~ for those of you coming to this post via the RBE interview, you must read from the beginning; you may skip the ending though – you’ve already read it. for those of you who read this and are interested in the rest, you can find the interview here ~
It has been said that all fiction is speculative by its very existence. While in essence true, I believe the triumvirate of fantasy, science fiction, and horror (and all their misbegotten sons and daughters, step-children, and foster kids), as the epitome of what speculative fiction is and can be, deserves all claim to the title. For the key, the very ingredient that most simultaneously appeals and repels those that love and those that hate spec fic, is its lack of a comfort zone. Security. Predictability. Knowability. The greater the degree of uncertainty – the less content both writer and reader are - the greater the speculative nature.
Exploring the everyday, the expected, the eternally empty . . . is not entertaining. It’s distracting. It’s daydreaming. It is a non-stimulating, non-threatening, non-invasive, mind-numbingly routine method of alleviation; just different enough from its readers’ own lives or experiences, perhaps even dreams, to allow them to briefly escape their humdrum existences. Yes, I said escape. Because whoever doesn’t allow themselves to escape while reading fiction shouldn’t waste their time with it. From contemporary thriller to slice-of-life to paranormal horror to romance to Western – if it’s fiction, it’s all escapism. This does not mean that education cannot occur. The reader who cannot or will not learn something, anything – about the world, life, human nature, self - reads only with one intention: to ignore.
Ignore their own life in a pursuit of freedom. Not just any freedom, though. Such readers seek freedom from responsibility and acknowledgment. For brief moments, they can flee their understanding of life as they know it: the dire 6 o’clock news, the dreary weather, the predictable water cooler conversation, the dreaded auto/house/medical bills, the deterioration of the world around them. Reading about another person’s life set in history or in contemporary everyday as they know it provides them only the illusion of disillusionment. Mental exercises that allow readers to briefly exchange their daily existences for imagined but entirely plausible others. Teases that such is not only possible but, most horribly, can be expected . . . making it certain . . . making it mundane. Escapism that does not prohibit learning but is ultimately nothing but buying temporary transference one page at a time.
Readers of the truly speculative fictions go into their reading without anticipating that the tale in their hand could be that of Joey-around-the-corner’s life. While the goal of the writer is to make believable as much as possible of the tale – both author and reader go into the relationship with the complete understanding that all is a lie. Convince me, the reader, that it is not, or possibly not, and you’ve hooked me. Make me feel your uncertainty, increase my uncertainty, and you’ve delivered speculative escapism that does teach or, at the very least, opens my eyes to my own susceptibility and desires.
In addition, each of the spec three offer emotional and intellectual incentives to pursue such escapism. Quite simply, horror evokes fear, immediate survival instinct, curiosity; science fiction stimulates the mind, future survival instinct, curiosity; fantasy creates wonder, current survival instinct, curiosity. Each genre pushes the boundaries of curiosity (and thus accomplishment) by testing humanity’s extremes. My preference is for fantasy. I am more in tune with and interested in the possibilities offered by the powers of magical forces and multitudes of gods while simultaneously being intrigued with and desirous of the elegant simplicity found in the struggle for survival that demands personal, face-to-face decision making and action taking.
Telling a tale of awe and adventure that can take author and reader alike beyond today’s dark headlines and gray clouds is desirable and admirable. Taking us beyond yesterday’s and tomorrow’s headlines and shadows leads to euphoria. I believe I have many such tales within me, tales that should be shared, for to hide them away and to keep them buried is shameful and unworthy. Yet my skills and capabilities do not match my wishes and hopes at this time. So I do something equally noble, equally important. I act midwife to those who can utter, act confidante to those who can dream, act intercessor to those who can write. I will do all in my meager power to deliver to readers the tales of imagination, the poetry of speculation if you will, that births and breathes within each storyteller of the fantastic.
What really drives me to create speculative fiction? Sharing hope and joy and opportunity. Relieving tedious ennui, bringing triumphant smiles, giving life to dreams and dreams to life.
Albert Einstein called imagination “[t]he gift of fantasy” and he claimed it meant more to him than his ability to learn. He said that,
“Imagination is more important than knowledge…. Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere.”
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Jason, thanks for letting us into your thoughts a little.
Though, back to the RBE questions, I was a little surprised you picked Erikson. Just a little. For some reason I figured Martin would be your pick, with Erikson a close second.
BTW, I did pick up “A Game of Thrones” recently. I’ll get to it after whittling down the to-be-read pile some more.
Martin and Erikson were tied as my faves at one point in time. Then the latter simply outshone the former.
While I do have a least favorite title in The Malazon Book of the Fallen, it is still a good story, a strong title, that (I’ll grudgingly admit) many other people consider one of the best. But the least of Erikson far outshines the least of Martin. Martin’s last title – the one split in twain with the promised second half still 4 years delayed – was drastically inferior to the first three in A Song of Fire and Ice. Time is on Erikson’s side as well; the regularity of delivery now trumps the inconsistency of today’s performances which have come to rely solely upon the glories of those of yesterday’s.
BUT, all that aside, A Game of Thrones is an awesome book, the best of the lot, a great beginning and setup, an almost-10 on my scale. The following two titles toe the line as well. But sheer scale of complexity and massiveness and, quite honestly, writing that is what I’ve said numerous times I wanted to be mine, delivered via a 10-tome series and numerous novellas of different timbre yet equally, if not even better, prose jumps, nay, hurdles, Erikson to the front.
I can trace the roots of everything that I have every enjoyed in any other story in The Malazan Book of the Fallen. Though they started off a tad rough, it’s the series for me.
I am sure you will enjoy Games though. I look forward to your review.
Like many others I was blown away by A Game of Thrones. But by the latter part of the sequel I was growing disenchanted with the pace and certain characters to the point I would skim through their chapters. Bran and Sansa for example. I began the third in the series out of loyalty, but gave up after three or four chapters. Regardless how good the writing was, the story itself just failed to interest me anymore.