by Andrea Hairston
A few weeks ago I
visited the Book Moon in Easthampton, MA, a new
independent bookstore that Kelly Link and Gavin Grant opened this fall. I love
bookstores. I love walking through the words and pictures, feeling a hum of
thoughts and possibilities, glimpsing dreams, nightmares, and maps that might
reconfigure my imagination. Bookstores are magic. An independent, brick-and-mortar
store opening is cause for celebration!
It was a raw
November evening, getting dark way too early. Anger at the state of things—the
climate, the country, my knee, my back, the fool who thinks the arts aren’t
rigorous like engineering—was bubbling in my gut. I felt exhausted from
fighting stupid battles, over and over. Bored, not inspired, by the same old
same old. But as I walked into Book Moon, my spirit lifted. Shelves jammed with
books climbed to the ceiling. Tables were covered with journals and volumes of
who knows what. This was my world, my universe, calling to me, challenging me
to shake off the blues and take my mind on safari.
Gavin Grant was a
welcoming host, guiding me through the shelves and aisles: used books, bright
and cheery and ready for a new home; weighty art books and atlases of other
worlds, glamorous new releases—mysteries, space operas, biographies, and
guides to good living. Gavin was about to recommend a book, but he stopped and
asked, “Do you still read science fiction and fantasy?”
Given that I
write sf & f and have read a lot of it, could it still offer pleasure,
insight, surprise? Did sf & f still feed me? Had I lost the sense of
wonder? Sitting in Maleficent II, I
thought the filmmakers bludgeoned us with special effects. They drained the
magic from their story with over blown spectacle and left nothing for the
theatre of our own minds. Too much empty-calorie spectacle—everywhere, every
day, the STORM OF THE CENTURY pummels us. I have indeed picked up a few sf &
f books, read 20-50 pages, and found thin spectacle plots laid out in the title.
I have cringed at colonial tales, kleptocracy celebrated with artistic flare
and a progressive sheen…the might-makes-right Master Narrative offered up
uncritically, and so I’ve put these book down, but—
“Yes, I still read
science fiction,” I told Gavin.
I bought the book
he suggested—Version Control by
Dexter Palmer, a thoughtful time-travel novel about what it means to be human
in the science fictional universe that we have created and that creates us. The
serendipity of Gavin’s recommendation impressed me. I’m doing research for my
next novel on the social-cultural-techno reality of social media, surveillance
capitalism, and machine learning. Version
Control fit right in with non-fiction books I’ve been reading:
The Cyber Effect by Mary Aiken, a deep
dive beyond utopian idealism and commercialism to understand how human
beings/society have been changed, compromised, or exploited by the digital age.
Race
After Technology by Ruha Benjamin, an eloquent exploration of the
ubiquitous algorithms of oppression that maintain and amplify White supremacy,
kleptocracy, and inequality.
The Age of Surveillance Capitalism—the fight
for a human future at the new frontier of power by Shoshana Zuboff, a
thorough examination of how tech giants like Google, Amazon, and Facebook steal
our data, our “behavioral surplus” and turn it into Big Data, into power and
profits. Like Benjamin’s Race After
Technology, Surveillance Capitalism
is an exposé of Big Data wizards who cast a mind control spell that could be
the demise of our participatory democratic dream.
Ten Arguments For Deleting Your Social Media
Accounts Right Now by Jaron Lanier, and Nudge—Improving
Decisions about Health, Wealth, and Happiness by Richard H. Thaler and Cass
R. Sunstein also deal with invisible coercion and the challenges of maintaining
our humanity in the 21st century.
All these books
explore the mystique of the algorithm, the mythology of absolute objectivity
and infinite choice. The authors analyze and clarify our romance with social
media, Big Data, Big Tech. At the turn of the 21st century, tech
gurus proclaimed we’d soon all be living online—virtual reality would reign
supreme. Of course all reality is virtual, filtered through culturally-tuned biological
senses. Didn’t need digital tech to achieve that. We have no direct, unmediated
contact with “brute” reality. We
see/feel/hear/experience what our cultures allow/expect.
Try to wrap your
tongue (mind) around a language you don’t know, play music with intervals and
rhythms you can’t parse, see colors you can’t name. Try to understand values or
perspectives that are alien. Try imagining trees, fungus, bacteria as
protagonists in their own stories. Read The
Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben, Mama’s Last Hug by Frans de Waal, Gifts of the Crows by John Marzluff and Tony Angell, or Beyond Words by Carl Sarafina.
Reading
about plants and animals as the subjects of their own lives is a revelation. Young
trees feed a mama elder stump and scent the air with warnings so trees down the
road might turn bitter and discourage foragers. Chimpanzees, elephants, crows, and
orcas mourn their dead, plot revenge, rescue the helpless, beam at old friends,
or trumpet, or whistle and soar. Wohlleben, de Waal, Marzluff, and Sarafina
challenge the mindset that plants and animals are merely objects at our
disposal. These books disturb the virtual reality in which we humans are the
exceptional subjects of an otherwise object-universe.
Glamorous, 21st
century digital platforms capitalize on the colonial myths of inevitable and
superior European progress to mystify the colonizing of our planetary
future. Our 21st century techno-wizardry
gives the illusion of choice by manipulating what people want and monopolizing
what they can get; the illusion of objectivity by fronting neutrality; the
illusion of connection and intimacy by activating anxiety, amplifying fear, and
stimulating pleasure centers. Which is to say, our marvelous tech is entangled
in our biological and social realities. Technology is not the good guy or the
bad guy, not the cause or the solution to our dilemmas, but it is a tool of the
powerful to determine whose story we live, whose story we tell, whose story
matters. The powerful may be striving for absolute monopoly, a totalitarian
dream that we agree or acquiesce to. Still they are not all-powerful.
We have access to
these incredible tech tools as well. I had the pleasure of going to a lecture by, Yeshimabeit Milner, the founder of Data For Black Lives,
a group of activists, organizers, and mathematicians committed to abolishing
Big Data. To quote Milner, a data scientist, “Data is power. Big Data is
fascism. To abolish Big data would mean to put data in the hands of the people
who need it the most.”
Try imagining
your enemies as mortal, as sane.
Many people argue
that the tech giants who determine our interface with the digital world are too
big, too powerful to take down and we (poor commoners, marginalized grunts,
mere mortals) are too weak. So we must submit. Let the big guys (mostly guys)
have their way with us and somehow—behind their backs perhaps—we salvage what
we can of ourselves. This is a familiar lament in the long-running Master narrative.
We have to change that story, explode the romance, the mythology. We’re living
in the post-apocalyptic colonial dystopia. We have to be like Harriet Tubman,
believing in freedom and making an underground railroad with our spirits to our
dreams. See the film Harriet and get
fired up.
So yes, I still read
science fiction and fantasy to experience other worlds, other possibilities.
History wasn’t inevitable, neither is the future. Sf & f gets me to do the
journey from self to other, helps me decolonize my mind, helps me imagine the
world I want.
The books that
made me read to the end:
The City in the Middle of the Night by
Charlie Jane Anders—on a faraway planet in a distant future, humans and aliens
bond to save their world from human-created eco-disaster.
The Poppy Wars by R. F. Kuang— a
historical fantasy based on the Second Sino-Japanese War where a young woman
warrior seeks the power of the gods to fight the brutal invaders.
The Bird King by G. Willow Wilson—In
1491, right before Muslim Grenada falls, a concubine and her best friend, a
mapmaker, escape the confines of the sultan’s palace and the threat of the
inquisition in order to find another world.
The World That We Know by Alice Hoffman—in
1941 Lea’s mother and a rabbi’s daughter create Ava, a golem who must protect
Lea as she flees the Nazis.
The City of Brass and The Kingdom of Copper by S. A. Chakraborty—a story-telling
feast about a con artist who calls forth a djinn and finds herself caught up in
the fantastic power struggles, adventures, and romance of the six djinn
tribes.
Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi
Adeyemi—magic, a gift from the gods, has been banished from the world. Those
who once wielded it are oppressed. A young woman and her allies seek to bring
magic back in this novel inspired by Yoruba cosmology.
Do not settle for
the illusion of insignificance. Take your spirit on safari. Go to Book Moon or
Broadside Books or any independent bookstore.
You can visit them online! Find the magic, the heat, the laughter and
challenge. Find the inspiration for a marvelous future!
Hairston is author of Will Do Magic For Small Change, finalist for the Mythopoeic Award, Lambda Award, Tiptree Award, and a
New York Times Editor’s pick. Other novels include: Redwood and Wildfire, a Tiptree and Carl Brandon Award winner, and
Mindscape, winner of Carl Brandon Award. These novels were
published by Aqueduct Press. She has also published essays, plays, and
short fiction and received grants from the NEA, Rockefeller Foundation,
and Ford Foundation. Andrea is a Professor of Theatre
and Africana Studies at Smith. Tor.com will publish Master of Poisons in Sept 2020.
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