Hello and welcome to this Track of Words Author Interview where I’m delighted to welcome the fantastic T.R. Napper back to the site, to talk about his debut novel 36 Streets, which is out now (in ebook/audiobook – paperback coming soon) from Titan Books. We’ve talked before about his phenomenal short story anthology Neon Leviathan, and since reading that I’ve been hoping for more…so a full novel is very welcome indeed (and let me tell you – it’s so, so good!). Fans of science fiction – and cyberpunk in particular – will find an awful lot to enjoy in 36 Streets, and in this interview we cover what to expect from the novel and how it fits in with the short stories in Neon Leviathan, and delve into some of the characters and themes of the book.
Without further ado then, let’s get on with the interview.
Track of Words: To start things off, for anyone who’s not familiar with your work could you tell us a bit about yourself as a writer and what you like to write?
T.R. Napper: I came to writing later than most. In my mid-30s, or thereabouts. I also came to writing after a career as a humanitarian aid worker, having spent many years living and working throughout Southeast Asia.
It never made a conscious decision to write in a particular sub-genre. Indeed, I didn’t think much about it at all until beta-readers started pointing out that it was all cyberpunk.
It makes sense. Blade Runner (1982) and Ghost in the Shell (1995) are two movies I watched time and again. I’m a fan of hardboiled fiction. The thematic concerns of cyberpunk match my own interests (technological control, the corruption of the elite, retaining our humanity in an inhumane system) and it’s also a setting that has a natural home in Asia, even if some of those representations have been superficial in the past.
And, you know, cyberpunk is sleek, and sexy, and neon-drenched, and high-octane. It’s got everything.
ToW: Could you give us an overview of what 36 Streets is about?
TRN: As the blurb begins: “Lin ‘The Silent One’ Vu is a gangster and sometime private investigator. Born in Vietnam, raised in Australia, everywhere an outsider. She lives in Chinese-occupied Hanoi, in the steaming, paranoid alleyways of the Old Quarter – known as the Thirty-Six Streets.”
An Englishman comes to Hanoi, wanting answers over one friend who is missing, and a second who is dead. Lin investigates, and, well, the wild ride begins. What is it about? Well, identity and belonging, collective memory and suffering, the cruelty of great powers, and the nature of violence. Just the little things.
But more than anything it is about Lin. Who she is and who she becomes.
How would you describe it, Michael, to a potential reader?
ToW: You know this is the first time anyone’s turned an interview question back on me? And it’s a good question. In brief, I would describe 36 Streets as a compelling SF mystery set in an immersive and fascinating cyberpunk dystopia; an explosion of brutal, bloody action with a morally ambiguous but utterly badass protagonist; and a powerful examination of pain, memory and grief that hit me right in the feels. In other words, it’s damn good!
ToW: You’ve previously explored the setting for 36 Streets in your short story anthology Neon Leviathan but for anyone who hasn’t read that, how would you describe this setting, and what do we need to know about the where and when of the book?
TRN: I’d describe it as speculative fiction. That is, a plausible extrapolation of the present, to use the definition of Margaret Attwood. It’s set in Vietnam around the year 2100. America has collapsed, China is the sole superpower. I’m not sure the reader needs to know anything more than that, if I’ve done my job properly as the author.
ToW: Without spoiling anything, who are the main characters and what do we need to know about them?
TRN: I’ve mentioned her already, but Lin is the protagonist and she is a bad motherfucker. She probably could be described as the anti-hero, and certainly she is an outsider, as is common in this type of literature. She is also a complex, layered, and flawed individual, whom I care about deeply. The goal, of course, is to have the reader – despite everything – care about her, as well.
Her boss, Bao Nguyen, is the gang leader and something of a father-figure. His gives her the toughest of tough-love, to say the least. There is an American giant Lin must confront, an Englishman who is not all he seems, and a dying Chinese colonel with a vendetta.
And above it all? Well. A vast conspiracy, of course.
ToW: Having already written a lot of stories in this setting, what inspired you to tell this particular story for your first novel – a murder mystery, with gangsters and propaganda-by-VR, set in Hanoi?
TRN: I suppose the twin inspirations were the city of Hanoi and the character of Lin. She has returned to me time and again over the years, troubling my creative mind. I’m fascinated by Vietnam – its history, its culture, and people – it has been the pawn of great empires for millennia. Another important inspiration – and one which I directly reference in the book – is a novel called The Sorrow of War (1987), by Bao Ninh. It was a ground-breaking novel at the time, so much so it was banned, briefly, by the Vietnamese regime. It is considered the first novel to tell the story of the Vietnam War from the Vietnamese side.
As for the murder mystery. It is something of a trope in cyberpunk, sure, but it is also a perfect hook for the storyline, to draw the reader into the world. In terms of propaganda, psychological warfare, all that, in one sense it is just a continuation of what always happens in war: the dehumanisation of the enemy. But the great thing about science fiction is that we can explore these ideas through powerful speculative technologies. In this case, a fully immersive game called Fat Victory, which takes players through a disturbing, hallucinatory simulation of the Vietnam War (which the Vietnamese call the American War).
But look, when you start out as a writer, you are sometimes given the advice: write the book you want to read. It’s good advice. I want to read books that have something meaningful to say about the world, but are also thrilling, immersive, and populated by complex and believable characters. That’s my inspiration.
ToW: Would you recommend readers start off with 36 Streets, or do you think the short stories in Neon Leviathan are better read beforehand?
TRN: Well, the most important thing is that they buy them both! Kidding. I don’t think it matters. Short stories and novels are such very different creatures. Neon Leviathan has much variety, as you’d expect. Cyberpunk is sometimes thought of as little more than the type of world portrayed in the game Cyberpunk 2077. But it is much more than that, as the TV show Black Mirror showed.
36 Streets allows you to spend more time with specific characters in one story, Neon Leviathan samples vignettes of the people living all over this world. It’s true that short stories helped me to add depths to the world I’ve imagined, to test ideas, to innovate. Which, in turn, means that by the time the novel comes around, it’s in a world that feels lived-in. But even in the short stories, I want the human element to be central.
But, again, which to read first is purely a matter of reader preference.
ToW: Lin’s backstory – born in Vietnam, raised in Australia – obviously works well as a way of making her a sort of outsider, but what prompted you to give her that particular history? Was it purely a narrative decision, or a way of incorporating your own Australian heritage?
TRN: Both. She does not see herself as Vietnamese, or Australian. She is very much an outsider. I think there are a lot of readers – especially those who are attracted to crime/noir, cyberpunk, or grimdark – who identify with and/or are fascinated by the outsider character. It is a staple in cyberpunk for a very good reason – there needs to be a protagonist who can travel through many different worlds, but belong to none of them. It is important, in part, because they have their own moral code (however opaque), and are beholden to no-one and no power structure.
So Deckard, in Blade Runner, is not a cop, but not a civilian, either. He serves an unjust system (a system that hunted Replicants, a slave class), but was forced into that service. And, of course, Deckard is a Replicant without even knowing it. Major Motoko in Ghost in the Shell questions whether she is fully human – whether she has a ‘ghost’, or a soul. She is with the police, technically, but also owned by the police. Her body was their property, and if she ever tried to leave, they would own her memories of service, as well.
It was important to have Lin grow up in Australia, in fairly tough circumstances. This is something that I know about, and something therefore at the core of her that is true. There is truth at the centre of Lin, and so – what I hope – all the other aspects of her identity that grow from this also feel true.
More broadly it is important for me to include Australia in my writing. There is a lot of pressure on Australian writers to either flatten or omit the Australian elements from their stories. There is a type of thinking in the industry that says you really can’t make it internationally if you don’t mould your work to fit the American market. I understand this line of thinking, but disagree with it. I feel that many science fiction readers – Americans included – want to have their minds blown when they read a book. Sometimes ideas can do this, sometimes the storylines, and sometimes cultural perspectives quite different than their own (both Vietnamese and Australian, in this case). I try (try) to do all of the above in 36 Streets.
ToW: I understand you lived in Hanoi for a number of years – did you write any of this book while you lived there? The city and the people all feel so real and richly detailed…do you think you could have written this story without having been immersed in the city like you have been?
TRN: I began the first draft of 36 Streets towards the end of my time in Hanoi. I lived there from 2013 to 2016, and I believe I first put pen to paper (or fingertip to keyboard) in late 2015.
In answer to your question: No. I really don’t think I could have written this book without having lived there. You and others have called the book immersive, which is something I very much strove to achieve. It is very important, for me, for the reader to enter a world that feels lived in and layered. It is of course possible to do this through research and intricate world-building, but I don’t think I could have replicated what I achieved in this novel without having lived in the Old Quarter for several years.
ToW: A lot of the stories in Neon Leviathan explored memory and the way technology interacts with it, and that feels like a recurring theme here too, specifically regarding the way in which people deal with the emotional and psychological cost of violence. How do you find writing about powerful, difficult themes like this?
TRN: It’s challenging to write about (both memory and violence), and quite frankly, I find it challenging to discuss in interviews like this. It’s hard to distil such complex ideas down into easy answers. Which is why, perhaps, I feel the urge to explore them at length in my stories.
Memory fascinates me for several reasons. In part because it is everything we are. The sum total of our being – our experiences, our relationships, our identity – everything, save the thin edge of the present, is bound up in memory. So to imagine technologies that can manipulate or erase memories, is to imagine something that can erode or even destroy the core of who we are. It goes to that perennial question of science fiction: what does it mean to be human? I think memory is a powerful way to think about the answers to that (unanswerable) question.
I believe it is important to emphasise the consequences of violence. What it does to the victim, and the perpetrator. Violence in my writing is never included on a whim, as something causal or hollow. This is, as you suggest, more powerful but also much harder to get right. Adrian Tchaikovsky (Children of Time) notes, in his very generous introduction to my collection, Neon Leviathan: “It is easier to write about violence than to write about its aftermath – the grief, the guilt, the long-held trauma.”
In a sense, every Star Wars film is far more violent than any of my stories. They kill a billion people per film, on average, and no-one bats an eyelid. That’s because the violence in these films has no consequences. You can blow up a planet and no-one gives a shit: it’s just part of the spectacle. Cyberpunk in general – and this is true of my work – is not so flippant.
ToW: Finally, can you tell us anything about what’s next for you? I saw a mention on your website of researching Macau…is that for a future story?
TRN: Yes. And no. I’d already written a novel before 36 Streets called The Escher Man. The latter novel is set (or at least, begins) in Macau. For various reasons, the novel never found a way to publication. However Lin Thi Vu – from 36 Streets – was a minor character in The Escher Man. I found myself fascinated by her, enough that I wanted to know how she became the person she is in that novel. And thus, 36 Streets was born, which occurs five years before the events of The Escher Man.
I then re-read The Escher Man a few weeks ago. I expected to be underwhelmed – it had been years since I’d looked at it. And, well, I was wrong. It was fucken cool. Something I could and should be proud of. Which isn’t to say it is perfect. Far from it. I’m revising it now, and the first third in particular needed a bit of work. But the story itself isn’t bad at all. Next I just have to convince my agent, and after him, a publisher.
Which is to say: it may still never see the light of day. I think it prudent to be a pessimist in this business. You try to do your best work, with the expectation of rejection. And if one day the other thing happens, well, that’s a bonus.
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T.R. Napper is a multi-award-winning science fiction author. His short stories have appeared in Asimov’s, Interzone, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, and numerous others, and been translated into Hebrew, German, French, and Vietnamese. He received a creative writing doctorate for his thesis: Noir, Cyberpunk, and Asian Modernity.
Before turning to writing, T.R. Napper was a diplomat and aid worker, delivering humanitarian programs in Southeast Asia for a decade. During this period, he received a commendation from the Government of Laos for his work with the poor. He also was a resident of the Old Quarter in Ha Noi for several years, the setting for 36 Streets.
These days he has returned to his home country of Australia, where he works as a Dungeon Master, running campaigns for young people with autism for a local charity.
You can find T.R. Napper on Twitter and on his website.
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Thanks so much to T.R. Napper for chatting to me for this interview, for writing such thoughtful, in-depth answers, and for giving us the lowdown on 36 Streets. Keep an eye out for my review of 36 Streets coming soon, but in the meantime it’s available to order in ebook and audiobook right now from Titan Books, with the paperback due out in February.
See also: my interview with T.R. Napper talking about Neon Leviathan
See also: my review of Neon Leviathan
Check out the links below to order your copy* of 36 Streets:
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