For Part I of this series, see here.
But not everyone shares our eclectic preferences or polymath tendencies. For decades, the literary establishment considered Science Fiction writing to be little more than a lowbrow diversion suitable for children and the lower classes. The pre-pulp and pulp eras of the genre are probably the most illustrative of the times when that attitude was prevalent.
After WWII, however, the tide shifted and the stereotypical science fiction fan was a pimply male who was better in the classroom than on the playing fields of the world. Fans of SF clustered together and fandom–a pioneer that showed today’s myriad fan communities the way forward–was born. The fiction, of course, was still dismissed as something that was fine for teenage boys: you know, rocketships and robots and that sort of thing.
Both of these stereotypes over-generalized, of course. The literature being published in the pulps was often excellent… and the postwar fans were not all pimpled nerds. Having said that, there were arguments that upheld both of those assumptions, and no one was particularly concerned with debunking the prejudice except for SF fans themselves, and no one really cared what they thought.
In the sixties, those postwar teens had become adults, and deeply resented the ghettoization of their beloved genre. They set fingers to typewriters to prove that SF could be grown up as well, and proceeded to bombard the world with reams of mostly-forgotten prose (Dune being the major exception) that proved that the genre could do character-driven stories, stream-of-consciousness, literary sexuality, drug-addled confusion, angsty existentialism and pop psychology just as well as the literati of the day. It was the New Wave.
Luckily for the genre, that particular tendency soon died out and SF went back to its roots in the seventies. After the new wave, the genre was more mature and held a much higher profile (more thanks to Star Wars that anything the New Wave did for it), but it was still easily recognizable as the genre which had been born in the pulps and not some weird thing that Andy Warhol would have written had he been a writer.
The eighties, which we discussed here continued the pendular swing towards action-driven SF, but the pendulum swung back decisively in the nineties.
With a few honorable exceptions, the more visible genre is now dominated by character-driven, agenda-driven literary fiction, and is bitterly split roughly along political party lines in the US. At the risk of over-generalizing, Democrats seem to appreciate the high-quality writing of the genre the way it is, and are at the helm of many of the established magazines and also at least one of the major houses while Republicans find the current iteration of SF to be mind-numbingly dull and overly focused on politics over substance (this is the essence of the famous Sad Puppies schism). They are also the core audience of one of the publishing houses.
Other than the two we’ve mentioned, the rest of the houses don’t actually care about the color of the politics if they think they can sell the book, so there is more literary diversity on the bookshelves than in the magazine spectrum but, as the talent in SF is supposed to come up from the magazine world, even the big houses’ output does tend to skew a little to the left.
So why am I rehashing and oversimplifying the history of the SF genre? Easy, I’ve been catching up on my reading of Gardner Dozois’ Year’s Best Science Fiction Anthologies. Though I’m still a couple of years behind, I recently read #29 and #30.
A quick note for those new to the genre: Dozois, a former editor of Asimov’s is the current taste-maker of the SF genre. Vastly experienced, he is hugely respected in the field and can be essential in making (or ignoring) promising young writers. He specializes in the short form, which means that he can turn an obscure story in a mag into a famous piece just by including it and praising it in one of his anthologies.
Anyhow, Dozois’ taste has evolved over the years, perhaps matching, perhaps leading, the genre’s swing towards more literary sensibility and political activeness and less entertainment. The two or three Year’s Best books before #29 had been pretty dull and more concerned with diversity of voices than diversity of content, broken only by the occasional Alastair Reynolds tale (Reynolds is always high-concept fun and I honestly think he doesn’t care about politics at all… at least that’s the impression I get from his fiction).
And #29 was just another one of these. Kind of a slog. Some good stories and some great writing in there, but not enough to become a memorable collection. Sort of another grey monument to the “diversity” era of SF. The worst of it is that the individual stories are all generally good. The problem is that, when taken together, they put the problems of the genre into sharp focus. No one seems to want to deviate from the norm and after two dozen tales, it does get monotonous.
Number 30… gives me hope. There seemed to be less grey porridge in there, and a few more tales that march to their own drummer. Reynolds, of course, but also a brilliant one by Stephen Popkes. It just seemed… better than any of the prior ones, perhaps a sign that, after a couple of decades, the pendulum is swinging back towards the sense of wonder that has been lacking in the genre for so long. (or it might have been the fact that they re-used the cover art from Foundation and Earth, and this colored my thinking!)
Of course, this might just be a flash in the pan. Both of these came before the Puppies controversy. That ended with the establishment simply retrenching and covering up their ears, trying to yell louder than the opposition–as it does in every walk of life–and widening the gap. Time will tell if Dozois took the same line. Our review of the anthos from the next few years should answer that. Stay tuned!