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oEPISTLES FROM A GOBLIN PRINCESSo
Cynicism, Realism, Sensationalism — and Where DID I Misplace that Sense of Wonder? 2
Posted 8th September 2011 at 09:33 PM by Teresa Edgerton
Part II
Now I don’t believe that any one work of fiction, all by itself, ever did or ever would drastically alter the way that readers think. What I do believe is that a book can reinforce and encourage ideas that we already have or already feel inclined to adopt. When somebody reads a book, they are most likely to take away something very similar to what they brought with them.
But do we read fantasy to confirm what we think we already know? Or is the best fantasy transformative, showing us more than one way of seeing the world, and in that way broadening our perspectives? Should fantasy not only show us the human experience, in all its variety, but also what could be, what might be?
No book, no series, no writer, will radically change the way we see our world, but many books by many writers, all saying essentially the same thing, may in time shape our thinking, either by appealing to what is strong and whole in us, or to what is weak and broken. I believe that we can already see this at work, as more and more people equate "reality" solely with what is ugly, hopeless, and cruel.
I am reminded of something else Tolkien said, which was that he found it very strange that anyone regarded factories as more “real” than horses. Yet even today, the creature is not quite mythical — and I have known many people of undeniable veracity who attest to the existence of horses. Could somebody please explain to me how things that do exist, that are done, that have been experienced, could possibly be less real than others? We don’t read about rape, floggings, and torture because they are realistic. (I mean, seriously, do we pick up a fantasy novel the size of a brick, in order to better acquaint ourselves with reality?) We read about these things because they are thrilling, because we may be briefly shocked or saddened, but it’s all at a safe remove and our comfort, or discomfort, with the real world remains unimpaired. Let us at least be honest about that. If we want reality, there are newspapers and works of nonfiction readily available We can read the biographies of people who have lived through horrific experiences, books that describe those experiences honestly and accurately in minute detail. But an honest and accurate account rarely produces the same thrill ... and can be decidedly uncomfortable.
Yes, human history is a long record of war and hardship — but how could we have survived so long as a species if that were all there ever was, if there were no people helping each other, standing by their principles, or making such sacrifices that they left behind something of worth that endured? How could we have survived without poets, novelists, painters, and musicians capable of seeing and communicating their own poignant and heart-lifting perceptions of beauty? Wouldn’t any genuinely realistic depiction of the human experience tell of these things, too?
And what about that sense of wonder we used to hear so much about? In reading the latest fantasy novel have you seen the world painted in fresher colors? When was the last time you picked up a book and walked right into a “luminous setting?” Because I tell you quite frankly that such experiences are becoming less and less frequent for me. Have we replaced our taste for the fabulous, the extraordinary, with one for mere sensationalism, which more often than not leaves us afterward with a sense that the world is an even duller place than it was before? Are we seeding our imaginary gardens solely with weeds,and already forgetting the taste of strawberries, the brilliance of sunflowers, the fragrance of orange blossom?
If writers like Tolkien and LeGuin could tell stories of pain and loss, and still write passages that make our hearts soar, then why can’t we? Are our minds so closed, our hearts squeezed down so small, that we are no longer capable of receiving fresh impressions, or imagining wider perspectives?
Above all, are we forgetting how to grow into true adults, at the same time we are losing our childhood curiosity and capacity for wonder? Are we stuck in a perpetual sullen adolescence, meeting all the ills of the world with, “It’s not fair.” “It’s too hard.” “It’s not my fault.” I sincerely hope not.
As always, I welcome your thoughts.
Total Comments 11
Comments
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I wondered how relevant the division between 'adult' and 'young adult' books was here -- do you think that sometimes in order to set itself apart from fantasy-for-children, to define its place in the market, the authors of "adult" fantasy have to be darker, nastier more 'realistic' (in all the wrong ways)? Perhaps stories of hope and growth and wonder are perceived as being something we grow out of, or tales we tell to children because they can't deal with The Truth? [I have a feeling I've just chewed up what you said and repeated bits of it back to you -- sorry -- must go to bed!]
I read a lot of YA books, although I am long past the Y bit because I read to make myself happy, not to get depressed (yes, I really am like that, there are no depths). I think I've said before that I thought The Blade Itself etc. were brilliant books, but they were too grim for me -- I won't be seeking out his next ones because I disliked the way they made me feel. Same for The Hunger Games, actually, although I just tried to make an argument for YA fiction being jolly happy stuff -- really gripping -- gave me terrible nightmares.
It's not fantasy (well, not in the conventional sense) but I've always loved Middlemarch because Dorothea is someone who tries so hard to be good. She makes mistakes and thinks silly things, but all of them are forgiveable. I'm sorry I can't think of any examples of fantasy that I've read recently that contradict your argument, although perhaps Pegasus is a book about wonder and discovery?Posted 8th September 2011 at 10:46 PM by Hex
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I have the same perception of modern fantasy, but I wonder if it's any more than a blip. I've read that Joe Abercrombie wrote his books as a conscious rebuttal of traditional fantasy with its quest-heroes, and I don't think he started that long ago, in which case the quest-hero books must still have been popular quite recently (unless he himself was mistaken, and rebelling against something that no longer had any force). And the dark, grim fantasy we now see a lot of -- and which I really don't like myself -- might just be a pendulum-swing that's gone a bit too far, and will correct itself (and possibly over-correct itself) before too long.
That said, I think there is less optimism around today, and very definitely an absence of visionaries, or people who have any idea how to build the future, and I think optimistic SFF both feeds and feeds off such ideas. Perhaps the combination of postmodernism, with its valueless value system, and the vague sense of impending global disaster has built in people a kind of survival mentality, a need to desensitise themselves, through the entertainment they consume, to the brutality they fear might be heading their way in reality.
Whatever the truth or otherwise of that, I agree that writers can drive evolution as well as reflect it, and if we don't like the direction of 'progress', it's up to us to try to change it.Posted 8th September 2011 at 11:12 PM by HareBrain 
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Perhaps the shift to grim fantasy was inevitable once writers began to focus away from Kings, wizards etc (even Frodo was a landowner) and out toward the larger mass of any fantasy world's society. About 90% of all human experience throughout time has been utterly wretched by our standards, with disease and brutality commonplace.
I'm a big Abercrombie fan and I have to say that the grim bits make the rare touching bits truly shine, like a pearl in mud. The same goes for Miellville's Bas Lag tales. Glokta's crawl toward humanity I find far more inspiring than Aragorn's stride toward kingship.Posted 9th September 2011 at 03:57 AM by J-WO -
I read a great deal of YA fantasy, too. While some of it is hopeful, a large portion of it gets darker and darker. But the saving grace with all those vampire and werewolf books is that, so far as I know, nobody pretends that they are realistic.Quote:Originally Posted by HexI wondered how relevant the division between 'adult' and 'young adult' books was here -- do you think that sometimes in order to set itself apart from fantasy-for-children, to define its place in the market, the authors of "adult" fantasy have to be darker, nastier more 'realistic' (in all the wrong ways)?
Exactly. If we want to break the cycle, it's up to us. Not just writers, but everyone. Becoming an adult used to mean shouldering responsibility, trying to become a better person (according to one's own value system), trying to make the world a better place for the next generation. Now it seems to mean an acceptance of all the dirt and cruelty and misery in the world. Of course that's easy for us, if it isn't our dirt, cruelty, or misery.Quote:Originally Posted by HareBrainThat said, I think there is less optimism around today, and very definitely an absence of visionaries, or people who have any idea how to build the future, and I think optimistic SFF both feeds and feeds off such ideas. Perhaps the combination of postmodernism, with its valueless value system, and the vague sense of impending global disaster has built in people a kind of survival mentality, a need to desensitise themselves, through the entertainment they consume, to the brutality they fear might be heading their way in reality.
Whatever the truth or otherwise of that, I agree that writers can drive evolution as well as reflect it, and if we don't like the direction of 'progress', it's up to us to try to change it.
So why are we obsessed with writing about those times? Tolkien has been called reactionary, monarchist, patriarchal, etc. (Oddly enough, his books found their greatest popularity in the late '60s and early '70s, with a generation that was rebelling against authority.) Is writing about miserable peasants groveling in the mud somehow more progressive than writing about prosperous middle-class Hobbits?* Why do we continue to cover the same territory, if it's all about disease, wretchedness, and brutality. (My own opinion about Tolkien is that he didn't go into the ugly details of the wars in Middle Earth because he was writing for a generation that damn well knew what war was like.)Quote:About 90% of all human experience throughout time has been utterly wretched by our standards, with disease and brutality commonplace.
Between the Middle Ages and our own time is a long period of exploration and discovery. Of course there were horrible things done then, too, but there was also excitement and new ideas taking the place of the old Medieval hierarchies (from plants and animals right up to God and the angels), and a boundless curiosity. Why not write about that?
Or, since we are, after all, writing about worlds of our own invention, why not invent something a little bit better, so that it is easier to believe that things can someday be better still? Why must characters crawl toward humanity? Why can't they begin there?
Think of some of the characters that Dickens wrote about, straining every faculty they possess to maintain their humanity in the face of poverty, disease, heartbreak, and crushing losses. Are they not inspiring, too?
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*Just noting here that some of the writers of "gritty" fantasy are writing about kings and queens, aristocrats, warlords and dynasties, rather than recording the tedious lives of peasants planting the fields and nursing sick cows and burying their children who never outlived their infancy.Posted 9th September 2011 at 05:07 AM by Teresa Edgerton -
That's very well put, Teresa, and neatly sums up why I won't be buying, or even reading any more GRRM, or Joe Abercrombie.
Yes, that's it - and it lacks what I can only describe as the sense of wonder that I find in my personal favourites. Dark and gritty is all very well, but for me, fantasy is an escape - and that's not what these authors are providing me with. As you say, I might as well read a textbook on Life in the 12th-13th century - Nasty, Brutish and Short....Quote:(it's) only another variation on the familiar faux-medieval setting, and the much-vaunted difference seems only to consist of a darker worldview and more sensational plot linesPosted 9th September 2011 at 06:20 AM by pyan -
While I am by no means averse to dark and grim, my own view is that much that has come out in late years in the fantasy field has been gratuitously, rather than necessarily (that is, in terms of the story) so. It feels contrived, rather than something which would naturally emerge from the setting.
I also think that even the grim can and, in the best of hands, does serve much of the purpose you and the good professor mention; certainly, in the end, this is the thrust of, say, much of Michael Moorcock's fantasy work, which really is devoted to an optimistic view of humanity (though often taking a rather rough road to get there). What I see now, though, just tends to be more nihilistic in tone, rather than realistic or (more properly) dealing in verisimilitude or genuine human emotional reactions. As several prominent atheistic thinkers have pointed out in recent years, we would most likely not have survived without those "altruistic" aspects of our character; they form a very real, evolutionarily sound part of our heritage; so to deny them in the name of "realism" seems rather specious, to say the least.
By the way, you might be interested in an old essay bu Matthew H. Onderdonk on Lovecraft in this respect, titled "Charon -- in Reverse; or H. P. Lovecraft vs. the 'Realists' of Fantasy", which can be found in Peter H. Cannon's Lovecraft Remembered, pp. 448-54.Posted 9th September 2011 at 06:39 AM by j. d. worthington - Yes, this is one of the aspects that bothers me the most, JD. A plot point so strained that it would strike any reader as ludicrously improbable if it led to a happy conclusion, is quickly accepted if the outcome is tragic. Believable human responses and reactions are instantly swept away in service to the great literary gods Conflict and Drama; characters go through the most remarkable contortions in order to fit the convolutions of the developing plot. Some of these books (not all of them) have about as much psychological verisimilitude as soap opera.Quote:Originally Posted by j. d. worthingtonIt feels contrived, rather than something which would naturally emerge from the setting ... nihilistic in tone, rather than realistic or (more properly) dealing in verisimilitude or genuine human emotional reactions.
It wouldn't matter so much if people knew they were reading soap opera.Posted 9th September 2011 at 07:20 AM by Teresa Edgerton - I think we're also more aware of the brutality and misery that exists in the world (although, as you say, not ours) -- and perhaps it helps to have a sense of inevitability about it to permit our current political and economic choices. 'Consume wildly for the end is nigh!'Quote:Originally Posted by HareBrain
Perhaps the combination of postmodernism, with its valueless value system, and the vague sense of impending global disaster has built in people a kind of survival mentality, a need to desensitise themselves, through the entertainment they consume, to the brutality they fear might be heading their way in reality.
I rather like the valueless value of postmodernism, but it's also interesting that despite the lack of an external God, we are unable to give up on morality. As j.d. worthington says, researchers seem interested in demonstrating that co-operation is a helpful survival trait (not very surprisingly) and there was recently some research (though I haven't read the paper so you may wish to take this with a pinch of salt) suggesting that a moral sense is innate -- or at least it manifests itself in babies. I loved Matt Ridley's The Origins of Virtue which attacks the argument that nature is all vicious in-fighting, and shows examples of co-operation and self-sacrifice among surprisingly basic animals.Quote:Originally Posted by j. d. worthington we would most likely not have survived without those "altruistic" aspects of our character; they form a very real, evolutionarily sound part of our heritage...
Something that also bothers me is that by accepting a completely negative view of the past -- 'weren't they ignorant and toothless and poor! How miserable' we miss that people seem to have lived largely contented lives even in circumstances we'd find utterly unbearable. Perhaps it stems from a political bias among historians who chose to look at wider societies rather than kings and leaders -- many of them were leftwing and writing during more revolutionary times -- but I wonder too if it's part of our own arrogant belief that ours is the only way to live.
I'm not going to sing the virtues of a golden agrarian past with peasants doffing their caps to the squire and each man with his own pig, but there were compensations, I suspect, to a world in which it was clear what was demanded of you, and security in living with the same people in a village that hadn't significantly altered for generations. There were good kings and good land-owners as well as bad ones. And the most important factor, I think, would be not knowing the alternatives. So I do not miss being able to fly through space on wings of gossamer because it hasn't occured to me as something to do (until now).
I love Dickens' characters. Especially Esther in Bleak House. Does the modern way of writing character growth and becoming-human connect back into The Rules? From my hazy knowledge of them I seem to remember that a character arc often contains growth and development, and characters who don't change are often critiqued (probably by people applying the rules poorly) as static.
Sorry - this turned into a monologue rather than a comment.Posted 9th September 2011 at 07:28 AM by Hex
Updated 9th September 2011 at 07:53 AM by Hex (misplaced apostrophe) - I think that writers in this new 'grimwave' of fantasy (hey, I coined a new genre term: do I win a prize or something?) are, if not outright reading Dawkins, Hitchens et al, at least aware of intrinsic human altruism as they write.Quote:Originally Posted by j. d. worthington As several prominent atheistic thinkers have pointed out in recent years, we would most likely not have survived without those "altruistic" aspects of our character; they form a very real, evolutionarily sound part of our heritage; so to deny them in the name of "realism" seems rather specious, to say the least.
There's an important distinction I feel needs highlighting- the Grimwave are essentially optimistic about individuals (aside from the occasional plot-engine sociopath, but even Tolkien and Jordan have them) but cynical of institutions. Especially unaccountable ones, which are all over the shop in fantasy. They have a tendency to warp people and even squeeze the altruism out of them altogether. On the rare occasion an individual's humanity transcends these institutions its a helluvan achievement, one both stark and beautiful.
I'd argue that's the flag the best of these writers are swinging. Then again, I come from a reading background of SF so its entirely possible I like a splash of nihilism on my cornflakes.
(Looking at the comment thread,I sense I may be devil's advocate here. That's OK, though; I think the horns are rather fetching!
)Posted 9th September 2011 at 09:34 AM by J-WO - I admit I haven’t read any Joe Abercrombie – I’ve had a look, but other people’s experiences, and reviews I’ve read (not always the negative ones) suggest it wouldn’t be a good use of my energy.
But I have read GRR Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire, which I suspect is equivalent. And though I read most of it avidly, and will buy the next volume the day it comes out, I have to say it leaves me with nothing. It is a psychic dead-end. It contributes nothing to my own growth whatsoever. Should that be a function of something written as entertainment? For me, yes, and I don’t mean didactic attempts to improve me, but a positive expansion of my mind, or at least an engaged dialogue with it. ASOIF does none of this. It provides interest and excitement, but takes me nowhere new. Bits of it are memorable, but it does not linger; it doesn’t take on a life of its own in my psyche, as the best fantasy does – or did. It doesn’t nourish. It’s like eating an interesting meal that turns out to be illusory, or which one then vomits up. Not a problem occasionally, but too much of it and you sicken. (I might have borrowed that analogy. If it was from someone who reads this, sorry!)
The combination of wonder + beauty + danger, for me, is what fantasy can do, and should do, better than any other genre, and what makes it linger in my head. (The danger doesn’t have to be so much in the thing itself as in the overall story, but it’s probably even more effective if it is.) They are what make my heart soar, and I think they provide a pathway to a more positive view of life and our own world and its possibilities.
But I suspect that these elements arise from the author’s heart rather than the head; they need space around them to show their power, and maybe it’s too difficult to include these elements within the fast-paced plot that readers seem to want (I might be wrong there). Certainly my own previous novels had more of those wonder+beauty+danger scenes (they were what originally inspired those books) but I struggled to make them fit within a realistic world, even a fantasy one, and the books became structurally flawed as a result. I wonder if it’s partly the perceived need for a particular level of realism that makes it difficult to include the inspiring. The realistic world and the intricate plot are creations more of the conscious than the unconscious, and perhaps this means that modern fantasy is less like psychoanalysis than it was when Ursula leGuin wrote that line above.Posted 9th September 2011 at 10:24 AM by HareBrain
Updated 9th September 2011 at 10:36 AM by HareBrain - Esther is a static character, and I have to say that a whole book full of Esthers would be boring. But, as you know, Dickens doesn't leave her to carry the plot. In fact, she is more an observer than anything else, which is why she narrates part of the story. Meanwhile, there are characters like Richard who do have character arcs, like Esther and John Jarndyce who would not be much improved if they did change — although Esther would be better for a sense of self-worth — and characters like Miss Flite and Mr. Gridley whose tragedy it is that they can't change to adapt to their circumstances. (Esther, by the way makes an interesting contrast with Miss Wade in Little Dorrit: the one eternally grateful, the other grateful for nothing, turning every kindness into a slight.) There is also, as you probably remember, Harold Skimpole, who pretends to a childlike innocence he doesn't have, in order to impose on others. He refuses to accept the adult role he should have accepted decades before, because adulthood would mean taking on responsibility. Then there is Mrs. Jellyby, who is so involved in raising money and making plans to "improve" the lives of an African tribe, who would probably rather she left them alone (which rather goes to your point about believing that one's own way is the only way to live, and that no one can be happy any other way), while ignoring her own children who are desperately in need of her attention. But of course it's more glamorous writing letters and playing at being a philanthropist than wiping up the baby's vomit.Quote:Originally Posted by HexI love Dickens' characters. Especially Esther in Bleak House. Does the modern way of writing character growth and becoming-human connect back into The Rules? From my hazy knowledge of them I seem to remember that a character arc often contains growth and development, and characters who don't change are often critiqued (probably by people applying the rules poorly) as static.
While I'm on the subject of Dickens, Jim, I'll point out that he wrote about institutions like the Court of Chancery (real) and the Circumlocution Office (imaginary) grinding away at humanity, but at the same time he illuminated so many other aspects of the human experience. What could be more horrifying than the wretched school at Dotheboys Hall in Nicholas Nickleby, where the Squeers family act out their vicious tendencies on the helpless children? What could be more chilling than the implacable malice of Ralph Nickleby? But in the same book there are many characters who display generosity not merely in the material sense (though some do that, too) but generosity of mind and heart. This is the kind of thing I find missing in so many books written today.Quote:Originally Posted by J-WOcynical of institutions
(And you do get a prize for coining a new term. Something in keeping with the new devilish persona. Expect your pitchfork in the mail.)
I am going to be interviewing Stephen Palmer in October, and as preparation, I've been reading some of his books. His settings are very grim — very, very grim — but many of his characters display indomitable spirit, and he really delivers a sense of wonder, because of a remarkably fertile imagination. No one could accuse him of going over the same old territory that others have covered before.
Well said. That is exactly what I am looking for and not finding enough of these days.Quote:Originally Posted by HareBrainThe combination of wonder + beauty + danger, for me, is what fantasy can do, and should do, better than any other genre, and what makes it linger in my head. (The danger doesn’t have to be so much in the thing itself as in the overall story, but it’s probably even more effective if it is.) They are what make my heart soar, and I think they provide a pathway to a more positive view of life and our own world and its possibilities.Posted 9th September 2011 at 10:40 AM by Teresa Edgerton
