Image Credit: Rebekah H. Hamill
Shaun Hamill’s debut novel doesn’t read like it was written by a first-time novelist. Don’t trust me? How about the master of horror himself? Stephen King praised this uniquely beautiful tale, stating “If John Irving ever wrote a horror novel, it would be something like this.” What higher recommendation could you want?
A Cosmology of Monsters is a weird and wonderful blend of horror and literary fiction. Noah Turner, the youngest of three children, tells his family’s story, spanning decades of highs and lows in a world plagued by monsters of both the real and fantastical variety.
Hamill graciously took time out of his busy schedule to talk with The Nerd Daily about his love-hate relationship with Lovecraft (a huge influence in this novel), his interest in what lies behind the scenes of a haunted house, and what job scared him off after only a few weeks.
A Cosmology of Monsters is not what I would call a traditional horror story. It crosses genres, incorporating aspects of horror, fantasy, and literary fiction. As such, it is a difficult tale to summarize for others without spoiling some of the surprises you have up your sleeve! How would you give a synopsis of your debut novel in two sentences or less?
A Cosmology of Monsters is a literary horror novel about a family running a haunted house attraction, and the monsters—both metaphorical and real—that haunt them.
How did you decide upon the title A Cosmology of Monsters?
Back in 2014, a friend of mine on Facebook shared a chart of supernatural collective nouns created by David Malki, which used phrases like “A clamor of clones” or “A pension of aliens.” I loved the playfulness and poetry of the chart, and it bounced around in the back of my mind for months. When I started writing a novel later that year, I went back to the chart to try and come up with my own collective noun for Monsters. Since I was also reading a lot of Lovecraft at the time, “Cosmology” came to me almost at once, and I knew I had my title. It’s been with the book since the beginning and has never changed.
Let’s talk about the monster as a metaphor in literature. (You knew this was coming!) This is a fairly standard trope in the horror genre, yet A Cosmology of Monsters really feels like you have done something different here. When you were developing the novel, how did you want to remain faithful to and/or avoid the standard conventions of the “monster” in literature?
Much of the ethos of the novel can be traced back to one of the epigrams at the start. It talks about Lon Chaney, one of the great monster character actors of the silent film era, and how Chaney’s performances reflect our deepest fears about ourselves—the secret shames we think make us unlovable, or unworthy of affection. The implication is that we all carry these burdens, and I was interested in exploring the ideas of secret shame and toxic miscommunication, and how that can warp a life if not confronted.
I was also fascinated by the definition of monstrousness. It’s a moving target, usually defined in opposition to whatever the norm of the day happens to be. Anything too far outside that norm is vilified, be it homosexuality, fatness, ugliness, bodily deformity, mental illness, skin pigmentation, left-handedness, etc. I was interested in exploring this idea in an honest, complex way.
H.P. Lovecraft is overtly referenced throughout A Cosmology of Monsters. Could you talk a bit about how the writing of Lovecraft works in concert with and/or against your storyline here?
I have a love-hate relationship with the work of H.P. Lovecraft. I’ve always liked the idea of his cosmic horror, and the incredible art that he’s inspired, but his prose is dense and dry, his narratives are formulaic, and his art is inextricably linked to racism and xenophobia. And yet, for all that, A Cosmology of Monsters owes a deep debt to the man and his work. The structure of the novel—a first person narrator relating his journey into the cosmic unknown—is very much in the Lovecraftian tradition, and much of the book’s more fantastical imagery (which I don’t want to spoil here) is inspired by the beasts and ancient ruins in his fiction. Lovecraft’s cosmic nihilism is the emotional backdrop of Cosmology.
But the book doesn’t stop at loving homage—it is also an interrogation. My problems with Lovecraft’s prose became my characters’ problems with Lovecraft’s prose. And where Lovecraft’s investigation of the monstrous usually stops at the moment of first contact, that’s where Cosmology begins its real work, interrogating the idea of monstrousness and “the other,” and not settling for easy answers.
The classic haunted house, a thrilling attraction that pops up in nearly every town across the U.S. around Halloween, is a central “character” in A Cosmology of Monsters. What spurred you to have this be such an integral part of the Turner family’s story?
I used to go to a lot of haunted houses when I was in my 20s, and I was always curious about what it was like in those places after they closed up for the night and the employees took off the costumes and the makeup. Who were these people? What was it like to have the drama of your life play out against such an unusual backdrop? The concept was a fun one to explore, but it also turned out to be a useful setting for my characters. The Turners are all haunted, and their family business is an impressive, ever-expanding manifestation of their trauma. Noah Turner grows up in and around this temple of pain, and it provides the pathways he uses to explore the big questions of life.
The characters in A Cosmology of Monsters are quite complex and fascinating. If you had to be one character in your novel, who would you choose to be and why?
Thank you for saying that! It is a tough question to answer, though. This book puts its characters through the wringer, and I’m not sure that I’d willingly step into any of their shoes. Noah and I are the same age, grew up in the same area, and share a lot of the same fears and worries, so he’d be the obvious choice. I’d prefer to be Eunice, though. She’s gifted, kind, and a deeply sympathetic character. Of all the people in the book, I think she’s the one I admire and care for most.
Your author bio indicates that you “grew up on a steady diet of horror fiction and monster movies.” At what point did you decide you wanted to be a writer? What “horror fiction and monster movies” in particular inspired you to begin writing?
In fourth grade I wrote a storybook for “Young Authors Day” at my school and the other kids in my class liked it. Something clicked in my head and never really un-clicked. As far as early inspirations, I was hooked on Alvin Schwartz and Stephen Gammel’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark books and Nickelodeon’s Are You Afraid of the Dark anthology series. The Universal monsters—particularly the Frankenstein movies starring Boris Karloff—made a big impression on me, as did both of the Ghostbusters movies (and cartoon series).
Stephen King’s IT was my watershed moment as a reader/writer, because it was the first adult book I ever wanted to disappear into. It was wholly immersive, truly frightening, but also wondrous and deeply in love with its characters. I’ve been chasing that particular high as a reader and writer ever since.
The Iowa Writers’ Workshop is incredibly well-known for turning out successful novelists from all over the world who write quite diversely. As a graduate from this prestigious program, could you share a few of the most powerful lessons you learned there and have actually put into practice?
I learned a lot in Iowa, but I think most of what helped me as a writer can be traced back to one very simple (yet maddeningly difficult to implement) piece of advice:
Always, always, always be honest. Whether you’re writing a story about a couple getting a divorce or asteroid miners fighting space aliens, your job as a writer is to immerse yourself in each moment with the characters, listen to them, and then report back what you hear and see as clearly and directly as possible. Don’t try to force your creations to behave a certain way because that’s how you think the story should go. Don’t just mimic what you’ve seen and heard in other books, or worse, in movies and on TV. Dig deep. What is your protagonist thinking about during her first kiss? What is your astronaut’s true emotional state on seeing an alien for the first time? If you’re being honest—uncomfortably honest—the answers will usually surprise and delight you (and your reader). Be honest, tell the truth as your characters see it, and let the drama unfold from there.
How long did it take you to write A Cosmology of Monsters? Do you have a routine/schedule that you follow when you are writing?
I started Cosmology in November of 2014 and finished my first draft in August of 2016. My agent and I worked on revising and polishing the book until the fall of 2017, when we sold the it to Pantheon, and I spent chunks of 2018 working on further revisions with my editors. All told, it was a four-year process from beginning to end (although with gaps for recharging batteries/waiting on notes from editors, etc.).
When I’m composing a first draft, I like to write 1000 words a day, first thing in the morning. I prefer to do it longhand, because I can type faster than I can think, and I like to slow down and immerse myself in my story. This usually takes about 2 hours. Afterwards, if I have the time, I like to go on a walk and listen to music and daydream—about my current project, future projects, etc. Graduate school was wonderful for this. I lived in a suburban neighbourhood in Iowa City that was very pedestrian friendly, and within walking distance of several parks and walking trails. Now that I live in rural Alabama and work a grown-up job again, I have to write in the evenings and do my walking on a treadmill (or risk getting hit by a car walking down the curvy roads of my neighbourhood in the woods). But the important thing is to make time for both the daydreaming and the actual work of writing.
After the first draft is finished, I type it up. I like to type 2000 words a day, reading and revising at the same time. I can type more, but 2000 seems to be the outer limit before my attention starts to wander and my fingers start to make mistakes. By the time I’m finished, I have a relatively polished second draft. If I’m happy with the draft, I’ll send it on to my readers (my agent, my wife, etc.). If not, I’ll print it out and start rewriting by hand, and do the whole process over again, and again, until I have it right (at which point it goes on to its intended readers). Then, once I get their feedback, I start the process over again.
This draft-tag game goes on, the revisions getting smaller and smaller (moving from big structural stuff to individual scenes, to even sentences and words) until my editors tell me the book is done, and I can go outside and play for a while.
Writing it out like this, it sounds very time-consuming! But that’s another big lesson from the workshop, this one specifically from Paul Harding (and badly paraphrased here): you don’t get into reading and writing novels because you’re obsessed with efficiency. The creation and consumption of novels create a sort of timelessness. They take as long as they take.
Let’s Get Nerdy: Behind the Writer with 9 Quick Questions
First book that made you fall in love with reading: Superfudge by Judy Blume
3 books you would take on a desert island: The World According to Garp by John Irving, Songs of a Dead Dreamer by Thomas Ligotti, and Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke
Movie that you know by heart: Ghostbusters
Song that makes you want to get up and dance: “(Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher & Higher” by Jackie Robinson.
Place that everyone should see in their lifetime: The U.S. Space & Rocket Center in Huntsville, Alabama (I went for my birthday last year and it’s a truly awe-inspiring place).
Introvert or extrovert: Hardcore introvert
Coffee, tea, or neither: Coffee, black, no sugar or cream.
First job: Taco Bell dishwasher (I lasted maybe three weeks)
Person you admire most and why: My wife, Beca, who struggled through a host of health issues during the writing of Cosmology and still managed to be the breadwinner while I was in school. She’s the toughest person I know.
