Meet the BRAVE NEW WEIRDOS #1: Sergey Gerasimov

Welcome to our first installment of BRAVE NEW WEIRDOS! This will be a series of Q&A’s I conducted with some of the writers contributing to Brave New Weird in order to get to know them a little better and…

…well, this first one is a bit intense, as you’re about to read. Sergey Gerasimov is a Ukrainian writer, poet and translator, currently living in Kharkiv, where he’s been documenting the Russian invasion ever since it began (not as a straight “journalist”, he insists, though he’s certainly documenting history with an astute, artistic eye). 

Sergey’s contribution to BNW is harrowing as well; “The Day When the Last War is Over” is a haunting, prescient and heartbreaking exchange between two young protagonists trying to make sense of a world that is too late to save.

Circumstances obviously limited the amount of back-and-forth that Sergey and I were able to do. I’m just gonna reprint his responses in their entirety and do my best to minimize the original questions I sent him. 

Sergey’s initial email began with this pleasant sentence:

“Writing fast before the power goes out”

These responses have been edited for clarity only.

***

Sergey, you’re not actually at your home right now, so I especially appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. Most folks reading this are outsiders looking in to what you’re dealing with. Can you tell me about your current situation in Ukraine, and how you’ve been engaged with it since the war began?

My current situation in Ukraine is this: S-300 rockets are falling on our heads. Today, the first explosion sounds at nine in the morning. My computer turns off suddenly, then wheezes as if in agony, trying to turn on again; the next moment it is completely dead. Eight seconds later, the sound of the explosion rolls over us like a wave; then another, and another, and another.

I go to the bathroom and turn the tap on. The water still trickles out of it, which is reassuring, but it stops a few seconds later. I put my hand on the central heating pipe and feel it getting colder by the second. We check the phone, but there’s no connection. The apartment is a dark cave that is slowly getting colder.

This [current] situation [is different than when] the war began. Now, Russians mostly attack “infrastructure objects”, which is surely a less cannibalistic tactic than before, when they tried to kill people. But…people die anyway.

What does your writing routine look like in such an environment?

[It’s] simple: to catch the moment when both electricity and internet are on, flop down in front of the computer, and write. 

I write one thousand words daily for Neue Zürcher Zeitung (ed. note: NZZ is a Swiss-based, German language newspaper). What I write is not journalism, but rather non-fiction, which is Weirder than fiction, because reality is often unreal around here.

Then I translate one or two poems by Dmitry Blizniuk, who is a really unique author. Just Google “Dmitry Blizniuk”*** and read a random poem; I bet it will be unique. 

Then I think of what else I can write, but by that time the day is usually over, or the power is off, or both.

What does “Weird” mean to you, in the context of storytelling? And what creators/experiences helped sculpt this definition?

“Weird” is an exercise in imagination where you reach the limits of it…and [then] go a little beyond. It’s like bodybuilding, but not for the muscles; for the imagination. The biggest Schwarzenegger in this genre, for me personally, was Boris Vian. 

No, he was not Schwarzenegger, of course; he was the biggest Steve Reeves!

Obviously, the war only informs a small part of who you are and your artistic pursuits. After all, you initially crossed our path as a fiction writer. Please share some links to your work, prior or upcoming; any news you feel like sharing about upcoming releases, or really, anything you’d like to share; the floor is yours.

If you know German, you can read my non-fiction stories about Kharkiv at: https://www.nzz.ch/feuilleton/kriegstagebuch-aus-charkiw

If you don’t, you still can read three chapters here, in English:

https://anotherchicagomagazine.net/2022/03/05/march-2-2022-excerpts-by-sergey-gerasimov/

I hope that you’ll like it so much that you decide to learn German and buy the whole book here! (it’s perfectly okay if you don’t, though):

https://www.amazon.de/Feuerpanorama-ukrainisches-Kriegstagebuch-Sergej-Gerassimow/dp/3423283157

If you read Weird, the whole Weird and nothing but Weird, you can read some of my Weird stories here:

https://www.jjournal.org/post/wings

Or here:

https://clarkesworldmagazine.com/gerasimov_07_08/

If you want to read the Weirdest novel on earth, look no further than:

https://upperrubberboot.com/the-mask-game/

If you are a fan of Weird fantasy, you can read, for example: 

https://www.amazon.com/Oasis-Do-Schrodingers-Cats-Age-ebook/dp/B079Y6BMND

And, last but not least, if you are so weird-minded that you even read poetry, (indeed, some people are) you can read my translation of Dmitry Blizniuk. There are loads of them on the net.

***

***FYI, I did what Sergey suggested, googled “Dmitry Blizniuk”, and picked a random poem. Wouldn’t you know it: it was translated by Sergey. I’m reprinting it below because it feels apropos:

WALLS TREMBLING LIKE HORSES

The sounds grow;

they are the teeth of a vehemently rotating circular saw.

And the bomber

folds the sky like a book,

cuts the sky in two,

and you, seized with terror,

shrivel up into “I,” into “We,”

like into a lifeboat sent by God,

but you are too big to squeeze in.

Quickly and rudely, you cover your mom with your body.

Your stunned guardian angel

blindly thumps its wings against the linoleum,

like an albatross on the deck.

Where are you? Are you still here?

Still alive?

My dear people.

The sky bursts with explosions.

The sky gets filled with pink manganese solution.

The oblong eyes of the beast of the horizon.

It’s the trepanation of the despairing city

with pneumatic picks.

The walls of your house tremble like horses

that caught the smell of a wolf.

translated from Russian by Sergey Gerasimov

Sergey Gerasimov is a Ukraine-based writer and translator. He studied psychology and has authored several academic articles on cognition. When he is not writing, he teaches, plays tennis, and kayaks. His work has been published in Russian and English, appearing in Adbusters, Clarkesworld Magazine, Strange Horizons, J Journal, The Bitter Oleander, and Acumen, among many others. 

Brave New Weird: The Best New Weird Horror, Vol. One, is out February 6, 2023; preorder information coming soon!