#15
January 11, 2003
From: Lindsey Main

Hi Kelley,
Not a beer drinker (though I wish I could be because it always looks so fun)...So, I bring wine to the table.

Anyway....I read your short stories online and I liked them, so I thought I'd give SOLITAIRE a try. Someone had put it back at the end of the f's, so I found it next to SLOW RIVER (and had to grin). When I read the jacket and saw the word, "corporate", I stopped smiling...What if it's boring? What if I don't get it? Do I really want to spend twenty-five bucks on something I might not get? Fuckit. I'm buying it.

And I am so glad that I did. What a story! I've been thinking about it for the past two days.

I read the other questions here and was surprised to find people wondering about Steel Breeze. I had forgotten about them and everyone from KO...And I think it had everything to do with Jackal rubbing everyone out while she was in VC. I almost didn't want to finish the book after Snow got rubbed out. It was agonizing. This is serious, I thought, breathe. If Jackal came out of VC and Steel Breeze, her family, Neill, Snow and the others were never mentioned again, I would understand that...But I'm glad it didn't turn out that way.

I didn't quite understand how editing would work for the other solos. To me, it seemed that the crocodile was a breaking point and that the way to survive in VC was to get past the breaking point without breaking. The way I saw it, Jackal took herself apart instead of letting her crocodile rip her to pieces. So, were the other solos so damaged because they passed the breaking point and broke? If so, how would editing work for them when, in their virtual memories (aftershock) they are in a different place than Jackal? Like, a broken place. It just seems that, for the ones that are in the broken place, it's not a matter of finally facing the crocodile, but a matter of being able to go back to the first time they met the crocodile, so they can take themselves apart and get to the unbroken place where doors can be imagined. I feel like I'm doing a bad job expressing this idea, so I hope it makes some kind of sense.

Thanks for taking the time to read all of this,
cheers,
Lindsey

Beer, wine, champagne, chocolate milkshakes—bring it on, I like it all.

The way I read your question has to do with the difference between confronting (or being confronted by) one's crocodiles, and being psychologically and emotional functional in the daily world.

The crocodile in this book is one of my metaphors for a particular, fundamental fear that I believe we all have to some extent—fear of discovering that we are not as good at (insert your notion of important human attributes here) as the people around us. That we are broken people in a world where only perfect people enjoy love and success. We are Bad. Jackal's crocodile is a combination of guilt, imposter syndrome, and a huge need to please others so that she can like herself. It's not a new fear—it's been driving her most of her life.

I think lots of people go through life with one or more crocodiles lurking in the back brain. Sometimes we lock ourselves into little psychological boxes to avoid dealing with them, or to protect ourselves from their attacks. This influences our behavior and keeps us from living as fully as we can, but it doesn't mean we're nuts. We have tools (therapy, religion, mountain climbing, career, love, whatever) to help us manage the fear and get on with whatever lives we have decided to permit ourselves. What Jackal offers the other solos is such a tool to short-cut through the fear (as symbolized by the cell with no windows or doors) into a more expanded space. They still have flashbacks and get sucked into VC, but now they will have more options to deal with it.

The solos are screwed up because they've been forced to be alone with themselves in ways that (IMO) most cultures don't socialize for. We're not taught basic concepts and behaviors of autonomy to nearly the same extent as concepts of community. "Plays nicely" was certainly a lot more important to my grade school teachers than "independently sets her own standards and then strives to meet them." And it's clear in the context of the book that virtual solitary confinement is intended as a punishment. I am ambivalent about this, which is why it was only through being so alone that Jackal could win her way to a greater freedom.

It amuses me that some reviews describe Jackal as passive. Deciding to play nicely, or to play along, is not the same thing as being passive. That's not a word I would apply to anyone who makes an effort to become self-aware. For me, it's the most active choice there is.

Having said that, I don't think anyone has to be particularly sane or self-aware to live a functional life. The average consumer in Jackal's world won't need to be emotionally mature to get her kicks from an infinitely customizable virtual adventure. Nor will the solos have to walk through the same fire as Jackal to "earn" the right to the wider virtual world. Some of them will be getting a free ride. In general, I don't believe that people must become self-aware, or confront fear, or evolve spiritually to have lives that are comfortable and sometimes happy. It's only necessary that our definition of comfort and happiness match the life we are living. How, and whether, we make that match is where story happens.

This is all highly metaphorical, of course, and like most metaphor breaks down at some level of detailed examination. One of the reasons that I've been thinking, lately, that I'm not a "real" science fiction writer is that metaphor is so much more interesting to me than the science necessary to support its creation.

I'm not sure if I've expressed all these ideas coherently. If I haven't, please let me know, and I'll take another swing at it. And thanks for taking a chance with your twenty-five bucks.

#14
Jan 2, 2003
From: maria, badazzfem@aol.com

i just wanted to pass along praise for Solitaire. i loved the cover, and while it's true that you can't judge a book by it's cover, your words ended up in my hands and in my head because of the art. amen for that.

i'm not a big sci-fi reader, but i was cruising through the pages, and then one line nailed me like a Mack truck. the line about wanting to be in Snow's arms spoke so much to me about humanity and existence, and how a lover can have such influence and healing, be a haven. that line alone made it clear that i'd finish the book, and i ended up reading cover to cover that night.

being much more of a romantic than a sci-fi fan, it was the words about Snow and Jackal and the way they cared about and understood each other that were my favorites. your words were familiar and the ache for their relationship to survive is like the ache i have for my future and the possibility of love like that.

thanks for sharing your talents, and for using your talents to share emotion, compassion, intelligence, humanity, independence and togetherness, etc etc etc!

can't wait for more,
maria

Thanks very much. I'm glad you enjoyed it.

I find it challenging to write about love. I think it depends on describing small and sometimes inherently uninteresting moments in ways that reflect the greater whole, like building a pinhole camera to watch an eclipse. It seems to me that often writers choose to focus on the Big Moments of love, but in life (at least, in mine) those are only about 10% of the package—the rest is daily, built primarily, as Jackal describes it, on the dozen hourly acts of will that bind people together. Those are the bones of love. It's hard enough to write honestly and well about the beginning of love, or the end: but writing about persistence of love is, I think, a very particular and delicate skill. Something to keep working on, for sure. I will be a Happy Writer when I can write that well.

Having said all that, of course the Big Moments—where the foundation either holds, or not—are part of any story. Much of what interests me as a writer boils down to examining moments of choice, and even when the choice seems small it can still be a big moment. The things that drive our choices are so varied. There are a million stories there.

I wasn't sure as I was writing Solitaire that Jackal and Snow would be together after VC. I didn't make that decision until very shortly before I wrote the scene where Jackal finds Snow outside Shangri-La. It was hard to write about their saying goodbye (in the phone call just before Jackal goes into VC) and to think that it might be true. I'm glad it wasn't.

The choice about whether to have Snow come to the NNA was really, at base, a fundamental decision of whether to write a book about the presence or absence of hope. I decided that it was a braver choice, as well as a happier one, to have them try to work things out. It can be hard to sustain hope. It's a choice that has to be made over and over again—I think will plays a greater part than disposition in the choice (well, I believe that about almost every choice, but that's my bias). I believe the courage to hope is a quintessentially human thing.

I don't know if I'm a romantic or not. I don't believe that romantic love conquers all—I think in many cases it just makes life damn complicated. And I don't understand people who think that bad love is better than no love at all. I think some people don't know how to love, and that some people love each other but are not good together. Feelings aren't enough, no matter how intense. The persistence of love depends on doing as well as feeling. I do believe with all my heart that this kind of love (and lover) can be a haven, a fortress, a greenhouse, a grand adventure, and the best story in the world.