By Lynne Jamneck
Laird Barron is the author of several books, including The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All. His work has also appeared in many magazines and anthologies. An expatriate Alaskan, Barron currently resides in Upstate New York.
You are currently putting together the inaugural volume of the Year’s Best Weird Fiction for Undertow Publications. Have you noticed any particular themes in the stories that you have read for the collection so far?
Lynne, thank you for the interview. It’s too early to assess the incoming wave except to say that it’s shaping up to be a hell of a year for weird fiction. Some of the best authors in the field have, or will have, stories released in 2013. I expect an embarrassment of riches. Between the surfeit of literary talent and working with one of the industry’s true professionals, Michael Kelly of Undertow Publications, I believe there’s a chance to forge something very special in this inaugural Year’s Best Weird Fiction.
The anthology is currently being funded via Indiegogo; what do you think are the advantages for both authors and editors in putting together short stories in this way?
Only time will tell, but the future looks bright for Kickstarter and Indiegogo. There have been a number of successful campaigns already. It’s a tool to gauge interest in a project and subsidize it through what amounts to a preorder system. The incentives can be nice—special editions, Tuckerizations by renowned authors, a whole slew of prizes based on opt-in levels.
What do you perceive to be the major differences between what is generally considered the first exponents of the weird tale (Lovecraft, Aickman, Ashton-Smith) and more recent writers like China Mieville, Jeff Vandermeer and K.J. Bishop, who are generally referred to as authors of the New Weird.
Lovecraft and company certainly had a hand in popularizing weird fiction. Nonetheless, the weird tradition precedes those worthies. I suspect one could trace this literary root to stone tools and pictograms, but I’m content to point out Dunsany, Bierce, Shelley, and Poe as practitioners with seniority over the pulp gods we tend to venerate.
The so-called New Weird? Didn’t Wolfe invent that with the Book of the New Sun? Or was it Leiber with his Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser saga? Mieville and M. John Harrison are fine authors, but I liked the New Weird better when Jack Vance was wrecking the joint with The Dying Earth.
As go the times we live in, so goes genre. Exceptions abound, but recent weird and horror trends toward themes of estrangement and emasculation. Thomas Ligotti epitomizes the former, while any number of British and North American authors seem preoccupied with the latter. It feels like a dramatic shift from the pulps of yore. Even Lovecraft’s hapless academics possessed a certain spirit of resistance in the face of doom. Contemporary protagonists commonly shrug off the ineffable with a certain jaded ennui, or succumb to malign forces with scarcely a whimper. There’s too often a sense that contemporary protagonists are made of cardboard rather than flesh and blood. I’m on the hunt for stories that feature characters as least as interesting as the strangeness they encounter. I know it’s out there. I only need to look to the work of Kaaron Warren, Livia Llewellyn, and Stephen Graham Jones for proof of what can be done.
Your upcoming collection, The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All (2013, Night Shade Books) will be released in August. Does it differ in any significant way from your previous collections Occultation (2010) and The Imago Sequence & Other Stories (2007)?
I’m always trying to move forward. The trick is to move forward while bringing along as much of my previous audience as is possible. The Beautiful Thing That Awaits Us All combines certain elements from my earlier collections and refines them. Perhaps the most significant aspect of the book is that it marks the end of a cosmic horror trilogy. It also contains a story or two that signal a shift in direction. The next arc will primarily involve Alaska and the Yukon and it will focus upon other horror traditions.
You were born and raised in Alaska and now live in Upstate New York. With American horror so deeply rooted within Nature, how do you think these environments have shaped you as a writer?
Alaska was a scarring experience and one that influenced me to become a horror writer. The immense vistas, the extremes of light and dark, the bitter cold, and the isolation all left their marks. The fifteen or so years I spent in Washington State also marked me, but in a gentler fashion. I’ve set a great number of tales in the wilds of the Olympics and I remain fond of the area even in my prolonged absence. I’ve been in the Hudson Valley for a couple of years, but I feel an affinity for the woods and the mountains that dominate this region. The terrain reminds me of a softer, deciduous variation of the Olympic Peninsula. The old towns with their rich history is something that will seep into my system over time. In a few years I’ll likely set a lot of stories here.
What’s the most absurd thing you have ever heard about yourself?
I’ve been told I resemble Robin Williams.
Can you tell us what you are currently working on, writing-wise?
I have an Alaska-themed collection in its final stages. However, my main project is a crime novel set in the Hudson Valley. I’m hoping to hand it in to my agent this fall.
If you could invite three people, living or dead, around for dinner, who would it be? What would you ask them?
Cormac McCarthy; James Dickey; my doppelganger. I’d ask McCarthy if Gein was his inspiration for Child of God, as I’ve suspected. I don’t have any questions for Dickey, not after To the White Sea. I just want to have a drink with the man who understands the madness of the wild so well. For years, a doppelganger has dogged me. I’ve never seen him, but numerous others have reported his existence. I’d ask him to lay off and follow Robin Williams around for a while.
Is it weirder to be a writer or not being a writer?
Not, I’d say. Writing has been a major facet of my identity since I was a boy. Over the years, I’ve pursued many avocations—sled dogs, martial arts, and education being the most serious. These days, most of my associates and friends are connected to the publishing industry. I also have amazing readers who’ve supported my endeavors. The experiences of this past decade have made irrevocable changes in me. I can’t imagine doing anything else.
Check out the Indiegogo campaign for Year’s Best Weird Fiction here.
Lynne Jamneck is a South African who lives in New Zealand. She holds an MA in English Literature from the University of Auckland, and has been short listed for the Sir Julius Vogel and Lambda Awards. Lynne has published short fiction in various markets, including Jabberwocky Magazine, H.P. Lovecraft’s Magazine of Horror, Fantastique Unfettered, and Tales for Canterbury. She edited the SF anthology, Periphery, and is writing her first speculative novel.