What inspired you to write this parallel Moby-Dick?

A silly joke. The joke of Moby-Dick, except with moles instead of whales. I thought of that, and it made me laugh. Of course there's nothing new about retelling Moby-Dick with other beasts - there have been dragon Moby-Dicks, dust monster Moby-Dicks, flying monster Moby-Dicks, etc etc. I liked the idea of the mole, though, because moles are such lovely and - in my head - adorable animals, and the necessary translation or mistranslation of them into what I wanted - enormous, astounding, epic terrors - was a big ask, which I thought might be enjoyable. For me, though, though I don't mind pegging a story on a joke, having decided to write it, I want to treat it as seriously as possible, So while I hope there are genuinely funny bits in the book, I didn't want to make the whole thing just a gag, I wanted to quickly forget how absurd the idea was - though it is absurd and that was part of the whole point - and start to treat it as if it was epic. That's a game I enjoy. I also didn't want to write something that was just a parallel - I know some people like them, but I don't overmuch enjoy stories that exactly point-for-point retell other stories. So I knew I wanted Moby-Dick to be a peg, an inspiration, a riff, an echo, but for my story to wander off and do very different things. (Visiting Robert Louis Stevenson, Daniel Defoe, Joan Aiken, and lots of other writers on the way.)

Which character from Railsea do you identify most with?

The one I would most like to be like is Caldera. The one I fear I am most like is Sham at the start.

If you could be trapped on a desert island in the middle of the Railsea, with any of the characters, who would you choose and why? Personally, I would choose to be trapped with the twins, Caldera and Caldero, because they are resourceful and determined, while are also likely to be able to fashion together some sort of craft out of salvage, using the skills their parents taught them, allowing us to escape.

I think your answer is very persuasive. For overlapping reasons, I would probably choose Sirocco. She is not as admirable or as inventive as the Shroakes, but I like her swagger, and I think she would be entertainingly foul-mouthed if annoyed.

On p8 of Railsea you write, "Lights winked in her bulky, composite left arm. It's metal & ivory clicked & twitched". Was Railsea influenced by the steampunk movement and was it your intention to appeal to a steampunk audience or was it merely coincidence?

I'm sure the book was influenced by steampunk, but at least at a conscious level I wanted it very much not to be a steampunk book. It is no coincidence that the train itself is not a steam train. That there are electric trains, hand-powered trains, and so on, as well as the now culturally ubiquitous steam-engines. I wanted it to be a world in which there was more of a patchwork of technology than a Victorian-era level of technology, even a fantasticated and imaginary one. I like to think of this as a salvagepunk book, rather than a steampunk one.

In Railsea, on page 143, you explore "&", and its relationship with the Railsea itself. What inspired you to include this? Why did you wait until Chapter 33 to explain why you used the symbol & instead of the word "and"?

I love ampersands, which is the utterly beautiful name for those utterly beautiful "&" signs, and I always have. I love their sweep and height, I love that such a tiny word has such a splendidly rococo alternative, I like everything about them. In addition, I associate them with 18th century maritime narratives - in my mind, ships logs from that time use them in big ink swirls - which I wanted my story to echo off, so it seemed a perfect excuse to use them. I put the "explanation" in later, rather than earlier, because I sort of vaguely felt like I knew it might annoy some readers to use the & all the way through, and that to jump in too quickly with an explanation might feel a bit like I was saying "Look! It's ok! I have a reason! Don't go away!" which felt a little bit cowardly. I'd rather keep people interested, if I can, even despite their eyes twitching a little at the &-signs (which not everyone's does, of course, some people love them or don't care), and then have an explanation when they've already surrendered to the ampersand.

On a recent visit to a 16th century house called East Riddlesdon Hall, I found an early Victorian child's sampler that used the ampersand (&) as a full stop. Have you ever come across this before and do you have any idea why they might have done this?

I have never heard of this, and I am quite fascinated. And troubled: my typographical philosophy is being shaken.

Within Un Lun Dun, you acknowledge the fact that Neil Gaiman's book, Neverwhere gave you "indispensable contributions to London's phantasmagoria". Are there any other specific books "indispensable" to the writing of both Un Lun Dun and Railsea?

So very many I don't know where to start. Lewis Carroll's Alice books, Joan Aiken's books, especially The Wolves of Willoughby Chase and The Whispering Mountain, Alan Garner's astonishing books, Michael de Larrabeiti's Borrible trilogy, Ivor Cutler and Helen Oxenbury's Meal One, Norton Juster's Phantom Tollbooth, Enid Blyton's Faraway Tree books (for all that they make me wince, now), Else Holmelund Minarik's A Kiss for Little Bear (with Sendak's illustrations), the books of Jan Pienkowski, Ursula Le Guin's Earthsea books, Tanith Lee's Prince on a White Horse, so...

Was it your intention to write a story similar to Neverwhere, but suitable for younger children?

With Un Lun Dun? Not deliberately. I think Neverwhere stands quite outstandingly enough on its own that to write a "version" of it would be disastrous! I started writing Un Lun Dun before I'd actually read Neverwhere, but when I did read it I realised of course there were strong echoes. I see echoes with lots of books in all my books, some deliberate, some unconscious until later, and as long as that is respectful I think that's great - writing on the shoulders of other writers is a privilege.

Did you severely alter your writing style to make your work appeal to children?

Not exactly. Every book I write, the first thing I have to do is get into the voice, and the voice varies from book to book - that's part of what's interesting to me. So the voices between, say, Kraken and Embassytown (two of my "adult" books) I think varies considerably, and similarly the voice between Un Lun Dun and Railsea. Of course, who you're writing for is part of the decision about the voice of the book, so to that extent, yes, sort of - but the person you're writing for is (sorry to repeat what is a cliche, but it's true) yourself - though yourself at different times and in different moods. So when I wrote Railsea, I was very much wanting to write a story for myself at a certain age. I tried to inhabit the voice that would excite and win over and appeal to and interest that me, rather than thinking "now to write to appeal to children". I wouldn't know how - but I do know how to tell younger-me a story he would like, I think and hope.

After seeing children's initial response's to Un Lun Dun, did you change your writing style in any other ways when it came to writing Railsea?

I'm sure I changed my style - I mean, I think the two books have very different voices - but not in terms of thinking "this is what readers/children/anyone wants". I think I would be very bad at second-guessing that, and honestly it's not something I'm wildly excited about or interested in doing. I'm much more interested in writing in a voice that excites me and trying to do it in a way that I can win people over. To that extent - and I'm repeating something I've said before, for which apologies, but occasionally a line comes out of your mouth that is useful enough that you end up recycling it - I don't think my job is to try to give readers what they want; I think my job is to try to make readers want what I give.

Of course, I may fail!

You seem to have a specific interest in the damage we are doing to the environment and how it is affecting us. (The Smog, Upsky, and the origins of the Railsea). Why is this?

Well, the interest is simply that such degradation and despoliation is enormously worrying. There is also something awesome - awful, but awesome - awe-ful - about those ruined landscapes. There is something both dreadful but also compelling about those visions. I don't think I'm alone in this - lots of cultural bits and pieces, while they're sincerely concerned about pollution, say, are also endlessly fascinated with depicting it in amazing, even beautiful ways. Culture often has it both ways like that. All of which said, I think in the context of a story, I'm happy to use these ideas for texture, to give me, and hopefully some readers something to chew on, but they aren't intended to be tracts making political arguments. That wouldn't work. The Smog in Un Lun Dun obviously has something to do, yes, with environmental issues, but within the story, above and beyond all that, it has to be an enjoyable, scary monster.

Is it the role of all science fiction writers to be prophetic like HG Wells?

I think science fiction is very bad at prediction. That doesn't mean no ideas from SF ever end up, in some complicated, half-accurate, circuitous way finding some kind of reality in the world. Obviously, sometimes that does happen. But far, far, far more of the ideas of SF never turn real, and the ones that do often do so in very misleading ways. None of this is a criticism! I know some people think it is the role of SF to be prophetic: I don't. I think the role of science fiction is not at all to prophecy. I think it is to tell interesting, vivid, strange stories that at their best are dreamlike intense versions and visions of today.

You seem to have a fascination with subverting creatures usually considered innocent and harmless into deadly beasts. Is this to try and control and manipulate your readers, taking them out of their comfort zone?

Personally, as I was so immersed in the story, it did not initially strike me as odd within the context of the story. I suppose possibly to some extent, but in an ideal world you'd hope you're pushing readers enjoyably out of comfort zones with all sorts of things, not only with the animals. But as one component of that? Certainly! It's also, as I mentioned before, an enjoyment in jokes. Nothing more sophisticated than trying to make something incredibly adorable and cute really scary and either evil or terrifying or both. And, I suppose, there's nothing to preclude vice versa. Perhaps a cuddly pet shark or something might crop up.

You also seem to have an interest in the mammoth and the gigantic. Is there a specific reason for this?

Doubtless. But I'm often the last to know the reasons behind My Things. In this case, there's something about disobedient scale which is endlessly intoxicating. Not only to me, of course - it's a common bit of brain candy. But it's one to which I am indeed thoroughly addicted. Something about making the normal strange, I think. Tentatively.



Can we please note, just in case anyone is reading this who might want to come innocent to the books, that the following question contains mild SPOILERS!

Both Railsea and Un Lun Dun come to satisfying conclusions (eg the happy ever after scenario). Do you plan to continue this approach in future children's books?

It would entirely depend on the book. It's certainly not something about which I have a principle in general. I do tend to feel happy and to be enjoying myself when I'm writing books with younger readers - with my younger self - in mind, so maybe that's why, but I'd like to reserve the right to write something thoroughly miserable in that vein, too. Not that I'm in a hurry to, but you never know.

Are you ever tempted to end with a cliffhanger or kill off the hero/heroine?

Cliffhangers, no. (Though some of my other books some people think end in that unresolved manner. I don't - I think they always reach a resolution, but I can accept there's a reasonable disagreement about it.) The death of a heroine or hero? Certainly, if I felt like it was appropriate for the book. Awful things have happened to some of my protagonists in some of my other books, and might do again. I am terrible at sad films, but I don't dislike sad books in the same way.

Who are Indigo and Oscar, the people you have dedicated your children's books to?

You are the first person ever to ask me that. Kudos. Indigo is my niece, my sister's daughter. Oscar is the son of a very good friend of mine.

Can you tell us what are you working on next?

Some short stories, a long novel, some non-fiction, bit of this, bit of that. I know that's really vague, and I apologise if I'm being annoying. I don't mean to be coy - I just get very superstitious about talking about work in progress. It feels like a dreadful hostage to fortune to announce it to the universe while it is still in the process of being formed. It feels like the universe will punish me - and the writing - for my presumption. So I'd rather stay a bit schtum.

Are there any plans for an Un Lun Dun film in the near future?

We have had some conversations with film-makers at various points, and some people have been excited about the idea, but nothing concrete. I would be happy if something interesting came along, and I'm very open-minded, but I think setting your hopes on film stuff is a good and efficient way to make yourself go crazy, so I attempt to opt out of such aspirations. One day, perhaps, but I wouldn't hold your breath.

Lastly I have a suggestion for you, why not write a short story about what the Olympics would be like in Un Lun Dun?

This is a startling and excellent idea. Immediately various sporting events are suggesting themselves to me. I am grateful to you for the suggestion. I do ruminate on a return to Deeba and Zanna one day, so who knows?

Thank you so much!