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INTERVIEW
Minutes to Burn is a broad-ranging novel that incorporates numerous
genres and fields. How would you label it?
Well,
that’s the problem, really. The book has a strong military
component, but it’s certainly not a straightforward military
thriller. A virus plays a key role in the plot, but I’m not
focused exclusively on that either. One of my aims in writing
this book was to incorporate those aspects of thrillers I like
-- the military thriller, the Crichton science thriller,
travel-adventure books in the tradition of Into Thin Air -- and
create something wholly new. Minutes to Burn is really an
eco-thriller because it’s not about the location alone, or the
virus, or the animals of Galápagos, but rather the way all
these things come together at a particular time within a
specific environment, to form a stressful and dangerous series
of events. Ozone depletion, scorching sunlight, earth-shattering
quakes -- these aren’t even the main concerns our protagonists
have to contend with, they’re merely the backdrop of this
mission on which they embark.
And
though it features a creature, it’s not a “creature book.”
No,
it’s not. Most projects of this type with which we’re
familiar -- Them or Aliens, for instance -- feature these
horrifying creatures that we know immediately are trouble. We
know the right decision is for the protagonists to kill them.
Here, I wanted to present a conflict closer to how it might
occur in the real world. If a new species of animal was
discovered in the Galápagos, one of the most important
protected parks in the world, how would events really proceed?
How would we treat this scientific phenomenon? I wanted to
capture some of that excitement. Now what if you hypothesized
that this animal might grow predatory, and what if you were
alone on an island with it? That’s a real problem with no easy
solution. There’s a legitimate environmentalist argument to be
made, but also a legitimate protect-your-ass argument. If you
were an ardent preservationist, but you were stuck alone in a
room with a gun and a hungry panther, all of a sudden your
options and convictions change. Perhaps.
And
the debate between the group on the mission -- a squad of Navy
SEALs and several scientists -- progresses from there.
Yes,
but I would hope in an unpredictable fashion. I wanted to
portray a sufficiently ambiguous scenario so that members of
both camps -- the SEALs and the scientists -- could make
arguments for either side. So we have some unusual allegiances
and some instances of perceived betrayal.
There
seems to be a variety of personalities among the Navy SEALs
alone.
I
had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with a broad range of
team members, from old-school guys who’d been in for twenty
years, to younger members who’d done a three-year stint, then
gone into another line of work. The differences and occasional
friction among old- and new-school was really interesting to me,
and I made a point of representing it in the book. William
Savage is a hardcore, old-school, un-PC, take-no-prisoners
warrior, yet he finds himself under the command of a younger,
more politically aware, perhaps less operationally gifted crew.
You
portray the SEALs and the military-relevant aspects of the
mission very convincingly. Do you have a military background?
Not
at all. I have the opposite background in some regards. I’m
from a very liberal family and community and grew up having very
little exposure to the military. And all of a sudden, I was
immersed in this other world, eating MREs [meals, ready-to-eat],
shooting MP5s on SWAT ranges, and practicing hand-to-hand combat
-- much to the derisive amusement of my SEALs friends.
How’d
you do at the hand-to-hand?
I
got my ass kicked convincingly. [Laughter]
How'd
you get access to the SEALs, by the way? Did you just phone them
up and say you wanted to write a novel in which SEALs featured?
Well,
the first SEAL with whom I worked was a friend of a friend, so
that was easy enough. I took him to dinner and laid out what I
was trying to do and he thought it sufficiently interesting to
help. Then, as various issues arose during my writing, he
introduced me to a sniper, who introduced me to a breacher, who
introduced me to a 60-gunner. These guys are notorious for being
protectively silent to the media -- like most high-trained
operators in secretive fields, they don’t like to talk. I was
fortunate to be brought into the loop by a friend, but I still
had to earn the trust of every new frogman whom I interviewed.
It took months for some of the old school guys to really open
up, and then I had an agreement with them so they could talk
on-the-record or off-the-record.
In
the book, several of your characters are female Navy SEALs. In
real life, are there female Navy SEALs?
Besides
Demi Moore? No -- no there aren’t. And this was cause for an
argument between me and one of my old-school SEAL friends, who
was irate that I’d put females in my fictional squad. I took
care not to make the material preachy, and I also took care to
portray the other mentality but I wanted to have these strong
women present in the narrative. They’re tough and physical,
but they’re also flawed, just like any other soldier.
Cameron
is really the center of the book, in certain regards.
Yes,
she is. More than anyone else, she’s the active protagonist,
trying to process all these arguments and perspectives and
assimilate them into a course of action. She’s got Savage,
bloodthirsty and perennially combat-ready on the one hand;
Diego, the Galápagos ecologist, advocating an apparently more
sophisticated argument on the other hand; and the rest of the
crew falling somewhere in between. When the extremists are
banging heads, Cameron’s the one gathering information, and
eventually she has to come into her own and start making the
kinds of decisions she was previously unable to.
And
she’s pregnant going into the mission.
Yes,
though she’s only just found out, and she’s unsure if she
wants the baby. So she carries this burden into the mission, and
it adds another level of concern and tension to her actions and
decisions. Since her husband, Justin, is also present, she’s
feeling pressure from all angles.
It
seems you take an unusual amount of care when dealing with
characterization for a book that’s so plot-driven.
This
book really came alive for me with my characters. In my
conceptualizing stage, I deal with characters first, and let the
plot follow. Minutes to Burn really started coming together when
my characters reached a level of development that the scenes
became about them as much as about what they were facing.
That’s when you’re hooked into a character, as an author --
when your character acts distinctively in the face of a dilemma.
Authentic fiction, to me, is about a particular character acting
in a distinctive way in the face of a particular conflict. And
so each scene in Minutes was about Cameron -- or Savage, or
Samantha -- in a particular conflict. The scenes weren’t just
about the conflicts themselves.
You’ve
created this array of locations, all of them vividly rendered.
Though the majority of the book is set in the Galápagos, we
also get taken through earthquake-rent Guayaquil, the Fort
Detrick virus labs in Maryland, and the New Center for
Ecotectonic Studies in Sacramento. Was it difficult keeping all
these balls in the air?
It
was, first of all from a pacing perspective, because I didn’t
want us to fall out of any one world when we enter another. I
wanted to check in occasionally on these other locations at key
moments, when I could keep ratcheting up the action and
suspense, and bring greater tension to the narrative. Guayaquil
in particular was rewarding to write about, because I spent the
better part of a week there, and it’s a simultaneously an
appealing and off-putting city -- dirty, humid, overcrowded, and
magical all at once. I remember the first time I saw La Ciudad
Blanca [a vast cemetery, filled with white marble monuments], I
was blown away. You cross this foot bridge from a run-down part
of town and all of a sudden, you’re in this incredible white
marble world that’s a testament to the losses the country has
endured through its history. And at once, my imagination started
going. There were so many possibilities here, if major
earthquakes struck this city. And I knew I’d have to take my
squad through here.
How
about the other two locations? Fort Detrick and the New Center?
It
took a lot of research to get down the realities and specifics
of the Biosafety Level Four labs at Fort Detrick. That location
really came together for me around a character, the Chief of the
Disease Assessment Division, Samantha Everett, this 5’2”
pistol, who is competent and brilliant and slightly off-kilter.
She was one of the easiest characters to write because she was
so distinctive when she first came to me. The New Center for
Ecotectonic Studies is entirely fictional -- both the New Center
itself, and the actual field of study. I spoke to several
geologists and marine biologists, and started to see some
possibilities in the direction contemporary research is moving
in both fields. If the type of environmental crisis I write
about in Minutes to Burn actually occurred, there would be a
need for a field such as ecotectonics. And even without a
crisis, I think there’s a decent possibility that ecotectonics
will be a real field in the future, though probably under a
different name.
Do
you have natural proclivities toward science?
No.
I spent much of high school chemistry and physics trying
desperately not to make eye contact with the teacher. But I
always had an interest in biology, particularly evolutionary
biology, so I was drawn to narratives that play with related
ideas. When I started thinking about writing a book such as
this, I figured what better place to set it than in Darwin’s
backyard? So I read everything related I could get my hands on,
loaded up on notepads and pens, and headed down to Galápagos.
But the science -- the science was definitely a challenge for
me. I had to gird my loins before some of those conversations
with my scientist consultants, and do double-time on my own
reading and research to make sure I could keep up with the
answers to my questions. I worked with everyone from a geologist
out of Berkeley to an entomologist stationed in the heart of the
Amazon basin, so it took a lot of effort to stay on top of
things.
But
maybe that provided you with an advantage, not being totally
up-to-speed on the science.
I’d
like to think so. Even though I get into some pretty in-depth
science here, I think I was able to convey it clearly and
concisely, because I’m not steeped in years of scientific
argot. And I tried to deploy the information dramatically,
through action, so I never subject the reader to blocks of
regurgitated research. No one wants to read an extensive
treatise on the waved albatross courtship dance in the middle of
an adventure thriller.
It’s
clear from the book that you fell in love with the Galápagos.
It’s
almost impossible not to. It’s a completely bizarre, entirely
unique place. You swim with turtles and penguins and sharks,
then walk up on these barren lava plains covered with marine
iguanas. As you move upslope, you cross through distinct
ecological zones -- literally distinct, in color even -- each
with their own individual environment and forms of life. And
since there’s such a dearth of life, birds fly up and land on
your head. It’s like being in a Disney cartoon.
I
wasn’t aware that the Galápagos had dense forests, like the
Scalesia forest where you set much of the book’s action.
Only
at two to six hundred meters elevation. And most of the islands
don’t reach that altitude -- you really have to go to Isabela,
Santa Cruz, or San Cristóbal to see the Scalesias. Santiago
used to have a more extensive Scalesia zone, but most of it has
been destroyed by goats.
The
Scalesia forest is a haunted place in your book.
Well,
the Scalesias are up at this higher altitude, away from the
sounds of the waves and the tourists, and there’s a real quiet
to them. A garúa mist sort of settles over the trees like a
shroud. And there are lava tunnels beneath the ground, and dead
vines twisting around branches, and the occasional whistle of a
hidden bird, and you really start to think that this is not
somewhere you’d like to spend the night alone.
You
mentioned that goats have destroyed much of the Scalesia forest
on Santiago. You really tackle the issue of introduced species
in the book.
Well,
it’s an essential concern to Galápagos. All sorts of foreign
plants and animals have been brought over, and they’ve begun
to aggressively out-compete some of the endemic species. The
balance of the islands’ ecology is immensely fragile -- life
took hold there in tiny, measured steps. Turtles floated out,
aided by the pocket of air beneath their shell, light spores of
plants blew out from the continent, birds brought plant seeds
out caked on the mud on their feet. Spiders even got sucked up
in wind currents and were carried out there from the mainland.
The short of it is, you can’t all of a sudden have a bunch of
settlers bring pigs and goats and elephant grass. Because
there’s very little in the islands’ ecology system to oppose
such introduced species, or halt their proliferation. At one
time, there were 80,000 goats on Santiago. They just kept
reproducing and reproducing, and there was nothing there to stop
them. They chewed the island’s vegetation down to the lava.
Park officials finally had to go out and just start shooting
them. In the 1970s, a pack of wild dogs attacked a land iguana
colony on Santa Cruz and killed over five hundred of them. Five
hundred! The bodies were just lying around rotting. And that’s
because the species has never -- through natural selection --
had traits selected that would allow them to contend with a
predator such as a dog. So they just lie there and get
slaughtered.
And
these issues are all brought to bear, in Minutes to Burn, when a
new species is discovered.
Exactly.
You have this fragile place, preserved by scientists and
ecologists, and then all of a sudden there are massive
earthquakes and skin-blistering UV rays, and Navy SEALs tromping
around, and just when things are most tentative, this new animal
is discovered.
And
there are cultural tensions as well.
To
capture this struggle, this debate, I really had to spend a lot
of time down in Galápagos and learn the unique culture of the
islands–it’s its own world, not really Ecuador, not really
its own country. Fishermen and ecologists are at war with each
other, one group trying to subside, the other trying to
preserve. Just this year, a group of fishermen stormed the
Darwin Station and kidnapped the turtle hatchlings scientists
had been cultivating to revive the dwindling population. It’s
really nuts. There’s corruption and tourism and frustrated
locals, and in the middle of it, these ecologists hard at work
trying to preserve everything.
Tourism
is kind of a sticky issue, isn't it? You were a tourist, so the
question is: does tourism take more than it gives? Should
"tourism" be limited to the people who can, either
through their money (donations) or their work (e.g., writing a
popular eco-thriller), account for their having tromped around
the Galápagos?
Well,
tourism accounts for so much of the money that goes into
maintaining and preserving the archipelago (in fact, Galapagos
tourism is the leading source of money for all of Ecuador), so
it is this double-edged sword. And, aside from the town of
Puerto Ayora, tourists can’t set foot anywhere on the islands
without a qualified ecologist guide, who is very careful to keep
everyone on the trails, limiting the number of people on any
island at a given time, etc. So there are responsible ways to be
a tourist, and irresponsible ways. Because of some of the
contacts I’d made in Puerto Ayora and at the Darwin Station, I
was sort of half-tourist, half researcher, which gave me a bit
more flexibility, and attuned me to responsible standards of
behavior.
What
about the tensions between Americans and Ecuadorians.
We’re
not known to be the most environmentally considerate nation on
earth, so there is a lot of resentment on the islands for what
is perceived as a bunch of gringos taking snapshots and buying
black coral trinkets. Then here’s this squad of hard-hitting
Navy SEALs coming down saying, “I’m supposed to wash the mud
from my boots before leaving each island?”
So
they don’t accidentally transport seeds or insect eggs from
one island to another.
Exactly.
This type of thing -- “Dispose of apple cores carefully” is
not in the list of operational concerns for high-demand
operators. It’s not like, “Clear and safe weapons.” “Jam
extra magazines.”
Would
you like to see this book turned into a movie?
Absolutely.
Did
you write it with that in mind?
You
can’t write a book with an eye to a film, or else all you’ll
wind up with is a fleshed-out screenplay. The rules and demands
of the forms are so different that you can’t try to accomplish
both within one context. I think my writing style is visual, and
inherently suited to film, but that’s different than saying
that I write with the movie in mind. Does that make sense?
Yes.
Why do you think your writing style is so visual?
Well,
to begin with, plot-driven fiction, as a general rule, tends to
be more visually oriented because you have more action and less
musing. But I also grew up on and love movies, so film forms a
large part of my aesthetic. So even when I’m working on a
novel, I’d prefer to have a clue represented in a dynamic
action -- which tends to be visual -- rather than have it become
illuminated through a character’s exposition or thought. This
doesn’t mean that it will be carried over in the script or
movie. So much changes from book to film, it would be foolish to
try to predict and write toward that.
And
you’re currently working on the adaptation for Richard
Marcinko’s Rogue Warrior for Jerry Bruckheimer films?
I’m
rewriting it, yes. There have been writers before me, and there
will probably be writers after. [Laughs]
Rogue
Warrior is, of course, the archetypal Navy SEALs project. Did
Minutes to Burn land you the job?
It
was a number of things, but, yes, I think the level of my
research on Minutes to
Burn was essential.
Do
you have a preference for writing novels or screenplays?
Definitely.
I’m first and foremost a novelist. I only work on scripts
occasionally to take a break, clear my palate. I love writing
screenplays -- they present an entirely new set of challenges
and rewards -- but I think novels will always come first for me.
What
percent of your time is spent working on novels versus
screenplays?
I’d
say ninety percent of my time is spent on novels.
This
book represents a pretty marked departure from your first novel.
The Tower is a psychological thriller, and this book is all the
things we’ve been discussing, but it’s certainly not a
psychological thriller. Why did you decide to jump from one type
of thriller to another?
Because
what I love best about writing novels is that it’s a perennial
education. In the course of writing this book, I got to explore
all these fields that were of interest to me -- it was an
education in and of itself. And I wanted to explore new areas
and, in this case, new parts of the world. I think that’s what
will keep my fiction fresh. If it’s being written on the
cutting edge of my interest and investigations, I think I can
bring more excitement to it.
Forgive
the standard question, but who are your favorite authors?
My
reading is pretty evenly split between -- what people refer to
as -- commercial and literary fiction. I’m a big Faulkner
fanatic, and I’ve recently been getting into Mailer and Tim
O’Brien. And on the other hand, I think Thomas Harris is
unparalleled. And I love Lehane, Michael Connolly, T. Jefferson
Parker. Guys who bring more to the form, who elevate their
fiction above it. I also have a real appreciation for Peter
Benchley, since I think Jaws really reinvented the
science/creature narrative. Plus, he recently wrote a great
National Geographic article on Galápagos.
Is
there an author on whose career you would model your own?
I
don’t think so. Not across the board. But in terms of range, I
would say Crichton. I have a tremendous amount of respect for
Crichton because of his energy, and the range of his skill and
knowledge. I mean, he’s taken us from dinosaurs to Japanese
business to emergency rooms to viruses to sexual harassment
cases. It’s amazing how effectively he’s been able to tap
into the zeitgeist and open up new worlds and new discussions to
people. Stephen King is another one -- I’ve read every single
novel. Some people view him exclusively as a horror writer, but
the range of topics he’s actually tackled is staggering. And
some of his works have a depth that one would not be strained to
call brilliant.
I
notice earlier you said “what people refer to as commercial
and literary fiction.” Is that not a distinction you find
valid?
I
think it’s useful but extremely limited. Thomas Harris writes
with a depth of character and grace of language you’d be
hard-pressed to find in ten percent of writers considered
“literary.” And the terms “commercial” and
“literary” have come to be diluted. People forget that
Dickens was a bestseller in his day, as was Faulkner. And even
recently, Tom Wolfe and Toni Morrison have little trouble
finding their way onto the bestseller list. It’s not a
particularly original sentiment, but I think the most essential
difference is between good fiction and bad fiction.
And
there’s generally no shortage of either.
True.
Do
you have any advice for people who read Minutes to Burn and are
inspired to visit the Galápagos?
Bring
sunblock.
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