“When is a Body Not a Body?”: an interview with Rone Shavers

INTERVIEW BY NAYA CLARK

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Silverfish, by Rone Shavers is an experimental novel that details a slice of life in the dystopian Incorporated States of America: a country much like our own, but one in which the corporatization of culture results in the commodification of human bodies. The central characters are Angel, a code-switching, artificial intelligence robot, and Clayton, a human “combat associate” whose job is to hunt, kill, and capitalize on “primitives,” those unaccounted-for humans who live outside of the advanced technological realm. Together they use each other’s knowledge, consciousness, language, coding, and lack thereof to achieve liberation.

Rone Shavers writes in multiple genres. His fiction has appeared in various journals, including Another Chicago Magazine, Big Other, Black Warrior Review, PANK, and The Operating System. Shavers’ non-fiction essays and essay-length reviews have appeared in such diverse publications as American Book Review, BOMB, Electronic Book Review, Fiction Writers Review, and The Quarterly Conversation. He is fiction and hybrid genre editor at Obsidian: Literature and Arts in the African Diaspora, and he teaches courses in creative writing and contemporary literature at The College of Saint Rose in Albany, New York.

In this interview, we discuss code-switching, experiential writing, language, euphemisms, and Afrofuturism.

Naya Clark: One of the most recognizable elements of Afrofuturism within Silverfish is code-switching. Angel would often quote renowned Black figures and mention of African deities are made throughout the book. Why were those added?

Rone Shavers: Well, if I had to describe myself, that’s what I am: a code-switcher. I’m constantly code-switching—you might hear me do it at some point during this conversation. I do that, and at other times I do what a friend of mine, Vershawn Young, calls “code-meshing”, which is blending different kinds of language styles together, rather than switching from one style to another…

NC: For people that code-switch, like you and I, it’s effortless in conversation. It just happens. When placed in an experimental novel, how did you decide when to implement code-switching, so that it translates accurately?

RS: One reason was sort of pragmatic, and the other was a bit more abstract. I’ll speak about the pragmatic one first. First off, if I’m writing from the Angel’s consciousness, from the Angel’s point of view, and the Angel has access to all this information, then of course, that information is going to come out in a very particular sort of way, such as in its original form. It doesn’t have to be mediated through the use of a standardized, proper English. If it’s all just part of an archive of knowledge, then the Angel can simply access it as is. That said, the more abstract reason I wrote in the way I did is that I didn’t necessarily want to filter or translate those things that didn’t necessarily need to be translated. Code-switching normally happens when you recognize a situation in which a thing can’t be said in any other way because of the context in which you say it. And because code-switching is so contextual, if you don’t get it, you won’t get it. Not unless you take the time to figure out what it means. All to say that I want the reader to have to do a little bit of work. That’s part of what makes the book experimental.

NC: I do appreciate that you didn’t over-contextualize those moments. Code-switching happens randomly. It’s not something that can be necessarily timed or described or monitored. It just happens.

RS: Yeah, you can also say that it’s highly referential. In fact, I’d say that in order to code-switch, you have to first be aware of the codes. Admittedly, it’s a little cheesy of me to put it that way but well, it’s true. 

NC: On the opposite end of the spectrum, Silverfish is very technically written and matter-of-fact. Some people have compared it to Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael and My Ishmael, because they both provoke the reader to go back and re-digest a cut and dry, objective point of view of the human experience. Was that intentional?

RS: Part of my intention in the book was to create these layers of references. I really enjoy the sorts of texts that you can read, re-read, go back to and read again. And where each time you read them, some new fact or tidbit comes out of it. What I am interested in is the idea of networks, networks of reference and communication, and inserting Silverfish into that network. Do you remember Willy Wonka’s everlasting gobstoppers? Sometimes what popped up in my head while writing was that I was making an everlasting gobstopper…

NC: …Layers and layers…

RS: And each one, a different flavor.

NC: I consider Silverfish a philosophical text, as it touches on many layers of consciousness, and the concept of freedom, and the “I”.  Also, as an Afrofuturistic text, how do you think Black identity and the “Black body” ties into this subject?

RS: Blackness, Black, and the Black body are three different things. What is Blackness? Ask 10 different people and you’re going to have 10 different definitions. And as for the black body, well… Wait, can you tell me the connection you made? What you saw in the book?

NC: Well, Silverfish exists in a dystopia where a fleshly human body has a price and is a resource. I think a good example of this is the [Colin] Kaepernick situation. When he, as a body, was an athlete, he’s useful and makes money. But when he, as a Black person, has a statement to make, then he’s no longer valuable.

RS: Yes, absolutely. But when is a body not a body? It’s when the body becomes a substitute for a bigger idea. In Kaepernick’s case, the bigger idea is police brutality against BIPOC. When he knelt in protest against police brutality–and how ironic his kneeling now seems, given what happened to George Floyd!–the reaction against him was so visceral because he gave the fact of racial inequality a physical form. He made an abstract concept concrete. And as we all know, up until his protests, his value as a gifted athlete was his cultural value. So, you’re right. He was just another body who was supposed to, as race-baiting television host Laura Ingram infamously said about Lebron James, “Shut up and dribble”, even though the sport is somewhat different… Really, that’s one of the ways the book leans into Afrofuturism. In America, the black body has repeatedly been used as a money-making resource. In fact, the black body is still commodified. I mean, if you want to consider Kaepernick’s case, then let’s be totally clear about it. It’s not that he’s no longer valuable, it’s that he now carries a negative value. It’s the fear that he will cost the NFL money that keeps him blacklisted. To the owner of a professional sports team, the athlete is basically just a positive or negative revenue asset. That’s what commodity capitalism’s all about.

NC: This reminds me of when Clayton and the other combat associates were assigned tasks that involved thinking, using clues, and human critical thinking abilities. It was associated with a certain paygrade.

RS: You can see echoes of that same idea in the Angel. Basically, as long as you are functioning like a machine or doing a job in which a machine can one day replace you, then everybody’s calm and everything is copacetic. But the minute you begin to question that way of being, it’s assumed that you must be malfunctioning somehow. That you’re wrong, off, out of your lane…

NC: In Silverfish humanity is described very objectively, similar to Daniel Quinn’s Ishmael. Why do you feel that’s the most effective way of describing the human experience?

RS: I don’t really write from an emotional state. Emotions are so fleeting and spongy… I’m not big on evoking an emotional response out of a reader because I don’t know who my reader is going to be. Instead, I like to give space for the reader to have his or her or their own emotional response. They might read the work as funny. They might read it as tragedy. They might read it as horror. I don’t know. Unless they tell me, I’ll never know… I’m always going to be more excited and drawn to ideas, even if it’s dime store philosophy, than I am attracted to emotions. I’m just not that sort of writer. Emotions are fashionable, meaning that they wax and wane according to particular moments in time. But still, I don’t hate emotional fiction. I just think that there are tons of other writers who can evoke emotional responses so much better than me.

NC: It seems that you trust the reader to be intelligent enough to have their own perspective. Another thing about the language is the fact that in this world, they use the word ‘primitive’ with a negative connotation, almost to describe an enemy or an unwanted way of life. Why did you choose ‘primitive’ specifically?

RS: I remember being taken aback the first time I heard somebody use ‘savage’ in slang. I was floored by all the connotations. So yeah, there’s a definite emphasis in the book on euphemisms and how we use them. Also, I really wanted to highlight how dependent the language of commodity capitalism is upon using euphemisms. The two are so incredibly intertwined. For example, you really start to see it if you specifically look at the language of start-up tech companies. They all make mention of ‘angel’ investors, someone who’ll come in and prop the company up by giving them millions of dollars… There are all these little euphemisms that pepper the different characters’ speech throughout the book. For instance, the soldiers are called ‘combat associates’, and they often talk in euphemisms and don’t even realize that they’re doing it… But I think I’m getting slightly off-topic. I chose ‘primitive’ because it’s the mirror opposite of ‘civilized’, which is the other word often mentioned throughout the book. And of course, civilized is a word that carries its own fraught, connotative weight. It’s a euphemism that’s used in really classist and racist ways. 

NC: Speaking of angels, I wanted to understand why that was used for the AI as well. Can you elaborate on the reason why you decided to call this form of AI an angel?

RS: It’s the irony of it. This thing is going around killing everything in sight! It goes back to my previous statements. Calling a cyborg that kills in the name of capitalism an “angel” is, in itself, an ironic euphemism. There’s that, and there’s also the fact that “angel” is one of the most overused terms in the English language. We’re always running around, using the word willy-nilly: ‘Oh, you’re such an angel for doing that’, ‘You sleep like an angel’, angel face, angel eyes, angel dust, angel hair pasta, etc. I could go on, but if you haven’t guessed already, I’m sort of into playing with all of the different ideas that swirl around language, the philosophy and uses of language and stuff. Those are the kinds of things that really interest me.

NC: Another component I noticed in Silverfish is the theme of getting AI to trust humans, as opposed to the other way around. The idea that AI feeds on what you feed it, and what you feed it is what you get back in return. Was that intended?

RS: In Silverfish, the Angel tells Clayton, “You’ll have to think differently,” but she doesn’t exactly or explicitly tell him how or what to think. What the Angel says is basically something to the effect of, ‘I will give you the tools to rebel, to think outside of the box, but you’ll have to do it by yourself.’ I framed it that way because it’s about what one can do with the concept of language. And for Clayton, at least, he decides he can use language to communicate. But language is fallible, you can make mistakes with language. Language is not a perfect way of communication. One of these very common fantasies is that, somehow, we’ll stumble upon an ideal means of communication, where we can be understood without the use of language. That’s why there’s such an attractive strength in concepts like empathy, which avoids language altogether and substitutes direct feelings instead. I mean, we all know that language is an incredibly invaluable tool, something that won’t let us down, but still, people are always going to be able to lie. They’re always going to be able to fudge things. The whole fantasy is that we can somehow have a pure form of communication. We’ll never get there.

NC: In terms of Afrofuturism, I think that’s another reason ‘primitiveness’ maybe applies, because for a long time, people were seen as primitive for those sorts of miscommunications. But it is also futuristic to be able to communicate without language.

RS: I don’t really see it as communicating without language. Because again, that’s a fantasy. I see it more as using language against itself in a very clever way. What I mean by that is… Well, in any society in which you are not a part of the dominant culture, in which you’re a member of a marginalized group, you’re often forced to learn how to speak the dominant culture’s language just as the dominant culture speaks it. But then something really interesting often happens. While still speaking the dominant culture’s language, the marginalized begin to strategize alternate ways of verbal communication that rely upon the use of dominant culture language, but actually makes the language say something entirely different. In other words, they begin to invert and subvert certain sounds, words, and meanings, so that the words they use convey something else. In the Western hemisphere you can see this all over the place. Particularly among Black and Brown people, who have had to devise various language strategies in order to overturn essentialist dominant culture tropes. Basically, BIPOC have had to learn how to remix language in a way that works to ensure not only their agency and culture, but also their very survival. Now, in terms of Afrofuturism, maybe it’s correct to say that BIPOC culture turning language against itself is Afrofuturistic, maybe it’s not. In either case, I agree with you that there’s nothing primitive about it.

NC: Thanks for working with me on that. Was there anything that I didn’t ask or bring up that you want to clarify or mention? Or you want readers to know?

RS: Maybe just the obligatory word about creative writing. A really good piece of writing advice I got when I was in school that I still cling to is to assume that the reader is as smart as you are. Let them come to the conclusion that they need to come to. You have to have enough trust in the reader to be able to come up with some of the answers to things themselves.