Steven Erikson is widely regarded as a pivotal figure in modern epic fantasy, known for weaving intricate conflicts, empires, invasions, and rebellions into his narratives. Born in Toronto in 1959, he visited Barcelona for the first time during the 42nd Festival of Fantasy Genres, engaging with readers in a memorable encounter this Saturday, with reflections on his imaginative universe shared the day prior.
For readers unfamiliar with the Malazan decalogy and the opening novel The Book of the Dead, what is Malaz as a setting?
Malaz is a world where magic operates and where humanity is not the sole intelligent species; the realm is inhabited by diverse beings and forces that shape its destiny.
Where should a newcomer begin? Are there any novellas or early installments in progress that could serve as an entry point for a new decade audience? Is there a quick path into this world?
The recommended approach is to follow the publication sequence. Start with Gardens of the Moon, and begin in medias res, as if stepping into a vast, ancient Roman setting around 65 BCE that continues toward 128 CE. This means there are elements that precede it and others that follow. The focus remains on a particular slice of an expansive story.
Ten books with a demanding, multi-layered structure present a real challenge for attentive readers.
The author invites readers to trust the craft. He guides them through the narrative, and when necessary, provides the essential context at the right moment. It is perfectly fine not to grasp every thread immediately; the tale reveals further detail in time.
Unlike some writers who develop a fully explicit magic system with strict internal rules, Erikson explains that there is no rigid system to memorize. The magic serves to provoke curiosity and preserve mystery. If every spell were fully explained, it would become mere technology, whereas the enduring power of magic lies in myth, legend, and storytelling. The approach is reminiscent of the Iliad, where divine intervention is part of the fabric of the world but never exhaustively explained.
Turning to the concept of the many paths within the universe, Erikson describes reality as layered. Human perception catches only a fraction of what exists, while other forces operate on other planes. Paths are means by which a person can reach those layers and draw from them what is needed.
There is a palpable sense of cosmic fear within the narrative landscape.
Indeed, there is.
Across present and past, cities and empires intersect in complex ways. How has the author’s background in anthropology and archaeology shaped the writing?
Exposure to archaeology informs the writing by highlighting what lies beneath the surface. The visible events in the story are shaped by hidden realities that archaeology emphasizes. The surface narrative gains depth from those underlying structures, much like recording events while acknowledging the unseen forces that give meaning to actions.
Erikson notes that Malaz began as a collaboration with Ian C. Esslemont and that both authors contribute their own novels to the shared world in a flexible, evolving system. Each writer recalls the collaborative games differently, which adds an extra layer of enjoyment for readers and creators alike.
When asked whether Tolkien’s legacy influenced a generation of writers reexamining heroes, race, and gender, Erikson reflects on common fantasy tropes. The aim is to move beyond cliché by examining and reshaping them through metafiction. While he respects the legacy, he mentions Donaldson and the Thomas Covenant series as an important counterpoint that helped push epic fantasy toward adulthood. The conversation places Malazan within a broader dialogue about the evolution of the genre.
Grim-dark elements surface as a theme, provoking a wary examination of violence. The risk of sensationalism is real, as media can desensitize audiences. In Erikson’s view, literature can illuminate the consequences of violence in ways cinema and television often do not. He concedes that writing violent scenes can be uncomfortable, preferring to describe events in a journalistic manner so that the focus remains on what characters must endure next rather than the mechanics of harm.
Wounds and scars emerge as lasting motifs, influenced by wartime literature. Writers like Tim O’Brien and references to Full Metal Jacket illustrate a nuanced approach to violence that centers on survival rather than heroism, challenging grand heroics as a storytelling norm.
While the author acknowledges a growing interest in science fiction, contractual obligations keep him tied to ongoing projects. Reading habits span both science fiction and nonfiction, and he does not dismiss fantasy but prefers to explore beyond familiar boundaries when time allows.
In terms of genre exploration, Erikson expresses enthusiasm for deep space exploration and cites a fondness for writers such as Ian M. Banks, Alastair Reynolds, and Peter Hamilton. Becky Chambers is singled out for her compelling, humane vision of spacefaring narratives—often likened to a friendly, almost intimate dynamic among crewed beings in the vastness of space.
Overall, the conversation reveals a writer who values depth, complexity, and narrative restraint. The Malazan universe remains a rich tapestry where myth collides with human history, inviting readers to embark on a long, immersive journey with trust in the author’s storytelling instincts.