On Reading the Classics (of the genre)

This post is a mildly belated response to two blog posts, to use the term very loosely, that I came across on the internet.

First is this collected stream of tweets by Jason Sanford, in which he turns his intense glare and self-satisfied smile upon people who lament the decline of science-fiction and fantasy. Someone had clearly really gotten Sanford's goat when he wrote this, considering he states his intent to have a t-shirt made reading 'Fuck your dead-ass boring Golden Age' which he can then wear to conventions.

Then there was this post by the inscrutably pseudonymous Fynbospress over at Mad Genius Club, in which she seems to argue that reading the classics of the genre is a necessity in order to write in said genre, lest you merely retread ground that was already well-trodden over by greater feet.

Now, this is the internet, so I wouldn't be bringing any of this up if I didn't disagree with both of them in at least some way, and so this post is just going to be my opinion, as a reader and as a writer, on the idea of genre classics and a canon of works that must be read by all who would consider themselves to be versed in that genre, let along write in it.

Now, at this point I should probably acknowledge the lamentable state of my own reading in what Fynbospress at least would probably consider to be the essential works of SFF. I don't consider myself to be a science fiction reader, and I confess that Heinlein, Clarke, Asimov and Smith are all completely unknown to me. But, on the other hand, so are Leckie... yeah, the fact that I can't even think of three other modern science fiction authors should be enough to convince you all that when it comes to Science Fiction/Fantasy, I'm pretty much exclusively on the Fantasy side.

So, having established that it is in the swords rather than the space ships that my interest lies, how do I do in the fantastical sphere? Not too much better really. I've read Tolkien, but so has everyone else. I've also read Lewis, but I'm not sure how much anyone would really consider him a classic of the genre; certainly he's not had the level of influence of Tolkien or Howard (whom I've not read), and the only author to really follow in his footsteps has been Philip Pullman, who followed in said footsteps mainly so he could urinate in each and every footprint as he walked by. I made a start on Moorcock, who is only barred from classic status presently by the fact that he hasn't died yet, but wasn't able to get through the core Elric stories before the relentless nihilism ground me down. On the other hand when it comes to Mary Shelley, Edgar Rice Burroughs or Bram Stoker, to take the three authors named by Fynbospress, I have as little of them as I have Latin.

I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that I just don't like second hand books (I don't like they way they frequently, I don't like the way they frequently smell, and I especially don't like the way they often haven't been looked after, with crinkly, folded covers that make me want to hit someone with a hardcover dictionary. The only second hand books I've really got on with came from my late grandfather, who had taken care of them), though having admitted the shocking state of my ignorance I should probably look for some e-versions of some of this stuff. Part of it doubtless has to do with the fact that my parents were neither of them genre readers and growing up the only non-Tolkien, non-Lewis fantasy in the house was Terry Brooks. But whatever the reason, things are as they are and I am lamentably ill-versed in the canon of my favourite genre.

It might be supposed then, being so ill-versed, so basely read, so coarse, so vulgar, so practically unlettered and lacking in the lore and storied history that make up this fair elfland where we dwell, that I might take vociferously the side of Sanford, and pour forth fire-breathing denunciations of Fynbospress and all those like her, and cast aspersions not only on the need to read the classics, but also on their very quality.

Well...not really.

I said that this post would deal with the question from both a reader's and a writer's point of view. To begin with the perspective of a reader, because from this angle the question is very easily dealt with: read what you like.

I find it mildly strange the Fynbospress begins her post, in which she declares the necessity of reading certain things, by bringing up a man on a train reading Treasure Island, and scorning the idea that we might mock or scorn him for his choice. I couldn't agree more, Treasure Island is still rollicking good fun now, and remains so even as one grows older (and try Kidnapped, if you haven't already, as it's quite possibly even better).

If only, having demonstrated such an enlightened attitude towards the man on the train, Fynbospress could have found it in her heart to show the same spirit of tolerance towards those who don't particularly want to read Edgar Rice Burroughs.

That said, at least Fynbospress does not display the vulgar indignation exhibited by Sanford and his accomplices Walter and the appropriately named Wastrel as they loose their cannons on all those who would dare to prefer the ancient stalwarts of our field over the young bucks who strut the plains today:

"I'm tired of genre fans who create & read nothing new or exciting & complain today's SF/F they isn't as good as during the damn golden age.

Maybe I should create a Tshirt which says "Fuck your dead-ass boring Golden Age" and wear it at conventions. "

This attitude, expressed in a manner quite inappropriate to a man of letters, illustrates one of the more detestable plagues to have infested the modern discourse surrounding literature: the extent to which personal taste is taken as an arbiter of virtue or moral failing. Like Heinlein? Congratulations, you're a misogynist. Enjoy Ancillary Justice? Over there with the other insane feminists. We have taken the idea that you can learn about someone from the contents of their bookshelf to the extent of thinking we can use it to judge someone's character and I can't help but find it ridiculous.

I read for pleasure. I don't read to have my views and opinions on the world challenged by someone who doesn't know me, and is quite likely writing in a different country to my own. I am open to a writer changing my views on something (reading some of Macaulay's essays did that most recently) but it isn't why I pick up a book in the first place.

The fact that some people read to have their views challenged or their minds broadened is their own business, so stop trying to make it mine or implying that I am a lesser person for not making the same choice.

That ended up being a little longer than I had expected, and it is high time to move on to the writing side of things, I think.

When it comes to writing, the argument that Fynbospress puts forward is a simple one: you need to read the classics of the genre in which you are writing, so that you can tell what has been done and what has not.

Now, my first objection to this is that taken to its logical conclusion this means that you would have to read every single word ever written in the genre of your choice before you were so much as allowed to type a single word (presumably with some black-clad agent of the SFWA standing over your shoulder, ensuring that no author gets left behind without another royalty cheque courtesy of an aspiring newbie). But even if we accept that it is more important that I know where Robert E Howard drove his plough than Robert E Keller, there is still an issue with the basic premise.

Fynbospress summarises her position thus:

"Kris Rusch has also noted how many young writers she’s run into who are completely ignorant of the many, many female authors who’ve been in science fiction and fantasy since the start. Among other reasons, many of their works have gone out of print, and the new writers coming in may not have read the old magazines, or picked up the older, dated-artwork books at the used bookstores. So they really, truly, may not know that their groundbreaking new take has been done to death thirty years before they came on the scene, or that they’re trying to reinvent a wheel that has not only been invented, it’s evolved to all-wheel drive with traction control."

This, it seems to me, is not an issue with writing. If you create a wheel, it doesn't really matter if someone else did it first, even if they did it first thousands of years ago. You've still made a wheel. You still put your sweat into it, poured your heart into it, left a piece of yourself inside it. Who cares if it looks like the wheel on a Volkswagen Golf? It still rolls along the ground just fine.

The problem comes not from creating the wheel but from then deciding to strut up and down like a bantam cock thrusting your wheel into the face of everyone you come across and saying 'Lo! For I have brought fort a wheel, and it is awesome!' and bragging about what a great thing you've done and aren't you just the greatest thing since sliced bread for having come up with such a thing. Then, when it turns out that the wheel was invented thousands of years ago and you just didn't realise until now, then yes you probably should have checked first to avoid looking like a prat, and you deserve all the mockery that will be heaped upon you.

But that isn't a reason to read the canon of the genre, unless you happen to be the kind of person who absolutely cannot restrain themselves from puffing out your chest, and thus must be extra vigilant about what you do before you brag about it. No, that is an argument against running your mouth and having a big ego.

There's a joke to be made here, I'm sure, but I'll leave it to someone else to make it.

If you want to write a series of short stories about a barbarian with muscular hews wandering across a savage land, then go for it, by all means. Write the story that resounds with you. Just check through the archives before you tell anyone that nobody has ever written anything like it before.

In conclusion: Read what you want, write what you want but for the love of all that’s good don’t pretend to some kind of moral superiority based on your artistic taste.