belated Eaton SF conference comments
I just realized I never posted anything about this year's Eaton Conference. So, here it is.
Like last year, a lovely assortment of writers and academics, many of whom embody both professions in one. Fewer editors and scientists, however--felt more academically focused overall, perhaps because the topic was more literary (Jules Verne and fantastic voyages). The main theme that I took away was a worrying one about the state of science fiction [warning: lengthy rant to follow]: namely, that SF is dead and/or dying.
This view was espoused pretty continuously for all four days, by people from Greg Benford to John Rieder, and several others. As far as I can tell, the argument rests on two main prongs:
1) a sense of millenial or other exhaustion. SF as a genre, especially American SF, was built on a framework of hope and optimism ("We're totally GOING to the MOON! We're gonna build a BETTER FUTURE! And maybe sleep with some ALIEN WOMEN!"); these days, that culture of optimism seems to have faded. Nothing to do with the practical scenarios themselves (come on, you didn't really think science fiction was predictive, did you?) but with the mindset that inspires imagined possibilities. These days, we're faced with the idea that maybe humanity isn't that great after all, and maybe we're all screwed, and there will be no starships for any of us. This, as a side note, helps promote fantasy as a genre (as does prong #2, about which more later): fantasy doesn't have to rationalize itself, or explain why the world can work out well in unicorns and happy endings. Fantasy can be a truly alternate realm; SF is always to some degree a literature about possibilities for humanity, and maybe, the argument goes, those are fading away. Which leads to point #2.
2)At heart, SF is a literature about change. About the possibility for change, good or bad, in human society. The problem is that today's society exists in a permanent state of change, technological and otherwise, and it happens at a dizzying pace. It becomes difficult to keep up, let alone imagine NEW forms of change that haven't even been concieved of yet. Today's new writers don't want to write SF: it can't compete with their lives. Instead, frequently (and I wish I could recall who made this point during discussion), they turn to fantasy, especially epic fantasy. Fantasy is stable. Take the Lord of the Rings. Despite internal strife, the world endures. It has history, continuity. Appendices. Take Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar series, or Terry Brooks' Shannara series, or Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time saga: the characters change, but the stories don't. They're familiar. Audiences get what they expect. (I'm not picking on any of these three writers; I enjoy them all and have many shelves full of their books. Merely pointing out a genre difference.) So, fantasy becomes the escape that SF can no longer offer.
I kind of want to argue these points, but...I...really can't. (If anyone else can, please!) On the other hand, I would say in response: so what? So we give up? How defeatist! Rather than concede the death of a genre we love, why not try to change the future? Why not fight that trend of apathy and disillusionment--if we're complaining about a loss of imagination, sit down and try to imagine something that might fill the void. Science fiction means speculating about change; shouldn't we speculate?
Let's take these things as a challenge instead of an elegy.
Like last year, a lovely assortment of writers and academics, many of whom embody both professions in one. Fewer editors and scientists, however--felt more academically focused overall, perhaps because the topic was more literary (Jules Verne and fantastic voyages). The main theme that I took away was a worrying one about the state of science fiction [warning: lengthy rant to follow]: namely, that SF is dead and/or dying.
This view was espoused pretty continuously for all four days, by people from Greg Benford to John Rieder, and several others. As far as I can tell, the argument rests on two main prongs:
1) a sense of millenial or other exhaustion. SF as a genre, especially American SF, was built on a framework of hope and optimism ("We're totally GOING to the MOON! We're gonna build a BETTER FUTURE! And maybe sleep with some ALIEN WOMEN!"); these days, that culture of optimism seems to have faded. Nothing to do with the practical scenarios themselves (come on, you didn't really think science fiction was predictive, did you?) but with the mindset that inspires imagined possibilities. These days, we're faced with the idea that maybe humanity isn't that great after all, and maybe we're all screwed, and there will be no starships for any of us. This, as a side note, helps promote fantasy as a genre (as does prong #2, about which more later): fantasy doesn't have to rationalize itself, or explain why the world can work out well in unicorns and happy endings. Fantasy can be a truly alternate realm; SF is always to some degree a literature about possibilities for humanity, and maybe, the argument goes, those are fading away. Which leads to point #2.
2)At heart, SF is a literature about change. About the possibility for change, good or bad, in human society. The problem is that today's society exists in a permanent state of change, technological and otherwise, and it happens at a dizzying pace. It becomes difficult to keep up, let alone imagine NEW forms of change that haven't even been concieved of yet. Today's new writers don't want to write SF: it can't compete with their lives. Instead, frequently (and I wish I could recall who made this point during discussion), they turn to fantasy, especially epic fantasy. Fantasy is stable. Take the Lord of the Rings. Despite internal strife, the world endures. It has history, continuity. Appendices. Take Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar series, or Terry Brooks' Shannara series, or Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time saga: the characters change, but the stories don't. They're familiar. Audiences get what they expect. (I'm not picking on any of these three writers; I enjoy them all and have many shelves full of their books. Merely pointing out a genre difference.) So, fantasy becomes the escape that SF can no longer offer.
I kind of want to argue these points, but...I...really can't. (If anyone else can, please!) On the other hand, I would say in response: so what? So we give up? How defeatist! Rather than concede the death of a genre we love, why not try to change the future? Why not fight that trend of apathy and disillusionment--if we're complaining about a loss of imagination, sit down and try to imagine something that might fill the void. Science fiction means speculating about change; shouldn't we speculate?
Let's take these things as a challenge instead of an elegy.