Friday, 28 April 2017

Recommend: Kick-ass women from history

For this week's "Recommend" post we’re asking you to tell us your favorite kick-ass women from history. Understand that brief however you like (there’s a range of interpretations below), and tell us about these figures—why they’re “kick-ass,” why they mean something to you, a story from their lives… inspire us. To get us going, we asked a few authors, editors and other friends of TFF for their suggestions:

Maria Grech Ganado (profile; interview)

A German abbess of a Benedictine monastery, medieval mystic, philosopher, writer, poet, hagiographer, scientific natural historian. And, before the term was invented, a feminist. Hildegard von Bingen (1098-1179) established for herself a female identity never recorded before in her exclusively patriarchal historical context—the Church.

Preaching was forbidden women, but Pope Eugene III requested she travel widely to preach the visionary theology she wrote 3 volumes of, was consulted by both religious and social personages, invented a new language, composed the first musical morality play, Ordo Virtutum. Her liturgical chants still enchant many, including me, and her natural medicine influenced that of the New Movement.

Woman may be made from man, but no man can be made without a woman’—Hildegard’s writing exalts woman and God’s creation of beauty, recommends beer to give her nuns rosy cheeks. She refers openly to the joys of sex, scorning concepts of woman’s ‘uncleanness’. She challenged authority, obviously male, and got her way. I suspect her insistence that she was an unlearned member of the weaker sex was tactical rather than humble, crucial at the time to ensure her power. A woman after my own heart.

Regina de Búrca (twitter; TFF)

Sometimes when life, neoliberalism and/or bigotry brings me down, I like to remind myself of my kick-ass female ancestors to help me feel stronger. As with all family trees, some ancestors are more colourful than others, and I have to say I'm pretty proud to have the blood of Granuaile, the Pirate Queen of Connacht, Ireland, running through my veins. Born around 1530, legend has it that as a child she cut off all her hair to disguise herself as a boy so she could join her father on a trading mission. He had refused to take her as at that time it was considered bad luck to have women on board ships. This is the source of her name Gráinne Mhaol (or bald Gráinne), anglicised as Granuaile.

Salic Law forbade women to become leaders, however this did not deter Granuaile from becoming chieftain of the O’Malley clan, leading an army of 200 men and being captain of a fleet of ships. Famous for leading an army against the English, by 1593, she had a catalogue of treasonous activities levelled against her by the English Court. This didn’t stop her from travelling to Greenwich Palace to negotiate successfully with Queen Elizabeth I for the release of her two sons and half-brother.

For me, Granuaile personifies tearing down limitations imposed by gender and societal expectations, and her memory inspires me never to take no for an answer.

Djibril al-Ayad (TFF)

My candidate for kick-ass woman from history is, Malahayati (sometimes also known in Indonesian as Keumalahayati), the late sixteenth-century Sumatran admiral and stateswoman under the Sultan of Aceh. After graduating from Islamic and then military schools, and a successful career as a naval commander leading to her appointment as first admiral of the growing Aceh navy, the historical record recounts several major naval victories under her command, including over the Dutch colonial and piratical expeditions in 1599 and 1601, but it is telling that as well as a formidable commander, she was trusted with international diplomacy and financial negotiation as well, including a trade agreement with Elizabeth I of England (who joined the Dutch in choosing to treaty rather than attempt war against the well-defended Aceh Sultanate). Legend also has it that Malahayati, herself the widow of a naval commander, in the 1580s had recruited a force of between 1,000 and 2,000 war widows to serve in her navy, driven by vengeance against the Portuguese conquerors of Malacca, on the reasoning that these widows would be a highly motivated military force. So maybe I cheated, there are actually 2,000 kick-ass women from history in my story!

Omi Wilde (story; story)

Hide Hyodo photograph, [ca. 1935].
City of Richmond Archives and
Richmond Retired Teachers Association,
photograph # 2014 6 5.
One of my favourite kickass women from history, Hide Hyodo Shimizu, was born in Vancouver—the same town I was!—in 1908, just one year after white-Canadians targeted Japanese-Canadians in violent race riots, and throughout her lifetime she battled oppression and prejudice. At eighteen she became the first Japanese-Canadian to hold a teacher’s certificate. In her twenties she was part of a Japanese-Canadian delegation that petitioned the Canadian government for voting rights, which they were denied. Three years later, the start of World War II increased government-sanctioned oppression to even more shameful levels, including forcing Japanese-Canadians to register with the police and the Canadian government’s theft of Japanese-Canadian citizens’ homes and belongings. After the majority of Japanese-Canadians were forcibly removed from their homes along the BC coast, Hide continued to work as a public school teacher but dedicated her weekends and evenings to providing an education to the children imprisoned in the internment camp in Hastings Park, Vancouver—all while unpaid, preparing for her own imprisonment, and working around a restrictive curfew. Later, when she and the majority of Japanese-Canadians had been further removed to internment camps in Interior BC, she traveled from camp to camp planning primary school curriculum and training highschool students to teach the younger children. After the war, still prohibited from returning home to coastal BC, Hide settled in Ontario and continued to be a dynamic activist and educator. In the 1980’s and 90’s she was honoured in many ways, including being awarded the Order of Canada, but I think she’d be most pleased by the multiple scholarships named for her. To explore and learn more about Hide and Nikkei history, the website nikkeistories.com is an awesome resource.

Your turn! Please give us your recommendations of kick-ass women from history in the comments.

Tuesday, 25 April 2017

Lori Selke's Earworm of the Month

Our friend and erstwhile guest editor Lori Selke has a new column/newsletter, the “Earworm of the Month Club,” based on a similar column Lori used to write for SF Weekly, but now written with complete editorial freedom and more space to rant. You can subscribe to the Earworm of the Month Club by going to Tinyletter and entering your email. It'll be sent to you once a month (at most), and your address won't be used for any other purpose.


If you’d like to support Lori or thank her for these posts, you can tip her the price of a cup of coffee (or anything else) at ko-fi.com/lselke.

Monday, 17 April 2017

Recommend: Optimistic SF

This time, we're asking for recommendations of optimistic science fiction. Please leave your suggestions in the comments below. First, a few ideas from editors, authors, reviewers and other friends:

Tracie Welser (author page)

A common enough complaint about science fiction is that much of recent writing in the genre is dystopian or deeply pessimistic. Gone are the golden age stories about exploration and hope, to which I say "good riddance," as much of the sense of wonder and speculation of those years drew heavily on imperialist themes and angles of approach to "others." It seems inevitable that trends such as social suppression of dissent, growing divide between economic classes, environmental degradation and rapidly changes in technology produce distinctly dark responses from science fiction writers. Lauren Buekes' Moxieland comes to mind. In the early aughts, this complaint seemed louder than usual (just search for "positive science fiction" to take a peek at posts from Time and others decrying the grimness of SFF books and film). There were even suggestions that negative stories stifle scientific innovation, rather than inspire.

I, for one, think dystopian narratives while not inherently hopeful are backdrops for hope, where solidarity and struggle are elevated. The popularity of dystopia themes in young adult fiction (ie, Hunger Games) is not so surprising, as the sub-genre is inclined to take risks and whack fascism firmly on the nose, a sensibility enjoyed by young readers and adults alike. Similarly, seemingly hopeless stories, of shattered civilization and economic despair (Oryx and Crake, The Wind-up Girl) offers some kernels of resistance and revolution. Attempts at overtly positive science fiction in the recent past are harder to come by.

Two that come to mind are METAtropolis edited by John Scalzi. A series of shared world stories by different authors, the collection posits some realistic (read: gritty) futurism but with hopeful notes about urban community. The second is the anthology Hieroglyph, which includes the notable, playful story by Charlie Jane Anders titled "The Day it All Ended." The history of the Hieroglyph Project itself is fairly interesting, a deliberate effort to create and publish more positive visions of science fictional future.

Maureen Kincaid Speller (Paper Knife)

The world is not an optimistic place right now; it’s been a long time since science fiction felt optimistic, to the point where the issues explored over the last twenty or thirty years in fiction have become commonplace in daily life. In common with many, I fear for the future and often find it hard to read sf these days because the brain can only stand so much dystopia. It was a genuine pleasure, then, to read Lavie Tidhar’s Central Station recently and to feel that perhaps not all has been lost. Tidhar’s fiction doesn’t offer much in the way of solutions but there is the promise nonetheless that life will continue, and not necessarily a bad life either. The people (and I use this term in the broadest sense) who gather around the Central Station to sell food, tend bar, collect books, solve problems, look out for one another, fall in love, practise their religions, aren’t so far removed from the people I know. It is both encouraging and comforting to know that at least one writer believes in the persistence of ordinary daily life, no matter what.

Don Riggs (faculty page; alumnus page)

When I was in the 8th grade, I first learned about the Big Bang theory—the actual theory, not the television sitcom. The ultimate implication of the universe starting off with a bang and an unceasing expansion is entropy, which is the tapering off of the energy of the universe until the Heat Death of the Universe happens. I was thoroughly depressed by this, and so, when our next theory was presented, the Oscillating Universe, where the universe expands as far as it goes until it then is sucked back into another primordial point of all matter, which will again explode in another Big Bang, I decided that was the theory I wished to embrace. “Utriusque Cosmi,” a short story by Robert Charles Wilson (in Neil Clarke’s Galactic Empires, 2017), combines the story of a sixteen-year- old girl living in a trailer with her meth-addict mother and her abusive boyfriend, with that of that girl’s future self, “raptured up” to the Fleet of the intelligences of creatures saved from dying worlds, itself pursued by the Invisible Enemy, which ultimately turns out to be a group of Elder Beings that in turn “rapture up” the Fleet and thus survive the next collapse of the universe.

Stephanie Saulter (author page)

It’s a shame that science fiction isn’t a more generally optimistic genre. Too often we extrapolate possible futures so dire and hopeless the message seems to be that humanity is aboard a rocketship to all-but-inescapable doom, or at best unalleviated misery. I can’t think of too many writers who buck this grim trend, but among the few is the late and greatly lamented Iain M. Banks, whose Culture novels are the ultimate vision of a far-future, galaxy-spanning, inclusive and egalitarian polity in which humans are only one of many species and virtually omniscient AIs, instead of being the harbingers of our destruction, are committed and wryly indulgent protectors of organic life. The Culture’s liberal ethos combined with flexibility and at times ruthless pragmatism allows it to withstand assaults from without and respond to concerns from within. I’d suggest The Player of Games for a first visit.

Another exception is the grande dame of speculative fiction, Ursula Le Guin. Her SF looks at harmful gender and social constructs, the iniquities of politics and commerce, and conflicts between ideology and idealism with an eye less to endless iterations of the problem than envisioning possible solutions. The Dispossessed is an extraordinary book.

What are some other positive examples of science fiction? Please share recommendations in the comments.

Sunday, 2 April 2017

New Issue: 2017.40

“One human life is deeper than the ocean. Strange fishes and sea-monsters and mighty plants live in the rock-bed of our spirits.”

—Ben Okri

Issue 2017.40

 [ Issue 2017.40; Cover art © 2017 Carmen Moran ] Flash fiction
Short stories
Poetry
Full issue and editorial

Download e-book version: EPUB | Mobi

Thursday, 30 March 2017

The Present and Future Struggle for Teen Girls’ Self-Esteem

On the planet Soranen, the Sor people are a genetic mixture of the Ellarisor and Human species, both now presumed extinct. Teen twins Lerris and Graika, defying Soranen’s laws, dare to fly a mini-jet to the edge of the atmosphere. There they uncover a dangerous mystery that inspires them to seek the origins of their Human blood.
Guest post by Anne E. Johnson

The edict “write what you know” might not seem applicable to science fiction, particularly that which takes place in the far future and in another, unknown world. But I would argue this is one of the very purposes of science fiction. A purely imaginary setting somehow intensifies the realities we face in the mundane quotidian. I tried to demonstrate this in my YA novel, Space Surfers. One of its main characters represents my late sister, Allegra, and is meant to show what she might have become if she had lived.

The twin teen characters Gaika and Lerris have the blood of two species: Human and Ellarisor, neither of which are believed to exist anymore. One of the primary arcs of Space Surfers tracks how the two protagonists learn to relate to their heritage as they sort it out. Being part Human, they both go through some recognizable problems of adolescence. With Lerris, it’s the fear that his father will be disappointed in him, and the realization that he is, in fact, rather disappointed in his father. For Graika, the problem is more general, and oh, so common among girls: she doesn’t believe that she’s worth anything or that her natural gifts are something to be proud of.

That was Allegra, in a nutshell. She was smart, funny, musically talented, and unwilling to make those traits her focus once she felt the crush of teen peer pressure. She dated boys (and then men) who didn’t respect her, married one of them, and died of cancer at the age of 29. And the last months of her life, in her final brief bout of decent health, she told me a secret: she had a dream of getting divorced and opening her own greenhouse. But that dream never came close to being a reality.

So, when I wrote Graika’s character many years later, I gave her the chance Allegra never had. Space Surfers is in part about figuring out who you are, owning it, and being proud of it. There’s a specific parallel I was careful to draw between Graika and Allegra: each had adults in her life who supported her. It’s a different problem than that faced by girls with no backing at home. Just as my parents were both professional people who took it as given that their kids had brains and potential, so it is for Graika and Lerris. Their dad designs aircraft and their mom is a chemist. The father wants his son to be a pilot, but he also expects his daughter to become some sort of professional. Their mother’s fault is putting too much pressure on Graika to excel in the sciences. The result, similar to what happened to Allegra, is that Graika rebels by burying her intellect and trying to seem “normal.”

Anne E. Johnson
I won’t give too many spoilers, but I will say that Graika eventually finds her way. She doesn’t get all the answers, of course, because none of us has those, but at least by the end of the novel she’s uncovered a sense of self-worth and a way to move forward. She figures out what her best contributions to the world might be, regardless of what the well-meaning authorities in her life advise or expect. What goes along with that change is a willingness to let herself be loved, both by her family and romantically by someone whom she would never have considered before.

Although Space Surfers takes place hundreds of years in the future in a solar system I invented, I hope it resonates with young humans of our time and our planet, especially girls and women. Graika’s lack of love for herself and her dreams may well be a universal issue—no matter where you are in the universe. I just hope Allegra’s spirit is floating close enough to read over my shoulder.


You can purchase Space Surfers directly from the publisher or on Amazon.

Learn more about Anne E. Johnson by visiting her website or following her on Facebook.

Thursday, 23 March 2017

Miguel Santos Ermal: Prologue (part II)

Here is part II of Miguel Santos’s graphic introduction to his webcomic, Ermal. (You can find the first part at last week's post.)



I am a freelance artist for pen and paper games, magazines and indie comics. I live in a periferal province of the pre apocalyptic European Union and I'm most interested in History/Politics, speculative fiction, outdoor activities and simple conversations while drinking a good stout or porter beer.

Last week we saw what happened when the cold war got hot. Now the story begins with the arrival of a rider in a small town recovering from the end of civilization.


(click for larger image)

Tuesday, 21 March 2017

Recommend: mythological heroines

We're going to be running a new series of posts over the next few months, in which we ask readers to recommended their best examples of a particular literary genre, type of person, or other cool topic. To kick off the idea, we would like you to tell us your favorite mythological heroines—and why, what makes them amazing, heroic, feminist, progressive, compelling, whatever. Please leave a comment with your examples, justifications or pure gushings of love. To get you started, we’ve asked a few editors, authors and other friends of TFF to give their recommendations.

Margrét Helgadóttir (web page; FB)

Among the most famous and widespread of Inuit myths is the legend of the goddess known as Sedna, Nuliayuk or Taluliyuk, the Mother of the Sea. More than one version of the Sedna creation myth exists but each describes how her father, for different reasons, takes her to sea in his kayak, chops off her fingers, and then hands, when she attempted to return to the boat. She sinks to the bottom of the Arctic Ocean and her body parts become the animals of the sea and she becomes the Mother of the Deep, the woman who controls all sea beasts and is half-woman and half-fish.

I find the legend about Sedna very fascinating. Despite her cruel death she gains a major role in the Inuit everyday life. The Arctic Ocean is a major food source and Sedna was worshiped by hunters who depended on her goodwill. She was considered a vengeful goddess, and hunters must placate and pray to her to release the sea animals from the ocean depths for their hunt. Other legends however tell about the good woman who lives under the sea who will keep children away from the dangerous places when they play on the shore. Mythology also says that when an Inuit breaks a taboo in society, Sedna’s hair gets filthy and entangles the animals, preventing the hunters from catching any food. The shaman must clean her hair and talk with her to find out which taboos were broken and communicate these lessons back to society.

Rachel Linn (author page)

The first time I remember hearing about Yuki-onna was in Kwaidan, a film by director Masaki Kobayashi that consists of a series of supernatural stories. Yuki-onna’s nature is difficult to pin down, but she is along the lines of a spirit or ghost and she often appears during snowfall. There are varied stories of Yuki-onna, though most of them begin with a mortal man falling in love with her and end with her disappearing like melting snow.

Yuki-onna is usually portrayed as a perilous influence, but I find the idea of her comfortingly heroic because of my own experiences with snow. I am particularly frightened of hypothermia because I became cold enough to hallucinate the first time I went for a hike in the dead of winter. I often feel that I am only a capable mountaineer with the help of modern insulation technology—water/windproof jackets, chemical warmers, etc.—and have a hard time valuing what I have done because of this. While on cold weather mountaineering or backpacking trips, as I fight with the cold, the image of Yuki-onna stepping out of a snowy forest in below-freezing temperatures (naked or dressed in a delicate kimono), is eerily reassuring. (The book Yūrei: The Japanese Ghost is a great account of ghosts and spirits in Japanese culture, if you want to learn more.)

Jessica Campbell (web page)

I first got excited about Psyche while I was working on my undergraduate thesis on fairy tales and discovered how similar “Cupid and Psyche” was to my favorite tale, “Beauty and the Beast.” Psyche’s story is complicated by the fact that for a long time she interacts with Cupid only in the dark and therefore does not know what he looks like; her jealous sisters feed her suspicion that he hides his appearance because he is some hideous beast. But it turns out that her mysterious lover is actually better than a human—he is a god, and an extremely attractive one at that. Now, as a queer person, I love the statement on nonnormative relationships that we can read into this development: a lover of an unexpected kind may turn out to be exactly the one you want. Oh, and did I mention that Psyche goes on a quest to recover her lover from the machinations of his controlling mother, Venus, at the end? For an intriguing fusion of this story with “Beauty and the Beast,” check out Tanith Lee’s story “Beauty” from the delightfully titled 1983 collection Red as Blood: Tales from the Sisters Grimmer.

Valeria Vitale (TFF)

I encountered Isis, Egyptian goddess of magic and the Underworld, when I was working on the 3D reconstruction of a temple dedicated to her. The story that won my heart is a peculiar one. During a (divine) family dinner, Set, a jealous rival of Isis and her brother-spouse Osiris, challenges all the guests to fit into a beautiful wooden box. If you think that it doesn’t sound like a good idea to step into something that your arch-enemy has built and that looks very much like a coffin, you are not being too suspicious. Once Osiris is inside the box, Set nails it quickly and dumps it in the river.

When Isis finds out what has happened, she immediately goes looking for the body of her partner, to properly bury him. She travels Egypt from corner to corner. I imagine her on a small boat, always followed by one or two silent crocodiles. And finally she finds the box floating! But Set, furious that his plan has been spoiled, chops the body into 14 parts and scatters them all around Egypt. Again, Isis starts her search. Patiently and stubbornly, she collects all the pieces of Osiris’ body to bring him back to life with magic. She finds all but one: his phallus. There are a couple versions of what happened next. One says that another god gave her a golden phallus for Osiris. In my favorite, though, she makes one herself, from mud, and then “blows life into it” (yep!). I love Isis’ determination, her proactive optimism, her faith in her own strength and resources, her unshaken loyalty. I like that it’s her rescuing the male character. Her story may also hint at the fact that a couple doesn’t need a biological phallus to have good sex :-)

Dolly Garland (web page; twitter)

A quintessential Hindu woman, idolized for her inner fire—born of the literal fire—Draupadi is often cited as the catalyst for the great war of Mahabharata. Though she plays such a pivotal role in the epic from which the Hindu scripture Bhagavad Gita is derived, Draupadi is rarely mentioned as a heroine or a central character, let alone a superhero. If she is, it is as the cause of the war, or as an example of a “typical” mischief-making female.

Though far from flawless, she was truly the woman behind the men. I believe the reason she was a designated catalyst of the Mahabharata (the Great War) in the long game played by Lord Krishna to rejuvenate the human race was because while her husbands—the mighty Pandavas—were brave and true of heart, they hid behind duty and tradition. Draupadi forced them to acknowledge that if they stand for truth and justice going to war was the right thing to do. She was the catalyst because she possessed the strength to do what hundreds of men could not—to raise her voice against injustice rather than hide behind duty and tradition.

In the Indian society which still, in 2017, often values traditions above everything else, Draupadi, a character that is so embedded in mythology and thousands of years old, is a true superhero.



Now tell us about your favorite mythological heroines in the comments!

Thursday, 16 March 2017

Miguel Santos Ermal: Prologue (part I)

This week we welcome Miguel Santos [DeviantArt] [TFF profile], who has been illustrating for TFF since 2009, to tell us a bit about his webcomic, Ermal. Like most artists, Miguel speaks best in images, so his introduction to the comic, almost a prologue, is in graphic form, below. This is the first of two parts…



I am a freelance artist for pen and paper games, magazines and indie comics. I live in a periferal province of the pre apocalyptic European Union and I'm most interested in History/Politics, speculative fiction, outdoor activities and simple conversations while drinking a good stout or porter beer.

I started Ermal in the summer of 2015, planning to launch a 6 page chapter every month. I didn't fail, yet. The webcomic will run at least until 2018. It has an end. Maybe I'll revisit it later with side stories and prequels. The first 6 pages are an intro to what is happening in the region where Ermal is set. Basically the cold war got hot.

(click for larger image)

Saturday, 25 February 2017

Interview with Isabel Yap

Today, The Future Fire Assistant Editor Tracie Welser talks to Isabel Yap about her story in Fox Spirit Books' Asian Monsters.

Isabel Yap writes fiction and poetry, works in the tech industry, and drinks tea. Born and raised in Manila, she has also lived in California, Tokyo, and London. In 2013 she attended the Clarion Writers Workshop. Her work has appeared on Tor.com, Book Smugglers Publishing, Uncanny Magazine, Shimmer Magazine, and Year’s Best Weird Fiction Volume 2, among other venues. She is @visyap on Twitter and her website is isabelyap.com.

I was enthralled and horrified (in the best way) by your story "Grass Cradle, Glass Lullaby." Can you tell our readers more about the tiyanak, the story's monster, and how this story developed?
Filipino mythology is so rich that I had trouble deciding which creature I wanted to explore. I'd always wanted to write a story about a tiyanak and it's not one I'd seen that often, so I decided to give it a shot. Like many Filipino creatures, the tiyanak has many different depictions – in some versions it's a demon baby with sharp teeth; in others it's a baby that reveals its true nature as an old, goblin-like man. I asked friends about any possible encounters and also went poking around online.


Once I decided on using tiyanak, the story's other elements slowly came together. I wasn't planning on the fragmented narrative, but I tried a few times to tell the story directly and it didn't work. I realized the tone and the emotion of the protagonist would have to carry the story. I drew mainly on two themes: one is loneliness and isolation; the other is love without limits. I wrote the entire first draft by hand on a train because I was swiftly approaching the deadline.


On your website is the lovely line “I want the heartache, the broken glass, the stories that nibble at my guts”. This creepy tale of a would-be mother's desperate love is still gnawing at the insides of my mind! Did you scare yourself, writing this story?
I'm really easily scared – I don't watch horror movies usually because the images stay with me for way too long. But for some reason, I write quite a lot of horror, and my own stories actually don't scare me – probably because I feel somewhat in control with how things turn out. But if I'm writing really late at night, sometimes I get jumpy!


Also, that line actually came from an essay that was published on Interfictions – you can read it here! :D


The Asian Monsters anthology features several stories about creatures who appear to humans in innocent-seeming disguise. I've always struggled with stories about monstrous children (Pet Sematary, Children of the Corn and so on). Would you characterize this theme as a horror or the uncanny, and what about this appeals to you?
I think it's a mix of both horror and the uncanny. Children can be really frightening in and of themselves – there's something about that combination of innocence and being demanding and self-centered, almost to the point of ruthlessness, that makes horror stories about children have more 'creepiness' to them. It's like you don't want to believe it's possible that they can act that way – it goes against everything we know (or think we know). Personally, I always like themes that lend themselves well to ambiguity. I think it's more interesting that way. :)


What are you working on these days?
First up will be working on revisions for some stories I temporarily shelved due to 2016 craziness. One is a novella about a sorceress, a runaway princess, and a bird with a healing song set in a mythological precolonial Philippines. Another is a novelette about ex-child soldiers, trained in the use of weapons called Triggers, who are now bounty hunters...in space! Lastly I've been fascinated by the assignment of roles to boy and girl groups in kpop...I have nothing but that theme yet, but hopefully a story will come to me sometime. I have a lot of ideas, so I'm just working on getting some semblance of a writing practice back. I'm determined to make 2017 a good year for writing!

Friday, 17 February 2017

Interview with Yukimi Ogawa

Today, The Future Fire Assistant Editor Tracie Welser talks to Yukimi Ogawa about her story in Fox Spirit Books' Asian Monsters.

Yukimi Ogawa lives in a small town in Tokyo, Japan, where she writes in English but never speaks the language. She still wonders why it works that way. Her fiction can be found in such places as Fantasy and Science Fiction and Strange Horizons.


I enjoyed your gruesome and moving story, “Kokuri’s Place”. Can you tell our readers more about the monster, Kokuri Babaa?
Oh thank you! Kokuri Babaa is a monster of an old woman that strips corpses of the skin and eat the flesh, and weaves stuff with the dead’s hair. The part about Kokuri Babaa wearing the dead’s skin afterward is entirely my creation.


In the book in which I learned of her, the caption says she is “feared even more than Datsueba”, and Datsueba is an old-woman monster who strips the dead of their clothes if the dead don’t have enough money with them for crossing the river between this world and the world beyond. I see similarity here, and wonder if one of them had a strong influence on emergence/evolution of the other. Funny (and sad) thing, though, is that Datsueba somehow came to be admired by a certain number of people around the end of Edo era, while Kokuri Babaa is still only a lonely, unimportant monster to this day.


Otherwordly female creatures appear in several of your recent stories, such as the yōkai in “Town’s End”, and the skeleton woman in “Rib”. All three of these stories contain subtle sympathetic touches that made the horrific relatable and even beautiful. Can you tell us what appeals to you about the monstrous feminine?
I love flipping through books that catalogue yokai, and being a woman myself, I guess the female monsters tend to easily catch my eye. These yokai books – especially the ones by Sekien Toriyama, which offer only a few lines of caption at most for each drawing of monster – never go far enough into how they came to be, or why they came to be what they are. It’s just so much fun to try to visualise these hows and whys!


Also, I have to say, I’ve been called "yokai woman" by many people, not entirely in a bad way, but not entirely in a good way either (hehe). Perhaps by depicting the not-just-horrifying aspect of these female monsters, I’m trying to come to terms with this lonely, weird woman that is me.


The stories I mentioned, and especially “Kokuri’s Palace”, are about relationships between marginalized supernatural beings and humans as they come to understand and even aid one another. How did this story, told from alternating points of view, take shape in your writing process?
I remember wanting to tell a story where a human cannot help but call the monster “her”, instead of “it”; and the monster that calls the human “it”, because for that monster, “she”, “he” or any other pronouns just don’t make sense. And to this end, the only way I could think of was letting both of them take the first-person POV.


In my culture we see many stories where humans and monsters cooperate or become friends, and recent examples include GeGeGe no Kitaro by Shigeru Mizuki, and Yokai Watch series. In many of these stories the humans are “the good ones”, with the “good” monsters trying to help the human fight the bigger threat – more evil, stronger monsters. But sometimes I find myself asking, “Really?” And this is a theme I enjoy playing with.


What are you working on next?
More stories of yokai! And a longish story about a lot of patterns and colours. Writing about things I love gives me so much pleasure and peace.