Page 43 - Reader's House Magazine Issue 52

his career. Whether you are a longtime fan or a newcomer to his work, prepare to be inspired by one of the most original voices in modern speculative fiction.
Your works have often been compared to Jack Vance’s; what is it about his writing that particularly resonated with you as a young reader?
I was thirteen, out on a farm with no book- mobile. I read anything I could get my hands on, including science fiction paperbacks my eldest brother left lying around. I read “The Dragon Masters” in Galaxy Magazine and was captured immediately. The premise was fascinating, and the plot moved quickly, but I think what caught me was what I can only call the coolness of the mood. That resonates with me still.
“Henchmen” features two characters navigating morally ambiguous situations— what interests you about exploring ethical complexity in your storytelling?
I am, at heart, a crime writer. I fell into writing specfic by a series of flukes. A
minor streak of criminality runs through my extended family, so when characters emerge from the back of my head, they tend to be on that side of the blanket. Also, I came of age in the 1960s, when antiheroes were all the rage. They seem to have stuck with me.
Matthew Hughes is a literary genius, seamlessly blending wit, adventure, and rich storytelling across fantasy, crime, and science fiction genres.
How did your previous career as a speechwriter influence your approach to crafting dialogue and narrative structure in fiction?
I spent decades writing for the voice, so
I’m comfortable straddling the middle ground between formal prose and the way people ac- tually talk. Good dialogue exists in that space.
I suppose I developed an innate sense of narrative structure from reading all my life, everything from Hemingway to Thorne Smith. Then, in my thirties, I spent some time as a script reader for Telefilm Canada and devel- oped an understanding of story mechanics.
You’ve travelled extensively as a housesitter; how has experiencing different cultures directly impacted your world-building and character creation?
It’s taught me that the little things make the difference. Like, if you’re sitting in an Italian dentist’s waiting room with other patients and a new one comes in, he will say Buon giorno to the group and they will all answer back. In
Canada, we’re liable to call a waiter “buddy.” In France, you had better say, “Monsieur” unless you want something unwholesome in your soup.
“Henchmen” blends classic fantasy elements with your distinct sense of humour—how do you balance these tones while maintaining narrative tension?
Intuitively, I suppose. I have a sense of rhythm that tells me when to insert a little lightness. Also, my characters seem to have inherited from me a sense of irony.
Your novels often feature complex societies and layered intrigues; how extensively do you plan your novels before beginning to write?
Not at all. I’m a pure-bred pantser. I start with a character, give him/her a problem, then see how they react. Other characters come into the action, with their own agendas, and I see where it goes. It all happens organically.
I’m writing a space opera right now. I sent the main character back to the world he fled from twenty-some years before. The back- story that has emerged as I push the action forward actually surprised me. I still don’t know, a third the way through, how it’s going to end.
You’ve achieved recognition across multiple genres and mediums—what drives you to continue pushing boundaries in your writing?
Do I? As I say, I’m a crime writer, so I write about thieves, forgers, burglars, hench- men, because they populate the back pastures of my mind. I think of myself as a decidedly old-fashioned kind of author, writing SF and fantasy that would have been publishable in the pulps and paperbacks of decades ago.
What practical advice would you give
to other authors who aspire to build a sustainable career in speculative fiction?
Only the most generic, I’m afraid. I have not read science fiction or fantasy, except
for Jack Vance and Gene Wolfe, since the mid-eighties. I have no idea what’s current in the field today.
So the best advice I can give is: don’t write plots and try to slot characters into them. You’ll end up with a lame puppet show. Story comes out of character and plot comes out of story.
To demonstrate: last August, Fantasy Mag- azine published a little story of mine called “What’s in a Name?” It’s a retelling of a classic fairy tale, but because it’s told from the point of view of a central character different from the original, it’s a completely different story.
Vunt, a gambler, and Oldo, a farm boy, take a suspiciously well- paid warehouse job, uncovering criminal activity. Drawn into espionage for the Vanderoy wizards’ Guild, they become caravan guards, navigating a perilous journey through magical cities, the Underworld, and dangerous schemes, facing powerful sorcerers and uncovering deep, hidden mysteries.
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