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 This interview has been read 
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            Note: cYbErDaRk.NeT is a Spanish virtual community 
              of scifi, fantasy and horror readers. Almost all the content is 
              in Spanish. 
               by Ignacio Illarregui 
                 translated by María Jesús 
              Sánchez 
               Along the 90`s, it had emerged a new generation of writers as
	Paul McAuley, Ken McLeod or the last one, China Mieville, who has created a very
	particular way of understanding cf. Far from innovate and bring us new clichés, they
	have used their early readings to build the basement of their narratives. Of course,
	we couldn´t find that innovative, but they have a rich and baroque esthetic of their
	own, where we could discover very interesting topics and influences. 
	
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	Richard Calder  | 
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               One of these new authors is Richard Calder. He was living in
	southeastern Asia for almost a decade, and this distance from the cf utterances, its
	trends and movements, let him create a very personal style, based in a sort of
	intensely alienated characters that survive difficultly in a exhuberant world. The
	first title translated into Spanish, Malignos, a sword-and-sorcery story,
	offers more than is accustomed in this kind of books. Soon, we`ll have another novel
	in our bookshops, Dead Girls, a very surrealistic love story, really
	trasgressive. 
               I would like to thank Richard Calder for his kindness
	conceeding these interview, and the time he dedicated to answer our questions. I hope
	it could discover you these author, and push you to read him. Sure you`ll enjoy it. 
            Ignacio Illarregui       
               Malignos describes an exotic and perilous journey
	from the surface to the center of the earth. What was your inspiration? 
               My novels have often grown out of an opening sentence, the
	story gradually cohering about the tone of the first-person narrator's voice. (Once I
	have a voice established in my head, a storyline seems to unfold of its own accord.)
	In Malignos I feel I tapped into a deep archetype. Richard Pike, the hero
	of Malignos, is, of course, something of a Campbellian hero, and his story is
	the oldest story in the world: that of a man who, like Dante's middle-aged protagonist,
	finds himself lost in the dark woods of life and cannot find his way home. Pike
	embarks on a journey that involves the classic, mythical descent into the underworld.
	There, the hero is tested, has strange adventures, discovers some important truth that
	transforms him, and then returns to the upper world to share his knowledge with others,
	and, of course, comes home. Malignos is but one more telling of this old, old
	tale. 
	
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               Malignos was also more obviously inspired by Jules
	Verne's Journey to the Centre of the Earth. Pike enters the underworld by way
	of a volcano in the Philippines, which parallels the manner in which Verne's characters
	descend into the earth through the mouth of an Icelandic volcano. The landscape of the
	Philippines (I was living in the Philippines when I wrote Malignos), and various
	Filipino friends and acquaintances, were also a crucial influence. 
               Richard Pike, the main character, constantly feels like a
	stranger in strangerland. Foreigner in the Darkling Isle, foreigner in the
	Philippines... Have you ever felt like him? 
               Most certainly. Alienation is a key theme in all my novels,
	and it's something, I suppose, that first drew me to the Far East: to find an alien
	land where an alienated individual might feel at home. Once you have lived abroad for
	several years - over a decade, in my case - it becomes difficult to readjust to life
	in your native country. There's an abiding sense that you're an outsider, and will
	always remain so. 
               He is a singular character. Ruthless, coward, selfish,...
	values very dificult to find in a protagonist of a science fiction story. Why did you
	make him that way? 
               I'm interested in creating characters that are neither good
	nor bad but simply interesting, but I often think that the Devil really does
	have all the best tunes. It's quite true that Pike isn't cut from the usual heroic
	cloth - but I like to think of him as a more complex being than the average
	sword-and-sorcery protagonist, and as such (I hope) more engaging. If he is something
	of a 'Flashman', his voyage underground is an inner journey as much as an outer one: he
	discovers that he is not the man he thought he was. In other words, his arrogance,
	vanity, conceit and snobbishness are, at last, undermined by a revelation that he has
	it in his power to become something else - a man worthy of the love of his
	malignos woman, Gala. 
               What similarities exist between Malignos and the
	rest of your narratives? 
               My fiction often employs first-person devices that lend
	the narratives a certain 'tone', the disaffected 'voice' of the narrator being central
	to the novel's effect, and the narrator of Malignos is no exception. Like
	Ignatz Zwakh, the narrator of Dead Girls, Richard Pike is an outlaw who looks
	upon life with an outlaw's perspective, and this is reflected in his wry, sardonic,
	acidly witty manner of speech. And like Ignatz Zwakh, he has entered into an illegal
	liaison with an inhuman woman - the concept of 'forbidden love' another theme central
	to my work. 
	
               Last year it appeared a sequel of Malignos:
	Lord Soho. What is the relation between them? 
               Lord Soho is the story of Richard Pike and Gala's
	descendants, a generational saga spanning centuries and continents. The novel focuses
	on a dying earth and a series of cursed, human narrators who have malignos
	blood in their veins. 
               Why did you define the book as a Time Opera? 
               The book is composed of a number of inter-related novelettes,
	each one of which focuses on a different 'Richard Pike' and his contribution to the
	history of his time - and this accounts for the 'time' element. It is called a time
	'opera' because each novelette is literally based on an opera, the sequence of
	novelettes paralleling the worlds evoked by The Beggar's Opera,
	The Marriage of Figaro, La Traviata, Patience, Turandot,
	and Harrison Birtwistle's Punch and Judy. 
               This year, Gigamesh is going to publish Dead Girls.
	Can you tell us something about this book? What will we find in it? 
	
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               Dead Girls is set partly in a near-future,
	sea-inundated London, and partly in Thailand. It has something of a 'Bonnie and Clyde'
	theme in that it is about two young lovers on the run from the law - the lovers being
	very young, and the law being the mad, gynocidal law of a neo-fascist England
	represented by a ruling party that calls itself 'The Human Front'. The 'dead girls'
	are young women infected with a malignant nanotech virus that causes human females to
	metamorphose into vampiric, porcelain-like dolls at puberty. (The search for the
	origins of this 'doll-plague' constitutes much of the book's plot). Dead Girls
	is a novel of high-octane, sometimes surrealistic, escapades set against a tropical
	nightmare world of high-tech bedazzlement, but at its heart it's a love story between
	the enraptured narrator and 'doll-addict', Ignatz Zwakh, and his robotic, magical
	girlfriend, Primavera Bobinski. 
               Didn´t you take a lot of risk starting your career with
	a "trilogy"? 
               It didn't start off as a trilogy. After completing
	Dead Girls I simply couldn't get the narrator's voice out of my head, and knew
	that he had more to say to me - and so I continued the narrative into Dead Boys
	and, eventually, Dead Things. The risk, I believe, was not so much in starting
	my career with a trilogy, but with a series of novels that are sexually transgressive,
	verbally and formally pyrotechnic, and (for an SF readership, at least) experimental. 
               In your recent visit to Gijon, you affirmed Angela Carter
	is one of your more important influences. Why do you find her narratives so
	interesting? 
               When I first read Angela Carter, at about the age of
	twenty-eight, she was a revelation. I was writing verse, almost exclusively, before
	that time, and she demonstrated, to me, a way forward: how to write a rich, poetic
	prose capable of dealing with exactly the same kind of themes that I was interested in:
	the dark side of Romanticism, Symbolism, the Decadent movement, the Gothic, and a
	unsparing focus on sexual issues. I also loved her use of the picaresque - the kind of
	narrative structure I use in, say, Malignos. 
               What other authors inspired you? Why do you appreciate
	them? 
               In my mid teens I was heavily influenced by Michael Moorcock
	and Mervyn Peake, and also by French Symbolism - in particular, Baudelaire. For me,
	Baudelaire's oeuvre seemed to conflate with the work of bands such as
	The Velvet Underground. Proust was a later influence. Joyce and Burgess, too.
	I've always appreciated, and been influenced by, authors who use language in an
	interesting way, and who explore the theme of the 'outsider'. I could mention so many
	others: Burroughs, Ballard, Genet, H.P. Lovecraft, Poe. And of course, with poetry
	being so important to me, particularly in my early life, I'd have to mention Alexander
	Pope, the English Romantics, Tennyson, Browning and Rossetti, as well as the great
	Modernist poets - I love Ezra Pound's translations, for instance. 
               Why do you use fantastic elements in your stories? 
	
               Because my literary focus is the exploration of fantasy, or
	rather, of man as the animal that fantasises - the 'fantastic' animal, if you like.
	This puts me squarely in the tradition of Surrealism, though like most contemporary
	writers, I eschew classic Surrealist techniques. One of my heroes is Freud, the
	seminal writer of the last one hundred years, who demonstrated that fantasy - the
	life of dream and confabulation - is at the very heart of human life. So I'm interested,
	not merely in my own fantasies, but in how human beings in general fantasise, and how
	fantasy is a key factor in modern society. To lift fantasy - especially human fantasy
	in its darker aspects - into the realm of metaphor, and redeem it from literalization
	as societal hysteria, panic, witch-hunts, and paranoia, should, I think, be every
	fantasy writer's objective. 
               What do you think about science fiction today? 
               British science fiction, today, mostly comprises space opera.
	And however well-written space opera might be, it seems an odd, not to say
	retrogressive, state of affairs, that so many writers - many of them very
	skilled - find themselves mining such a relatively exhausted vein. For me, there's a
	sense that the traditional themes of science fiction have been played out, and that
	publishers - who are not much into risk taking these days - are intent on endlessly
	recycling the past, in much the same way that contemporary popular music samples and
	recycles the popular music of previous decades without doing anything genuinely
	different to reinvigorate or transform it. In short, there's a dearth of originality,
	a surfeit of 'product', and a disinclination to make the big imaginative gesture. 
	
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	Round table, left to right: Andrzej
	Sapkowski, 
	José María Faraldo, Tim Powers and Richard Calder 
	in "La Semana Negra", 2003  | 
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               Do you usually read it? 
               I read SF/fantasy in fits and starts - I'll pick up a
	handful of books, some contemporary, some, perhaps, out of print, and read them. But
	these days it's becoming increasingly rare. I'm interested in SF/fantasy when it
	starts to become something else, or is used in such a way that it becomes incorporated
	in an extra-generic literary structure. I was very interested in the New Wave
	and Cyberpunk, but not much recent writing has truly excited me. 
               Do you want to say anything to the Spanish readers? What
	can they expect from Malignos or Dead Girls? 
               I'm very glad to be published in Spain. There seems, from what
	I can gather, to be something of a resurgence of interest in SF and fantasy in Spain,
	and I greatly enjoyed SEMANA NEGRA in Gijon and the enthusiasm of Spanish fans. What
	may they expect from Malignos and Dead Girls? Well, I hope they encounter
	worlds that are firmly set in science fiction and fantasy territory, but which are also
	markedly different. I hope they encounter a fictional universe not quite like anything
	they have come across before... 
                
        
               If you want more information about Richard Calder, you`ll get
	it in his web:
	http://www.richardcalder.net/ 
               As well, you can get it at the Gigamesh web, his publisher
	in Spanish:
	http://www.gigamesh.com/libros.html 
               Here, in our data base at Cyberdark, there is 
              a link to his books that has been published in Spanish: http://www.cyberdark.net/autores.php3?cod=1065 
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