Writers write for many reasons: money, status, prestige. I write because I have an itch writing scratches. I used to paint, now I write. I write in a non-mainstream surrealist style that allows me to exorcise MY demons for your experience. I abhor 'genre' and wish books were marketed A-Z by Author name.
Anyway, here's an interview I just did about the book that might shed some light on this work ethic.
PLANET OF THE OWLS, novel:
Mark R. Brand: Hey Mike, thanks for taking some time to talk with me a little bit about Planet of the Owls. I've just finished reading it and I have to say I'll never look at birds the same way again. I heard Paul is shipping the first bunch of copies with a feather included?
Mike Philbin: Feathers as the new filler content? I heard Paul's attempt to spread bird flu and lice faltered at the first hurdle. The art of true understanding with Planet of the Owls (and Bukkakeworld) is to remember the works of Stanislaw Lem in Soviet Russia—it was all subtext. That's the only way true understanding will prevail: to think, to question. If people are looking more closely at the way the world is, then my job is done and I can retire.
Brand: Additionally, I was curious if Hitchcock made it into your pantheon of influences. Hitchcock himself was somewhat genre-defying and did make a movie about avian belligerency.
Philbin: Hitchcock was a unique director, but Planet of the Owls has more to do with Planet of the Apes than The Birds.
Brand: The imagery of angels in this book was one of my favorite things about it. That they might be some sort of prismatic, unknowable meta-creature I found to be very imaginative and engaging as a reader. What made Planet of the Owls different, though, is that even though these creatures are beyond the scope of human comprehension, we could comprehend them for the sake of reading the story. When we get angelic or immortal characterization in ordinary fiction, it generally leaves me feeling like the writer just isn't trying hard enough. I felt exactly the opposite about Planet of the Owls. It was almost as though the "angels" were a steady still-point that the rest of an otherwise occasionally-wobbly narrative revolved around. Tell me more about where this came from.
Philbin: The 'narrative wobble' is probably because I don't write to storyline. I hate clean and tidy narrative resolution—it's a scourge on the book industry. A writer should write, anecdotally, with passion, and the reader will be carried along by his voice. Stories should evolve at their own behest. Most of what Planet of the Owls is about is DISCOVERY. The main characters on both sides have no idea of how and why; they're both lost. Do they find themselves? Does anyone? The idea of Owls came from the staring eyes that I used to dream about when I was a small child. The idea of the angels came from the very simple concept of "We can never truly understand what those who rule us have in store for us". As far as the angels being a steady still-point, remember, the angels are everywhere at all times, they are everything in between, they are not to be trusted.
Brand: I want you to know that the scenes in the Oxford apartment with the owl, the feedings, the (gulp) nesting, are some of the most gut-wrenching, lunch-losing things I've ever read, and you own them. That's not a question, that's just a statement. Slash-by-strangle recounts of the careers of serial killers read like children's board-books compared to some of this stuff. Here's a question: You DO realize that no one who reads this book will ever look at you quite the same way again, right?
Philbin: I owe all my love of the heinous, sinister and criminal to that great thinker David Cronenberg. There was a radio interview back in the late eighties, I think it was BBC Radio 4, and he was rattling on about body appreciation being more than skin deep: "We should have an award for best spleen, most efficient kidney and most symmetrical vulva." Horror should never be merely entertaining, it should get to the root of prejudice and jingoism. In a Hertzan Chimera past life I did a collection of stories called Animal Instincts and it's a theme I've been fascinated with all through my twenty years of writing. Anything to break the complacency of the reader.
Brand: Do you have any sort of strategy to minimize and contextualize the fallout from your work? By this, I mean take Marilyn Manson for example again: he has never apologized or waffled in his conviction toward bringing his vision of music to us. He takes the rest of the world lightly, but his own work very seriously, and he expects others to do so as well just offhand. I get the same sort of feeling about you and your work in general, as evidenced by your general professionalism in the community as well as your enthusiasm for promoting not just yourself but the entire institution of independent speculative fiction. Some would say that the best way to deal with random, unfocused criticism is to just ignore it, which you seem to do well. On the other hand, how do you hand this book to someone close to you? Do they have any inkling of what they're about to delve into? That is to say, is the Mike Philbin we might meet in a Starbucks the same guy that writes about bestiality and other hideous topics? How does that all play out?
Philbin: The Mike Philbin you'll meet in Starbucks is staring right at you asking WHY ARE YOU ASLEEP, HUMANITY? The only acceptable fallout from my work would be that writers realise they can write whatever they want, share with 'the reader(™)' whatever horror they can imagine, bring out in the reader their true personal horrors in a way that will make that reader go, "Christ, horror's really horrific again. That hasn't happened for a looooooong time. I don't even wanna open the book for fear of where it will take me." That's the fallout I want from my writing, that people have a preconceived fear of it, even before they open it. That they'll feel uncomfortable even having the thing open on a bus, train or aeroplane in case anybody sees them at it. The reader should be ashamed that they're reading these books.
Brand: In view of your discomfort/distrust of labeling, I won't bother trying to locate you in any sort of plane of speculative fiction sub-genres, but perhaps you could share with us some of the sorts of material that inspire you or you just plain enjoy? You seem to enjoy movies as well as books, which most current writers in all genres could say is true of their influences. You talked above about modern fantasy, social writings, and classic science fiction and horror as potentially influential to Planet of the Owls, but the same could largely be said for most of the fiction that Silverthought puts out. What influences or atypical points of view do you have that would surprise us?
Philbin: Wow, this makes me sound like I should give a shit if you're entertained or not. Here's what I think: all genre is a scam to belittle the creative power of an artist. Don't trust publishers, don't trust agents, don't trust your mommy and your daddy. Carve your own furrow in the ground with your own gouging manhood. AKA get a pair and don't be afraid of 'someone giving you a funny look'. You're dead soon and then it won't matter.
Anyway, here's an interview I just did about the book that might shed some light on this work ethic.
PLANET OF THE OWLS, novel:
Mark R. Brand: Hey Mike, thanks for taking some time to talk with me a little bit about Planet of the Owls. I've just finished reading it and I have to say I'll never look at birds the same way again. I heard Paul is shipping the first bunch of copies with a feather included?
Mike Philbin: Feathers as the new filler content? I heard Paul's attempt to spread bird flu and lice faltered at the first hurdle. The art of true understanding with Planet of the Owls (and Bukkakeworld) is to remember the works of Stanislaw Lem in Soviet Russia—it was all subtext. That's the only way true understanding will prevail: to think, to question. If people are looking more closely at the way the world is, then my job is done and I can retire.
Brand: Additionally, I was curious if Hitchcock made it into your pantheon of influences. Hitchcock himself was somewhat genre-defying and did make a movie about avian belligerency.
Philbin: Hitchcock was a unique director, but Planet of the Owls has more to do with Planet of the Apes than The Birds.
Brand: The imagery of angels in this book was one of my favorite things about it. That they might be some sort of prismatic, unknowable meta-creature I found to be very imaginative and engaging as a reader. What made Planet of the Owls different, though, is that even though these creatures are beyond the scope of human comprehension, we could comprehend them for the sake of reading the story. When we get angelic or immortal characterization in ordinary fiction, it generally leaves me feeling like the writer just isn't trying hard enough. I felt exactly the opposite about Planet of the Owls. It was almost as though the "angels" were a steady still-point that the rest of an otherwise occasionally-wobbly narrative revolved around. Tell me more about where this came from.
Philbin: The 'narrative wobble' is probably because I don't write to storyline. I hate clean and tidy narrative resolution—it's a scourge on the book industry. A writer should write, anecdotally, with passion, and the reader will be carried along by his voice. Stories should evolve at their own behest. Most of what Planet of the Owls is about is DISCOVERY. The main characters on both sides have no idea of how and why; they're both lost. Do they find themselves? Does anyone? The idea of Owls came from the staring eyes that I used to dream about when I was a small child. The idea of the angels came from the very simple concept of "We can never truly understand what those who rule us have in store for us". As far as the angels being a steady still-point, remember, the angels are everywhere at all times, they are everything in between, they are not to be trusted.
Brand: I want you to know that the scenes in the Oxford apartment with the owl, the feedings, the (gulp) nesting, are some of the most gut-wrenching, lunch-losing things I've ever read, and you own them. That's not a question, that's just a statement. Slash-by-strangle recounts of the careers of serial killers read like children's board-books compared to some of this stuff. Here's a question: You DO realize that no one who reads this book will ever look at you quite the same way again, right?
Philbin: I owe all my love of the heinous, sinister and criminal to that great thinker David Cronenberg. There was a radio interview back in the late eighties, I think it was BBC Radio 4, and he was rattling on about body appreciation being more than skin deep: "We should have an award for best spleen, most efficient kidney and most symmetrical vulva." Horror should never be merely entertaining, it should get to the root of prejudice and jingoism. In a Hertzan Chimera past life I did a collection of stories called Animal Instincts and it's a theme I've been fascinated with all through my twenty years of writing. Anything to break the complacency of the reader.
Brand: Do you have any sort of strategy to minimize and contextualize the fallout from your work? By this, I mean take Marilyn Manson for example again: he has never apologized or waffled in his conviction toward bringing his vision of music to us. He takes the rest of the world lightly, but his own work very seriously, and he expects others to do so as well just offhand. I get the same sort of feeling about you and your work in general, as evidenced by your general professionalism in the community as well as your enthusiasm for promoting not just yourself but the entire institution of independent speculative fiction. Some would say that the best way to deal with random, unfocused criticism is to just ignore it, which you seem to do well. On the other hand, how do you hand this book to someone close to you? Do they have any inkling of what they're about to delve into? That is to say, is the Mike Philbin we might meet in a Starbucks the same guy that writes about bestiality and other hideous topics? How does that all play out?
Philbin: The Mike Philbin you'll meet in Starbucks is staring right at you asking WHY ARE YOU ASLEEP, HUMANITY? The only acceptable fallout from my work would be that writers realise they can write whatever they want, share with 'the reader(™)' whatever horror they can imagine, bring out in the reader their true personal horrors in a way that will make that reader go, "Christ, horror's really horrific again. That hasn't happened for a looooooong time. I don't even wanna open the book for fear of where it will take me." That's the fallout I want from my writing, that people have a preconceived fear of it, even before they open it. That they'll feel uncomfortable even having the thing open on a bus, train or aeroplane in case anybody sees them at it. The reader should be ashamed that they're reading these books.
Brand: In view of your discomfort/distrust of labeling, I won't bother trying to locate you in any sort of plane of speculative fiction sub-genres, but perhaps you could share with us some of the sorts of material that inspire you or you just plain enjoy? You seem to enjoy movies as well as books, which most current writers in all genres could say is true of their influences. You talked above about modern fantasy, social writings, and classic science fiction and horror as potentially influential to Planet of the Owls, but the same could largely be said for most of the fiction that Silverthought puts out. What influences or atypical points of view do you have that would surprise us?
Philbin: Wow, this makes me sound like I should give a shit if you're entertained or not. Here's what I think: all genre is a scam to belittle the creative power of an artist. Don't trust publishers, don't trust agents, don't trust your mommy and your daddy. Carve your own furrow in the ground with your own gouging manhood. AKA get a pair and don't be afraid of 'someone giving you a funny look'. You're dead soon and then it won't matter.