Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Imagining the future with Eliot Peper

I spent a wonderful hour last week in conversation with Oakland-based novelist Eliot Peper. Eliot's latest novel Veil tells a story about the world burdened with the consequences of human-caused climate change. In it, Eliot examines the possibilities of geoengineering, and imperfect humans who make sacrifices to stir the earthsystem towards healing.

This discussion came as a result of my own venturing into science fiction over the course of the pandemic. Diving into alternate worlds gave me comfort as I grappled with uncertainty of the lockdown. Eliot was kind enough to hear me out and generously offer his time to discuss the role of imagination and story-telling in hard times.

The recording of our discussion is here. I extracted some of the ideas Eliot shared that lingered with me the morning after the event, read on.

On predicting the future: Although we imagine the future, we often believe that the present will keep extending—the world that we're born into will always be the way it is. [Most] predictions of what the future will be like are extrapolations of how things are.

On our ability to rebuild the world: We made up all of the things that surround us: we invented the government, debt, city councils, the system that we call civilization. Although the reality is more fragile than we thought, this also means that we can re-invent it.

On exercising imagination and Eliot's writing process: I try to tell a deeper story that accesses a deeper truth of what it means to live your life at the time of great change. We are the stories we tell ourselves and other people, either on the individual level, or the cultural level.
We all daydream, all the time. Being a novelist is like being a professional daydreamer. Normally, you would daydream about one thing for half a second and go on to something else. The next time you catch yourself daydreaming, keep the one thing going. Rather than cycling to the next one, think what would it smell like, what would be some of the weird details, what are the consequences, what would be surprising? Try thinking about it for two minutes, and you'll find that, suddenly, it'll branch out and you'll go places you never imagined.

Another piece of advice that was helpful to me in creating a theory of imagination, of how I think about my own work, is that I simply notice things. I follow my curiosity. If I'm interested in something, I'll go down the Wikipedia rabbit hole, I will read books, and if I have a follow-up question, I might send a follow-up email to the author and ask. One of the things that I came out of college thinking is that I need to read serious books. And that's changed completely. I now only follow my curiosity. If you follow your curiosity you get to a place at which you're most interested. I try to write only what interests me. If I do that successfully, that starts to come off the page for people.

[My writing] is similar to meditation. I strive to be there for the material, to exist for the characters. That is the hard work of writing a novel. My research process is very easy, because I'm reading things that I find interesting. I try to take threads and weave them together. When I was writing Veil, the effort was not of planning a multi-year project. It was rather learning what was interesting, paying attention to my relationships and friendships, and how I was growing - and then pulling all those things together into a narrative. Once you got them, you want to weave them together as tightly as possible.


On the tools for writing: I wrote Veil using Scrivener, which is intended for long-form pieces of work. For the current thing I'm working on I'm using Ulysses, which is helpful because it syncs well between my phone and computer. There's no organization, it's just things that I think about and dream of. I want to keep it that way. I even use things like Twitter, my blog or my newsletter, for note-taking. I change the [writing] process with every book. It makes me think in new ways, challenges me.

On positive science fiction: There have been calls in the past few years for more positive science fiction—that misses the point. What defines our experience is not the tropes of the world. What makes the world better is people overcoming adversity, it's people struggling and showing an enormous amount of creativity and dedication and persistence to overcome all of the challenges that life throws at us. I wrote Veil to be a very hopeful book. But I did that not by making the future pretty. I did it by making the future sort of how I experience the present, with beauty and pain woven through the whole thing, with an underlying knowledge that these characters are trying to do their best.

On leadership that inspires him: I am amazed by the people and groups who are stepping up to the plate [during the pandemic]. When you have a moment of disruption of systems, there's an opportunity to build new rules. I am inspired by those people who in their own lives are looking at all of these problems and finding opportunities to make things better.

Recommended readings during the pandemic: Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning: there couldn't be a better time to read this if you're trying to find a sense of strength in the dark times. Second, Alix E. Harrow's The Ten Thousand Doors of January.

On imagination... Because of your imagination, you have control over how you react to events that are beyond of your control. By taking us on journeys through radically diverse futures, science fiction can help to free our thinking from the subtle bonds of the status quo.

Saturday, March 28, 2020

Small worlds: my zines

Austin Kleon uncovered the world of zines for me a couple of weeks ago—and the timing couldn't be better.

Self-isolation further fostered my need to make things with my own two hands.

I'm lucky to have the flexibility to work from home, and stay safely secluded with my family, but isolation and screens wear on you.

Zines give me an opportunity to extend my imagination beyond the four walls. While my hands are busy cutting, gluing, and arranging bits of magazine scraps, my mind wanders far away from the coronavirus and the change it forced onto all of us.

For my first zine, I took a very lackluster approach. I didn't plan its flow or content. I opened an old edition of the Economist and picked visuals that struck me, and stuck with me. I first built the last page, then the first, and then had to find the way to connect them through the middle.

What came out of the process, was a gloomy story of a man who is different, and disliked for it.


There was more of an intention behind my second zine. I had a cut-out of a fish, or a screaming girl, and some building roofs. I put those together. Then I went looking for a poem to inspire the rest. I went for Yoko Ono's book Grapefruit, because she'd surely have something strange enough to follow the story of a girl flying on a fish. And she does indeed.

A floating city 
The second level world 
Upstairs on the clouds 
Mountains and rain roaring underneath 
Like venice, we have to commute by 
boats through air currents to visit 
eachothers floating houses. 
Cloud gardens to watch all day

Sunday, March 8, 2020

The swans


I captured a photo of this swan couple during a walk today. They are calmness, they are grace, they are commitment. Black and white, this sight makes me think of my dear old neighbor who lost her husband of sixty years this week, and of her pain.

The words of W. B. Yeats fill the gray skies above the swans:
Unwearied still, lover by lover,
They paddle in the cold
Companionable streams or climb the air;
Their hearts have not grown old;
Passion or conquest, wander where they will,
Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,
Mysterious, beautiful;
Among what rushes will they build,
By what lake's edge or pool
Delight men's eyes when I awake some day
To find they have flown away?

Saturday, March 7, 2020

My favorite photograph of Susan Sontag

I love this photograph of Susan Sontag with her son, David.


Their relaxed demeanor, her loving gaze, they know each other well as friends and family.

Sigrid Nunez, a woman whom David dated and who lived with them for two years wrote about Susan and David's relationship:

[S]he always insisted that she and David were different from ordinary mothers and sons. She liked to think of herself as David’s “goofy older sister.” It wasn’t neediness that made her want to keep David with her, she’d tell people, but her enormous love for him.

Susan Sontag loved lists. This one about raising a child, she put out in 1959, when David was seven years old. 
  1. Be consistent.
  2. Don't speak about him to others (e.g., tell funny things) in his presence. (Don't make him self-conscious.)
  3. Don't praise him for something I wouldn't always accept as good.
  4. Don't reprimand him harshly for something he's been allowed to do.
  5. Daily routine: eating, homework, bath, teeth, room, story, bed.
  6. Don't allow him to monopolize me when I am with other people.
  7. Always speak well of his pop. (No faces, sighs, impatience, etc.)
  8. Do not discourage childish fantasies.
  9. Make him aware that there is a grown-up world that's none of his business.
  10. Don't assume that what I don't like to do (bath, hairwash) he won't like either.

Monday, February 24, 2020

When humans suffer, nature rejoices

Living in the Anthropocene as is means that the growth of human well-being is burdened with high cost to the natural environment.

In the same manner, human suffering gives nature an opportunity for recovery.

The coronavirus outbreak reminds us of this balancing act.

Residents of Beijing report hearing the birds better:
With a substantial decrease in the volume of international and national flights in China in the past month, as well as lower electricity demands, country's CO2 emissions have fallen by a quarter. Experts, however, caution that this is likely to be only a drop in annual emissions, and that the impact would come only with the long-term fall in demand.


Wednesday, February 19, 2020

How AI "understands" history

I use Unsplash on a weekly basis. It's one of the most popular stock photography repositories, and I appreciate the large selection, as well as vibrant and modern style of the photographs I find there.

Unsplash uses AI to tag and describe images. I encountered a number of interesting AI-sourced interpretations of well-known historical photographs. They made me chuckle.

In reality: Richard Nixon visiting quarantined Apolo 11 astronauts.

In reality: Graffiti painting on the Berlin wall titled "My God, Help Me Survive This Deadly Love", portrays the socialist fraternal kiss between Leonid Brezhnev and Erich Honecker.

In reality: Dwight D. Eisenhower, displaying Atoms for Peace post stamps, around 1955.

In reality: Ronald Reagan, then Governor of California, visits Los Alamos in 1967.  


Friday, February 14, 2020

Real love

The nature can teach us the virtues of real love, which begins with humility and patience.

It certainly has taught me. Wandering through the woods, experiencing vast spaces, free of human interference and mess. The most magnificent, or the most cruel (!), of its displays instils a sense of modesty: makes me feel insignificant in the abyss of the history of life and all its forms. 

Just look at us—merely a star


My favourite verse in the Bible, Corinthians 13:4, talks about love; it was always one of the rare parts of the Bible that made sense to me. It takes me to a place so far from busy streets, ugly politics, and nonsensical conflicts. It takes me to a pathless forest, the loudest creek, the chirpiest bird nests, and a roaring lion field. Replace love with nature and you get the essence of being. 

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no account of wrongs. Love takes no pleasure in evil, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be restrained; where there is knowledge, it will be dismissed. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial passes away.