It was a
brisk autumn afternoon in the grungy backstreets of Johannesburg. Moving in fits and starts, a draft manuscript
of Charles Stross’ latest Laundry Files
novel danced along the pavement, buffeted by the wind. The margins full of notes, he was undecided
how heavy to lay on the tech and magic. Should
I go all out, from www brain implants to wizards, or keep things relaxed, just
a little social media and a touch of voodoo?
At the same time and place, Philip Pullman, pique on his tongue and
time to kill, was looking for a place to relax into a pint or two. But just as he spied a promising pub, the
draft manuscript whipped up and slapped him in the face. Peeling the papers away and holding them at
arm’s length, he entered and sat down, ordered a glass of bitter, and took a
look at what fate had sent his way.
Immediately intrigued, he didn’t notice when the beer arrived. So absorbed, in fact, he began scribbling his
own notes—character needs animal familiar,a
strong, toothy one—but which? Crocodile? Alligator?... And this one?
Mongoose? Sloth? Pullman so deep in concentration, it took
the man sitting at a nearby table several tries to get his attention. “Hi, my name is Bill Gibson. Looks like you’ve got some run ons, hanging
clauses, and more than a few over-indulgent metaphors there. Let me see if I can’t help you tighten up that
story a little—give it an edge you can cut with, you know?” The rest, as they say, is Lauren Beukes’ 2010 Zoo City.
The above
introduction would seem to render Zoo
City imitative rather than original. That was only half the intention. By setting her story in a fully realized,
near-future version of Johannesburg, giving her main characters singular voices,
and having her own thematic aims, Beukes transforms the tropes and styles of
Stross, Pullman, and Gibson into a combination of her own making. The influences are readily apparent, but the
creation is of its own design—at least mostly.




