Watchlist
"A brave and necessary set of early flares of the literary imagination into the Panopticon we all find ourselves living inside these days"
- Jonathan Lethemabout the bookabout
Threats known and unknown.
Etgar Keret. Robert Coover. Aimee Bender. Jim Shepard. Alissa Nutting. Charles Yu. Cory Doctorow. Randa Jarrar. Katherine Karlin. Miracle Jones. Mark Irwin. T. Coraghessan Boyle. Dale Peck. Bonnie Nadzam. Lucy Corin. Chika Unigwe.
Footsteps in the night.
Paul Di Filippo. Lincoln Michel. Dana Johnson. Mark Chiusano. Juan Pablo Villalobos. Chanelle Benz. Sean Bernard. Kelly Luce. Zhang Ran. Miles Klee. Carmen Maria Machado. David Abrams. Steven Hayward. Deji Bryce Olukotun. Alexis Landau. Bryan Hurt.
We are being watched. That this statement no longer shocks is itself shocking. Post-Snowden, we know that the government - everywhere - has been reading our emails, listening to our phone calls, and watching whatever we do on the Internet. The only thing concealed is the nature of our watchers.
In Watchlist, some of today's most prominent and promising fiction writers from around the globe respond to, reflect on, and mine for inspiration the surveillance culture in which we live. From drone strikes to birds mistaken for spies, paintings that change when they're not looked at to machines that let their dying users look back and reconsider the most important decisions of their lives, these stories take a broad and imaginative look at the state of surveillance in our global and interconnected world. How does constant surveillance affect us? Does it change how we behave as we seek approval or avoid judgment from an often faceless audience? Do we know who's watching? What does it mean to be watched?
By turns political, apolitical, cautionary, and surreal, these stories reflect on what it's like to live in the surveillance state.
"While I was reading Watchlist on my computer screen, a multilingual secret agent somewhere in Pyongyang, Beijing, or Moscow was reading over my shoulder, my computer screen on her computer screen, and under a mountain in Colorado, an NSA analyst was reading over her shoulder, my computer screen on her computer screen on his computer screen. What I'm trying to say is: you should read Watchlist, but you should read it on paper." - Kyle Minor
About The Author / Editor
Preview
From Zhang Ran's "Ether":
All of a sudden, I'm thinking about an evening from the winter when I was twenty-two.
A pair of pretty twin sisters sat to my right, chattering away; at my left sat a fat boy clutching a soft drink that he kept refilling. My plate contained cold chicken, cheese, and cole slaw. I don't remember how they tasted, only that I'd reached for the macaroni and dropped some on my brand-new pinstripe trousers. I spent the entire second half of the meal wiping at the crescent-shaped stains on my trousers as the chicken cooled in my plate, untouched. To hide my predicament, I tried to strike up a conversation with the twins, but they didn't seem very interested in college life, and I wasn't knowledgeable about pontytail-tying techniques.
The dinner seemed to last forever. There was one toast after another, and I would raise my long-stemmed glass with whomever was standing, and drink my apple juice, perfectly aware that no one was paying attention to what I did. What was the banquet for, anyway? A wedding, a holiday, a bumper crop? I don’t recall.
I sneaked peeks at my father, four tables away. He was busy chatting and drinking and telling dirty jokes with his friends, all his age, with the same thick whiskers and noses red from too much alcohol. He didn’t glance at me until the banquet was over. The fiddler tiredly packed his instrument, the hostess began to collect the dirty dishes and glasses, and my inebriated father finally noticed my presence. He staggered over, his bulky body swaying with every step. "You still here?"" he slurred. "Tell your ma to give you a ride."
"No, I'm leaving on my own." I stood, staring at the ground. I scrubbed at the stain on my trousers until my fingers were numb.
in the media
Related Interest
Related Interest
Watchlist
"A brave and necessary set of early flares of the literary imagination into the Panopticon we all find ourselves living inside these days"
- Jonathan Lethemabout the bookabout
Threats known and unknown.
Etgar Keret. Robert Coover. Aimee Bender. Jim Shepard. Alissa Nutting. Charles Yu. Cory Doctorow. Randa Jarrar. Katherine Karlin. Miracle Jones. Mark Irwin. T. Coraghessan Boyle. Dale Peck. Bonnie Nadzam. Lucy Corin. Chika Unigwe.
Footsteps in the night.
Paul Di Filippo. Lincoln Michel. Dana Johnson. Mark Chiusano. Juan Pablo Villalobos. Chanelle Benz. Sean Bernard. Kelly Luce. Zhang Ran. Miles Klee. Carmen Maria Machado. David Abrams. Steven Hayward. Deji Bryce Olukotun. Alexis Landau. Bryan Hurt.
We are being watched. That this statement no longer shocks is itself shocking. Post-Snowden, we know that the government - everywhere - has been reading our emails, listening to our phone calls, and watching whatever we do on the Internet. The only thing concealed is the nature of our watchers.
In Watchlist, some of today's most prominent and promising fiction writers from around the globe respond to, reflect on, and mine for inspiration the surveillance culture in which we live. From drone strikes to birds mistaken for spies, paintings that change when they're not looked at to machines that let their dying users look back and reconsider the most important decisions of their lives, these stories take a broad and imaginative look at the state of surveillance in our global and interconnected world. How does constant surveillance affect us? Does it change how we behave as we seek approval or avoid judgment from an often faceless audience? Do we know who's watching? What does it mean to be watched?
By turns political, apolitical, cautionary, and surreal, these stories reflect on what it's like to live in the surveillance state.
"While I was reading Watchlist on my computer screen, a multilingual secret agent somewhere in Pyongyang, Beijing, or Moscow was reading over my shoulder, my computer screen on her computer screen, and under a mountain in Colorado, an NSA analyst was reading over her shoulder, my computer screen on her computer screen on his computer screen. What I'm trying to say is: you should read Watchlist, but you should read it on paper." - Kyle Minor
About The Author / Editor
Preview
From Zhang Ran's "Ether":
All of a sudden, I'm thinking about an evening from the winter when I was twenty-two.
A pair of pretty twin sisters sat to my right, chattering away; at my left sat a fat boy clutching a soft drink that he kept refilling. My plate contained cold chicken, cheese, and cole slaw. I don't remember how they tasted, only that I'd reached for the macaroni and dropped some on my brand-new pinstripe trousers. I spent the entire second half of the meal wiping at the crescent-shaped stains on my trousers as the chicken cooled in my plate, untouched. To hide my predicament, I tried to strike up a conversation with the twins, but they didn't seem very interested in college life, and I wasn't knowledgeable about pontytail-tying techniques.
The dinner seemed to last forever. There was one toast after another, and I would raise my long-stemmed glass with whomever was standing, and drink my apple juice, perfectly aware that no one was paying attention to what I did. What was the banquet for, anyway? A wedding, a holiday, a bumper crop? I don’t recall.
I sneaked peeks at my father, four tables away. He was busy chatting and drinking and telling dirty jokes with his friends, all his age, with the same thick whiskers and noses red from too much alcohol. He didn’t glance at me until the banquet was over. The fiddler tiredly packed his instrument, the hostess began to collect the dirty dishes and glasses, and my inebriated father finally noticed my presence. He staggered over, his bulky body swaying with every step. "You still here?"" he slurred. "Tell your ma to give you a ride."
"No, I'm leaving on my own." I stood, staring at the ground. I scrubbed at the stain on my trousers until my fingers were numb.