Unapologetically Genre
Mark Twain has often been attributed as having said, “I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.” It seems that every member of the Story Week panel entitled “Genre Bending—The Faces of Fiction” can make the same boast. Mort Castle, Maggie Estep, and David Morrell are all unapologetically writers of genre fiction, in the categories of horror, mystery, and thriller, respectively, and Kevin Nance, while not a creative writer himself but, rather, a contributing editor at Poets & Writers, preserved his childhood love of comic books, Lord of the Rings, science fiction, and mystery, even though, as he puts it in tonight’s discussion, “When I went to college, I learned that everything I thought I knew about writing was wrong.”
Like Nance, I, too, grew up blissfully unaware of the distinctions regularly made between “high brow” and “low brow” literature. Those who taught in the low-income neighborhoods where I was raised would have been happy to see us reading just about anything. It wasn’t until I took an education course at the college level that I heard teachers and future teachers debating about whether or not teenagers should be allowed to read genre fiction or even young adult fiction in their classes. Many believed in a strict adherence to the “classics” and were particularly averse to popular series books such as Harry Potter, Cirque du Freak, Twilight, and Midnighters. Even The Hobbit was called into question, a book that, according to Nance, is a “gateway drug for a lot of boys.” Quoting Ron Hansen, Castle says, “As a writer, my job is to educate and entertain, and I cannot educate if I don’t entertain.” Shouldn’t the same be true of teachers? Why, then, would many of them want to deny this kind of drug to their students?
David Morrell offers a somewhat surprising answer to this question. While some may argue that genre fiction is denigrated because it’s poorly written, or plot-driven, or formulaic, or calculating, or commercial, Morrell says it’s because we Americans are a bunch of Calvinists at heart. When he describes the deeply-ingrained American belief that “if we enjoy ourselves, it’s wrong,” I am reminded of H.L. Mencken’s definition of Puritanism as “the haunting fear that someone, somewhere, may be happy.” (After the event, I would wonder whether or not writers and critics in other countries shared our attitudes towards genre fiction. Any thoughts on this, dear readers???)
Although, as Joe Meno, the event’s moderator, mentions in his opening statements, the American literary establishment was “rending its garments” in reaction to the news that Stephen King had been awarded the National Book Award in 2003, and thereby joined the ranks of John Updike, Arthur Miller, Toni Morrison, and Philip Roth, it seems that the tide is turning in favor of genre fiction. In “Invasion of the Genre Snatchers,” an article originally published in Poets & Writers, Nance says, “Aspects of detective and crime novels, thrillers, science fiction and fantasy, horror, westerns, comics, and other subgenres are increasingly showing up in variously transmogrified forms, with and without quotation marks, in works of literary fiction.” Among the writers he cites as examples are Michael Chabon, Jonathan Lethem, Cormac McCarthy, and Joyce Carol Oates. If what Morrell says about Calvinist sensibilities being at the root of our distaste for popular literature is true, then maybe we’re having a collective religious awakening of sorts.
No one on the panel suggests that there isn’t bad writing out there, or that a lot of it isn’t genre, per se. Morrell even goes so far as to name names (David Baldacci). But he and his fellow panelists seem to agree that what distinguishes a good story from a bad one has nothing to do with genre and almost everything to do with honesty. (Almost.) They all warn against “chasing the market” as opposed to being true to your own voice and vision. Meno says “follow your curiosity” like it’s something he’s repeated a million times in the classroom. And Castle advises each of the aspiring writers in the audience to “be a first-rate version of yourself and not a second-rate version of someone else.” It’s advice well worth heeding, both in fiction writing and in life.
EVENT: GENRE BENDING-THE FACES OF FICTION PANEL DISCUSSION | WEDNESDAY, MARCH 17, 2010 AT 2:30PM | HAROLD WASHINGTON LIBRARY | AN EVENT OF COLUMBIA COLLEGE CHICAGO’S STORY WEEK FESTIVAL OF WRITERS
Honesty in writing as in life is always valued, but isn’t there something to be said for craftsmanship? Consider all the writers from Doyle to Asimov who felt they were doing hackwork (Doyle being so tired of Sherlock Holmes that he killed him off) yet through pure skill managed to turn out one minor masterpiece after another.
1That’s why I said “almost.” And then wrote “almost” again in parenthesis. Good writing has “almost everything to do with honesty.” I agree that craftsmanship has a lot to do with it, too.
2Thanks. I feel better. I have done some “hackwork,” chiefly journalism, of which I’m a bit proud. Hey, we can’t all be creative writers like the novelists!
3At this point, you know what I think of the distinction drawn between genre fiction and “serious literature.” For those who don’t know, it’s simple: 1) “mainstream” is just another genre; 2) quality is where you find it, and not bound by your preconceptions.
There are writers writing fantasy and science fiction today whose work can stand up to any “serious” writer out there. I can name names, but I won’t take up your space: there are master stylists in the field who hit all the big themes and do them justice. (Oddly surrealistic note: I first ran across Jonathan Lethem as a science-fiction writer. A couple of years ago, he began scripting the revived “Omega” comic series. There are people, I guess, who think he’s a “serious” writer who dabbles, when it’s really that he’s a serious writer period.)
Can we say “honesty and craft”? Both of which can develop over time. (I’m thinking of one writer whose work I know well; it’s always been good, but her last five novels have been beautiful and harrowing. They’re art, pure and simple, with all that implies.)
And now I’m going to stop before I write my own post in your comments section.
4Oh, and about writers in other countries sharing our attitudes about genre fiction: from what I’ve read of non-English literature, I doubt it. There’s a strong element of fantasy in Latin American literature, although lit professors prefer to call it “magical realism” (which is the same term they began applying to Samuel R. Delany’s Dhalgren so they didn’t have to admit it was science fiction). I just finished The Dreams, a collection of short pieces by Naguib Mahfouz that are unclassifiable. I seem to remember the same element of the fantastic in some works of Eastern European literature (20th century, that is). I suspect the same blurring is present in contemporary Japanese literature, but I can’t speak with any authority there.
I’m not sure that writers in other languages even recognize the concept of “genre.”
5It didn’t occur to me until reading your posts, Hunter, that the panelists at this event used the term “literary” instead of “mainstream.” Maybe it’s a small thing, but I wonder if the very language of the debate is contributing to negative perceptions of so-called genre in the English-speaking world.
Thanks for your comments!
6I don’t doubt for a moment that “literary” has become a term of opprobrium for those areas of literature it tries to exclude, while “mainstream” implies an overarching relevance that is purportedly lacking in “genre” fiction. (Interestingly enough, all it takes is the addition of quotes to turn “literary” into an insult.)
I see it as a combination of the sometimes awkward legacy of the Great Age of Classification, which is a habit we don’t seem to be able to lose very easily (perhaps it’s hard-wired to some extent) and a certain amount of academic arrogance. It leads to false distinctions.
If you look at the history of literature from its beginnings, what is The Epic of Gilgamesh? Literary fiction or fantasy? How about the Arthurian romances of Chretien de Troyes — they were certainly mainstream for the time, and very literary by the standards of the day. Das Nibelungenlied? Written down in the 15th century by one of the foremost poets of the day. How about The Scottish Play? (Or just about any play from Aeschylus to Shakespeare, for that matter.) Supernatural thriller? What about something like the Vedas, or the Old Testament histories (which, in keeping with the conventions of historiography of that period, are as much fiction as anything)?
If we take genre fiction as an area that maintains certain conventions (which, of course, vary from genre to genre) and uses certain tropes as part of the story formula (and there is nothing intrinsically wrong with “formula,” especially if you consider, with Joseph W. Campbell, that there is, ultimately, one story, of which all others are fragments), then someone is going to have to come up with a stunning argument to convince me that “mainstream” or “literary” fiction (take your pick) is something more than just another genre. The disesteem displayed toward genre starts from a kind of snobbery based firmly in ignorance. There are highly entertaining stories of professors tapped to teach classes in science fiction and fantasy who had no idea of what books were essential to understanding the development of the field and were considered classics.
Ach! You’ve got me started again.
7Actually, Das Nibelungenlied, the German version of the Volsungasaga, is probably the best possible example of false distinctions. It is, of course, considered a classic in academic circles, perhaps the prime example of late medieval German literature.
It also includes a magic ring that gives its wearer great power; a broken sword that must be reforged by the hero, who grows up in anonymity; a dragon, dwarves, and sundry other legendary creatures; a fiery mountain; etc., etc., etc.
Does this ring any bells with fans of modern heroic fantasy? And does it have anything to do with 19th century naturalism?
(And a thought that just occurred to me: so-called “literary” or “mainstream” fiction merely partakes of a particular style of narrative. That’s the main thing that separates it as a category from other genres — which in turn have adopted the realistic narrative as a style because that is the favored mode these days — as literacy has spread, that seems to be what most readers can connect with most easily — and in the area of literature of the fantastic, it gives more punch to the fantastic elements.)
8Thanks again for your comments, Hunter. You have clearly given both the stylistic and political distinctions between genre fiction and mainstream fiction a great deal of thought.
9I”ve been a reviewer for better than twenty years and as such, have had my nose rubbed frequently and with great vigor in the realty of the mutual interdependence of vernacular and high art. It’s inescapable, and it’s not limited to one medium.
Academics develop some useful tools; they are, however, only useful tools, not natural laws. (Nor is quality particularly respectful toward academia.)
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