Taylor Anderson Interview, Part One

Taylor Anderson has made a recent splash on the science fiction scene with his novel Destroyermen: Into the Storm. This is the first novel of a projected trilogy about a group of World War II era sailors who find themselves on an alternate Earth. I mentioned in my review earlier this week that this is one of the must-read novels of the year.

Taylor, also a native Texan, has graciously agreed to spend a couple of days with us to talk about his novel, his writing, and his hobbies. He is an interesting person with a diverse list of skills. Through the course of our interview, our conversation meanders around the topics of writing, naval combat, and period artillery.

With no further ado, I give you Taylor Anderson.

Taylor, thanks for agreeing to do the interview!

It is absolutely my pleasure.

The “castaways in time/alternate universe” plot has been written many times before, but what I love about your novel is that you take a very unique perspective to the whole idea. What made you choose the setting that you did?

That’s a very good question, and there’s not really a simple answer. Much of the decision was driven by the unique, and in most people’s minds, already exotic nature of the setting. Even in “this” world, Borneo – and all of Indonesia – is a fascinating, primordial place of exquisite beauty, mystery, and potential danger. New species are often found there even today. The entire region, including the relatively shallow sea within the Malay Barrier, is like an island surrounded by abyssal depths. Besides the fact that it is a “path less trodden” in a literary sense, the possibilities for alternative evolution there are limitless.

Most of the decision however, was driven by historical context. I wrote about this in some detail in an essay for ROC, which is also featured on my Website; www.taylorandersonauthor.com The odyssey of the U.S. Asiatic Fleet – another obscure element of the story – is the “frying pan” from which the characters leap into the “fire,” and the former Dutch East Indies is where that fleet met its ultimate fate.

You weave several disparate elements together–fantasy, science fiction, and military adventure, creating a seamless mix. What influenced this mixture? Is there a work of fiction that had a particular impact on your work?

I love all three of the “elements” you listed and I guess it just never occurred to me that they should be mutually exclusive. Maybe you don’t see them all lumped together very often, though, and that may be why some people seem a little confused when trying to categorize the series. What influenced the mixture? Beyond my own interest in the various genres, I’m not really sure. I will readily admit I am a big fan of Steve Stirling, but I also love the work of Patrick O’Brian, Larry Niven, Herman Melville, Allan Eckert, Homer, David Weber, H.G. Wells, Bernard Cornwell, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, David Drake, Bernard DeVoto. . . Gosh, I don’t know. Maybe I mixed them all up.

Do you think that this lack of easy categorization ultimately helps or harms you? (In my case, I can say that I found the mix both refreshing and charming, but I long ago learned that others don’t necessarily share my tastes.)

On the whole, I think it has helped. I may have offended a few “genre purists,” but the vast majority of the feedback I get is positive. I most often hear that, like you, readers find it “refreshing.” In that respect, I think I’m in good company. Bernard DeVoto wrote some of my very favorite histories, yet in his time, he was vilified by many “traditional” historians for writing in a readable, entertaining, literary style. Today, DeVoto’s work is still widely read and appreciated, while many of those who attacked him are forgotten. I won’t compare the style or quality of my work to Bernard DeVoto, but a friend of mine, Stephen Hardin has his “flair,” I think. One of his books, “Texian Illiad,” is not only highly entertaining, but is – in my view – the definitive book on the Texas War for Independednce.

Why pick a World War I era destroyer as the crucible for your characters?

Again, much of the decision was based on historical context. “Four-stackers” were about all there was left, particularly toward the end. The cruisers that were there, Houston, Boise, Marblehead, Exeter, Perth – not to mention the Dutch cruisers – all had well-documented careers and, in most cases, dramatic ends. I could have “added” one, like I did the destroyers in the story, but another cruiser in the right place at the right time might have made some small difference. Two more old four stackers couldn’t have.

Despite that, I was also determined to use real ships for a number of reasons. Most obvious of these was, having chosen four-stackers, it would have looked silly to just tack extra numbers onto the end of the class, and besides, those numbers were given to later, more modern ships that had “wartime” records. I felt that using any such ships with real combat careers – on which veterans alive today might have served – would have been disrespectful. I decided to use ships that could have actually been there if they hadn’t already been scrapped, or otherwise disposed of. The ships I chose, USS Walker (DD-163) and USS Mahan (DD-102) had distinguished, but short, careers. I didn’t think any old destroyermen who might have served aboard either one would begrudge them a little longer, fictional, life.

I was also motivated by a sense of irony, I think. The old four-stacker destroyers epitomize the “Alamo-like” situation faced by the Asiatic Fleet at the outbreak of WWII. They were worn-out, under-gunned, almost useless antiques, compared to their Japanese adversaries. They were utterly expendable. For a couple of them to survive the impossible odds stacked against them before “The Squall,” only to become – on another world – the most modern, powerful ships known to their crews or the creatures they meet, appealed to my sense of irony.

What made you cast the mammalian species as the “good” guys and the reptilian species as the “bad” guys?

It certainly wasn’t bigotry (I like lizards) and I don’t think I was really influenced by other works as much as my own carefully considered opinions (I won’t say “theories”) regarding what types of societies the two species might evolve. Besides, after only a single installment in a longer tale – an installment in which the primary quest of the characters is to discover what they face – I will taunt you with a tiny hint: who says all the mammals are “good” and all the reptiles are “bad?”

That’s an interesting direction to take. When you decided to build the societies that you did, what types of research did you do? Did you try to match the Lemurians to primitive human societies, or did you feel free to create them with only your imagination to limit you?

For the most part, Lemurians are a product of my imagination, but there are some occasional similarities to early human civilizations. Humanity’s roots are so diverse, it would be almost impossible for there not to be. As far as the Grik are concerned, as readers learn more about them, they may discover a number of parallels. I think I’ll let them see if they can figure out what they are.

Many authors invest a bit of themselves into a character (or characters) in their novels. Who, in this book, is your doppelganger? Do you wish that it was someone different?

That’s a tough question. Most of the characters are at least loosely based on people I know (they know who they are,) but in every case, they are also composites. No one character is based on any one person. I suppose the same is true regarding any characters I may have somehow . . . influenced myself. For example, I like to think that in a similar situation, I would behave like Captain Reddy. He probably displays a little of my own, grown-up, more thoughtful philosophy, and since I was “in his head” the most, I probably fashioned his reactions to certain things to reflect that.

I do enjoy banter however, and there was a time when I couldn’t have refused an opportunity to play a – mostly harmless, I assure you – prank. There might be a little of me in Dennis Silva too . . . although he is mostly . . . someone else.

Do you tell the people that you based the characters on know that they have a shadow in a fictional universe somewhere? If they do know, do you think that people are flattered when you use their personality as a rough outline for a character sketch? I’ve talked to several brand-new writers (or writers struggling to break in to the business) and this is usually a hot topic of debate.

I can see how that might cause debate, but in my case, generally, they do know. They also know those characters are composites – composites of real people with radically different backgrounds whom I have known for twenty or thirty years. I may have been a teacher, but I’m certainly no academic. My wild variety of pursuits over the years – fully immersed in the “deep end of the pool”- have given me the opportunity to meet an equally wild variety of people. Some have been quite “wild” themselves. I’m always amazed how people from such diverse backgrounds can work together in complete harmony to accomplish a common goal. War brings that quality to the surface, certainly, but so can other things. I think “using” them for inspiration adds a lot to the authenticity of the characters, as does their cheerful input regarding how “they” would react to similar situations.

The technical details of both the combat and the operation of the ship are rendered in exquisite detail. In your opinion, does it help to be passionate about a subject (as you obviously are) to put that kind of realism into your writing?

Absolutely. Passion is essential, and so is research. In fact, I don’t see how you can “do” one without the other. I’m sure I’ve made a bundle of technical errors – there are no four-stackers left to study after all – but I am passionate about learning. I even built a huge scale model of a four-stacker so I could “see” what the characters could “see” from wherever they might be standing on the ship. I learned a long time ago that you can read everything ever written about a subject, a battle for instance, but you will never truly understand it unless you view the ground. It’s the same with ships. Since there aren’t any four-stackers left, I had to make one.

I have explored ships of similar size and draft. The few remaining old DE’s are perhaps the closest. I have talked with veterans and studied the construction of the battleship Texas, which is about our last remaining example of that era of naval architecture. I have sailed the seas and I have fired cannons of every description. Having accumulated as much knowledge as I could, it was much easier to write with passion, because I am passionate about the things I experienced to gain the knowledge.

The novel is very character driven. I’ve noticed that some alternate history novels tend to sacrifice character development for clever plotting or at the expense of setting. What made you choose this style over the other? Did you have to fight the urge to stay inside Lt. Commander Reddy’s noggin?

Sometimes, but not too often. It would have been much easier to tell the story from a single perspective, but I think it would have been impossible to do it well. So much is constantly going on aboard any ship – particularly one such as those depicted in the series, with all their battle damage, aches and pains, grunts and groans . . . No matter how competent a captain may be, he simply can’t be everywhere, doing everything, all at once. Even on a ship as relatively small and uncomplicated as Walker. And Walker is very much a character in her own right, kind of like a primitive, dilapidated, Starship Enterprise. She can’t tell a story from her own perspective, but those tasked to maintain and operate her can, in a way.

That’s an excellent point. In some worlds, portions of the setting can become a character on its own. At one particular point in the novel, one of the sailors watch Walker sail away and remarks that it is his “home.” Is this something you set out to do, or is it the natural reaction of sailors to their ship?

Both. In addition to members of other branches (and one in particular) I have known a lot of Navy men. All are “attached” in some way to ships they have served on because, regardless of what they thought of them, for a time, they were “home.” I have seen guys who never had a kind word to say about a ship get misty-eyed when they describe her loss, or even hear she has gone to the breakers.

Few of the men in “Into the Storm” could possibly be satisfied with their ship’s capabilities, but she is their home, and even as they do their best to keep her afloat and ready to fight, you always kind of get the sense she’s doing her best for them.

Another choice you make is to use an ensemble cast, rather than focusing specifically on one point of view. Lt. Commander Reddy’s character is interesting enough that you could have easily chosen differently. What made you take the path that you did?

I decided before I wrote the first word that this story couldn’t be told from a single point of view. That’s why the series is called “Destroyermen.” As the title suggests, the story is about not only Captain Reddy, the Lemurians, a ship, or even really just the adventures they have. It’s about ordinary, somewhat worldly, but conversely extremely insular men (and women) called upon to achieve extraordinary things. Some of them aren’t up to it, but the majority – just like they historically were – are. They come from different backgrounds and have wildly different attitudes and personalities. Some are downright weird – or at least eccentric. But somehow, given all that, they manage to work together (for the most part) and survive in a situation beyond their wildest imagining.

Then, of course, you have the “Lemurians.” There is an inevitable period of confusion and “getting to know each other,” but without their perspective, as pivotal as they are, not only would readers have difficulty ever understanding them, but they become crucial, ultimately, to understanding the destroyermen themselves.

But what of the Grik? I have been asked why I chose not to “flesh” them out more in “Into the Storm.” The answer is simple. Neither the human destroyermen nor their Lemurian friends know very much about them. There are ancient legends and tales passed down, as much by word of mouth as anything, that give the humans, Lemurians and readers all the information there IS about the Grik in the first book. Is it fair, or more importantly, exciting and compelling, for readers to know more about the “mysterious enemy” than the characters do themselves? All Captain Reddy and the rest ever really know in the first book is how little they actually know – a frustration they are grimly familiar with after their Asiatic Fleet experience.

Ultimately, when it is appropriate, the Grik will be “fleshed out,” and readers will come to know slightly more than the characters do – through the eyes of the Grik themselves.

Come back next week (Friday, August 8th) for the conclusion of the interview! Taylor will talk about his days as a script consultant and his experience with firing period artillery pieces.