Chart / July

The big news this month: I finished the second draft of Mekong Lights before Heat Wave Number II turned me into a puddle. I now have that cast-adrift feeling that I get every time I finish a draft, like everything is possible but the energy required to boot up Word and turn a blank page into a new story is simply not there. It is, though; I’ll just have to dig deep to find it.

I wrote a little piece about climate guilt for We Don’t Have Time, which was published on Medium and received a nice boost from the platform when they decided to spotlight it. In terms of reviews, Tony Jones at Horror DNA offered a kickass one, calling By the Feet of Men “a thoughtful and inventive addition to the environmental apocalyptic genre”, which is cool, as well as a request from Diamond at Biblioculus to turn the story into a trilogy. Probably need to sell some copies first.

Not a lot of music this month, which I attribute to spending too much time working:

1. Freddie Gibbs/Madlib - Situations

2. ROSALÍA - Aute Cuture

3. Janelle Monáe - Django Jane

4. Whitney - Giving Up

5. Caroline Polachek - Door

6. Sakanaction - 新宝島

7. Four Tet - Dreamer

8. Ride - Future Love

9. Fatima/Floating Points - Mind

And a shout-out to the album Caligula by LINGUA IGNOTA, which is fucking terrifying from start to finish.

pins.

Interview with Klimat:ekot about By the Feet of Men

When I was at the We Don’t Have Time climate conference back in sunny April, I had an interview with the journalist Elin Leyonberg for Klimat:ekot, a podcast about climate change. We talked about how fiction can help to convey the fears surrounding global warming, how it differs from scientific communication and why dystopian fiction is important. I also gave a hot take on By the Feet of Men, incorrectly said that Walden was written in the 1700s, stitched up my parents and literally said the words “framework on which to hang ideas”. Then I disappeared up myself.

Check out nine minutes of a smiling guy in a polo neck below.

(PS: I’m sorry for slamming you, Berlin artists. My answer was off the cuff, arrogant and presumptive. In penance, I’ll attend all your exhibitions and look at all your photos of your friends with asymmetrical haircuts doing moody poses in your whitewashed bedroom.)