Speculative Fiction in Slovenia

Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Literature in Slovenia
Guest post by Nena Škerlj; translated by Urša Vidic

Speculative fiction in Slovenia started with fantastic short stories, utopias and anti-utopias: Andrej Volkar (The School Student in the Moon, 1871), Josip Stritar (The Ninth Wonderland, 1878), Anton Mahnič (Shangri-La of Coromandel India, 1884, 1889), Janez Trdina (Revelation, depicting the world in the year 2175, 1888), Ivan Tavčar (4000, a view on the narrow-minded town of Ljubljana in the year 4000, 1891), Janez Mencinger (under the pseudonym Nejaz Nemcigren, he wrote about Europe in the 24th century as a totalitarian anti-utopia, —a Tale for Old People, 1893), Simon Šubic (criticizing capitalism at a journey into a classless society on Mars, Devastating Idol of the World, 1893), Josip Jaklič (Merkur from the collection of short stories Pantheon is a satirical utopia with a Slovenian conquering space expedition, 1893), Ivan Toporiš (Archaeological lecture in the year 5000—there are no more nations on Earth, everyone speaks the same language, volapük, 1892). Utopias and anti-utopias appear quite late in Slovenian literature, but when some of these became infused with elements of science fiction, they were exceptionally progressive and modern on a wider scale, something that cannot be said for the current scene in Slovenia.

In the first half of the 20th century, Damir Feigl was the most important Slovenian science fiction writer, describing utopias of natural and technical science, voyages extraordinaires, unusual inventions, antigravity, futurism in genetics, brain transplantation (novels Dog Hair!, On Mysterious Ground, Wondrous Eye, Columbus, Magician without a licence, Around the World/8, Supervitalin). He wrote also short sci-fi stories (Bacilus eloquentiae, Elektrokephale …) and fantasy (e.g. Pharaoh in a Tailcoat). A pessimistic view on the development of science and also future catastrophes were described by Etbin Kristan (Pertinčarjevo pomlajenje—a tale of a dream), Vladimir Levstik (under pseudonyms also (The Deed)) and Anton Novačan (Superhuman). Space travels were the subject of Radivoj Rehar (under pseudonyms as well; young adult fiction Journey with the Evening Star, a story happening in 2033, Oceanopolis—a novel about the mystery of human past, the utopian Revenge of Professor Kabaj, and Ramas in Jora—a novel about the last people on Earth, taking place in the distant future). Pavel Brežnik used the pseudonym P. Ripson to publish Secrets of Mars, while Metod Jenko and Viktor Hassl co-authored the narrative Invention. In 1936, Alma M. Karlin published a novel about the sunken continent Isolanthis, describing a sort of Atlantis, called Poseidonia and containing many fantastical, fantasy, as well as theosophical elements.

In the 2nd half of the 20th century, it became very popular to write about space travel and contacts with alien civilizations and the most prominent examples of such writing are Dušan Kralj (First Encounter), Jože Dolničar (Pilot’s Blood, Decades and Seconds, The Sea is the Sky beneath Me) and Mitja Tavčar (Cabin Zero space opera). Vid Pečjak and Miha Remec write science fiction anti-utopias, but occasionally they both choose an optimistic ending in which individuals are successful in escaping the alienated hi-tech world. Vid Pečjak (also as Div Kajčep) described journey to other worlds, the life in them, various psychological states of mind and he warned about the fragility of nature (In the Claws of Gita, the Witch, Adam and Eve on the Planet of Old People, In the Embrace of Green Hell, Cataclysm or the Revenge of Selena, collections of short psychological science fiction stories like Where did Ema Lauš Disappear to?, Doctor of the Living and the Dead, Last Resistance and Search for the Beautiful Helena). His ecological-psychological science fiction is often pessimistic and the same could be said about the works of Miha Remec (also as Irena Remrom), the most prominent among them being the dystopian trilogy Iksion-Iksia-Iks (Iksion, or Escape from the Stage, Iksia, or Android's Farewell and Iks, or The Great Solitude of Noah’s Ark). He wrote many multi-layered and interpretatively rich sci-fi stories (Glow Bird, Astral Lighthouses, a selection) and science fiction novels (Journals of Earth's Envoy, Manna, Sniper Woman, or Pilgrimage to Tibetia, Hunter, Recognition or Black Time of the White Widow, Impure Daughter). He described also journeys in time (Mithra’s Lock of Hair or Time String into Petoviona) and frequently called attention to the endangerment of human beings as individuals and of nature as a whole. In 2017, Miha Remec published another science fiction novel, Hunter of Perceptions. He writes also sci-fi poetry, drama and fairytales, a unique fantasy tragicomedy Plague of Plastion and a political fantasy novel Green Alliance, as well as humorous fantasy-realistic historical and political stories Trapan Chronographies where things happen simultaneously on Earth and on Trapania. Franjo (Franc) Puncer published a sci-fi collection entitled Lost Man, pessimistic accounts of the time before or after a catastrophe. In his short story Transformation, people are being changed into robots and the novel Membrane, he writes about how people from Earth are abducted immediately after their death in order to be reanimated and used as a means to renew the population of aliens. Other authors writing at the peak of Slovenian and global sci-fi—in terms of motifs as well as their style—are Gregor Strniša, Boris Grabnar and Branko Gradišnik (his Explorer arbitrarily kills intelligent and harmless round beings; also remarkable is his visit to the 22nd century, On the Hunt, on the Run).

In the 80s, sci-fi was written by Samo Kuščer, Denis Rakuša, Bojan Meserko, Egist Zagoričnik, Jaša Zlobec and many more. In their stories (Miha Remec), alien beings could save the Earth or do not want to have anything to do with Earthlings or it is forbidden for them to contact us (Gradišnik, Pečjak), or they are taken advantage of (Pečjak) or they all live together with humans on other planets (Janja Srečkar, Fast Frequency trilogy)… Mankind is able to prevent a disaster on Earth (Sandi Sitar, Buried in Granite) or it destroys the planet (Samo Resnik, Stars and dumpsites, Vid Pečjak: Odysseus Returns), but a complete end of the human race is quite rare in Slovenian sci-fi literature (Franjo Puncer: Adamo).

Elements of cyberpunk or its predecessor genres can be recognized in Pečjak’s story Open Skulls, where an alien civilization steals human brains and uses them to produce supercomputers and only the brains of schizophrenics can save mankind from such an invasion. Also Iksion, or Escape from the Stage by Remec has such elements—a computer, programmed for eternity, making sure that human society functions well. The same can be said of his Recognition where people’s memories are being erased or searched. A work that stands out is the philosophical and futuristic novel Cracks by Marko Uršič, a fantasy of space and time intertwining in make-believe, memories, dreams and waking moments. Edo Rodošek is the third great figure of the Slovenian sci-fi scene. In addition to poetry he wrote many stories (most recently the collection from 2017, Step into the Unknown—Eighteen Stories That Have Not Happened Yet) and novels (Inseparable Duo takes place in the future when asteroids threaten the Earth and its main character searches for other planets suitable for life, while the main character of The Swamp is a conflicted cyborg, and in Almost the Same, robots, androids, cyborgs and other technological entities wish to dream, to feel, to have perceptions and emotions. His novel Haunted Castle features ghosts for which it eventually turns out that they are beings from other planets). In the weirdness of its themes and by being something like a mysterious gothic novel, it is somehow similar to the Manor House by Robert Titan Felix from 2017.

Around the turn of the millennium, some outstanding Slovenian sci-fi authors are Berta Bojetu (her brutal anti-utopia Filio is Not at Home and its sequel, Bird House, both describing how it is not the fault of technology but of people themselves if their society is violent and evil), Marjetka Jeršek (Emerald City, a utopian love novel, a mixture of dreams, hallucinations and eventual parallel worlds with robots and interplanetary vehicles, Ljubljana can be recognized here), Miha Mazzini (futuristic anti-utopia Satan’s Crown), Tone Perčič (Harmageddon on the future of Slovenia in an absurd war), Andrej Blatnik (Change Me, describing a grotesque future and extreme consumerism, again, Ljubljana is recognizable), Vesna Lemaić (Disposal Facility), Iztok Osojnik (the protagonist of the fantasy novel Pigs Flying into the Sky is Primož Truba, an allusion to Trubar, author of the first book printed in Slovenian), Boris Čerin (futuristic Curse of the Two-Headed Clown and They Came for Me), Mladen Tratnjak (sci-fi novel Observatory 775), Nina Arlič (Gorgonaut, a sort of a sci-fi love story with the protagonist Paprika Kej of a librarian persuasion), Janko Lorenci (sci-fi love story Travelling towards Leonarda), Rok Sieberer Kuri (futuristic trilogy taking place also in other galaxies and universes: Stories of Jessi, The Story of Frenk Nissan, Sherry’s Storry), Franc Puncer (Rope of Time containing travels to a far future and extreme future, to the frontier—a web, through which time flows into our universe and that catches the rest; from the prehistoric town of Celje (Celea Praehistorica) to New Celje (Celea Futura), and the city of the year 4000 (Celea Futurissma)). The author under the pseudonym Mara R. Sirako wrote a space saga (space opera) Dangober, Combat by the Warning Indicator 1, 2, 3, describing an encounter and clash of two very different civilizations where many beings have names and characteristics that are associated with deities from various mythologies.

Andrej Ivanuša wrote novels and short stories of speculative fiction, but also the fantasy novel Svetodrev which is the first book in the series of Legends from the Forest of Tokara (fantasy world with intelligent reptiles who have three sexes), as well as the science fiction with elements of a crime novel, Rheia, and an epic fantasy poem Vilindar. Bojan Ekselenski is the author of a fantasy epic full of intrigues, magic and battles, Knights and Wizards, published in 2017. His latest novel from 2018 is Lubliana High School of Magic with its world of wizards that is parallel to the real world. Barbara Čibej wrote a fantasy adventure novel with ninjas, the Secret of the Warrior. Under the pseudonym of Maia Pleiades, an adventure fantasy was published, The Final Battle of the Gods. Sebastjan Koleša portrayed pirates, elves, goblins, demons, terrifying beasts, beings from outer space and other extraordinary creatures in The Seventh World.

Slovenian chivalric, horror, gothic and dark novels usually take place in medieval times and are combined with the mixture of adventure, myths, pseudo-history, fairy-tales, legends and the fantasy world. They describe knights, witches, heroes and heroines, nobility, castles and monasteries. An interweaving of history and fiction can be found already in the 14th century with the Celje Chronicles and it continued in the 19th and 20th centuries with Peter Bohinjec, Jožef Urbanija, Ivan Lah and many more. In 1858, Fran Levstik wrote a parody of the chivalric novel, Martin Krpan. There was also some horror literature and fantastic novels about demons (Valentin Zarnik, Fran Erjavec, Valentin Mandelc, Josip Podmilšak, Silvester Košutnik, France Bevk (The Dead are Returning). Some people say that the first in the series of vampire sagas (like those by Isabella M. Grey, Eva Šegatin…) was a passage in the monumental work by the natural historian Johann Weikhard Freiherr von Valvasor, The Glory of the Duchy of Carniola, in 1689, where he mentioned Giure or Jure Grando (1579–1656) from Istria (Kringa) who therefore might be the first real person to be described in a book as a vampire—a shtrigon.

Alen Nemec wrote the book Swordsman (2017) that will be the first part of a fantasy trilogy, The Resurrection of the Swordsman containing stories about warriors, castles, kingdoms, intrigues, myths, dark forces and the battles against them. Aleš Oblak is the author of a horror fantasy House of Good Gentlemen, composed of seven intertwined, unusual, terrifying and cruel short stories. For Anor Kath by Samo Petančič it could be said that it is splatterpunk to a certain degree, since it has some moments of horror and terror fiction. Similar elements of fantasy and science fiction in a dark and gloomy atmosphere of cruelty and violence can be recognized also in the work of Lenart Zajc (e.g. Hevimetal). Another important author of fantasy stories is Amedeja M. Ličen (Goodbye, Glorious World! where she uses motifs from science, pseudoscience and myths to describe an ideal society with lots of humour and irony, since that society is of course not ideal). Danila Žorž has to be mentioned as well, she wrote an archaeological sci-fi crime novel Izklop, a fantasy trilogy True World: Enchanting Angel, Cursed Angel and Fallen Angel that is still in the making).

A hybridity of genres is characteristic of more modern science fiction, fantasy and horror, like in the works of Marjan Tomšič, where there is a mixture of magical and fantastic realism, science fiction and psych fiction, imaginary and philosophical elements, magical Istrian themes, superpowers, evil dark forces, thinking plants, animals and inanimate nature, new forms of communication in outer space, the threat of disasters and the contacts with aliens. His Spells of the Full Moon (3 volumes) are a psycho-fictional vortex of post-apocalyptic horror fantasy, dreams, hallucinations and unusual entities of existence, while, Óštrigéca and The Grain of Frmenton are contemporary fairytale novels, just like Someone was Playing the Piano by Boris Jukić and Tanaja by Sanja Pregl. Vlado Žabot in his Nights of the Wolf described a weird, dark and dispiriting vampiric atmosphere, an irrational world of dreams, half-dreams, delusions, sensory disturbances and hallucinations. Tomšič, Žabot and Feri Lainšček (in his horror novel The Woman Carried in by the Fog) could sometimes be considered to write landscape fantasy horror novels. The Secret of the Valley of Petrified Dragons trilogy by Nataša Vrbančič Kopač (Generator of Books, Dragon Temple, Battle for Erno) contains elements of comedy, ethics and physics and begins with a scientist whose invention gets out of control and this is then followed by a long and fantastic journey. Axis mundi, Axis of the World (written by Aksinja Kermauner) is a combination of fantasy, contemporary physics, chaos theory, journey into the past and much more. Boris Višnovec wrote a collection of sci-fi stories Hunters of Dreams.

Tim Horvat described a search of Atlantis in his Seekers of Lost Cities—Treasure of Triglav, where there is a hall inside the highest mountain of Slovenia and in it the Porta Thrigllaev—the only portal into Atlantis. In Frankensteins of the New Era, Gaja Hren wrote an antiutopia with many clones (Albert Einstein, Adolf Hitler, Friedrich Nietzsche, Nikola Tesla, Leonardo da Vinci…). Dušan Dim described a futuristic world where people have an advanced technology implanted under their skin, Excuse me, your life does not exist.

The tradition of utopias has its place also in young adult fiction and in children's—but not childish—literature, represented by Ivo Šorli (In the Land of Chirimoorzzi—an underground tale for the young), Branimir Žganjer (Exactly Three Days Late), Miha Remec (Dandelion Fluff in Space), Ivan Sivec (Holydays on Mars) and Vid Pečjak (various novels and short stories featuring robots). Writers of young adult fantasy are Magdalena Cundrič: Alioth or the Tail of the Grat Bear (dreams, holograms, robots, hybrids), Barbara Čibej (Arcas and The Warrior’s Secret), Maks Lenart Černelč’s W5051 Family, Žiga X. Gombač: Buddies and Time Warriors (about ancient bracelets, interdimensional portals, being between times).

Some of the more interesting comic book authors are Branko Zinauer (sci-fi comic Planet of Three Suns), Andrej Hermann (sci-fi psychological thriller Airport without Guards), Bojan Šlegl (sci-fi comics Circ-I Calling Earth, Earth Fleat Attacking together with the writer Marko Mihelčič), Božo Debeljak (Shipwreck in Space), Gašper Krajnc (“monster horror” comic Rite in cooperation with the writer Matic Večko), Tomaž Lavrič (hardcore sci-fi comic Blind Sun, fantasy trilogy Lomm about an unusual being from the nest of flying mutants) and the funny sci-fi comics Erlšpik on the Planet Beta and Radovan from the Planet Beta (Matjaž Schmidt). Under the name of Ninel, Iztok Sitar’s comic reinterpreted the antiutopia 4000 by Tavčar, where Ljubljana of the future has flying saucers, but it is still rather a town of the past. should also be mentioned Jakob Klemenčič, his comics feature some morbid characters, weirdoes, six-legged pigs, chickens with three eyes and calves with two heads (Tale of the Painting Man), Marko Kociper (aliens in the comic Badger and the Rest of the World) and Matej Kocjan—Koco, whose Honey talks—Painted Beehive Panels in Comics have a great deal of fantasy and sci-fi and are continuously being published since 2006.

The most important Slovenian publisher of speculative fiction is the Blodnjak publishing studio with authors like Igor Zobavnik, Aaron Kronski/Tomo Rebolj, Bojan Meserko and others. Short sci-fi, fantasy and horror stories are occasionally published in anthologies (Terra—almanac of science fiction, Stardust, Stardust—Another Galaxy, Singularity, Blodnjak (Maze) of science fiction, Blodnjak 2, 4 and 6, Fantazija) and in magazines like Življenje in tehnika, Neskončnost, Supernova—Magazine for speculative fiction and Jašubeg en Jered (that sometimes has a special issue in English, Jashubeg en Jered). ŽIT magazine (Življenje in tehnika or Ljudska tehnika originally) started to publish the first sci-fi stories in 1952. At first, these were mostly translations, but after 1989 more stories written by Slovenian authors emerged, amounting to about 10 percent of all the stories in the magazine; from 2015, their share is now about 90 percent. The publishing house that owns the magazine—Tehniška založba Slovenije, has been making sci-fi collections from 1961 to 1996, they were called Spektrum (In Rainbow Wings, I’m Afraid, How the World was saved…) and they contained many first published works by Slovenian writers such as Marjan Tomšič and his Wind of Eternity.

In 2017, the young adult fantasy novel Taronian Secret by Maja M. Taron came out, as well as the young adult fantasy Argo Megacircus by Feri Lainšček. Milan Petek Levokov wrote So Close, So Far Away—short sci-fi prose—these are classic science fiction stories with elements of humour, pessimism, philosophy and a lot more. In the same year, he published four other books and had another one reprinted. In 2018, Erik Sancin wrote the science-fiction novel Elevator in which he painted a new image of an impoverished Earth and Moon after the Third Cataclysm. The planet is inhabited by so-called Othersiders, who are New Territory people, and by mutated and degenerated beings (cannibals or so-called Overalls). This dynamic novel sometimes switches from being like a first-person shooter game to being like a stealth game and back and I could easily imagine it in the form of a video game or a film. I really hope that it will be at least translated into English.

Motifs of fantasy and horror have for a long time been present in Slovenian literature, especially in science fiction. Scientific, technical and social utopias and anti-utopias appeared relatively late, but when they did, they soon became very popular. Thought experiments with theoretically possible worlds are still quite common. On the other hand, science fiction, was establishes rather soon (second half of the 19thcentury) and contained some very modern ideas. Then it continued to be created in quiet for a while until it reached its new peak in the eighties.

Tomaž Janežič in his Resurrection of Neptune used elements of cyberpunk to describe the genius computer programme called Neptune. It was followed by the 2nd generation Neptune with which its extra-systemic visionary hacker creator was brought back to life with some telekinetic and other improvements. The story takes place in Ljubljana (there is BTB—a Bermuda triangle of Bežigrad) and is based on the premise that water is eternal, so since a human body is made up of 70% water (this is why the name of the programme is Neptune), this share of a human being is eternal and only 30% belong to the sphere of time, which could be changed so that time would not be the strongest part of us anymore. Muanis Sinanović’s Anastrophe (2017) is a mixture of cyberpunk and New Weird (Ljubljana is featured among other places; it loses its status of a town in the future and becomes a village).

Martin Vavpotič, a representative of steampunk or retrofuturism wrote the historical fantasy novel Over Great West Sea and in the English language, he published Clockworks Warrior: a steampunk novella containing flying machines and other fantastical ideas. Individual elements of both these genres are present also in some stories by Pečjak, Remec and others. Wonderful Clone by Barbara Pešut under the pseudonym of Eva Pacher is a piece of mutant erotic/pornographic science fiction. Marko Vitas wrote 2084, a sci-fi dystopia (another one taking place in Ljubljana) which is the unofficial continuation of the cult classic 1984 by George Orwell. Fantasy, fiction, futurism, philosophy and cosmology are combined in the philosophical and literary tetralogy—Four Seasons by Marko Uršič, where things happen in the past and in the future, in multi-layered versions of the present and in timelessness, while exploring strict, hard-core philosophy, its history and its present. The works by Matjaž Štrancar like Blue Drug and Other Stories contain sci-fi and alternative histories.

Grasshopper Hunter by Jurij Pfeifer is philosophical, humorous and grotesque sci-fi novel. Frane Tomšič’s Third Century in the Era of Cybernetics is a futuristic and philosophical post-apocalyptic anti-utopia set in the far future. In 2017 and 2018, Sebastijan Pešec published his philosophical fantasy novel Perdikas. Wondrous discoveries, voyages extraordinaires, dark tales of the strange can often be found as parts or as defining characteristics of literary works and increasing number of hybrid literature that is full of sci-fi, fantasy and horror elements. 2018 saw also the publication of the English translation of The Barrens by Miha Remec and his sci-fi anti-utopia Poetovian Trilogy (Clone Sin, Spider Webs of Time, Poetovian Desinification the latter two were written together with Aleksandra Jelušič). Among interesting releases this year are also the sci-fi crime novel Wotan’s Daughters by Tomaž Kukovica, Another Colour of Rain by Nejka Štiglic from her Different Colours series, the dystopia by Alojz Rebula where the Vatican is relocated to China, By the Tributary of the Yangtze. The slipstream that is rich with fiction is probably more interesting for the (post)information age than the old-school sci-fi, so for quite some time now there are sudden elements of fantasy, postmodern fiction, magic realism, futuristic, supernatural and surrealistic worlds in a realistic narrative flow (Mammoths by Jernej Županič, Dušan Merc, Lev Detela, Mojca Kumerdej, Milan Kleč, Eva Markun).

Unlike in traditional Slovenian novels, genres were mixed more intensely towards the end of the 20th century and novels from that time and later have many unusual or bizarre characteristics resembling fairytales, anti-utopias, alternative histories, the fantastic or horror. This hybridity of genres still continues at the present moment, so it is very fortunate that contemporary Slovenian novels have a stronger and stronger trend to include various fantastic, futuristic and fantasy elements.

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Nena Škerlj is a philosopher and art historian and works as a librarian in some super libraries, does many different things, engages in various and diverse activities, but above all likes to stick her nose into books as can well be seen in this photo that is actually an installation, a One Minute Sculpture by Erwin Wurm.

Interview with Tihema Baker

One more visit from an author with a story in the Pacific Monsters anthology published by our friends at Fox Spirit Books and edited by Margrét Helgadóttir. We always love hearing from authors, and Tihema Baker was kind enough to answer a few questions about his writing, culture and literature in Aotearoa New Zealand, translation and childhood fears. Read on, and then go check out his fabulous published work.

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Tihema Baker is a young Māori writer, belonging to the iwi (nations) of Ngāti Raukawa ki te Tonga, Te Āti Awa ki Whakarongotai, and Ngāti Toa Rangatira. He grew up and lives on the Kāpiti Coast of Aotearoa New Zealand. He currently works full-time at Parliament in Wellington as Private Secretary to the Minister for Crown/Māori Relations. He is the author of Watched, a YA novel about teenagers with superpowers, which was a finalist for Best Youth Novel at the Sir Julius Vogel Awards 2015, and earned a finalist position in the Best New Talent category at the same awards. He also has a short story published in Huia Short Stories 10 called “Kei Wareware Tātou”; which won Best Short Story in te reo Māori (the Māori language) at the Pikihuia Māori Writers Awards 2013. He is on Facebook as Tihema Baker - Author, and blogs at Tihema's Dilemmas.

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TFF: Could you tell us more about the Patupaiarehe people who appear in your Pacific Monsters story? What would usually happen when the human characters like those in your story “Children of the Mist” meet them?

Tihema Baker: Accounts vary between iwi and regions, but I guess the fairly common threads between them all are that Patupaiarehe are an ancient people who inhabit the mountains and forests of Aotearoa New Zealand and are believed to have done so since before Māori arrived somewhere around 1000-1200AD. Sightings of them are almost always at night or under the cover of mist, and they are characterised as fair-skinned and -haired, which is where we get the term “Urukehu” from; in older times fair-skinned and -haired Māori were believed by some to be the offspring of human-Patupaiarehe relationships and they were referred to as Urukehu, literally meaning “red-haired.” Similarities between accounts probably stop there; I’ve heard stories of Patupaiarehe being giants, or walking on legs like rabbits’. In some stories Patupaiarehe were kind to humans, showed them how to hunt and fish, and even fell in love with them—and vice versa. In darker stories Patupaiarehe weren’t kind to humans at all, bewitching them with cruel magic. Wherever the truth lies, I think any encounter with them should be treated with respect.

Is there a tradition of Māori science fiction, fantasy or horror (books, films, or other media)? Does Māori literature influence New Zealand culture more widely very much?

I’m not aware of a real tradition of Māori speculative fiction. In my personal opinion, there exists in Aotearoa New Zealand a hierarchy within Māori literature, and Māori speculative fiction is at the bottom. Our big name Māori writers—and I do not say this to undermine them in any way—are not typically speculative fiction writers. I’ve personally found it difficult as a Māori writer to find support for my speculative fiction writing and I believe this to be because the genre is not taken seriously by the Māori literary community at large. As an example, my sci-fi novel Watched was a Best Youth Novel finalist at the Sir Julius Vogel Awards for science fiction, fantasy, and horror, yet the publisher—our leading publisher of Māori literature—declined to take on the sequel. It’s not a criticism but just the reality I’ve experienced as a Māori writer of speculative fiction.

Do you think that any kind of story could be told to children or young adults or are there limits?

I thought for a while about this. My first reaction was yes, there are limits. But then I thought about my childhood/adolescence and remembered that I was reading things I probably wasn’t supposed to years in advance. I don’t mean that in an arrogant way; I mean it in the way that, as children typically are, I was hungry to “know” things. At times, that hunger for knowledge led me to things that my parents probably would have preferred I come across at a later stage in life. I guess my point is that I think we sometimes underestimate the ability of young people to understand what we do as adults or grasp certain concepts. That doesn’t mean I think we should tell all sorts of gruesome stories to children, but just respect their ability to understand, to show empathy. I think it’s about how you tell a story, not necessarily the story itself.

Do you translate your own stories from Māori to English? How different do they feel to you afterwards?

I don’t actually write primarily in te reo Māori. The reason for this is, while I have a decent understanding of the language, I’m still far from what I would consider to be fluent. When I write I need to be able to express myself as fully as I can, and unfortunately my proficiency with te reo Māori is just not yet at a stage that allows me to do that. What I will say, though, is that I often have to translate things from Māori to English for colleagues in my day-to-day work. I find te reo Māori to be a very poetic, metaphoric language, and one of the beautiful things about it—like any other language, I assume—is that ideas are often expressed in ways they just can’t be in English. This can make translating from Māori to English challenging when there just aren’t the words to describe a fundamentally “Māori” idea, or when the depth of that idea or word is lost in English. I think in those instances the Māori word should just be left as is—there are plenty of phrases in other languages that English has adopted because they need no translation, so maybe we should do that for Māori phrases more often too!

Could you give an example of such an untranslatable word?

A good example is the word “mana”—common translations would be “authority”, “prestige”, “respect”, or even “power”. Those single words don’t convey the depth of the concept, though; in my view (and I stress I am not an expert, and my understanding may be very different from those far more knowledgeable than I am), one can have great mana but not necessarily respect, or have great mana but no authority. It's relative, and one person's mana may always trump another's depending on the circumstances and/or the relationship between the two. Mana is inherited but it can also be bestowed—and removed, sometimes irrevocably. It's a spiritual concept just as much as it is societal, and there are different expressions of it; mana wahine describes the mana specifically held by women, while mana whenua refers to those who have mana over land or a certain geographical area. Land itself can be perceived to have mana, as can water. I’ve just written a paragraph and I’m still probably miles away from giving it an accurate description! But when you understand the meaning that the word "mana" encapsulates, you also understand why it can't be translated.

If you could choose a superpower for yourself, which one would you pick?

I get asked this all the time and I’m afraid I have a very clichéd answer! I would love the ability to fly. I don’t care how: gravity- or wind-manipulation, shape-shifting, I’ll take anything that gets me airborne.

Illustration by Eugene Smith,
for “Children of the Mist” (Pacific Monsters)

What is the oldest memory you have?

My oldest memory is of my mum. I must have been about three years old; I walked into my bedroom, where I think Mum was sitting on my bed, folding clothes, and went up to her for a cuddle.

I don’t think I’ve shared this before but I actually have another very early, bizarrely vivid memory from around the same age. It was the moment I realised my own mortality. I just remember sobbing to my mum with the realisation that one day, inevitably, I was going to die and I didn’t want to. She did her best to console me by saying that I had a long, happy life ahead of me before then. She also said that everybody dies, and one day she will too. That didn’t make me feel better. I don’t know why that memory is so clear; maybe that was a life-defining moment, or maybe I was just a weird kid. Probably both.

What is your favorite progressive SFF movie or TV show?

Black Mirror has to be one of my favourite shows, hands-down. It often makes me feel uncomfortable, makes me think about our society and our future, and makes me confront things about myself I probably don’t want to. But that’s the great thing about it. It makes me think. Any piece of art that makes someone question their understanding of the world (and in some episodes, reality!) is great, in my opinion.

Can I also branch out a little bit; I’m a gamer, too, and I believe video games are quickly becoming a powerful art form in their own right. In terms of progressive SFF games, it’s hard to go past the Mass Effect series (or anything from Bioware, really). It’s one thing to have a well-written story supported by excellent characters and engaging gameplay mechanics, but another when that story is dictated by the player, who can customise their character however they wish, pursue romances with characters of any gender, both human and alien, and whose actions have consequences that carry across games. It’s a series that forces players to make choices, and live with the effects of those decisions on themselves and others. There hasn’t really been another video game experience that has stayed with me in the same way that my character and my decisions in that game have.


What are you working on next-what can fans of your writing look forward to?

My immediate priority is getting my second novel, the sequel to Watched, published. I have a completed manuscript so now it’s just a matter of finding a publisher. I’ve also just started work on the third and I’m really enjoying it! Aside from that I have some other ideas I’d like to dedicate more time and research to; a historical novel exploring the relationships between my three iwi in the 1800s, and I’d also love to write something fantastical set in space.

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You can find Tihema’s story “Children of the Mist” in Pacific Monsters, and his novel Watched from Huia Books.

Interview with Bryan Kamaoli Kuwada

The CFS for Making Monsters may have closed, but our ongoing quest for monsters continues… This week we’re joined by Bryan Kamaoli Kuwada, author of the story “All My Relations” in the Pacific Monsters anthology from our friends at Fox Spirit Books. Our third visitor from the Pacific region, Bryan was kind enough to chat to us about his story, his writing, Hawaiian monsters, and the sea.

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Bryan Kamaoli Kuwada is a tiny part of his beautiful beloved Hawaiian community that fights every day for breath, for ea, for connection, for sovereignty. He is sometimes called tree, bear, Morris, hoa, and more. He is also sometimes an academic, editor, translator, blogger (hehiale.wordpress.com), poet, writer of dorky sff stories set in Hawaiʻi, photographer, and/or videographer. What he mostly does is surf with his mother and a crew of fierce activist poet wāhine who tease (and teach) him mercilessly.

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The Future Fire: Is the kupua in “All My Relations” an evil monster (in the conscious way that only humans can be truly evil) or is it just a naturally predatory creature like the shark?

Bryan Kamaoli Kuwada: I don’t think that I would say that the kupua is evil. I think that he is just working from a different set of cultural values than we are. For example, his ideas about justice fall more in line with an understanding of living in balance with things around him, being a part of the cycle of life and death, that aligns a little more with traditional Hawaiian understandings of the world. It’s when he really isn’t allowed to participate in the world according to that understanding of justice anymore that he truly becomes monstrous. Though his situation is taken to an extreme, I think that it sheds light on what happens, particularly for indigenous folks, when their worldviews come into conflict with society at large. We are then seen as monstrous and without a place in contemporary times or society.

Is there a science fiction and fantasy tradition in Hawai‘i, and is it distinct from SFF elsewhere?

BKK: This is a tricky question in certain ways, and I guess kind of depends on what kind of genres and cultural understandings you are working with. I think that a lot of our traditional moʻolelo (story/tale/history/account) have elements that jibe very well with fantasy, which is actually what drew me to fantasy in the first place. I read a lot of “myths” from different places when I was younger because there were very few books with Hawaiian stories in them when I was little. But even though some of what appears in our moʻolelo align with elements that appear in fantasy stories, we have never seen them in that way. These are not myths and legends, they are stories that populate the landscape and inform our daily lives.

Living on an island, how visceral is your relationship with the sea?

BKK: For many, but not all, of us who live in Hawaiʻi, we have a very deep relationship with the sea. It’s how we feed our families (though I myself am a terrible fisherman) and how we spend our free time. Those things in and of themselves are not such visceral connections, but what being so intimate with the ocean teaches you is respect.

Some of the most experienced waterpeople, divers and surfers alike, have been taken by the sea, sometimes on clear days and in calm conditions. So many of us have lost people to the water, sometimes because they were inexperienced, but mostly because the ocean is that powerful. We are so often humbled by the sea, and entering it means entering the food chain, something that we are not used to anymore.

I think that is also one of the reasons we are so dismissive of tourists sometimes. We see them on the North Shore in winter, near the shorebreak, turning their backs to the ocean so they can take group photos with the giant waves in the background. We hear about them on the news because they were killed when they went too close to the blowhole where the ocean comes shooting out a hundred feet into the air. One of the things we learn first as young children is to respect the ocean, and so for us the power of the ocean and the danger that comes with it is a basic fact of life, and if you don’t understand that, maybe it’s best if you don’t interact with the ocean.

Among other things, you write steampunk stories set in Hawai‘i. Can you give us a little teaser?

BKK: I recently had a story entitled “Ke Kāhea: The Calling” published in an anthology entitled Black Marks on the White Page, edited by Tina Makereti (whose story is also in Pacific Monsters) and Witi Ihimaera, from Penguin New Zealand. The story takes place in the Hawaiian kingdom of the nineteenth century and these giant creatures called tutua have been coming and destroying heiau (temples) and burial sites.

In Hawaiian, we have a saying “i ka ʻōlelo nō ke ola, i ka ʻōlelo nō ka make” [‘in language there is life, in language there is death,’] so to combat the tutua, a woman whose mother can heal with her voice, a practice we call lāʻau kāhea, combines that training with a device that changes the frequency of her voice to call forth a goddess from a traditional story printed in the Hawaiian-language newspapers.

One of the reasons that steampunk appeals to me is the broadly Victorian settings, because the Hawaiian kingdom, though very much a Hawaiian kingdom, had a lot of Victorian influence. Queen Kapiʻolani and Liliʻuokalani even attended Victoria’s jubilee, and Queen Emma was a penpal of Victoria’s. One of the things that having steampunk set in the Hawaiian kingdom lets me do too is bring my historical research to bear and let people know things about the kingdom that they never knew.

I mean, I think most people didn’t even know that Hawaiʻi was a kingdom, much less one that was modern and progressive and had near universal literacy and a widespread public education system. ʻIolani Palace had flushing toilets before the White House did. Hawaiʻi outlawed slavery before the United States did and declared that any slave who made it to Hawaiian territory was automatically free. It wasn’t a perfect place, by any means, but it was much different than people understand. We still get described as Stone Age in the newspapers even now.

What is your favourite place to write or create art?

BKK: I admit that this is not my most productive place to write or create art (that’s mainly sitting in front of my computer writing or doing post on photos I’ve taken), but I love to create with my friends. It’s where I get the most inspiration and strength from them. Most of my friends are activists or writers or poets or artists or all of those things, and so when we get a chance we will gather together and prompt each other to write or produce art that we can present to the community and raise awareness about certain issues.

For example, some friends had attended a conference in Papua New Guinea, where some folks from West Papua talked about the genocide they were facing —500,000 killed since the 1950s—under Indonesian military occupation (and please look this up if you haven’t heard about any of this before). And the folks at the conference asked my friends, who are poets and musicians, to help spread the word about what is happening with them. So we had a gathering at my house, where folks familiar with the situation came and talked to us about it and then we ate together and wrote and planned.

I can’t remember the exact time frame, but maybe about a month later, we put on a performance at Kamakūokalani, the Center for Hawaiian Studies at the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. We had poetry and music and speakers, even traditional Hawaiian chants of lamentation for the West Papuans who had been killed. And even though it was a heavy performance to be a part of, it felt important.

If you joined a motley crew of pirates, what would be your sea-name?

BKK: Haha, the women I surf with are a pretty motley crew themselves. They’re all activist poet/writer/organizer folks. And my mom. But they call me Bear, partially because I’m a big guy (and maybe cuddly?) but also because they think I’m kind of growly to other people out in the lineup. So my name also evolved into Justice Bear and Murderbear. I’m thinking Murderbear would lend itself more to high seas piracy than something more cuddly, although I don’t know if a bear is the most fitting sea metaphor.

What are you working on next? What can people who enjoyed “All My Relations” look forward to reading?

BKK: I really wish that the next thing people read from me would be my dissertation! But alas, I am not sure if that is going to happen. February is Hawaiian Language Month, so I just published a sci-fi story in Hawaiian, but I’m working on a story now having to do with deep-sea mining and people genetically modified with shark DNA and trying to connect it with our beliefs around ʻaumākua, or ancestral guardians.

There are also a lot of endangered native species here in Hawaiʻi and a lot of our environment is threatened by invasive plant and animal species, so I’m also working on a series of stories that has a section of the state’s Department of Land and Natural Resources that deals with invasive species that are threatening our magical environment as well, and I think Hawaiʻi works well for that kind of storyline because we have so many different cultures here that have come through here and mixed their cultural beliefs and values in with ours.

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Thank you for joining us, Bryan!

Interview with Raymond Gates

Next up in our “monstrous season” of interviews, we’re joined by Raymond Gates, one of the authors of Fox Spirit Books’ Pacific Monsters, who comes to answer a few questions about Australian horror (and other genres), his writing (and other art-forms), monsters and horrors in general.

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Raymond Gates is an Aboriginal Australian writer currently residing in Wisconsin, USA, whose childhood crush on reading everything dark and disturbing evolved into an adult love affair with horror and dark fiction. He has published many short stories, several of which have been nominated for the Australian Shadows Awards and one, “The Little Red Man,” received an honourable mention in The Year’s Best Horror 2014. His most recent publications include “The Sung Man” in Christopher Sequieria's, Sherlock Holmes: The Australian Casefiles (Echo Publishing), an anthology examining the explorations of Holmes and Watson in late-19th century Australia, and coming in April, “There Is Such Thing as a Whizzy-gang” in David Moore's Not So Stories (Rebellion Publishing), a dark twist on Rudyard Kipling's Just So Stories for Children.

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The Future Fire: Tell us more about the Bunyip, the Australian monster that is featured in your Pacific Monsters story “The Legend of Georgie,” and what should we do if we ever meet one?

Raymond Gates: The Bunyip is a classic Australian cryptid that most, if not all, Australian kids learn about. It generally favours Australia’s inland waterways, and sightings of it appear all over the country. From my research, written records of Bunyips were first made in the nineteenth century as Europeans began learning the stories of various Aboriginal clans. To me it’s reminiscent of the platypus in that accounts of it describe it as having many features of other creatures: canine or feline face, reptilian head, tusks (or without), horns (or without), flippers—regional descriptions vary considerably. If you meet one, run.

Are there more monsters in Australia, or in Wisconsin?

RG: I think both Australia and Wisconsin are untapped mines of monsters and other terrors. Each presents a unique home for an assortment of creatures. I’ve previously written about the Yara Mar Yha Who, Australia’s own vampire (in “The Little Red Man,” part of Ticonderoga Press’ Dead Red Heart anthology) and the deadly Drop Bear (in “Tourist Trap,” part of the Demonic Visions anthology series). Think of Australia’s diverse landscape, much of it remote, even inaccessible. Who knows what’s out there? The same goes for Wisconsin. Bordered by two of the great lakes (Michigan and Superior) with a rich wilderness and quiet, rural areas. When I’m driving some back road late at night, only the road ahead visible amongst the towering corn stalks, I often wonder what could be out there. Waiting.

Is there anything particular to Indigenous horror and speculative fiction, that makes it stand out from similar genres in other parts of the world?

RG: The thing that stands out to me in Indigenous spec fic is that there’s not enough of it, especially in horror. I’m fortunate to know several Aboriginal Australian spec fic writers who mainly write in sci-fi and/or YA dystopian, and their work often mirrors some of the historical and contemporary issues Aboriginal peoples have and continue to face. I think that makes it stand out, but perhaps in a more subtle way. It’s like a subtle, perhaps subliminal, form of education. However, as I meet Indigenous authors from other cultures, I’m finding that they are engaging audiences in the same ways. So perhaps not unique, just different. Aboriginal peoples are oral historians; it’s in our nature to tell stories. I’d just like see much more of it!

What brought Holmes and Watson to Australia?

RG: You would probably do better to ask the editor, Christopher Sequieria, about Holmes’ motives for travelling to Australia. As for the motivation that led to my story, “The Sung Man,” I like to think Holmes would be intrigued to explore the Australian outback, and in some of the unique features of our land, like Uluru. As for poor Watson, let’s face it: he goes where Holmes goes.

What was the thing that scared you the most when you were a child?

RG: My personal horror was dealing with bullies on an almost daily basis throughout the majority of my pre-teen and teen years. When you wake up every morning and wonder what kind of ridicule, or beating, or abuse you’re going to have to deal with that day, the thing under your bed or in your closet doesn’t seem that bad.

How did you pick horror and dark as your genres? Have you always been attracted to them?

RG: I don’t think I chose horror so much as it chose me. From the time I was old enough to cross the road by myself I would visit the local second-hand bookstore and buy back copies of Creepy, Eerie, Vampirella. I remember reading the novelised version of Friday the 13th Part 3 when I was in sixth grade. In seventh grade my creative writing piece was titled “The School That Dripped Blood” and earned me requests for re-reads from my classmates and requests for an explanation from my principle. Horror has always been part of my life. We all encounter darkness throughout different stages of our lives. For me, horror has been a way of me giving it a creative outlet. Who knows what would happen if I didn’t let the darkness out once in a while?

Who is your favourite female horror writer and which of her stories would you recommend?

RG: I honestly don’t have a favourite, and if I pretended to have one it would only get me in trouble with the others. Having said that, I recently discovered and made the acquaintance of Lori R Lopez, who writes both short fiction and poetry amongst other things. I admire someone who can write horror poetry effectively, because writing horror is challenging under the best of circumstances, without having to put it into verse. That Lori does it in such a captivating way is a credit to her and the genre. Lindsey Goddard is another who I was privileged enough to read and critique a short-story for. Lindsey has a great and terrifying imagination.

One hundred years in the future, one of your descendants finds something that used to belong to you. What would you like that to be?

RG: Hopefully enough DNA to bring me back! I won’t mind sticking around for another hundred years. I’ve go too much to do!

Next to which author would you like to see your first novel on the bookshelf, when it hits the stores?

RG: Well just going alphabetically I hope to be within the same bookcase as authors such as King and Koontz. (I mean, who wouldn’t?) Frankly it would just be a thrill to be on a bookshelf. There isn’t much point to being an author if your stories aren’t out there for people to read and enjoy.

What are you working on next? What can fans of Ray Gates look forward to?

RG: I’ve pledged 2018 to be the year of my first novel. I’ve been promising myself and others that I would get this done and this year is the year I plan to do it. In line with that, I’m both looking at a mentoring opportunity through Crystal Lake Publishing, and hoping to find an agent that I can work with to progress my career. I’m limiting my short fiction this year, however I have been offered a chance to come up with a Cthulhu-based story for an anthology featuring Cthulhu’s denizens in Australia. I’m also in negotiations with an actor/film-maker about collaborating on a short film. A busy year indeed if all goes to plan. You can keep track of my progress through my website: http://raymondgates.com or via social media—look for Raymond Gates Dreaming.

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Thanks for joining us, Ray!

Interview with Iona Winter

It’s a monstrous season… as well as our Making Monsters in the works, our friends at Fox Spirit recently brought out the fourth in their series of horrific Books of Monsters, Pacific Monsters, edited like the rest by Margrét Helgadóttir. To celebrate, we’re inviting a few of the authors from the latest volume to visit the TFF Press blog and talk to us about their stories, their monsters, their writing, their fears, and other things from their part of the world. First up this month, we were delighted to welcome Iona Winter, author of the short story “Ink.”

Iona Winter is of Māori (Waitaha/Kāi Tahu) descent and lives in Otago, Aotearoa New Zealand. In 2016 she was awarded the Headland Frontier Prize, and performed at the Edinburgh International Book Festival. In 2017 her fiction was anthologised with Bath Flash Fiction, Nottingham Peacebuilders, Pacific Monsters, Elbow Room, Centum Press, and Ora Nui. Her writing has also appeared in numerous publications including: Flash Frontier, Reflex Fiction, Elbow Room, Headland and Corpus. Iona is passionate about representing Aotearoa in her creative work, writing hybrid forms that highlight the intersection between written and spoken word. Overlaying past, present and future, the traditional and contemporary, she creates a melding of the worlds we inhabit. You can find Iona on her blog, as @waitahaiona on Twitter, and on Facebook.

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The Future Fire: Tell us a bit about ‘Ink,’ your story for the Pacific Monsters anthology?
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Iona Winter: ‘Ink’ is about Tom who, after getting a tattoo of an extinct eagle on his chest, has frightening experiences, in the way of visions and serious health issues.

The story explores his journey with the mythological and supernatural aspects of Pouākai (the extinct Haast Eagle), and the impact upon both him and his whānau (family). It’s a tale of whakapapa (genealogy), wairua (spiritual elements), utu (vengeance) and connects mind, body, spirit, prophetic dreams, mythology, and tohu (signs).

In a way I see ‘Ink’ as about nature getting back at us humans for disrespecting the ecological order. It speaks to the loss of old traditions and knowledge, and the impact upon us in modern times when we don’t listen.

 

Is there something unique and culturally specific about writing speculative fiction as an Aotearoan and/or as a Māori author?
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IW: For me, it’s important to weave mind, body, spirit (including the supernatural), whenua (land and environment), tūpuna (ancestors), past and present​, because nothing is left out or happens in isolation from a Māori perspective. That said, not everything is spelled out and the reader is required to do some exploring too. It’s a bit like sitting in the wharenui (meeting house) and listening to our elders kōrero (talk)—sometimes you have no idea what they were talking about until some time later when everything falls into place. It’s holistic, but not necessarily linear.

I often receive a flow of words when I am out in nature, and whenever I have periods of time disconnected from Papatūānuku (Mother Earth) I notice my writing becomes stagnant. We are blessed to have such beautiful landscapes in Aotearoa, and writing often comes from my interaction with the environment. I take loads of photos, snapshots, and those inform my writing too.

Some of what I write might be classed as ‘speculative’ with understated terror, supernatural and inexplicable knowledge about events. But I don’t consciously write in a way that limits myself to one genre, because each piece takes its own shape while I am writing. I’m not sure if this is the case for other Māori authors or not, but being tuned in and conscious of all the elements seems to work (most of the time) for me.

Were you scared of something when you were a child?
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IW: I was terrified of the dark, probably because my grandfather told me awesome kēhua (ghost) stories. But ​I was also scared of things that other people couldn’t see. Being of Māori and Celtic whakapapa, with seers on both sides of the whānau, it has meant that (at times) I am open to seeing, hearing and feeling stuff that other people don’t. It freaked me out as a kid, but thankfully I had my grandfather and mother to help make sense of it, and in my thirties spent many years learning from tohunga (traditional healers).

I understand you’re about to start a PhD in creative writing. Can you tell us a bit about what you’ll be researching for that?
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IW: My topic is Pūrākau Mana Wāhine: Traditional Women’s Knowledge as passed on orally and between generations, with Indigenous Māori and Celtic women. It will take a bicultural approach, utilising feminist theory and Indigenous methodologies, and will reassert the legitimacy of Indigenous women’s lore, and the modern resurgence of traditional knowledge.

I’ll be exploring similarities between Indigenous Māori and Celtic women’s stories (of traditional lore) in fictional narratives, and create a contemporary body of fiction as the creative part of my research.

I’m looking forward to reimagining how originating cultural traditions, and the tension between these narratives and dominant paradigms in contemporary fiction, influence narrative voice.

Tell us about one of your favourite underrated authors?
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IW: I love Norma Dunning’s Annie Muktuk and Other Stories. The similarities are striking between Māori and Inuit ways of referencing ancestors, landscape, relationships, spirituality, mythology, and the social cultural political issues we face as tāngata whenua (Indigenous people). Her representations of trauma, love and grief with clever narrative twists are fantastic, as are the acts of revenge. She writes of sacred ancestral knowledge, informed by ancient spirits.

I also love that Norma Dunning is an older writer, in that she returned to creativity later in life, as many of us do after raising kids and having day-jobs to make ends meet.

I read that Norma Dunning put her stories in a drawer, so as not to have them colonised or rewritten from a western perspective—an issue which I believe many Indigenous authors face.

Here in Aotearoa New Zealand, we have shocking stats for published Māori writing—about 6% per annum of the overall writing published. I think this says a lot about how marginalised traditional Indigenous styles are, but it does create room for kōrero so we can support each other proactively, and get our writing out there in the world—thereby challenging the paradigms of what constitutes marketable writing.

I can’t help but wonder how many drawers are stuffed full of wonderful writing.

Who is your favourite mythological heroine?

IW: I’d say it’s a tie between Hine-nui-te-pō and Airmid.

Hine-nui-te-pō stands in the darkness welcoming those who have passed over, and she is the Goddess of night, death and the underworld. She holds memories of past lives and stories. Māui (one of her descendants) attempts to desecrate her tangata whenua (womb), the most sacred part of us women, to gain the secret to eternal life. After being woken by a Pīwakawaka (fantail bird) who laughs at his ridiculous idea, she snaps Māui in two with her thighs!

Airmid is the Goddess of the Healing Arts and belonged to the Tuatha De Dannann, the ancient people of Ireland. After experiencing trauma, violence and desecration she takes back her power and uses it for healing others via her medicinal herbs. She creates life from death, honouring natural cycles, and the position of women hearers being revered in Celtic society, independent from men. Basically a feminist!

Both women are of the earth, connected to it, and are powerful. I was taught that you can’t have the dark without the light (and vice-versa).

Do you have any other stories or books forthcoming? What can fans of Iona Winter look forward to?
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IW: I regularly submit short fiction to publications and competitions, so there’s bound to be more of that. Last year I was lucky enough to be published in several anthologies, and have a few other stories published online. I write poetry and blog regularly, and have two collections of short fiction out in the ether—I’m waiting patiently to hear if they are picked up for publication.

Thanks for joining us, Iona. Best of luck with the collections, and with the PhD!

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You can find Iona Winter online, or buy the Pacific Monsters anthology from Fox Spirit.

Speculative Fiction in Greece

Guest post by Dimitra Nikolaidou


While attending ΦantastiCon in Athens in 2017, readers of speculative literature must have felt elated to see so many Greek titles on sale for the first time. Compared to the dearth they had experienced for so long, this cornucopia of new voices seemed extremely promising and not a little surprising. What was the story here?

When it comes to speculative fiction, Greece had quite the head start. Lucian's True History is touted as the first work of science fiction; the Iliad and the Odyssey are considered among the first works of epic fantasy. Despite such illustrious beginnings though, the genre took a long while to flourish.

In 1987, the science fiction writer Makis Panorios began gathering more or less the entirety of Greek speculative short stories in six volumes (titled Το Ελληνικό Φανταστικό Διήγημα). His work reflects both the hardships as well as the persistence of those few dedicated to the craft. Until the early 2000's, not many writers had tackled the genre; the turbulent political situation which persisted until the early eighties, had ensured that fiction tended to focus on 'serious' issues, while the fantastical element was mostly limited to children' stories and folk tales. Even the seminal Lord of the Rings was not translated until 1978. As usual, it was pulp that came to the rescue: two separate paperback series, "Aurora" and "Terra Nova", published cheap anthologies that introduced translated classic short stories to the public. Along with paperbacks sold mostly at street kiosks, they introduced fans to the canon of speculative fiction.

In the late '90s-early 2000s, things began to change fast, in part due to the publication of 9 magazine, which was included in the major Eleftherotypia newspaper every Wednesday. While focusing mainly on comics, 9 also published a short story every week, either Greek or translated, thus providing speculative writers with a mainstream outlet as well as familiarizing the general public with the genre.


Soon, more writers felt encouraged to write speculative fiction, and new groups formed, which still remain influential today. ALEF, (Science Fiction Club of Athens), had formed in 1998; the editor of 9, Aggelos Mastorakis, was the president as well as one of the founding members. The Prancing Pony, a Tolkien appreciation society, was formed in 2002; the same year as the Espairos gaming society, began its activities. In 2003, the sff.gr forum allowed writers and fans of speculative fiction to gather in one large community for the first time.

At this time, few publishing houses were dedicated to the genre but almost all of them remain active today: among them are Sympantikes Diadromes (Universe Pathways), Locus-7, Anubis, Fantastikos Kosmos and Aghnosti Kadath (Unknown Kadath), which also operates the only dedicated SF bookshop in Greece. OXY and Triton were among those who ushered in the golden age, but have since ceased publication. Other major publishing houses such as Kedros, Aiolos and Archetypo, took and still take care to include important speculative fiction titles in their lineup.

While the genre had benefited from the success of Lord of the Rings movies in Greece, the same as every other Western country, it was paradoxically the economic crisis that gave it its biggest boost. On one hand, after 2010 more publishers turned to local writers in order to avoid high translation costs. On the other hand, the self-publishing industry suddenly flourished, in many forms: even major publishing houses started offering print-on-demand services, in order to supplement their income. Many speculative works thus found their way to print (though not always to the bookshops). After 2010, the scene grew fast and many new names came to the forefront.

My (inevitably subjective) roll-call of speculative fiction writers in Greece, begins with those who have been active long before the current boom. Makis Panorios, actor, anthologist and translator as well as science fiction writer, is still publishing novels and anthologies at the age of 82. So is Diamantis Florakis, one of the first bloggers worldwide, and author of mostly dystopian science fiction. George Balanos and Thomas Mastakouris both have served the genre for many years as translators and anthologists, while producing their own works in horror and fantasy respectively. Thanasis Vempos also translated many seminal works while producing his own science fiction novels and short stories. Dr Abraham Kawa (Democracy-2015, Το Ασήμι που Ουρλιάζει-2009) has contributed both to speculative fiction with his short stories and novels, as well as to academic research, along with Dr Domna Pastourmatzi, also a frequent contributor to the academic discourse on science fiction.

Among the newer generation, it is notable that many of the authors making waves in the genre began in the sff.gr online workshops, as well as in the ALEF workshops. Among those writers is Michalis Manolios, who won Albedo One's Aeon Award in 2010 with his short story 'Aethra', and whose work (Αγέννητοι Αδελφοί-2014, Και το Τέρα-2009ς, Σάρκινο Φρούτο-1999) falls between science fiction and horror. Other 'alumni' of sff.gr include Vasso Xristou (Λαξευτές 2007-2015), Antony Pashos (Πέρα από τη Γη των Θεών-2009) and Eirini Manta (Το Δαιμόνιο της Γραφής-2012), who have penned fantasy and dark fantasy works. In the realm of horror, (easily the most popular genre among Greek writers), Perikles Bozinakis (Απόκρημνος Χρόνος-2008, Η Άβυσσος πίσω από την Πόρτα-2015), George Lagonas (Μεσονυκτικό-2015), P. Μ. Zervos (Η Εξορία του Προσώπου-2017), Maria Rapti (Τα Χειρόγραφα των Σκοτεινών-2015) and Konstantinos Kellis (H Σκιά στο Σπίτι-2016) are also very well-regarded. Authors Petros Tsalpatouros (Έλος-2009), Teti Theodorou (Από τη Σκόνη-2013), Vaya Pseftaki (Ενυδρία-2011), C. Α. Cascabel (Δράκων-2015), Kostas Xaritos, Stamatis Ladikos, and stand up comedian Elias Fountoulis have produced one quite well-received novel each, while Konstantinos Missios (Η Νύχτα της Λευκής Παπαρούνας-2007) has tackled both fantasy and horror in his two novels. Angeliki Radou, Giorgos Xatzikiriakos and Leta Vasileiou have written children's books that appeal to adults as well.

It is interesting to note that while most of these works take place in Greece, the stories would not look out of place in any Western city. However, there are also writers inspired directly by uniquely Greek themes, history and fables. Efthymia Despotaki, who writes fantasy with a strong Greek flavour (Πνεύματα -Spirits-2016 is her strongest work), and Eleftherios Keramidas, whose best-selling fantasy trilogy (beginning with Κοράκι σε Άλικο Φόντο - Raven on Scarlet Backdrop-2017) is based on the Byzantine era, are such examples. Another writer who also deals with uniquely Greek themes is Xristostomos Tsaprailis, who published Παγανιστικές Δοξασίες (Paganist Doctrines-2017) a collection of folk horror stories with a twist. It is interesting that neither these writers nor any well-known genre works are inspired by the quite celebrated Greek mythology; instead, it is the least known aspects of Greek antiquity and the so called Dark Ages that tend to inform both fantasy and horror.

Two rarer examples are magical realist Zyranna Zateli (At Twilight They Return-2013) and the harder-to-classify Ioanna Mpourazopoulou (What Lot's Wife Saw-2007). Zateli's lyrical work has been translated into French, German, English, Italian etc, while Mpourazopoulou was translated into English and French, resulting in both cases in awards and critical accolades. Their magical realism proved easier to tackle for the literary media, and the two authors are celebrated, unlike the majority of genre writers in Greece. The divide unfortunately ensures that when genre fiction is discussed in Greece, Zateli and Mpourazopoulou are often not a part of the discussion.

There are, of course, many names one could add to the list; as mentioned above, there is currently a cornucopia of new titles available. Unfortunately, this happens in part because of the proliferation of a certain type of self-publishing: in the last years, many small publishing houses were founded in order to offer print on demand services along with a legitimate publishing logo. While this practice did kindle interest in the genre, by giving an actual outlet to authors, it also created for many the very false impression that to be published, one needs to pay for the privilege; furthermore, there are no established criteria for these self-published works.

This is one the reasons that many Greek writers have turned to writing in English instead, where the competition is greater but the field is considered fairer. Natalia Theodoridou, Christine Lucas, Eugenia Triantafyllou, Eleanna Castroioanni, George Kotronis, Vaya Pseftaki and (caution: shameless self-insert) myself, have been published almost exclusively in English language magazines such as Apex, Clarkesworld, Shimmer, Metaphorosis, Colored Lens, Beneath Ceaseless Skies etc., as well as in various anthologies and collections.

Despite these obstacles, it is quite obvious that the speculative fiction scene in Greece is growing and spreading. Two major websites have attracted the attention of fans: nyctophilia.gr, edited by writer and translator Elaine Rigas, focuses on horror and publishes articles and fiction, while willowisps.gr, edited by illustrator Marilena Mexi, focuses on fantasy. Both websites host a generation of writers and critics focused exclusively on the genre. ALEF's magazine Fantastika Chronika (Φανταστικά Χρονικά - Chronicles of the Imagination) continues successfully in print since 2003, while a new magazine, Ble Komitis (Μπλε Κομήτης - Blue Comet), has just been published to some acclaim. ALEF and the gaming company Gamecraft also publish anthologies, always including some of the most interesting voices in the field. Dedicated imprints such as Arpi have also sprung up, showcasing exclusively the work of Greek genre writers. Other relatively newly founded publishing houses include Selini, Ars Nocturna, Medusa and Jemma Press.

Another proof that the scene in Greece is vibrant and growing, is the proliferation of conventions. I have a special place in my heart for ΦantastiCon, which takes place in Athens and focuses mostly but not exclusively on fantasy. Other major cons are Athenscon, Comicdom and Comicon. The latter takes place in Thessaloniki, where the Thermi Society for Friends of Fantasy has also been organizing events for years. The city is also the seat of our own Tales of the Wyrd, which organizes open creative writing seminars and workshops dedicated exclusively to speculative fiction. Recently, the Prancing Pony Tolkien Society set up a new chapter in the same city, which also hosts several events.

The fantastic then is definitely on the rise in Greece; the first vampire series is currently being produced for mainstream TV, while gaming groups, thematic coffee shops and themed bands accompany this rise in popularity. While the highest praise for a writer used to be that their book 'had nothing to be envious of when compared to foreign literature,' this mindset is slowly going away. As a member of the scene, I am finally looking forward to the next con, the next workshop, the next book. Come visit us sometime; we have many stories to tell you.

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Dimitra Nikolaidou is currently completing her PhD on role-playing games and speculative fiction at Aristotle University of Thessaloniki. She is the head of publications at Archetypo Publications, and she is also teaching speculative creative writing at Tales of the Wyrd. Her articles have been published at Cracked.com and Atlas Obscura, while her stories are included in various anthologies and magazines (Metaphorosis, See the Elephant, After the Happily Ever After, Αντίθετο Ημισφαίριο).