October 2009

Riadan, one of the commentators on my recent post on science fiction’s battle against an entrenched opposition had some interesting things to say. Since his or her comments were rather long and deserved significant rebuttal and discussion, I thought I would approach them via a dedicated post. So, without further adieu, here goes a (mostly) line-by-line counter argument to Riadan: No, Science fiction does not have a near impenetrable no-mans land to cross. No, Science fiction does not have an impenetrable social barrier to destroy. Science fiction has grabbed the hearts and minds of the populace. Who these days are not born with the concept that maybe, just maybe, the future will be awesome. Maybe, just maybe, our race will not lob deathweapons at every soul on earth. I know you are a young white male. Who of your peers are not touched by science fiction in a very personal manner? Do you have friends who are Star Trek geeks? Or Star Wars nerds, perhaps. We are fucking science fiction, and many people realize our scientific and technical world. I think we have the problem here of science fiction style. True, science fiction has grabbed the dominant culture fairly easily in recent years, but this is through the medium of film more-so than the medium of books. Film, unfortunately, is not approached, consumed, or even perceived as the same thing as a book, and so is a separate entity. But, film, especially in film studies, has had a hard time trying to make the case for the value of science fiction film, particularly because what has been most successful in film are not those occasional films with something “valuable” to say (making a personal judgment here on “value”), but those films most recognized as flashy or indicative of what Ellison and others have angrily called “scifi” rather than “science fiction.” So, while Star Wars and Star Trek and Transformers and all those other massive franchises, and even small ones like Firefly, et al, have captured the minds and hearts of the general viewer, they have not wormed their way into the esteemed clutches of the academia at the same pace. There is, I would argue, far more work to be done in film than in literature. That said, working back to literature, I think it is fair to say that this assumption of widespread adoption of science fiction literature is not nearly as true as you might think. We frequently see talk of science fiction literature sales dropping (with the exception of media tie-ins); if that is true, then it is hard to say that science fiction has even managed to maintain its own selective readership, let alone been properly exposed to or adopted by those outside of it. What argument are you rallying against?You quote Margaret Atwood without taking into account her context. She does write literary fiction, even though I sneer at her applying such a label to herself. She has never denied that she has written sci-fi novels. Her commentary to Oryx and Crake proves that (forgive me for not citing correctly). Her commentary has never suggested that she calls herself a “science fiction writer.” Quite the contrary. In fact, she goes to great lengths to get around the fact that she does write science fiction by pulling the “furniture” argument or using terminology that was never meant to be used the way she proposes (speculative fiction began as a term to mean science fiction and has since been adopted as the umbrella term for SF and fantasy; she seems to think it’s something else). The problem with Atwood is that even when she seems to be accommodating, she is simultaneously defending her high-brow position of literary quality and other such mumbo jumbo. Take her 2005 article for the Guardian. Sure, she starts to admit, there, that she writes science fiction, but also goes to great lengths to say she does not. She’s saying “you can call it whatever you want, but I call it this, and that’s that.” The fact that Atwood actually does write science fiction, but refuses to use the label herself implies that the little bit of literary snobbery that keeps SF out of the literature party on Saturday nights is still alive and kicking. You do not provide an adequate counter-argument for your statement. There is no pro to your anti. There is no thoughtpolice to your Winston. Instead you fawn over the achievements (and great achievements they are) of the sci-fi greats of the past (though you missed out a few. The genius of Olaf Stapledon, and the portentous paranoia of Ballard and Burgess did well to establish sci-fi as mainstream and as *ahem* winning) and while fawning you provide no counter. What is the counter? Science fiction certainly has made great strides. There are, as I mentioned, a handful of programs dedicated to the stuff and even a research organization, and colleges have begun to include more science fiction curriculum. But that doesn’t counter the fact that science fiction isn’t there yet. It hasn’t secured its place. It has a very big leg in the door, sure, but it has yet to break through with its torso and head. The anti-SF crowd periodically slams that door against SF’s leg just to make a point. I get that SF has come a long way, as a film genre and a literature genre, but coming a long way is not the same as making it. It’s getting there, but we shouldn’t be too secure as SF fans to think that the war is over. The entrenched opposition is waging a fierce battle. Instead you use an “us-vs-them” mentality, which does nothing to forward the so-called “cause” of science fiction. Science fiction was born (as we know it. Fiction magazines of the thirties etc) as a product of the popular.Science Fiction is a Popular Movement. “We” won with the printing of the first paperback sci-fi novel. We won when the first person

(This is part of a potential new series of posts. I really want your thoughts on this, particularly constructive criticism. If you hate this, say so. I don’t care if you hate it. It’s what’s on my mind, and if it’s leading me in pointless directions, I’d like to know.) When can we say that science fiction has officially crossed the boundary into becoming a legitimate field of study in the eyes of academia (or, at least, the scholars that fill up the positions that, collectively, are known as the literary academia)? Is it possible for science fiction enthusiasts, critics, fans, readers, lovers, obsessives, or psychotics to raise up their hands and say, “Victory?” Science fiction has earned its place in history and in the classroom; we, the science fiction enthusiasts and lovers, know this as well as we know that the sun must rise every day (perhaps only a handful of you would argue otherwise). Science fiction deserves to be taught just as Mark Twain deserves to be taught. These are facts, incontrovertible. And science fiction has, in a way, reigned victorious over the opposition, and has reigned for as long as it has existed as a genre (even hidden and un-remarked-upon by its makers, for Mary Shelley and the handful of others before her could not have known that their speculative visions would have sparked an entire literary movement that stormed onto the scene in the early half of the 19th century and never let up). 1984, we would argue, is science fiction; Margaret Atwood, Mary Shelley, Cyrano de Bergerac, and all those names forgotten by, or never exposed to, public school students have written science fiction, no matter how hard some of that lot would argue otherwise. But, despite all this, despite 1984, Fahrenheit 451, Brave New World, Utopia, and other “literary” tales, science fiction has not won. Despite the extensive study of the genre in universities across the world, despite the Science Fiction Studies degree program at the University of Liverpool, the Science Fiction Research Association, the Modern Language Association’s inclusion of a science fiction and fantasy discussion board, or the various high-profile literary critics like Phillip Wegner, Frederick Jameson, Samuel R. Delany, Darko Suvin, Istvan Csicsery-Ronay, Jr., science fiction has not won. The opposition is entrenched, buried like a human being’s personality under a mountain of psychosis. We are the foot soldiers marching across flat terrain to an “enemy” set up in fortified positions, in trenches and bunkers and underground tunnels, who have been preparing for this battle without knowing they were doing so. And they have superior numbers. You see, for all that we have managed to achieve, science fiction has yet to claim “victory.” It can’t, because whenever we say “well, science fiction has been in school curriculum for decades,” the entrenched opposition throws an un-combatable argument back at us: “1984 is not a science fiction novel. It’s literature. It just uses the furniture of science fiction, but it’s not SF. It’s real literature!” (Image found here) Margaret Atwood, bless her soul, has been one of the most vocal about this position, along with Harlan Ellison. They do not write science fiction; they just use the furniture. Interesting how you don’t see it work the other way: imagine a science fiction author being called “literary” and telling everyone, “I do not write literary fiction. I just use the furniture.” Does the argument make sense? Of course not. But if the entrenched opposition made any sense, this “war” would have ended long ago. But these arguments are what maintain the divide. The indefatigable persistence of this position lends itself well to the ears of those who turn their noses at the SF/F community. Science fiction, they say, is not literature. It’s mindless fluff. It’s escapist drivel. It’s nonsense masked by weak prose and hebetudinous style. Therefore, 1984 cannot be science fiction. It’s too good for that label. Margaret Atwood is a literary writer; she does not stoop to that all time low embodied by the science fiction genre. No. We are too good for that. You see, science fiction must combat this entrenched mentality; it must push against the fold that cannot be unfolded, and must learn the tricks that are not tricks. We cannot use their language; we cannot say “it is science fiction, even if you say it isn’t,” because our realities are different. We do not presume to hold science fiction up as perfect. Just as the literary establishment segregates itself from the popular literature (that, they claim, devalues all that is wonderful about the written language), science fiction enthusiasts and critics segregate. We have to, because we are not naïve to think that all science fiction is good or worth subjecting to critical inquiry. Science fiction is a mixed bag, but we seem to have a decent idea on what constitutes good and bad, what is worth more than the label of “escapist fluff.” Some of that fits into the rigid universe of the entrenched opposition; some of that does not. It is that which fits that we must reconcile and drag out of the abyss the opposition has created for it. 1984 is science fiction. It does not “use the furniture.” It created the furniture (dystopian furniture, to say the least) and became a model. The models are our friends, our allies in the fight. But how do we wrestle away that which fits? How do we un-entrench the opposition long enough for them to see that science fiction is not a label of debasement, but a mark of honor? To be called a “science fiction writer” is not to be called “garbage,” but to be seen as worthy of the adoration of a niche, of rabid fans who devour anything under the science fiction label with at least half as much fervor as the fans of Twilight devour Edward. This is the question to be asked and answered. I have asked the question. The answer will come