John Gonzalez (Impala)
Were there any particular
writers or stories that influenced the writing of the story that will
be appearing in Trampoline? If so, how exactly did they influence
the writing of your story?
The only outright influence was a scholarly book entitled Postmodernist
Fiction, by Brian McHale. His thesis was that modernism was primarily
concerned with epistemology (how does the mind work, what can it know?),
whereas postmodernism was primarily concerned with ontology (what
world is this, or is there more than one?) My ambition for the first
draft of Impala was to write a story that equally supported two disparate
interpretations, by the first of which the father was insane and had
kidnapped his son, and by the second of which the son was an AI construct
and the father was on a journey through space. Fortunately, once I
had the sound of the child's voice, all the intellectual pretension
was revealed to be exactly that, and it dropped away in subsequent
drafts.
What's your favorite cocktail?
A Strawberry Daiquiri. I'm exceedingly manly, so I can get away with
froo-froo drinks.
Which of the seven deadly sins
is your favorite these days?
Lust is my perennial favorite. So why do I live in Michigan?
What's your favorite rule of thumb?
-No one can die if the sun is shining.
So, come out with it, already
-- you really believe in alien abductions. Don't you? All sci-fi writers
do...right?
It's mass hysteria, man. No different from the satanic ritual abuse
craze. There are lots of people out there who desperately (and unconsciously)
need a way to explain why they feel so flawed and weird, and plenty
of crackpot gurus to serve them the explanation de jour. Were I a
betting man, I'd put my money on "no abductions."
Who's been eating my porridge?
Former Mayor Rudolph Giuliani.
What immortal hand or eye
could frame thy fearful symmetry?
Alexander the Great, wearing Isotoner gloves, or Luis Bu–uel, slicing
at his iris with a straight razor.
What has it got in its pocketses?
The one pirogue that rules them all.
What rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches toward
Bethlehem to be born?
Lou LeFeber, State Farm Insurance Salesman.
What has it got in its 'pocalypse?
A twenty megaton pirogue.
How far is it to Babylon?
Down the street, left at the light, past the Parthenon, past the
pyramid, hang a left, there you are. If you hit the Great Wall you've
gone too far. Turn around.
Can I get there by candlelight?
You'll need a mood ring.
Can this cockpit hold The vasty fields of France? Or may we cram Within this wooden O the very casques That did affright the air at Agincourt?
No.
Can you call spirits from
the vasty deep? Will they come when you do call for them?
Yes.
What have you done with Dr. Millmoss?
I did nothing with the man. He left town suddenly. He gave no word
as to his destination. He is certainly not in the basement, so there
is no need to look there.
Biographical sketch of someone you know:
Born in 1962, hydrocephalic. Recruited by CIA to provide bio-power
for massive glandular spike computer. Pinpointed locations of socialist
atomic scientists 1971-1989, laying groundwork for extraction/assassination
activities. Transferred to Cerberus attack Satellite A-51 in 1991.
Used mind control amplification rig to force Kurt Cobain to write
songs on the Nevermind album, deliberately triggering the grunge cultural
moment for massive corporate exploitation. Current whereabouts unknown.
What office supply best
captures your personality, and why?
A smart, well-oiled, comfortable office chair.
When's the last time you changed your mind about something? I
think I mean a radical shift of personal values -- regarding art ("Suddenly,
I'm not crazy about Billie Holiday, in fact, I'm not even sure I'm
spelling her name right"), regarding anything ("Actually, you can
go home again").
I used to think that achievement was more important than happiness.
It's not.
What book or books do you
press upon friends?
Neuromancer and The Forever War.
What can we, as a group,
do to increase the popularity of multi-stage bicycle racing as a spectator
sport in America?
Join forces with radical right-wing militia groups.
I once had a creative writing teacher tell me that he didn't understand
why authors used science fiction or magical realism to tell a story
or impart a theme. Why do you think we do, when good old realism might
do the trick?
Of
course it's just a matter of taste, but realism seems awfully limiting.
Fiction should celebrate the act of imagining. It seems unhealthy
to restrain one's imagination to what one can see looking out the
window. If an author wants to be the eight-six thousandth person to
vividly imagine and evoke in words the tragedy of a failing marriage,
that's fine by me. But I want equal respect accorded to the author
who sets the failing marriage on a space station that's getting sucked
into a wormhole that is actually a pock mark on the face of a barbarian
who's swinging a broadsword at an angst-ridden vampire aristocrat
who leads an elite platoon of space marines whose last battle... well.
Let's just forget I said that.
What is the meaning of life?
Don't touch the green stuff! It's toxic.
O
Next
-- Alex Irvine