The Lucky Strike

possible.

On thing happening is that the Republican Party in the USA has decided to fight the idea of climate change (polls and studies show the shift over the first decade of this century, in terms of the leadership turning against it and the rank and file following) which is like the Catholic Church denying the Earth went around the sun in Galileo’s time; a big mistake they are going to crawl away from later and pretend never happened. And here the damage could be worse, because we need to act now.

What’s been set up and is playing out now is a Huge World Historical Battle between science and capitalism. Science is insisting more emphatically every day that this is a real and present danger. Capitalism is saying it isn’t, because if it were true it would mean more government control of economies, more social justice (as a climate stabilization technique) and so on. These are the two big players in our civilization, so I say, be aware, watch the heavyweights go at it, and back science every chance you get. I speak to all fellow leftists around the world: science is now a leftism, and thank God; but capitalism is very very strong. So it’s a dangerous moment. People who like their history dramatic and non-utopian should be pleased.

Have you done any audio books? What about film or TV?

I haven’t read for my audio books, but several of my books are on audio books. No film or TV, though the AMC channel is in the early stages of developing Red Mars as a TV series. That would be nice but it’s a long way from happening right now.

Where does Short Sharp Shock fit into your canon? Is it fantasy?

I think of it as my version of fantasy, what I think fantasy ought to be: strange, new imagery, a possible science fiction explanation (science fantasy is that subgenre of science fiction set so far in the future that it looks like fantasy, done well by Vance and Wolfe). My vision of fantasy does not seem to have been picked up on, but what can you do.

I wrote it when our first kid was born and I was not sleeping much nor writing much. I decided I would write no matter what, and it might be best to try a dream narrative. It was right before Red Mars, and I knew I would be spending years on a very rational, historical project, so I thought it might be good to discharge some craziness in the system before I embarked on that. I very much enjoyed working on Short Sharp Shock and I appreciate my publisher Bantam keeping it in print.

You wrote a wonderful book about Everest, Escape from Kathmandu. Was any of that based on personal experience? Was your prediction about Mallory and Irvine based on secret info just luck?

Yes, a lot of it was based on the trek my wife and I took in Nepal in 1985. We ran into Jimmy Carter, laughed hard every day, enjoyed our Sherpa handlers, who took care of us like pets, and loved the country and the mountains. I’d like to go back and write a book called Return to Kathmandu, using George and Freds again. There have been so many changes in the twenty-three years since, but I bet much is the same too. I got some calls right, about the revolutionary forces, and also about the Mallory find on the north side of Everest. That was just luck, but I could see how it would be possible.

How would you describe your politics? What was your relationship to the anti-war movement and the political currents of the 60s? Were you an activist? Are you today?

I call myself an American leftist and try to point to all the left activities in American history as a tradition of resistance, activism and successes. Indeed today I read in the paper about the election of a leftist president in El Salvador, and the chant was “The left—united—will never be defeated.” Very nice thought, especially since the divisions in and among the leftisms have been such a problem. Those are so often what Freud called “the narcissism of small differences” and that is an important concept everyone should study….

I was at UCSD during the anti-war movement, or I should say, after 1970. In the 1960s I was in Orange County in high school and it might as well have been 1953, except for the news of distant places. At UCSD things were more up-to-date, and I transitioned into anti-war sentiments as part of my group cohort feeling, and my draft number (89). I saw Marcuse and Angela Davis speak at a rally at the gym, and gathered on campus a couple times, but I was a follower. By the time I had ideas of my own the war was over.

I am only an activist today in the local politics of my town, Davis, California, where I am trying to fight a real estate development proposed by the university. It’s pretty draining and uphill work. I think of my writing as an activism, and we give financial support to a lot of activist causes.

You were a student of the famed post-modernist Fredric Jameson. How has he influenced your work?

Famous Marxist Fredric Jameson, you mean. What he managed was to rearrange everyone’s definition of postmodernism from a fashion or a style, to a period in the history of capital and the world. So that was quite an accomplishment. And his persistence over the years has given a kind of lens for leftists and everyone else to understand modern history in Marxist terms. So, that has been a major influence on everyone, I think, even if for most people it is indirect.

For me it was direct. Fred is very educational in person, a great teacher, and after our time together at UCSD I kept reading him, and by reading all his work gave myself a good ground for understanding world history and our moment today. That’s a great thing for a novelist to have. I’ve stayed in touch too and he is a good person to know, perpetually interesting.

I understand that you live in a utopian community. How does that work? Is it pre or post modern?

A little of both I guess. The model is an English village really; about eighty acres, a lot of it owned in common, so there is a “commons” and no fences except around little courtyards. There are a lot of vegetable gardens, and the landscaping is edible, meaning lots of fruits, grapes and nuts.

It’s really just a tweaking of suburban design, but a really good one. Energy mattered to the designers and we burn about 40 percent the energy of an ordinary suburban neighborhood of the same size. That’s still a lot, but it’s an improvement. If every suburb since this one was built (1980 or so) would have followed its lead, we would have much less craziness in America; because the standard suburb is bad for sanity. But that didn’t happen, so for the 1,000 people who live here it’s a kind of pocket utopia. Not the solution, but a nice place to live right now, and it could suggest aspects of a longterm solution. It’s been a real blessing to live here.

You gave one of the Google talks. Was that cool or what? What did you tell them?

It was a lot of fun. The Google people were great, and their free cafeteria is out of this world. They put the talk online so you can find it on YouTube. It was my first Power Point talk ever, so that was a bit clunky, but fun. It was configured as a talk to the Googlers, telling Google what it could do to fight climate change and enact utopia. I’m not sure the folks at Google.org (their charitable/activist foundation) were listening, but it was worth a try, and basically a way to frame my usual talk about what we all should do. Mostly I say, go outdoors and sit and talk to a friend: this is our primate utopia and very easy on the planet.

Your latest work, yet to be published, is about Galileo. Or about the relationship between science and politics. Or is it ambition and religion? Or work and age?

A bit of all those things, but mostly I was thinking science and history; what science is, how it has affected history, how it could in the future. And also about Galileo’s actual work, which is ever so interesting. He was a great character.

What’s you favorite city?

San Francisco is my favorite city, but I also like New York, London, Edinburgh, Paris, Venice, Sydney, Vancouver, and Kathmandu.

You broke into print the “usual” (old) way for SF writers—through short stories. Do you plan to go back to short fiction? What do you think of today’s dwindling story “market?”

I don’t rule out going back to short fiction, but I like novels better and that’s what I’m focused on; that may never stop. I think it’s too bad about the dwindling market and wonder if reading habits are changing with the Internet. In a way shorter fiction should possibly benefit by the quickness of web life, but I don’t know. I’m enough outside it not to be thinking about it too much.

SF used to have an agenda—the future, and in particular, space travel. Does it have an agenda today?

I don’t know! I think it has to have the agenda of the future. But when the future doesn’t include space travel