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Q &
A |
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1. Your novel seems to draw comparison between "barebacks"
and the members of any other minority group - those of another race,
religion, economic level, or sexual orientation, for example. Did
you write this book with a message in mind?
I didn't start it with a message in mind. To me, the important thing
is the story and the effect it has on the reader while they're reading
it. My aim was just to write about people, and how it feels to be
a person in a particular situation. If you do that with enough sincerity,
hopefully some kind of morality or principle grows out of the story
organically, but I find if you build the story around a message,
it comes out to be clunky and forced, which won't do the message
much of a service. I also wouldn't want to think it was just seen
as a "message" book. If you boil a novel down to a message,
it's usually something fairly straightforward like "prejudice
is bad", which, if you're writing a book about someone who's
discriminated against, ought to be your starting point rather than
your conclusion. You can hardly write a book about a disliked minority
without taking some kind of standpoint on the issue, but I'd rather
think that the book gave people the experience of being in a particular
situation than that it was lecturing them about it.
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2. You never use the word "werewolf" in the book.
Why is that?
There are too many associations with it. It used to mean something
fearful and diabolical; now it mostly means an actor with yak hair
glued to his face. The word is firmly linked with pulpy horror movies,
and while I've had a great deal of fun watching them, it wasn't
the effect I wanted to create. The point about the lycanthropic
people in my book is that they're people rather than monsters; Lola
is used to them, they're part of her life, and if you use a monster-movie
word like "werewolf", you're making them into something
alien. It's the same reason I talk about their "feet"
rather than their "paws" or say "a man" rather
than "a male"; I want rge readers to remain as aware as
she is that this is part of society that we're witnessing. I'm a
big admirer of Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange, which is written
in a made-up slang called "nadsat": the narrator of that
commits some terrible crimes, but he describes them in his own language,
which makes you, if not sympathise with him, at least see things
the way he does.
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3. How did you come to choose a werewolf society as the centrepiece
for your book? Why werewolves over vampires, for instance, when
vampire novels are so popular today?
First, because there's enough vampire stuff out there already. Second,
more importantly, my aim was to write a book about Lola and the
world she lives in, rather than to write a book about supernatural
beasties, and if it had been about vampires, it wouldn't have worked.
The vampire has a massive tradition, but I didn't feel I could write
much of a story about it myself - it just didn't catch my imagination
in the same way. There are some vampire books I've enjoyed, but
overall I'm not that interested in them.
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4. Is your DORLA (Department for the Ongoing Regulation of Lycanthropic
Activities) a metaphor for the witch-hunters of earlier times?
No. It's posited as a descendant of them, but the Inquisition is
a long way in the past. It's passed into the position where we use
it as a metaphor, rather than use metaphors for it. The "Satanic
Panic" in 1980s America, for example, got compared to the witch-hunts
- accurately, as far as I can tell from my research. There's a terrible
tendency in people to decide that this or that group is the enemy,
then believe all sorts of evils about then that they'd never consider
if they actually knew the people they're so frightened of, and it's
something we'll never get too civilised to fall prey to. The medieval
witch-hunts are over, the time for making metaphors for them is
gone. What we need to do is look back into the past, see how horrifically
wrong the witch-hunters were, and then remind ourselves that the
people in that era considered themselves just as modern and clever
as we do - and then take a close look at what we're doing.
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5. Do you consider Bareback
to be a horror novel, or a dark fantasy novel?
Neither, really. Describing a book as this or that genre is mostly
useful for booksellers: they've got a fixed amount of time to convince
bookshops to buy copies of each title on their list, and if they can
say, "This is that kind of book and it'll go on those shelves
over there", it makes things easier. What it doesn't do is make
things better for either readers or writers. A reader who says "I
don't read chick fic" or "I only like science fiction"
is missing out on some books they might love if they saw them in another
cover on a different shelf; a writer who says, "I'd love to throw
in a supernatural twist, but I can't because I'm supposed to be a
thriller writer" is stopping themselves from using all of their
imagination. If I had to give Bareback a label, I'd probably
call it magic realism, but I'd rather just skip the whole issue and
call it a Kit Whitfield book. |
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6. There is apparently a mental illness known as lycanthropy.
What is that?
Basically, the delusion that you really do turn into an animal.
People have recurrent fits where they're convinced that they are
no longer a human being, but have transformed into a wolf, tiger,
or whatever. It's seen as a psychotic illness nowadays rather than
a capital offence, fortunately. There are a number of medical conditions
some people think may have to do with the werewolf myth; porphyria
is another one, because it can produce an allergy to sunlight, afflictions
of the skin, hair growth on the face, reddish teeth and fingernails,
and other symptoms that in really severe cases can make the sufferer
look not unlike a movie werewolf - though that doesn't necessarily
mean that the legend originated from porphyria; I suspect it's more
likely that the symptoms of porphyria can remind some people of
the legend.
It's interesting to note that nowadays there's also a subculture
of people who identify themselves as "therianthropes"
and claim some kind of spiritual connection with animal-human transformations.
I don't really know enough about that to comment; I gather there's
debate about whether there's a connection with clinical lycanthropy
or whether they're separate issues, but you'd need to be either
a psychiatrist or a member of the subculture yourself to have anything
like an informed opinion, and I'm neither. Legally, as least, as
long as "therians" aren't attacking anybody, it's their
own business. Which is a definite step forward from Inquisitorial
thinking, I'd say, because they would have been in deep trouble
with the witch-burners, but let's not kid ourselves that we're too
advanced. Our grandchildren will only laugh at us later.
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