Adam Niswander
Author of the Shaman Cycle

I write horror, or, at least, dark fantasy. I like the adrenaline rush of being scared. I think part of the popularity of the genre is that it triggers our fight-or-flight mechanism, and we are more alive at that moment than in even pleasant intense moments like making love.

And I write about monsters--demon dust devils, giant winged serpents and elder gods, drug dealers courting creatures from other dimensions, deformed mutants and subtle psychic influences, witches, wizards and Satan. And all of my work has elements of the fantastic in it, not just the common horrors of, say, serial killers and child molesters.

So what is the essence of this genre? Is it the struggle between Good and Evil? Or could it simply be a reflection of individual perceptions of what is desirable and undesirable? I do not believe in Evil.

I believe in What Is.

Jesus said that "Nothing is good nor bad, save thinking makes it so."

But, then, I am basically a Buddhist in terms of religious leanings, so I do not really believe in God or Satan either. Stuff Is. And my faith says that everything exists for a reason--that there is purpose to all this complexity. With that philosophy, there is justice when everything works out nicely balanced at the end, and injustice when it does not. Our perceptions of it, based on uncountable factors in our own lives, color our emotional attachment to any particular undesirable act.

But those things individuals consider undesirable run through the gamut of our passions, don't they? That is where is gets completely beyond any standardizing and common cause.

"All Right-Thinking people agree that . . . "
Fill in the blank.
But do they?

Does a predator upon children agree that molestation is abhorrent? Does a hit man agree that murder or assassination is wrong? Does an abused wife agree that killing her tormentor was a crime? Does a fanatically religious man think killing someone possessed is antisocial?

What standards we have are contained in laws created and passed by society to define what is socially acceptable within that society. And, because we acknowledge that there can be mitigating circumstances, the law is, as they say, "often idiot." It is designed, as best we can design it, to apply equally in all cases.

So I write about monsters. I believe in social organization and, at a minimum, some standard of right and wrong. As a result, my villains are darker, more starkly undesirable, my monsters are largely without socially redeeming values we would appreciate, and my heroes and heroines are better than most folks I know.

But they--all three--are not simple black and white cut-outs. The bad guys have undesirable and deleterious effects on the society around them, and upset the order of society. But there are justifications within their own consciousness which make a perverse kind of sense. Ultimately, the reader finds him or herself in agreement that these bad guys must be removed from society. But there are moments of doubt, when the same reader understands that the motivation behind the undesirable acts is the result of innocence, ignorance, or even a different standard--perhaps a standard no less valid from a skewed point of view.

And the good guys are often imperfect, humans who are still growing and confronting their own inner demons and flaws. At times they make human mistakes, bad judgments, foolish errors, and then must rediscover where their vision of "what is right" begins. And they admit their errors, if only to themselves.

But Heinlein once wrote, and I do not know if it is attributable to him or to someone else, that "Frank admission of vice is not a virtue." Simply admitting one is flawed in character does not make the flaw go away or excuse it.

And then there are the victims, aren't there? Those folks who die during the course of our stories. Some are designed so that, in the end, the reader is glad that they die. The feeling created is that they deserved to die.

But there are innocents as well. And for them we evoke pity, or remorse, or deep grief. In some cases, it might even be a hero who dies -- though that is best used sparingly as readers resent it and often do not forgive us.

Is it an expression of evil when an old woman is killed after being bitten by a snake? Or is it simply an unfortunate occurrence?

Of course, I kill them whether innocent or deserving. And I have killed quite a few fine people in my novels, as well as some truly undesirable humans.

And the poor monsters, of course. There is a need in us to resolve the matter, isn't there? We can't feel comfortable if the monster escapes in the end.

Not, of course, that this is a rule. Hannibal Lector is a prime example. At the end of Silence of the Lambs, he escapes and calls Clarice, and even indicates his intent to kill again. And that is a delicious moment in terms of fear and adrenaline.

But, in most cases, especially in a stand-alone book, ridding the world of the monster is the satisfactory ending. And sophisticated readers know that if you did not kill it, then there must be a sequel in the back of your mind somewhere.

The bottom line, however, is that one need not believe in Evil to write about it. Nor, of course, must you believe in the forces of Good. You need not believe in God to write about reverence, nor must you believe in Satan to write about hell.

H. P. Lovecraft created his fictional universe -- at least the best known one -- by taking the elements of traditional religion and paralleling it with an alternative vision. In what has become known as the "Mythos" there are holy books, that are negative images of the Bible and the writings of the Saints. There is a hierarchy of Gods, paralleling the ancient pantheons, but dark and incomprehensible to the human mind.

In his important Supernatural Horror in Literature, Lovecraft began with the statement that the oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.

I can't say for certain that the statement remains true today. With all the graphic violence available in books, television and films, it is harder for a writer to propose something so unique as to fit the category of "unknown."

As a fan of Lovecraft (yes, he did have a tendency toward purple prose, but I think his mind was singularly remarkable), I have tried to resurrect the delicious darkness of creatures so ancient and so far beyond human experience that they exist whether man likes it or not. In The Charm, the reader meets a force of nature, a minion of Ithaqua (the Elder God of Winds). "The Beast" is imaginative, able to envision a universe in which it is a god. And it is opposed by humans who are imperfect, but still -- as one reviewer noted -- "people you wished you knew."

The Shaman Cycle Series is an interesting challenge, dealing as it does with a changing Native America. When I began writing it in the 1970s, Native Americans here in the Southwest lived in virtual poverty, dependent on Federal Government Programs. Since then, they have achieved tribal sovereignty and are, in effect, independent nations within our nation. It is ironic that they have come into their new affluence by catering to the weaknesses of the larger white society surrounding them, providing outlets for gambling.

There is a danger in a white guy writing about Native Americans. Too often, unfortunately, writers portray Native Americans as inaccurate stereotypes. I take some pride in the fact that a huge number of fans of the series are Native Americans, and that my tales have been well received in those communities. I did a lot of research, conducted hundreds of interviews, and felt a moral and professional obligation to present characters who truly represented the cultures I portrayed.

The Shaman Cycle Series is, overall, a plea for cross-cultural cooperation -- a snapshot framed in fantastical accouterments of how differing cultures can benefit from each other's strengths.

But the job is still story-telling. The Charm is an adventure in dark fantasy. After its appearance, LOCUS said I was a fantasist. The second book, The Serpent Slayers, is edgier and more along the lines of traditional horror.

One of the challenges that still keeps my work from mass-market exposure is the cross-genre nature of the Cycle. The Charm is predominantly fantasy, The Serpent Slayers is primarily horror, The Hound Hunters verges into science fiction, and the new The War of the Whisperers is substantially crime detection. All the books revisit creatures created by Lovecraft or others in the development of the mythos. Frankly, the larger publishers keep telling me they don't know how to market them.

Which, I guess, takes me back to the original argument.

I write horror. I like the adrenaline rush of being scared. I think part of the popularity of the genre is that it triggers our fight or flight mechanism, and we are more alive at that moment than in even pleasant intense moments like making love.

As long as humans find a thrill in being frightened--a heightened awareness, a keener sense of life, a more basic and reactive level of activity--then Good and Evil will exist as the common form of desirable and undesirable.

We see the desirable as Good. We see the Undesirable as Evil. We cannot and never have agreed on exactly what they may be, because we all have our own definitions. We think we agree with almost everyone and we rarely like to explore these areas specifically. We avoid it because we know that we will find differences--differences which can cause rancor and disharmony and discomfort.

My contention remains that Good and Evil do not really exist. What is IS. But, of course, there is much I find horrific in our universe.

But then I do not require anyone to agree.

There is much I find undesirable in reality. I accept it as a reflection of my own background, mores, upbringing and preferences. Since I like to consider myself a civilized man, I abhor violence and value cooperation among peoples. But I know that my preferences are not the law of the world and that there are exceptions under certain circumstances which make those preferences simply impractical. Fight or flight remains operative in the hard-wiring within. To deny it would be unrealistic.

Like most writers of dark fiction, I exploit it.

Questions or comments are invited. My email address is: adamn@primenet.com

Meanwhile, I hope you'll take a look at The Charm, and the whole Cycle as it unfolds.

Thanks for the opportunity to introduce myself.