dht@druri.UUCP (Davis Tucker) (09/20/85)
THE PROBLEMS OF SCIENCE FICTION TODAY
PART X: A Prescription For The Future
by Davis Tucker
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Yes, science fiction has problems. Everything does. Some are serious, some are
trivial, albeit irritating (such as my pet peeve about stupid puns, especially
in titles). The past nine installments didn't even scratch the surface, but
I hope that at the very least they stirred some serious thinking about whether
or not these problems can be solved, or if they are problems at all. No one
who is interested in science fiction should accept complacency, or begin to
pat himself or herself on the back for a genre well done. It's very easy to
get in a rut, and very difficult to get out of one. But a valid point can
be raised against these essays, that they have been soley concerned with illum-
inating the problems of science fiction, not with possible remedies. The ques-
tion remains - "What must be done"?
We gain nothing in moving forward by extolling our virtues. We must eradicate
our faults and our weaknesses, ruthlessly, or we must accept them and live
with them. Ignoring the problems that are in science fiction, or acting as
if they're strengths, will only lead to further degradation of the field.
Close your eyes and imagine bookshelves of Hobbits and rayguns and magic
swords and slave wenches and computer nerds and one-dimensional personalities.
Imagine Robert Asprin (or whomever you would like to substitute) as the
guiding light for fantasy writers of the 21st century, and Spider Robinson
as the new Isaac Asimov (okay, it *is* a step up, but not much). In other
words, take a moment to extrapolate the field of science fiction, which
spends so much of its energy on extrapolation. What will science fiction
be like in twenty-five years? Will it even exist? What form will it take,
and how can we influence that form now, so that it will improve?
Even the most diehard Star Trek fan will agree that the genre could stand
some improvement. But what is that improvement to be? Some would have the
field move strictly back to its roots, to the Great Idea and hard science
and predictions. Others would have it move into the mind and the surreal,
become experimental in all ways, and cast off the chains of its past. Both
are doctrinaire and dogmatic. What is important, most important to the
continued survival and flourishing of science fiction is that the quality
of the writing improve. Good writing can be about anything; great writing
could probably be about nothing - not that this is necessarily admirable
or desirable. Hoary plot devices must be discarded, wherever they occur.
Bad dialogue needs to be weeded out with napalm. Overused characters need
to be put out to pasture, right, Gandalf? A breath of fresh air is needed,
in the sense that the field has become too resistant to experimentation,
especially by new authors. Old authors need to draw on their familiarity
with the genre to branch out; if anyone has leeway to experiment and expand
his or her literary horizons, it's an established writer. Science fiction
has an amazing resiliency with this sort of thing. Heinlein, for all his
faults, went out on a limb with "Stranger In A Strange Land" and it paid
off. Silverberg's renascence with "Majipoor Chronicles" and "Lord Valentine's
Castle" is another example. Gene Wolfe, though he still is a "new" author,
surprised everyone with the popularity of "The Book Of The New Sun". The
readership of science fiction, fans and casual readers, need to consciously
try out something different now and then, or they will ignore the greatness
that is at the very heart of the concept of science fiction, the willingness
to experiment and attempt more than seems possible. There was a time in the
field, in the late Sixties, during the days of the New Wave, when discovering
a new author, a new way of writing, and a new slant was very important to many
readers. Now, unfortunately, it seems that too many are satisfied with sequels
and trilogies and fluff-filled fantasy by formula authors. Quality of writing
*seems* to be running a distand third behind predictable characters and fast-
moving plots.
Great writing, quality writing, does not mean fancy sentences and big words
and heavy symbolism. Writing is not an end in itself, and neither is it merely
a means of telling a story. Quality writing means attention to details like
plot twists and avoiding loose ends, characters who live and breathe and talk
like they were people, not cartoon characters. Real people don't expostulate
for pages, like Jubal Harshaw or Lazarus Long, and real people aren't arche-
typical heroes and villains. Quality writing means both a simultaneous ability
to make the reader totally forget he is reading, if he chooses, or to allow
him to realize how much the act of reading is working on his experience. The
basics of building believable human beings and believable situations and in-
tricate plots and detailed societies have been around for years, and are well
defined and understood by most authors, be they science fiction or mainstream.
James Clavell worked just as hard to make "Shogun" believable as Herbert did
with "Dune". Motivation, of a society or an individual or a destiny, requires
some kind of internal consistency, unless the novel is one that is deliberate-
ly inconsistent, such as some of Robert Sheckley's or R. A. Lafferty's work,
or much meta-fiction. Plot resolution also requires care and especially in
science fiction, that the author avoid the many cheap devices that science
fiction's imaginative freedom has strewn in his path to entice him from the
straight and narrow road of correct and consistent plotting. Quality is *not*
that elusive, it is not unattainable by even a merely competent writer; we
do not ask that all books written be "Heart Of Darkness". It *is* work, and
it *is* personal pride, and it is always easier to go half-way than the whole
distance, in writing as in any effort. But the extra work required yields a
much more satisfactory result.
I'm not saying that every science fiction novel should be like "The Book Of
The New Sun". But the quality that is so apparent in that work should be
a goal for every science fiction novel. Sensitivity to subject matter and
a refusal to take the easy out in a plot situation should be encouraged.
Puns should be outlawed for ten years until the next James Joyce appears
and decides he wants to write science fiction. As a concrete suggestion,
I think more works by South American surrealist authors, of whom there
are many, should be published in science fiction magazines and by science
fiction publishing houses - and don't condemn it as boring literature,
or highbrow, because much of it is exuberant, interesting, and well-written.
Hard science fiction needs to take a long look at its traditional insensitivity
to its characters and its dialogue. Exposition, so necessary to science fiction,
needs to become better integrated into story lines. It gets tiring to read
page after page of characters talking at each other, explaining their society
or some wonderful concept or marvelous invention. The sort of thing Gardner
Dozois called "The Great Steam Grommet Works Of The Future Travelog", where
the reader gets a guided tour of the marvelous future. These sorts of things can
be revealed during the course of the story, in subtle and less obtrusive ways.
Science fiction could use a better understanding of its symbolism, of the
ideas and metaphors which are being manipulated to provide resonance and
meaning beyond what is written. The field needs to indulge in that great
imaginative sweep that is afforded it, like no other genre, that freedom
to say and do and create anything. No other literary field can send a man
back in time to confront his father, no other field can turn a man into a
machine, no other field can destroy planets and minds and entire global
societies. These situations are wrought with frightening symbolic implications,
deep psychological conflicts, and incredible mythic resonances. They are
filled with enormous potential for exciting new directions (as cliched as
that phrase is, in science fiction). Mining and exploring the vast reaches
of the genre's freedom of expression will require effort, and discipline,
and willingness to experiment, much more so than science fiction has done
in its past.
I love science fiction. We all do, I think. And we want to see it improve,
and expand, and capture more readers, and pay its authors more money, and
to mature and grow up from its beginnings without ignoring its past. If I
have been harsh on its failings, it is only because of the hope I hold for
its awesome potential as literature. I myself would like to see a time
when science fiction is no longer considered merely a "genre", but a large
part of the literary scene, as biographies and spy novels are considered
now. When the field becomes viable for any and every writer who chooses
to write science fiction, when the definition of what is and is not science
fiction is of clinical and critical unimportance. There is no field in
Western literature which can afford as much freedom and imagination and
room for great writing as science fiction. There is no artform today
which has so much unexplored potential, not music, not art, not photography.
I honestly believe that science fiction stands poised at a very important
crossroads in its development, a point at which its popular appeal has
risen to new heights, where it is finally gaining some grudging acceptance
in academic circles, and where it is finally reaching that stage of maturity
from which great art in any artform can arise. Events in art and literature
often move at a snail's pace for years, and then there will be a sudden,
intense flowering of genius. I think science fiction is on the brink of
that heady precipice of greatness, and I want nothing more than for it
to leap over it unafraid and with all the necessary skills to maintain
itself as viable and popular. Remember that no artform can remain static
and survive, and even if it moves in some direction, that not all of those
directions will guarantee any survival. Poetry used to be widely read and
published and appreciated, as little as 50 years ago, but it is fast becoming,
unfortunately, a dead artform for a number of reasons. It may still resurrect
itself, but the lesson is clear. Classical music is hardly being composed at
all anymore - you could count on one hand the number of new composers with
a substantial body of work being performed by orchestras around the world.
Science fiction *can* survive, I think it *must* survive, but it needs to
take a long, hard look at its accepted tenets and its preconceptions and
re-evaluate its role. And with luck and hard work it can become much, much
more than what it is today.
I think we all have enjoyed the discussions that have been spawned by these
essays, from substantial insights into the nature of artistic appreciation
to spleen-venting, from impassioned, reasoned defenses of favorite works to
investigations of the author-reader relationship, from agreements and disagree-
ments to the consensus that is sometime reached. I hope no one has found
these essays offensive, once the dust settled, and I hope no one thinks that
I have no respect for his or her opinion, for all that I may have disagreed
with it. It's been fun.