Fantasy Factoids

It amazes me how many fantasy worlds have ancient civilizations with far better technology, magic, what-have-you. The Ancient Civilization is a common idea, but it’s not one that always has a lot of logic behind it. Science fiction also has similar ideas (Stargate is a great example, but there are many others). And it’s not just discovering Ancient Civilizations per se; sometimes it’s discovering forgotten technology. Anne McCaffrey’s Pern is a classic example. Many other authors tie their fantasy worlds into something that is actually based in science, where “magic” is old technology that no one understands anymore, and that extra bright star in the sky is actually an old satellite or space ship. Let me ask you something: how many ancient civilizations have we actually discovered remains from who have had technology beyond what we had when we found it? And then what are the odds it would still work? So far, we haven’t seen anything beyond what we already had—at least, that worked. Stonehenge and other mysterious artifacts and structures are around, but we don’t know what they were meant for and we certainly don’t know how to work them as they were intended. You can try and debate tall tales of magical things from the past, but until I see hard proof, I’m going to keep my healthy dose of cynicism. I’m not talking about grading technologies as superior or inferior; I’m looking more at the knowledge base required to provide an artifact that we can discover and use today that supplies something we don’t already know or have the capability to do. On a logical level, people come across major artifacts before they’re ancient, and cultural groups rarely just up and disappear from their homes. If there’s something “cool” around, it’s rare that other people don’t adopt it in some way. Look at all the changes in battle and warfare via weapons and metallurgy in the Mediterranean and Northern Africa way back when. People are inquisitive, and want the advantages that something new can give them. On top of all that, it takes luck and a lot of hard work and research to figure out the past. There are a lot of discoveries that archaeologists have branded as religious or ceremonial simply because they don’t understand what an object was used for. And do we know how the pyramids were built? I sure don’t. There’s an awful lot we don’t know, and an awful lot that we aren’t equipped to find out. The past gets buried over time unless we seek it out. If we’re using archaeological digs to discover information from two or three centuries ago, should we expect that thousands of years won’t cover up ruins? I happen to think that if an Ancient Civilization was that awesome, a writer had better have a good reason for why it collapsed and why no one knows about it. They also need to know why it’s not a pile of dust or buried if it’s still standing thousands of years later. I don’t exactly walk down the street and around the corner to some dilapidated ruins–my city was built on top of them because they were in a good spot. There aren’t magical abandoned cities hanging around with which to produce the odd deus ex machina to solve our moral battles with other societies. We do, however, write stories about them. And we do romanticise them (see also: Donovan’s Atlantis). My question, then, becomes why do we look to the past to provide for the future? What is it that we expect, or more importantly hope, to find? If you don’t know the history you’re doomed to repeat it is an idea that gets drilled in somewhere in junior high. History and our shared past is important. Humans want to know their stories, and people want to get on with things, so to speak. It’s a nice thought that someone out there did all the work for us, and all we have to do is stumble upon the deus ex ruins for a solution.But what does this really say about us?Sara J. normally blogs on Jumpdrives & Cantrips.

I was doing my usual browsing and blog checking when I came on to this post from The Deckled Edge, which led me to this forum discussion, this post by Joe Abercrombie, and this post over at Neth Space. I guess it never occurred to me that the concept of map-making was such a big issue out there. As a fantasy reader, a ‘writer’ if you will, I do get a certain sense of joy from maps, but I’ve never held it against a book for not having a map, or against the author for that matter. So what is this big deal about maps? I think there are some serious issues with having maps, even though I do like them. Addressing the bad things first is probably the best way to approach this, giving me ample time to talk about the good things at the tale end. What are the bad things? First, I think there is this stigma with maps that if you make one, as I have, you have to stick with it so long as it is available to the prying eyes of readers. I learned this very lesson the hard way when I realized I had designed the map for Traea with one location in the wrong place. This resulted in a whole slue of text being wrong. Originally I had wanted to beg the fine fellow who had given me the professional quality map to fix it for me, but realized that would be a waste of time. It wouldn’t take me more than ten minutes to go through the text and change all the words indicating the direction of this location to another location. But my work isn’t in print. I have that luxury. I can change things as I see fit and have leeway to do so. Writers who are published can’t screw up if they publish a map. This presents some problems, obviously. If you screw up, people are going to notice and they will probably hold it against you, especially if you’re popular. Also, you can’t fix it. Meaning, you can’t screw up. Once that published map is screwy, that’s it. This is a significant problem because sometimes writers want to change things. Maybe they put a city somewhere and realize “hey, I don’t want that there after all”. This is part of the reason why I’ve left some of the areas of Traea unexplored. I didn’t want to indicate what is out there partly because I don’t know where or what it is at the moment and to leave a little suspense. Second, maps have a tendency to leave out bits and pieces. You can’t put everything into a map and as a result people with too much time on their hands will ridicule it. This is an argument made against Eragon, possibly for a valid reason, though I’m not sure. The map from Eragon doesn’t show any smaller towns aside from those cities and places mentioned in the story, yet there are massive armies. I think one has to be very careful when making maps when it comes to this. You have to make it look realistic, which leads us to our next problem. Third, realism is somewhat important in making maps, but at the same time we’re dealing, primarily speaking, with worlds that don’t exist. It’s sort of a catch 22: you have to be real, but unreal at the same time. So, maps that look particularly ridiculous end up really making the book seem stupid, if people pay attention to them at least. If your map is shaped like a bunny and your story is supposed to be serious, well, you get the idea. Maps do have benefits, though. Fans love them and they look pretty. Those are two very good things, obviously. They’re fun to make too. Who doesn’t like sitting around drawing random maps of stuff and making up little worlds? I have an entire folder full of maps that I’ve drawn at some point. Most of them will never get used, but I had fun doing them. But are maps important? Do they really need to be there for the story to succeed? That’s a definite no. If your story can’t survive without having a map, then it’s not a very well written story to begin with. I shouldn’t have to resort to looking at your map to figure out where your characters are or what the terrain might look like. That’s your job as the writer to describe everything properly so the reader has an idea what is going on. This is especially important because some people don’t look at maps. I personally am not a map person when it comes to reading books. I might glance at them, but I never examine them. Basically, I see no point in using a map to keep track of things in the book. As I said, if you can’t write well enough so I know what is going on, then you’re wasting my time. Joe Abercrombie says: Call me foolish as well, but I do think having a map there can damage the sense of scale, awe, and wonder that a reader might have for your world. It’s like that moment in the horror film when you finally see the monster. What? That’s it? I was scared of a piece of foam rubber? The unknown can be mysterious, exciting, in a way that a few squiggles on a piece of paper often … aren’t. It’s a bit like the problem I have with literal fantasy artwork of the characters on a cover. Pictures work very powerfully compared to words. Straight away the reader’s imagination is constricted by what they’ve seen there, and I’d like to think of my readers’ imaginations running wild and free, roaming far and wide like a noble mountain goat, or something. I fully agree. There is a sense of awe that is lost. That great feeling of reading and