Interfictions

An Anthology of Interstitial Writing

Interstitial Arts Foundation (2007)
ISBN-13 978-I-931520-24-9
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US$18
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Reviewed by Tansy Rayner Roberts, May 2007

“Interstitial” (meaning: the space in between) is one of those descriptors that has been floating around lately in those internet discussions about what is, and what is not genre. The term seems a little more academic than “slipstream” and far less limiting than “magical realism” or even “speculative fiction.” Personally, I’ve most commonly come across the term when genre writers are trying to explain why what they write is not genre - or, at least, is different to the “usual” products of genre. However interstitial the stories in Interfictions may be, it is clear that this anthology is a work owing more to genre fiction than anything else. Interfictions is an anthology concerned with the spaces between genres, and the spaces between genre and something else.

Interstitiality within genre is a subject that comes up so frequently (particularly in discussions of award elegibility) that I was surprised to see the authors describe this in their afterword as the first anthology of interstitial writings. I think perhaps this is an overstatement - it might be the first anthology which says it is interstitial, but I’m still not much wiser as to the difference between interstitial fiction and slipstream or magic realism, of which there have been many anthologies.

In his introduction to Interfictions: an anthology of interstitial writing, Heinz Insu Fenkl outlines the relationship between interstitial literature and genre, in an attempt to present the theme of this anthology. Personally, I think Interfictions would stand better without this introduction, which I found confusing and not overly helpful as to the aims of the book. The afterword by the editors is far more succinct and useful in this regard.

Interfictions contains stories by some of the most interesting writers in and out of the speculative writing scene, as well as some intriguing new names. Most of them have some kind of background in speculative writing and/or academia. More notably, they represent between them a far wider range of cultures that you usually see in US-published speculative fiction anthologies - taking in Argentinian, Hungarian, Vietnamese, French, African, Australian, British and Canadian as well as American authors. Considering that the speculative genres have such potential for variety, often sadly unrealised, it is nice to see such a diverse collection of authorial voices. For those who eye gender representation in Tables of Contents, this is one of those rare anthologies where the female authors outnumber the men.

After the rather dry (and somewhat confusing) introduction, Interfictions continues its rather slow start with “What we know about the Lost Families of —– House”, by Christopher Barzak. This story is beautifully written, but I felt too distanced from it to really connect to the story. I suppose there is something very clever about a haunted house story told in a dry, academic style of reporting rather than the usual schlock horror, but it didn’t do it for me – though I would happily gaze at many of the polished and evocative sentences for hours on end.

“Post Hoc” by Leslie What is in contrast a very dynamic story, as I would have expected from the author of the extraordinary, unclassifiable novel Olympic Games. What doesn’t write nearly enough short fiction in my opinion, and it’s always a pleasure to discover a new piece from her. “Post Hoc”, luckily, does not disappoint. It’s a story about the fine line between “anguished ex-lover” and “scary stalker”, and quite accurately conveys the intense insanity many women experience when pregnant. It also presents a very romantic, attractive version of the US Postal Service, as a fairyland that troubled people can escape to in times of need.

It’s hardly a surprise to see Anna Tambour in this anthology, as almost everything she writes could easily be classified as interstitial. “The Shoe in SHOES’ Window”, is another nicely written froth of a story, more narrative-driven than much of Tambour’s fiction. It suffers a little for its placement in the anthology, as it utilises a sing-song storytelling style a little too similar to that of the What story, and also tells a “real world” type story as if it were something of a fairy tale. There’s some lovely imagery here, though, with as romantic a view of shoe selling (and window dressing) as the previous story provided of the postal service.

“Pallas at Noon”, by Joy Marchand is a lovely, lyrical story that appears to owe much to the long tradition of domestic women’s science fiction - the “housewife heroine” story, though there are no aliens or apocalyptic scenarios here, just a woman struggling to deal with the life her husband has built for her, at the expense of her own creativity.

I have mixed feelings about “Willow Pattern”, by Jon Singer. At first glance, it’s a few pages of pretty prose that just doesn’t go anywhere. Art, perhaps, but not entertainment. The author’s note puts this into context - the author has AD[H]D and can only write in this manner - very short stories, non traditional, non linear narratives. Which makes the story make a little more sense, but doesn’t necessarily make it work any better for me. It does, however, make the space around the story a little more interesting, which, I suppose, is the point.

“Black Feather”, by K. Tempest Bradford (and have you ever heard such a beautiful author's name?) is a fascinating story about ravens, fairy tales, dreams, and modern/rural America. Normally I roll my eyes at extended dream sequences in stories, but the clever narrative of this particular tale dips you in and out of “dream” and “real life” like an elegant dance. It incorporates elements of various fairy tales and particularly hints at and around various versions of “The Seven Swans”, but is grounded very much in a realistic world, with a troubled, compelling central character.

“A Drop of Raspberry”, by Csilla Kleinheincz, translated from the Hungarian, is a lovely, only-occasionally stilted story of a romance between a heartbroken man, and the lake in which he tries to kill himself. The story is told in the voice of the lake, a bittersweet character who can play at being human but is undeniably alien. She is one of the best non-human characterisations I have read in a very long time.

“The Utter Proximity of God” by Michael K DeLuca is a story which reminded me strongly of the works of Graham Greene, Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Italo Calvino - that is to say, perfectly beautiful prose about characters I don’t care about, doing little of interest. I simply couldn’t access or enjoy this story at all, though I recognise the skill and craft behind it.

“Alternate Anxieties”, by Karen Jordan Allen is a marvellous, touching example of experimental writings gone right. The protagonist is a woman who has spent her life overwhelmed by anxieties, of which the most recent is an obsessive worry about the different parallel universes that blossom around her with every decision (or non-decision). The key to the story is about how someone which such extreme anxieties copes when an actual personal catastrophe occurs, as opposed to the millions of imagined catatrophes. “Alternate Anxieties” is written in a stop-and-start method, in snippets of biography and diary-style entries, surrounded by notes and quotes that make the whole thing feel like a rough draft of an essay. It worked completely for me, however, as there was a strong (if chaotic) emotional narrative that came clearly through the apparently-haphazard text. Indeed, I was left with the impression that the odd format was chosen by the protagonist, in order to distance herself from her emotions. The depth and clarity of this piece reminded me of Ben Peek’s recent faux-autobiography 26 Lies/1 Truth, though the individual styles of the two authors are worlds apart.

“Burning Beard: the Dreams and Visions of Joseph ben Jacob, Lord Viceroy of Egypt”, by Rachel Pollack, is a story I was never going to like. I have a lifetime of cultural baggage that means Bible stories leave me completely cold. However, I really enjoyed the language and characterisation in this story, and in particular the dialogue that made the characters feel entirely real, and accessible.

On the other hand, “Rats”, by Veronica Schanoes, was going to have to work pretty hard for me not to like it, as fairy tale imagery and themes resonate very strongly with me. It begins gently enough, with a soft-voiced narrator and amusing comic style, and descends rapidly into a blistering mind-fuck of a modern fairy tale that has no peace, no comfort, and sure-as-hell no happy ending. It’s a violent, ugly, beautiful story that made me shudder and hold my baby girl just a little bit closer. Not one for night-time reading.

“Climbing Redemption Mountain”, by Mikal Trimm was another story where the religious language and themes rendered it inaccessible to me. The author’s note suggests that he was doing something clever and original with the source material, but I just didn’t see it. I certainly didn’t come out of the story with any clear idea of what it was trying to do.

“Timothy”, by Colin Greenland was utterly refreshing after the mostly serious stories in this collection - a sexy, funny romp about a woman who calls her cat in from the garden and finds instead a man claiming to be her pet. This one was kind of delicious.

“Hunger”, by Vandana Singh is another beautifully written, sensually evocative story - by this point in the anthology, I was actually taking it for granted that it would be. I liked the powerful use of Indian culture, and many of the characters were quite likable, though I never really got a sense of what the story was for. It didn’t quite get off the ground for me.

The same can be said for Matthew Cheney’s “A Map of the Everywhere” and Léa Silhol’s “Emblemata” - elegant prose, thoughtful characters, enjoyable cultural detail, but little in the way of narrative drive. “When it Rains, You’d Better Get Out of Ulga”, by Adriàn Ferrero is a sweet if brief story which again has the classic Interfictions features of prose, character, culture. Perhaps because of its short length, this one suffers less from the lack of narrative drive.

“Queen of the Butterfly Kingdom”, by Holly Phillips, was another breath of fresh air after such a procession of pretty but forgettable works: Phillips’ story has a strong, believable voice to it, and more of a contemporary flavour than any of the stories since “Timothy”. “Queen of the Butterfly Kingdom” felt like one of the more overt attempts to engage with the interstitial theme of the anthology, being about a writer, and the process of writing fantasy. It is a heady, enticing modern fairy tale, very much the light and air equivalent of the dark and bloody “Rats”, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

“A Dirge for Prester John”, by Catherynne M Valente, the final piece in the anthology, is a chaotic, colourful haze of a story which never quite made sense to me, though I very much wanted it to. The images and words are so very pretty, though, that I didn’t even mind the heavy religious content, and I came away thinking of tropical colours and smells.

The substantial interview-style afterword by Goss and Sherman provides a far more coherent dialogue about interstitiality and the aims of the anthology than did the introduction. I can see why it was placed last, however, as the editors take the opportunity to discuss some of the anthology’s stories in relation to the theme, and this is far more suited to a reader who has already read said stories. It’s certainly illuminating, , and I wish that more anthologists were as relaxed in discussing the selection process and intentions of their text.

Overall, a common thread throughout many of the stories within Interfictions is a historical approach to stories - though not necessarily our history, or any history of this world. Another common thread is the presentation of the “real world” as if it were a magical world, without any specific genre markers to do so. The highlights for me were the stories by Marchand, Allen, Greenland, Black and particularly those by What and Schanoes.

As a regular reviewer of regional small press, I often find myself deliberating between “good”, “bad” and “indifferent” stories in terms of quality and authorial skill - that is, between stories I think ought to have been published, and those not. Even in professional, international anthologies, it is rare to find a collection of stories so uniformly excellent in their execution. The prose throughout Interfictions is faultless, leaving me to judge the stories on personal reaction alone: those which I love, those which I like, and those which I simply do not get. I regularly found myself lost, distanced or generally alienated by the stories in Interfictions, but I was always impressed with the quality of the prose, and never felt that this book was wasting my time. The stories that I loved provided me with a sublime reading experience, and I will be listening out with great interest to hear which stories are praised by other readers and critics.

So far, for me, this is most definitely the anthology of the year.