By Helen Marshall
Speculative  fiction is an in-between genre, or even an in-between set of genres.   Samuel R. Delaney in his paper at the MLA entitled "Some Presumptuous  Approaches to Science Fiction" drew attention to this when he tackled  the question: "Does science fiction work in the same way asother  literary categories of writing?" His reply?  "Science fiction works  differently from other written categories, particularly those categories  traditionally called literary.  It works the same way only in that,  like all categories of writing, it has its specific conventions, unique  focuses, areas of interest and excellence, as well as its own particular  ways of making sense out of language.  To ignore any of these  constitutes a major misreading—an obliviousness to the play of meanings  that makes up the SF text." 
 I take his point to be  not that speculative fiction (broadened out from science fiction) is  definitely different from the literary, but rather that it exists as its  own subset of literature with the weight of history behind it, the  establishment of a canon, the recognition of tropes and protocols as  well as the development of an associated language and logic. But how do  we come to a definition of speculative fiction?  The all-knowing,  all-erring website Wikipedia, claims speculative fiction as a "a fiction  genre speculating about worlds that are unlike the real world in  various important ways. In these contexts, it generally overlaps one or  more of the following: science fiction, fantasy fiction, horror fiction,  supernatural fiction, superhero fiction, utopian and dystopian fiction,  apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction, and alternate history."  The  definitions are hazier in other cases.  
 Wikipedia  reminds us too that speculative fiction is itself a term with its own  history and politics. Popularized in the 1960s and early 1970s by Judith  Merril and others involved in the field, it was deployed as a rejection  of pulp science fiction, often regarded as stodgy, irrelevant, cliched  and unambitious.  It can be connected with the New Wave movement whose  predecessors included Ray Bradbury, Theodore Sturgeon, Fritz Leiber,  Algis Budrys, and Alfred Beste.  New Wave writing was characterized by a  high degree of experimentation, both in form and in content, coupled  with a "literary" or artistic sensibility.    
 Today,  speculative fiction is used increasingly as a way to escape being  pigeonholed as a genre writer.  Harlan Ellison, for example, used it to  signal the literary and modernist direction of his work.  Peter Watts,  in his essay for OnSpec responds to what he sees as a Hierarchy  of Contempt that if defined according to the light spectrum ranges  between "sullen infrared" and "high-strung ultraviolet": "Down in the  red-light district, science fiction's own subspectrum runs from "soft"  to "hard", and it's generally acknowledged that the soft stuff at least  leaves the door open for something approaching Art—Lessing, Le Guin, the  New Wave stylists of the late sixties—while the hardcore types are too  caught up in chrome and circuitry to bother with character development  or actual literary technique."
 His essay, as vigorous  as it is polemical, places authors such as Margaret Atwood at the root  of the problem: "Atwood claims to write something entirely different:  speculative fiction, she calls it, the difference being that it is based  in rigorously-researched science, extrapolating real technological and  social trends into the future (as opposed to that escapist nonsense  about fictitious things like chemicals and rockets, presumably)."  It is  useful to remember that The Handmaid's Tale received the very  first Arthur C. Clarke Award for the best science fiction novel first  published in the United Kingdom during the previous year, in 1987. It  was also nominated for the 1986 Nebula Award, and the 1987 Prometheus  Award, both science fiction awards.  Atwood, however, insisted to The  Guardian that her works were speculative fiction, not science  fiction: "Science fiction has monsters as spaceships; speculative  fiction could really happen."  Since then, Atwood has elaborated her  position to The Guardian: "For me, the science fiction label  belongs on books with things in them that we can't yet do....  speculative fiction means a work that employs the means already to hand  and that takes place on Planet Earth", and said that science fictional  narratives give a writer the ability to explore themes in ways that  realistic fiction cannot."
 I don't seek to find a new  kind of opponent in Margaret Atwood.  It is useful to recognize that  genre writing incorporates a wide range of traditions and trends.  Some  authors seek to be literary, to offer social critiques, to use  literature as a vehicle of exploration.  Not all do.  To return to  Delaney's metaphor that science fiction is a "language," we must  remember that a language is merely a system that can be employed to  communicate.  As a famous Canadian, Marshall McLuhan claimed: "The  medium is the message."  It falls to practitioners of genre  writing--authors, editors, publisher--to determine to some extent what  the medium, that language, might be and what it might do for its  readers.
 With that in mind, I turn to Atwood's article  in The Guardian because it does identify precisely what  speculative stories might do:
· They can explore the  consequences of new and proposed technologies in graphic ways, by  showing them as fully operational. We've always been good at letting  cats out of bags and genies out of bottles, we just haven't been very  good at putting them back in again. These stories in their darker modes  are all versions of The Sorcerer's Apprentice: the apprentice  finds out how to make the magic salt-grinder produce salt, but he can't  turn it off.  
· They can explore the nature and limits  of what it means to be human in graphic ways, by pushing the envelope  as far as it will go.  
· They can explore the  relationship of man to the universe, an exploration that often takes us  in the direction of religion and can meld easily with mythology - an  exploration that can happen within the conventions of realism only  through conversations and soliloquies.  
· They can  explore proposed changes in social organisation, by showing what they  might actually be like for those living within them. Thus, the utopia  and the dystopia, which have proved over and over again that we have a  better idea about how to   make hell on earth than we do about how to  make heaven. The history of the 20th century, where a couple of  societies took a crack at utopia on a large scale and ended up with the  inferno, would bear this out. Think of Cambodia under Pol Pot.  
·  They can explore the realms of the imagination by taking us boldly  where no man has gone before. Thus the space ship, thus the inner space  of the hilarious film Fantastic Voyage, the one where Raquel Welch gets  miniaturised and shot through the blood stream in a submarine. Thus also  the cyberspace trips of William Gibson; and thus The Matrix, Part 1  - this last, by the way, an adventure romance with strong overtones of  Christian allegory, and therefore more closely related to The  Pilgrim's Progress than to Pride and Prejudice.  
Helen Marshall spends the majority of her time pursuing a  Ph. D.  in    Medieval Studies at the University of Toronto where she  gets to travel   across England to examine fourteenth-century  manuscripts. Her poetry has been published in a variety of magazines and  print sources. She currently works as an editor of dark fiction for  ChiZine Publications.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
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