Preliminary Cyberpunk Curriculum, and Other Considerations
I mentioned somewhere (maybe Twitter, though, to be honest, my online correspondence has largely become a blur in the last few months) that I am considering developing an independent study graduate course dealing with cyberpunk and capitalism. This interest follows my attempts to conceptualize cyberpunk as a genre and the pressing curiosity as to the capitalistic claims of the genre. With that in mind, I’ve started putting together a preliminary “reading list.” I am, of course, quite open to suggestions or modifications to this list. Your thoughts are most welcome here. So, here goes (new additions added at 7:12 PM on Sept. 28th, 10:17 AM on Oct. 1st, and 12:34 PM on Oct. 8th — more additions are on the way, I just haven’t been able to update yet). Novels:Neuromancer by William GibsonVurt by Jeff NoonDead Girls, etc. by Richard Calder (love him)Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. DickCrash by J. G. BallardThe Integrated Man by Michael BerlynThe Shockwave Rider by John BrunnerWhen Gravity Fails by George Alec EffingerMemoirs Found in a Bathtub by Stanislaw LemSpin State/Spin Control by Chris MoriartySpacetime Donuts by Rudy RuckerSnow Crash by Neil Stephenson Mirrorshades edited by Bruce Sterling Nova by Samuel R. Delany Moxyland by Lauren Beukes Babylon Babies by Maurice G. Dantec Theory, etc.:Postmodernism by Fredric Jameson The Communist Manifesto by Karl MarxMarx and Lenin (or works on them, at least)(This section is really where I need suggestions, particularly for books that are not Marxist critiques of capitalism) So, any thoughts?
A Modest Proposal (For Literature Curriculum)
(This is a short “essay” I wrote for my pedagogy course. I’m putting it here because I think it might be of interest to you all. No, this is not an “academic” essay. It should be relatively accessible.) Canonical Chronicle: Thoughts of Pop Literature and Literature Curriculum One of the principal concerns I have with the present course of pre-college education in literature in the United States—and elsewhere—is the incessant reliance on teaching literature through the limited scope of the Western Canon. Perhaps in other parts of the world this canonical reliance shifts to accommodate different worldviews or interests, but the reliance is still there; thus, the United Kingdom, the United States, and Western Europe seemingly rely on the Western Canon, the Middle East, India, China, and other Asian nations possibly rely on the Eastern Canon, and those left out of this either have their own unique approaches to literature, no approaches whatsoever, or must adopt the educational perspective of other nations as a means of becoming part of the global atmosphere1. These narrowed approaches leave literature in a particularly nasty place: nowhere. How can literature possibly survive in our youth in such rigid, inflexible systems? True, the Western Canon does, on occasion, change, introducing new works of literature2, but these changes do not seem to have much influence on literature curriculum across the country. The same “staples” of literature—style, approved content, etc.—are invoked in these additions. As a science fiction enthusiast, it has long been an uphill battle—in the snow, during a blizzard—to make the case for popular literature as necessary for literature curriculum in pre-college education. I don’t push for any particular kind of popular literature, even though I see science fiction as one of the most relevant and valuable genres in existence. Instead, my criticisms of modern literature curriculum are with its inability to foster proper attitudes in students towards the process of reading. Standardized education has created a system that relies on repetition, rather than on relevance. As much as Shakespeare, Dickens, Twain, and Austen are important figures in our literary history, they do not hold the same influence on students today as J. K. Rowling, Dan Brown, Stephen King, and others. This isn’t to say that students are only influenced by pop-literature icons; some of these students may find themselves attracted to writers like Salman Rushdie, Amitav Ghosh, Margaraet Atwood, and others who have stormed onto the “literary fiction” scene in recent years, and who are largely unknown to the majority of present-day readers3. The point is that literature curriculum today is, I would argue, outdated in several ways: 1) in being focused on old, classic literature to the point of excess4; 2) in being largely unwilling to shift to more relevant literatures, such as those written by emerging and powerhouse writers of today; and 3) in being unable to accommodate the incredibly short-focused nature of pre-college students in “modern” culture. The result, based on personal experience as a former pre-college student and as the co-owner of a website for young writers, is that these rigid practices damage reading habits and perpetuate the relative assumption that literature has little meaning in our advanced, technology-driven society. Educational systems that are unable to see this are systems that fail students on a regular basis, creating learning conditions in which students do not see the value in what they are being taught. Why should a student learn about the crusades or world cultures or Charles Dickens when they fail to see the connection of that information to what matters to them now? Learning should be beneficial and self-replicating, rather than seen as a negative force or as simply a requirement that must be fulfilled because adults say so. What can be done about this? It took Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card almost twenty years to make its way into high school classrooms, and yet it is not as frequently taught as books like 1984 by George Orwell or Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, both science fiction texts that, while fantastic and worthy of further study, are still a part of that “old/classical” world. Will it take just as long for books like Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling, or Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie to work their way into pre-college curriculum? Will there have to be a tooth-and-nail fight to get these more relevant books (from the perspective of the students) into classrooms? Finally, there is the question of “how?” One approach, however chaotic, is the remarkably successful one adopted by Lorrie McNeill of Jonesboro, Georgia: The approach Ms. McNeill uses, in which students choose their own books, discuss them individually with their teacher and one another, and keep detailed journals about their reading, is part of a movement to revolutionize the way literature is taught in America’s schools. While there is no clear consensus among English teachers, variations on the approach, known as reading workshop, are catching on5. To be fair, the success is not all that surprising, particularly if you’re someone who actually went through the draining experience of high school English. I find it more surprising that schools are only now beginning to adopt such programs. Letting kids choose what they want to read, as opposed to forcing them only to read what is required by the system in place, produces results that are not only not surprising, but astonishingly obvious: kids actually want to read. Why? There are probably complicated answers to that, but the most obvious is: kids who get to make a choice have a higher likelihood of enjoying that choice. The concern, then, is with the process of changing our methods of teaching literature, of meeting the demands of students as they change with the future. The classics should still be upheld, even revered for how they have shaped our past, but mixing the old with the new is a way of creating an amalgamated pedagogical monster that does for reading, and literature
Book Review Up: Unholy Domain by Dan Ronco
Not much to say. I didn’t like this one. You can see my reasons here. I think I’m getting pickier and pickier with each book I read…
Crossing Genres: Is Cross Genre SF Killing Science Fiction?
Somewhere in the genre community there is someone blaming the death of science fiction on all those bastards mixing their filthy mysteries and romances with the hardcore awesomeness of SF. I don’t know where they are, but knowing the SF/F community as well as I do, I have no doubt that they exist, frothing at the mouth every time an author like Michael Chabon or Richard Morgan or *insert cross genre author here* tosses out a new, critically acclaimed book. After all, cross genre SF is a terrible amalgam that is systemically tearing down science fiction, piece by piece, right? Hardly. Cross genre is perhaps the best thing to happen to science fiction since the golden age, at least as far as being an intentional “movement.” What cross genre does is exactly what science fiction needs to convince people that it’s not the same thing it always was, that it’s not the spaceships and explosions and Star Wars/Star Trek rip-offs that too many people have allowed to flood their minds. It’s more than that. It’s complicated narratives involving anything from intense murder mysteries to complex relationships to interstellar battles. Spaceships and explosions may exist, but they are not contingent; they are probably elements of a particular brand of SF, a brand that cross genre circumvents, or, perhaps less negatively, moves around to take the genre in new directions. SF, ultimately, is better off with these non-traditional narratives injected into it. We need the mixture in SF as much as we need ideas and strong prose, especially if SF expects to survive and continue to be relevant. SF has to be able to move around, to work its way into the cracks of other genres and remind people that it’s there and ready to cause some literary damage. What do you think of cross genre SF? Do you hate it or think it’s great? Let me know!
Book Review Up: The Man Who Loved Books Too Much by Allison Hoover Bartlett
Another review up. This one you all have to read. I mean it. It’s one of the most amazing books I’ve read in a while. Check out my review here. Enjoy!
Curse Them All: Should You Use Them?
I have been reading an action-packed, violent book called Kell’s Legend by Andy Remic recently and the author’s style has brought me to this post. Those who are familiar with Remic are probably used to his unflinching desire to inject curse words liberally into his prose; they are also probably used to his rather detailed levels of violence, too. None of these things are necessarily bad, but they do make one think about the problem of cursing in fiction–or anything, for that matter. The problem with saying “you should only do this when” is that such a phrase is inherently arbitrary. The reality is that people have varying degrees of tolerance for foul language, including myself. For example: I typically have no issue with the f-word, s-word, b-word, crap, ass, and g-damn; however, I do have a problem with the n-word and the c-word, and more so with the latter than the former. Let me clarify before someone jumps down my throat. I can see when using the n-word might be necessary, particularly if you are trying to tell a certain kind of story about, perhaps, the civil rights movement in the United States or the Apartheid era of South Africa; it makes perfect sense that the n-word would show up in such instances. Outside of that, however, I see no use for it. The c-word, though, is, for me, pretty much intolerable; I can’t stand the word for too many reasons to count, and there have been times when its use has forced me to stop reading. That’s my personal opinion. Mine is not the only one, and no one answer is any more correct than another. To illustrate this point, I asked folks on my Twitter account to respond to the question: Do you tolerate cursing in the books you read? Where are your limits, if any? Here are some of their responses (with some minor editing): Dhympna: Yeah, I like cursing. I sometimes get annoyed by writers who use too many colloquial expressions. I get more annoyed by authors using particular vernacular and slang too much than actual cursing. In all fairness, I do tend to curse like a sailor, which is why it does not bother me. Kaolin Fire: No limits so long as the story’s interesting and it’s relevant. Whatever. GothixHalo: As long as the writing is good and the character development isn’t horrible, cursing isn’t a flaw. Using it as a replacement for good writing skills is a crime, though. Having to use curse words instead of competent words is pitiful. mspuma: I only respect cursing if it seems realistic. Overuse of cursing in writing is just an old shock value trick. Cussing in and of itself doesn’t offend me. They’re just words. But like any emphasized phraze/cliche, it loses its punch with repetition. Keeping all of these views in mind, it is important to note that there is no true answer to the question of cursing. What matters most is your personal taste. The market is not so black and white to make the claim for any particular level of restraint appropriate or right. In fact, because the market is so varied, it is only logical to assume that using curse words should be based on personal taste rather than anything else. Andy Remic, for example, has no qualms about using curses, and he has a market of readers who enjoy that. Other writers avoid curses entirely; they have a market two (and likely some overlap). Some people can’t stand Remic, I’m sure, and others love him; Remic, I imagine, loves himself quite a lot. Remic’s personal taste is clear: he likes to use curse words in his fiction. And he got published doing it. That is not to say that you shouldn’t demonstrate some restraint. Writing dialogue is not easy to do and having dialogue that is essentially a whole stream of f-words, s-words, and b-words will seem trite or perhaps unnecessarily vulgar. It all really depends on your audience. I often look at cursing as a combination of style and necessity; if the cursing is there only to be shocking or impedes the flow of the prose, then I’m out. What about you? Where are your limits on the matter of cursing in fiction, as writers or readers?