As a reader, writer and teacher of Science Fiction, I sometimes envy other genres. They are so easy to define. If you have a murder, you must have a mystery. If you have two hearts beating as one, you have romance. And if there are unicorns, you've got fantasy.
Yes, I know: it isn't really that simple. The reader on the prowl for murder and mayhem has a satisfying variety of narrative angles and octane-ratings to choose from: hard-boiled, procedural, psychological, cozy, noir. In recent times, Fantasy — like SF — has been busily re-inventing itself for the contemporary world, and a sophisticated contemporary audience: unicorns, elves and wizards vie with vampires, golems and spirit guides; fantasy readers can find the other-worldly experiences they are looking for in edgy modern alternatives, like Urban Magic and the New Weird. And Romance, I am sure, has its own versions of all of the above.
But even as I recognize that other genres may have their own special interests, their own splinter groups, I still believe that Science Fiction is even more fractured than most popular genres: Hard SF, Cyberpunk, Slipstream, Pulp, Gothic, TechnoThriller, Fabulation, Steampunk, Speculative, New Wave, Space Opera, Golden Age. Those who ought to know can't even agree on a base-line definition of the genre: the web site Definitions of Science Fiction (http://www.panix.com/~gokce/sf_defn.html), compiled by Neyir Cenk Gökçe, had catalogued 52 definitions duking it out for supremacy when it was last updated in 1996.
For readers and Readers' Advisors alike, SF can seem like a minefield. Hard SF — all sleek rockets and what Robert A. Heinlein called "…legitimate — and often very tightly reasoned — speculation about the possibilities of the real world (Ray Guns and Spaceships, 1981)" — sneers at the New Wave of the 60s and 70s for being soft, too character-driven and unscientific. Authors of "Speculative Fiction" (such as Margaret Atwood of The Handmaid's Tale) refuse to be bracketed with the simplistic, un-literary stuff they dismissively call "scifi." And some of the very latest sub-genres, such as Slipstream and The Mundane, seem so different from anything that has gone before, that it may be a struggle to identify them as "science fiction" at all. All of these labels, and all of these definitions, can be bewildering for the uninitiated, and for the fan who is reluctant to stray outside his or her comfort zone. As an instructor, or as a Readers' Advisor, how can you help?
I have some suggestions. They are based on my own experience as an SF reader, based on my work with undergraduates at The Ohio State University, and based on my experience of putting together ReadAlike Lists for the Science Fiction volume of the Libraries Unlimited Author Research series.
Don't dismiss the Grand Masters (or Mistresses) of the Genre.
A writer like Robert A. Heinlein was doing his best work between 1939 and about 1970. Judith Berman, SF writer and critic, in her 2001 essay "Science Fiction without the Future" (New York Review of Science Fiction, May 2001), asks
If SF is truly a vital, evolving field, why should readers under thirty know or care who Robert Heinlein is?
It makes sense: there probably aren't too many young people out there with Frank Sinatra or Bing Crosby on their iPods. It's hard to interest your average undergraduate in classic movies that were made more than a few years ago. (But … it's black & white …) Should we be forcing the SF equivalent of Sinatra and Crosby on the innocent youth of today? Aren't "dinosaurs" like Robert A. Heinlein, Arthur C. Clarke, Isaac Asimov — even Ursula Le Guin, whose classic The Left Hand of Darkness was published in 1969 — outdated and out of touch with the experience of young readers?
Well, no. In my experience, nothing could be further from the truth: if one of my students is keen on science fiction, then he or she probably has a favorite "dinosaur," and a much-thumbed, much loved copy of, say, Stranger in a Strange Land or Childhood's End, tucked under his or her arm. If one of my students has discovered SF for the first time, it's often because someone (Parent? Friend? Librarian?) has recommended Ursula Le Guin or the Foundation series. And - although I wouldn't dare suggest that he is a dinosaur! — Orson Scott Card's novel Ender's Game, and the subsequent novels in that series, have a unique and seemingly timeless place in the hearts of young SF readers, both newcomers to the genre and confirmed fans. Certain SF writers, certain works, have unique staying power: not only do they transcend sub-genres, and narrative fashions, but they can help define the kind of SF reader you are, providing a portal to other writers, and other works. My personal favorites, among classic SF authors with staying power? Well, in addition to the authors mentioned above, it must be James Tiptree, Jr (the nom de plume of writer Alice Sheldon) whose stories, told in edgy, proto-punk style, are timeless narratives about the alien in all of us. And British author, Brian Aldiss, whose 1958 novel Non-Stop (known as Starship in the USA) was the first SF novel I ever read - an apt start to a long, happy relationship with SF.
The labels may change, but the story is just what you were looking for.
Do you (or your reader) like Space Opera? Galactic sagas of political intrigue and individual heroism? Swashbuckling military SF that makes a serious attempt to transfer the experience of fighting men and women to the broader canvas of space?
You're in luck, because SF may change, and SF writers may re-invent the genre for a new readership, but certain narratives - time travel, sagas of Galactic Empires, Military SF, dystopias and utopias - are so powerful, and offer such narrative potential that, the modern edge given to them by contemporary authors only serves to make them more attractive to even the purist of SF readers.
The resurgence in recent years of Hard SF and Space Opera, Galactic Sagas and Military SF means that these classic sub-genres have been given a new lease on life, a new injection of style and attitude. For example, Alastair Reynolds, a British author who, like Sir Arthur C. Clarke and Isaac Asimov before him, has professional expertise in physics and astronomy, writes Hard SF: classic good science, but with a modern edge of moral ambiguity. C.J. Cherryh, like authors of the Golden Age such as Poul Anderson, constructs narratives on the galactic scale, which are nevertheless tempered with great realism, depth and psychological insight. Iain M. Banks, another popular and well-regarded British author, writes entertaining and intelligent Space Opera, set against the backdrop of The Culture, a multi-species "post-scarcity" society, where limitless material wealth has made peace and comfort available to everyone - at a price. The Military SF of authors like Joe Haldeman, Elizabeth Moon, and David Weber feature battles and intrigue, with occasional serious reflections on the true cost of war, which is usually paid by soldiers whose loyalty and devotion are exploited by those they serve.
These classic SF scenarios have undergone a "sea change," as talented contemporary authors find a balance between the delights of the old-fashioned "big story," and the demands of modern themes and narrative sensibilities. And as "big stories," they can provide a bridge between the modern and the classic.
SF authors can also rise from the "Reading List Dead."
What is out of fashion today, may be back in vogue - or enjoy a "retro-revival" — tomorrow. There was a time when authors from the early era of Pulp Magazine SF, such as E.E. "Doc" Smith, Leigh Brackett and C.L. Moore, were dismissed as naive, un-scientific, over-heated, and melodramatic. Rediscovered by a new audience, today these authors are rebranded as refreshingly innocent, colorful, and boldly heroic. John Wyndham, author of novels such as The Day of the Triffids and The Midwych Cuckoos, was dismissed by New Wave critics of the 1960s and 1970s as the "master of the cozy catastrophe." But a new generation of readers sees in Wyndham's catastrophes modern parables about the fragility of life on this planet, with a strong subtext about humankind's responsibility for the environmental woes it has brought upon itself. Classic SF writers are wide open to re-interpretation by readers whose expectations of SF are different from critics of the past.
There are all sorts of futures out there.
One of the most satisfying comments I have received on the reading list for my Intro to Science Fiction class was, "I didn't know Science Fiction did that …"
Many readers who are new to SF are delighted to discover that SF isn't necessarily restricted to galaxies long ago and far away… that the future can begin today, five minutes from now. That what makes Science Fiction is not setting (Mars, Deep Space), or accessories (zap guns, spaceships), but the response that the story elicits in its readers, what author Bruce Sterling calls the "… kind of writing that simply makes you feel very strange, the way living in the late twentieth century makes you feel …" (SF Eye, July 1989).
SF is the genre that grew up asking the hard questions about what it means to be human, and how we adapt to a world of change. SF does feminism, and hard-core military adventure. SF does breezy humor, surreal absurdity and tightly plotted noir thrillers; SF can just as easily turn its sights inward, on the inner workings of the mind and the soul, as well as outward, on the farthest reaches of the Universe.
One of the best ways to avoid the limitations that the sub-genres of SF can set on a reader is to ask - what exactly do you want SF to do for you? If your reader is interested in "coming of age" stories (Orson Scott Card, Lois McMaster Bujold), in the environment (Kim Stanley Robinson, Frank Herbert), in the spiritual life (Mary Doria Russell, Madeleine L'Engle), in the mechanics of oppression, and the relationship between oppressor and oppressed (Octavia Butler, Thomas M. Disch), in the challenges of technology and the near future (Geoff Ryman, Cory Doctorow) or the explosion of artificial intelligence, and its possible ramifications (Vernor Vinge, William Gibson) then there is something out there for them.
Another definition, #53: In his ground-breaking 1956 volume of SF criticism, In Search of Wonder, influential critic and anthologist (and very witty SF writer) Damon Knight tried to snip the Gordian knot of defining Science Fiction by declaring (tongue firmly in cheek) that "… it means what we point to when we say it." There are numerous guides to science fiction, including titles in this publisher's Genreflecting Advisory series, and its electronic spin-off, Reader's Advisor Online. These tools are invaluable in keeping up on the various, evolving subgenres, as well as learning about the genre as a whole. For more of my personal favorites among classic and modern SF authors, and the sorts of connections that I make to lead readers from enjoyment of one author to discovery of another, you might want to check out the twenty-plus ReadAlike lists (including ReadAlike suggestions for authors such as Ursula K. Le Guin, John Wyndham and Iain M. Banks) in my upcoming Libraries Unlimited volume Science Fiction Authors: A Research Guide. But beyond that, what advice can we offer to die-hard fans and newcomers to the genre who say that they just love science fiction, and are burning to read more of the same — and they are all pointing at something different when they say it?
I say, experience a few of these authors, and get an idea of the options that are available — and you'll know what you want when you see it.
References
- Berman, Judith. "Science Fiction without the Future (2001)." In Speculations on Speculation. Edited by James Gunn and Matthew Candelaria. Lanham, MD: Scarecrow, 2005. 331-342.
- Gökçe, Neyir Cenk. Definitions of Science Fiction. May 25, 1996. NCG's Science Fiction Page. Last visited September 29, 2008. http://www.panix.com/~gokce/sf_defn.html.
- Heinlein, Robert A. "Ray Guns and Rocket Ships." In Expanded Universe, New York: Ace, 1981. 372-379. (Originally published by the Bulletin of the School Library Association of California, 1952.)
- Sterling, Bruce. "Cat Scan." SF Eye, July 1989.
MAURA HEAPHY is a Senior Lecturer at The Ohio State University, where she teaches fiction writing, business writing and Science Fiction. She is active in local Science Fiction Readers and Writers Groups, and is currently working on a Science Fiction novel, and has published many short stories including Douglas and the Flour Baby, which was produced as a short film by Light Industry Pictures of Liverpool (1997).