CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT:
Interview with Marco Etheridge

Rappahannock Review Fiction Editors: We love how “Tati and Darkness” portrays Darkness in a refreshing and positive light. What was your goal portraying Darkness as a noble protector? 

Marco Etheridge: The idea of Darkness as a protector evolved with the story. I did not begin with that idea in mind. Yet the story required a narrator. I’m not overly fond of omniscient narrators hovering about, but I imagined a story with three children trapped in a cave while war rages outside. Someone needed to step up as narrator. I struggled with a few dead ends and finally hit upon the idea of a personified Darkness. 

Now I had a narrator and also a chance to turn a trope upside down. The easy trap reads thus: Light = Good, Dark = Bad. But what if the light I see is an artillery shell exploding far too close or the crackling glow of flames consuming my village? Darkness can be fearful but can also hide us from predators. As I wrote and rewrote the story, Darkness became a character rather than just a narrator.

RR:  Darkness seems to be quite aware of how humans view it versus how it views itself. How did you get in the head space to talk about how things that are “bright” are not always good? 

ME: Once Darkness became a character instead of an abstraction, he (it?) began acquiring a personality. I don’t view this process as forcing myself into the headspace of the character. Rather, I view it more as the character getting into my head and then making its wants and needs known. They can become quite bossy. No, no, no, writer boy, I’d never say anything like that. This is what I would really do. Try to get it right, will you?

In the end, Darkness took on the cloak of an anthropomorphic personification. If Darkness has been around for eons, he probably knows a good many things about humans, having watched a thousand generations come and go. Thus, Darkness takes the (very) long view on humans and possesses a deeper understanding of brightness, goodness, and of course, the dark.

RR: We were really impressed that the narration of Darkness is introspective but not overbearing in this piece. How did you find that balance when writing? 

ME: If there is a balance to Darkness, I found it by making mistakes. At first, the narrator was too flat. Then he became a know-it-all. That version was truly annoying. The short answer is Darkness became Darkness by trial and error. The character was there all along, waiting for me to catch up.

RR: In the story, Darkness references that each tribe invokes their gods as justification for war. What did you want your readers to take away from that?

ME: The answer to this question could easily become a very long essay. In the interest of brevity, let me say that invoking deities to justify anything is a risky business. World War One springs to mind. English, French, and German clergymen (and they were men at that time) preached the righteousness of their cause. God is on our side, so get busy smiting the enemy. Unfortunately for the poor bastards being slaughtered in the trenches, all those good preachers were invoking the very same deity. We can only guess that the irony was lost on the dead. 

One would think we humans might learn our lesson, but, sadly, no. We continue to use our various supreme beings as a reason to smite, oppress, and make holy war on those who do not adhere to our beliefs. Naturally, those we perceive as The Other are doing exactly the same thing to us.

What I want readers to take away from this story is that we are all citizens of a very small planet. Think before you smite.

RR: This story feels mythic yet idiosyncratic; are there any writers or works that were influential here?

ME: This question brings a quote leaping to the fore: nani gigantum humeris insidente, or “Standing on the shoulder of giants.” A blatant liar I would be to deny the influence of other writers. While I pondered my story “Tati and Darkness,” two writers seemed to hover nearby. The first influence was the novel The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. The author uses Death as a personified narrator and does so with a skill I could only hope to emulate. The second thumbprint on my story comes from the late Terry Pratchett, the creator of Discworld. I credit Mr. Pratchett with coining the phrase anthropomorphic personification, as well as the brilliant notion that human belief can bring about a personification of said belief. I highly recommend both authors and thank them for their creations.