Guest Post and Giveaway: “The Cost of Magic Systems” by Christopher Hoare
(Giveaway info will be at the very end of this post.) I’d like to discuss some aspects of magic in fantasy novels, specifically how the magic in my novel Rast both differs from and coincides with that used as a plot device in other novels. First, in my novel, magic is described as a power active in a particular place; the magic kingdom of Rast, ruled by a Drogar, the sorcerer king. But later developments reveal that there is also another realm where magic is mastered, Easderly, where cousins of the sorcerer king reside, and from where a daughter has to be sent to be mother of a future sorcerer king. This is similar to the treatment in other works as well as folklore, where special places exist where magic happens – in Fairie or Lord Dunsany’s The King of Elfland’s Daughter. In fact, the latter work has a fairy princess necessary to bear a future magic king – clearly testimony to the power of magic’s distant influences, because I’d never heard of that novel before researching for this blog post. In this discussion I will assume (drearily lacking any sense of wonder) that in both the reader and myself, magic is accepted as being wholly fictional. This was not always the case, even in fiction; in William Shakespeare’s time, witches like the Weird Sisters in Macbeth and wizards like Prospero in The Tempest were widely considered to be real. To my mind, the greatest difference between the magic in Rast and that in almost every other work of fiction is the ‘price’ mine charges for its use. In all works where magic is a plot device, there are two considerations; firstly that there must be sufficient limits on its use to retain the necessary plausibility that opposition to the magic wielders is possible (there is no story else); secondly that these magic wielders have had to learn or otherwise exert themselves to acquire the ability. There is one exception that I will deal with later. In Rast, the ability to exersize magic is inherited, but has to be mastered and is ultimately fatal. It comes with a huge price; after a number of years the restless magic will overpower the sorcerer king and burst the bounds he places on it and so destroy him. This is the major plot problem of the story, which takes place during the interregnum while the old Drogar is losing his last struggle and his heir, Prince Egon, is learning how to take up the deadly power. The wieldable magic isn’t the only manifestation in Rast; there are magic entities and creatures that have been created in the past by magic, but always through the workings of the same magic force. Thus these are all interconnected to that force by a greater or lesser degree, making magic an immanent reality, like gravity. Magic artifacts are common to many fantasy novels, and there are a few artifacts of magic in Rast. The gossamer net that the Princes’ sweetheart uses to protect herself from the Deepning’s spells was created for the purpose in such a distant past that its origin is lost in myth. Prince Egon was given a saffron crystal by his father as an aid to learning to use and control the magic. The princess sent from Easderly was given one spell sealed in a bronze bound casket as a gift from her father. The Deepning, a magic created creature, can send out siren spells to lure victims, but they are actually part of its own substance. And the earlier exception I mentioned? In many works of fantasy the magic is bestowed by some form of object, a talisman, a wand, or a ritual object, and here we get very close to folklore and the belief that magic actually exists. How much difference is there between believing the power of a magic lamp or an enchanted sword and in that of a holy relic? While magic in fiction has to be an integral part of the law of the story, in the real world magic is something that is completely outside of the laws of physics – supernatural; a completely unnatural power. In fiction we might enjoy playing with a tamed facsimile of this magic, but the tension is always greater when the audience has been brought to suppress their scepticism and to fear it as the ancients did. Perhaps we are not all that distant from Shakespeare’s audience after all. ————————————————————– About Rast In Rast, magic is not a convenient parlour trick, it’s a deadly force that takes no prisoners. Those who must wield it are doomed, for it never ceases to work within the mind and nerves until it destroys its master. And now, the time of the interregnum is here; the reigning sorcerer king, the Drogar of Rast, is struggling for a last grasp on magic power while his heir, Prince Egon, must take up the deadly mantle. Egon is fearful but courageous in his duty. Not one peril threatens Rast, but many. While he struggles to tame the magic to his command the mechanistic Offrang adventurers arrive to seize the land for their empire. The Offrangs don’t just disbelieve in magic, they treat any attempt to discuss it with withering scorn. Then, when the Drogar falters, the North Folk sweep out in their multitudes to cover the land of Rast at the behest of their depraved Casket of Scrolls. Deepning too, a creature of earth magic in its mountain pools, stirs to gain power enough to conquer Rast. The Prince’s sweetheart Jady does her best to support him, but she is not strong enough in the power of the lineage to bear him a magic wielding heir. She sets out to meet the caravansi of the cousin princess who is sent to be his consort with duty and anger both warring in her mind. The crisis will reveal surprising enemies, surprising friends, and as the Drogar tells Jady, “Even
International SF/F: Does it get an out from the “cliche” argument?
I’ve been meaning to talk about this subject for a while, and it is result of an experience I had a few weeks ago when the fine folks over at Tor sent me Alexey Pehov’s Shadow Prowler. I am, by all accounts, somewhat more critical of fantasy for its lack of originality than I am of other genres. It’s not an unusual position to take, since so many arguments launched against various fantasy titles typically include terms like “derivative” or “Tolkien-esque” and so on. The genre is saturated with familiar tropes. But, as I’ve argued many times before, a good writer can take a fairly cliche idea and make it good. Additionally, Sometimes the way a book presents itself (i.e. via the cover and the cover synopsis) can alleviate a lot of the knee-jerk reactions readers may have when they discover a new fantasy title. It is this reaction that I want to talk about here.When I received Shadow Prowler in the mail, I was immediately pleased by the cover (see above), which led me straight to the text on the cover jacket. That is where the problems started. The description of Pehov’s story is, to put it mildly, about as cliche as it gets. Read for yourself: After centuries of calm, the Nameless One is stirring. An army is gathering; thousands of giants, ogres, and other creatures are joining forces from all across the Desolate Lands, united, for the first time in history, under one, black banner. By the spring, or perhaps sooner, the Nameless One and his forces will be at the walls of the great city of Avendoom. Unless Shadow Harold, master thief, can find some way to stop them.Epic fantasy at its best, Shadow Prowler is the first in a trilogy that follows Shadow Harold on his quest for a magic Horn that will restore peace to the Kingdom of Siala. Harold will be accompanied on his quest by an Elfin princess, Miralissa, her elfin escort, and ten Wild Hearts, the most experienced and dangerous fighters in their world…and by the king’s court jester (who may be more than he seems…or less). Great. Another novel about some Nameless One with elfin princesses and a city so cleverly called Avendoom (ha ha ha, get it, Avendoom…and the city is threatened by the Nameless One). But then I read this and my reaction changed: Reminiscent of Moorcock’s Elric series, Shadow Prowler is the first work to be published in English by the bestselling Russian fantasy author Alexey Pehov. The book was translated by Andrew Bromfield, best known for his work on the highly successful Night Watch series. Something about the explanation of the texts’ origins caused me to pause. A Russian fantasy epic originally published in Russian? A link to another fantastic series by another Russian SF/F great? Suddenly I was interesting and a little inner dialogue shot off in my head: Me: Oh, well, he’s a Russian author writing fantasy. That’s interesting.My Head: So?Me: So, I want to read it.My Head: But a minute ago you rolled your eyes and sighed because it sounded too cliche.Me: Yeah, but that was before I knew he was Russian.My Head: So, if you’re Russian, you can get away with it?Me: Apparently.My Head: You realize how stupid that sounds, right?Me: Quiet, you. You’re just my head talking. While the dialogue didn’t proceed exactly as described above, it does provide a basis for the complete turnaround I had when I discovered the novel’s origins: translated from Russian. I even gawked at my own idiocy. Why was I suddenly okay with a novel that sounds horribly cliched? Why did the fact that it is an international book change my mind? Stranger yet is the fact that I am/was fully aware of the long tradition of genre fiction in Russian history, dating back centuries. But, there I was, suddenly excited about a novel that only moments before I was about to toss onto my “likely will never read because it’s too cliche” pile. Maybe it’s a good thing, though. Maybe more reactions like this should happen so that novels like Shadow Prowler don’t get lost in the sea of English-based fantasy titles loaded with just as many cliches. Something about that makes me feel strange, though. To end this, I have a few questions:–Does international SF/F get an out from the “cliche” argument simply because it is international? (apply this to any international SF/F, not just Russian)–Is it a good thing that one can go from being annoyed to being excited about a book due entirely to the discovery of its international origins? I feel uneasy saying yes to the first question, simply because of the stages many developing or developed nations go through in terms of genre fiction (you can, largely speaking, trace the same general literary developments in science fiction in just about every nation, with some exceptions). And, I feel uneasy saying no to the last question, because excitement for any text is a good thing; if my interest in this text leads me to read it and, perhaps, love it, it might engender a willingness to open my mind to more fiction in this particular vein and more fiction from international venues (which I’m already fairly open to, though I don’t go out of my way to find the stuff, with exception to Caribbean SF–more on that some other time). What do you think? Am I insane? Has this ever happened to you?
Science Fiction and Fantasy in Airports
As promised, I do have something interesting to point out about the presence of science fiction and fantasy in airports, and something that might be a good indicator of the power of books among travelers. First things first, I can honestly say that I’ve seen a significant increase in the number of book-specific shops in airports. I don’t know if this is national or international, but I’ve traveled a little bit over the last few years and I have noticed two things: 1) that there are more book-specific shops springing up all over the place, and 2) that some areas are insanely more book-friendly than others (St. Louis and Atlanta, for example, have a lot of book shops and places that carry books). But what is more interesting than this is how strong of a presence science fiction and fantasy have. When you walk into a book-specific shop, there is almost always a section specific to science fiction and fantasy (and a section for YA, which is usually loaded to the teeth with fantasy titles). Sometimes the section is quite small, and other times it’s about the same size as all of the other sections (non-fiction, general fiction, and so on). The only downside to this is that these shops have a tendency to carry very little in terms of new work, which means that many of these SF/F sections are more like the classic literature section that most of these places have. It’s unfortunate, but there must be a reason for it; you don’t carry old SF/F (as in classic SF/F) if you’re not selling it. This isn’t to say that these stores don’t carry newer titles; they do, but they typically only carry the more prominent new titles, such as works from various high-profile urban fantasy authors or big names in SF literature. But, what’s to complain about? They have SF/F in the bookstores in airports! Now that I’ve pointed out the more obvious aspects of SF/F’s presence in airports, I think it’s worth noting the much more hidden and telling presence: book sections within non-book-specific shops. While I was in St. Louis a few weeks back, I decided to check out this little tech shop (headphones, phones, DVDs, games, things like that–InMotion Entertainment, I think) in the airport and was surprised to discover that they had a book section that was not only SF/F friendly, but possibly one of the best SF/F book sections I have seen for the size (four shelves no more than three feet wide). What was so special about it? The titles they carried represented a wide range of unique titles you might not find in your local bookstore, and all of the books had gorgeous covers. They had, for example, Paul McAuley’s Gardens of the Sun:They had loads of other titles too, many of which I hadn’t heard of until then and most of which looked fascinating (yes, I’ve heard of McAuley’s work, but I didn’t write down the titles of all the others, and I’ve since forgotten them). I might have bought a book or two if I hadn’t already spent over $100 on books during the PCA/ACA conference. The selection was simply fantastic. If you wanted something new and a little less popcorn-y, then you’d have to go to this shop. The point of all of this is that airports are incredibly SF/F friendly. While the selection is not always the greatest (depending on the airport), there are almost always SF/F titles somewhere. I’m not sure what this says about our culture. These stores don’t carry SF/F if it doesn’t sell, so people must be requesting and buying the stuff. Do SF/F books make great travel reads in the same way that others genres have been for decades? Perhaps. What do you think?
Question: If you were going to teach a class on fantasy literature, what would you cover?
That’s a big question. I’ve always wanted to design an introductory course on science fiction or fantasy (doing both at the same time would be impossible). Selecting texts, however, is always a problem for any genre-specific course. Where do you start? Where do you end? Which movements do you represent or ignore? Do you risk bringing in texts that few people have heard of in the hope of trying to show the true breadth of the fantasy genre, or do you keep it simple and recognizable, at risk of being a little dull or cliche? Now, I’m no expert on designing literature courses, primarily because I’m a fairly new educator. That said, if I were to devise an introductory sixteen week college course on fantasy literature, it would look something like the following: Novels, etc. (in order by movement or period)The Epic of Gilgamesh (pretty much the earliest fantasy text in existence) — Between 20th and 16th Centuries B.C.E.The Odyssey by Homer (if any text has been integral to the creation of the modern fantasy genre, it is this one) — 8th Century B.C.E.Phantastes by George MacDonald (1858) OR Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll (1865)(either of these texts would be a great introduction to the trend of secondary-world fantasy we are so familiar with today)The Metamorphosis and Other Stories by Franz Kafka (a lot of classic must-reads for early weird and magical realist writing here) — 1916-19The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien (because you have to have it, even if you don’t want to) — 1954-55Duncton Wood by William Horwood (by far one of the best animal fantasies ever written, but without all the swords and things) — 1980The Shadow of the Torturer by Gene Wolfe (a unique and powerful fantasy story worth reading and discussing) — 1986Ship of Magic by Robin Hobb (a great book for discussing social dynamics and issues of gender) — 1999The House of the Stag by Kage Baker (an excellent modern fantasy tale with a wonderful fairytale twist) — 2008 Note: I would argue that The Epic of Gilgamesh, Beowulf, and The Odyssey are interchangeable. It really doesn’t matter where you start, because you can talk about all three of these texts without putting all of them on the curriculum. It really depends on personal tastes. Personally, I think the ones I selected for the list are more accessible for a more general audience; Beowulf can be a very difficult text for some folks. I would also recommend shoving The Rings of the Nibelung by Richard Wagner immediately prior to The Lord of the Rings if there is space and time for it; it represents one of the most obvious precursors to Tolkien’s greatest works. You could even show the last act of the opera if you’re so inclined. Critical Texts:The Fantastic by Tzvetan Todorov (offers a provocative theoretical approach to literature and the fantastic) — 1973Fantasy: The Literature of Subversion by Rosemary Jackson (another interesting theoretical text that would do some good for engaging with the novels above) — 1981Rhetorics of Fantasy by Farah Mendlesohn (possibly one of the best critical texts to be written in the last ten years) — 2008 Note: Likely the texts in this section would be read in excerpts as supplements to the fiction reading. There are also essays I’d put in here that aren’t directly related to fantasy as supplements to specific themes and texts. I don’t know if I’d show movies in such a course. There are a lot of films worth considering. For example, instead of reading The Lord of the Rings, you could having movie nights to watch the films (which I think are better than the books anyway). There are a lot of other interesting films to consider, such as: The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, Legend, or The Fountain. Looking above, it’s clear that I’m leaving out a lot of movements and genres–New Weird, Young Adult Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, and others. It’s inevitable, though. So, any thoughts?
RoF’s Women-Only Issue: Good or Bad?
Realms of Fantasy Magazine recently announced that in August of 2011 they will be releasing a special themed issue of the magazine called “Women in Fantasy.” The idea is that every department will be dedicated to that theme in some way, and only women can submit. I have mixed feelings about this: Are they going to do a “Men in Fantasy” issue? If not, why? While I understand the impetus behind creating the issue, it also has the potential to do more harm than good if the RoF folks aren’t careful. Yes, there should be more women writers in SF/F, but this is going one step farther by intentionally discriminating based on sex, without considering fairness; it could be seen as playing the payback game rather than doing anything for the community as a whole. This, to me, could be as divisive as all the other discussions begun and ended over the last year. I don’t think this is nearly as “revolutionary” as the title and the explanation seems to indicate. While there are not enough recognizable female figures in the speculative genres, this is far less true of fantasy than science fiction. Most of the problems with under-representation seem focused more on SF than F. If Analog or Asimov’s were doing a similar thing, then not only would there be more of an uproar (for various reasons, many of them wrong), but such as issue would have a greater impact on the genre. Right now? I don’t see this as being all that revolutionary when you consider that their primary genre (fantasy) is much more friendly to women than other genres (and no, I am not saying that F is perfect at all). I agree with one of the commentators that the “Women in Fantasy” idea comes off very much like a stunt. I don’t mind stunts, generally speaking, but when dealing with a clearly sensitive issue, this is problematic. I fail to understand why this issue of RoF is “women only” when the theme is “Women in Fantasy.” Is there an assumption that men can’t properly address the topic? Are men assumed to be less adequate at writing female characters or talking about women figures in fantasy? I don’t know. Maybe that’s not what they are thinking, but these are things that pop into my head. Generally speaking, I like the idea behind it. I think an issue dedicated to the discussion of women in fantasy (including fiction about women in fantasy worlds) is a fantastic idea. It could turn into something stunning, if done right. Having said all of this, I’m both curious and put-off by RoF’s “Women in Fantasy” issue. I hope it turns out well, but I think the potential for it to be regarded as something astonishing may be hampered by a failure to address the underlying problems of a gender-specific issue. We’ll see how it turns out. (Mike Brotherton offers his opinion here.)
Cultural Literacy and Genre Fiction
I’ve been researching this concept called “cultural literacy” in preparation for my final paper in my pedagogy course. In doing so, I’ve come to an interesting “revelation,” if you will. Science fiction and fantasy are part of our culture as much as something like math or English; they are unconscious elements present in all of us that sometimes make themselves known, and other times remain in the background, operating as little signals in the reaction center of the brain. The obvious, though, is how science fiction and, to a lesser extent, fantasy have consumed popular culture. As much as all the other elements that seem to make up the culturally literate figure (history by locale, basic science, math, etc., and all those things that make up our language, our thought processes, and our acknowledgment of the social, however minute or forgotten), pop culture as embodied by SF/F has consumed society itself. Even if you don’t want SF/F television or movies, you know about them. Even if you don’t read Harry Potter or Twilight, you know about them, and you may even know about all of these things in some basic detail. You know, for example, without having read Twilight, that Meyers wrote a book about vampires and something resembling romance; you know that Harry Potter is about a boy wizard and wizard-like things; you know that Star Wars has the Force and lightsabers and Darth Vader; you know that Star Trek is about humans and some guy with pointy ears traveling around in the universe seeing nifty stuffs. We all know these things (well, almost all of us) in the U.S. (and Canada and the U.K., mostly likely), because they make up a part of who we are and how we communicate with the greater social apparatus. John Scalzi said it clearly: SF (and you have assume even F, to a lesser extent) has mainstream acceptance. Whether or not it has any other form of acceptance seems irrelevant at this point. SF/F is a part of our culture, part of that cultural literacy that some older theorists have suggested allows every one of us to be able to communicate without confusing the hell out of one another. And you have to think about that for a minute and bask in the amazing sensation of that feeling. Science fiction and fantasy have become so integral to the social landscape of the U.S. and other countries, that even Shakespeare is being challenged by the new social paradigm. Having thought all of this, I have only one thing left to say: now what?