I just heard the news that Maureen Seaton passed away on August 26th. I’m saddened by the loss but grateful that we will always have her poetry.
A long time ago when I was at a crossroads, Maureen encouraged me to be authentic, to take creative risks, to defy expectations, to be a poet. When I think about the people who have been muses or angels in my life, who have inspired and encouraged me, Maureen is on that list.
A beloved teacher & mentor, talented poet, beautiful soul, she will be missed.
Thank you to Atthis Arts, and to the writers and translators who worked so hard to get all the necessary information submitted in time for consideration.
More information to come soon about who is involved, how you can support us, and the options for ordering a copy for yourself (and for your friends and family)!
I am excited to share with you the news that I am editing an anthology of Ukrainian speculative fiction, including fantasy, science fiction, horror, magic realism, and alternate history!
The title of the anthology is Embroidered Worlds: Fantastic Fiction from Ukraine and the Diaspora, and it will be published by Detroit publisher Atthis Arts. Thank you to E.D.E. Bell and Chris Bell of Atthis Arts for believing in this project.
The majority of stories included in the anthology will be from writers in Ukraine, and for most of them it will be the first time their work will be translated into English. Writers of the Ukrainian diaspora have contributed stories as well, drawing from varying degrees of connection to their heritage and ancestral homeland, illustrating the complex and diverse ways we celebrate and re-imagine culture.
Most of the work soliciting stories from writers in Ukraine can be credited to the perseverance of my Ukrainian co-editors, Olha Brylova and Iryna Pasko. This anthology would not exist without them. Also instrumental were members of the science fiction community who began exploring this idea after Russia attacked Ukraine on February 24, 2022. They shepherded this project through many stages until it came into my hands. I am so grateful to them for all their hard work.
This anthology is important to me because it represents a collection of possibilities. It is an expansive experience of the Ukrainian imagination, which dares to remember history and dares to dream of freedom, justice, and peace.
Largely due to Russian colonial imperialism and russification policies, a few decades ago it was nearly impossible to find Ukrainian literature in the United States, especially translated into English.
Kazky was my favorite of the children’s readers and workbooks (Tut I Tam series) published by Alberta Education in Canada in 1977.
Growing up in Chicago in the 1970s and 80s, my sources for Ukrainian stories were either my grandparents or the stories I read for Ukrainian School on Saturday mornings. Some were Xerox-copied from books that our teachers owned, others were smuggled overseas or purchased from Canada.
Nowhere outside of the Ukrainian spaces we inhabited (church, school, folk dancing, scouts), nowhere in the American spaces of my life, did I hear about anyone like me or my family. I have no doubt that my love of world mythology came from my scouring books of myths from around the world trying to find any that came from Ukraine.
In my “American life,” I was instead asked if a teacher or a new acquaintance could shorten my name to Val, because it was “easier to pronounce” or “sounded more American.” I was told that Ukraine “isn’t a real country” or it’s “a part of Russia” or I’m “practically Polish.”
So we clung to any mention of Ukraine or Ukrainians on the news, in the Olympics, in popular culture. From a very young age, I loved the Beatles for giving a lyrical shout out to “Ukraine girls” in “Back in the USSR.” Even though they included the problematic “the” before Ukraine, still, here was proof. We existed! Someone thought we were real and beautiful.
When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, Ukraine declared its independence, and there was so much celebration and hope. My grandparents, Baba and Dido, had feared they would not live to see an independent Ukraine — but they did. Ukraine and her people were free!
In the thirty years since, there have been many stories and books written in Ukrainian, and some have been translated into English. For anyone who is interested in reading more about modern Ukrainian speculative fiction, I recommend reading “SciFi in Ukraine” by Michael Burianyk, in Locus magazine.
This week I was talking with my parents about the ongoing atrocities in Ukraine, and my father repeated something he has said many times since the war began: “I’m just glad Baba and Dido are not here to see this.” I cannot even fathom how much it would hurt their hearts to see the land that they loved so much, that they raised their children and grandchildren to love and cherish and celebrate, being ravaged in such a horrible way. Again.
How many stories will never be written? How many voices have been lost forever, both in battle and in Russia’s senseless attacks on civilians?
Members of the Ukrainian diaspora have been trying to help in any way we can: financially, emotionally, and politically, in public and private spaces. More than ever, it is important for us to amplify the voices of the Ukrainian people, to share their stories and art and poems and songs.
Culture is the container for everything that the diverse populations of Ukraine hold dear. It contains the ideas and ideals, the history and future that the Ukrainian people are fighting and dying for.
“Often ignored, or relegated to marginal status, the cultural front is nonetheless foundational. The wars of this century are wars over meaning. As American forces learned in Iraq and Afghanistan, if you lose on the cultural front, military and economic dominance swiftly erode. The terrible battles for Kyiv and Kharkiv, the destruction of Ukraine’s civilian infrastructure, Europe’s struggle to heat and feed itself this winter, spiralling inflation, the brutal material horrors of the struggle, might make any cultural reading of the conflict seem fantastical or glib. But at its core, and from its origin, this Ukrainian conflict has been a war over language and identity.”
Today, there is more Ukrainian writing translated into English than ever before. I’m proud that our new anthology, Embroidered Worlds, will be adding to that canon. These writers and their stories are wildly diverse: there are ghosts and monsters, there are space ships and ancient gods, there are battles — real and imagined — as well as time travel adventures, post-apocalyptic settings, magic and folk motifs.
Over the next few months, I’m going to share updates about our progress here and on social media. At this time, we have 26 stories in our table of contents. Nineteen of those are from Ukrainian writers, seven are confirmed from the diaspora with a few still under consideration. We have enlisted the services of translators, and soon we’ll announce our Kickstarter pre-order campaign!
Anyone who would like to lend support to the project in any capacity, please email me: [email protected] or the publisher: [email protected]
Thank you. Дуже дякую.
“Many stories matter. Stories have been used to dispossess and to malign. But stories can also be used to empower, and to humanize. Stories can break the dignity of a people. But stories can also repair that broken dignity.”
I just heard the news that Maureen Seaton passed away on August 26th. I’m saddened by the loss but grateful that we will always have her poetry.
When the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, Ukraine declared its independence, and there was so much celebration and hope. My grandparents, Baba and Dido, had feared they would not live to see an independent Ukraine 