Pack Up the Kit Bag?

Has Elvis left the building? Is it time to pack up and go home? Is SF dead?

Not that I want to pack up, but a recent article in LOCUS really got me thinking.

I was reading the interview with Barry N. Malzberg in the recent October issue. He was talking about how science fiction has changed over the last century. His comment was "Science fiction has so infiltrated the culture that you don't need it any more. If you look at it as a familiarization of science and engineering for the larger culture - which is exactly what Hugo Gernsback said he wanted - it succeeded beyond any limit of his ability to envision."

That really made me sit back. Part of the appeal of these funky little stories in the old pulp magazines was that they were describing a foreign culture. SF was a weird sub-group. Most people had no conception of the inner workings of science and technology, and were completely inexperienced in projecting this into the realm of possibility. Now it's everywhere. It's in the local paper, it's on the cable channels: popular science documentaries, science shows.

We used to play this game: Ask someone if they like speculative fiction (usually they say no). Then ask them to list their favourite top ten movies. Invariably they end up listing something that has quite significant speculative fiction elements. The point is that it is so familiar that it has become invisible.

SF - and what becomes noteworthy in the eyes of reviewers (or editors) - becomes highly experimental work that is actually a high-art interpretation of the genre itself. Being part of the 'scene' goes hand in hand with encyclopedic knowledge of the genre, because a good SF story is just not enough anymore. It needs to somehow redefine something that is actually dwindling to non-existence.

Then there is the issue of form. Reading that same LOCUS issue, which was discussing some of the history of pulp, it really struck me that at one point this was the new thing. Has this form of fiction completely lost its relevance in this new world?

My wife recently flew back to Brisbane from Adelaide. The flight had maybe 400 people on-board. Blocked by the trolley, she had to walk through almost the entire length of the flight to find an available toilet. On the way she scanned the people to see what they were up to. In every single row there was at least one laptop and at least one person playing games on an iPhone. These are forms of entertainment that simply did not exist when pulp made its appearance. Of all those people she passed, two were reading a book. Two!

OK. Here is my provocation. Is SF - and the form of fiction in general - dead? What do you think? Do we all need to apply our imagination to neat little iPhone games instead?

Breaking the Rules

I've recently been reading some of Fred Saberhagen's older novels. I find I really get sucked into them, particularly the Book of the Gods series, but I can't help but simultaneous reflect that he seems to be breaking the rules - or at least flying in the face of what most people would now tell you is 'good' writing or storytelling.

For a start his writing weaves between omniscient view point and first person, rather than staying in one PoV. And there is a lot of telling going on. A lot. I feel little direct connection with the character. For example In the Arms of Hercules, I find it hard to get into Hercules' skin at all (no pun intended - he is invulnerable to sharp-edged weapons). There is a vaguely stated aim of trying to talk to his father (Zeus), and when his family is killed there is a very good explanation of how it devastated him, yet I don't really *feel* it.

Despite all this, I just keep reading. Even though its insulated by a layer of passive storytelling, the witty banter and razor-sharp insight into human nature that comes across keeps me going.

Hercules lurches from one adventure to another without any real overall purpose at all, and yet I find its a page-turner for me. I can't seem to put my finger on why.

David Eddings wrote about his approach to writing in the forward of a book giving various snippets of background material on the Belgariad. Not that I'm that into David Eddings, but I am fascinated by these sorts of autobiographical insights -- its one of the things I love about Locus magazine and their regular features on authors. In the book Eddings talks about the '100 page ramble' that starts off his books. 'It takes me that long just to clear my throat'. Yet later he says that if you make it through the first 100 pages 'I've got you!' He puts this down to his use of mythic elements. Now I'm not sure that I buy this, since I don't get hooked into David Eddings -- too long winded and with not enough sense of character imperative for me. But is Saberhagen using this 'mythic element' approach?

What Saberhagen does convey well is the sense that its a story. His voice is very much the sort of voice of someone talking across the fire at night. Rambling a bit, maybe putting into their own reflections and insights into the story every now and then as asides.

It makes me wonder what really makes a page turner. JK Whatzername seems to break plenty of rules as well. At first glance you'd think any editor reading the series - particularly the later books - would send them straight back with a plea for intensive editing.

Anyone got any insights to share?