Question: What happens when laser pistols are everywhere?
The question is actually more complicated than the title suggests. It reads as follows: In a science fiction world where guns can be made of deadly lasers, pew pew pew, that you’d have to move at the speed of light to avoid, would there be a need for guns? I mean, if you got mad at someone and whipped out your laser gun, they could be dead before they heard the gun go off, sonic boom style. So… why guns? I take as the underlying assumption here that such guns use realistic laser technology and not the sort of thing we see in science fiction from practically everything written in the 30s, 40s, and 50s to Star Wars to even the absolutely gorgeous trailer for the film adaptation of David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas. In other words, lasers that likely make less noise than contemporary guns, have beams that shoot at the speed of light (or close to it), and so on. Real laser weapons would actually present a lot of challenges for humankind. Here I must express minor disagreement with Kathlyn Hawley about the impacts of such technology. Laser technology would be limited by a number of factors, the most important of which are: 1) power supply, and 2) beam strength. It is unlikely, for example, that we will have developed a power source capable of making beam weapons with the strength to blast through ship hulls and so on. People certainly wouldn’t be a problem, but I find it hard to believe that we will have solved the power gap in the next 100 years (though I could be wrong). From that perspective alone, we likely won’t use beam weapons. They will cost too much money and take up too much space and power. It’s easier to detonate a bunch of modified explosives against the hull of an enemy ship or over enemy personal than it is to charge and maintain lasers with the same general effect. The same will likely remain true for hand held weaponry, such as rifles and pistols. In a far future setting, it’s possible we could make the weapons light enough to warrant using as assault weapons, but even then, you’re dealing with a weapon that will run out of charge mighty fast. Even if you loaded up a mechanically augmented soldier (in a kind of exoskeleton), you’d have encumbered that soldier with a power supply that could be just as dangerous as the weapon itself. There’s a reason why we still don’t load up soldiers with excessive amounts of protective gear: they become slow and easy targets. Tanks and other kinds of vehicles serve the function of massive fire power, yet here we run into the same problem as before: where do you put the power supply and is it worth it when you can solve the problem with modified nuclear shells that leave no radiation behind (we’ll probably figure out how to suck the radiation out or neutralize it, thus making nuclear warfare a standard model). For me, lasers are just another of those science fiction concepts that you either accept or reject. Like FTL. Like millions of species of aliens that look vaguely human. Like so many tropes of the genre that violate all manner of scientific “rules.” Because if we’re going to be realistic about future weaponry, I doubt lasers are going to be useful for much more than stopping other weapons from doing their job. We might see lasers used to take down planes, but since combat ships in space will have considerable amounts of shielding to combat radiation, I don’t see these as being applicable except to take down missiles and other explosive devices. We should be more concerned about the kinds of weapons we already have. Future advances will make such things more deadly and easier to use. And that will make for an interesting future. Now it’s your turn. What do you think? Do you disagree with me or Kathryn? If so, why? The comments are yours! (Question suggested by Kathlyn Hawley on Google+.)
Question: Why does fantasy default to pseudo-medieval?
It’s an obsession. The contemporary fantasy genre has been making sweet, soft, dirty love to vaguely medieval Western cultures for almost a century now. You can tell because the two have made so many degenerate babies that the bookshelves are full with them. Some of them are more degenerate than others, taking those medieval Western cultures as mere background rather than as setting. Others are clearly the product of a well-managed, passionate marriage (or other applicable union). Joking aside, the reason for the clinging behavior of fantasy has more to do with the heritage of colonialism than it does with anything else. The last 400 years of empires, scientific racism, hierarchical anthropology, and so on have created a deep link within our conscious and subconscious minds that privileges the West. At some point in our cultural history, we started calling some “ancient cultures” by a new name: “primitive.” Thus, Rome became the pinnacle of the West, despite also being an “ancient culture,” and all those non-Western cultures, from Africa to Asia to the Americas, became “primitive.” “Primitive” ceased to mean “old, dead culture” and came to mean “unsophisticated, lesser culture.” Note the problematic distinction made between these terms. How can an equally ancient culture be “superior” to other ancient cultures? What makes them superior? A hard question to answer. Some would suggest that the West appeared superior because it rapidly advanced while the rest of the world seemed stuck “in the past.” There’s not enough space to deal with such a questionable argument here, except to say that there might be good reasons for why some cultures did not “progress” the same way as others. In contemporary anthropology, however, “primitive” represents the earlier forms of Homo Sapiens sapiens. The Cro Magnon. The first cultures. Rudimentary. But the wider culture has yet to catch on to this usage. Instead, anything “not West” is “primitive” and, therefore, “other.” That stems from centuries of imperial rhetoric and Western superiority (a complex, really). Our culture is a product of being told we are special, and that everyone else strives to be like us, to take from us the modes of progress, and so on. The “primitive cultures” were simply “on their way to being advanced, Western ones.” From that perspective, it shouldn’t be hard to imagine why the pseudo-medieval setting is the one that dominates fantasy, a generic tradition that began in the West and unfortunately remains there (with some exceptions). For all people in the West, the medieval period is the only medieval reference we can call “ours.” This despite the fact that many people in the West have links to other cultures (often intimate links). While these exceptions certainly value non-Western cultures, they are up against a wall which tells them “our history [the West’s] is most important, and so you should write analogues of it.” We are starting to see a serious push against this history. The “other” is creeping its way into the dominant discourse of the West, supplanting its authority to remind us that culture is mostly relative. It’s a slow, drawn out process, just as imperialism and its cultural parasitism took decades to build and decades to tear down. That’s the way it goes, though. When you build an immense hegemonic system of oppression, control, and assimilation, you can’t expect tomorrow to be full of sun when we’ve only just started pulling its ropes on the horizon. At least we have an explanation for the obsession, though. And having that knowledge might be useful some day. What do you all think? Which recent fantasy novels have you read that don’t include Western settings? I immediately think of work by N. K. Jemisin, Nalo Hopkinson, and Karen Lord. Things I haven’t read included Saladin Ahmed’s Throne of the Crescent Moon, the numerous Philippine SF/F anthologies that Charles A. Tan reminds us about, and a number of interesting works mentioned on the World SF blog (are Lavie Tidhar’s fantasy novels set elsewhere?). Let me know of some others. We could make a wicked list of fantasy set somewhere other than the West! (Question provied by Mike Reeves-McMillan on Google+)
Gritty Fantasy: Why Do I Love It So?
Today’s post is based on a question from Dirk Reul: What is it that people find fascinating about gritty fantasy compared to the classic story types like The Hero’s Journey? As I noted when the question was asked, I can only talk about this topic from my personal perspective. Sadly, the radiation from Japan’s nuclear power plan problems has yet to give me the ability to read the minds of everyone on the planet. I’m as upset about it as you (admit it, you wanted to get super powers too). First, to definitions, just so we’re clear what we mean (or I mean) by “gritty fantasy.” George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire is gritty fantasy. J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and successor works are the classic “hero’s journey” stories. The difference between the two isn’t so much the lack of a quest, but rather a rejection on the part of gritty fantasy of romantic notions about medieval societies. In classic fantasy, death is glory; in gritty fantasy, death is horrible, costly, and deeply personal for the characters. There may be overlap, but I think the absolutism is essential. For the purposes of this post, I will focus specifically on A Song of Ice and Fire (books one and two, which I will refer to as GRRM to save space and my fingers). Expect a few spoilers. As much as I enjoy glorious tales of heroic quests, the gritty realism of GRRM and related works does something else for me: it gives me a sense of insecurity. I know the hero will survive in classic fantasy tales. But I don’t know that is true in something like GRRM, because characters are routinely killed or abused by other characters. Take, for example, Eddard Stark. He is set up as our main hero in A Game of Thrones. We come to love him, flaws and all, and to care deeply for his cause and for his family. But he dies at the end of the book, betrayed by the very people he hoped would help him save the kingdom. It doesn’t get any better for the Starks after that. Sansa is kept hostage by the sadistic King Joffrey; Winterfell and the Starks are betrayed by Theon Greyjoy, their ward, and the city burned to the ground; Arya is forced to skulk through an increasingly dangerous terrain, at first pretending to be a boy; and Catelyn, Eddard’s wife, must watch as her son, Robb, makes war, worried that her two daughters will be killed by the Lannisters (Joffrey at the head), and that her son(s) will die. There is nothing safe about this situation; for me, it produces a sense of compelling dread, because anyone could get hurt at any moment. Likewise, gritty fantasy gives me the violence that is almost always absent from classic fantasy. As much as I love The Lord of the Rings, it is a narrative that, in my mind, finds a kind of honor and glory in war. When I read Tolkien-derivative works, I expect this dynamic, and even enjoy it. Romanticizing war creates an emotional connection to the moment that is two parts hope, one part fear. One of the scenes that makes me cry in the film adaptation of LOTR is the moment when the Riders of Rohan appear on the hilltop looking over the fields of Pelennor, ready to ride into certain death. I love this scene because it is so human. It’s about sacrifice for honor, something I think we’ve lost in this world because we don’t seem to understand what it is that soldiers do — our honoring of soldiers is somewhat empty. But gritty fantasy tends to avoid these glorifications. War is terror. It is blood and mud and guts and death. It is a sea of despair. People die, and they don’t die well, because there is no good death in battle. And death outside of war is equally without glory. Disease. Starvation. Murder. All of it working in conjunction to make a medieval world that feels lived in, rather than ideologically constructed (utopian). GRRM does this remarkably well, taking the piss out of those moments when we expect honor and glory to drive men and women to victory. Instead, they tend to fall, often to dishonorable men. Wars are sacrifice, but whatever glory can be found there is bittersweet. Take the first battles at the end of A Game of Thrones. In one such battle, a small contingent of soldiers is sent to meet Tywin Lannister’s host, but only to distract him while the greater force heads out to take the armies of Tywin’s son, Jaime, and free Riverrun. A lot of people die. But there is no moment of glory for them. There are no beautiful horns chiming in harmony. Whatever stories are told are glorifications, but the narrative itself never gives us that glory (in fact, the battle is show from Tyrion Lannister’s perspective, a mangled dwarf who has never served in battle, let alone been trained for it). Those are two reasons I enjoy gritty fantasy. What do you think? Do you agree? Or are there other things that draw you to gritty fantasy?
What Are You Reading? Inquiring Minds Want to Know
In the interest of giving all of you the floor to talk about books, I’d like to know what you all are reading and what you think of it (anything counts, from articles to audiobooks). I am currently smack dab in the middle of the following: Down the Mysterly River by Bill Willingham (and Mark Buckingham) Loving it! The Uncertain Places by Lisa Goldstein Interesting, but I need to get deeper before I can make a valid judgment. Gateways edited by Elizabeth Anne Hull Some really smart stories in here! Future Media edited by Rick Wilbur Just started! When the Great Days Come by Gardner Dozois So far: loving it! Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation by Louise Pratt Just started! But I’ve read it before, and it’s an interesting text. Maps of Englishness by Simon Gikandi Just started! The English in the West Indies by Froude (can’t remember the the first name) Just started! The Portable Harlem Renaissance Reader Just started! The New Negro: Voices of the Harlem Renaissance Just started! I also finished a few short stories by Mary Robinette Kowal (“Clockwork Chickadee” and For Want of a Nail — the latter won the Hugo and is quite good). And yes, I realize that is a lot of reading. I’m a grad student. So sue me… So what are you reading?
An Anthology Idea: Science Fiction and Fantasy Stories About Homophobia
In the last twenty-four hours, I have been having a very interesting discussion with Fabio Ferndandes, Charles Tan, and others on the subject of homophobia and science fiction. Our talk stems from a post I wrote a few days ago on that very subject and has sparked serious consideration of queer-related anthologies (at the time of this post, many were discussing the possibility of a queer military SF anthology, of which I would love to be a part). I suggested early on that it would be interesting to see an anthology of SF/F stories which deal with homophobia. A number of people thought that was a good idea too, and so I am writing this post as a way to further test the waters (and have something concrete on “paper”). The anthology would obviously serve a social/political purpose: to help spread knowledge about the issue of homophobia, discrimination against LGBT people, and so on within the SF/F community. How could it not have a purpose if it is on that very subject? I think an anthology dealing directly with these issues would have an impact on the SF/F community (and, perhaps, outside of it). In terms of the actual theme, it has occurred to me that diversity in content is essential. Nobody wants to read a collection in which every story is about a gay man or gay woman being treated like garbage by heterosexuals. Such stories are important and would be welcome, but I think it’s also important to explore the boundaries of political engagement for LGBT people in a variety of settings, extrapolative (science fiction) or imagined (fantasy). This might mean looking at how LGBT people navigate heteronormative cultures in future settings (dystopian or optimistic) or medieval worlds, but it might also mean delving into the finer points of civil rights arguments, religion and dogma, and so forth, whether through direct engagement or clever uses of allegory and metaphor. In a way, I think the topic should be focused on the struggle of LGBT life in SF/F settings rather than specifically on homophobia. In my opinion, it is just as crucial to find good stories as it is to find stories that shy away from blatant point-making (i.e., message stories). Homophobia plays a role in a variety of situations beyond the most obvious, and I would like to see stories that play with these more subtle boundaries suggested above. The last thing I want to cover is the issue of genre. I like the idea of an anthology of science fiction and fantasy stories, but I wonder how loosely we should take those genres and whether it is a good idea to keep the two together. Would it be more effective to have an anthology of SF stories on this topic? Should the term “SF” be taken loosely? Should fantasy be taken loosely too (so as to include literary forms such as magical realism)? My initial tweets kept to the SF/F merger, but I wonder if that would post problems for editorial cohesion. Then again, because of the specificity of the theme, narrowing the genre even further could pose serious problems for acquiring good work. Maybe I’m worrying over nothing. I’ll leave the rest of the discussion to others. I don’t want to overload this idea with too much of my own opinions, preferences, and so forth. With that in mind, here are a few questions to consider: Would you be interested in an anthology on this subject? What would you change? Who would edit it? I have some experience editing, but not for something of this scale or specificity (or so I think). Who would like to contribute, and who should one ask to contribute (i.e., who would be a good writer to consider approaching)? How would such an anthology be run? Suggestions have been made about putting the anthology on a website, with an ebook version sold through Smashwords. Are there any serious publishers who would be a good fit for the anthology? Or should the project, if it were to be put together, stay in the indie realm? Would authors be paid? If so, how would we acquire the funds to do so? Kickstarter? Would proceeds go to a related charity, the authors, or the “publishers?” What would we call the anthology? Something tells me “Homophobia X: An SF/F Anthology of LGBT Stories” would not be appealing to readers. I am open to any ideas, suggestions, and thoughts that you might have. If you could also spread the word, that would be great. I’d love to get as many opinions as possible on this idea. Anywho!
What Genre Books Are You Looking Forward To?
The title pretty much says it all. I want to know which science fiction, fantasy, horror, crime, mystery, etc. books you’re looking forward to, whether coming this month, the first quarter of 2011, or at any point in the next year. Let me know in the comments. Or, if you like, you can respond to the tweet I left on Twitter.