Ari: "To Naomi Kritzer: Do Trans People Exist In The Future"

What is something that's present in your life or the lives of your friends, but never (or rarely) reflected in fiction, that you wish you saw in fiction more often?

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Do Trans People Exist In The Future?

Other people have made this argument better than I can, but I’d really appreciate more LGBT (and specifically transgender) representation in science fiction and fantasy stories. The thing about the gay and trans community is that we tend to find one another in a crowd. Over the course of the last few years, all of my childhood friends have come out as LGBT. And nearly everyone I’ve befriended in more recent years has turned out to be gay as well. Almost no one I regularly talk to is straight and cisgender. At the same time, most speculative fiction characters are exclusively heterosexual. At best, there will be one white, middle-aged gay man in there somewhere. He’s Christian, ashamed of who he is, and will at some point have a rather emotionally charged coming-out arc during which a straight, white Christian character will give a rousing speech involving what’s on the inside being the most important. Don’t get me wrong—those types of story arcs meant a lot to me when I was younger and can be very interesting if done in a unique way. But they aren’t representative of what I and my friends are actually like. Trans representation is even harder to find, especially because they’re almost exclusively realistic fiction stories about transitioning (again, important but not really relevant to my life). So going off of that, here are the 5 things I’d really like to see in speculative fiction concerning trans characters:

-          Trans identities as a character trait, not a plot point. Much like being Jewish or mixed race, being trans isn’t something that’s very often relevant in my day to day life. Over the course of the years it’s had a profound impact on who I am and how I see the world, but it doesn’t govern my every waking moment. I’d love to see trans characters who discover alien worlds or learn magic, as opposed to having their entire lives revolve around being trans.

-          I want to know how trans characters would interact with magic or advanced technology. Would we be using it to make physical changes to our bodies easier, or would future trans people be too proud of their identities to do something like that? Would our “true names” be reflective of our biology or of our gender? If it’s a magic system where spells are reflective of the person, could someone be outed by their magic? How would people deal with the shortages of hormones and other transition-related supplies in a post-apocalyptic setting? I said previously that stories with trans characters shouldn’t always revolve around that identity. That’s true, but I’d also love to see what trans characters would be like in speculative fiction settings.

-          Stop being afraid to offend trans people. Frankly, I’d love to see trans characters who make morally grey choices, or who make jokes about being trans. Trans characters, just like any other character, shouldn’t be perfect. It makes for boring, repetitive characters and an alienated reader.

-          A wider variety of archetypes. One of the most common narratives you’ll hear about trans people is that we’re “born in the wrong body”. Some trans people do genuinely feel that way, but even more feel the need to parrot out that same story out of concern that their identities wouldn’t be taken seriously otherwise. Most trans people are uncomfortable with our bodies to some extent, but a substantial portion of that is because of how people treat us on the basis of traits like wide hips or a deep voice. It goes away substantially if the people in our lives treat us as the gender we know we are and it’s more like having gynecomastia or an embarrassing scar than having the wrong body.

By the way, if you ever do write a transgender character in a science fiction/fantasy story, I want to read it. Cat Pictures Please was a really funny take on AI and the Internet Age and I’m looking forward to that YA novel.

-Ari

Andrew Ye: "Dear Carmen Maria Machado: Complexity and Stangnant-cy (if that even is a word)"

Dear Carmen Maria Machado: Complexity and Stagnant-cy (if that even is a word)

By Andrew Ye

            It’s been a long time since I had the chance to pick up a book outside of school. However, how I would go about it is through outside review and recommendations. I trust my friends to provide good reads and the public opinion to provide a general understanding of a book. More recently, even though this was an assigned reading, I couldn’t stop myself from reading a book for a project because it was so compelling. That’s what I look forward into a book. Something that allows me to think but not too much. The worst thing an author can do is use complex language. I believe it’s harder to form an image in my mind when I must spend time using context clues to first figure out what the author is talking about. This puts me off and I lose sight of what the book is about.

Both the complexity of the reading and how the plot progresses decides what I consider in a book. One of the many reasons I loved the book I was assigned because the plot and language was the best part. That’s what the author is supposed to focus on. Plot that sticks to a very tight schedule isn’t interesting because it’s monotonic, boring, and too simple at times. However, I’ve seen authors pull this off and be successful. For example: We recently learned about world building in our Speculative fiction class and how important it is to the story. If I don’t have a good picture of the world through the plot that feels stagnant and uninteresting. Good plot introduces the world with detail in simple language.

These two reasons of the complexity of the language and its use in the process of building a world as well as the drive of the plot are what decide whether it’s worthwhile to finish a book instead of picking up a better book to read.

Akash Palani: "Dear Carmen Maria Machado: I Love Telling Myself Stories"

Dear Carmen Maria Machado: I Love Telling Myself Stories

by Akash Palani

“No, Varoon, how could you betray me like this?” I cried, barely holding back tears as I brandished my wand through the rain. Sadness, defeat, and dull anger gripped my heart. I was hyperaware of my surroundings, hearing every raindrop pelt my exposed arms, seeing my neighbors friendly, suburban backyard in vivid, imagined, detail, with smoke fogging the environment and arcs of magic flying through the air.  I felt the spark leave my wand, and I saw it hit him.

Then, we went inside for a glass of milk.

The earliest I can remember myself telling stories to myself was in the second grade. My neighbor and I spent innumerable hours pretending we were wizards. Naturally, as children of the 2000s, our obsession with wizards came from none other than the Harry Potter franchise. Immersing myself in this imagined world, one that we made up as we went, provided me with freedom- freedom to be completely, unashamedly, myself- or whatever else I felt like being.                                   

My neighbor was one few I considered “friends” at that point in my life. I was never part of a large group of friends, a point of concern for my father. I distinctly remember that as a child, whenever we were out in public and would see someone with whom I may have had a remote acquaintance, he would point and yell, “Look, Akash, it’s your friend!” (the person would very decidedly not be a friend, and I would elucidate the fact quietly, almost embarrassed).

To my father, and I’m sure to some extent you, the reader, this may seem sad. It isn’t. I submerged myself in all things sfnal, devouring most material that came my way. All of that reading trained my mind to be imaginative; created worlds were my resting place. At any idle moment, my mind would wander to the extraordinary, and this complete immersion and the joy it caused me was part of the reason I was completely ok with my small group of friends. Together, we read, played pretend, and enjoyed ourselves. David Hartwell, in his essay The Golden Age of Science Fiction is Twelve, really did accurately portray me as a science fiction reader: slightly awkward, ravenous for any new material, and impatient with the ordinary.

Since middle school, I have become much more social, and the amount of speculative fiction I consume has decreased greatly, replaced by the New Yorker, the Wall Street Journal, and other such news and culture publications. Thus, the frequency and reason I tell myself stories has changed with time, of course. Rarely do I have time to run around outside with my neighbors; I attend a boarding school now, so that’s hardly a possibility.

But I still do tell myself stories. It’s actually become an extremely valuable tool for something I would never have expected: leadership. Throughout my time at IMSA, I have made an effort to stay involved with and serve my community through various positions of leadership, from Student Council to coordinating our school’s leadership program. When approaching a problem, I identify its story, and fill in the missing piece. How did the problem arise? How has it affected people? And the question that requires the most imagination and storytelling on my part- how can it be effectively solved?

Drawing on the other “stories” I’ve read and imagined- in newspapers, in magazines, even in fiction- and using how other people have approached problems to inform my own decisions. With nonfiction, journalistic publications, this approach is easily defended. In the realm of fiction, especially in the speculative with which we are primarily concerned, this may seem a little far fetched. So, I’d like to offer an example as demonstration. In Harry Potter, Professor Dumbledore leads the Order of the Phoenix and mentors Harry. He acts carefully, withholding information as necessary and providing careful, calculated guidance to his followers to ensure the optimal outcoming, ultimately prioritizing the survival of his cause over his own. Although I am not involved in secret magic organizations dedicated to holding back evil incarnate, his actions as a leader are a good guide. Often, when faced with tough choices as a leader, I retell the story of Dumbledore’s choices in my own context, imagining my own obstacles as analogs for what he experienced. Seldom can I act directly inspired by the Professor, but his calm, calculated considerations guide me to assess my own situations in a similar manner, prioritizing my teams and the best possible outcomes.

Aimee van den Berg: "Dear Naomi Kritzer: The Under-Represented Life of an American Teenager"

Dear Naomi Kritzer: The Under-Represented Life of an American Teenager

By Aimee van den Berg

Many things play a role in the lives of young adults, which are not present in fiction unless they are a main plot piece. Stories tend to gloss over aspects of life that do not seem to be vital to the story, yet these aspects could be very helpful in building a three dimensional character and making the story more relatable. Many stories also tend to sugarcoat kids’ lives, making their lives more clean cut than they are and even getting rid of problems altogether in order to focus on the main conflict. This causes the story to lose relatability and authenticity. In addition, honesty and a sense of rawness in YA novels is very intriguing and appealing in a book. I have chosen two topics, illegal substances and queerness, which tend to be present in young adults lives, yet are not often reflected in fiction. Drugs and alcohol unfortunately play a bigger role in teens’ lives than people seem to recognize, while queerness is still underrepresented in literature, though it is becoming more commonplace nowadays as more people are able to come out. These aspects of life need to be represented outside of the main plot line of a story by just existing as part of a character’s life, but these ideas also need to be presented in a way that makes them feel authentic and not overplayed. I also wanted to mention that I think mental illness is also a big part of life, especially for teens, but I decided to focus on other topics because I feel that the way you dealt with mental illness in “Cat Pictures Please” was very good.

Firstly, drugs and alcohol. They are illegal and unhealthy, especially for the developing brains of teens, yet they play some sort of role in most teen’s lives. Some people have friends who use these substances and/or classmates who have been suspended for using them, some people may have been offered something at some point, etc. Kids do not always get into these substances themselves, but they are exposed to them, which is a very real problem in kids’ lives. Books may be about a main character who is an addict, about a kid in the wrong crowd, or about a quiet teen who suddenly becomes “popular”, but books do not always address the encounters kids have with these substances in their everyday lives. Recently I have started to encounter more books that actually do this, though most are realistic fiction. By doing this, books have made me feel that the author was unafraid to show uglier sides of society and it made the book feel more sincere, regardless of whether the book was realistic fiction or about robots taking over the world. So, though some people underestimate the role of these harmful substances in kids’ lives, these substances sadly impact the lives of almost every teen in one way or another and, instead of ignoring it, acknowledging this darker part of life can make a story more authentic and relevant to readers.

Another piece of the world still underrepresented in media is the queer community. Many stories about being LGBT+ do exist; we even read a fiction story based off of the Stonewall riots for class. However, stories are either centered on someone being LGBT+ or they have an entirely cis and straight cast of characters, there is almost no in between. Not that there should not be more stories featuring LGBT+ people (there definitely should), it is just that, unless a character being gay or transgender is important to the plot, there will most likely be no LGBT+ characters. I would like to see LGBT+ characters simply existing in YA books and it not being a big deal (not killing them off is also appreciated). I like that you addressed being gay and the struggle of coming out in “Cat Pictures Please”, but I still wanted to talk about this subject because I feel that dealing with being gay as a teen is quite different from being a gay pastor and is something that merits representation of its own.

Overall, I feel that, though these aspects of life are not completely absent from fiction literature, they tend to be forgotten in cases where they are not necessary to a story, particularly in the case of queer characters.

I really hope this helps you in some way! This was a very interesting prompt and good luck on that new book!

Amarachi Okoli: Dear Carmen Maria Machado: I Tell Myself Stories to Come Up With More Stories to Tell

Dear Carmen Maria Machado: I Tell Myself Stories to Come Up with More Stories to Tell

By Amarachi Okoli

I told myself my first story in the third grade. It was three loose-leaf notebook pages long (whether it was college-ruled or wide ruled, I do not remember, although I do remember distinctly that I wrote it with a black pen). After many minutes of tireless writing, which resulted in a very tired right hand, I carried my story fresh off the press (quite literally) downstairs to debut it to my family members. After seeing their response to my story, I was, to say the least, inspired to continue writing and have not stopped since. Put quite simply, I have not stopped telling myself stories so that I can come up with more stories to tell, to myself and others. And there is a lot of machine work that goes into making this sort of thing happen.

Telling myself stories does nothing less than stimulate my imagination and ability to imagine the wildest things. I sometimes think of my mind as a mini movie theater. Where do the movies come from? The answer is quite intuitive, actually: experiences and relationships, current and past. I take these experiences and relationships and twist them up in a fantastical way so that they present something new, realities that range from brilliantly impossible and marginally tangible. Never do I ever consider imagining such impossible things to be a waste of time, because somewhere in that mess of impossible, I always seem to pick out something conceivable, which then travels from my mind to the pen, with my hand as a vehicle to the terminus, the paper in front of me. The more I tell myself stories, the more my imagination is worked, and thus, the more stories come out.

I kind of wish this next part was not quite true, but, sadly, it is: telling myself stories is kind of an escape. Guilty pleasure, I know, but I cannot lie. If you really want to call it what it is, please go ahead. Yeah, it’s called “daydreaming.” Now, this is no escape in the sense that it serves as a coping mechanism and nothing else, but escape in the sense of entertainment. I kid you not… every night as I go to bed, I look forward to closing my eyes to open my mind to my own little movie theater and just imagine until sleep takes the reins. I can literally and figuratively escape from pretty much everything else and concoct different pleasant ideas in my mind, for my own fun and also for my recognizance of them sometime in the future that could potentially lead to the birth of new stories.

Lastly, I continue to tell myself stories, because it keeps me up at night doing a strange dance between resting my head on my pillow and pulling out my phone yet again to jot down notes for improving the writings I already have. Sometimes I wish my imagination would stop working so that my mind can actually rest. Although imagining and coming up with stories of my own is not something I consider a chore. I know that once I stop telling myself stories of my own making, I never actually stop thinking about stories, so the only stories I do think about can only come from other places. This results in what I actually end up thinking about and writing down becoming less and less original. Sure, my life is distinctly unique from others, as theirs are from mine, but without that creative element of me coming up with stories to tell myself, which can consist of spinoff versions of my own past experiences, most of what I would end up writing down would sound like a lot of other stories.

All this to say? Every story I tell myself builds off the previous. With every story told, my imagination grows so that I can tell myself better stories in order to ultimately tell other people better stories. What does it really mean for me to tell myself stories? Nothing more than just drawing from events and ideas that have influenced me, the relationships I currently hold or held it in the past, or wishes and hopes buried in the back of my mind that could come to pass, in real life or on paper, and putting them all together into one big storyline that runs for as long as I want it to, as long as I remember where my first story started from.