The Endgame

Despite receiving multiple recommendations from friends and family for years, I delayed reading Ender's Game until just last week. I really wish I'd taken their advice sooner.

Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card is one of those rare books that leaves a deep impression long after the reader turns the last page. While reading it I kept flashing back to my junior year of high school when I developed a voracious sci-fi habit. Back then I mostly turned to Frank Herbert, Timothy Zahn, and Kevin J. Anderson for a fix. I can't help thinking that Ender's Game would have found an honored place on my book shelf.

People who've read my work say it has noticeable Dune influences. I heartily concur. Herbert had the most enduring impact on my storytelling sensibilities during that formative period. I can only speculate about how Card's magnum opus might have shaped my adolescent view of science fiction.

That's not to say that it won't have an effect now. In the last fifteen years I've learned to consciously mine the works of better writers for new techniques. Card's additions to my literary arsenal remain to be seen, but I doubt they'll be negligible.

Have you read Ender's Game? Are you looking forward to (or dreading) the film version? Let us know.

Epistemic Closure in Genre Fiction

I've come across a number of articles noting a worrisome trend in contemporary science fiction and fantasy. A cursory glance at genre best-seller lists shows a slew of derivative, paint-by-numbers premises endlessly recycling the same stock characters. (Only Wool distinguishes itself from the rest of the list).

You might argue that it's always been this way. True, there's always been a market for schlock potboilers. But try to recall a book in the sci-fi or fantasy genres from the last ten years that could stand beside Cat's Cradle, The Lord of the Rings, or Dune. Reviewer hyperbole often claims that the Wheel of Time books or A Song of Ice and Fire meet this test, but despite their quality both series stand on the shoulders of giants.

Why does current genre fiction underachieve compared to its predecessors? Donald Maass identifies a vital element of standout fiction: that the author has strong convictions and makes those beliefs come through in the book's characters, conflict, and themes.

Contemporary sci-fi and fantasy authors seem to be lacking in this regard. John C. Wright has a thoughtful essay on how postmodern disillusionment with scientific progress is stifling imagination. Writing on the Orson Scott Card affair, Jim Bennett blames rigid political correctness for creating a publishing environment that excludes challenges to the popular zeitgeist.

Neither culprit alone seems to explain the dearth of challenging fiction. Taken together though, a clearer picture of genre fiction's current malaise emerges. Escapism is the point of genre fiction. Fantasy transports the reader to a world that is better because it is simpler--both technologically and morally. Science fiction flies us either to worlds made better by human ingenuity, or else destroyed by it. In either case, genre fiction must be able to instill hope for or fear of worlds different from ours. It must therefore go against the grain of dominant thought for best effect.

In contrast, most contemporary genre fiction (I don't say "modern" because current science fiction is decidedly postmodern) adheres to one of two tropes: either the self-congratulatory insistence that everything is just fine or utter despair at the current paradigm's inevitable demise.

If we look back to sci-fi's origins, it's plain to see how the genre took up the cautionary role once held by fairy tales. Great science fiction authors from Jules Verne to George Orwell used their stories to warn society against the possible excesses of its pet theories. Likewise, great fantasy enshrined traditional understandings in danger of being forgotten. That genre fiction has ceased to fulfill this function illustrates why it's being reduced to a flavor of the month clearinghouse.