A Collection of Sometimes and Oftens
By
Kathryn Kuna
When you attempt to define a genre, you’re left with
a collection of “sometimes” and “often” and “tends to”. A genre, especially one
as broad as science fiction or fantasy, resists categorization, and especially
resists absolute definitions, with any definition becoming a collection of descriptors
that usually apply. If it has robots,
it’s generally science fiction; if it has dragons, it’s typically fantasy. Science
fictions tend towards pessimism, while fantasy tends towards optimism. Fantasy
can be constructed around a quest, like the Hero’s Journey, while science
fiction gets its plot from its foreign setting. Science fiction explains, fantasy
believes.
Science fiction gravitates to darkness, while fantasy
bends towards the light. In science fiction, the endings range from the
comforting “driven mad from hearing the final screams of your dead best friend
on never-ending loop” in “Kyrie” by Poul Anderson, to the equally reassuring
“forced to kill teenage girl due to weight restrictions” in “The Cold
Equations” by Tom Godwin. In fantasy, the endings are much less likely to drive
someone into a deep depression, ranging from “finally processing your grief
through 26 magical monkeys” in “26 Monkeys Also the Abyss” by Kij Johnson to
“having your family reunited” in The King
of Elfland’s Daughter by Lord Dunsany. While fantasy doesn’t guarantee a
happy ending, there is significantly less chance of the world
ending/protagonist tragically dying.
Pessimism is more
useful in science fiction, as it often serve to
illustrate potential dangers and pitfalls in society, with Samuel
Delany speculating in “Some Presumptuous
Approaches to Science Fiction” that “science fiction is not about the future;
it uses the future as a narrative convention to present significant distortions
of the present”, where fantasy, according to J.R.R. Tolkien,
helps to restore imagination and wonder, with a happy ending serving as an
embrace of “that we most yearn for – an acute awareness of the beauty of the
real world”. Fantasy is dedicated to belief, to the rediscovery of the world
and to acceptance that “the world is full of strange things, things that make
no sense”, as explained by Kij
Johnson. Science fiction often
has a purpose – to scare away and correct behaviors that seem dangerous to
humanity, hence the pessimism.
Fantasy, on the other hand, is less concerned with
predictions of doom and gloom, but of giving back childhoods and creating joy. The
morality is black and white, with good and evil existing. In science fiction,
the distinctions between right and wrong are less clear, or designed to create
a point. In “The Cold Equations”, there is no bad guy, or good guy, just the
cold reality of of nature. Circumstances drive the plot; evil villains are not
necessary. Contrary to science fiction, fantasy often requires inciting events
or people. The fantasy world is simply one that the characters inhabit, not a
lesson or a conflict. In Neverwhere,
by Neil Gaiman, not only are there clear bad guys, those bad guys are two
torturers who cackle and only find joy in destroying ancient porcelain and
murdering people. The Hero’s Journey,
a popular story structure, requires an inciting incident, a “call to
adventure”, and elements of it appear in both Neverwhere and The King of
Elfland’s Daughter, but is largely
absent in science fiction novels such as Philip Dick’s Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? and Roger Zelazny’s Lord of Light. Fantasy and science
fiction tend to be structured differently, from science fiction’s “the world is
inherently flawed and these flaws are causing conflicts” to fantasy’s “evil bad
guys are causing problems or random calls to go on quests”.
Of course, all of these characteristics don’t apply
in likely hundreds of speculative fiction novels. Novels exist that are clearly
fantasy or science fiction that meet none of the trends or commonalities.
Oftentimes, the easiest way to tell what genre a story is by its tropes, with science
fiction and its metatext, and fantasy and its criticism of derivativeness and
worship of Tolkien. Each genre has a rich history that they don’t fail to use
and this history and tropes may be the critical value of categorization; the
readers know what tropes to expect and how the story will unfold. In science
fiction, a main driver will never be elves. The value of the divide of science
fiction and fantasy is of expectations, and of managing them. People like the
comfort of a familiar plot and the safety of the confines of a genre, even in
genres like fantasy and science fiction that dedicate themselves to imagining
alien worlds and entirely new species.
Kathryn:
ReplyDeleteYour post has given me the drive (out of pure cussedness) to write space-elves. In fact, I suppose the film _Avatar_ is really all space-elves versus humanity and the industrial complex, isn't it? Ah, sf/f, how fickle you are.
You've used the texts we've read quite masterfully here, showing how stories and theory together bear out a certain pattern within genre, even if that pattern is not sacrosanct. Well done!
Best,
TT