The other reason a wealthy male protagonist worked for me is that I was wrestling with questions of neocolonialism at the time, as a US citizen teaching English in South Sudan. Those concerns are all over the book, especially in the central conflict between oral and written cultures. As a foreign English teacher, I inhabited an enormously privileged position, and so it wasn't hard to get into the head of my elite young traveler, Jevick. I never felt like I had to struggle to understand him. I don't know whether he's a convincing male character or not. I think he's a convincing young person, and a convincing student.
Coming from Tyom where, I imagined, the culture of the people was defined by oral tradition, my own fingers tingled as if I, a shadow to Jevick, observed him discover the magic of words. After listening to his tutor explain to him that the “row of graceful figures he had written” was actually Jevick’s name, he concludes, “only when he had described all the signs several times, repeating my name, did I understand with a shock that I was in the presence of sorcery: that the signs were not numbers at all, but could speak, like the single-stringed Tyomish harp, which can mimic the human voice...”
By then, I fell and fell hard, understanding with intimacy the powerful invisible world Jevick had discovered. The world of words, language, story — and the fact that words flow differently through your ears than they would through anyone else’s – simply because we are each unique.
Even moreso, I was fascinated with Jevick’s relationship with Jissavet, an islander girl who had died and whose ghost was haunting Jevick. If, for no other reason than sensationalistic morbid curiosity, I asked Sofia if she has had any supernatural experiences with ghosts or spirits.
I have not. (I do teach at a university that's supposed to be haunted...) The relationship between Jevick and Jissavet is inspired by the poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, especially The Duino Elegies. The combination of beauty and terror represented by Jissavet, who is sometimes called a ghost and sometimes an angel, comes straight out of Rilke. In the "First Elegy," for example, he writes: "Every angel is terrifying."
Sofia had unfolded so fluidly and languidly in her debut novel, as if gently whispering in a lover’s ear, the world of Olondria, which, with every turn of the page, increasingly grew more complex in its cultural, folkloric, religious, and supernatural customs.
Small wonder that it took her a decade to coalesce her thoughts into a novel. When you live with a story for such a long period of time, how much of it becomes you, is you, I wondered? Sofia has created an entire world for herself within this span of time. She has in her possession sacred Olondrian writings, for example, and outlines of Olondrian folktales that did not end up in the final novel. I wanted to know if she found that the act of creating these items added to her creative or personal grown in some way.
What does playing add to a child's life or personal growth? I think that's another way of putting the question. I don't know the answer, though I think a psychologist might. I wanted to create a world, so I did, and it was marvelously fulfilling and fun. I kept asking myself: why doesn't everybody do this? Which is yet another way of putting the question, I guess! Why isn't everybody creating an alternate world and all its folklore and sacred texts? What is the matter with people?
To give a more serious answer--I do think the desire to create another world is connected to a sense of not belonging in this one. I think a lot of fantasy and science fiction writers feel that way, on some level. And of course there are lots of different reasons for that feeling. In my case, being mixed, Somali and Swiss-German Mennonite, I have actually had people ask my ethnicity and then, when I tell them, say: "No!" Just "No!" right to my face. When that kind of experience is repeated often enough, you really wind up feeling like an alien. In Olondria, on the other hand, I fit in perfectly. I look like a native. I know all the dances. I've read all the books.
I mistakenly believed that Sofia’s published poetry and short stories (found on her website: www.sofiasamatar.com) were created at the same time she was writing “A Stranger in Olondria.” The push and tug of writing short stories versus a novel is a difficult beast for me — and perhaps other writers. I asked her what it was about “A Stranger in Olondria” that kept pulling her back during her writing process.
First, a tiny correction: I didn't start writing poetry, short stories, or nonfiction until A Stranger in Olondria had found a publisher! While I was revising it, I wrote four other novels that are really terrible. I think one reason they're so bad is that I wasn't committed to them, in love with them, the way I was with Stranger. They are hopeless books, written during a period of constant rejection, produced by a feeling that since the world didn't want what I really loved, I'd have to try something else. So rather than A Stranger in Olondria pulling me back, it was more that I never left, I couldn't leave, I couldn't abandon this book into which I'd put everything I had. And although it seemed like I'd never get it published, I couldn't rid myself of the conviction that it was worth something.
What — wait a minute — you mean to tell me she struggled as much as I do on a regular basis — that there is hope out there for struggling writers? What is that old saying, something about sweat and talent; success is 90% sweat, 10% talent? Sofia too, like many of us, struggles to create a consistent flow in her creative process.
This definitely applies to my life now, as I'm currently working on a new book, as well as revising the sequel to Stranger and writing three essays, a short story, and the answers to this interview! How do I create a consistent flow? I don't think I do! I'll flow with one thing for a couple of days, then switch to another. It often feels chaotic, but it also gives each piece a chance to "rest," and I return to it with fresh energy and a sharper eye. I mean, that's what I tell myself. But a lot of the time it's a huge mess. I'm surrounded by random little notebooks and scrawls on napkins and receipts. My computer freezes because I have too many windows open.
And with a fury too — after finding a publisher, Sofia went on to publish around 30 or so poems and short fiction between 2012 and 2014!
Indeed, those among us whose tongues are tied up in prose may have a thing or two to learn from Sofia’s journey. She has managed to, in a sense, at least to me, break ground in this genre bringing us speculative fiction that flows evenly between literary fiction and fantasy. I guess if you are in my shoes, if critiques to your work vary from “this is too literary for my tastes” to “there’s too much sci-fi in this story,” you may just have to rely on faith and belief in your own work.
Well, if that's what people are telling you, then you know all about it! I got those same comments from agent after agent during the five years I spent looking for one. "How lovely this is! I cannot sell it ever." And in the end I sold the book myself, without an agent, by walking up to Gavin Grant at the Small Beer table at WisCon, introducing myself, and saying "I've written a book." I wish I had some great advice here, but that's really all I've got. If you can't find an agent, try to make do without one. If you can somehow get your work out there, and people enjoy it, then the agents will come to you. I did finally sign with an agent--just last week!
Something else that comes up quite often in “A Stranger in Olondria” is language and the way in which words (and thoughts?) are pronounced. Language is something that is a personal passion and guilt of mine. The constant chasing of my own mother tongue, Vietnamese, which I have been divorced from for more than 30 years, speaking only the Americanized version of the language – looms over me constantly as if shaking its head in dismay. It's a longing that won’t go away. The desire to reach the type of fluency that allows one an intimacy with a language that cannot be learned through Rosetta Stone or workbooks. I marveled at Sofia’s fluency with multiple languages.
I'm only fluent in two languages: English and Arabic. At different times in my life, I've had fluent French and Kiswahili, and decent Zande (I've dreamt in all of them), but those are really rusty now! I love studying languages and always want to pick up a new
one, but Arabic is the only language, other than my native one, that I "feel" in the way I think you mean. This intimacy with Arabic is one of the most precious gifts I've received in life. It's all over the place in my writing: in my poems, in Jevick's experience of learning to read--which was lifted directly from my own experience of learning to read Arabic--in the cadence of certain stories and passages, and in the role epic poetry plays in the Olondria sequel, The Winged Histories.
After a decade of pouring herself into the mold of “A Stranger in Olondria,” Sofia swept a series of awards for her work winning the World Fantasy Award for Best Novel, Crawford Award for Best Fantasy Debut, and the British Fantasy Award for Best Novel (the Robert Holdstock Award). She also won the John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer. She was also a finalist for either “A Strange in Olondria” and her short story “Selkie Stories Are for Losers” or both for multiple other awards: the Nebula, the Hugo, the Locus Award, and the Rhysling Award among others.
Now that’s what I call a warm reception.
Thank you for joining me in sharing this moment in time with author, Sofia Samatar.
(Back to Table of Contents)
Book Review: Time's Edge, by Rysa Walker
Review by Caitlin Seal; published February 19, 2015
In Timebound, Rysa Walker tells us there's a natural order to the world. Socks come before shoes, and usually grandchildren are born after their grandparents. But things tend to get a little wonky when your grandparents are stranded time travelers and one of them is trying to take over the world.
Walker’s Chronos Files series follows the adventures of Kate — a reluctant young time traveler who must help stop her grandfather’s plot to rewrite history. Book one, Timebound, was a fun mix of adventure, intrigue, and history that jumped onto my top ten list for YA and left me excited to pick up the sequel, Time’s Edge, when it hit shelves last October.
What grabbed me most about the series were Walker’s characters and her vivid depictions of American history. Kate is tough and driven, but not as overwhelming as some other YA heroines who share those traits. Her strong bonds with her parents and grandmother are a nice change in a genre where families are often absent or estranged. In Timebound, Kate traveled to the Chicago World Fair to stop a murder that would have written her out of existence. I was excited to see what new locations Walker would explore, and book two did not disappoint. In Time’s Edge, Kate bounces between 1905 Boston and depression era Georgia to collect the keys of other time travelers before her grandfather can turn them to his own purposes. Walker does a great job establishing a strong feeling of place in both locations, while still keeping the action moving.
Time’s Edge often lingers to contemplate the nagging moral questions of saving people or letting them die to protect the supposedly ‘true’ timeline. Figuring out what was meant to happen isn’t quite a simple as it appeared in book one. And it turns out that knowing someone is meant to die doesn’t make it any easier to watch. As her grandmother’s cancer worsens, Kate is forced to make her own choices about when to protect and when to let go.
One thing you won’t find in the Chronos Files is a detailed discussion of how time travel might actually work. The system of keys and genetic modifications has an almost mystical quality that invites the reader to accept without asking too many questions. This doesn’t come as a surprise since YA SF tends to be light on scientific explanations, and for the most part it doesn’t distract from the story.
If you’re like me and use audio books to squeeze in more reading time, I’d highly recommend looking at this series. Not only are the books good, but Kate Rudd’s narration is some of the best I’ve heard. She’s one of those rare actors who has the range to do both male and female voices without coming off as squeaky or growly.
Time’s Edge ends with enough of a hook to leave readers curious for the third (and final) book of the series, which is set to release some time this September.
Series: The Chronos Files (Book 2)
Paperback: 450 pages
Publisher: Skyscape (October 21, 2014)
ISBN-10: 1477825827
ISBN-13: 978-1477825822
(Back to Table of Contents)
About Fiction Vortex
Fiction Vortex, let’s see …
A fiction vortex is a tornado of stories that pick you up and hurl you through a barn to find enlightenment on the other side. It’s a whirlpool of fascinating tales so compelling that they suck you in, drag you down to the bottom of your mind, and drown you with incessant waves of glorious imagery and believable characters.
Nope.
A fiction vortex is an online speculative fiction magazine focused on publishing great science fiction and fantasy, and is run by incredibly attractive and intelligent people with great taste in literature and formidable writing prowess.
Not that either. But we’re getting closer.
Founded in the 277th year of the Takolatchni Dynasty, Fiction Vortex set out to encourage people to write and publish great speculative fiction. It sprang fully formed from the elbow of TWOS, retaining none of TWOS’s form but most of its spirit. And the patron god of writers, the insecure, the depressed, and the mentally ill regarded Fiction Vortex in his magic mirror of self-loathing and declared it good, insofar as something that gives writer’s undue hope can be declared good. Thereafter, he charged the Rear Admiral of the Galactic 5th Fleet to defend Fiction Vortex down to the last robot warrior.
Now we’re talking.
Take your pick. We don’t care how you characterize us or the site.
Fiction Vortex focuses on publishing speculative fiction. That means science fiction and fantasy (with a light smattering of horror and a few other subgenres), be it light, heavy, deep, flighty, spaceflighty, cerebral, visceral, epic, or mundane. But mundane in a my-local-gas-station-has-elf-mechanics-but-it’s-not-really-a-big-deal-around-here kind of way. Got it?
Basically, we want imaginative stories that are well written, but not full of supercilious floridity.
There’s a long-standing belief that science fiction and fantasy stories aren’t as good as purely literary fare. We want you to prove that mindset wrong (not just wrong, but a steaming pile of griffin dung wrong) with every story we publish. It’s almost like we’re saying, "I do not bite my thumb at you, literary snobs, but I do bite my thumb," but in a completely polite and non-confrontational way.
We've got more great stories online, with a new story twice a week. Visit our website FictionVortex.com, follow us on Twitter: @FictionVortex, and like us on Facebook: FictionVortex.
(Back to Table of Contents)
Fiction Vortex - February 2015 Page 5
