Jeff VanderMeer discusses his writing process, the Southern Reach trilogy, and his latest projects.

Transmission 153: Interview with Jeff VanderMeer

Jeff VanderMeer is an author and editor who writes fiction at the intersection of science fiction, fantasy, and the weird.  His work often explores the complex relationship between humanity and the natural world, leading to strange and sometimes unsettling discoveries.  He is best known for the Southern Reach trilogy, a series of novels that investigate the mysteries of Area X, a mysterious and possibly alien zone. VanderMeer’s imagination isn’t confined to Area X, however. His other novels, including Borne, Hummingbird Salamander, and Dead Astronauts, imagine futures shaped by biotechnology, environmental collapse, and the emergence of bizarre new lifeforms. VanderMeer has edited numerous influential anthologies, including The New Weird, The Weird, and The Big Book of Science Fiction, often in collaboration with his wife, Ann VanderMeer.

Jeff Vandermeer’s official site

How did your early experiences in the Fiji Islands influence your imagination and your writing style?

I think the extreme beauty and amount of nature definitely influenced what I write about. And then, actually having a lot of allergies and asthma was kind of a counterpoint of anxiety that juxtaposed with the beauty of the place. I think that’s one reason why I started to write—to kind of make sense of being in a beautiful place but often feeling terrible. So, yeah, it was definitely a formative experience.

What led you to experiment with self-publishing early in your career, and how has that shaped your perspective on the publishing industry today?

I think early on, I was already running a publishing company, so self-publishing my first collection made sense. I was already publishing other people’s work in chapbooks and small books, and I also didn’t think I was ready to send out a manuscript to a larger publisher. It felt like a good experiment and a good way to dip my toe in. That, along with running a publishing company, of course, teaches you a lot about the book business, which is then helpful when you’re published by a larger publisher—fewer things feel surprising or new to you.  

What was the creative process behind building the intricate world of the imaginary city of Ambergris?  

I think, in part, I was trying to make sense of not having a sense of place because we traveled so much. I didn’t feel comfortable writing about any real-world place, but I did feel comfortable putting elements of those places together in this imaginary city I created. I was also fascinated by historical theory, history in general, and the idea of creating a place that was almost a character—something that had a real influence or effect on people’s lives. And then, to show the sweep of history through a hundred years of stories and novels set in that place.  

What was your involvement in Alex Garland’s adaptation of Annihilation, and how did the film’s vision align with your own?

I didn’t really have much to do with the film. In retrospect, that might have been a mistake if I wanted it to be faithful to the book. But I do believe that when someone is adapting my work or riffing on it in some way, they should have the freedom to realize their own vision. I think the movie is successful on its own terms, but it doesn’t reflect much of the book itself, except for a handful of scenes. 

My biggest complaint might be some movie reviewers saying there was no way to adapt the novel faithfully because it’s too surreal, when in fact, I think the novel has some very interesting decision points that could have made the plot of the movie more compelling.

How has ecofiction evolved as a theme in your work, and what role does it play in your latest projects, particularly in light of recent events?  

I think it’s interesting because I was naturally writing about nature and the environment, especially in Annihilation. It just happened to be published at a time when many people were talking about the climate crisis, and climate fiction was becoming more prominent. As a result, it became caught up in that conversation, even though in some ways, it’s not really about the climate crisis. There are elements in it that can be seen as metaphors for the climate crisis. I’d say I became more intentional in writing about the climate crisis and the environment after the reaction to those first three books.

You could say that my novels Hummingbird Salamander, Dead Astronauts, and Borne are much more intentionally about the environment and the climate crisis, partly because of how reviewers and readers interpreted the Southern Reach trilogy. Also, when I spoke to environmental science classes about Annihilation, some students would say, ‘I like this book, but I’d like something more direct about the climate crisis.’ That got my subconscious thinking about how to be more direct without being didactic, which eventually led to the later novels.

What challenges did you face in revisiting the Southern Reach universe nearly a decade after its initial release?  

I think, thankfully, the readers of the first three books were so generous and enthusiastically applied their imaginations to the mystery, filling in with their own sense of creative play, that I didn’t feel a lot of pressure writing Absolution. I felt more a sense of freedom and, with a fourth book and an established readership, the ability to just go for it. So, it’s actually not, as The New York Times described, the weirdest book I’ve ever written. It’s the book with the most uncanny elements in it—and probably more horror than the prior books.

In part, I think that’s because the world has become more horrific since the books were first released. So, I didn’t really feel any pressure; I just had a lot of fun writing it. 

How did the decision to make Absolution both a prequel and sequel to the Southern Reach series shape its structure and narrative tone?  

I hadn’t written a sequel to the original three books because I didn’t think it was possible to show what the world—or parts of the world—would be like if Area X expanded. I thought it would be so alien that it would go beyond the ability of language to convey. I didn’t want to do something that felt ill-conceived.

But when I thought of Absolution and its three interlocking parts, it suddenly occurred to me that there was a way to show the future beyond Acceptance—the third book in the Southern Reach trilogy—while also creating a novel that was continuous with those events and preceded the events in the first three books. That was very exciting for me. It felt like I had found a way, a mechanism, or a vessel to convey the future of Area X in this one novel that also serves as a prequel. That was extremely energizing for me, and it’s kind of a very sneaky novel in that regard.

How do you approach integrating science fiction, myth, and postmodern elements into works like Borne?  

Well, I think postmodern technique, when applied to non-realist fiction, often supports the reality of the fantastical or imaginary world you’re creating. It makes it feel less experimental or self-conscious to some degree. I find that interesting, but I approach it from having studied and read a lot of previously experimental realistic fiction—whether it’s someone like Perec with A Void or any number of other writers considered postmodern, experimental, or self-conscious, where the technique stands out more.

What interests me is taking a technique that, in a different context, would seem very apparent and non-traditional and placing it in a context where it might even become invisible. For example, there’s a lot of experimental technique in Absolution that’s hopefully invisible to the reader. It’s meant to enhance a subtextual experience or evoke a particular feeling—unease, dread, or some other emotion. I like to think that the novels, especially the recent ones, have a subliminal effect on the reader, where they can’t quite pinpoint why they’re feeling what they’re feeling. It’s often the result of applying a technique or element of craft in a way that hasn’t been done before, or at least rarely.

What can readers expect from your forthcoming projects?

Well, I’m working on a sequence I call The Strange Architect Sequence, which will likely consist of four or five novels. It follows an architect whose daughter disappears, and he becomes convinced she’s somewhere in the spirit world. He essentially loses his mind and his career trying to find her by building different kinds of houses, each with the same strange symbol on the landing of the stairs between two levels.

Each novel is set in a different house he’s built and features a completely different plotline, but minor characters reappear as major ones in the other novels. I think the solution to the mystery at the end is pretty mind-blowing and something I haven’t seen done in fiction before. I’m enjoying writing them because they’re short—about the length of Annihilation—so they’re really like long novellas, which I think is a great form for weird fiction.

They also happen to be written in a modern idiom, which is a nice contrast to the pseudo-Baroque or psychedelic elements of Absolution. For me, it’s been a refreshing change. 

Matteo Damiani

Matteo Damiani is an Italian photographer and author. Curator of the sites Retrofuturista.com; weirditaly.com; china-underground.com and others