How did “An Exegesis of the Socioreligious Ramifications of the Collection of Peribi” originate? What inspirations did you draw on?

My partner wanted me to write a story about the moral panic incited by Pokémon (more on that in a minute). I wanted to write a story that drew on my obsessive thoughts about material waste. He and I often discuss the vast amounts of stuff in the world and have wondered more than once about its fate—about for instance, the millions of Funko Pop toys that must be out there, whose destiny will be to flood the landfills. Or they will form an entire stratum upon the surface of the earth, to be studied by future visitors. It soon became clear that these were related concerns—different ways of thinking about our attachments. I wanted to think through how we humans cultivate devotions to objects peculiar and perverse, driven by love and fear and hatred and curiosity, as well as the communities bound by those feelings: online fandom, collectors, church congregations, and so on. Very often, those things that inspire cultlike enthusiasm—as the Peribi do—inspire equally fervent fear and suspicion as well. My story offers several distinct portraits, an anatomy, of devotion.

Where are you in this story?

The real heart of this story is the third section, which concerns Leonard Snow and his experiences at church. In fact, this section began life as nonfiction, a bit of memoir I wrote several years ago that fit better, after much editing, within the framework of this story. Yet it still largely reflects my experiences: the apocalyptic “Y2J” sign, the vision of the lake of fire, and of course the lesson. Sunday school teachers felt at liberty to push dubious weekly lessons on us children, which often focused on the countless evils of the secular world—such as the diabolical pocket monsters. Like Leonard, I learned to watch for hidden signs of the devil’s hand, as he insidiously reached through the screen of the television or the Game Boy, to wrap his thick fingers around our tender hearts. I was struck by fear of God and devil. The ill-fated Leonard continued to dwell, as I have, on these lessons, realizing how terrible, pointless, but darkly funny they are. Writing this story allowed me to pick apart those memories, and my partner encouraged me to think more deeply about the satanic conspiracy angle. I liked fitting this section within the larger context of the cultural history of the Peribi.

Is there anything you want to make sure readers noticed?

I hope readers see themselves reflected in the story, even (or especially) if it makes them uneasy. I hope at least one of the sections strikes a chord with how readers think about their own attachments and communities.

Also, I am pleased with the descriptions of the individual types of Peribi. My goal was to make them seem realistic as toys that people might actually want to collect—yet ever so slightly off. I would like to hunt down the maitake-shaped one for myself.

What are you reading lately? What writers inspire you?

I’ve recently finished two enormous novels, each of which is the kind of bracing, mind-expanding fiction I love most. Olga Tokarczuk’s The Books of Jacob, as pretty nearly every review has affirmed, is her masterpiece, a stunning and beautiful novel about community, faith, family, history, mystery, mysticism, politics, writing, the eighteenth century, Poland, and a little bit of everything else, too. A friend of mine got me started on Neal Stephenson; I read Anathem, which details a parallel world full of monastic orders devoted not to religion but to science and philosophy. Its world is perfectly conceptualized; I was as fascinated by minor details about its fictional philosophers as I was by the plot itself. These two novels may seem quite different but are, in some ways, birds of a feather.

I also love short fiction. Two of my favorite (relatively) recent collections are Brian Evenson’s The Glassy, Burning Floor of Hell and Aoko Matsuda’s Where the Wild Ladies Are. The brilliant, singular Caitlín R. Kiernan constantly inspires my writing and thinking; I am looking forward to reading their latest collection, Vile Affections.

Finally, music is a profound source of inspiration for me. I’ve been listening to a lot of Big Thief and Grouper lately: dreamy, folky, and a little weird. That’s where my head is right now.

What are you working on lately? Where else can fans look for your work?

My story “Camera’s Eye” appears in the latest issue of Weird Horror (#4). It’s another one I’m quite proud of; it explores a community devoted to a strange object of its own (a video purportedly offering a glimpse of hell). Both stories form part of a larger, interconnected cycle of stories titled Curiosities. The strange history of the Morley family and the people closely associated with them sort of forms the core of it. At the moment, I’m working on polishing several of those stories and on getting more of them published. Anyone interested in reading my published fiction can visit my website, danielfroid.com/fiction.