Fantasy Clichés: The Good, the Bad, and the Published (Part Two)
In the last part of this, I talked about whether or not clichés are bad. Now it’s to the discussion of whether or not fantasy clichés have any influence on publishing, in my opinion. My short answer is: well, yes, but… The “but” is the important part. While it is assumed by some that publishers are on the lookout for the next original fantasy novel, the reality is that they’re just looking for well written novels. That’s it. Sometimes they get it right, and sometimes they don’t. Publishers don’t care if you think that your novel is the most original thing since Tolkien. They’ve heard the same ego trip before and, at this point, it’s a bit stale. It doesn’t matter how original you think your novel is, because it’s not. Unique, sure, but not original. And that’s the important part. The best fantasy novels, as I mentioned before, aren’t ones that are claimed to be original by the author (who is almost always wrong and is almost always writing obviously clichéd fantasy trash); the best fantasy novels are ones written by authors who take clichés and make them their own. Publishers, again, are not concerned with whether or not your fantasy novel is cliché, because it already is by default. What they are concerned about is whether or not your novel is interesting, well-written, and worthy of the paper it may potentially be printed on. If a publisher doesn’t think it can sell your work, then it’s not going to take it. Period (with rare exception to those small presses that are less interested in sales and more interested in purely unique stories; such places have a tendency to focus their attention on matters of style and the nature of the content than on anything else). Having said all that, there really is little to be concerned about in regards to clichés. The only time one should be concerned is if their work is a direct ripoff of something already told, or if the clichés are made exceedingly obvious by poor execution. What this means is that you probably shouldn’t retell Tolkien’s LOTR series and you probably should avoid having Tolkien elves who live forever and act like Spock. Of course, you can still get published with these sorts of things, but I suspect that has more to do with a well-crafted plot than anything else. There is, of course, a problem with all this. We all have different opinions on what constitutes good execution. A lot of novels that are quite obviously cliché have been published, and quite a few have been rather successful. What does this say about the publishing world? I don’t know, to be honest. Those novels sell, so perhaps what it is saying is that publishers are simply following the money. As long as we buy the books, they’ll keep making them. So while many fantasy purists and junkies may find the clichéd forms of fantasy to be trash, but such folks aren’t necessarily the largest demographic for fantasy. They’re the folks who read the stuff that sells well, but not always well enough to get onto the bestsellers list. Perhaps the question to ask about all this is whether or not fantasy clichés are a good thing in the publishing world. What do you think? Are the more cliché forms of fantasy literature necessarily lesser forms (in the same way that media tie-ins)?
Fantasy Clichés: The Good, the Bad, and the Published (Part One)
Recently over at Dragon Federation (the quite awesome new site for SF/F blog reviewers and their fans can hang out and tip back a few imaginary beers) SparklingBlue brought up an interesting topic that I have discussed before, but haven’t really delved into: I was wondering your opinion on the subject of clichés in fantasy–are they a good thing or a bad thing; and will a book still sell even though it has what is considered cliche in fantasy? The problem with fantasy fiction is that it is, by default, a clichéd genre. Very little, if any, original fantasy is being written today. What is being written is fantasy that utilizes interesting methods of retelling old ideas, revitalizing classic fantasy creations, etc. I’ve said similar before, and I often get lambasted for doing so. Why? Because readers of fantasy don’t like to have their genre criticized for what is a reality. Fantasy is incapable of escaping its mythic roots, as much as it tries–contemporary fantasy and magical realism are really as close as you get to an escape, and even then it’s only a faux escape hidden under flowery language or the intensely strange. It is embedded into the mythology of thousands of years of human history and equally as embedded into the exceedingly long, and truly astonishing history of literature. From the dawn of the written form (whether as words or pictures) we have been telling stories of gods, monsters, magical beings, and heroic journeys. Obviously these are some of the most cliché elements of fantasy, but I’m using them to make a point, because most fantasy uses some or all of these in some capacity or another. Some call the things I refer to as clichés “tropes,” which is pretty much the same thing in terms of literature (which seems to have its own dictionary in much the same way that science does, apparently). Whether they are tropes or clichés, these elements, whatever they may be, are built into the fabric of the fantasy genre. It is incapable of disentangling itself from its history and easily as incapable of disentangling itself from its commonplace parts. This is why the notion of “original fiction” is, by default, nothing more than a noble gesture. Fiction is only original in the sense that a particular author manages to do something different with an old thing. Some might argue here, however, that science fiction is a genre of the original; the problem with this assessment is that it assumes ideas are the same as plots, characters, etc. Science fiction is only original in that it sometimes invents new things that are separate, in some capacity, from the body of literature that precedes it. This has a lot to do with the fact that science fiction is as embedded into the present as fantasy is embedded into the past. None of this is necessarily bad. To get upset over this reality–that fantasy is a cliché genre by default–is like getting upset over finding out that ice cream and frozen yogurt come from cows at some point down the line. But clichés make a work crappy, right? Well, no, not always. Clichés are bad news when: There are a lot of them. The author fails to do something different with old concepts. The author tries something sadly obvious to make it seem like he or she is being original (having elves and calling them bingles instead, for example). The above list isn’t set in stone, though. But we’ll leave that to the next post, which will address the publishing side of all this. For now, I’ll stick with whether clichés are good or bad. The thing about clichés is that they are perceived to be bad when they are written poorly. It becomes pretty obvious when reading a book that the author didn’t care enough to try to mask his or her use of clichéd elements. You’ll find elves and wizards doing what they’ve always done in fantasy and the reader (us) is left wondering: why did I bother with this crap? Good writers try to write clichés in a way that doesn’t draw attention to the fact that you’ve seen it before. A prime example, I think, is Karen Miller (author of The Innocent Mage and The Awakened Mage). With these two novels, Miller succeeded in avoiding the instinctual drive towards originality by taking several clichéd elements and writing them in a way that doesn’t automatically draw the reader’s attention to the fact of their commonality. Her work takes clichés like prophecies and magic and spins them on their head. Instead of just another story of the chosen one rising up and winning against the evil bad guy, Miller gave us a story in which the chosen one is not at all what one would expect, and someone without any interest in matters of prophecy, magic, higher culture, etc. Her use of magic, too, avoids the cliché all-too-prevalent in fantasy (the white-haired or old wizard mentor) and instead twists magic around, making it dark, but necessary. There are few, if any, super-powered ninja wizards running around blasting holes in the moon. And Miller may be one of the few fantasy authors with the ability to write dialects into dialogue. Her main character, Asher, speaks with a clear type of accent, and the she writes his dialogue draws us into that world of peasantry and class conflict. All this is to illustrate the point that one doesn’t have to be original so much as unique. Yes, those terms are different. To be original is to precede all others, to be the first. To be unique is to be radically distinctive. Miller, I believe, is just that. And I think that will conclude this post. In the second installment I’ll talk about how the nature of clichés influences publishing (as I see it). If you have an opinion on this, feel free to let me know in the comments!
Ten Reasons Why Fantasy Is Still Awesome
Hot on the heels of my “Ten Reasons Why Science Fiction Is Still Awesome” list, here is my take on the reasons why fantasy is still awesome. This list was much more difficult than the last primarily because most of the reasons I came up with were cliche. I wanted to do something more with this list than just talk about dragons and magic (granted, those things are in this list, just not as separate items). Don’t be scared to leave me a comment.And here goes: PopularityIt seems like the fantasy genre never had to worry about dying out. It’s always been popular and probably always will be because it is the ultimate escape. Science fiction, unfortunately, is limited in scope. It can only go so far before it becomes fantasy. Fantasy can go anywhere, anytime, anyplace (why it doesn’t, I don’t know). And with all the movies, TV shows, comics, etc. being made out of fantasy series, I don’t expect this popular boom to stop. Improves LiteracyYou might disagree with me on this, but I see the fantasy genre as one that has drastically improved literacy across multiple generations and improved the desire to read among the young. Harry Potter may not be the best fantasy or literature in general, but it has fired up the imaginations of kids all around the world. Even Twilight and Paolini’s Eragon have done wonders for literacy and reading. Say what you will about any of these authors. The fact remains that while kids are still picking these books up, they’re still reading. Some of them may move on and try more “literary” things, or some may stick with fantasy, or science fiction, or both. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they’re reading! VarietyHow many different series are there in fantasy? How many of them are still going? Every year the list gets longer and longer. The genre isn’t letting up. True, I find the automatic move towards the trilogy or the never-ending series tiring, but the one thing you can’t knock fantasy for is the variety. There are so many authors, so many different kinds of fantasy, so many publishers, so many lengths and characters, etc. The tropes are still there, but if you’re willing to flutter along the edges you can find some fascinating, thought-provoking works. MoviesFor some reason it seems like fantasy books make far better movies that science fiction books do. Case in point:The Lord of the Rings movies were absolutely brilliant, as were the books. 2001: A Space Odyssey or Blade Runner? Not so much. Visually they were brilliant, but as far as being entertaining films…not by a long shot.Fantasy has Stardust, Harry Potter, the Chronicles of Narnia, Spiderwick, and Conan (yes, this last one was a good movie for what it was, thank you). Science fiction can’t really compare as far as well-rounded films go. This is referring ONLY to books turned into movies. As far as completely original works in film form, science fiction trumps fantasy every single time (Star Wars, Star Trek, etc.). Contemporary FantasyThis “new” trend of fantasy stories that flirt with the edges of the genre are particularly fascinating these days. It’s probably partially because they’re being written by people far outside of the genre (or at least not people who are known as part of the genre), or maybe it’s for entirely different reasons. Either way, contemporary fantasy, as a genre that isn’t all that new and yet feels so, well, fresh, is, in my opinion, revitalizing an already healthy genre. To put it simply, it adds character. Escapism (Still)Fantasy is still the kind of escapism, and I mean that in a good way. While some of its subgenres have become a little tired, new forms are erupting all over the place, drawing people in and giving them the opportunity to see fantastic worlds that never existed, to meet kings and magicians, and to see amazing creatures brought to life. Fantasy is still the only genre that truly offers an escape into the impossible, and it will continue to do so in the future. ImaginativenessThis ties into escapism, but at the same time is separate. Fantasy has an obvious history as the genre of the imagination, where things come to life that otherwise could never exist. Science fiction does a good job covering the possible, but fantasy covers all that stuff that never will be. As such, it’s a genre of imaginative elements, drawn together into new and striking worlds and characters. The cliches are still around, but the longer you look into the genre, the more you come to realize how much creative diversity exists there (it’s interesting, also, to consider that many of those old cliche elements are now being reworked and changed; orcs can now defy their “programming” and be good folks, if you can believe it). Comics/Graphic NovelsWhile I’m sure there are some excellent science fiction comics/graphic novels, most of the ones I have enjoyed have been fantasy, in some shape or form (and almost always some sort of Japanese concoction). Even the superhero genre has a hard time breaking out of the fantasy genre, if that was ever its intention. Granted, a lot of the best comic/graphic novel-based movies were science fiction, but that doesn’t seem to have phased the thriving fantasy comic/graphic novel market. I’m particularly fond of manga (such as the work of Yuu Watase, who did Alice 19th, one of my favorites). Manly Men and Strong WomenUnlike other genres (like cyberpunk), fantasy is populated by strong female leads and manly men. When I say manly men, I mean dudes who wield swords and chop off orc limbs with ease. None of this dork with bifocals waltzing around getting laid by cybernetically augmented super witches crap. No, in fantasy, the status quo is still maintained for the sake of realism. Do any of us really believe that a super dork can land a hot girl one not and spend the next twelve hours
Top Ten Fantasy Movies
I’ve been thinking about how much attention I have paid to science fiction in the last year (or more) and it dawned on me that I should really do a top ten list of what I consider to be the best fantasy movies. I’ve done a top ten for science fiction and for series (even splitting the latter into the best, the overrated, and the worst). So without further procrastination, here’s the list (in no particular order): Lord of the Rings (Peter Jackson)This should be an automatic addition to any fantasy movies list. I’m treating the trilogy as one movie here primarily because the books were original one book and only when pressed by the publisher did Tolkien relinquish his hold on the massive single-story concept. These films were stunning not just for the computer animation or the story, but the sheer dedication of the film crew, the actors, and the creators (the costumers, the bigature folks, etc.). And then there’s Peter Jackson and his writing crew, who pulled this masterpiece together. LegendFew people know about this film and it’s honestly quite astonishing that it has stayed below the radar so long. It desperately needs a cult following. This film starred a young Tom Cruise and a typically creepy Tim Curry (who played the demon). It’s one of those films that was probably seen as absurdly childish and “cliché” when it first came out, but when you look back you can really see some larger things playing out. Or, at least, I think so. Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black PearlTo make it clear, I’m only talking about the first movie, not the ones following it. The first PotC film had a lot going for it: good graphics, good acting, good story, and humor. Whenever I think of PotC I think of the first scene where we meet Jack Sparrow. I laughed so hard in the theatre when his ship sank and he stepped off onto the dock. So, this is a must have on this list. The Wizard of OzBecause it’s a classic, it still holds up despite its age, and it’s arguably one of the best musicals of all time. You don’t even have to have seen the original Wizard of Oz to know something about it. Just like PotC and 300, it has become one of those culture-influencing films that changes the world at large, even if the world isn’t aware of it. The only way you don’t know something about the Wizard of Oz is if you’ve been living in a box or you’re too young to know what the heck all the dancing, singing things on the TV are. Princess Mononoke (Mononoke-hime)Some will probably disagree with me on this. I think this is one of Miyazaki’s best films. I liked Spirited Away quite a bit, but it didn’t stick with me nearly as much as Princess Mononoke. Perhaps I liked the message the film was sending because of how rooted in Japanese mythology it was, or because of how powerful the story was without having to resort to cheap tactics. It’s a stunning film with a surprisingly good English-dub cast. Toy StoryThe first Toy Story was mind-bogglingly amazing when I first saw it. Hilarious, poignant, and imaginative, this film set the stage for what Pixar was to do for the rest of its existence. A cute film for kids that appealed, surprisingly, to all ages. I can still watch Toy Story and enjoy it as a 25-year-old man. Why? Because it’s ageless. The Princess BrideHeading up the sadly tiny genre of comedic fantasy, The Princess Bride was and still is one of my favorite movies of all time. My sister brought it to my attention and to this day it is one of my favorites. How can you not like this movie? It puts together all the ridiculous clichés of the genre while giving you a cast containing a mixed bag of fantastic actors (who didn’t love Andre the giant?). Classic, timeless, and still one of the best films of all time hands down. The Neverending StoryI’m putting this on this list not because I have watched it as much as the others, but because it did something to me as a youngling that few films meant for kids was capable of doing: it terrified the hell out of me. Literally. I could never watch it all the way through as a kid. Not only was the wolf freaking scary (even though it was just a puppet), but the Nothing freaked me out. In a way, the whole film was a dark fantasy that awoke all my childhood fears. I love the film, but it’s hard for me to watch. Some of the darkness in my writing comes from this brilliant Wolfgang Peterson flick. WillowI know I’m going to get ripped on for this, but Willow is still one of my favorite films. It’s cliché, I know, and I actually have a strange phobia of little people, but something about Willow is charming. Maybe it’s because Ron Howard was involved, or maybe it’s just because it’s a cute story. Either way, the film takes a silly cliché and twists is around to provide a fantasy adventure. True, it seems like a rip-off of LOTR, what with the main cast being little people from a faraway place where regular men (us) don’t hang out, but I think what Willow did that LOTR failed to do was make a story that was more believable. After all, there are no silly moments in the end where you go “wait, couldn’t they have just taken a giant eagle to the volcano instead of wasting all those months nearly dying of starvation?” Alice in WonderlandChoosing the final item for this list was difficult. I realize that I had placed a lot of children’s movies on this list, but it seems somewhat funny that the vast majority of good fantasy happens to be made for kids. In
Science Fiction/Fantasy Awards: The Hugos and Other Things
Recently the blogosphere has been somewhat up in arms about the whole SF/F awards thing, particularly the Hugos. After reading some of what Adam Roberts had to say and what some others said in response, I decided that I should give my two cents on the issue. Apparently there are two primary items that folks are discussing: the Hugo Awards aren’t getting enough votes (apparently a horrendously dismal amount); and whether or not awards like the Hugo, Nebula, etc. are worthless. My personal opinion on the voting problem for the Hugo Awards is that the folks that run it are simply outdated. Back in the day (assuming that they’ve run the Hugos relatively the same since when it first started out) there weren’t a lot of ways for folks to communicate about their favorite books. There was no Internet, telephoning people you didn’t know was pretty much impossible (or creepy), and basically the only way to really connect was either to go to one of those new-fangled conventions or hang around with a local SF/F group. In those days it made a lot of sense to have an award that was voted on by attendees of a convention. There weren’t a lot of books to read back then (so the big ones tended to shine through) and the folks who were likely to vote were already going to be at Worldcon. But with the invention of the Internet, the Hugo Awards are a bit outdated these days. The problem is that folks who can’t attend the convention aren’t likely to spend $50 to be able to vote on a favorite book, and those at the convention either aren’t voting because they don’t care, or aren’t voting for the same books (or something of that nature). The thing is, the Hugo Awards are a fan-based award (primarily speaking). Why is it that most fans can’t vote? Now, granted, $50 isn’t a lot, but if you can’t go to Worldcon, it’s kind of a lot of money just to be able to cast a vote. And with the economy in crummy condition, do you honestly expect anyone to fork out $50 to get to vote for an award that largely means nothing to them? My suggestion on how to fix the Hugo Awards to make them more appealing is to change the entire structure to allow for folks who haven’t paid to vote. Sure, that might tick people off, but at the very least you could make it so the votes of Worldcon members are worth more than non-Worldcon members (like Locus). This would get more people involved who don’t have the money to become a member. We have to remember that one of the largest audiences of SF/F is not a bunch of old guys with steady jobs; it’s teenagers and college kids. We’re the ones consuming these books in large quantities (especially fantasy). How many teenagers do you know that are willing to fork out $50 to vote? I don’t know any. I wouldn’t have. I’d rather have spent that $50 on movies and crap that I didn’t need. The Hugo Awards, in my opinion, forget about these folks precisely because they are outdated. This needs to change so that the Hugos do more than be remembered as “some award,” but become something more fans actually care about. And that’s where my thoughts on the whole “awards are rubbish” thing come in: To me, none of the awards really matter at all. While I think they are wonderful for the authors and probably have a good impact on sales, I don’t necessarily care. A book with “Hugo Award Winner” on the cover is not likely to make me jump with joy to read it. I simply don’t buy or read books that way. I think of these awards along the same lines as the Oscars. They’re more symbolic than anything else. But that’s me and I am in no way the only opinion. There are those who think the awards are garbage and worth nothing. I disagree. I think many do pay attention to the awards when buying books (or at least notice them in a good way). I think the awards need to exist to congratulate good authors for good genre writing. But I get the point. For folks who really don’t care, who hate the politics behind it, etc. awards really are valueless. That’s just the way it is. I also understand Adam Roberts’ point about SF/F awards having too much focus on the fanbase. I think there need to be more significant awards that don’t take fan-voting into account, but judging. This might sound screwed up, ignoring the opinions of fans, but fans tend to latch onto the same kinds of books and don’t always move outside of that comfort zone. The awards aren’t really about that; they’re about the best works in the genre. That has to be emphasized more. The Hugo is great for being a fan-voted award, but we need more judge-voted awards out there to make sure that none of the greats that folks might not have read or ignored for some reason slip through the cracks. What do you think about all this? If you liked this post, please stumble it, digg it, etc.
Literary Snobbery (Part Two): To Participate or To Consume
To hinge off yesterday’s post, I’d like to talk about a few more of the arguments presented here. Last time I talked about this idea of “artistic expression” and how, generally speaking, it’s a load of crap to assume that one form of literature is artistic and the other isn’t. This time it has more to do with the issue of the supposed differences between “literature” and “pulps,” a distinction that Roby made. Roby begins this topic with this bit of nonsense: …there is a very large difference between participating in a dialogue through the written word and consuming a product designed to make you feel good. They are, really, fundamentally, completely different things that share superficial similarities. It’s all just reading, right? Wrong. When you read literature, you are a participant; when you read pulps, you are a consumer. An example is probably in order. No, not really. There used to be this difference before the invention of the printing press, but the way literature is consumed and produced these days has little to do with the delusional fantasy of being in “dialogue” with the written word. All literature, with the exception of that which is not put into book format and shipped out for us to buy in the store, is a consumable commodity. Literary fiction doesn’t get an out simply because it has flowery prose. We consume literary fiction in much the same way as pulp fiction: by reading it. There is no difference except in how we read it. This nonsense about being a participant in reading literature and a consumer in reading pulps is absurd. Since publishers produce based on profit, there is a necessity for all published work, including literary fiction, to be a commodity and, thus, consumable. A publisher doesn’t intentionally put out drivel; the publisher, producing any form of literature, is in this to make a profit; that’s their purpose. You may be a participant and a consumer, but you don’t get to pick and choose unless you get all your books for free and the person that gave it to you didn’t pay for it, and so on and so on. Since we pay in some fashion for books, we are consumers of them. And basing this critique on how one feels after having read a work of fiction is somewhat contradictory. The work he considers to be pulp do not always produce this “feel good” emotion. Literature produces all sorts of emotional connections. Plus, if you consider that human beings are not all the same, our emotional reactions are poor indicators of literary quality precisely because there would be little to no consensus on the matter. Someone might feel quite good reading a literary novel about apartheid, or someone might feel like crap–and, likewise, someone may take joy in reading something literary, or may find it dull and meaningless. What is shared, however, is the joy in the reading experience, which isn’t the exclusive domain of pulp fiction, but the domain of all literature. But the absurdity doesn’t stop there. Roby has to give a good example of where fantasy has failed, pulling out George R. R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones from its dusty perch: When you read George R. R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones, you have a very different reading experience. Within the first page or so, you are assaulted with strange words and concepts, none of which are really explained…This is thrust at you without context, but if you are the sort of reader Martin expects you to be — adolescent, introspective, considering yourself to be a little smarter than most of your peers, and versed in medieval and fantasy tropes — you will figure out “for yourself” that the culture the character comes from marks time by the melting down of candles. And you can give yourself a little pat on the back for proving to yourself that you really are a smart fellow. So, essentially Roby doesn’t like GRRM primarily because the work, being a fantasy work and thus the domain of an imagined, non-existent world that you shouldn’t know much of anything about in the first place, attempts to make itself authentic in its presentation by having the characters count time by candlewidths and the like; and Roby perceives this as a deliberate attempt on Martin’s part to make the reader feel proud of him or herself at having figured it out (but Roby is offended because, I guess, he sees this as patronizing). Well hold on a second. What did Roby expect? Did he think he would dig into this book about a place that doesn’t exist and find familiar references? This is equivalent of someone from the U.S. reading a book from a country he just found out existed and then expecting it to reference American pop culture (and then being disappointed when it, in fact, stays true to its cultural roots). When you read work set in a place you’ve never been and know very little about, there is always a lack of context, even if it is literary fiction. I certainly know little about Nigeria, and if I were to read a fiction novel written by someone from there who remained culturally true, I certainly wouldn’t be upset that I had to figure out some of the references on my own. And I wouldn’t see it as a patronizing moment on the part of the author that I had figured it out. To add, I suspect that Roby is not that well read in the fantasy genre, which explains his dislike for GRRM. One should really attempt to understand the roots of the genre if one is going to take it so seriously. And to top it all off, there is this from Roby (speaking about fiction like GRRM’s A Game of Thrones): If that wasn’t enough of an insult on its own, this sort of bad pulp works by coopting the tropes of actual literature that preceded