Eckhard Gerdes blurb for Voices

"What Kyle Muntz does in Voices is beautiful. So much innovative writing is purely cerebral and emotionally dead stuff. Muntz refuses to go that way. His work is as clever as the work of any other innovator—his use of homographs and their ensuing ambiguities and double- and triple-entendres is as deft as any author has ever accomplished. But here, what happens to the narrator is grounded in the senses and emotions. There is an emotional truth to the work that just plain hits home and makes one wonder why more innovative writers of fiction don’t do this. There is a sensuousness to the prose, to its sounds and rhythms, to its shapes, that makes one want to stop and linger on each page, to feel it, to let it work its pleasures over one, like a bath filled with exotic oils and aromas all known to stimulate the emotions. This is the kind of work that gives innovative writing a good name, and Kyle, bless you for it! Sure, I can think with the narrator, but so what? In Kyle Muntz’s wonderful work, I can feel with him. It’s a profoundly human piece of work, humbling, disquieting, and beautiful. Just touch it. You’ll see what I mean."

Existence as a Paradigm of Represented Space

I mentioned to Deep (my philosophy teacher) the other day that I was working on a piece of philosophy--which is true, but presently the project exists solely as scribbles in a notebook. Anyway, he mentioned I should bring something in, so I did a summary of my core concepts and the way I wanted to approach the final text.

The interesting thing about actually proposing an idea--as opposed to commentating, which is comparatively easy--is how naked it leaves you. For the most part, these concepts are natural extensions of who I am. Even recording them feels strange.

Existence as a Paradigm of Represented Space

Or:

Conception; Function; Actuality

—Kyle Muntz

I originally considered writing this in order to expand on themes I’ve introduced in my novels, particularly: self as mirror/process/artifice/illusion, society as a hierarchy of modulated symbols, multiple notions of static time (and its relationship to consciousness), and of course, representation itself. Probably I’ll get around to finishing it when I graduate college—I’d originally considered it as an option for my masters thesis, but the topics are too eclectic (philosophy, literary criticism—particularly deconstruction—linguistics, psychology, and maybe a bit of fiction/memoir too), especially for an English degree. All the ideas here are still at their early stages, but this should do a good job showing where I’ll take them in the future.

The main focus is perception—or, more accurately, the nature of perceived systems, as they exist within the mind and manifest within (seemingly) external registers. But rather than attempting to definitively isolate the formation of semiotic structures (even Roland Barths, Jacques Lacan, Umberto Eco, Levi-Straus, etc, succeed only in mapping the parameters of a limited model, when an infinite number of models exist), I treat them as continuously morphing abstract surfaces relevant solely to perspective, in various subliminal states.

Consciousness, I’ve been increasingly inclined to believe, is the passive modulation of unconscious function, in which self (illusory awareness of process, reshaped depending on context—node in a societal matrix, receptacle of experience, whatever—at even its most basic levels) is a secondary reactive construct, indirectly regulating input/output modules. This is basically Homuncular Functionalism, but the key difference is the necessity of perspective (or at least, its illusion), by which object becomes subject, creating represented space.

I’ve been really interested in representation recently (it was the subject of my eighth novel, Green Lights/Purity of Vision, which I just finished… last week), and to properly understand my position, I should clarity my view on it. Foucault (who hardly ever talked about pure philosophy, but dedicated a chapter to it in The Order of Things) sums it up best: for the perceiver, there is only representation, manifest in phenomenological qualities. Language, of course, is representation of a representation (of the represented); and it is upon this framework that we construct our society, transforming every action and object to referents within a formless, continuously fluctuating matrix; or, quite simply, a simulacrum, perceived (in inoculated fragments) from a perspective that is always singular. Information itself is a simulacrum; or, at the very least, relative to perception.

I aim to consider, beyond signification, our own role as interpretive fields. One of the most important things I have to emphasize is that, because of perception, there is only the individual; because existence is experience solely through perspective, there is no such thing as a group of people, but an array of singularities, equidistant. (If anything, this can only be expressed in binary, so that 3 becomes 111, or 1+1+1, but there is never any equation, because demographics are a delusion.) Another thing I’d like to investigate is the contrast between physicality and ideas—one of the things that makes ethics so difficult, particularly for me, because ideas are models of reality, and not reality itself. If moral qualities exist (and I believe they do, in a sense), it is only relative to perception; but because we are inseparable from perception, they are inevitably inseparable from us. The same is true, to a certain extent—this theory I’m less sure about—of mathematics: 1+1 will always equal 2, but quantity is essentially an observation of patterns expressed numerically, that are not in themselves numerical. Also, I’d like to touch on gender studies, critical theory, and of course, do some in depth investigations of time (which, more and more, I’m convinced doesn’t exist—in this case, I have quite a few arguments, and I’m not sure which to choose), alongside a variety of other topics. Most likely I’m going to use an informal structure, mingling essay with some kind of pseudo-narrative (to illustrate concepts in an actuated, maybe even emotive context), erratically juxtaposed, utilizing literary language for occasional emphasis, and maybe even a little poetry, too. The only problem is that I’m not generally an essayist, and I have doubts about my ability to sustain a piece that long—but the end result should be interesting, though I’m less interested in truth than the aesthetic of thought itself, which is why I work philosophical models into my fiction.

Quick words on digressive genetics, evil capitalists, and Mark A. Rayner

This book surprised me--no, I mean it really surprised me. In the first chapter, monkeys and a Kimono dragon crash a wedding, send an old lady to the hospital, and generally succeed in making you laugh very, very hard.

This is a whole new kind of Crossing Chaos novel. Even more than Vital Fluid, it forgoes elaborate textual mechanics, but still succeeds in telling a complex, dynamic story: an organic one. (The aesthetic text is many things, but let me just say, it is not natural). Some really interesting concepts make their way in there as well; and like I said, it's very, very funny.

This is a story of the digression from man to primate--actually, no it's not. Instead, the narrative is delivered from what might seem (but isn't) a secondary perspective. Mostly, a bunch of really cool people hang out, fall in love, do acid, drink alcohol, have illicit sex, cross-generational sex, vendetta sex, and... monkey sex? There are evil businessmen, drug dealers, thugs, katanas, clove cigarettes, and ghosts. (Yup, ghosts.)

One of my favorite things about this book is how natural it all feels. Having finished it, I have trouble believing that, in some form or another, the characters don't exist (excepting Shute--I know he exists). There are some really poignant moments in there, often at extremely unexpected times, which makes them more poignant still. The ideas are good, and most importantly, fresh.

If you're interested, you can win a free copy (or appear in Mark's next book). Check here for more information... I think it's a pretty good deal.

http://markarayner.com/archives/368

New Story in Saucytooth's

A new story of mine, "Waiting For the Rain," is available on Saucytooth's Webthology alongside some of the most interesting authors writing today, including Forrest Aguirre, Steve Aylett, and V. Ulea.

http://www.crossingchaos.com/Saucytooth_Webthology.html

Sometimes. Fucking. Never.

Is one of those rare books I can't criticize so much as rave about. I'll admit, for the first time with a Crossing Chaos novel, I had a few doubt going into it. In general, I'm more interested in work that renovates form than work that destroys it--it didn't help that there was a Kenji Siratori quote on the back.

But God, was I fucking wrong.

Sometimes Never is one of the most stunning peices of avante-garde science fiction ever written. It's something like what you would get if you combined Kathy Acker, the aforementioned Kenji Siratori, and added some of the word-play from Finnegan's Wake alongside some serious philosophical/metaphysical dimension--then an aesthetic of cracking glass.

This is seriously one of the most exhilerating, impressive things I've ever read. Seriously. If I'd known what it was sooner (originally I didn't know there was an actual novel in there--in context, the first twenty pages of "noise" proves extremely effective, but I wouldn't want over a hundred pages of it), I would have bought it a long time ago.

Beyond this point, there isn't much that can be articulated; rather, it needs to be experienced. Embrace the noise. It is most certainly not empty.

My writing

I realized I haven't talked about it at all yet, so here's an update on the status of my current projects:

Sunshine In the Valley: Sixth novel. Metaphysical fantasy about a village surrounded by living walls. I sent this out to a few publishers until I realized I wasn't happy with the draft--my main idea was to convey an inconceivable time and place, and then I realized a few Americanisms had crept in. I'm going to get rid of them, tighten the structure a bit, and try again. It's the only of my recent novels in which the plot can be understood, though it's by far the most complex. At some point I'm going to write a sequel that has absolute nothing to do with it.

The Life, Times, and Tragedy of Edward William Locke the Third: Meta-text; examination of literary theory; postmodern chronicle; exercise in character study (in which nothing in learned); extremely surreal, with extensive influence from avante-garde theater; like I said, extremely surreal; treatise on history and time. I just finished it about a week ago, so the last chapters are in a really shitty draft right now, but I really like this. I've wanted to write this character for years now (without realizing it), and it felt really good finally to get the chance. Also, since it's technically historical fiction rather fantasy--or magical realism, I suppose--I'll have an easier time pitching it to literary publishers.

Absence: Still doesn't work quite right. Possibly it contains the best writing I've ever done, but I made the mistake of writing a mosiac novel (even though I hate mosaic novels). I thought it would be cute to write a novel (loosely) about the Christian that was completely devoid of Christian symbols but was instead full of ideas from philosophy, particularly Descartes and Spinoza. It has some really fucking cool ideas in it but a horrible treatment of homosexuality and revolution. I've tried writing around them until I finally relized I would have to write over them.

The Reawakening: is set to be rewritten as a short story six to ten thousand words long. It's gonna be fucking awesome.

Green Lights/Purity of Vision: Tentative title for novel number eight. It's going to be completely different from anything else I've ever done before--a contemporary novel about... life, with actual likable characters--though with an equal degree of formal innovation. I have a really cool structure in mind: all of divided into six to eight sections, each named after a color (with some colors repeating), in which the components of reality alter according to the color, with some characters getting taken out, others getting replaced completely, and some gigantic shifts in time and place. (Did I mention... surreal?)

I've also got quite a few short stories (and one experimental play) showing up in small publications in the next few months. I'll post links here when they come out. Then, of course, I have two stories in Quantum Genre On the Planet of the Arts--and next summer... Voices.

Michael Cisco: Outlining An Aesthetic Register

I've had an interesting relationship to the works of Michael Cisco. Originally I came across The Divinity Student on Amazon and thought it looked amazing--except that edition was out of print, and so I forgot about it. A few weeks later I found another reference to his work, checked out his website, and immediately bought every novel he'd written. This is a bad habit of mine (as my post concerning China Meiville probably conveys), but the results were much more positive than they often are. I spread my readings out over the space of a few months--completing The Divinity Student twice--and finally got around to the The Tyrant this week.

I can't help but be disappointed in the lack of criticism dedicated to Cisco--really, there isn't any, as most reviewers are so intimidated by the language they emphasize nothing but how different they are. I certainly wouldn't disagree with this, but I think they fail to identify even the most prominent aesthetic stratum on display--and when discussing Cisco, that means you haven't said anything at all. This isn't a conclusive essay in any sense--certainly, an informal one--but I hope to penetrate at least a bit within this territory.

Cisco is undoubtedly one of the foremost stylists within speculative fiction. His works feature horror overtones within a number fantastic contexts, leaning heavily towards the surreal. Based on the prominence of images in his work, and position within independent lit, I'd place him next to Zoran Zivkovic and Forrest Aguirre despite their dissimilarities (seriously... this has nothing to do with Leviathan--seriously), and perhaps make some yet more distant comparisons to M. John Harrison or Carlos Fuentes in Terra Nostra. Cisco seems to be extensively influenced be Burroughs (obviously I can't say for sure--anyway, this takes place within a framework of reapplication rather than imitation), particularly if he undertook a brief course in Faulknerian sentence structure....

Imaginative fiction, particularly the New Weird, is the literature of synthesis. Cisco embodies this more than any other author I've seen--and among them, he's probably the one I enjoy most. The Divinity Student and The Traitor are nearly masterpieces--his others noticeably less so, but I get the feeling he's yet to write his definitive piece. It seems like people only pay attention to The Divinity Student... hopefully at some point this will change, even if I'd agree in saying that, at this point, it's probably his best. (If they made a movie on it he could become the next Anthony Burgess....)

Cisco seems concerned primarily with phenomena beyond (perhaps beneath) the realm of articulation. Actions manifest as associations rather than definite psychological objects. Due to his punctuation schemata, the prose is like a sequence of iron bars, pulsing with electricity, featuring fairly consistent internal mechanics and a prominent sense of authorial disassociation, occasionally with a hint of a scientific tone. Possibly I'm taking my above theory too far, but this allows associations to be presented as they are experienced: indistinct within the greater perceptual unit.

Also, I'm going to try real quickly to dispel the notion of similarities between Cisco and Wolfe. I've read every novel by both (next to Delany, Wolfe is my favorite science fiction author, so I'm almost an authority on this). Although the two both feature a significant diversion from the conventions of speculative fiction, that's about as far as it goes.... The Divinity Student (a stoic male character) and the architecture of San Venificio recall The Book of the New Sun a little bit, but... not really, and the mechanics of their fiction are so disparate as to be nearly incompatible. Wolfe operates primarily upon a medium of omission, so that his novels are like majestic broken machines--conveying (as an intellectual construct, only after a greater sense of the pages has been obtained) the obscurity immediately apparent within the first page of any Cisco novel--and generally complex (note my abstract use of the term) in an entirely different manner.

On another note, as someone who never, ever reads horror, a number of the images in Cisco strike me as gaudy, even when their presentation is not... but the absence of a certain problem makes up for it entirely: Wolfe is a fairly serious right-winger (and it shows), whereas the undertones of nihilism, anarchism, and misanthropy that inform Cisco's work place him on the exact opposite side of the spectrum. Considering his chosen genre--in which these ideas are often decorative at best--its not surprising to find them here, and he does a decent job presenting them; but interestingly, they're featured in the protagonists.

Cisco's books almost present themselves as studies in isolation, portraying characters who are terminally cut off from society, their energy channeled into one or another occupations (excepting only The Golem, in which this becomes a journey): therefore, in a spiritual sense, his characters are all artists.... Not that you can blame him. Really, it's impossible to be an author producing admirable material (or really, an intellectual of any sort) without being a bit of a misanthrope--as well, we experience a similar sense of distance from the cities that populate these works.

Anyway, in conclusion, while his work isn't perfect (not that I pretend to be his perfect reader--like a said, I never read horror, and I'm only passably interested in darkness, be it visual, psychological, or metaphysical), Michael Cisco is undoubtedly one of the most interesting authors working in English right now. I am, of course, immediately biased towards anyone applying sophisticated styles to the fantastic--but you can't go wrong in checking him out, whether to expand your sense of language or to witness the extent imagination can be taken to.