I love that science fiction has ideas or themes that recur and recur. Ideas like “first contact” or “the grandfather paradox”, “alien invasion” or “the Fermi paradox”. Each writer brings something new to the idea, some new twist or wrinkle that gives your brain that little kick that sets it quivering. Of course some of these ideas (“tropes” they are often called – although I have no idea why) have been done to death (think “post-apocalyptic survival”, or “new starship crewman earns her stripes”) and it often seems as if nothing new in the world can be added to these jaded themes (until some exciting new writer gives one or other of them a thrilling shake-up). But the stories keep being retold down the years because these are themes that touch on our deepest fears and hopes. Are we alone in the Universe? If only we could go back and make the past right! Would I have what it takes to survive? What is out there beyond the farthest horizon?
The human condition is a peculiar one. While we are the masters of incredible power and knowledge as a species, as individuals we sit isolated and scared inside the domes of our skulls, peering out with trepidation at a world we can barely grasp. And some of the scariest things about that world outside are the other people we have to interact with – people we need to help us survive, people who have strange powers over us, people who can make us happy or miserable with the twitch of a facial muscle. I remember being a child and being unable to understand the other children around me – let alone the adults who controlled and succoured me. Were they good or bad? Would they be nice to me or hurt me? The answer, on any particular day, often seemed arbitrary.
Is it any wonder then that one of the great “tropes” in sci-fi (as in other literary genres) has been the secret appropriation of people’s identities. How scary is it when someone you know, someone you love, has been replaced by a complete stranger? They look the same, they may even sound and smell the same, but you know that someone else is inside them. From Jack Finney’s, The Body Snatchers, to Stephanie Myer’s, The Host, the idea of alien creatures that inhabit the bodies of our neighbours, friends and family has been a powerful source of disturbing fiction. As a style of invasion, it is insidious, creepy and quintessentially alien.
My own contribution to this idea is my upcoming novel, Mindrider. Written from the perspective of the invading parasite, it is a story that adds several new twists to the old trope. It was a challenging story to write in many ways – and I made it worse for myself by making the invading parasite the hero, and doing it all in first-person, present tense. I must admit to a certain genre-envy when it comes to urban fantasy. I loved the vampire stories by Anne Rice with a passion. There is something about the idea of gothic horrors, living here in our modern cities, that is both chilling and exciting, and I’ve always wanted to write a story that had that element. Well, Mindrider is it. Urban sci-fi, if you like. It has monsters, dragons, body-snatching aliens, fear, and even a little horror. Yet, it is real science fiction – nothing supernatural, no magic, just good old science and technology. As I said, challenging.
I’ve just put Mindrider up for pre-order on the major retail sites (Amazon, Kobo, Smashwords, with many more to come – if you’re waiting for the Apple iBookstore, please be patient). One of the great things about having written an “urban sci-fi” novel is that I can use the kind of cover imagery normally reserved for urban fantasy novels – dragons, hooded men, dark shadows, obscure symbols… the works. And, with the collusion of my cover designer, I did just that. So, scroll down a way and take a look. What do you think? Too much? Not enough? Be sure to let me know.
