Volume 4, Issue 6 – December, 2001

Robert S. Stone: The Road Past Sunset

Unlike most young writers, the 20-year-old Robert S. Stone didn’t want to write about himself. So Stone created a disaffected, middle-aged businessman a universe away from the academic world of cultural studies and comparative literature Stone inhabited. Fast forward 15 years or so, and what happens? Readers of Stone’s first published novel, Hazard’s Price, wonder if there might just be more than a little resemblance between the thirty-something owner of a marketing consulting firm and his central character, industrialist Brandt Karrelian.

Biographical coincidence, Stone insists. Besides, over the course of the next four books in The Chronicles of the Unbinding, Brandt Karrelian will travel hundreds of miles before he finds his journey’s end — an end Stone already knows. But it’s too soon to define Stone’s own literary road, through the on-ramps seem to have a mind of their own.

Crescent Blues: Could you tell our readers how you came up with the unusual steampunk/fantasy mix that characterizes the Chronicles of the Unbinding?

Robert S. Stone: A very interesting question. It goes back to a very different question: how I chose the main character [Brandt Karrelian/Galantine Hazard]. The genesis for this entire project goes back a long, long time ago, to when I was about 20 years old. After reading my umpteenth Bildungsroman-style teenage protagonist uncovers his secret destiny that has been foretold in the stars and grows into typical epic hero, I was interested in writing something very different. I wanted to write about a character who resembled myself not at all: a middle-aged, going soft around the edges, very well-off person who’s jaded, becoming ossified and needs to break out of the strictures that have begun to encapsulate him.

Interestingly, I began to resemble this character very much, biographically, by the time the book hit print, and everybody can now assume, oh, he’s just writing about himself. He knows this character inside out. But the character actually came from the time when I was 20, and he was very much different than myself.

Another thing that kept coming up in the process was one of those interesting “What then?” questions. Whenever the epic fantasy ends, and everybody rides off happily into their sunset, what the hell do these people actually do with themselves? Do they become gentlemen farmers? Is that what they’re doing? So I chased that thought around a little bit.

I’ve always been a little bit more of a fan of urban environments, which you see a little bit less of in fantasy. I think the American fantasy novel has picked up where the 19th century American pastoral novel left off, and the pastoral is now a dead form. In a lot of ways, I would say, fantasy has replaced that…which is somewhat off-subject.

But given my first set of parameters, what does a rich, somewhat bored person in a very urban environment find himself doing? That led me to the idea of an industrial magnate. You don’t find a lot of those in fantasy.

No. You see industrial technology given a science fiction spin in the old TV series and movie The Wild Wild West and, recently, in The Secret Adventures of Jules Verne, but you don’t see it too often in fantasy novels. That’s what intrigued me about the Chronicles.

Very often in fantasy we appropriate a kind of easy medieval milieu, where everybody’s cheerful and swinging their broadswords and not necessarily picking up a whole lot about what the actual state of technological development.

Gunpowder was used, repeatedly, as an armament in China by the year 1000 or so, and it started coming along the Silk Road shortly after that. There were all of these rather logical, technological developments that happened congruently in medieval societies starting to verge on the Renaissance. So I thought it might be interesting to try to take a look at a culture where technology and magic are rubbing up against each other with a little more friction than we typically find.

The closest fantasy analogy I can find is the anthology Liavek: The Players of Luck, edited by Will Shetterly and Emma Bull in the mid-1980s. But you’re coming from a different tradition. Before the tape started, you mentioned someone by the name of Charles Brockden Brown.

I would posit Charles Brockden Brown as the great-granddaddy of American fantasy and horror. He was probably the first person we can recognize who tried to be a professional writer in the United States. That is to say, he abandoned a career as a lawyer and tried to support himself writing. This is in the 1790s. He pretty much drove himself mad and died a failure. [Laughs.] Nevertheless, he was the writer of some well-received, rather popular novels of the time and a clear precursor to people like Edgar Allen Poe and Nathaniel Hawthorne, who were drawing on his tradition.

The novels are completely forgotten now. Very bizarre, very interesting work. Wieland and Edgar Huntly are among his better books.

Since they are off the beaten track, would you mind giving our readers an idea of what Wieland and Edgar Huntly are about?

They’re very much like Poe’s tales of the supernatural, where odd things are happening. Gothic horror is where it would be situated in the canon. What’s interesting about it is that Brown’s writing is situated very clearly in America, which was the first time an American writer did that. There were aspects of the American landscape and Native American culture that filtered into what Brown wrote that really give it a distinctively American feel.

Brown’s work also participated in this kind of discourse with American physiognomists like Thomas Jefferson and J. Hector St. John de Crevecoeur, who were positing that American virtue was actually instilled in the land. By virtue of being Americans on this pure soil — that whole “City on the Hill” thing — we imbibed that virtue naturally, and as a result, we were going to be this prosperous, virtuous people in this wonderful Puritan world. And here is Charles Brockden Brown saying, no, no, no. That’s not exactly the case. This is a scary land, and if you’re going to imbibe the character of the land, you’re going to have some people going crazy and people dying in some very strange ways.

OK, this is where the interviewer shows her ignorance. Could you, please, give a thumbnail bio of Crevecoeur and explain what you mean by “physiognomist” in this context. My brain keeps seeing that word in terms of someone who reads your personality from your face.

Crevecoeur was a Frenchman who emigrated to the United States and wrote Letters From an American Farmer in the mid-18th century. Physiognomy was a kind of philosophy of the 18th century — maybe even going back a little earlier into the 17 century — which held that the nature of people was communicated to them or in some way imparted to them by the nature of the land or the actual place that they lived upon. This became a part of an on-going debate about the different characters of the European and the American, because, clearly, the landscapes were so different. It also figured into public discourse about what to do about Native Americans. Exactly who are they? Are they “savages?”

This is way off the topic. This is all coming out of my background — American cultural studies and comparative literature.

It may be off the beaten track, but it’s interesting because the background for the Chronicles is so involved. Now let’s approach the books from a different angle. How did your professional background in marketing research play into the creation of the Chronicles of the Unbinding? Did you study what people wanted before crafting the world of the Chronicles?

The genesis of the project happened when I was 20, before I ever had a glimmer of a thought that I would be running a technology consulting company or become a corporate marketing professional. It took me a long time to get to the actual writing of this, but I knew where I wanted to go with it 15 years ago.

There was only one real marketing decision that went into the Chronicles. Regarding some of the earlier things that I wrote and sent to editors and agents, I had several people tell me I needed to dumb things down. I had a lot of people tell me that I tend to write way too long — somehow programmed into my genes is the idea that a novel is 185,000 words. Every time I sit down to write something without absolutely keeping in mind how long it needs to be, it winds up within two or three thousand words of that length. Which is kind of scary — it’s just a natural length to me, but that’s not what you can get away with as a first-time writer.

So when I went back to do the initial rewrite of Hazard’s Price — which originally was 185,000 words long — the one really market-driven decision I made was that I knew I had to make it distinctly shorter. Otherwise, I think the only real effect of my doing a lot of marketing in the daytime, as it were, is that I’ve got a very healthy respect for my publisher. When Susan [Allison, editor in chief of Ace Books] says, I think it would be a good idea to do this with the cover or to do that, or whatever recommendation she makes, I think I kick back a little bit less. She is the professional in this field.

Speaking of covers, your assassin — your bad guy — is the featured player on the cover of Hazard’s Price, not your hero.

I’ve had so many people come up to me and say, “Who on earth is that?” Clearly, he’s bald, so it looks like that would be Hain (the assassin). But there are a few details out of place, like the hawk descending to his hand, which doesn’t appear anywhere.

The birds descend to Madh, the sorcerer who employs Hain.

Although they’re not exactly birds. They’re a little bit more than birds, which I had been thinking would be a natural, but then you don’t get the assassin on the cover. In a lot of ways, that assassin is the most easily recognizable type in the book — your less complicated representation of evil, which is one of the things I’ll be going to discuss in my panel tomorrow night [Aug. 31].

I’m looking forward to talking about villainy, because the way evil gets represented is an interesting thing. I think we often don’t do as much as we could or go as far as we can — which is not necessarily to make everybody more bestial and evil in appearance, but to understand that villainy is not a very simple thing.

How are you going to bring that out? In Hazard’s Price, you’ve got good guys and bad guys. The bad guys want to bring about the Unbinding, which will release the catastrophic forces of magic into a world that’s not equipped to handle them. They’re using a really not nice person (Hain) to assist them in doing this, because they couldn’t get the higher priced spread they wanted (Galantine Hazard). The evil in it is pretty straightforward. The person who isn’t terribly straightforward is Barr Aston, who commits evil acts in the name of good.

Hopefully by the end of Hazard’s Price and even more by the end of the second book, Dark Waters, people will be looking at Madh as a reasonably complicated character. The very first time we see Madh, in the prologue to Hazard’s Price, he’s crashing a party. Here he is — the ostensible villain — but his bow tie is a little bit crooked. He feels distinctly uncomfortable in this social situation, which is not, particularly, the way we tend to represent villains in fantasy series. A lot of villains don’t have any interior life whatsoever. Evil often tends to be presented in exceptionally uncomplicated ways, and I think that the field, as a whole, has a lot of crutches that makes an uncomplicated presentation a very easy out.

In so many cases, evil and good become racialized, because you can categorize a whole different species as evil. For example, orcs are evil — although I certainly don’t want to taint Tolkien with this brush. Tolkien, I think, is an exception to the norm. He had a very fine and subtle understanding of the degree to which evil lies within his human characters, as well as his non-human ones. But for a lot of fantasy works, it’s very easy to create these lurking, archetypal epitomes of evil, where you can’t even find a single little grain of anything redeemable, recognizable or identifiable. I think it’s useful to have a couple of elements of evil like that around in a book, but you shouldn’t allow it to be your prime source.

It would be very hard to sustain that kind of evil over a five-book series…or is it possible that the series might extend longer?

At the end of the five books, my intention is that the Chronicles of the Unbinding will be resolved and come to completion in a very satisfying way. That is not to say that, when you have as broad a tapestry as I’m trying to weave here, there that there won’t be a lot of interesting characters and territory yet to be explored.

As I said, when I was coming up with the idea for the series, part of the genesis was the question: “What then?” In a lot of cases, the really interesting stuff for me is asking that question: “What would happen next to these characters?” Sometimes the superficially happy endings are enough, but sometimes the nature of that character or the world that’s been created makes you say there should be implications down the line. So, we’ll see when we get there.

Part of it will be determined by the readers — whether they want to see any of these characters again, or are five novels enough? There are a couple of characters who will be a little bit peripheral in the first five books, who I’m considering doing other things with.

I got the feeling when reading Hazard’s Price that I was looking at something that was a complete work but longer than one book. Did you conceive of the series as a unit?

Yes, this is very much as single, overarching event that is happening here. To whatever extent possible, I’m trying to for the sake of a physical binding — the book kind of binding, not the magical kind of binding — to present that event in discreet installments that make sense. But, yeah, the books are very, very interrelated.

Since this interview will be appearing about the time Dark Waters hits the shelves, could you give our readers a teaser for the second book in the series?

I think that the second book will please anybody who is waiting for some of the big pay-off conclusions from Hazard’s Price that don’t get paid off within the first book itself. I think Dark Waters moves a pretty brisk rate towards a couple of big finales. I really think the book is a lot of fun. I’m very excited about getting Dark Waters out.

And we’ll be seeing some very unusual critters. Is that what the cover is saying?

The cover is saying you will be seeing some unusual critters. There were just a couple of magical creatures in the first book and just a couple in this one. That cast of critters is going to grow significantly as we go along. You start to see more of what the world was like before the Binding in this book.

So some of the creatures that were supposed to be destroyed in the Binding appear as the partial Unbinding begins.

A lot of creatures that were ostensibly destroyed…. There’s that word “ostensibly” again. Well, sometimes you’re destroyed, and sometimes you’re just licking your wounds and waiting for your next opportunity. There are a couple of creatures that fall into that category.

It’s so interesting, after you’ve worked so long on something, to finally get feedback from people. Going back to the genesis of the endeavor…my mother never reads fantasy. She reads romances almost exclusively — though it could be historical romances or gothic romances. So, when she picked up the book, I said, “Mom, you don’t want to read this. This isn’t your stuff.”

When she finished it, naturally, she said she liked it, but I will that bracket that aside as clear parental bias. “But,” she said, “I wanted more magic.” Which I thought was a pretty funny response from a romance reader.

Maybe she likes paranormal romance.

[Laughs. ] I think on that metric Dark Waters will satisfy as well. There’s a lot more interesting magic going on as we continue to get deeper into the series. You can tell that by the cover. For the reader at home, we’re printing out a wonderfully umber brown manticore — a winged lion.

Are you a native of Atlanta?

I am a New York native, and this is my third — and last — relocation. I’ve lived in New York and Chicago; Portland, Ore., and here. I threw away the original packing, so I’m here to stay. All the boxes are in the trash.

Do you consider Dragoncon your hometown con, or is this your first Dragoncon?

This is my second Dragoncon. It is now my hometown con, and it’s nice to have such a robust convention that happens in my backyard every year. It’s clearly a big, big perk — unless, next year, I’m living in Spain… That would be a tough one. [Laughs.]

Is Dragoncon 2001 your first convention since Hazard’s Price?

Since the book has sold, this is the first convention I’ve had the opportunity to attend. I’m looking forward to doing few more of them if time permits. It’s a kind of delicate balancing act when you’re trying to juggle running a company at the same time. I travel a lot, and I’m trying to weave appearances into my business travel schedule. There’s just not enough time in the day.

And you’ve got other projects in the works too. I think you mentioned dark fantasy as well as comedy.

I don’t have any pretension that the work that I do is breaking any literary barriers or is trailblazing in any sort of important literary way. I look for it to be good, fun, exciting reads. However, at the same time, there is typically some sort of irritation that I have — a dark corner of the field that just doesn’t get explored properly.

I’ve always loved humorous fantasy, but at the same time I’ve felt a little bit of frustration at the fact that there a lot of people who do broad humor exceptionally well — Terry Pratchett, Robert Asprin, etc., etc. They do a great job with that. But it seems to me that most people have stayed away from humor that is driven by character.

I’d like to explore the possibility of a somewhat more realistic, character-driven humor in the field — rather than it always being very strange creatures interacting in very strange ways. Though I love that kind of really wonderful, absurdist, surreal fantasy. I was busy reading The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy all through algebra class in eighth grade. That’s what sat on my lap for three solid weeks.

No wonder you went into comparative American literature instead of math.

I’m not too bad on the math. But hey, give me a fellowship and tell me to read books and write about them for about ten years. I picked up three masters and a Ph.D. by the time I was done. I spent a good decade of my life avoiding the work place. Ironically, here I am now running a business, instead of being a slacker fantasy writer living off the good graces of my wife — which was the original plan! It didn’t work out!

Are there kids in the mix now?

There are two kids in the mix. There’s a two-year-old boy and a one-year-old girl. No slacker’s life. Between running a business, writing novels and raising kids, there are bags under the eyes. These are the things we wish upon ourselves for very good reasons, so I try not to complain at all.

They are good reasons. And look at it this way, you’ll be able to write kids. Lots of people can’t get them right.

That’s true too. Actually, one of the things I was thinking about is that anyone writes an epic fantasy that includes taking a two-year-old along as part of the plot — wow. I’m just not seeing that as a logistical possibility, having just traveled a week with the two kids.

Yes, there are good tactical reasons why they generally start epic fantasies with heroes of either gender who are unattached or who will soon be unattached. They do not have children with them unless the children drive the plot by being abducted at an early age.

There are all of those little things about the travel epic that we always leave out, which is interesting, because when you look at travel narratives, those details are what people dwell on. The first time that you have to go to the toilet in the woods if you’re a city boy — all those things are just ignored in most epic fantasy. No, we’re just a happy fellowship riding through the woods toward wherever our destination is. I try to keep those little logistical details in mind.

I notice that Galantine/Brandt is a slob too.

What would you expect from a bachelor in his mid-thirties?

It depends on whether or not he’s trying to pick up girls.

He’s a little bit consciously unattractive. That’s the way I would term it.

And he goes through a lot of changes over the course of the five books.

That’s another thing. When you start out with a hero who’s perfectly formed out of the gate, there’s not necessarily a lot to follow along with. I’d rather have a bit of a trajectory. Brandt doesn’t necessarily start out as the most lovable character in the first few pages.

That’s what makes him interesting.

I hope so.

You put Brandt up against a magician who has a dark purpose, and you’re not sure who you want to root for. Brandt starts out with everything in the world, and yet the son of a bitch doesn’t have the grace to be grateful for it.

No, he doesn’t have the grace to be grateful about just about anything at this point.

And that’s why I, as a reader, know he’s going to go far, because he’s not where people wind up at the end of a story.

It will be interesting to see where you think he is at the end of Dark Waters.

I look forward to it. But to return to the earlier question, I assume the science fiction comedy you’re planning will feature more character-driven humor than situational humor.

Humor is always an interaction between character and situation. There will be tons of situational humor, but I’m trying to moderate the degree of absurd slapstick. I’m really trying to keep it very much grounded in the way that a late 20th century or early 21st century New Yorker would react upon finding himself transported to a very different kind of place — but also making frequent trips back and forth.

Your main character gets to travel back and forth between universes?

For this other project, the two principal locations are New York City and a completely alternate world that’s very much not like New York, at all.

Any idea when we can look forward to seeing this work on the shelves?

I don’t have firm plans for when that’s going to come out. I’m writing another one, which I’m hoping to get done too, which I’m very excited about, but I don’t have firm publication dates. The schedule for the Chronicles of the Unbinding is very aggressive. The first book came out in August, and the second one is scheduled for release in December. So, for good reason, virtually all of my time has been poured into the Unbinding. But I’m looking forward to getting a little more time to bring those other projects to completion.

After the December release of Dark Waters, how quickly can we expect to see the third, fourth and fifth installments in the series?

I don’t want to speak out of turn, but I hope that we’re targeting the fall of 2002 for the next installment, which is almost done. That’s almost in the can. Yeah! I’m not sure what the production schedule will be for numbers four and five.

Were you expecting to get the call from your agent or Penguin Putnam about the Chronicles of the Unbinding, or did it come as a complete surprise?

When it finally happened, it came as a surprise. I mentioned before that it took a long time to reach fruition. But there’s another issue.

I think that being a bad writer is actually better in some ways, because you can get things rejected very quickly. Whereas I had a manuscript for a different book that had been under serious consideration at five different publishers in a row. One of those publishers took as long as two years to finally make that kind of “No, unless you’re going to make these changes to it, the book’s not going to quite get there” decision. The timelines are so incredibly long. By the time you finally do get that letter that says, “Oh, yes, this is good, and we will publish it,” I think you’re just shocked, because it’s been ten years of: “It’s close, but…”

I’m looking forward to getting every one of my books out there. It’s always a little bit of a thrill seeing them on the shelves.

Jean Marie Ward

In addition to editing Crescent Blues, Jean Marie Ward writes for a number of Web-based and print magazines, including Science Fiction Weekly. She is the author of Illumina: the Art of Jean Pierre Targete (Paper Tiger) and several short stories, including “Most Dead Bodies in a Confined Space” in Strange Pleasures 2 (Prime Books). Her first novel, With Nine You Get Vanyr, written with Teri Smith, is scheduled to be released by Samhain Publishing in late 2006..