HachiSnax Interviews: The Second Peter Fehervari Interview!!!

A little over a year and a half ago, Peter Fehervari, who in my opinion is the best author over at the Black Library, in addition to being a real great person (and very supportive to the blog), agreed to do an interview. The first few questions were billed as a "Part I", however, due to some scheduling issues and workloads, Part II never came to be. Now, I am ecstatic to announce a second interview with Mr. Fehervari.

There's only a few questions this time; but I think you can agree, the answers he provides are insightful, thought-provoking, and mind-blowing. It is a rare opportunity to see the workings and plannings of such an intelligent and deep author. 

Well, read on, and I hope you enjoy. I'm sure you will. Please take the time to leave some comments on the way out.

Cheers, Hach.

Hi Peter-

Thank you for agreeing to do this second interview with HachiSnax Reviews. It’s hard to believe that it has been close to a year and a half since the last installment.

At the time of the last interview, I had framed a good deal of questions around your (then) upcoming Adeptus Mechanicus tie-in short story, Vanguard. However, since then, you’ve had a few more offerings come out through Black Library. There was another tie-in short story, this one for the Deathwatch series, titled The Walker In Fire, as well as the dizzyingly brilliant novella Fire & Ice, which appeared in the Shas’O collection (see reviews for Vanguard, Walker In Fire, and Fire & Ice).

Several of your stories feature the Tau in significant roles. I have to say, of all the Black Library authors, I believe your take on them is the most believable. Instead of just focusing on their wide array of armament, you infused them with a tangible air of legitimacy by delving into their philosophies. The way you presented the “Greater Good” is in a way one would imagine it to play out in real life – equal parts appealing and utterly terrifying. As a gamer, and as an author, what was your own history with the blueskins; and, going from that, how did you approach bringing them so effectively to life?

P.F.- I’ve never fielded a tau army on the table-top, however the faction has intrigued me since its first appearance. I vividly recall going into my local Games Workshop (sadly long gone and much missed) when the original tau codex and models were released and being struck by the buzz surrounding them. On fire with enthusiasm, the manager told me these were ‘the good guys’ of 40K – a rational, reasonable, all-embracing culture that was the galaxy’s best hope. Well, that certainly intrigued me. Unequivocal good guys in a world that was all shades of grey running through to deepest black? Really?

If I’m honest, I wasn’t particularly keen on the angular battle suits and overall aesthetic of this new race at the time, but I was curious enough to buy the codex. While I can’t remember the precise details of that early version I know it won me over to their side philosophically. Though this young race was almost certainly out of its depth in a reality where superstition, paranoia – arguably even xenophobia – made sense, I respected its idealism, doomed or otherwise. Since all roads in the Dark Millennium would likely end in ruin I figured I’d rather walk one that somewhat reflected my own view of right and wrong. The tau and I were both young and idealistic back then, so we hit it off!

Bearing this in mind, I’ve found it interesting that many readers feel my take on the Tau Empire is cynical, even condemnatory, because that was never my intention. For the most part I believe the tau are sincere in their intentions towards other species, genuinely recognising that sentient (and sane) civilisations are stronger if they stand together. The Greater Good isn’t just for those with blue skin and hooves – it’s a genuine, all-embracing philosophy that might just work in a broken galaxy.

However later codices and occasionally other sources (particularly Spurrier’s ideas in ‘Xenology’) added threads of shadow to the bright tapestry of these idealists. Considering their fragmented, self-destructive past, I’d argue there’s a potential darkness in the tau that can be supressed, but never entirely excised. This aspect can be played up or down depending on one’s personal interpretation of the ‘facts’. For example, the pheromone control exerted by the Ethereal caste is unsettling because it potentially denies other castes the freedom to choose the Greater Good, which would arguably undermine its ethical foundation. However, there’s plenty of wriggle room here because it’s not clear how pervasive and necessary such control is. One could argue that the pheromones (if they truly exist) are merely a support structure for tau society rather than its basis. As a writer I find such grey areas compelling, hence my fascination with the tau grew as their lore became more textured and their flaws showed through.

Nevertheless, given the countless predatory factions pressing in from all sides (and I include the Imperium here), I don’t regard the tau as particularly dark. Authoritarian? Almost certainly. Ruthless? Yes, occasionally, but rarely spiteful or malevolent. Thus, I’ve striven to present them as analytical, precise and measured in their intent and actions, but with a rigidly controlled, passionate core.

The embittered Fire Warrior, Jhi’kaara exemplifies this tension when it’s pushed to the limit. She is a broken reflection of the tau ideal, twisted out of shape by ambition and disillusionment. This makes her an outcast, more in tune with the toxic jungles of Phaedra than her own kind, yet even she never willingly betrays the Greater Good. Her discipline and respect for social order are too ingrained.

Which brings me to the Water caste ambassador, O’Seishin, who presided over the Phaedran war. Despite his incipient corruption (again rooted in personal ambition), his plan was arguably sound, saving many more lives (particularly tau lives) than it cost. It was harshly utilitarian, but undeniably effective. Rational. Hence the novel’s protagonist was faced with a murky, corrosive moral choice at the novel’s conclusion, which underlined the story’s main theme – complex questions rarely have absolute answers. Which reflects my view on the tau themselves.

I’ll conclude by saying the Tau Empire remains the faction I’d sign up with if I lived in the Dark Millennium and was offered a choice. In fact, given the chance, I’d call the tau in to sort things out in the here and now!

H.S.- Over the course of your Black Library stories, you have given your readers some truly memorable Imperial Guard (sorry, Astra Militarum) units. Take the Verzanate Konquistadores, the Lethean Penitents, and the Iwujii Sharks, to name a few. In your fashion, you have also provided detailed and comprehensive backstories for these units. However, of all the Guard companies you’ve created, the Arkan Confederates are forever cemented in the minds of readers.

Now, it is no new thing for Warhammer 40K Guard units to draw design inspirations from historical or culturally-influenced military units. Reception to drawing inspiration from Civil War soldiers seemed to run the gamut from readers thinking it was great, to some thinking it was odd, and others, silly. The thing is, once you picked them, the presentation was amazingly detailed. It wasn’t just grey uniforms, kepi caps, and a pseudo-Southern dialect. There were references to obscure Civil War era unit types, and authentic representations of social classes (from the upper crust plantation owners to the holy book thumping fundamentalists) and dialect.

My question is, was your inspiration in using that Confederate template born from picking well-known “rebels” and diving into insane amounts of research? Did it spawn from an affinity for that segment of military history? Or was it another clever puzzle piece (i.e.- Civil War – Blue vs. Grey. Blueskins vs. Greybacks)?

P.F.- My starting point for the lead regiment in ‘Fire Caste’ was that it should be strikingly ill-suited to the conditions on Phaedra. I’ve already mentioned that Herzog’s film, ‘Aguirre, Wrath of God’ was an aesthetic inspiration for the setting – the images of conquistadors hauling cannons through a steaming rainforest were unforgettable and I wanted to capture that sense of absurd striving and misery while going my own way and amping things up for 40K. Secondly, I wanted to push the idea of the old and the new clashing, both technologically and ideologically, so a ‘period’ regiment was appealing as a foil for the tau.

I’ve always been fascinated by the American Civil War – the intensity, the appalling internecine waste of lives, the distinctive and striking uniforms, but above all, the irreconcilable clash of tradition and new ideas – so a Civil War regiment seemed a good template to build upon. I’m far from an expert, but I did my research, which is where I discovered colourful units types like the Zouaves, though I took them in pretty eccentric directions. Other than Colonel Cutler, who is obviously loosely inspired by George Custer, none of the characters are based on historical figures, but many of the names were derived from old regimental lists (though I discovered that a fellow BL writer had apparently been there long before me and snapped up some of the best ones!)

 I’m aware that some people felt the Arkhan Confederates were too literal a take on their real world counterparts, but I feel this criticism was overcooked given how established 40K lore also draws so deeply from human history. In hindsight, perhaps I’d tone down some cultural aspects - the language perhaps - though I tried hard to make it authentic rather than clichéd, however I’m not convinced the story would be better for such changes. Besides, I’d argue that the Arkhan’s steampunk slant already goes a long way towards distinguishing them from the reality. Furthermore, in my alternate history, the Confederates (who reluctantly sided with the Imperium) were the victors, so the more conservative side won the war. This was probably just as well for Providence because it would have been steamrollered otherwise, but there’s a pervading sense throughout the book that it was a hollow victory. Many of the Confederates feel like traitors to their own people and have little affinity for the Imperium, let alone the Imperial Cult. They are lost – out of place, time, culture and increasingly, mind. The potential this offered for storytelling was always the most important thing for me.

I must confess that the grey and the blue parallel was pure luck – or serendipity - but it made me very happy when I noticed it.

H.S.- In evaluating your three last offerings, you can plainly see that with Vanguard and The Walker In Fire, there were certain parameters you had to follow in keeping in line with the tie-in story arc/product release. In both of those stories, you also found your way to integrate elements from your twisted, interconnected story threads. However, there is something different about the tone of Fire & Ice. In that novella, there is an almost palpable sense of an author with unbridled control over the story he is crafting; and the end result crackles with intensity. I know that sounds a bit over the top, but that story is immensely powerful. It may not have the haunting, despair-laden overtones of Fire Caste, but it is a solid, strong work.

Not to make the question too broad, but what can you tell us about the “making of” Fire & Ice? What was your original intent with this novella? Did you have any concerns with how the story would be received by readers, being as though it is so fundamentally different from the other offerings in the anthology in both mechanics and tone? And, what was your approach for getting inside the head of the enigmatic figure who may or may not be Farsight?

P.F.- While ‘Vanguard’ is a more direct follow up to ‘Fire Caste’, ‘Fire and Ice’ is closer to that novel’s spirit. Once again the ‘journey into darkness’ is at its heart, but more focused, with fewer action set pieces and a tighter focus on dialogue. Though it is a puzzle without a clear-cut solution its pieces had to make sense and work on multiple levels.

For example, setting the bulk of the story on a train served several purposes. Firstly it struck me as a fresh and unusual environment for a 40K tale. Secondly, it offered a claustrophobic, almost inescapable trap where the horror, both physical and psychological, could play out. But thirdly, I was attracted to the set-up emotionally. This trap, where the roles of captor and captive, hunter and hunted blur, is quite literally on rails, remorselessly carrying our protagonist towards judgment as his tormentors push him on a parallel, arguably more dangerous, journey within himself. This synergy of the aesthetic, the practical and the emotional is what I aspire to when thrashing out a story's location, plot and characters. Which brings me to your question about Farsight. 

Last time round I talked about the sense of responsibility I feel when writing within the 40K mythos - the thrill and the fear. Well, I’ve never felt it so keenly as I did with ‘Fire and Ice’ because this was the first time I was entrusted with one of the lore’s established figures. 

Being drawn to outcasts, iconoclasts and rebels, I was fascinated by Farsight from those first dark paragraphs in the codex, so I jumped at the opportunity to get to know him better. This was before the release of his supplement, so he was still a profoundly enigmatic figure and my brief was to keep him that way. I could hint at his motives and nature, but not pin anything down. Whatever depth and detail I brought to him could not be at the expense of his mystery. After some initial consternation I realized this resonated with my own instincts about the character – after-all it was his mystery that had hooked me in the first place.

I loved the notion that Farsight’s true nature, like the identity of the infamous missing legions, belonged to the imagination of the fans, without ‘official’ answers to constrain it. To some he might be an ideological renegade, to others an opportunist pirate or even a nascent champion of Chaos. My place was to offer evidence for all these theories, but never hard proof, which set the story's tone of subterfuge and shadow play – and indeed the whole puzzle-box structure. At journey's end we can't even be certain whether the Prisoner was Farsight at all. Not even I, the writer, can really know in this case.

To do this idea justice it was imperative never to go directly into the Prisoner's head. His thoughts had to be inviolate. Like his interrogator, all we have to go on is what we see and hear. We are observers, never truly confidantes in this game. 

So what can we be sure of? 

Regardless of his motives, I knew the Prisoner had to be impressive. Without a battle suit or a loyal cadre of followers, he had to be dangerous through his sheer presence alone. The story's title refers to the duality of his psyche, which encompasses both a razor-sharp intellect and a ferocious passion (the inherent tension of the tau amplified to the limit). Each aspect is in thrall to the other, but always threatening to break free and shatter the balance. To my mind, this is the alloy from which a great leader is forged – a warrior lord who has mastered both the detached strategy of war and the up-close savagery of battle. As to whether he’s fighting for good or evil… that’s another question, and not one I wanted to answer about the Prisoner. There’s plenty of evidence on offer, but how you interpret it… well that’s up to you. The answer doesn’t belong to me.

H.S.- Finally, your new novel focuses on the machinations of a Genestealer cult infestation. What drew you to this faction and what was your approach to their portrayal? How did you combine older canon, newer materials, and your own personal touch into making a "religion" that is both simultaneously hideous and inhuman, yet also sympathetic, believable, and, in a perverted sense, beautiful?

P.F.- There’s a grungy bio-punk aesthetic to the Genestealer cults that appealed to me from their first appearance in White Dwarf, back when they were riding around in limousines and making pacts with Chaos like some kind of xenos-tainted mafia. They embodied the rot devouring the Imperium from within, wielding doubt and discontent to subvert the everymen (and women) of humanity from the shadows. The insidiousness – the dishonesty – of their secret war made them more unnerving than the xenos and traitor hordes assaulting the Imperium’s frontlines. And then there was their utterly nauseating modus operandi - a corruption of mind and body that was unequivocally sexual in nature. They were repellent, but fascinating with it, which made them a compelling faction to write about.

When I received the brief for the novel I had some lengthy and wonderfully bizarre discussions with my editor about how far the story could – and should – go into the sexual aspect of the cult. Sex is intrinsic to a Genestealer infestation so glossing over it completely would have done the concept a disservice, but equally we had to be mindful of the readership’s wide age range. Hopefully the balance we struck, with the sexual aspect restricted to suggestion and character reactions, conveyed the horror without ever being crude or exploitative.

Actually, while we’re on this subject I’d like to clarify one…technical…point about hybrid reproduction: my understanding is that first and second generation hybrids infect humans with an ovipositor sting, much like Purestrain Genestealers. Only fourth (and possibly third) generation hybrids are sufficiently humanoid to utilize more conventional techniques of reproduction. While the codex isn’t particularly specific on this matter I pressed for an answer and this is the interpretation we agreed on. Personally I think it’s quite disturbing enough and entirely logical.

So to be absolutely clear about this and end some of the more febrile speculation I’ve read on some forums: the fallen Battle Sister, Etelka, was stung by the cult Patriarch. There was no bizarre monster sex involved, thanks.

Moving on to the character of the cult, I wanted its philosophy and aesthetics to express the biology at its heart, but in an idealized way, hence the imagery of an ever-growing spiral and the promises of ‘cosmic kinship’. From humble human converts to the Patriarch himself, whether it is instinct, intellect or passion that drives them, every member of the sect sincerely believes the infestation is a force for good. How could it be otherwise when it heals, unites and enlightens those it embraces? Within the Great Spiral the doubts and deceptions of individuality disappear and the three facets of existence - body, mind and soul – become harmonious.

The daemonic entity imprisoned beneath the Spires and held in check by the Patriarch reinforces the logic of the cult’s creed: in a malevolent galaxy only absolute harmony can prevail. This is both an inversion of the classic Rogue Trader phrase (‘In a mad galaxy only madmen prosper’) and a more extreme expression of a utilitarian philosophy like the Greater Good. Crucially the creed makes a lot of sense, which is where its beauty stems from.

Of course, we know this is all a lie perpetrated upon the cultists by their own biology, which has doomed them from the start. The Great Spiral is a trap, offering not cosmic transcendence, but oblivion in the jaws, metaphorical or otherwise, of a tyranid fleet when the Hive Mind finally senses them. That twisted tragedy is what I find most compelling about the faction, not least because it rings so true. As the lost Arkan captain, Ambrose Templeton wrote in the preface to his unfinished epic: Beware of easy answers and those who proclaim them, for what glitters is rarely gold and those who flaunt it are never true gods.

Wow. Amazing stuff there. Thanks again, Peter! A reminder, Peter's two Genestealer Cults stories, the novel Genestealer Cults, and the wicked short story Cast a Hungry Shadow (which features Chaos vs. Genestealer cult gang war and a ferocious, Mad Max: Fury Road inspired vehicle action setpiece), are out now. Grab your copies today!

And don't forget, you can go back and read the first interview with Peter Fehervari here.

Legal Disclaimer: The views and/or opinions expressed in this interview and in all articles of this blog are entirely the view of the author and are NOT in any way representative of Games Workshop PLC. All names, insignias, illustrations, et al. are the property, copyright, and/or trademark of Games Workshop Ltd, PLC. All names, titles, and illustrations used without permission, with no challenge to copyright/trademark status intended. All rights reserved by the proper owners.

HachiSnax Interviews: Peter Fehervari (Part I)

Today I am excited to introduce a new segment here at HachiSnax Reviews: the author interview. I realized that it has been close to two years now that the blog has been going, and I haven't had a single interview yet.

Our first interview will be with Peter Fehervari, author of Fire Caste, which is one of the best (and certainly deepest) novels put out by The Black Library.

Mr. Fehervari has been very supportive of the blog since it's beginning, and I am honored that he was gracious enough to take the time to open up and answer some questions.

Better yet, he provided some fairly intense and in-depth answers to the questions I pitched. Therefore, I will be breaking this interview into two or three parts. Enjoy!


H.S.: First of all, prior to your works being published with the Black Library, what was your personal background with the Warhammer/Warhammer 40,000 universe? Which armies did you field? And, going from this, how did it feel to have your first novel released by them?

P.F.: In one way I was there right at the beginning, but in another it took me a long time to get involved. Throughout my teens I’d make regular pilgrimages to Games Workshop’s original retail store in Hammersmith to pick up D&D related stuff, including the first wave of lead miniatures from Ral Partha and Grenadier. Though I collected the models obsessively it was the RPG aspect of the hobby – the stories and characters - that had me hooked, so I didn’t pay much attention to the wargaming side. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I dismissed Warhammer Fantasy as just another generic fantasy universe at the time, mainly because I was caught up in my own world-building, so it passed me by completely. But there was no missing the advent of 40k.

That first set of plastic Space Marines and the Rogue Trader book that accompanied them were total game changers for me. Even after all this time the picture that adorned both the model box and the book remains the iconic, perfect 40K image for me. Those embattled warriors making their doomed last stand against an unseen, but undoubtedly numberless horde caught my imagination as nothing had done since Star Wars overran my childhood. I had no idea who these guys were or why they were fighting, but I knew I had to find out.

So I read the book and in that labyrinthine, often chaotic – almost primordial – first incarnation of 40K I found the twisted evil brother of Star Wars who’d left his lightweight sibling whimpering in the playground with a bloody nose and a harsh dose of dark future shock. There’s so much about that book I could talk about, but I’ll content myself with the gloriously demented quote that crystallised this new background for me: ‘In a mad world only madmen prosper.’ Hellfire, this was the grim and grandiose SF mythology I’d been waiting for without even knowing it!

And yet… I confess I never actually played the game. At least not as it was intended.

I took what I loved from the background – along with as many models as my gaming group could afford – and remixed it into a bizarre fusion of RPG and wargaming where every model had a personality and a backstory and combat used D20s (because they were cooler than D6s!) and the plot always overruled the rules. Every game took days to play and the over-arching campaign… dear god, that’s still running almost twenty years later, though it’s a miracle if we play once a year these days. The first casualty of getting old is time so we probably won’t finish the arc we started in our teens until we’re pensioners!

So, from a gaming point of view I’m a heretic and would be at a loss if I attempted to play by the official rules. Besides I’ve never been anything but a games master because it was always about stories for me.

I guess my ‘heresy’ towards the game also comes through in my approach to the background because everything I’ve written has tended towards the eclectic, pushing at the edges of the traditional IP, but hopefully always staying true to its mad, dark spirit. And having said that, I’ve made a point of researching any faction I write about with a fastidiousness that borders on the obsessive. When writing within a shared universe, especially one as long running and intricately constructed as 40K, respect and due diligence for what’s come before must be a writer’s starting point. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say fear also plays a part in that equation. There are a great many passionate, highly intelligent people out there ready to send a storm of vitriol your way if you get something significant wrong - or for that matter something insignificant, because that little detail you missed or misrepresented or plain screwed up will matter to someone.

But it’s not just fear, there’s also a sense of responsibility. You don’t want to let those people down because you’re one of them and always will be. You just happen to be one of the lucky few who’ve been given the chance to put something back into this universe you all love so much. And in your heart you know there are countless talented people who’ll never get that precious chance so you really, really don’t want to squander the privilege. It’s a matter of honour to do the opportunity justice.

Which answers the last part of your question: how did I feel about getting something published by Black Library? Honoured and terrified in roughly equal measure pretty much sums it up, with the highs and the lows vacillating back-and-forth with every bit of feedback I got, even when it was a throwaway comment on an obscure forum. When you’re a new writer (and quite possibly long after) everything gets through to you because you go looking for it. You know you shouldn’t, but how can you not when you’ve sweated blood over getting that story out there? I’d be very surprised if most newcomers don’t feel this way and make the same mistake. And though I understand this intellectually I’m still doing it!

H.S.: What was your favorite Black Library title?

P.F.: Perhaps unsurprisingly I have a particular fondness for Simon Spurrier’s ‘Lord of the Night’. It’s an intense, often disturbing novel that’s bleak and bitter to the core. Consequently it’s not always an enjoyable read, but for me it captures the madness of 40K in a way that few other BL novels have done. There’s a grubby authenticity to the hive world and its seedy, broken inhabitants that grounded the action and made everything feel visceral and believable. I don’t mean to imply that this approach is the best or the right way to approach 40K, but it’s the one that resonates most with my perception of the background.

H.S.:Your debut novel, Fire Caste, is quite an exceptional book. There are so many aspects to it, which combined to elevate it to that level. Let’s talk about a few of them…

A cursory review of Fire Caste might term it as “Heart of Darkness (or Apocalypse Now) in Space”. Now, even though there are some similarities in structural elements, the notion of a man’s slow boat ride to Hell goes back to the most ancient of mythologies. Why was this theme such a linchpin to the narrative?

P.F.: It’s difficult, perhaps impossible, for me to speak objectively about ‘Fire Caste’ because I’m still so close to it, but it was certainly written with passion and conviction. I was given a lot of creative freedom with that book, which accounts for its eccentric style and individualistic take on 40K. Other than the title (which isn’t the one it was written under) not much changed from the first to the final draft so the responsibility for it’s success or failure, including the controversial ending, is entirely mine. And for that I’m very grateful to BL, because whatever else it is, that novel is personal.

Which kind of brings me to the ‘Heart of Darkness’ question.

OK, I have to hold my hands up here and admit I’m not a fan of Conrad’s novel. Despite its brevity I found it virtually impenetrable when I first read it in my teens. I revisited the story years later, but once again the dense slabs of prose and paucity of paragraph breaks made it a chore and I abandoned it halfway through. My third visit to Conrad’s Congo was prompted by the comparisons (both favourable and mocking) that ‘Fire Caste’ drew, which made returning an obligation of sorts. If nothing else, I had to know what people were talking about.

This time I saw the novel through to the end – finally - but try as I might, I still couldn’t click with it. Beyond my continued dislike of the style, it was the Kurtz figure (the original Kurtz in this case, so perhaps I can’t say ‘Kurtz figure’) that left me cold. He repelled me, but never disturbed me. He didn’t make me stare into a dark mirror and think ‘But for the grace of god, there go I’, which was surely the point.

So Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’ wasn’t a direct influence, but the theme of his novel – the journey into a darkness that’s both physical and spiritual, a journey that’s really a downward spiral that both repels and attracts, yes, that’s definitely something the books share. Like ‘the Fall from Grace’, the ‘Journey into Darkness’ is one of the great archetypal stories of our dark side. In essence it’s a true story, which is what makes it worth telling over and over again.

But why did I set my version on a river?

Well of course ‘Apocalypse Now’ was a loose inspiration for that, along with a more obscure film by Werner Herzog called ‘Aguirre, Wrath of God’, which was about a band of demented conquistadores travelling up the Amazon in search of gold (I highly recommend it if you like dark and strange films), but ultimately it came down to the specific qualities of a river journey – the notion of a path that will carry you deeper into the unknown even if you stop trying, a path that can twist and turn back on itself – into itself - going everywhere or nowhere and challenging you to see a difference… which is how I interpret the ‘downward spiral’ of the human soul. That delirious geography makes for a striking metaphor for the long, dissolving fall into darkness, which is why the drowned wilderness in the book was called the Dolorosa [or Sorrow’s] Coil.

Reflecting on all this – and particularly writing it down! - I realise I’m running the risk of coming across as pompous or pretentious, and undoubtedly some readers saw the novel exactly that way (and tedious to boot). If you buy a book called ‘Fire Caste’ you expect a story focussed on tau warriors fighting courageously for the Greater Good, hopefully with some insights into their culture along the way. What you definitely don’t expect is a story about the Imperial Guard going insane along a river haunted by ghosts, daemons and fungoid mutants to cheer them along. Hell, this isn’t even a regiment you’ve ever heard of! And anyway, is this the kind of story that’s even appropriate for a 40K tie-in?

Well, I can offer no defence for the title, though I take no responsibility for it either. The novel was pitched as ‘The Long Road to Hell’ and written under the name, ‘Thunderground’ (the spiritual testing ground that underpins the Arkan regiment), but the final title was out of my hands. The rest of it, as I’ve said, is entirely my responsibility so I want to say a couple of things on that.

First, I’d suggest that the dividing line between pretension and depth is drawn by sincerity. If a writer’s exploration of ‘the deep’ is driven by a genuine desire to make sense of things then it’s a valid journey, even if it ultimately fails. However, if it’s only a veneer of pseudo-intellectual sparkle then it’s just bullshit and deserves only contempt. Of course I don’t have many – any! – real answers to the Darkness, but ‘Fire Caste’ was a journey I made in good faith. The criticism that hit me hardest wasn’t from the Amazon reader who was outraged by my use of civil war imagery (apparently he was waiting for Lincoln to pop-up in a stovepipe hat…), but from a very measured reader who felt the book was ultimately ‘409 pages of misery and suffering without a real point.’ I’m still thinking about that because if he’s right then I failed utterly.

Second, is a 40K tie-in the right place to tell this kind of story? Hell, yes! My love for 40K wouldn’t have lasted over twenty years if I didn’t believe it could embrace such stories. The scope of its mythology, cultures and characters is virtually limitless and the metaphysics underpinning it all – Chaos – is a masterwork of twisted psychology. It’s a universe steeped in darkness, within and without, therefore it offers the perfect canvas for weighty, challenging stories, as the best of BL’s authors have demonstrated many times. Equally it can accommodate lighter, more action-oriented tales (and the overall balance should probably tilt towards those), but it would be a tragedy if writers didn’t make risky forays into its depths, even if they occasionally drown. Sorry, I’m overdoing the metaphors…


H.S.: Fire Caste has an undeniably emotional tone throughout it, and I would wager that it is a very personal work. There is an old story that when members of KISS stopped by Marvel Comics to check on the progress of a comic book being made about them, they donated some of their own blood to mix with the red ink. How much of your own blood did you leave on the pages you wrote?


P.F.: Honestly… a lot of blood. ‘Fire Caste’ was written during a very challenging period of my life and I’m sure that shows through on every page, which is probably why some readers found it hard going. Getting it finished was my ‘Thunderground’ (one reason why I passionately wanted to retain that title) and Commissar Iverson and I became very close during that struggle. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but it’s how I know the journey we made was true, if not necessarily real. And why I’ll have to continue it someday, somehow. There’s unfinished business between Iverson and myself.

Well, that's it for Part I. Hope you enjoyed it!

Peter's debut novel, Fire Caste, was released by The Black Library in 2013. He has also released various short stories with The Black Library, many of which are set on the hellish jungle world of Phaedra. His latest story is Vanguard, which focuses on an elite detachment of Adeptus Mechanicus Skitarii warriors, sent behind Tau enemy lines to retrieve a precious asset.

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