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Ken Liu’s Book Notes music playlist for his novel All That We See or Seem

“I generally don’t write to a soundtrack. I rely on rhythm in my prose, and playing music interferes with that internal metronome.”

In the Book Notes series, authors create and discuss a music playlist that relates in some way to their recently published book.

Previous contributors include Jesmyn Ward, Lauren Groff, Bret Easton Ellis, Celeste Ng, T.C. Boyle, Dana Spiotta, Amy Bloom, Aimee Bender, Roxane Gay, and many others.

Ken Liu’s novel All That We See or Seem is a thought-provoking science fiction thriller.

Reactor Magazine wrote of the book:

“[A]n ambitious and impressive dystopia … All That We See or Seem is a heart-pounding sci-fi thriller that questions the nature of both science and artistry … Ken Liu has me wanting to delete my social media and quit the internet forever, which just goes to show how effectively he highlights the dangers of a possible AI-driven future.”

In his own words, here is Ken Liu’s Book Notes music playlist for his novel All That We See or Seem:

I generally don’t write to a soundtrack. I rely on rhythm in my prose, and playing music interferes with that internal metronome.

(The one exception to this was when I was writing an epic fantasy involving two larger-than-life characters going at each other in hand-to-hand combat. I wrote the fight scenes while playing the Pacific Rim soundtrack. Somehow, that one time, the rhythm of the music helped with the rhythm of the prose.)

What about Julia Z, the main character of this novel? She’s not the sort to listen to music while hacking, either. She talks to herself (or her AI) while working, and she likes it quiet so she can concentrate. The one exception to that might be when she tries to be an oneirofex (from the Greek “dream” + Latin “maker”), someone who guides others in AI-mediated collective dreaming. Music can help her shape the audience’s theta and beta brain waves, which are associated with dreaming.

For this playlist, I selected songs that respond to the themes of Julia’s journey in some way. These are not necessarily songs that Julia Z herself would listen to, but I think she would enjoy the resonances between the music and her story.

“American Oxygen” by Rihanna

A core theme of the novel is American identity: What does it mean to be American? Who gets to claim to be American? Who gets to decide that? What story counts as an American story?

There are many, many possible choices for a song on this theme—it’s a favorite subject for American artists! I picked “American Oxygen” because I think it’s one that Julia would respond to. It celebrates as well as castigates the American Dream (“Oh, say can you see” … “I say, can’t see”). It embraces all the contradictions of our complicity in empire while yearning to be free. I also love the hopeful refrain that changes in meaning with every repetition: “This is the new America / We are the new America.”

Most of all, I love that by commanding us to “breathe out, breathe in,” it echoes the Dao De Jing in evoking the endless movement of a bellows, the universal lung that gives life to our struggles for meaning.

“Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac

Stevie Nicks’s delivery here, by turns playful and emotional, comes very close to how I imagine an oneirofex talks to her audience.

To me, the song is about illusion, a collective dance of deception, and the porous boundaries between dream country and our world.

All artists speak to the dreams of their audience, for they must recreate what they remember from their journeys into the collective unconscious. When we engage with art, what we respond to is “the stillness of rememberin’.”

“Little Boxes” by Malvina Reynolds

An old song about the absurdity of conforming to a mad world. Still applicable today.

We live in little boxes and put other people in little boxes. We carry our lives around in little boxes and talk to each other through little boxes. We carve out little boxes with words and brand names and imaginary lines and then guard these boxes as though they are us.

All the boxes “are made out of ticky-tacky.” Julia hates them all. She’ll fight like hell against every single one.

“Digital Witness” by St. Vincent

No playlist for this novel would be complete without a song about the world of surveillance capitalism.

The advertising-driven economy promises us all gain and no pain if we allow ourselves to be watched while we are watching. “People turn the TV on, it looks just like a window.”

And since everything is expected to be free, the only currency we can compete over is attention. Anything for the views. “If I can’t show it, you can’t see me / Watch me jump right off the London Bridge.”

In the end, we’re left with the plea: “Won’t somebody sell me back to me?”

In Julia Z’s world, the surveillance economy is carried to its logical end. When most of the internet consists of bots watching bots, the drive to profit from human attention is even more cutthroat and dehumanizing. I’m not worried about bots taking over for humans – I’m worried that we’ll all be treated like bots.

“No Surprises” by Radiohead

It’s the music video here that makes the association for me. Watching Thom Yorke’s helmet slowly fill with water always gives me a great deal of anxiety. Such a potent image for the way modernity slowly drowns us, one quiet indignity after another, until air is just a distant memory.

The song opens with “A heart that’s full up like a landfill / A job that slowly kills you.” In Julia’s world, it’s not the physical detritus of our lives that overwhelms and chokes off life, but data, the digital trails we leave behind in a surveillance society. Data is pollution.

Like all of us, Julia lives a life of ambivalence and compromises in a world drowning in data. She finds a better outlet than the speaker in this song, though.

“Nobody” by Mitski

“My God, I’m so lonely, so I open the window / To hear sounds of people.” Never have we been so connected, and also so isolated.

We’re surrounded by social performance. Maybe there’s no distinction between social performance and social reality. It makes us think that if we can just join in the fun and be normal, everything will be all right. (“I’m just asking for a kiss / Give me one good movie kiss and I’ll be alright.”) But all we end up with is an endless refrain of “nobody” — we have no body; we are nobody; we can have nobody; we’ll go on with no body.

There are certainly moments when Julia would like to curl up and just sing that refrain to herself.

Isolation can be crippling, but if there’s one trait that defines Julia, it’s that she won’t give up. No matter how deep the despair, she’ll find hope.

“Canvas” by Imogen Heap

A core conflict in the novel is an artist’s struggle to maintain authenticity in the face of “success.” Laozi tells us that you should be as terrified of praise as you are of censure, for both deprive you of freedom by subjecting you to fear. With censure, you fear getting more of it. With praise, you fear losing it.

To me, that ambivalence is at the heart of this song. Does the canvas need to be understood by the viewer? Is the effort to maintain understanding worth it? “No, I just can’t find the strength / To haul you up and keep you taut.”

There is no resolution. “The more you look, the less you see.”

“Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men

Julia’s story begins with her attempt to help reunite a couple: Elli, the dream artist, and Piers, her husband. Their relationship is filled with longing, grief, disappearance, miscommunication, rage, secrets, and ultimately, faith.

Just like this song.

The dialogue-driven lyrics tell a story about a relationship that looks very different to the two participants. “Some days, I don’t know if I am wrong or right / Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear.” Ghostly presences are left in the house they once shared, and they can no longer hear each other. But in the end, they can still hang on to this: “‘Cause though the truth may vary / This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore.”

“Blackout” by Anna Calvi

If Julia had an anthem, it would probably be this one. There is a darkness in all of us. We could run from it and never look it in the eye, or we could stand still and face it, realizing that the shadow is part of us and powers our transformation.

“Strike a flame ‘cause the very last light is gone.” Julia will identify with that. She does it again and again.


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Ken Liu is an award-winning American author of speculative fiction. His collection, The Paper Menagerie and Other Stories, has been published in more than a dozen languages. Liu’s other works include The Grace of Kings, The Wall of Storms, The Veiled Throne, a second collection The Hidden Girl and Other Stories, and the forthcoming Julia Z series. He has been involved in multiple media adaptations of his work, including the short story “Good Hunting,” adapted as an episode in Netflix’s animated series Love, Death + Robots; and AMC’s Pantheon, adapted from an interconnected series of short stories. “The Hidden Girl,” “The Message,” and “The Oracle” have also been optioned for development. Liu previously worked as a software engineer, corporate lawyer, and litigation consultant. He frequently speaks at conferences and universities on topics including futurism, machine-augmented creativity, the history of technology, and the value of storytelling. Liu lives with his family near Boston, Massachusetts.


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