RK: Riverdale is SO MUCH FUN. The perfect mixture of weird, bizarre, and campy. And everyone is so attractive. I love that Archie basically exists to take his shirt off and make poor decisions. Hirum Lodge is Daddy.
Film/TV doesn’t influence my writing much. I stick mostly to twenty-minute comedies that I can work into my lunch break or watch while working out. Right now, I’m obsessed with Brooklyn 99 and The Good Place. Anything Michael Schur has worked on, really. I don’t have enough hours in the day to spend on longer dramas anymore, though I really wish I did.
IFP: You’re currently pursuing an MPhil in Modern Chinese Studies at Cambridge University, which seems like a lot of work to juggle between being a bestselling author! How do you make time for writing, and what drives you to come back to the page?
RK: It’s very hard, and I’m not sure I have a good time management system down. Term time was tough. Either I fell behind on book stuff, or I fell behind on school stuff. I chose to fall further behind on book stuff because at the end of the day, I prioritize academics. The term is over now, so I’ve had some more flexibility to work on Book Three. I think I’ve gotten pretty good at working through writer’s block because I’ve realized there is no “perfect mood” for writing–when you’re on deadline, you just have to get the work done, whether you feel like it or not. I have a bunch of little productivity tricks—using a Pomodoro timer, setting daily word counts or revision page counts, listening to music—that in tandem provide sufficient motivation to bang some words out. If all else fails, reading a few hundred pages of good writing usually does the trick. Watching other people work magic with words always jumpstarts my brain to try to attempt the same.
IFP: So much of your love of history comes across in your books. When did you first become interested in history and why?
RK: I’m not sure it’s possible to answer that question. It’s like asking someone, “when did you first become interested in stories.” Likely, at some point in my distant past when I first became sentient?
IFP: The Washington Post calls The Dragon Republic, “A study in every kind of violence . . . Kuang pulls from East Asian history, including the brutality of the Second Sino-Japanese War, to weave a wholly unique experience.” Your books delve into the complicated, bloody, and often contested events in history. Tell us what intrigues you about these historical events and how you approach translating them to the page for a modern audience.
RK: I study modern Chinese history and literature, so it’s natural that it inspires most of my fiction. I take a very syncretic approach to my academic and literary work; almost all of the cool/freaky/weird things I come across in my course reading gets spun into an episode in my books.
The question of how I translate them for a modern audience is interesting. See, I am the modern audience—I’m situated in the present day, so I can’t help but understand historical events through my 2019 worldview. In a sense, I don’t have to do translation at all, because I’m just presenting historical events to readers in the way that I, someone born in 1996, understand them. So I don’t consciously worry too much about whether historical events will make sense to readers; if they make sense to me, then it’s fine. On the other hand, I do have to think about whether someone not in my field will understand certain literary allusions, terms of art, signifiers, symbols, gestures, etc. (This isn’t just a modern/historical issue, it’s a Chinese/Chinese-American/American issue.) So I do often spell out the context behind a lot of images that wouldn’t need that same explanation if the novel were written in Chinese for a Chinese audience.
IFP: What is your favorite thing in The Dragon Republic?
RK: I like the naval battles! Dragons in Chinese mythology are often closely associated with water, so it makes sense that most of the action in Book Two happens over rivers or at sea. I got to play around with river warfare tactics, secret pirate cities, and all makes and models of different ships. (I got very into this–I have a whole research document titled “ship porn.) There are quite a few episodes in Chinese history that deal with naval warfare—most famously the Battle of Red Cliffs—so I enjoyed spinning my own version of those. I didn’t have any previous academic experience in naval warfare, so I did a lot of research in tactics and equipment, which was tremendously fun.
R.F. Kuang is the Nebula, Locus, and Campbell Award nominated author of The Poppy War and its forthcoming sequel The Dragon Republic. She is currently pursuing an MPhil in Modern Chinese Studies at Cambridge University on a Marshall Scholarship, where her dissertation examines propaganda literature by Northeast writers during the Second Sino-Japanese War. Check out her website rfkuang.com, to stay up to date with her writing.
9 Cats in Science Fiction Films
A short hiss-tory of the key roles played by felines
by John Tuttle
When we think of pets or domestic animals in the sci-fi genre of cinema and television, we might automatically call to mind the iconic sled dogs from The Thing (1982) or the little English-speaking alien disguised as a dog in the original Men in Black (1997). However, another fond and furry animal appears in science fiction even more so than its canine contemporaries: the humble cat.
With their graceful maneuverability and attractiveness, cats have found their way into science fiction plots throughout film history, whether as the random “guinea pig” for a mad scientist’s latest experiment or a reluctant stowaway who fights Kree soldiers in space. Some cats have become iconic emblems of science fiction, while most have become utterly crucial to the plots they partake in. And some simply serve to mystify us.
In early sci-fi, cats often keep scientists company in their isolated laboratories. One instance of this is the random pussycat in This Island Earth (1955), In the film, three scientists discuss the sketchy circumstances of their work for a mysterious man named Exeter and their apparent captivity. A cat announces its presence with a screeching meow, giving the scientists quite a start. After feeding the hungry kitty, the scientists conclude Exeter could be listening to them (indeed, he is) and change the topic of their discussion. Ultimately, the cat causes the change in conversation which limits Exeter’s knowledge of the Earthlings’ plans of escape.
Another early sci-fi flick featuring felines and scientific machinery is The Fly (1958). The story features two fine felines, M’sieur Tom and Dandelo. Unfortunately, Dandelo happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Namely, when scientist Andre Delambre needs a biological test subject for his next teleportation experiment. Though teleportation doesn’t go down too well for Dandelo, the cat serves as a necessary link in a chain of tests. After a few adjustments, Andre intends to move on to human “guinea pigs.” But another unforeseen mistake mars his test and creates a human-fly hybrid, one of the most nightmarish sci-fi scenarios seen on screen.
By the 1960s, cats or cat-inspired characters make frequent appearances in action-packed TV programs. Additionally, many of the feline characters are often portrayed as feminine. Cat Woman from the Adam West Batman series is one example. Zaybo from the 1960's show Lost in Space is another. In the episode “The Haunted Lighthouse,” an alien boy has an invisible companion he calls Zaybo. While invisible, Zaybo can create an audible meow and fits nicely in the boy’s two cupped hands. However, when visible, the cat is a ferocious lion. Then again, Zaybo also appears as a seductive woman, an example which fits that sixties stereotype mentioned earlier.
A few months after “The Haunted Lighthouse” aired, Star Trek’s “Assignment: Earth” hit TV audiences with another female shape-shifting cat. In the episode, secret agent Gary Seven has a feline for his closest companion. Her name is Isis and, as we see near the episode’s end, she seems to be more than your everyday pussycat. While resting on a couch, some see her as a woman while others still see her as a cat.
Star Trek’s feline fixation can be seen in later continuations and spin-offs. Eg: Data’s pet cat Spot in Next Generation or M’Ress in Star Trek: The Animated Series. M’Ress is actually an example
of the Caitian race, which, as you might guess, is a race of cat-like humanoids. If you wish to be entertained by feline re-envisionments of the show’s main characters, check out Jenny Parks’ illustrated book Star Trek Cats (2017).
Chronologically, Star Trek carries us into the nineties, where we find Men in Black (1997), a splendid mash-up of sci-fi and comedy. In this film, an Arquilian (alien) scientist named Gentle Rosenburg owns a cat named Orion. Though a ferocious, bestial insectoid kills Rosenburg, Orion is left untouched. Only by the climax of the movie do we begin to realize the marble on Orion’s collar is something much more than a décor piece. Within the little translucent orb snuggly rests a micro-galaxy: a unique and full cosmos all of its own. Orion has been its unassuming guardian.
Most recently, a lovable “cat” appears on the big screen next to one of this year’s most significant superheroes: Carol Danvers, a.k.a. Captain Marvel. The cat named Goose shadows Danvers and Nick Fury in Captain Marvel (2019), one of the latest installments within the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Goose is revealed (spoilers!) to be a Flerken, a cat-like creature whose mouth possesses Kraken-like tentacles outstripping Goose’s relative size.
Although Captain Marvel is the film’s most important character, one can make an argument that Goose runs a close second. In one scene, Goose protects the good guys by literally devouring their enemies while a shocked and two-eyed Nick Fury looks on. In another scene, we see Fury lose an eye when Goose slashes his face.
But, Goose’s most critical role is his consumption of the coveted Tesseract, an artifact containing an infinity stone. As a Flerken, Goose’s internal anatomy includes a pocket dimension which explains how he was able to swallow and keep down the Tesseract. In an after-credits sequence, we see Goose barf up the Tesseract. For decades, Goose kept the Tesseract safe, serving as a temporary, biological lockbox for an object of immense power and destructive potential. It was Goose’s quick thinking (or random craving) that allows for the Tesseract to fall back into the hands of the somewhat competent agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., making possible the whole chain of cat-astrophic events that is to ensue.
As we have explored in detail, cats have inspired many sci-fi creatures. Cats themselves frequent on-screen stories of flesh-eating blobs, secret agents, glowing celestial stones. Even more frequently, they have provided fundamentally critical aspects to the storylines of science fiction on TV and the big screen alike.
10 Unabashedly Hopeful, Heartbroken, and Silly
An Interview with Christian McKay Heidicker, author of Scary Stories for Young Foxes
by J.T. Morse
Kids have a lot of walls in their heads just aching to be knocked down.
Christian McKay Heidicker
Who has a demon-hunting cat, writes spec fiction for young readers, and purposefully became addicted to video games to fuel his writing? Author Christian McKay Heidicker. After spending several years working in education, developing instructional comic books for a non-profit, and teaching creative writing at Broadview University, Christian McKay Heidicker shifted his focus to writing. We’re glad he did. His latest book is Scary Stories for Young Foxes (Henry Holt and Co., July 30, 2019). Interstellar Flight Press contributing writer J. T. Morse had the opportunity to exchange words with this cat-loving storyteller and avid fan of Jordan Peele.
INTERSTELLAR FLIGHT PRESS: Let’s kick off with a chat about video game addiction. Is there really such a thing, Christian? Give us the scoop on how video games have informed and influenced your writing, in particular, for your first book, Cure for the Common Universe.
CHRISTIAN MCKAY HEIDICKER: I played a LOT of video games in high school. A lot.
A friend and I failed all of our AP exams because we were too busy trying to defeat Final Fantasy VIII (a terrible game that no one should play). After that, we had to take a good look at ourselves and wonder what we were getting out of our time in front of a screen. I stopped playing completely when I decided I wanted to become an author.
It was only after I was given the idea of video game rehab, by a friend, that I picked the controller back up for research efforts. After that, I purposefully got myself addicted to games by playing them for eighteen hours a day for a solid month. Then I took a month off from technology and caffeine and sugar and anything addictive. It was in that purified state that I wrote Cure for the Common Universe.
IFP: For your upcoming release, Scary Stories for Young Foxes, you collaborated with an illustrator. Tell us about why you chose to work with Junyi Wu and share some of the ups and downs of teaming up with a visual artist.
CMH: I chose Junyi because:
A. Her work is amazing.
B. I’d never seen anything like it before. It’s a little fairy tale and a little naturalistic with just a dash of horror.
Initially, we were tempted to go with someone like Jon Klassen (he illustrated Pax by Sara Pennypacker), but we were trying to create something unique. A recognizable style didn’t feel right. By the time Junyi started working on the art, I was pretty much finished with the book. So, there wasn’t a lot of back and forth.
Publishers usually organize that kind of stuff, and I’m lucky that my editor, Christian Trimmer, even asked for my feedback in the first place. Once we chose Junyi, things were easy for me. I just sat back and watched the beautiful art rolling in. I even bought some of the originals and plan to hang them in my office.
IFP: Rumor has it that you’re a huge Bram Stoker, H.P. Lovecraft, and Edgar Allen Poe fan. What do you find inspiring and admirable about these horror-writing icons and their work?
CMH: Haha. I’m not a huge fan of any of those guys! That was just a marketing hook my publisher came up with.
However, I do enjoy the first hundred pages of Dracula, a couple of Poe poems, and a handful of Lovecraft’s more atmospheric tales. But those last two authors are hugely problematic. It’s hard enjoying Poe’s dark side when you know he married his thirteen-year-old cousin and abused her. And Lovecraft is the incel to end all incels.
Fortunately, some savvy creators like Matt Ruff and Jordan Peele are finding ways to pay homage to Cthulhu while calling out the authors’ misogyny and racism. To me, that’s pretty exciting. I would’ve tried something similar, but, y’know, it’s a kids’ book about foxes, so I just made my Lovecraft story about alligators.
IFP: Give us some insight into why writing speculative fiction for Middle Grade and young readers appeals to you so much.
CMH: I could sit here for four years and try to concoct the most original idea in the universe, and I guarantee someone in the adult world has already done it. Not so in kids’ books.
Video game rehab? A girl trapped in a 1950's horror movie? Classical monster stories retold with baby fox kits? Boom. Brand new. But not so marketable to adults. Kids have a lot of walls in their heads just aching to be knocked down. Also, you can be unabashedly hopeful, heartbroken, and silly with kids. And that’s me. I care very deeply about these foxes. Even if it doesn’t seem like it with some of the horrible things that happen to them.
IFP: We couldn’t let this interview close without inquiring about your demon-hunting cat. Every writer should have a supernatural feline by their side. Tell us more, please.
CMH: Lucifer Birchaus Morningstar (a.k.a. Lucy) is the light of my life—my fiancé knows and accepts this.
I was walking through Best Friends Animal Adoption— just to look (aren’t you always there to just look?)—when I walked past what I thought was an empty kennel. A tiny black paw reached out and snagged my shirt. I turned and found golden-green eyes staring back at me and instantly fell in love. My ex-girlfriend was with me and said she didn’t want to get a cat. You can probably guess how that relationship ended.
Lucy and I share dreams sometimes. I once dreamed that I was running, and she was running beside me. I woke up to find her legs scampering on the bed, her eyes still squeezed shut. Another time, I had a nightmare that there was a skeletal woman hiding behind the drapes in my living room, ski
n dripping off her bones. I woke up when Lucy sprinted into the bedroom, licked my cheek, and demanded to be cuddled. She’s not a licker. Ever. But I could tell she was terrified. I think she saw that skeleton woman.
Christian McKay Heidicker reads, writes, and drinks tea. Between his demon-hunting cat and his fiddling, red-headed girlfriend, he feels completely protected from evil spirits. Christian is the author of Scary Stories for Young Foxes, Cure for the Common Universe, and Attack of the 50 Foot Wallflower. He lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. Learn more about him at cmheidicker.com.
11 Strange Bodies
Project Runway, finding my queerness, and body modification
by Presley Thomas
. . . Coming out is itself its own kind of body modification as it changes the way others see you. Often with horns on your head instead of your shoulders.
Project Runway began on December 1, 2004, on a small, ambiguously gay cable channel called Bravo. The show helped build the channel’s audience and, often for the first time, brought gay culture into peoples’ homes. Even those unfamiliar with gay culture found the talent of PR’s budding fashion designers a draw. Viewers wanted to see something created from start to finish, from a piece of fabric to wearable design.
I started watching Project Runway in 2012 with my mother. After we both came home from work, I’d sit on the couch while she never slowed down, always ironing clothes even when the show was on. Her arms moved with the iron across the wrinkled fabric, her eyes focused on the television as designers competed in challenges. As we watched, we made comments on the garments as if we were fashion executive judges ourselves. We had no experience, but we had each other, and I hoped that would be enough. That a single truth of the many things she loved and acknowledged about me wouldn’t change everything. That I wouldn’t get voted off the family and be asked to pack my things and go.
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