birch trunk and the branches on that side in intricate rendering, with a nuthatch on the tree on that side. Just a brilliant composition that gave the viewer two different styles in a completely organic way.

(More artwork, including a piece featuring their pet rabbit and dog.)

I didn’t take a photograph of that one or most of the other art in the basement because it felt a little intrusive. But, with permission, I did take the photo above of the rabbit and dog because I wanted to remember it was personal to Karen. The rabbit and dog were pets of theirs for several years, and every morning the rabbit would sit on that stone pillar and the dog would come up and they’d say hi to each other to start the day. Best of friends.

I enjoyed the art tour so much so I missed the third checking of the nets for owl, and then realized, at around 9:45pm that I still had an hour’s drive back to Ithaca. So I said my goodbyes, including to the African parrot that one of the veteran volunteers had brought along, and walked outside.

(Yes, there was even a parrot mixed in with the owls! Brought by Julia Gillis. Photo taken shortly before I left to drive home.)

Earlier, someone had pointed out seeing the space station passing overhead, with a jet below it for context. The fact the night sky was so unencumbered by city lights should’ve led me to expect exactly what happened: I couldn’t see anything around me. The night had become pitch black. So I stumbled forward, rather than go back inside and admit I needed a light—my second mistake. I thought, phoneless as I was, that I could generate enough light by taking flash photos really fast, which proved false. All it did is blind me more.

At that exact moment, a car I thought looked vaguely like a Porsche roared into the driveway and, not helping at all, dimmed its headlights as it stopped, so I still couldn’t see anything. Someone loud and severely agitated shouted out, “Where’s John?! Where the hell is John? That goddamn sound has to goddamn stop!” Still unable to see and thrashing into tree branches, I told him that had nothing to do with me unsure exactly what kind of escalation was in progress and he stomped off. At which point I realized the recorded owl sounds still blaring out had become white noise to me, but clearly not to everyone. In the morning, John’s email to the group alluded to the neighbor, and having calmed him down.

(Possibly the stupidest photo I’ve ever taken–my attempts at flash photos to see my way out to my car coinciding with the arrival of the enraged neighbor in his car with the lights dimmed.)

Post-neighbor encounter, I was even less able to see but even less inclined to fumble my way back to the house. So I stumbled around in the dark until I fell into the ditch across the road beyond the driveway, realized I might be close enough to the car to click the unlock button, and found my way to my car by the sounds it made in response.

Then, I drove home to Geneva, conjuring up the spirit of my grandpa behind the wheel: Thirty-five miles-per-hour all the way back—because there were no lights on the rural roads and critters teeming everywhere along the sides. After owl banding—or, really, after any kind of experience—I didn’t find the idea of now potentially killing an animal at all good. Even going 35 mp, I still almost hit three deer, a couple of raccoons, two extensions of liquid night I’m going to say were weasel-related, and something that could’ve been a skunk but was definitely not a swift beast.

All the way home, when I wasn’t worrying about hitting something with my car, I was remembering how I had held a saw-whet owl in my hands. An owl that had been tiny and calm and had stared up at me with huge eyes. An experience I won’t soon forget, especially in the context of meeting some great people, viewing wonderful art, and the splendid hospitality of our hosts, John Confer and Karen Allaben-Confer.

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Upstate New York: Incident Report at the Residency House / Dear Secret Facebook Diary

(Herman “Sticky” Von Hobart, a friend we knew briefly)

Ann and I have now been in Geneva, New York, for almost eight weeks–living at the Trias House for my writing residency here. It’s been a wonderful experience here at Hobart and William Smith Colleges thus far, and I’ll devote a couple of blog posts to documenting everything we’ve done and seen in the context of HWS and my writing class. But for now I thought I’d preserve an archive of my facebook posts about the day-to-day experience both in Geneva and roving widely. These originally appeared, most of them, under the title “Incident at the Residency House” or “Top Secret Facebook Diary”. I’ve decided to put them in order of most recent to least, along with some of the relevant photographs. Somoe have been lightly edited. – Jeff

October 4: Oh my gawd. What a night. I just drove like my grandpa, 35 mph all the way from the Ithaca area back to Geneva, ’cause there’re no lights on these roads and critters everywhere and after owl banding I didn’t want to kill a critter no how no way. So I’m going 35 mph and I still almost hit three deer, a couple of raccoons, two extensions of liquid night I’m going to say were weasel-related, and something possibly a skunk but definitely not a swift beast. This after an owl night that included the police, a molecular biologist, an enraged neighbor, amazing unexpected art in a basement, holding an owl in my own two hands, talking about amphibian roadkill mortality studies, and staggering into a ditch in total pitch black darkness. May take a little while to process. Photos by the morning. AND THERE WAS AN AFRICAN PARROT TOO.

October 2: The damn turkeys have blocked the road, up here in the Adirondacks. All my hollerin’ seems not to be worth a damn to these turkey-lurkeys. Google, please program “a turkey-free route.”

October 1: It’s been a good couple of days. We attended a wedding of two wonderful people in a land full of tiny cucumbers and giant mushrooms and gorged on amazing salads as well and bought a mouse to hold our cats (it’s a riddle wrapped inside a joke). I learned that FSG will print over 500 advance copies of Borne, which is 300 copies more than my first book, The Book of Frog, sold. I am hopeful that soon I will view Nabokovian wonders at Cornell and intersperse these viewings with banding of owls. This week too the excellent novelist Dexter Palmer visits the campus as part of the reading series I’m curating. We hope he likes our cats and that the questions the students ask are useful. I am 20,000 words into the top secret project that now is not going to be publicly announced until next year oh how I hate patience and how much of it I have to have. I have also just about finished up a story that includes the dispersal across a thousand galaxies of a billion sentient seed pods. The car’s tire light just came on so I should probably stop typing this while driving along an unlit highway in the middle of the night while deer dart all around. Although now it occurs to me that

October 1: Here in Vermont…ask the barista if I can get a dark roast. “it’s all light roast, with accents of either floral or cream or plum jam.” Me: “Then let me get a shot.” Barista: “Our shots have grace notes of baking spice, lavender, or orange peel.” Me: “So let’s put the baking spice shot in with the toasted almond and brown sugar coffee.” Barista: “Just…just put the shot in the coffee?” Me: “Dump it right in.” Barista: “But that will muddle and muddy the grace notes and accents.” Me: “Exactly.” And it will taste like coffee.

October 1: Pretty thrilled that I may get to assist in catching and banding saw whet owls one evening next week. This after a great opportunity to observe scientists gather shrimp and mussel samples out on Lake Seneca. I am hopeful that there is a local marmot effort, like, say, “analysis of a marmot tea party” for a third ecology-adjacent activity.

September 28: This week I have seen two marmots, which is two more than last week, so that’s good. But my joke of photographing a squirrel and chipmunk and putting it on social media with a caption as if I thought the squirrel was the chipmunk’s mother met with some good and bad moments. The good–it was the most popular thing I posted on twitter that day. The bad–Margaret Atwood insinuated I didn’t know a chipmunk from a, well, a squirrel.

Other than that, I wrote more on my secret project even as several other projects are just twirling around in mid-air waiting for people to get off their asses and approve things. We also went to the grape festival in Naples near one of the finger lakes and we ate a lot of grapes and saw a lot of art and ate some more grapes. We have been scarfing down fresh butternut squash, grapes, green beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, and apples like we’re trying to turn ourselves into Arcimboldo portraits. My pants don’t fit any more because all this eating is making my belly tiny.

September 26: Ann and I had a great dinner with a plant biologist and a vegetable entomologist–and learned there is such a thing as a small fruit entomologist, although in fact this is not an entomologist of fruit who is really small. Tomorrow, I get to observe lake shrimp at night on a boat. This weekend, we get to attend a wedding of a really smart and sharp guy in Vermont. At some point soon, too, it looks like I will get to capture and band owls. Hopefully as well I will see another marmot soon. I hate a marmot-less day.

September 25: Out on our usual walk tonight and Ann, behind me, just hauls off and *kicks me right in the ass*. Me: “What the—?!” Ann: “Gotta keep you on your toes. Don’t get too comfortable. Hi-ya!” Karate chop move from Ann. Me: “Huh?” Ann: “It’s good exercise for me. You want me to get good exercise, right?” Me: “Um…” Pondering how *yes, I do* seems like the only right answer, but wondering if that means she’s going to kick me in the ass again. And then wondering, why the hell do I love this woman so much?

September 24: Adorable. A mother squirrel and her little baby.

September 23: Fifteen thousand words into the Sekrit Projekt, I had not expected a marmot and a portrait of a marmot in “the ultra-realist yet brooding style of Gustave Courbet” would play such a prominent role, nor that a woman who turns people into trees would pop up so sudden-like. Nor, on the novella I’m working on that ghost frogs and interdimensional komodos would turn out to have such a symbiotic lifecycle in connection with the asexual seedpod reproduction of sentient mountains. But, so it goes…In other news, I am quite happy that Neo is using the top perches on the two cat trees so much now, as a tall cat is a happy cat. And as an experiment I have been putting a piece of failing fruit outside every night in the same place and every morning it is gone…Also, I have fallen in love with the local small intensely dark purple grapes grown in these parts as well as the butternut squash that is so prevalent and have been scarfing down huge quantities like some kind rampant herbivore–along with lovely green beans and pumpkin seeds. Finally, the month of mimicry for my writing class is over. They’ve done some very good work and we are well-positioned entering the month of secrets…

September 23: Two intergalactic surveillance devices discovered right outside the residency house.

September 21: Is it already Wednesday night? Where did the time go?! Oh, I know–researching southern lit and also hunting down hiking boots and prepping for discussion tomorrow of Clarice Lispector’s roast of…I mean short story…about Brasilia along with thinking through logistics of getting the students to the Toronto book festival and kidnapping some writers for them to talk to. “Where am I?” “You’re in a van full of Hobart & William Smith writing students. Now, spill the beans and we’ll set you free.”…We saw a black furred marmot while driving to an outlet mall today–brazen as you please, mumbling into some stretch of grass. Am excited, too, because not only may I be spending some nights banding owls near Ithaca, but an expedition by boat onto Seneca Lake next week to observe freshwater shrimp cannot possibly end the way my freshwater squid experiment did, can it? But then again, it’s possible I won’t survive tomorrow, when I reveal to my students the last stage of the writing exercise we’ve been doing for the Month of Mimicry. “Write a story that encapsulates the lifecycle and spirit of one of the great mimic moths, minimum of 20,000 words and you must dress up as a piece of wood and convince me that you’re a piece of wood. No arguing now–go forth and mimic. Or is that camouflage. Anyhooo…”

September 19: Bought this great, one-of-a-kind piece centered around the definition of “Leviathan” at Stomping Grounds, a wonderful books and gifts store here in Geneva, NY. Turns out the folks at SG made this themselves. As you may know, I once edited an antho titled Leviathan. (Duck = incidental, but also the new class mascot.)

September 18: This morning at the drug store, the guy in front of me bought cigarettes. Clerk asked for his ID, he handed over his driver’s license, then took it back real fast. “Are you writing down my license number?!” Clerk: “No, your date of birth.” Guy: “Are you sure? I don’t like what you’re doing.” Clerk: “It’s state law to get your DOB.” Guy: “This stinks of Big Brother. Government taking my driver’s license.” Clerk: “I’m just doing my job.” Guy: “You’re trying to steal from me.” Clerk: “And I need your wife’s ID, too.”

Woman: “Why the hell do you need my ID?” Clerk: “You asked for the cigarettes initially. So you’re part of the transaction, I’m sorry.” Woman: “The hell I am. I was just trying to get things moving along because YOU were on the phone and THIS GENTLEMAN”–pointing to me–“was waiting behind us. But YOU were on the phone.” Clerk: “I’m the only one here and had to help a customer on the phone.” Woman: “YOU WERE ON THE PHONE. AND YOU WERE HOLDING UP THIS MAN HERE, isn’t that right, sir?”

Me: “I don’t care. About any of this. At all.”

Woman: “Well, there’s MY thanks for being nice.” Clerk: “What’s your DOB.” Woman: “I can’t believe you’re asking a lady for her age.” Clerk: “I’m asking a cigarette buyer for what I’m legally bound to ask for.” Man: “The GOVERNMENT IS ALL UP IN OUR BUSINESS.” Woman sighs, gives her license to the clerk.

They turn on their heels and stomp out of there, but not before the man, a huge pear-shaped mountain, squints real hard and lets out a loud and incredibly and disastrously noxious and terrifying fart and shouts, “That’s what I think of your government intervention!”

Then they leave. Then I buy my protein bars and say to the clerk, “I hope you have a good rest of the day.” Clerk: “You too.” Me: “I’m really sorry they did that.”

But I need to get out of here before the smell kills me. But I need to time that so they’re already out of the parking lot. But I need to get out of here before the smell kills me. So I lingered as the clerk said, “That’s really not the worst we get in here.”

September 17: This week the squirrels regained control of the feeders and we were unable to drive them off. Soon they will be in the house, we are sure of it. However, life goes on, even if it will soon be under a new squirrel regime–which will just be nuts. This week I accepted an invitation from FSG to write the introduction to the 20th anniversary edition of *Lives of the Monster Dogs* and I finished edits on a novella, “The Journals of Doctor Mormeck” and also made major progress on a top-secret thing I am calling “Project Lambshead.” In addition, I taught two class sessions–Annihilation, Pond, and Eileen; or “the week of solitary women who don’t give a sh*t what you think”–went hiking in nature parks a couple of times, gave a reading that seemed to go well, went to the HWS Friday faculty seminar (environmental and useful), and bought some pickled brussel sprouts…which may remain in the jar for quite some time…

Finally, I must say, to the springer spaniel who lives across the street…I don’t know what game you’re playing, sir, but when I throw a friendly stick for a dog and said dog enthusiastically retrieves it but then insists I chase him down the street…and when I tire of this pursuit and go around the other side of the house to put down some birdseed on the ground because my attempts at putting up feeders have been disastrous…and you, stick still in mouth, poke your head around the corner to observe, then when I approach run away with the stick…I just want you to know you may not be fostering the feelings of good will or upholding long-settled on community standards in quite the way you may believe you are. Still, goddammit, I will throw a stick for you tomorrow.

September 17: At the Women’s Hall of Fame in Seneca Falls, NY. There was one other guy in the museum when we were there, and he decided it was a good place and time to complain loudly to the woman there to answer questions about how instead of the women being displayed in alphabetical order by last name it should’ve been by date of birth and how confusing that was and how he just couldn’t enjoy himself in the women’s hall of fame when all the dates were all mixed up and how was that any way for a museum to conduct itself…and thankfully he shut up then and left because I think everybody in the museum wanted to punch him in the face.

September 13: Ann and I went for a walk and came upon a rare Geneva Slug Marmot *and* a Seneca Lake Marmot. Both were plush. Each had a burrow up against the lake wall, with little balconies looking out on the water.

September 12: Two dudes at the bar, who work for a software company. “They keep talking about project management. This idea is way too good for project management.” AHAHAHAHHA. Then lots of talk of “project-ing,” as in “we’re good at project-ing, We do the project-ing thing well” not “pro-jecting”. Then, “If no one uses the tool it makes sense that the tool is broken, not that they don’t want the tool.” Does it? Followed by “I want to hire one guy for the software team, but if we hire two they’ll be like their own clique and I don’t like the sound of that. Those two will keep things from us.” Followed by Ann, the former software project manager, whispering to me, “I can’t make them any less stupid, but I could solve their problems in five seconds, but I can tell you right now they’d never listen to a girl…You have to understand part of my life for 30 years was being the only woman going into a room with a dozen guys swinging their invisible dicks around so much they couldn’t hear themselves speak.”

September 9: On a hiking trail today, the sole hiker I met says to me, “Why’d ya carry an umbrella? No rain today.” To which I replied you’ll find out in about three miles when the sun’s beating down on you like you’re a tin drum. And as he moved away, I thought, and five miles down the road, you’d’ve appreciated having the sharpened tip when some dude approaches you humming the theme song from Wicker Man…and that dude will be me–and I won’t share my umbrella!. And then seeing him increase his pace, was afraid I’d said it aloud and shouted after him, “I’d never Wicker Man anyone! I’m just a curmudgeon! *Just a curmudgeon!*” But then I realized I *had* thought the first thing, and then I hoped he hadn’t heard the last thing I said. But I still think I was right to bring my umbrella. Even though it didn’t rain. And I think I got too much sun.

September 8: It has been a good week. I found a giant white hair growing out of my forehead very soon after its formation and thus was able to eliminate it before I became a unicorn. I also had an allergic reaction to a container of seafood salad but managed to misdiagnose it as sunburn when I began to turn bright red, but luckily the symptoms subsided and I threw away the salad. Only one bird feeder is functional, so I have taken in my way to just spewing bird seed over the front lawn. Something portentous crapped on the back patio, something not a bird or squirrel, but less portentous than an Amish horse. Still investigating. The plant scientist and her husband and baby were be delightful and the class has not yet revolted or asked for me to be replaced with a copy of Wonderbook. I did try to deliver a thank you note to the house of people nearby for a nice dinner, thinking I could leave it on the step, but when realizing they were actually in their house veered off because it is stupid to deliver a thank you note in person…but then realized veering off at the last second could be seen as ultra-stupid to the denizens inside said house.

September 1: This was a good week. My two class sessions went well despite me telling them to remove the letter “a” from their stories and giving them a complex assignment for the month and telling them one of my current projects is a novella from the point of view of a sentient mountain. I also learned that chipmunks actually like to live in air conditioning units and that squirrels are rat bastards and that a white rabbit lives in our yard but it might’ve been a plastic bag that looked like a rabbit. After three dismal failures, a bird feeder hangs from a tree. I made friends with a stick insect named Herman, and then he disappeared after I’d already made the emotional investment in his well-being. The cats are creeping me out by silently staring at me from close up until I wake up to their unrelenting gaze. The gym here is the same franchise but isn’t run by bro goons, which is nice. I also sold a story with marmots and drinking in it.

August 30: Herman “Sticky” Von Hobart is one of our new neighbors here at the Trias House. He doesn’t say much, he doesn’t move much, but he legitimizes the idea of method acting…and he [as a stick insect] also will give a talk to the students during our month of mimicry.

August 30: Well, this is it…first day of my Trias-Wonderbook creative writing course. The room is all prepped. The syllabi, soon to rise from slumber, lie dormant in their folder sleeves, prefaced by a highlights menu, imbued with life by two hundred pages of required reading, and epilogued by a weird essay. The pads of paper are strictly parallel to the folders, which are multi-colored and crisp. The advance copies of Warren Ellis’s Normal lie atop the pads of paper, the beginning of our strange journey. My teacher notes bristle with presumption and generosity.

August 27: I don’t know if this thing in the crawlspace is friend or foe. But it is…unexpected.

August 27: Slowly, New York state is revealing itself to us…Last night, we ate in a restaurant serving “gator wings.” When we asked the waiter about it, he said, “You don’t want to drill down too far on that one.” This morning, I watched our sole remaining bird feeder get dragged into the street by two squirrels, who proceeded to smash it open and gorge themselves on seed.

August 24: I prefer my crawlspaces sans crawlspace post-it notes left by a previous guest writer?! Actually, never having had a crawlspace in a house before, I am dubbing this space “trance-dance scrawl place” so as to avoid the inevitable creepy vibe.

August 24: This morning I was feeding Neo bits of turkey in the kitchen and I tossed one to him that fell down into the floor vent leading to the basement. It was clear from the wide-eyed look of astonishment that he thought it had vanished into the floor…having never encountered a floor vent before…or having any knowledge of basements. And his second look made it clear he held me criminally responsible for loss of turkey.

August 23: Author fails dramatically to install three bird feeders and winds up just tossing seed all over lawn…while robin gives him the stink-eye from afar.

August 22: Learned Hobart and William Smith’s English Department has had to chase out bats and chipmunks. Immediate reaction: Can you herd them into my office?!? I mean, bats and chipmunks–how can you go wrong? Lots of great conversations.

August 21: A quiet rainy day in the really quite peaceful and lovely house Hobart and William Smith Colleges set aside for the writing residency. It’s a nice space to think and to write. Yesterday was our Day of Exploration–going to the new gym, and then a-roving. We went to a fine arts show at a mansion/botanical garden in a nearby town, and then on a whim drove down to Penn Yan, where questing further we wound up seemingly forever trapped in the (beautiful, wooded, expansive) armpit of an infinitely long lake, with our GPS dropping out and the road perilous close to the high shoulder with the lake right beyond. There were numerous signs for coyote crossings, but we saw none. Finally getting our bearings, we wound up at a family-owned restaurant on the lake shore that was like a friendly ghost conjured up from the 1980s in decor and menu. Yet not at all unwelcome, as the haunting was a superior one–the food was great, from the dated but delicious fondue appetizer through the expertly cooked prime rib and the glistening view of the water beyond.

August 19: Exhausted Neo last night, finally acclimated to the living room and using his cat trees and having learned to use the stairs and gotten used to most of the strange creaks and other sounds. He’s about two-thirds back to his normal self, which is good for just a day or two here!

August 18: First conversation at the new gym here in the Finger Lakes District of NY…”Two people were found murdered behind different dumpsters.” Me: “I just moved here yesterday. Is that normal?” “No, not really, not all the time…you just moved up here, huh?” “Yeah.” “Are you an athlete?” Me: “I’m a writer.” “Okay then, I guess.” “Nice to meet you. I’m going to go work out some more.” “You do that, then.” Me: “Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do.” “Yeah, you do that.” “Yes…that’s what I’m doing. I’m going to go do that now.” “Yeah.”

August 18: Acquired the most important furnishings for the residency house.

August 17: Random conversation in the car today, final leg up to New York state…”Why are there so many preverts out today? Could you go put a shirt on that man for me?” “That highway ad for injury attorneys seemed to imply there are lions in the area.” “Reptiland? Shee-it, that’s what down south we call ‘Florida.'” … “There’s a lot of pretty stuff and wildlife and river on the right side of Pennsylvania and a total bleep of strip joints and preverts on the left side.” …”Why did they welcome us to New York but not to Tennessee?” … “EEEEEEEEEEeeee–aiieee.” “What the hell was that sound, Ann?!” “I saw a Trump sign.”…”Awful lot of wineries in this area.” “You could get a job at one while I teach. To pay for our cat food.” “You could chauffeur me around and shut up.” … “Did the cat throw up?” “No, he just doesn’t like us any more.” …But we’re here now.

August 15: T-minus one hour before we leave for upstate New York, taking our cats with us. They still do not know. They are relaxed, purring, going on with their lives, unaware that we are about to take them on a luxurious four-month vacation where they get to see mice instead of geckos and the weather will not be variations on hot. And they’ll get to see the leaves turn in the autumn while we play the Kinks’ “Autumn Almanac” and we’ll take them on walks with little harnesses so they can go to the bookstore and the local pub. All will be well. Unless, of course, this is all a fever dream from the end of the movie Brazil, and I’m actually right now in a car full of upset screaming cats doing their level best to murder me and Ann.

The post Upstate New York: Incident Report at the Residency House / Dear Secret Facebook Diary appeared first on THE SOUTHERN REACH.

Teaching at Hobart & William Smith: Ghost Modules, Months of Secrets, and Dark Matter

Ann and I are preparing to move up to Geneva, New York, where I’ll be teaching a creative writing course as part of serving as the 2016-2017 Trias writer in residence for Hobart & William Smith Colleges. I’ve finally settled on the main texts for the class, which I’ve set out below. These texts require varying levels of involvement from the students and although I’ve set them out in alphabetical order, they map in interesting ways to the three modules I’ve listed. As usual, I don’t really care too much what genre something happens to fall into so long as there is collusion and contamination and cross-pollination that’s useful to discuss. Sadly, I had to cut a few stories I wanted to talk about, including work by Kojo Laing and Rachel Kushner, because there just wasn’t space. Next time.

The students will use what they learn from these texts and our discussions to create three major works: a short story in which each student takes the same basic plot elements and characters from a published story by an iconic writer and creates their own version; a “fan fic” specific to Aase Berg’s Dark Matter and Amelia Gray’s Gutshot (with the possible intermediary of Donor’s Into the Mysterium; and their own original short story, critiqued in class.

We’ll also be keeping an “Album Zutique,” similar to the one created by the decadents and they’ll get some exclusive new Wonderbook images, including a structural break-down of Adichie’s Americanah.

In addition to the texts listed below, I will be responsible for bringing to the students very brief passages from various books that are of use to their readings and their writing for the class—for example, John Durham Peters’ The Marvelous Clouds, Caroline Levine’s Forms, and Hofstadter’s Surfaces and Essences. Or, on the creative life side of things, Miyazaki’s Starting Point, Sally Mann’s Hold Still, and books on the lives of Tove Jansson, Leonora Carrington, and others. If they wish to follow up on anything of interest in those passages, they’re free to. But the burden of distilling out relevant meanings and echoes falls to me.

Modules

The Month of Mimicry
The Month of Secrets
The Month of Freedom
Epilogue: The Week of Revelations

 

Required Books

Dark Matter by Aase Berg
Normal by Warren Ellis
Gutshot by Amelia Gray (visiting Nov. 2)
Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh (visiting Spring 2017)
Version Control by Dexter Palmer (visiting Oct. 6)
Wonderbook & Annihilation

(additional guests include Kyle Cassidy and Nancy Hightower)

Other Fiction Readings

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Jumping Monkey Hill”
Claire-Louise Bennett, Pond (“Morning, Noon, and Night”)
Michel Bernanos, “The Other Side of the Mountain”
Hassan Blasim’s “The Green Zone Rabbit” and “The Reality and the Record”
Leonora Carrington, “White Rabbits”
Tomas Dobozy, “The Beautician”
Michele Oka Doner, Into the Mysterium
Julia Elliott, “The Rapture”
Brian Evenson, “The Prophets”
Angelica Gorodischer’s “The Unmistakable Smell of Wood Violets”
R. A. Lafferty’s “Nine Hundred Grandmothers” and “Thieving Bear Planet”
Tove Jansson’s The Summer Book (“The Magic Forest,” The Scolder,” and “The Neighbor”)
Ursula K. Le Guin, “Vaster Than Empires…”
Cixin Liu, “The Poetry Cloud”
Clarice Lispector, “Brasilia” and “The Fifth Story”
Ben Metcalf, Against the Country (first five chapters)
Vladimir Nabokov, “The Leonardo”
Nicholas Rombes, “dark drones” excerpt from The Absolution of Roberto Acestes Laing
Amos Tutuola, The Palm-Wine Drinkard (“Dead Babies and Terrible Creature in Bag”)
Catherynne M. Valente’s “Thirteen Ways of Looking at Space/Time”
Joy Williams, “The Farm”
Kai Ashante Wilson, “The Devil in America”

 

For The Month That Doesn’t Exist

Two ghost modules for independent study after class, in preferred reading/discussion order.

Ghost Module #1: (Not the Same) There

“The Salamander” by Merce Rodoreda

“Axolotl” by Julio Cortazar

“My Mother” by Jamaica Kincaid

“Reindeer Mountain” and “Pyret” by Karin Tidbeck

“The End of the Garden” by Michal Ajvaz

Ghost Module: (Not) There

“Cat Town” by Sakutaro Hagiwara

“The Wagon” by Khalida Asgha

“The Discovery of Telenapota” by Premendra Mitra

“Egnaro” by M. John Harrison

“The Little Lambs” by Stephen Graham Jones

“Saving the Gleeful Horse” by K.J. Bishop

The post Teaching at Hobart & William Smith: Ghost Modules, Months of Secrets, and Dark Matter appeared first on THE SOUTHERN REACH.

2016 Shared Worlds Teen SF/F Writing Camp: Bestiary Entries

(Art by Jeremy Zerfoss)

Ann and I just finished our ninth year of teaching at and helping run the Shared Worlds teen SF/fantasy writing camp, based at Wofford College in Spartanburg, SC. You can get a sense for all of the amazing things the students got to do at this link, including bookstore readings, critiques from professional writers, building their own worlds, and much more.

But another activity we have the students do is create a flash fiction based around a “found object,” which is an actual “artifact” Ann and I pass out at the beginning of camp. The students are asked to transform what is often a very mundane object and repurpose it in the world they’re creating.

Something about having a physical thing in their hands that they have to write about helps make what they’re doing more real. These short fictions comprise the main part of the annual Shared Worlds student writing book (see cover above).

In keeping with the theme of transformation, we also have them write author bios where they reimagine themselves as fantastical creatures—to create a Shared Worlds bestiary with themselves as the subjects. This exercise is based on Max Brod creating a bestiary for Kafka’s writing group, in which he described Kafka as a “little seen, moon-blue mouse” with a taste for “bitter herbs.”

To give you a taste of just how great the students’ creativity was, I’ve posted this year’s bestiary entries below, from all 59 students (from 5 countries and 20 U.S. states). The entries include a little bit of everything—jokes about their own names (see: Kat or the Mamilton), references to the worlds they created, reveals of their personalities, creation of new personas, and creations that seem born whole from their imaginations. Since we try to protect the students’ privacy, I haven’t revealed their full names below.

You can find out more about the Shared Worlds camp at our website, or follow us on twitter or on facebook.

(Apparently, there were already some fantastical creatures at Shared Worlds besides the students.)

–The Dalexro is an absolutely fantastic yet incredibly shy sea-blue hippogriff which eats copious amounts of meat, flesh and all. It is enormous but doesn’t use it to terrify others, it is incredibly gentle and kind and its sole purpose to comfort and give nourishment to others.

–The Zorinia is a bright yellow flower, resembling a miniature sun. Its only desire is to attract bees and befriend the gentle creature, but, unfortunately for the Zorinia, its petals are practically dripping with the deadliest poison of all: Sarcasm. Scientists are beside themselves trying to find a cure for its fatal toxin, while the Zorinia, blissfully ignorant of its predicament, blooms brighter with each passing day.

–The Furgao is a small wine-red, winged, weasel-like creature with bright golden eyes. It is a creature that lives in mostly solitude, with the exception of having one or two companions. It eats a variety of foods, but prefers sweet things. It enjoys hoarding random soft and shiny objects.

–The Emsie is a rare and quirky type of cat, skittish and wary of strangers and known to avoid groups of people. To find the Emsie approach alone and slowly – for best results, try offering sweets. This cat is known for its small amount of sleep, tendency to stare at nothing for hours, and creative means of self-entertainment. However, the Emsie is best known for its incredible loyalty to those who befriend it.

–The Lynnx is a creature almost always seen, but never heard, that practices a lifestyle of solitude and darkness in its secluded home. The Lynnx enjoys the taste of grasses and berries much more than that of flesh, and drinks only the iciest of waters. The Lynnx is an odd, two-legged being with a large nose, small paws, an untamable mane, and fur darker than the night sky.

–Mia is a narcissistic but lovable mouse. She likes to think she’s intimidating, but she’s harmless. She is a fiery red.

–Maleda is a spirit cat. Its fur is spotted, much like its relative, the snow leopard, which lives in the be-specked Himalayan cliffs. Its fur is draped with jewels like tears, and its cry sounds like laughter. When its cry and the sound of the wind sweeping the jewels mix, the resulting sound is a melody that draws thought and story and echoes them into the night, begging others to let its magic into their hearts. It is a friend to both dragonkind and ghostkind, and it will often feast with them on banquets of meats, finished with desserts of decadent chocolate.

–The Tortigra is a velvet turtle, richly purple in color, which finds itself inspired when the moon is out. Although shy, the Tortigra is an amiable creature who can be coaxed out of its shell with funny jokes and words of encouragement.

 –The Tenebris habitator is a curious species, primarily dwelling in caves or similarly dark locations. As such, it is nearly blind, making it easily startled by sudden stimuli. Its hind legs are much larger than its front ones, but are positioned in such a way to discourage standing completely upright. It often scavenges for materials to make primitive cave paintings, and covers itself in moss and fungi to keep warm.

–The Aamu is an amethyst-hued owl, and prefers the night to sunshine. Reading and observing everything while gliding smoothly over its dominion. When in low spirits, it can only be appeased with music.

–The tan wolf is an odd creature. To someone who doesn’t know its ways, it may seem confused. It stays quiet and secluded at first, but once it is at ease it is loud and sociable. Its bark is unnervingly human, almost like a cackling man.

–The Chau is a plump starfish that busies itself in quiet tidal pools, but begins to glow when other fellows drift in. The sounds of crashing waves may be discordant noise to them, but are music to it.

–The Molarf loves music and tap dancing even though she is blind. She is tall and lanky with skin as gray as can be. Her hair flows to her knees and looks like a starry night sky- pitch black with solid white stars scattered across her long hair. She has been told that even though she is blind she can beautifully navigate a stage while doing a routine. She loves to listen to any type of music and even plays a few instruments herself.

–The fuzzy Kinchu resembles a parrot and its face looks older than it truly is. The Kinchu contemplates before decisions, sometimes to the point of hesitation, and loves words in general.

–A brown-feathered creature with large eyes, which somewhat resembles a cat. The animal is known to make long annual migrations, but otherwise prefers to remain stationary. Its behavior is generally non-aggressive, responding passively to those who take notice of it, and it can often be found at home in its nest, resting or carefully watching the skies.

–The Kate is a small, bear-like creature with bright eyes and a forked tongue. It has shimmery golden fur and wings of amber, which wrap it in a warm cocoon to protect from frigid temperatures. Its primary source of nutrition is wheat, and it only leaves its den to search for food.

–The Etchells arrives in the summer from a foreign land as part of its migration every year. Living on an odd diet, its social habits change depending on its mood.

–The Alessandra is a nocturnal, cave-dwelling creature that only leaves its cave when forced to. It has weak eyes, pale skin, and no muscle. WARNING: If spotted, do not approach the Alessandra, it will talk your ear off with Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and other fandom references. The Alessandra can be lured out of its cave with books, food, or fandom merchandise, but it is not recommended to disturb the beast.

–The Garcia is a rare type of raccoon, distinguished by its midnight blue fur color. It relies on its intelligence to solve its problems, however, if pushed too hard, it will begin to fight back. Its main interest is its family, and it pursues to complete the task at hand, mainly eating a diet of fruits, insects, and crayfish. It’s very precise in keeping order to its den, and though it can be distracted at some points, it will always make up for lost time.

–Bees?

–A small, fuzzy, blind, little animal with the heart of a lion feeding on the vegetation around him.

–A mouse with fur in #AEB6EC.

–The Elenfare is a curious creature. Always joining herds, packs, and murders alike, though never being in one of its own. It rarely remains still or quiet, always having sporadic yelps and hollers for no particular reason.

–A Kroef is a lion-like animal that has two spiraling horns that come out of its head. The horns give the Kroef the power to tell when someone is lying. They can change size on command. Kroefs are a lilac color with patches of silver. Large feathered white wings adorn their back, allowing them to go where they want. Kroefs love to travel and explore new places. They eat a fruit called Ginju that gives them the power to spit poison. They are fiercely loyal and will protect their companions until death. Kroefs live in the mountains and can see in the dark. If aggravated they can be a danger, but they will be most dangerous if you attack their companions.

–Shifting Dune Man wanders sandy places in the night as a glinting mass trailing behind the vague impression of a human form, all wrought in nebulous particulate. In the pursuit of perfection, it often finds itself poring over its components, searching for those it finds repellent and strives to purge them from the cloud that constitutes its being. In the meantime, though, it likes to manipulate its body mass into puppet shows for the enjoyment of those around it.

–Maya is definitely a human. No question there, right? Ignore the whiskers and the tendency to sleep at any given opportunity. All accusations of being a domestic cat are completely false, despite the pointed mobile ears tipped with fluff. Maya the human enjoys eating sushi, listening to electronic music containing far too synthesizer, and tries her best to avoid doing undignified things while other people are watching. Cats don’t like these things, do they? They do? What are you talking about? Well, I don’t care. They make Maya go to school and do math, and cats don’t have to do that!

–A brilliant creature, but deathly afraid of morning light and water, the skittish Ashdrake is an obsidian-dark dragon with an insatiable sweet tooth. It should not be provoked under any circumstances, for it is terribly sleep-deprived and agitated easily.

–The Kalmur is a nocturnal and night-blue cat like creature with shaggy hair and human eyes that is native to Washington D.C. and the surrounding area, but has since migrated to Indiana, New Hampshire, and the Carolinas. It is an omnivore and is sometimes seen sleeping with house cats or wandering around bookstores or libraries. It is lazy and will often wait until the last possible opportunities to do things. However, it usually does what it has to do well.

–The spindly, wide-eyed, feathery Malu, at first glance, appears to be a rather dull creature. However, upon closer examination it has been found that the Malu hides a layer of soft colorful feathers within its dull outer ones. Its eyes are said to spark wonder and a sense of adventure into all those who get close enough to it to gaze into them. The feathery, wide-eyed, spindly Malu, is an unpredictable creature and thrives when given the chance to.

–The Pearl is a loud Great Dane that can often be seen lying alone with a book across its paws. It is a joyful and bright creature, known to not be the first to run and play, but rather to eat and bark with its playmates. The creature can be seen cradling a pencil between its nails, but is always ready to have more adventures and fun with its friends and family.

–The elusive Suri is a strange beast. It spends most of its time in its lair, coming out only to feed, preferably on something with a fair amount of sugar. The Suri is nocturnal and can become quite violent during the day, particularly in the morning.

–The Brettiteli is a large bird located in the mountains. It’s usually solitary, and drawn to bright and creative objects. People believe that the Brettiteli is sentient, and able to understand human emotion.

–A furry, flying, fanged creature with six eyes is no animal to mess with… Just kidding! The Kalihila is a sweet, loving, and adventurous pet. She loves to eat, because of the mouth on each wing, and, yes, she does have a mouth on her face too. She also has a hound dog nose to sniff out her prey and enormous ears to listen out for it. To catch small insects, which is the Kalihila’s main diet, she springs up with the strength of her tail; it has a bulb shape on the end to keep her balance. She may be a little crazy at times, but she will always stay by your side!

–The average Lee is a reptilian creature of small stature. With an innate need for height, it balances precariously on wooden slabs strapped to its feet. Its four eyes have been described as uncomfortably large, making it seem almost unhinged. When excited, there are known to defenestrate.

–Dressed in widow clothing the Noa marches on endlessly filling in the morbid questions in her mind with more cynical answers as she copes with the reality that is the messed up society of humanity.

–Everyone knew about the Iolanda; this creature tends to roam around after everyone is deep in their slumber. The Iolanda is an irregular and misshaped monster that is covered with slimy skin with patches of black fur on top of that. If someone spots this creature around at night, the Iolanda rolls up in a ball and uses its bad smell to run away any wandering humans. The Iolanda lives in the ocean and eats mostly fish and jellyfish.

–The Mamilton tends to reside in a cave for most of the hours of the day. It requires much sleep, but rarely gets enough. It’s a quiet, nocturnal creature that will only become aggressive if disturbed. Its diet mainly consists of cocoa and nuts. One can identify it by the dark curly hair that covers its large body.

–The AlyKat is a golden retriever that can often be found with its nose in a flower. It mostly eats flowers although it is morally conflicted about this because it really likes flowers. It originated on the world of Serenitus, but has since spread to Suevat Prime, Rigma, and Stryd, and is expected to spread to other worlds in the future. As time passes, it continues to evolve in unexpected ways

–The Perspikaz is a tall, slender beast that often makes a fool out of itself and offends others if only to provoke the laughter of another creature. It is remarkably insightful, for it is born with poor eyesight yet is able to see through walls and tell exactly how a creature is feeling based solely on its body language. The Perspikaz sometimes moves and acts in a very serious and professional manner, and when it is not it relaxes completely and seems to forget what seriousness is. The Perspikaz is an intelligent and passionate creature, yet its positive attributes can sometimes be overshadowed by its love to make an impression, no matter the cost.

–The Riwolf is a miniature wolf that spends most of its time tucked away in caves for no one to see. Once she becomes brave enough to venture into the unknown and meet other creatures, she is not the shy wolf most beings think she is. As soon as the Riwolf is out and about, she forms a bond with the creatures she sees as friends. Although she is a short and quiet creature, she can be fearsome and loud when something disrupts her territory. She does not like speaking in front of crowds, for she becomes completely still; but she works well with small groups.

–In the great depths of an otherwise uninhabited cave, a salamander, known as Jack, glides about the pond, being sad and alone in the dark. Those who walk by the edge of the cave report poor singing and mediocre ukulele playing.

–The creature known as the Rame, despite its love for the outdoors, can almost indefinitely be found inside, due to its irrational fear of confrontation with the human species. It has an unreasonable obsession with foreign places, primarily Japan, and you can perfectly derive an accurate summary of the being from its name.

–The Anna is a furry creature that is small enough to sit on your shoulders – though it wouldn´t do that since it scares everyone and everything that moves. That´s why it thrives in abandoned places such behind library´s furthest shelf or in shade of trees. Overall, this shy beast is very harmless if you keep distance to it; if you come too close, it might say things you better not to hear. Otherwise it really don´t want to hurt anyone – it´s even a vegetarian. It is most creative when it´s rainy, twilight and cool, then it may want to leave small traces of itself in drawings. This way it gets enough attention to its taste.

–The Spillihp, a cat-sized spider covered in forest green fur lives in the forest-covered mountains. It sleeps during the midday in a cave, and goes into hibernation during the summer. Its long legs help it hike through the forest.

–The Chur Mav is a tiny dark purple mammal that represents a bunny, with very small rounded ears and feathered wings. It is very quiet and enjoys being included in things even if it doesn’t talk. However, when the Chur Mav has something it needs to say and wants people to hear it, they will roar to get attention.

–The Robin is a peculiar blue nocturnal bird. It collects bits of shiny metal, twisting them around the nest, and has an incredibly loud squawk. Robins tend to live lower to the ground, as to better hunt the little amount of food it needs to eat to survive. They will collaborate, but are primarily solitary birds.

–The Kgeal is a complex creature with many likings and dislikes. For one, the Kgeal is a small creature with short, soft, and fluffy strawberry blonde hairs all over its long (but still small) body and it sheds a lot. Kgeals stop growing after roughly around 12 years and are known to always been born with terrible eyesight (nearsightedness that basically makes them blind) despite their large, and, typically blue-gray in color, eyes. Kgeals are also known to enjoy quiet and very solitary lives in dark and humble habitats, the dark not helping with their eyesight but a nice and helping factor in the fact that they are nocturnal. Kgeals, however, will faint (like those goats) in instances of being scared from behind, loud noises happening in their ear, being caught in thunderstorms, running out of reading material, or running out of food to eat (although it will die a harsh death if given Brussel sprouts to eat and with prolonged exposure to sunlight and nature in general).

–The Amati is a small, fluffy mouse with observing hazel eyes. It lives primarily in dark places and will come out only if it smells food. The Amati, though usually docile, has a terrible temper and will screech viciously if provoked.

 –The Blischat is a strange, dog-like creature that keeps to herself for the most part. She has a fluffy tail, large ears, and tiny wings that should be impossible to fly with, but somehow she manages. When approached, she will talk in a series of excited yips, but prefers the company of solitary nature. She is rumored to have an enchanting singing voice, but only does so when she believes she is alone.

–The Kat is a Kat and that is that.

–The Grey Lukamusis is a gentle giant. With a towering form and blue eyes it prefers to relax and go with the flow. Somewhat slow at times but quick enough to learn and very creative, the Grey Lukamusis prefers to take the simple solution over the complex one.

–G is a large hairy creature with piercing red eyes. Under its outer skin hair are sharp spikes that are used if anyone gets too close. It is able to retract them when it feels safe, however it is not completely trustworthy with others because it always has its razor sharp teeth and claws.

–The Einsling is a small, intelligent bird with bright red and orange feathers. It enjoys flying at great altitudes and eating a variety of bugs and berries.

–The Acritui Oculi – or the Evening Specter as it is often termed – appears as an ephemeral being, primarily translucent, though seemingly with a capacity to alter its own pigmentation. While encounters with this creature are frankly somewhat rare, it is thought to have a vaguely humanoid form with some reportedly observing the Oculi surrounded by a dark cloak of sorts. It typically resides in relatively warm, humid environs, though it has demonstrated a surprising level of adaption to far colder climes. Oculi also are prone to remain unresponsive to stimuli for extended periods of time with some remarking that this suggests that the creature is perhaps “lost” in thought, though the validity of this theory is currently unknown.

–The Mattie is a creature of many names and expressions. It does not like to go outside, and trying to coordinate meet-ups with other creatures stresses it out. Just let it choose some dessert to eat and nice music to listen to, and it won’t bother you at all.

–The TimmerRat, a quite large species of rodent, is a very strange animal for it collects bells and other metal objects to attach to its pelt. When the TimmerRat walks, it can be heard for miles around due to the overwhelming noise that the many ringing objects create. The TimmerRat is very fond of loud sounds, and often creates them herself.

 –The black-coated wolf is a creature comfortable only in cold environments. It has a strict adherence to a very small pack, though it will often strike out on its own. It has an excellent memory but is frequently distracted. Above all, it prizes devotion to work.

 –In the deepest reaches of the Mint of Legends lies the Evix. The Evix wields not a sword, as he is a pacifist. The Evix utilizes an armored shell to protect him from outside forces.

 –The Wright is a dark purple and green shrew like creature with stars in its eyes. A nocturnal creature that purposely puts itself in dangerous positions and is still surprised when it gets scared.

 

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Big Book of Science Fiction: July Manhattan & Brooklyn Events!

I’m happy to say Ann VanderMeer and I will be in New York City next week to celebrate the release of our Big Book of Science Fiction from Vintage. This is our largest anthology yet–over 1,200 pages covering a century of science fiction. Over 800,000 words of fiction–105 stories. The anthology has already received starred reviews from all four major library journals.

You can join us in either Manhattan or Brooklyn–or both!–with two very different events that promise to be equally exciting!

Powerhouse Arena, Brooklyn, 7pm July 13, Wed. – Ann and Jeff VanderMeer in conversation with Buzzfeed’s Isaac Fitzgerald. Details here. Discussion and Q&A as well as Ann and Jeff in a “read-off” trying to one-up each other with the strangest sentences from a century of science fiction.

McNally Jackson, Manhattan, 7pm July 14, Thurs. – A lively discussion of science fiction, to celebrate the release of The Big Book of Science Fiction (Vintage) edited by Ann and Jeff VanderMeer. Panelists include the multiple-award-winning Ted Chiang, Hugo Award winner and translator John Chu, Hugo Award winner Ann VanderMeer, Washington Post SF critic Nancy Hightower, and Electric Literature’s Halimah Marcus. Nebula Award winner Jeff VanderMeer will moderate. Details here.

Both events will include Q&A and book signing. Please join us for what promise to be very fun events.

 

 

 

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Area X and The Many Moods of the St. Marks Lighthouse

I’m happy to be part of this photo essay on the St. Marks Lighthouse over at the Tallahassee Democrat. There are photos of the Fresnel lens and some great shots of the area around the lighthouse.

While I’m not sure my Area X/Annihilation use of the lighthouse will make many tourist guides for the Florida Panhandle, I do get a fair number of emails from North Florida residents or former residents who seem tickled to recognize both the lighthouse and the general terrain in the novels.

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Eco Watch: Robin Wall Kimmerer in Sun Magazine on “Two Ways of Knowing”

(Robin Wall Kimmerer; more info on her faculty page)

The Sun Magazine recently published a fascinating interview with Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer, who fuses her formal science background with knowledge from her background as a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation. Kimmerer is a SUNY Distinguished Teaching Professor at the SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry in Syracuse, New York. She also serves as the founding Director of the Center for Native Peoples and the Environment.

I encourage you to read the entire interview, which speaks to a holistic and more complex view of ecosystems and the environment–and one that’s useful in thinking about how we combat global warming and biosphere degradation but also in how we re-imagine our relationship to the Earth in a more meaningful and positive way.

It’s  useful,  too, in pushing back against the frequent fetishizing or simplification of the cultures of various Native American and First Nation peoples–first by thinking of these diverse and varied cultures reductively as one culture and second by thinking of their views of the environment as being only “mystical” and not practical.  I’d also argue that within the realm of “traditional” science, Kimmerer’s comments point to a vital fact: while specialization in science is important it can also be extremely limiting.

Here are just a couple of excerpts that I found of particular interest. Again, it’s important to read the entire interview to get the full context.

Kimmerer:

When we use the scientific method in an experiment, we look at one variable at a time. In order to really understand how something works, science says, we must exclude all else. We’re not going to talk about relationships. We’re going to limit ourselves to cause and effect. This notion that you can rigorously exclude all factors save one, and in so doing find the cause, is not part of traditional knowledge.

In the traditional way of learning, instead of conducting a tightly controlled experiment, you interact with the being in question — with that plant, with that stream. And you watch what happens to everything around it, too. The idea is to pay attention to the living world as if it were a spider’s web: when you touch one part, the whole web responds. Experimental, hypothesis-driven science looks just at that one point you touched.

Another important difference is that science tends to want to make universal statements, whereas to the indigenous way of thinking, what’s happening between two organisms is always particular and localized, unique in space and time. Take the example of a bee landing on a flower for a sip of nectar. To the indigenous observer, it’s not some idealized Bee meeting some idealized Flower. There isn’t an attempt to generalize to pollinator ecology, or to say that it’s all being driven by certain physical principles. Those principles may be real, but they aren’t any more real than this bee on this flower at this time on this day with this weather.

***

Western science explicitly separates observer and observed. It’s rule number one: keep yourself out of the experiment. But to the indigenous way of thinking, the observer is always in relationship with the observed, and thus it’s important that she know herself: As I watch that bee and flower, as I study how water moves, as I observe the growth of the grass in this meadow, I understand that the kind of being I am colors how I see and feel and know. Furthermore, my presence might even be influencing how the world is working around me.

It’s important to recognize the relationship that exists between the observer and the observed. In Western science we believe our technologies and how we frame our hypotheses will eliminate our bias. A traditional perspective instead celebrates the relationship. A young person is going to see things differently than an old person. A daughter and a mother and a grandmother will see in different ways. All of these perspectives should be brought to bear. Rather than isolate them, we can incorporate them into the learning process.

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Will pRick Scott, Emperor of the Dread Peninsula, Morph into Trump’s Rump?

By morphing Rick Scott and Donald Trump, I fear that reality would be struck a fatal blow and we would spiral into some kind of nightmare scenario in which “fact” is a fairy tale told to future generations as an extinction event.

(photo source)

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What to Do With 30-Plus Years of Papers, Drafts, Correspondence, Projects?

(“Found object” associated with a series of fantasy novels I wrote in my early teens.)

One project for this year is to get a handle on 30-plus years of papers, correspondence, rough drafts, and what I would call “project histories.” This includes a lot of material from before email and the internet, which means sometimes quite long letters with other writers and people in publishing, some of them well-known at the time and some of them now quite well-known but obscure then. It also includes all of my wife Ann VanderMeer’s correspondence and history with projects like her indie press mag The Silver Web (fiction and art) and from her five-year stint at Weird Tales. And because we were active in small press in the 1980s-90s, there’s a treasure trove of old issues of horror and fantasy magazines not only now defunct but also not much mentioned on the internet, because they existed pre-internet or just on the cusp.

(My sister Elizabeth and me, in Fiji.)

The project histories are things like a complete record of correspondence, process, editing, and PR for Stepan Chapman’s The Troika, which we published in 1996 and was the first book from an indie press to win the Philip K. Dick Award. But also the complete histories of most of our anthologies–putting them together, etc. Ann’s been very good about keeping that stuff organized in filing boxes. In addition, I have a pretty good record of my start as a poet submitting to poetry magazines and of my various magazine projects in the 1980s and 1990s. Lots of stuff connected to fantasy/SF but also to the literary world.

Then you add on top of that my (sometimes chaotic) history of drafts of novels and stories, along with editorial correspondence, and right now it all fills a rather large storage unit. Especially since some of the stuff dates back to when I began writing when I was eight or nine.

(My first, self-published collection, with illustrations by my mother. Still have the original layout pages.)

I have no idea if any of this stuff is valuable to anyone, or of use, but I do have a general sense that I shouldn’t dump it all in the backyard and have a bonfire, either. Hopefully this year at least we’ll get around to cataloguing and organizing the stuff that needs to be gone through.

(Correspondence from Thomas Ligotti and Rikki Ducornet, two of my favorite writers.)

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