By Laura McCarthy.
As both a writer and a reader, I am finding the lack of recognition for big concept horror, fantasy, and science-fiction of late to be depressing. And when I mention these genres, I am referring to narratives which fully embody ambitious, large concepts; so not just a realistic science-fiction which is about an astronaut in space (though, of course, there is a place for these) but narratives like that of VandeMeer’s Annihilation or Le Guin’s The Left Hand of Darkness.
Le Guin, though she really should have, never won a Pulitzer Prize for her science-fiction. She was a finalist in 1997 for her short story collection Unlocking The Air. What is important to note about this is that Le Guin commented: ‘recently I have published two collections of science-fiction stories. The stories in Unlocking the Air aren’t science fiction; they belong variously to plain realism’. Not only did she not win, she also was not recognised by the mainstream for her sci-fi expertise. She was only recognised when she brought in these elements of realism.
But realism isn’t everything.
Take Terry Pratchett, for example, known for his outstanding fantasy series which takes place in Discworld. His books are beloved by many, full of absurdity, satire, humour, and the outright fantastical. Pratchett has sold over 85 million books worldwide and was the biggest selling British author of the 90s. Pratchett was knighted, given an OBE in 1998, and awarded honorary degrees (from ten different universities, including one in South Australia), but only ever won sci-fi and children’s book awards. Like Le Guin, he didn’t get the literary book award recognition he so clearly deserved.
Horror, in particular, is really my genre. My favourite novels of all time include The Shining, Let The Right One In, The Silence of the Lambs, and Rebecca, and I enjoy experimenting with horror in my own short stories. Despite many iconic classics such as Frankenstein and The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde being staples of British culture, and despite the fact that horror is pushing creative boundaries in cinema right now (consider films like Bring Her Back or 28 Years Later), there is an overwhelming sense that horror is being ignored in many literary circles, with the tamer label of ‘thriller’ being seen as the more sophisticated and acceptable preference.
Recently, Waterstones announced that Lucy Steeds has won their Debut Fiction Prize for her novel The Artist. It is clear that Steeds is a talented writer and I am not here to take that win away from her, but I do question whether Waterstones selected a truly diverse collection of novels when it comes to genre. All the nominees were rather grounded books. Sure, they were certainly creative or exciting or expressive, such as the novel Sunstruck (my review of which you can see here ). Not a single choice could be called a true, large concept horror, science-fiction, or fantasy novel though.
And it’s not like writers aren’t creating vast concept work like this. One stand-out example from recent years is Thomas D. Lee’s debut Perilous Times, in which Arthurian knights return to the modern world. Lee knows his stuff when it comes to mythology, that much is obvious, and he expertly weaves in elements of science-fiction and satire to create something which is wholly fresh. It is speculative and serious, whilst also balancing humour and fun. The writing style and descriptions also demonstrate the skill of a blossoming writer. Importantly, the novel is also reflective of current issues as diverse as Brexit, climate change, LGBTQ+, and end-point capitalism. This has everything a prize winner needs: it is beautifully written, grounded in literary heritage, and explores current concerns. It was a Sunday Times Bestseller and won the Fantasy Hive Debut of the Year Award, but where is the mainstream recognition?
Arguably, iconography which is central to our culture mostly emerges from horror, science-fiction, and fantasy, more so than literary fiction. Think: Big Brother is watching you, living in the matrix, or going down the rabbit hole.
So, why do these genres keep being slighted? I don’t think I have the answer… but the rage I feel is justified and tenable. This literary snobbery is outdated, especially in a world where people are reading less (in the UK, more than a third of adults have given up reading for pleasure). Perhaps people would be reading more if we could uplift writers across genres, appealing to a wider range of tastes. We need to see a change and we need to take writers more seriously, recognising them for their craft across genres.
- In Common is not for profit. We rely on donations from readers to keep the site running. Could you help to support us for as little as 25p a week? Please help us to carry on offering independent grass roots media. Visit: https://www.patreon.com/incommonsoton