I am allowed to say this, because I’m the author: this book is bonkers. It’s a murder mystery about the dissolution of objective reality, set in what may or may not be an alternate-reality iteration of California.
Like UNDERGROUND AIRLINES, and like the books in my Last Policeman trilogy, this new one is sort of in the shape of a mystery novel, but it has elements that may make some readers consider it science-fiction. It’s also a little philosophical, a little political, a little poetic, a little sad, a little funny.
Whatever it is, I am VERY proud of it, and excited for you to read it.
This is the official description from the publisher, which is better than mine and should have gone first:
In a strange alternate society that values law and truth above all else, Laszlo Ratesic is a nineteen-year veteran of the Speculative Service. He lives in the Golden State, a nation standing where California once did, a place where like-minded Americans retreated after the erosion of truth and the spread of lies made public life and governance impossible.
In the Golden State, knowingly contradicting the truth is the greatest crime–and stopping those crimes is Laz’s job. In its service, he is one of the few individuals permitted to harbor untruths, to “speculate” on what might have happened. But the Golden State is less a paradise than its name might suggest. To monitor, verify, and enforce the truth requires a veritable panopticon of surveillance and recording. And when those in control of the facts twist them for nefarious means, the Speculators are the only ones with the power to fight back.
& here are some very nice quotes from early readers:
“A perfectly poised ontological-thriller-comedy-dystopian-allegorical-page-turner, yet with tenderly real characters in its chewy center, this turned out to be just the thing I was looking for.”—Jonathan Lethem, author of Fortress of Solitude
“Not many writers would take on Orwell, Ray Bradbury, the nature of truth, and the current administration all at a blow. Big shoes to fill–and they fit Ben H. Winters just fine. Golden Stategrabs notions of disinformation and literalism and brilliantly turns them on their head to see what falls from their pockets.”—James Sallis, author of Drive
“Golden State is a prescient, devastating commentary on humanity’s disintegrating attachment to reality and truth, expertly-told through the prism of a police-procedural, dystopian nightmare. Winters has written a 1984 for the 21st Century. Not just a thrilling book, but an important one.” —Blake Crouch, author of Dark Matter
“The author of the Last Policeman trilogy and the stand-alone Underground Airlines (2016) adds another thought-provoking, genre-bending SF thriller to his bibliography. . . . Another fine novel from a writer whose imagination knows no bounds.”—Booklist
“A skillful and swift-moving concoction . . . For those who like their dystopias with a dash of humor. No lie.”—Kirkus Reviews
You can preorder GOLDEN STATE here, or here — that link goes to Walmart.com, because I think it’s wild that you can buy my book there — or here, or just save up until January 22 and march into your favorite bookstore to buy a copy like an old-fashioned person.
This is the paperback edition of Underground Airlines, whichcame to my house today and which can be in your house, if you’re interested, on July 18.
There is generally about a year between the publication of a book and the arrival of the softcover, and for any work that deals with political or other time-sensitive themes, one only hopes that you have not been mooted by subsequent events.
For Underground Airlines, the themes and ideas have, tragically, only become more relevant. My novel, as I’ve written elsewhere, was an attempt to dramatize the ways that the legacy of American slavery still informs our lives today; how we are still living with this brutal inheritance.
This is not a truth that has changed since I wrote the book.
I said when the book came out that it was “an alternate history that wasn’t alternate enough.” Now, sadly, a year out from publication, that is even truer than it was.
So, anyway—though obviously I would love it if everyone would go out and buy the book, I thought I would use this space and time to highlight some institutions, related to the novel’s themes, worthy of continued attention and support.
The Movement for Black Livesis an umbrella group, comprising a wide range of organizations fighting for equality and justice for black Americans.
At publication I got some shit on the internet for being a white man writing a novel about slavery with a black narrator—especially after a NYT profile called me “fearless” for doing so. The silver lining, for me, was that I ended up having a lot of thoughtful conversations with a lot of very smart people, many of whom pointed to the work of We Need Diverse Books, addressing systemic racism in the publishing industry.
Finally, crucially, give to the Democratic party. Support your local progressive candidates. And look, I know, we liberals aren’t perfect either, and ending the Trump era will not usher us into the utopian future we deserve, but it sure will be a step in the right direction.
Anyone who has read Underground Airlines and wants more elucidation of the book’s prime underlying thesis — that the institutions and attitudes formed during the long years of American slavery still inform our treatment of black citizens (to often brutal and deadly effect) — should read this article, by Jamelle Bouie in Slate.
“Before the Civil War, Southern whites held a pathological fear of slave revolts, despite lauding slavery as a ‘positive good.’,” he writes. “That fear led slaveholding states to create patrols, made up of white men in the community, who would enforce slave codes, with legal authority to capture runaways, interrogate enslaved people, and punish them if necessary. Scholars see these slave patrols as one forerunner to modern police departments…”
You should read the whole thing.
Where we come from is who we are; what we become is up to us.
the 2017 Southern Book Prize from the Southern Independent Booksellers Association (in the “thriller” category),
and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award for Best Science Fiction Novel of the Year (where other finalists include Nisi Shawl’s Everfair and Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad, both of which I can heartily recommend).
The below is an edited version of a Q&A between myself and a group of high school students in Katy, Texas:
Was [SPOILER REDACTED] kept a secret intentionally (planned from the beginning), or did the story develop in such a way that his death made sense?
It was always my intention, once I knew [SPOILER REDACTED], to delay the revelation of that truth until pretty late in the story. I played around with where exactly the reader would encounter this piece of information, but I was aware of it from pretty early on in my process, and I always knew I was going to hold off and let it be something that the reader encounters somewhere late in the story.
My process tends to be that when I first get an idea, I write a whole bunch really fast, when I still have the big fire of it burning hot, and then when that fire starts to cool a little I spent some time outlining, so then when I go back to the draft I have given myself a road map. But then as soon as I start writing again a bunch of new stuff happens I didn’t anticipate, so the outline becomes moot, so then I go back and re-do the outline; the whole process repeats over and over again as I go. There is a lot of false starts and doubling back and rethinking and re-writing, even before I get to a coherent “first draft”.
What were your intentions when writing this book?
To use my ability as an artist—and specifically as a thriller/mystery novelist—to approach what is a longstanding and widespread national crisis, i.e. systemic racism in a wide variety of American institutions. I’ve said this elsewhere, but I hope people understand this the book is not me creating this terrible dystopian version of America just to use as an interesting backdrop for a mystery. To the contrary, the goal is to use my skill as a mystery writer to approach what I consider to be our most pressing national issue; a way to ask why the hell are we still living with these institutions and attitudes that were born in the time of slavery?
In earlier drafts, how did the story end?
There were drafts of this that continued past the existing ending; there were drafts that ended much earlier. There were a lot of drafts.
How much of the story was planned before the first draft was written?
Not much—see my earlier answer.
In your own opinion, do [REDACTED REDACTED]
God, I certainly [REDACTED]!
How would you respond to criticisms that say that this is not your story to tell, as a white person?
I absolutely understand and respect those readers who view a work like thiswith skepticism, given A) a long and ugly history of white artists representing black characters in gross ways, and B) a long and ugly history of people of color not being afforded the opportunities to tell their own stories. I only hope that if people do actually read this book, they discover that A) I approached my characters and my story with as much knowledge and research and respect as I was able, in order to NOT be one of those gross voices; and B) this book is not me as a white person trying to “pretend to be black”, or claim authority on black history, but rather me as a white person trying to be honest about American history—to do what all white Americans should do more of, which is to reckon with and take responsibility for a long history of systematic racism against nonwhites.
I do take deep exception to the idea that I, as a white person, could never possibly credibly write a black character—to suggest that whites and blacks are so different that the act of fictional empathy could never bridge the gap is an insult both to fiction and our common humanity.
[I worked with Slate.com to collect and edit a collection of short stories all about what life will be like during the Trump Era, and they will run on the site over the next ten days or so. What follows is my introduction to the project, which you can also read here.]
At some point during the murk of the 2016 presidential campaign, somewhere after the Judge Gonzalo Curiel affair but before the Hunger Games–themed Republican National Convention, I sat down to write an essay about rereading The Plot Against America in the age of Trump.
Alas, a quick Google search told me that the territory had already been covered. I shouldn’t have been surprised. The plot of Plot, in which the fascist sympathizer Charles Lindbergh ascends to the presidency on tailwinds of celebrity and America First populism, speaks with vivid and distressing clarity to the present moment. Philip Roth is not a science-fiction writer, but his novel is part of a long and sturdy tradition within sci-fi: the “alternate history.” Take some crucial moment in history and undo it or do it differently. The South wins; the Allies lose; the Black Death wipes out Europe and European influence. In Nisi Shawl’s sweeping Everfair, the history of the Belgian Congo is rewritten by the early discovery of steam technology; in Michael Chabon’s The Yiddish Policeman’s Union the Jews are given not Palestine, but a slice of Alaska.
Whatever the particulars, the authors of these novels are interested in what the world would look like—what it would feel like—if X had happened instead of Y.
For many of us, X happened on Nov. 8 of last year. Somehow, while we were refreshing Nate Silver and wondering how Biden was going to do at the State Department, we fell through a trapdoor into an alternate dimension. Some fiction writer, cackling at her keyboard, invented the “Comey Letter” and unwound the real true history of the Clinton administration.
Even as it begins, the Trump presidency feels like an absurd and highly unlikely counterfactual. “Yes, this is really happening, I’m becoming president,” said Alec Baldwin as SNL’s sour-faced POTUS, while a Scottish newspaper listed the upcoming inauguration as the first episode in a reboot of the Twilight Zone. But as long ago as last March, the Boston Globe editorialists offered a mock-up front page from “Trump’s America.” A warning message from a bad future.
Well, the future is here. We are about to find out—we are already finding out—what the world would look and feel like if Donald Trump became the president.
Since the election we’ve all read 100 think pieces about what the next four years might hold, but fiction has a special power to clarify, galvanize, prophesy, and warn. I asked some of my favorite writers to offer visions from the alternate history we are now entering, and over the coming days Slate will publish the resulting pieces: ten short stories, all set at some point during the Trump administration.
The full list of writers is as follows:
and J. Robert Lennon
I’ll leave you — for now, for the year — with this interview I did for The Undefeated, a sports and culture website run by ESPN. I’m honored by what the journalist, Jesse Washington, had to say about my work in his introduction, and I think myanswers to his very smart questions are my clearest articulation of my intentions in writing the novel:
“Like most white Americans, I am not forced to face those facts on a day-to-day basis — the violence and fear of violence reflected in high-profile police shootings of unarmed blacks, but also just the day-to-day inequalities and indignities: housing discrimination, employment discrimination, mass incarceration. All of it. There is no way to untangle these contemporary evils from our historical evil…”
Last night I posted a link to a piece by Jamelle Bouie on Slate, whose commentary I have found so smart and powerful in the last few weeks. This morning Slate posted their new Audio Book Club podcast, which is a discussion of Underground Airlines and Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad. The three participants in the conversation are Laura Miller (who reviewed the book originally on Slate), Katy Waldman, and Bouie himself.
The conversation is in-depth (about race and the economics of slavery), fascinating, and shadowed by recent events. (And by the way, I’m honored once again to share a spotlight with Whitehead’s near-miraculous novel.)
As a white man, and as a white author who has tried to reckon with the history of racism and racist violence in America, I feel moved to share this Jamelle Bouie piece from Slate on therepeated suggestion that we all need to “empathize” with the white Americans who chose to vote for Donald Trump. Bouie, who in my opinion has been essential reading before and since this catastrophic election, is persuasive.
With so many Americans deserving of our empathy right now — from the immigrants now fearful of deportation to the Muslims facing a rapid rise in hate crimes to the women whose reproductive rights are soon to be curtailed by Supreme Court appointments — should those who with their votes created those crises be first on the list?
“Millions of Americans are justifiably afraid of what they’ll face under a Trump administration. If any group demands our support and sympathy, it’s these people, not the Americans who backed Trump and his threat of state-sanctioned violence against Hispanic immigrants and Muslim Americans. All the solicitude, outrage, and moral telepathy being deployed in defense of Trump supporters—who voted for a racist who promised racist outcomes—is perverse, bordering on abhorrent.“
I also strongly recommend this piece by Masha Gessen in the New York Review, “Autocracy: Rules for Survival,” which I think everyone should print out and tape to the fridge, and hope — really hope — that four years from now we laugh at how much we were overreacting.
A few weeks ago I paid a visit to one of my old haunts, Concord, New Hampshire, to do a joint appearance with the great American novelist Colson Whitehead, whose latest work The Underground Railroad has deservedly earned him great heapings of praise, not to mention a spot on the shortlist for the National Book Award.
My book Underground Airlines is obviously very different (i.e. it’s an alternate-history mystery/thriller), but I feel comfortable saying that the two works share some themes and areas of interest: like The Underground Railroad, Underground Airlines is a book about the Underground Railroad, the history of American slavery, and the connections between that history and contemporary structural racism.
One place I am no longer available is Twitter. After becoming anxious I was spending too much time on there, including a lot of good time that otherwise would have been committed to writing or, I guess, life in general, I did a cost benefit analysis and discontinued my account. They told me I have a year to change my mind, so who knows. For now you can contact me the old-fashioned way: by email, or Facebook, or by commenting on this post or any other post. Or come to one of the events listed above…or when the paperback comes out….or when I tour behind my next book, which I’m going to get back to work on.