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ENGL 6040: VanderMeer Keynote (SP22)

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(post)<br />

The end is nigh. <br />

The end is now. <br />

The end was already.


7 “What version is this?”<br />

<br />

7 “Zero. It’s version zero.” <br />

7 “Do you trust me?” <br />

7 “I do.” <br />

7 “I will.”<br />

<br />

7 “Even when I’m not me.” <br />

7 “I will, Moss.” <br />

0 “And I will always be there.” <br />

Even before I know you. <br />

Even after I’ve known you. <br />

Even then.<br />

7 “Do you love me?”<br />

<br />

7 “I do.”<br />

<br />

7 “Hold on to me, then.”


“<br />

One can only do justice to space travel by<br />

recognizing it as—beyond the motives of<br />

individual agents—a key d i s c i p l i n e o f<br />

experimental anthropology: it is the hardest<br />

school of naïveté-breaking procedures with<br />

regard to the human condition, for through its<br />

radically eccentric replacement formations for<br />

the coexistence of humans with their own kind<br />

and others in a shared whole it enforces an<br />

unrelenting spelling course for even the smallest<br />

details of the immanence machine (Sloterdijk<br />

301).<br />

Kathleen Neeley for Subterranean Press<br />

(post)


(post) reading<br />

(post) theory<br />

“<br />

It wasn’t Charlie X’s fault, in a way, even though it<br />

was all his fault. Charlie X just thought in the old<br />

ways. Plants couldn’t feel pain, animals were<br />

objects to be manipulated as products or<br />

resources. Because he didn’t see the systems the<br />

way Moss came see the systems. Because he<br />

thought soft tech should serve the same master<br />

as hard tech before it (<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 96).<br />

(post)


iterations<br />

nonhumans<br />

contaminations<br />

joys<br />

Kathleen Neeley for Subterranean Press<br />

(post)


Drawing Dead Astronauts<br />

1. Pick one of the focal points below<br />

2. Locate a resonant scene or moment in the novel<br />

3. Compose an illustration that transduces that moment<br />

or scene with/in line, shape, texture, form, space, color<br />

and value <br />

4. Share your illustration [Drive]<br />

iterations versions nonhumans actors contaminations leaks joys …<br />

(post)


iterations<br />

“<br />

The compass that does not know its name. The<br />

map that does not know its borders. The journey<br />

in search of a destination (<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 313).<br />

(post)


iterations<br />

“<br />

They had failed in the last City, and the one before<br />

that, and the one before that. Sometimes that<br />

failure pushed the needle farther. Sometimes that<br />

failure changed not a thing. But perhaps one day<br />

a certain kind of failure might be enough<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 3).<br />

Sylvia Wynter cities Frantz Fanon: ”I am willing to<br />

work on the psychoanalytical level—in other<br />

words, the level of the 'failures,' in the sense in<br />

which one speaks of engine failures.” To which<br />

Wynter adds, “For it is at this level that certain<br />

discoveries can be made” (Wynter, “Towards the<br />

{Sociogenic Principle” 37).<br />

(post)


(post) york<br />

revisited<br />

“<br />

But by the same token, this repetition is precisely a part of what has always<br />

interested me, that is, how does a formal repetition allow us to capture beings<br />

that are otherwise inaccessible (Latour 9)?<br />

(post)


iterations<br />

“<br />

History would go on without her, the Compnay<br />

and the foxes, and all the rest. And yet on it went.<br />

Their quest, in some form. Even without them. The<br />

future would still be the future, in some form.<br />

Until the dead astronaut grew old. Or until the end<br />

of the world. Whichever came first (<strong>VanderMeer</strong><br />

319).<br />

It involves no progress and no solution because<br />

nothing is broken for what comes. That is what life<br />

{after aftermath is (Robertson 157).<br />

(post)


iterations<br />

“<br />

Real enough was the anchor that kept them from<br />

falling apart. Through all the versions<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 16).<br />

(post)


iterations<br />

“<br />

Things that can be said. Things that can’t be said.<br />

You know them both. Still the smokestacks belch<br />

smoke. Still you tunnel under the bridge, you will<br />

never be quit of the place. You will never be quit.<br />

You will live always, even when you don’t. You will<br />

never have the right to decide or to understand.<br />

You will only have the right to help or not help.<br />

Through all the versions. Yourself. Not yourself<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 203).<br />

(post)


nonhumans<br />

“<br />

You want. Things to be words. That are not<br />

words. Could never be words. Your fox is some<br />

other construct. We did not agree to that. We do<br />

not call ourselves foxes. A thing you created that<br />

is not me. To think an autopsy was a person. To<br />

think a dissection meant a type of mind. If I went<br />

rummaging through your carcass, would I find you<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 258)?<br />

(post)


nonhumans<br />

“<br />

In this City, as in all Cities, the three knew they<br />

would find the foxes. Moss loved the foxes, while<br />

Grayson suspected them—thought them already<br />

too clever, believed, perhaps, the foxes had led to<br />

their failures, as much as the insidious nature of<br />

the Company had. <br />

Chen had no opinion, for in his calculation<br />

the foxes must always be part of the plan. So he<br />

wasted no emotion on them one way or the other<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 27).<br />

(post)


nonhumans<br />

“<br />

The Company never sang to Behemoth, asked<br />

nothing of him except that he devour. In this way,<br />

Behemoth read the ripples he left behind, the<br />

rings. Knew thereby he was the lord of the water.<br />

Free. To eat. To sleep. To shit. To pull himself back<br />

and forth between the holding ponds. As if<br />

Behemoth had been made to describe such a<br />

path until the end of days (<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 131).<br />

(post)


nonhumans<br />

“<br />

This was the story: Over all the forest beyond their<br />

home and the little shed, over all of it. Over all.<br />

Ruled the forest mind. Which seemed to slumber<br />

and not remember and be simple. To be made of<br />

earth and trees and clouds and birds. But was<br />

actually awake in a way no person could be<br />

awake. Slumber that was not sleep. Mind that was<br />

not mind. A person could never imprison that<br />

mind, only destroy parts of it, bit by bit. But as<br />

long as even a small piece remained, it could<br />

never die. Would never die. <br />

Might save you to save itself or, in the end,<br />

might not even notice you small and huddled<br />

against the wall of a tunnel (<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 184).<br />

(post)


contaminations<br />

“<br />

Dead astronauts were no different than living<br />

astronauts. Neither could shed their skin. Neither<br />

could ever become part of what they journeyed<br />

through. Suits were premade coffins. Space was<br />

the grave. Better to think of yourself as dead<br />

already. There was freedom in that; liberated the<br />

mind to roam quadrants farther than the body<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 106).<br />

(post)


contaminations<br />

con (together with) + tangĕre (to touch)<br />

“<br />

Read once that salamanders can be poisoned by<br />

touch. How any oil or soap, any unnatural thing<br />

can hurt them. That you can hurt by touch. That<br />

you can hurt another living being just by<br />

existing in the world. Just by passing through the<br />

world. That is all. That is all. Panic, wanting to pull<br />

away, to preserve, to avoid causing damage<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 186)<br />

What did contamination mean in this city, and<br />

which way did it flow (<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 45)?<br />

{Everything was contaminated. Nothing was<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 45).<br />

(post)


“Life in the Broken Places” (Jeff <strong>VanderMeer</strong> + FSG)<br />

(post)


contaminations<br />

“<br />

It had to be translated on either side, strained<br />

through layers, halting, pushing forward.<br />

Sometimes what translated into supposed words<br />

was emotion or reaction. Approximates that had<br />

to be trusted in the moment, before these<br />

approximates became slippery and escaped into<br />

the mire. Because the translation was a kind of<br />

virus, and Moss trusted she was infecting the fish<br />

and not the fish Moss.<br />

<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 66)<br />

(post)


contaminations<br />

“<br />

Moss was letting the blue fox into her mind. The<br />

farther into that labyrinth the fox explored, the<br />

more of the gift the fox would receive. For it<br />

would understand their mission, gain more<br />

understanding of the Company, and also see how<br />

the foxes had helped them across so many Cities.<br />

That was the hope. <br />

(What bled through, into the head? Where<br />

did they travel all unknowing? This in Moss’s mind<br />

as disturbance, registering in Chen as a<br />

possibility: v.2.1 = 2.2 + 2.3 + 3.0 + the things that<br />

could pull a mind apart if examined close up.)<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 28)<br />

(post)


joys<br />

“<br />

Such joy in the sight. So much joy you feel that<br />

the pain leaves you for a time. To see a river that is<br />

full of wriggling red bodies. Tiny eyes so bright,<br />

staring as one at you, and then swept downriver.<br />

Changing the river, changing this world. A river<br />

aflame. Dispersed and disbanded and yet ever<br />

stronger in that fragmented state (<strong>VanderMeer</strong><br />

201).<br />

(post)


v.7.0<br />

“The desert foxes, snapping their jaws and joyous,<br />

ate up what was left of Moss. They gamboled and<br />

leapt across the mist and meadow of her corpse<br />

and devoured her bit by bit (<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 108).<br />

joys<br />

Loss of bounded self is only truly horrifying within<br />

an anthropocentric framework that prizes human<br />

being in its current state over all other forms and<br />

ways of being. Active self-annihilation might,<br />

paradoxically, offer a path toward ecosystemic {preservation (Wilk 13).<br />

(post)


joys<br />

“<br />

The joy of running, The joy of digging. The joy of<br />

hunting earthworms through the dirt . The joy of<br />

the wind against fur. The joy of muddy paws. The<br />

joy of sleeping next to mate and kits. The joy of<br />

climbing trees. The joy of swimming in streams.<br />

The joy of mating and raising children. The joy of<br />

dining burrows. The joy of playing in meadows.<br />

The joy of snapping at fireflies at dusk. The joy of<br />

napping on smooth stones, on moss, on beds of<br />

ferns. The joy of the warmth on fur. We lived in joy,<br />

the joy of living without interference, without<br />

persecution, without unnatural threat. The joy of<br />

running (<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 294).<br />

(post)


“<br />

But, in the end, joy cannot fend off evil. <br />

Joy can only remind you why you fight<br />

(<strong>VanderMeer</strong> 301).<br />

joys<br />

(post)


(post)<br />

The end is nigh. <br />

The end is now. <br />

The end was already.

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