One of the things that interests me in creative pursuits is the ability to refashion, refurbish and recycle things. This can result in interesting combinations of my passions. I love dub reggae. It’s an unusual genre of music; highly innovative and always ahead of its time, yet initially produced by people with limited resources from previous material. Though the analogue technology originally used to create dub has been displaced by digital devices, I and many others am drawn to the warm, deep sound of analogue, which lacks the clean perfection of digital productions. Sure, you can listen to dub on a Bluetooth speaker, but the experience offered by a sound system playing vinyl is something which you can’t beat.
I think one reason why I like dub is that it aligns with my own creative process: it’s built by hand from existing sources. Like my creations, analogue dub’s aesthetic is that of rough edges. It’s practical: dub can be used for different purposes, whether for a jump-up or as background music. Dub is part of my everyday life, often in the background, but always offering inspiration. I wish for my work to be seen in the same way; as a mosaic of existing material which is nonetheless original.
Hiberno-English may seem an odd companion for dub. It’s a minority dialect of English, originating on an island far distant from dub’s Jamaican homeland. But, like dub, Hiberno-English is part of my every-day communication. Like dub, it is not perfect from the perspective of “standard” forms, but it is warm and inspiring. Neither dub nor Hiberno-English are minimalist; both are about style. And both are part of the soundtrack to my life, part of my vernacular. It is my native dialect, or language, and I have a real grá for it. I thought it would be the best medium through which to express this setting (so it is).
My decision to combine dub and Hiberno-English is not an attempt to appropriate Caribbean music. I am fascinated by dub’s connections to Jamaican and broader Anglophone culture. Indeed, for some people, dub is a religious music, and part of efforts to spread Rastafari. It is a genre typically played at sound systems, and so is normally heard in a communal setting. Dub is often political; its communal nature is no coincidence, but rather an effort to create and strengthen group identities. I do not wish to obscure or sever dub’s links to its broader context. Rather, my decision to use dub as an inherent part of this setting comes from my genuine respect for the genre.
Other Caribbean traditions influenced Chancers. Duppies are figures in Jamaican folklore which cause harm to those they haunt, often through sleep paralysis. The separate traditions of Cuban Santería and Haitian Vodou partially inspired the ability of Spacers to channel spirits, though the similarities are small. I have not depicted the imagery, sacred symbols or beliefs of any of the aforementioned New World religions. This is primarily out of a desire to avoid appropriating or misrepresenting real-world beliefs. However, it’s also because the Saon System is supposed to exist in a completely different universe, and to simply throw in aspects of real-world religion would be lazy, unappealing worldbuilding. My separation of dub from its Rastafari context in Chancers is not an attempt to obscure or downplay these links, but rather to keep such connections pure for those to whom they are valuable.
Some will be aware that Hiberno-English has certain similarities to Jamaican Patois, the language of dub, owing to the presence of Irish indentured servants in the West Indies. I’m aware of the power imbalance which is made apparent through this cultural contact. The Irish, due to being primarily white, were given opportunities to ascend in Britain’s system of racial hierarchy. The enslaved people of African origin, whom the Irish had worked and even rebelled alongside, were granted nothing of the sort. They often came to be oppressed by the self-same Irish. It would therefore be insensitive of me to offer this work without admitting the complicity of Irish people in the racist systems of empire, which unfortunately weigh heavily on the culture from which dub emerged. This is especially necessary given the degree of historical misinformation propagated in Ireland on this subject, as well as the more recent growth of extremist and racist ideas in my country.
Thus, I hope this setting will be viewed as I have intended it: a work which offers sincere respect and thanks to the sources which inspired it. I hope that this colourful and diverse artificial world will offer an alternative to the real one, marred as it is by systems of prejudice. My work isn’t intentionally activist or “woke” (but if it upsets a few far-right heads, I won’t be unhappy). It does, however, sincerely incorporate elements of my own principles and interests.
Many other sources will be visible in this work. As in my other stories, there are anthropomorphic animal characters, for no reason other than that I enjoyed stories containing them as a child. There’s no significance to the animals chosen, apart from them being cool. My environmentalism and vegetarianism are also partly responsible for these design choices. As stated above, Chancers does not promote an overt message; but it would be wrong not to be true to my beliefs.
Anime films of the 80s and 90s have an influence, too, as I absolutely adore their aesthetics. You know what I’m on about already: Bebop, Ghibli movies, and my all-time favourite, Akira. I like bright colours and lots of details; I can’t understand images without them. I have massive respect for these “fillums” for being hand-made. Again, analogue’s where it’s at for me.
There are also buckets of Irish myth thrown into this brew. Like Hiberno-English, and indeed dub, these stories are ever-present sources of wonder for me. They are a well from which inspiration may be drunk. Depictions of the aos síde, the inhabitants of the Celtic Otherworld, were important influences on Chancers’ cosmology. The “fetches” of Chancers are inspired by figures from Irish folklore, some of which I inherited from my parents and grandparents. I would like to see a return to folklore and mythology as sources for modern fantasy fiction. Much as I love Tolkien and all “them fellas”, it’s disappointing that a lot of modern commercial fantasy is imagined as a discrete genre, whose tropes have all been set in the 20th and 21st centuries. Rather, I believe fantasy is an extremely diverse style, found basically everywhere and at essentially all times. So let’s be having more tokoloshes, oilliphéisteanna and woodwoses, please, and fewer elves, dwarves and "totally-not-hobbits".
So whether you’re chanting down Babylon or rocking the establishment, keep on building up your paradise.
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