Rob Zeigler is a writer who sports a slick haircut and an even better view of the outdoors in Northern Colorado. He’s the author of Seed (REVIEW) , an ‘ecopunk’ story of ethics, military men (and women) and genetically engineered resources in the American countryside which Publisher’s Weekly called an “impressive debut”. Looking through the mirror, I’d have to agree. This book is one that came entirely out of left field, because, for as far I know, it is the only publicly written thing from him that I have found.
Which, my dear readers, is why I asked Rob to pop by and talk about himself, what he wanted to achieve with Seed, and future projects. Enjoy.
Hello, Rob. Thanks for taking some time to stop by and do this interview.
Thanks for having me.
You pretty much came out of the blue with SEED. You have very little (from what I can see) published short works to your name, so can you give readers an idea of who you are and what you write?
I can see why it seems that way. I haven’t tried to publish much. But my experience is that it’s been a long road. I’ve been dedicated to fiction writing for nearly twenty years. It became a focus for me back in college, and I’ve been working at it ever since. Only in the last couple of years have I reached a point where I want people to read my stuff. Seed is actually the third book I’ve written, just the first one I’ve liked enough to carry through to something resembling completion.
Your debut novel has been described as “a military version of The Windup Girl”. Is this an apt description?
Any comparison with Bacigalupi is flattering. He’s a fantastic writer, and The Windup Girl is an amazing novel. And there are similarities, with the bio-engineering tropes and whatnot. But I view Seed as a quintessentially American book. Even though it’s sci fi, it’s really a western, Brood’s story in particular. It’s about the changing landscape of the American west, literally and culturally. At the book’s heart is a belief in the importance of the individual. I wanted there to be a sense that it was vital for this kid to stay true to his moral compass, even in the face of hard necessity. I wanted those moments when he veers off course to feel tragic, and for small moments of self-sacrifice to feel triumphant. I wanted there to be sense, too, of loneliness in the midst big, wide open spaces, and for that to echo this sort of quixotic notion of disenfranchised people being able to face down situations much larger than themselves. To my mind, these sensibilities are very American, and core to Seed’s aesthetic. So if I were to choose a book for comparison, I’d hope that at its best moments Seed remind people of a military sci fi, bio-engineered version of… All the Pretty Horses, maybe? But with railguns.
Huh. If I hadn’t already read Seed, I would buy that in an instant.
You must consider yourself pretty lucky to have such a snazzy cover. How much input did have in the creation of the cover? Was Nightshade always high on your list for potential publishers?
Cody Tilson did the cover, and I LOVE it. It’s gorgeous, and visually I think it really nails Seed’s vibe. The folks at Night Shade were kind enough to show me the first version of the design before they went forward with it. My input consisted of… well, I think I just laughed and did the happy dance for a minute or two. Then I emailed Night Shade with something like, “Yeah, that looks okay I guess.”
Night Shade was definitely high on my list. I knew a couple of folks who had books with them, and they both had good things to say. Night Shade’s tastes tend towards the uncompromising, and odd, so I figured we might make a match. It was also really important to me—and this probably isn’t the sort of thing I should worry about—but after all the work of writing it, I wanted Seed to become a beautiful object, physically. And Night Shade does make beautiful books. That definitely factored in to my choosing them.
Bradley Beaulieu described your book as another addition to “ecopunk”. Is that even the right word for it?
“Ecopunk” probably describes aspects of the story, certainly some of its underpinning values. Other descriptors might be…Spaghettipunk. Commandopunk. Postapocalyptipunk.
I particularly enjoyed your emphasis on people scraping by in the wastes, by showing the DIY details of people splicing automotive parts together, or designing devices to help them survive. It gave a very convincing guts and glue feel to it all. Do you have any knowledge/expertise with construction, and was it a conscious move to make it like this?
Alas, I am not a renaissance man. I barely know how to use a screwdriver. I did a lot of research on photovaltaics, auto mechanics, stuff like that. Some stuff I just made up as I was writing it. It was important to me to make that world feel real. I’m really glad you think it worked.
Seed is set in as grim a future as any, but very little do the characters reflect on wanting to go back to the way it was, or even how exactly they got there in the first place; almost a grudging acceptance of sorts. Why did you choose to make this focus on the present, rather than reminisce or try to explain the past?
Two of the POVs have no experience with the old world. Brood is too young to have any real memories of a time before the migrations began, except a few of his mother, which are dreamlike and very far from his reality. And Sumedha, he exists in a different world entirely. Both of these characters are, I guess, stuck dealing with very immediate problems which demand the entirety of their focus.
For Doss, though, the loss of the old world weighs heavily. Her emotional arc is largely about her coming to terms with the fact that the old world can’t be saved. Her country, as she believes in it, is…going, going, gone. Hers is the story of coping with that tragedy.
The book is comprised of three distinct character palettes. Can you go into how these characters came to be created?
Each inhabits a very specific world, all of which are different from one another, and all of which I knew I wanted to braid together. Doss, obviously, was born in the land of military sci fi. Brood is the badland outlaw from westerns of yore. Sumedha represents an idea I’ve been toying with for years, of human organization as living organism—in this case, the corporation. Those were my POVs from the beginning. The story I figured out as I moved with them deeper into the book.
In my review, I mentioned how Sumedha was a bit of a cipher, mostly because he acts differently, almost alien-like, from how ordinary people act, and I wasn’t exactly sure what his intentions were. If it’s okay with you, can you talk about him a bit, and attempt to put my uncertainty to rest?
You’re exactly right. Sumedha doesn’t act quite like an ordinary person, because he isn’t one. He’s a genetic construct. He’s designed for a strange kind of pure mentation. He’s also incredibly sheltered. So when the story deals him a heavy emotional blow, he lacks the humanity to handle it sanely. Without giving too much away, his story is one of descent.
I also like the notion that genre writers are introducing a more diverse portrayal of cultures and ethnicities into their stories. To state a few, Lauren Beuke’s South African Zinzi December in Zoo City, Nnedi Okorafor’s Onyesonwu from Who Fears Death, Paolo Bacigalupi’s non-Anglophone setting, and your own use of the Hispanic and African American perspectives with Brood and Sienna. Why’d you decide to be part of this, and why do you think it’s important to introduce these perspectives?
To my mind, the perspectives in Seed are very American. Ethnic and cultural diversity are core to this country’s make up. In Seed, I just wanted to reflect that.
Paolo Bacigalupi (yeah, that guy) recently said on Twitter that “ if science fiction isn’t deeply worried about our present, it should be taken out and shot.” What are your thoughts on this?
That makes me smile. And, mostly, I agree with him. If ever there was a time when we needed to face our shit, it’s now. So for my part, I certainly attempt to use the problems of our day to inform the themes in my stories.
But sci fi is also entertainment. Sometimes it doesn’t need to be more than that. I, for one, enjoy my space opera, without guilt.
Cody Tilson's for Greg Egan's "hard" space novel, The Clockwork Rocket
What is Rob Zeigler planning next?
I’m working on another book, which I hope to have finished by spring. It’s about a kid coming of age in a strange, future LA, where media and reality are mostly indistinguishable from one another. A Trainspotting meets Fahrenheit 451 sort of a deal.
Finally, to cap off this interview, what things of significance have you been reading, watching, playing, and listening to in the world of entertainment? Hopefully not as grim as what you have written, for your health and our safety.
Playing Left 4 Dead is about as dangerous as my life gets. I play a little Total War, too, and some Baldur’s Gate. That’s about it for games. As far as what I’m watching, these days I’m enjoying Californication, Justified, Mad Men. The Walking Dead also hooked me this season. For reading, I just finished Charles Bowden’s Murder City. I’m in the middle of Margaret Atwood’s Year of the Flood (amazing), and The Big Short by Michael Lewis. I’m pretty much always rereading Gibson’s Mona Lisa Overdrive and Already Dead by Dennis Johnson. And I just started No Hero by Jonathan Wood, a compadre at Night Shade. My plate is full.
Thanks again, Rob, for doing this interview!
My pleasure. Thank you.
