After
a
decade
away,
Jeff
VanderMeer
is
heading
back
into
Area
X.
In
2014,
the
author
released
all
three
parts
of
the
Southern
Reach
trilogy
over
the
span
of
just
a
few
months,
and
the
series
became
a
breakout
hit;
the
first
was
even
adapted
into
a
Hollywood
film
from
director
Alex
Garland.
Starting
with
Annihilation
and
culminating
with
Acceptance,
the
books
told
the
story
of
an
abandoned
coastal
area
that
had
become
reclaimed
—
and
forever
changed
—
by
a
mysterious
phenomenon
known
as
Area
X
and
the
secret
agency
attempting
to
understand
and
contain
it.
The
trilogy
solidified
VanderMeer’s
particular
style
of
surreal
sci-fi
and
environmental
activism,
and
in
the
intervening
years,
he’s
explored
similar
themes
in
novels
like
Borne,
Dead
Astronauts,
and
Hummingbird
Salamander.
But
there
were
questions
that
always
lingered
after
Acceptance.
And
while
he
had
been
thinking
about
a
potential
new
Southern
Reach
book
since
2017,
it
wasn’t
until
2023
that
all
of
the
pieces
fell
into
place.
That
book
would
turn
into
Absolution,
a
prequel
that’s
out
on
October
22nd.
It’s
split
into
three
parts
and
largely
follows
two
characters
from
the
original
trilogy:
Old
Jim,
a
resident
of
the
abandoned
village
in
Area
X,
and
Lowry,
sole
survivor
of
the
first
expedition
into
the
phenomenon.
The
book
is
haunting,
strange,
and
disturbingly
funny
(just
wait
until
you
meet
the
carnivorous
rabbits).
Ahead
of
Absolution’s
release,
I
had
the
chance
to
talk
to
VanderMeer
about
why
he
had
to
come
back
to
the
Southern
Reach
saga
and
how
it
all
came
together
so
quickly.
This
interview
has
been
edited
for
length
and
clarity.
You
wrote
Absolution
in
six
months.
How
does
that
compare
to
your
typical
writing
experience?
I’ve
started
writing
novels
later
and
later,
which
lets
me
think
about
it
more
because
I’m
more
relaxed
about
it
now.
I’ve
realized,
the
longer
I
think
about
something,
the
more
fully
formed
it
is
on
the
page
when
I
write
it.
I’d
been
thinking
about
Absolution
since
2017,
and
then
lightning
struck
on
July
31st
of
last
year.
I
woke
up
and
had
the
whole
idea
in
my
head:
the
characters;
the
interplay
of
the
three
sections;
how
they
were
going
to
be
written.
And
I
just
started
writing.
I
didn’t
stop
until
December
31st.
It
was
like
having
inspiration
after
inspiration.
I
wrote
morning,
noon,
and
night
—
which
is
unusual
for
me.
I
usually
write
in
the
mornings.
I
woke
up,
in
a
sense,
on
December
31st,
and
I
had
a
final
draft:
150,000
words.
That
was
pretty
intense.
It
was
exhausting.
I
kind
of
put
the
rest
of
my
life
on
hold
to
do
it.
It
was
incredibly
satisfying.
I’d
hunkered
down
for
covid
and
hadn’t
written
a
novel
since
Hummingbird
Salamander
in
late
2020,
so
I
think
I
was
really
ready
to
write
something.
Did
you
take
a
break
after
that
at
least?
I
basically
just
did
nothing.
My
brain
kind
of
shut
down
for
a
couple
of
weeks.
And
then
I
told
my
editor,
“Well,
this
novel
is
done.
I
know
it’s
kind
of
unexpected.
Do
you
want
to
try
to
put
it
out
next
year?”
And
he
was
like,
“Yeah!”
That’s
something
I’ve
always
been
really
good
about:
unusual
publishing
schedules.
We
found
ways
to
move
up
the
preproduction
stuff
so
it
could
get
done
without
cutting
any
quality
corners.
With
the
Southern
Reach
trilogy
coming
out
in
such
quick
succession,
you
didn’t
have
to
worry
much
about
the
kinds
of
expectations
that
come
with
following
up
a
big
hit.
Here,
you
have
10
years’
worth
of
demand.
How
do
you
deal
with
that?
Honestly,
it’s
been
liberating.
So
many
people
have
read
this
series,
which
is
basically
about
ambiguity
and
the
unknowability
of
the
universe,
and
completed
the
story
in
their
heads
and
really
engaged
with
their
imaginations.
I
had
a
lot
of
freedom.
I
didn’t
think
about
the
pressure
of
that.
I
just
felt
that
they’ve
given
me
permission
to
go
for
it.
And
even
when
I
posted
excerpts,
the
readers
who
responded
were
so
thoughtful,
so
positive,
and
so
caring
about
my
creativity,
to
the
point
of
not
wanting
to
say
something
that
might
mess
with
what
I
was
writing.
They
were
just
excited
there
was
going
to
be
more.
It
was
this
unique
situation
where
it
definitely
could’ve
been
pressure-filled,
but
in
fact,
it
was
actually
the
opposite.
How
do
you
know
when
the
moment
is
right
to
take
one
of
those
gestating
ideas
and
fully
turn
it
into
a
novel?
Here,
it
was
useful
that
I
had
this
really
abrupt
and
amazing…
I
don’t
even
really
know
how
to
describe
it.
In
writing
workshops,
they
want
you
to
answer
questions
about
craft.
And
sometimes,
it’s
literally,
“I
had
a
dream
and
I
ran
with
it.”
How
do
you
give
advice
like
that?
And
how
do
you
talk
about
it?
In
terms
of
the
structure
of
the
piece,
the
fact
that
Old
Jim
was
a
character
throughout
in
some
guise
or
mode
really
helped
because
there’s
this
mystery
involving
him
and
Central
that,
as
I’m
writing,
I
started
writing
all
three
parts
at
once.
And
I
keep
going
back
and
forth.
A
lot
of
Absolution
is
meant
to
make
readers
feel
disoriented.
I
wonder
how
you
think
about
balancing
that
feeling
with
still
being
comprehensible.
One
thing
that
readers
have
taught
me
is
that
they
reread
these
books.
So,
for
example,
I
saw
a
lot
of
reevaluations
of
Authority
and
people
saying
that
they
saw
the
humor
in
it
on
a
second
read
as
they
got
ready
for
Absolution.
Here,
first
of
all,
I’m
trusting
the
reader,
and
secondly,
every
word
counts:
every
sentence,
every
paragraph.
There’s
not
a
single
word
in
there
that
isn’t
intentional.
The
answers
to
a
lot
of
things
are
right
there
in
plain
sight.
The
disorientation
is
that,
in
creating
a
sense
of
claustrophobia
or
unease
because
of
what’s
happening,
some
of
that
may
not
come
through
on
the
first
reading.
But
I
don’t
actually
think
these
books
are
that
surreal
or
weird
—
especially
this
one,
which
is
more
of
a
fun,
weird
point
of
view.
But
that’s
up
to
readers.
Now
that
you’ve
written
it,
do
you
feel
that
this
is
really
the
end
of
the
series?
Are
you
satisfied
with
where
you
ended
up?
I
think
so.
I
was
grappling
at
one
point
with
how
I
would
tell
the
story
after
Acceptance.
The
solution
in
my
subconscious
was
Absolution,
which
is
something
that’s
both
a
prequel
and,
sneakily,
a
sequel
and
also
contiguous
with
the
events
in
the
first
three
books.
That
is
also
what
sparked
my
imagination.
This
way
of
doing
something
that
is
visceral
and
lives
in
the
body,
which
is
always
very
important
to
me,
and
that
expands
the
story
without
answering
every
mystery,
which
I
think
would
also
be
a
mistake
for
a
series
that’s
grappling
with
the
unknowable.
As
for
something
in
the
future,
it
would
have
to
be
similarly
clothed
in
the
tactile.
You
look
at
a
series
like
Dune,
which
I
love
parts
of,
but
as
you
get
to
the
later
books,
they
become
much
more
abstract
and
less
grounded
in
specific
detail.
And
while
that
creates
some
interesting
effects,
it
also
means
that
a
series
can
become
airless.
I
never
want
it
to
become
that.
So,
for
right
now,
I
do
believe
this
is
the
last
of
the
Southern
Reach.
1/3
Image:
Farrar,
Straus
and
Giroux
I
read
an
interview
after
Hummingbird
Salamander
came
out
where
you
said
you
still
had
two
novels
you
wanted
to
write.
Is
that
still
where
you’re
at?
It’s
funny
because
I’ll
always
mention
something,
and
then
it
won’t
turn
out
with
the
same
chronology.
What
happened
with
Hummingbird
Salamander
is
that
there
were
several
other
books
that
I
started,
like
Borne,
where
I
started
it
one
year
and
then
finished
it
five
years
later.
I
realize
there’s
something
missing
in
my
own
experience
of
life
that
I
need
to
get
from
somewhere
else
or
that
I
need
to
live
my
life
for
a
few
years
and
I
get
it.
Or
there’s
some
other
question
that
my
subconscious
is
grappling
with.
I
think
those
books
are
probably
still
on
the
table,
and
they’re
probably
next.
Again,
it’s
kind
of
liberating.
You
write
something
longhand
in
a
journal,
and
you
get
maybe
30,000–40,000
words
of
it,
and
you
don’t
feel
any
compulsion
to
finish
it
at
the
time.
And
then
you
can
revisit
it
and
reimagine
it
when
you
want
to,
but
you
still
have
all
of
this
material
to
work
with.
I
like
that
approach
a
lot,
having
a
lot
of
things
half-finished,
because
I
don’t
get
writer’s
block.
I
just
go
with
the
thing
that’s
most
inspiring,
and
that
tends
to
work.
That
sounds
so
stressful.
An
attribute
of
Angela
Carter’s
that
I
admired
is
that
she
always
went
for
it.
I
think
that’s
really
important.
It’s
really
important
to
always
go
for
it
and
not
be
worried
about
failure.
Honestly,
if
one
of
these
novels,
somehow
before
it
got
typed
up,
I
lost
it
or
it
burned
or
something,
I’d
just
write
something
else.
I’ve
learned
to
let
go
of
worrying
about
that
kind
of
stuff,
and
that’s
been
very
useful
in
terms
of
having
confidence
in
writing.
Comments