All Things Pankish

Ask the Author: David Peak

Today, Guy Brookshire talks with David Peak, author of Helping Hands, about the meditative properties of trains, New York, violence and writing.

1) Why do you get your best thinking done on the train?

I’m kind of spacey in general, so there’s something about the repetitive noise and the swaying motions of subway travel that’s conducive to productive thought. I like to catch glimpses of unflattering behavior: nose-picking, throwing elbows to get a seat. Sometimes you catch a line of dialogue out of context that grabs your attention, for whatever reason. You never know. Subways, to me, are the most interesting parts of any major city.

2) What is the effect of New York City on the science fiction imagination?

That’s a good question. I love being on Manhattan and thinking about the idea that it’s an island, not really that far removed from the Atlantic Ocean–that it’s essentially a city built atop cities. There are so many layers to the underground geography, so many tunnels, a vast network connecting the five boroughs. It’s enough to unleash anyone’s imagination.

3) Who writes better (science, magical) fiction: Kurt Vonnegut or Jorge Borges? I guess some people wouldn’t consider Borges science fiction, or Vonnegut magical, but so what?

I’m not all that wild about Vonnegut, to be honest. I read maybe ten of his novels when I was seventeen and haven’t revisited him since. His books tend to run together in my memory, maybe because they’re written in a similar voice and rely heavily on that voice to move the story forward.

On the other hand, I really love Borges–particularly his work with the concepts of labyrinths & libraries. That stuff kills me. In fact, a lot of those concepts, in one way or another, make it into my writing.

I’m not really sure what science-fiction is, exactly. I don’t really like to read books about killer robots or whatever. To me, science fiction can be found in almost anything. I mean, the world is a pretty demented, frightening place. But it’s also magical. Sci-fi is really about working out a personal philosophy for how things work beneath the surface, exploring different concepts of reality, as opposed to some Campbell-mythology derivative bullshit.

Forget everything I just said. My answer to this question is Stanislaw Lem.

4) What is one obvious cultural difference between Michigan and New York? How long does someone live in New York before becoming a New Yorker?

New York is rife with entitlement. Michigan always felt like it was end of the earth. Growing up there, I always had this sense of being forgotten by the rest of the world. Maybe I was just particularly sensitive to that, or maybe that’s not true. But there are nights in the heart of a Michigan winter, when it’s pitch-black outside and twenty below and you’re just like, “Jesus, where the fuck am I?”

It takes about a week of commuting before the novelty wears off and you become a real New Yorker. When the eighth person cuts in front of you “on” line at the ATM and you finally just break and say “Yo! What the fuck?” Then you’ve arrived. You might as well buy a Yankees cap.

5) Is violence in a city somehow more abstracted than violence in the suburbs?

Damn, that’s a good question. City violence can be so spontaneous. There are so many external factors that people are exposed to each day, things that can rile a person up without them ever even being aware. That’s part of what inspired my chapbook Museum of Fucked. There’s so much stimulation in an urban environment. People lash out at one another because of projections, mis-directed anger.

The suburbs, I think, are less like one big environment and more like lots of little environments, sub-divisions and single-family homes and yards and shit, that like turn inward and feed on themselves. Violence in the suburbs seems like it rises up from within, a slow boil–families tearing themselves apart, that kind of thing.

I can’t imagine ever being attacked unprovoked walking down the “wrong” street in the suburbs. But I guess that probably does happen.

6) Please describe a pleasurable Saturday night out on the town.

A poetry reading. Beer afterward. Maybe live music later on–something aggressive or drone-y. Mexican food. Episodes of Futurama. Sleep.

7) What word(s) do you hate to see in print? What words do you hate to hear spoken?

The answer to both is “folks.”

8.) Do you think it is immoral to clone human beings? Why?

I think there are enough human beings already. Like, my girlfriend and I recently rolled up our carpet and dropped it on the sidewalk outside of our building. It was garbage day. We wanted to throw it away. That was a month ago. A few nights ago I saw our carpet back outside our building. Somebody must have taken it, brought it back inside, then decided to throw it out again.

New York is in the middle of a bed bug pandemic, I know people don’t like to talk about it, but it’s true–you can’t ignore it. So the fact that these people were bringing our rug back into their apartment, risking bringing an infestation into WHERE I LIVE, infuriates me.

I mean, seriously. What if every time you cloned a person it came out dumber than the original, like that movie Multiplicity? Then everyone would be dragging rolled-up rugs from the street into their apartments and we’d all die from stupidity or something. Just like keel over dead because we didn’t remember math, or have any collective common sense.

9) When was the last time you remember running from someone?

I don’t run from people. I face them.

10) Have you ever been forced to admit that an idea you very strongly believed in was false?

I often struggle with maintaining all of core beliefs. That’s really all I can say. It’s a struggle. Everything is.