Fantastic Metropolis

Jeff VanderMeer: What book has had the most devastating effect on you and why?

Daniel Pearlman: Perhaps Cervantes’ Quixote. I loved it so much in English that, in later years, I read it in Spanish as well. It is in the background of my short novel Black Flames (1997), with regard to the psyche of the main character, and more overtly in my choice of the Spanish Civil War as a major component of the storyline. It is even a more profound influence in my recently completed novel, Weeds in Franco’s Garden (145,000 words), which has yet to find a decent agent. Perhaps it was also Quixote that drove me to live in Spain for three years. I don’t know.

Jeff VanderMeer: What distinguishes first-rate satire and social commentary in fiction from the second-rate?

Daniel Pearlman: First-rate satire, which is rarely seen in our environment of so-called postmodern sensibility (an environment of social and moral relativities), is impossible for a writer without intense, passionate moral convictions—and I’m talking about convictions that have to do with justice as an ideal worthy of pursuing and impossible to disregard. Jonathan Swift had that, a devastating gift of poker-faced irony, and it enabled him to write his “Modest Proposal,” among other great works of satire.

Jeff VanderMeer: How have your studies of Ezra Pound impacted your fiction?

Daniel Pearlman: I’ve been outstandingly influenced by Swift and Cervantes, less consciously so by many other wonderful writers. Ezra Pound, my study of whose Cantos insured my academic reputation, has crept into my writings in little occasional bits, as in the title story of my new collection, but I don’t yet recognize any deeper influence. The angry moralist in him disturbs me. His intemperate mouthings attract innumerable crackpots. For twenty years I have by and large distanced myself from the circle of scholars and critics who write their endless books about him. As a literary innovator, he can rightly be called the father of Modernist poetry, but his influence on prose fiction has been negligible.

Jeff VanderMeer: Do you prefer to work on short stories or novels?

Daniel Pearlman: I love the long short story, the novella, and the novel. Although the novel affords me the greatest field for the deployment of my literary powers, whatever they may be, and although I think my best work is contained in my most recent novel that was three years in the making (WEEDS, mentioned above), I dread having to bring it to market, where I’ve had over the years almost entirely disappointing results. I’ve written five novels, and I’ve published only one—without benefit of agent. And before I was able to find the publisher for that one, I had to experience about ninety rejections. Agents—and I’ve had “good” ones (good for other clients)—have done me little good; wasted years of my time, rather; I’d just wind up sitting on their back burner, stewing. So, despite the temptation to focus on writing novels, the indifference of the publishing world has dampened my enthusiasm to engage much in that genre—at least, for the foreseeable future. The short story and novella, though still difficult for me to market, not only engage my enthusiasm, but an enthusiasm not millstoned by decades of disappointment.

Jeff VanderMeer: What are your observations about the future of books and publishing? And what changes have you seen occur over the last 20 years that you hate and that you love?

Daniel Pearlman: I’ve exposed my gripes about the publishing world in the CLF News, which you yourself helped me found because you had similar concerns about the marginalization of the Literature of the Fantastic. I think we are beginning to win the battle, which seemed nearly hopeless back in 1995, to get the attention of the mainstream press for fantastical works of imagination. I myself have published around half of my “fantastical” fiction in literary journals. I think that what is helping this transition is the realization that there is such a thing, and a very important thing, as Magical Realism written north of the Mexican border. Ironically, it is the genre press that is more close-minded than the mainstream press to the truly “literary” fantastic. I speak mainly here of the major SF/F/H magazines and book publishers. In a way, it is a shame to see the best fantastical work co-opted by the literary press.

The change I most love, of course, is the digital revolution and how it continues to challenge and revolutionize publishing practices. The Internet is creating many more opportunities for wonderful new voices to get heard, and to get heard right away, before they grow old and discouraged. I see print-on-demand as a key player in the subversion of the old system of publishing that has done little for the past thirty years beyond stifle original voices.