Science Fiction

The Last Frontier in Art

It’s no secret that we like art here.  For our readers entertainment, Classically Educated has visited museums, discussed modernist movements and generally illustrated our posts with art that strikes our fancy.

It’s also no secret that we believe space is where humanity’s eyes should be focused, and that any argument for “fixing Earth first” can only seriously be expressed by people who combine shortsightedness with an appalling lack of imagination.  Nothing in the world denotes a person with limited intellectual faculties than someone who believes that money should be removed from space exploration because there are poor people right here who need our help.

So, a combination of two things we feel passionate about should be an incredible journey, right?

The Art of Space by Ron Miller

Well, in the case of The Art of Space by Ron Miller, I have to admit to mixed feelings, although this is more due to my own prejudice than any failing of the book.

The problem is twofold.  In the first place, I was brought up on book covers and illustrated space books as a child and, to a lesser degree, the covers of the pulps.  This was the kind of art I was expecting to find in page after page of this book.

Secondly, I like to gaze at space art as an escape, not necessarily to study technique or see what fine artists were doing in the genre.  This book is much more a history of the evolution of the different types of space painting (painting of planets, space vehicles, etc.) than a gallery of images intended to create a sense of wonder.

Does it have wonderful images in it?  Yes.  Covers as well, of course.  But this is a book perhaps left to the person who studies art for art’s sake who, for some reason is looking at space as a subject.  As an art aficionado, I clearly have a huge blind spot when it comes to what I want from space art.

I can’t seem to leave my populist inclinations aside in this particular genre (so much for my supposedly unassailable elitism) and seem to prefer the garish fascination of pulp to the much more refined visions in this book.

Oh, well.  Nobody’s perfect.  If you can get past that, this is a really good book.

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine novelist and short story writer whose novel Incursion has the most garish cover of any of his books.  Ironically, he’d asked for something more subdued and was overruled by his publisher.

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Beyond Revelation Space

Diamond Dogs, Turquoise Days By Alastair reynolds

Alastair Reynolds is probably the most important writer to enter the SFF genre in the past 20 years or so, certainly the most important to be writing pure SF.  His Revelation Space series reminded everyone of why we like reading SF in the first place.  While others are beating us over the head with their politics, abuse of the English language and fears of the coming eco-apocalypse–and winning awards for that drivel–Reynolds built up a far-flung, plausible future extrapolated from the humanity and technology of today and told an entertaining story therein.

So yeah, Revelation Space earned its solid sales, and the writer’s multi-million pound advance was equally well deserved.

But what happens when you move beyond that?  Let’s have a look, using two of Reynolds’ lesser-known books to illustrate the point (as you’re probably aware, we really like doing these exercises).

Diamond Dogs, Turquoise Days is not a novel.  It’s a collection of two novellas stuck together in one volume, and must be analyzed as such.

It starts off beautifully.  “Diamond Dogs” is pure Reynolds: two humans grappling with an almost unimaginable tech challenge.  On the grand scheme of things, the story might seem like a low-stakes problem, but one increasingly gets the feeling that something important is going on there.  Exciting and interesting.

“Turquoise Days”, on the other hand, is not quite as good.  I think this one tried too hard to pander to what passes for “respectable” SF these days and, for that reason, doesn’t quite reach Reynolds’ usual standards of excellence.  It’s not bad, it just sinks into the quagmire of he current sameness and utter lack of a sense of wonder overrunning the genre.  It also has Solaris envy.

Century Rain by Alastair Reynolds

Century Rain is a very different kettle of fish.  It’s a hugely imaginative, high-concept parallel world / alternate history detective story.  It is conceptually brilliant and a daring change of pace from a man whose strengths lie elsewhere.  The story is somewhat clunky in places but, just like Revelation Space itself, it all comes together seamlessly–and satisfyingly–in the end.

So, what to do?  Well, if you’ve never read any of his work, you absolutely have to start with Revelation Space.  If you haven’t however, I would say that “Diamond Dogs” is a good introduction, but an even better one would be any of his short works.  “Zima Blue” is, in my opinion, the best SF short I’ve read published after the year 1990 by a long margin, and most of the rest of his stories are amazing as well, if, usually much darker than “Zima Blue”.

If you get the impression that the batch above is something of a mixed bag, you’d be right.  Other than “Diamond Dogs”, these two books are best left to the fans.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine writer whose novel Siege, though nowhere near as well known, explores many of the same issues as Revelation Space.

Somewhat Scholarly Reflections on Science Fiction – Part 4

As you probably realized by the mere existance of this series, I love going back into the past of he genre and looking at the short fiction of the past.  Of course, the actual subject matter is dictated by my strict first-in-first-out reading order which, by making things even more random and eclectic aparently jives with our manifesto.

This time, we travel back to the sixties, and if we’re talking about short fiction in the sixties, one name towers above the rest: Judith Merril, the decades great anthologist.

By great, of course, I mean the most influential and trend-setting as opposed to the best.  I’ve gone on record more than once in saying that her attempts to turn science fiction into a bastion of literary experimentation aligned with the pop consciousness of the era were misguided.  She isn’t well-rememberedtoday outside of the students of the genre.

I still read any of her books I can get my hands on.  The history of SF in the sixties, though much less significant than the Golden Age, is still interesting. It was then that the genre gained a cerain amount of respectablity: stories from Merrill’s antho’s having origins as diverse as The Atlantic and even The New Yorker, something unheard of in Campbell’s time.

All of the above actually prefaces a Merril antho that is less literary than most – after all, as the major anthologist of her era, she couldn’t dedicate herself exclusively to the obscure, experimental and unreadable.  It’s entitled SF The Best of the Best Part Two.

SF The Best of the Best Part Two Edited by Judith Merril

By pulling out the best of the stuff from her series of anthologies, a certain amount of dross that seemed like a good and cutlurally relevant idea at the time could be eliminated.  The cream that rose to the top and populates this book is still an annoying mix of pseudoscience, PSI and media (in that infant era of media which thought it was mature) without much in the way of exploration of things that weren’t of concern to the intellectuals of the day, but at least it’s perfectly readable.  Any one of these stories inserted into a book of more traditional SF tales would make a nice change of pace.  There’s even  Sheckley stoy that foreshadows The Truman Show.  An entire book is a bit much, though.

A reader looking for far future stories, space opera or even just some fun Earth-bound tech stories, will need to look elsewhere.  For Merril, those things don’t belong in Science Fiction and are a bit lowbrow.

Even the Asimov and the afrementioned Sheckley are pretty much character driven social stories.  Not bad, just a little lacking in the sensawunda compared to other offerings from these two.  Aldis or Budrys, of course, are a much more comfortable fit here.

Anyway, this is an interesting book, like everything Merril edited.  She was influential even if she was guiding the genre in the wrong direction.  When SF stops being fun to lock itself in an ivory tower, what happens is wht is happening today: readers flock to fantasy in droves, and SF moves away from the printed page to the big screen.

The Fascination with Lost Worlds

In the late 19th and early 20th century, European maps still had large swathes of terrain marked as unknown.  The siren call of these blank spaces led to some of the greatest explorations known to man and sparked the imaginations of countless young and not-so-young readers.

Writers, of course were quick to fill in the blanks that real-life explorers were leaving.  It was a time when one felt that anything could be found in those spaces, from an advanced civilization, to Prester John’s people to Shangri-La.  Readers couldn’t get enough of it, and some truly talented people took up the challenge of revealing what lay behind tropical jungles, Asian mountains, African deserts and Antartic ice.  Perhaps the most recognizable today are Edgar Rice Burroughs, H. Rider Haggard, H. P. Lovecraft and, of course, most famous of all, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Each of these men gave the genre their particular spin (especially Lovecraft in At the Mountains of Madness).  Haggard was the great doyen of the genre, and Burroughs was perhaps better known for Tarzan (which we discuss here) and Barsoom, but all three were inspired by the same terra incognitas.

The Lost WOrld and Other Stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Conan Doyle used his fame to create what is arguably the purest form of the lost world story, however, and my recent reading of The Lost World and Other Stories (essentially the complete Professor Challenger tales) is what inspired me to write about the sub-genre here.

The first thing we need to understand is that, while they may seem to us to be Fantasy stories today, these books were very firmly planted in Science Fiction convention when they were written.  Even At the Mountains of Madness was more akin to a modern SF story than the usual Lovecraftian horror piece.  These writers, while poring over their incomplete maps were asking the central question of science fiction – “What if?” – and attempting to answer it in the most plausible way while telling a gripping story.

Professor Challenger himself is an interesting character.  A rough-around-the-edges, unapologetic genius who is loathe to suffer fools – or anyone else really – he is the driving force behind the discovery of a world of prehistoric creatures (and both uncivilized natives and under-evolved proto-humans) on a plateau in South America in what is almost the standard recipe for Lost World tales.

The science fictional purity is lost in later Challenger stories as the protagonist (and Conan Doyle himself) become lost in their attempts to put a scientific frame around the period’s craze for spiritualism.  In my opinion, these are the weaker books, but perhaps, like so many others, I am tainted by my modern views.

That last brings us neatly to the central point of any discussion about lost world stories.  While they certainly had a golden age, that era passed as the gaps in those maps steadily got filled in with the names of villages and rivers and mountains.  The need to suspend disbelief became too great and people, more sophisticated now, moved on to newer things.

Worse, modern reevaluation has cast many of these explorers as little more than land-and-resource-grabbing colonial exploiters.

My response to this is twofold.  I am saddened by the fact that I will never be able to feel (as an adult, at least) the wonder that must have been common for educated people who understood that those blank spaces existed, and there was actually something there… and wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that that something was a wonderful something?

But even with a modern education, I still enjoy these romps into the supposed unknown, and my sadness is heightened by the knowledge that very few really good Lost World type books are published each year.  It’s a loss to readers everywhere, but it’s logical and follows the market.

Finally, it becomes necessary to address the whole revisionist thing.  No one will pretend that the scramble for Africa didn’t happen (or was in any way positive for the people already living there) but I am of the opinion that classic literature needs to be evaluated within the mores of the times, and that any attempt to apply a post-colonial prism is a waste of time and space in academic journals which could much better be used for praising my own books (or panning them – all is well as long as they spell my name right).

Our obsession with judging the past by our standards and rewriting it to suit our tastes has been particularly cruel to this brand of literature.  The fact that it still survives to be enjoyed today by those with the open minds needed to do so is a testament to how much fun it was in the first place.  And “The Lost World” is as good a place to start as any other (although my own personal favorites are the Haggard books).

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an award-winning Argentine novelist.  He is the author of Siege, a well-received far future tale of survival and determination.

Themed Anthos – A Good Foot in the Door

Today continues the set of two articles on my own writing experience that began on Wednesday. If people like these (and possibly even if they don’t, I’ll likely continue them in the future).

At the risk of seeming like a complete jerk (and yes, I’m aware that many of you feel that that ship sailed long ago) I will tell you a story about how I got started as a writer.

I sat down and wrote a story over a couple of days.  I fixed some typos and I sent it out on submission. I sent it out to three markets that rejected it.  The fourth bought it.  That story, entitled “Tenth Orbit” not only gave its title to my first collection, but has been reprinted in seven languages and still sells as a reprint now and then.  Also, the news sparked what was probably the ugliest celebration dance in history, but you really, really don’t want to know the details.

The point of this isn’t to make you hate me.  I’ve had the same amount of rejection and heartbreak as every other writer, but the fact that my road into print was comparatively easy meant that I never had to listen to that nagging voice in my mind that said “nothing you write will ever be good enough to sell.”

Nevertheless, I often get the feeling that nothing I write from now on will ever be as good as what came before, and that the prose I’ve produced over the past six months is simultaneously infantile, pompous, pretentious and shallow.  Being all four might seem impossible, but I often feel that way, especially when a dry spell comes along.

I’ve found that a good way to break through this is to go to your favorite marketplace report (I use The Grinder and Ralan for genre projects) and select a themed anthology looking for submissions – make sure you choose one with a deadline far enough off to give you a chance to write a story.

I’ve found this approach to have several benefits.  The first is that the guidelines and theme will tell you exactly what you need to write.  If you can’t follow instructions telling you to send over a 2500 word story about alcoholic koala bears in space, then, sadly, you’re never going to be a writer.  Reading comprehension is a good part of writing, after all.

The good part of the above is that for many projects you will only be competing against other stories written specifically for that antho.  While a place like Asimov’s might get thousands of subs in a month, an antho of this type might get only a few hundred.  Many of those will be by illiterates or people who don’t know what a koala bear actually is.  Yes, the odds are still long – that’s part of being a writer – but they are better than at other places.

The second benefit is that you probably don’t have an alcoholic koala story lying around, which means that you will have to stop and create something completely new, break out of a rut.  I’ve always found this to be a cool way to refresh the writing spirit.

A third benefit (assuming you write a good story and they buy it) is that at the end of it, apart from the money, you’ll have a shiny contributor’s copy filled with the work of a bunch of amazingly talented authors who love alcoholic koalas as much as you do.  It will feel amazing to be surrounded by these people, and you’ll also ask yourself what the editors were thinking when they bought yours as well…  but don’t worry, every author thinks that.

Strange Bedfellows Edited by Hayden Trenholm

This is often the best part.  I recently read a couple of anthos with my work in them, and I thought it would be fun to use them to exemplify the range of what’s possible here.  They’re both from 2014 (my TBR pile needs a new type of mathematics to describe it and it takes me a looong time to get to any book mired therein) and I place them here for your perusal.

The first is a pro-rate-paying antho (as defined by SFWA) entitled Strange Bedfellows, Edited by Hayden Trenholm. The guidelines for this one were pretty open: the story had to be about politics.

So I sent them a tale called “Gloop”, which, though not espousing any particular political leaning, clearly showed the effects of politics on the lives of the characters and their society.  The other stories were well-written, mostly left-leaning, but with a couple of more conservative stories to balance it out, and overtly political.  As one expects with this theme, philosophy and thought-out ideas (as well as a certain amount of pontification) were everywhere, but there was plenty of action and entertainment as well.

Undead and Unbound Cover

The second seems, at first glance, to be the polar opposite.  Undead and Unbound, edited by Brian M. Sammons and David Conyers, does exactly what it says on the tin.  Anything walking around after someone killed it was fair game.

Honesty compels me to admit that I was invited to this one, but it still made me sweat.  My problem was that I didn’t want to write a story that was just like everyone else’s.  I didn’t want to be a zombie in a sea of zombies, or just another vampire.

So I decided that a wight might do the trick, especially if that wight came alive during the Blitz and called it “Thunder in Old Kilpatrick”  To my relief, they accepted it…

The most interesting thing about this one, however, is that when I came to read it, it defied all my expectations about what an “undead” theme would include.  The writers went to great lengths to make their stories memorable, and the antho is extremely well written.  Definitely not just a piece of fluff for people with short attention spans.  So you can toss those prejudices out the window – your average call for zombie stories is going to require a lot of talent and imagination to get into.

And speaking of throwing out those prejudices, here’s another one that contains one of my stories.  I think you’ll agree that there’s an antho out there for everyone.  It’s just a question of finding the right call for submissions and writing the right story.

Sinisterotica Anthology Cover

 

Gustavo Bondoni was interviewed today by Jessica A. Scott.  His latest novel is Incursion.  You can buy it here.

Somewhat Scholarly Reflections on Science Fiction, Part 3

In our last post in this series, we bemoaned how the science fiction pendulum has swung all the way from being a genre best suited as entertainment to being a showcase for postmodernist and politicized literary experimentation.  We illustrated this final point by reviewing a pair of Gardner Dozois Year’s Best collections.

Either end of the pendulum represents a sad state of affairs, so it was nice to be able to end the piece on a positive note, noting that the latest one I’d read when the piece was written showed a bit of a return to balance (I’ve since read another, and this trend looks to be continuing, but I’ll have to do a complete piece on that one later).

However, although Gardner Dozois is the best measuring stick for the current state of the genre, and the tastemaker for the more academic side of the SFF world, he is not the only person putting together Year’s Best collections.

Years Best SF 6 - Hartwell

David G. Hartwell’s (1941-2016) long-running series of Year’s Best Books is the one I’d recommend for people who like a little more balance between fun in SF and the ever-present identity politics of the genre.  They are also a place where people who still think of Science Fiction as the “literature of ideas” can find solace in a world where much of the widely-recognized SF has become character-based to the point where the science fiction is almost secondary.  There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but a change of pace is welcome.

The two most recent Hartwell’s I’ve read are number 6 and number 16.  Number 16 was co-edited by Kathryn Cramer.  As these are annual, there are 10 years between them… and other than the names active in each (there’s a Waldrop story in number 6!) there is very little difference in the tone of the stories.  They are both well-written and fun, without espousing one political view over the other (compare that to Dozois, who goes from slightly left-leaning to extremely left-leaning and then dials it back somewhat in the same time period), which is refreshing in these polarized times.

Year's Best SF 16 - Hartwell Cramer

The death of David Hartwell is, to me, a terrible blow to science fiction.  Not only because of his even keel in selecting the best stories regardless of political preference as the genre navigates strange philosophical waters, but also because he was the founder of the New York Review of Science Fiction (where I’ve published a couple or articles but, sadly, they were published after Hartwell’s death).  He, and this series, will be sorely missed.

I wish Cramer had continued the series (I assume she is as good as Hartwell at choosing great stories), but sadly, I can’t find any beyond #18, which is already some years old.

Here at Classically Educated, we promise to scour the Year’s Best shelves to see if we can find another series which keeps this particular flame alive.  In times where political fanatics poison everything from daily life to Facebook feeds, finding someone who leaves politics aside (to the point where I can’t tell whether Hartwell leaned left or right, which, to me is a sign of greatness in a writer or editor) when editing an anthology is a refreshing breath of fresh air.

 

Gustavo Bondoni is an Argentine novelist and short story writer.  He writes in many genres, so if you prefer a good supernatural love story to straight science fiction you might enjoy Pacific Wind.

 

Book Recommendation: Incursion by Gustavo Bondoni

So, for those of you who’ve been enjoying our content over the past four years, we wanted to drop you a line to let you know that our Editor-In-Chief has published yet another new novel and he’ll fire us if we don’t plug it here (not the first time we’ve used these words–he had published one called Siege late last year!)!

Incursion by Gustavo Bondoni - Cover

It was supposed to be a desperate suicide mission, a holding action designed to delay a deadly enemy bent on destroying humanity: five starships sent to their doom, thousands of men and women knowingly laying down their lives to buy time for the besieged human race.

And then things got really hairy.

Tristan, a highly trained shock marine, wakes up after the trip to find that nothing works: not his equipment, not his ship, not even his body…

He joins the race against time to bring their equipment back up to fighting trim and begin to understand what has happened to them and to unravel the layers of confusion and betrayal.

But the enemy waiting for them doesn’t care about any of that. They just want to destroy the human incursion as quickly as possible.

Despite having been launched recently, this one already has at least a few good reviews,and you can buy it from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

Speculative Poetry: Past, Present, and Future

Über-polymath Richard H. Fay is back this week.  Over the past few weeks, he’s shown his deep knowledge of occult subjects, but this week gives us a beautifully-researched glimpse into the world of speculative poetry, from Gilgamesh to today.   You can read his blog here, and we also recommend checking out his Zazzle Store.  

Gilgamesh Tablet

Occasionally shoved into a dark, stuffy corner of the literary attic by its critics, speculative poetry actually possesses a heritage and current potential at least as rich and exciting as that claimed by its mainstream kin. Dealing with the fantastic as opposed to the mundane, speculative poetry travels winding roads leading to wondrous worlds, regions never traversed by mainstream verse. It mines the same creative vein as speculative fiction, using verse instead of prose to delve into the limitless depths of human imagination. With roots planted firmly in the mythic and folkloric epics and ballads of yore, and branches reaching high into the endless skies of modern fantasy, science fiction, and horror, speculative poetry is a historic and vital poetic genre.

Speculative poetry of one form or another has been with us a very long time. Ancient myths and legends presented in verse form were merely speculative poems cloaked in the shroud of belief. Even though these tales may have been accepted as fact at the time of their telling in the courts of ancient kings or before ancient hearths, their fantastic natures firmly planted them in the realm of the speculative.

One of the earliest literary works, the Ancient Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh, was also an important antecedent of all later heroic epics. Written in cuneiform on clay tablets, the poem described the incredible adventures of Gilgamesh, the King-God of Uruk. The strongest super-human that ever lived, Gilgamesh was two-thirds god and one-third human. After besting Enkidu in a furious wrestling match, Gilgamesh befriended the hairy wild man. The hero king and his hirsute companion then battled Humbaba the Terrible, the demonic guardian of the great Cedar Forest, and slew the mighty Bull of Heaven. Enkidu’s eventual death sent Gilgamesh on a futile quest for immortality. All of these elements would feel right at home nestled within the pages of a modern fantasy work.

The Ancient Greeks continued the tradition of including speculative elements in their own versified myths. Homer’s Odyssey, one of the foundational works of Western literature, recounted the tale of Odysseus’ long journey home from the Trojan War. Along the way, the Ithacan hero encountered many fantastic creatures and situations. He blinded the Cyclops Polyphemus, resisted the shape-shifting spell cast by the sorceress Circe, sought counsel from the dead, avoided the fatal allure of the Sirens’ song, navigated past the double-threat of Scylla and Charybdis, and ended up a captive of the amorous nymph Calypso. With aid from the gods, Odysseus finally made it back to Ithaca after a ten-year odyssey. All the trials and tribulations faced by Odysseus during his long voyage home influenced later journey tales.

No less imaginative than their ancient predecessors, medieval bards and balladeers wove fantastic threads into the tapestry of their own mythic, legendary, and folkloric works. In the Old English epic Beowulf, the eponymous main character battled the monstrous Grendel, Grendel’s ogress mother, and a deadly dragon. Another Old English poem, “The Dream of the Rood”, told the tale of the Crucifixion as witnessed by the tree that became the Holy Cross, an unusual viewpoint reminiscent of the inhuman perspectives found in some modern speculative verse. In the Middle English chivalric romance Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the enchanted Green Knight lost his head without apparent ill effect. Some medieval ballads such as “Thomas Rhymer”, “The Unquiet Grave”, and “The Laily Worm and the Machrel of the Sea” drew on supernatural themes, featuring fairies, ghosts, dragons, and other fantastical beings and beasts.

Spenser Faerie Queene

Although the veil of belief may have slowly lifted from the Renaissance on, poets still continued to incorporate elements of the fantastic into their works. The Elizabethan poet Edmund Spenser set his allegorical epic The Faerie Queene in a “Faerie Land” populated by chivalrous knights, noble ladies, deceitful witches, shape-shifting sorcerers, heroic satyrs, and terrible dragons.

At times, the great playwright and poet William Shakespeare penned scenes containing fantastical characters and situations. Some of his dramatic verse delved into the realm of fairies, witches, ghosts, and sorcerers. Shakespeare featured fair folk meddling in the love lives of mortals in his romantic comedy A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Scheming witches foretold the future with ominous results in Macbeth. The ghost of the murdered Danish king haunted Elsinore castle as well as the prince’s troubled mind in Hamlet. Served by the airy spirit Ariel, the sorcerer Prospero conjured up a storm in The Tempest.

A proponent of the Sturm und Drang and later Weimar Classicism movements, the German poet, novelist, playwright and natural philosopher Johann Wolfgang von Goethe echoed folk themes about malevolent forest spirits in his poem “Der Erlkönig“. Composed in 1782, this chilling ballad followed the haunting ride of a father and his doomed son through the Erl-King’s wood. Invisible to adult eyes just like any modern bogeyman or monster-in-the-closet, the increasingly aggressive Erl-King eventually took the boy by force. At the end of the journey, the father was left holding a corpse.

Several Romantic-era poets must be included among the predecessors of modern speculative poets. Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Queen Mab” may have been a revolutionary philosophical poem, but much of the imagery involving the Fairy Queen and her chariot’s flight through time and space was fantastical in nature. John Keats’ “Lamia” drew heavily from the well of ancient mythology, but also contained a drop or two of fairy folklore. The macabre and occult poems of the American Romantic writer Edgar Allan Poe could be considered the grand-sires of some of the more horror-tinged verse composed by today’s dark speculative poets.

Later Victorian and Edwardian poets also created works that contained the fantastic, poetry that could be considered speculative in nature. “Goblin Market” by the Victorian English poet Christina Rossetti told the tale of two sisters and their experience with the deliciously evil fruit of goblin men. One fell into temptation and ate their fruit, then the other braved the goblins’ wrath to rescue her sister from a pining death. Alfred, Lord Tennyson created The Faerie Queene of his age when he penned the Arthurian cycle Idylls of the King, a work based on Sir Thomas Mallory’s Le Morte d’Arthur and the medieval Welsh collection of tales called the Mabinogion. Merlin’s magic and miraculous visions mingled with the chivalrous exploits of Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table within the pages of Tennyson’s masterpiece. Rudyard Kipling explored mythic and fantastical themes, often as allegories of his own experiences, in some of his poetic works such as “The Centaurs” and “Pan in Vermont”.

William Butler Yeats, an Irish poet who bridged the gap between the Victorian and the Modernist and was a driving force behind the Irish Literary Revival, found inspiration in Celtic myths, legends, and folklore, as well as personal mystical encounters. “The Wanderings of Oisin”, one of Yeats’ earliest works, presented the mythic story of Oisin’s adventures in the isles of Faerie as told through his dialogue with Saint Patrick. Niamh called seductively as the fair folk rode out from Knocknarea in “The Hosting of the Sidhe”. The poem’s narrator tells of his imaginative vision of a sphinx, a Buddha, and a girl who danced herself to death in “The Double Vision of Michael Robartes”.

Some well-known authors responsible for the creation and popularity of modern fantasy literature also penned fantasy poetry. Robert E. Howard, father of the sword-and-sorcery genre, wrote poems such as “Cimmeria”, a work about the gloomy homeland of Conan the Barbarian. J.R.R. Tolkien, a writer often considered to be the father of high-fantasy and one whose works sparked a resurgence of interest in fantastical literature, interspersed song and poetry throughout his wondrous prose tales. He also wrote a collection of poems, ostensibly taken from the Hobbit manuscript the Red Book of Westmarch, entitled “The Adventures of Tom Bombadil”.

With the advent of science fiction as a literary genre, poets soon found ways to put the genre’s varied wondrous subjects and themes to verse. Just as Edgar Allan Poe, Jules Verne, and H.G. Wells pioneered the writing of science fiction in prose, a handful of far-sighted poets pioneered the writing of science fiction in verse. Ray Bradbury, one of the masters of the science fiction or science fantasy genre, also wrote speculative poetry. In 2008 he was named the Science Fiction Poetry Association’s latest Grand Master. Several magazines devoted to publishing science fiction in prose, such as Asimov’s, also published science fiction poetry. Some journals such as Star*Line focused on publishing poetry of a speculative nature.

In the recent past, science fiction poets, or genre poets in general, have experimented with different poetic forms. One such form adopted by speculative poets is the haiku, a minimalist poem of Japanese origin. In 1995 Tom Brink laid out the rules for scifaiku in The Scifaiku Manifesto, but science fiction haiku had been around at least since the publication of Karen Anderson’s “Six Haiku” in 1962. Speculative haiku need not be inspired by science fiction alone; they may also utilize fantasy and horror themes, with horror-themed examples often called “horrorku”. Scifaikuest, a Sam’s Dot magazine published in both print and on-line versions, specializes in the publication of scifaiku and horrorku, as well as other Japanese-inspired forms like tanka and haibun (haiku combined with a prose paragraph). All these forms continue to be a valid method of poetic expression for speculative writers, and can be a great exercise in word economy.

As ancient poetry often presented fantastical myths, legends, and lore in verse form, modern speculative poets use verse so their readers can experience wonder, weirdness, and horror. Many of today’s genre writers and poets practice the art of speculative poetry composition, including Bruce Boston, David C. Kopaska-Merkel, Kendall Evans, Deborah P. Kolodji, and Mike Allen. Many magazines and journals such as those mentioned above continue to publish works by speculative poets. Many venues, both print and on-line, offer opportunities for rising poetic talents, giving them a chance to let their imaginative voices be heard. With a potential limited only by the poet’s imagination, speculative poetry possesses the capability to grow far beyond its parent genres.

To muddy the waters just a bit, actual individual definitions of speculative poetry may vary almost as much as individual definitions of poetry in general. Some see speculative poetry in broad terms, covering all verse containing elements of the science fiction, fantasy, and horror genres. Others take a narrower view, claiming that speculative poetry is a special kind of genre verse, moving beyond the literal and into the suggestive and allusive. However you look at it, broad or narrow, speculative poetry is the poetry of the fantastic, poetry of the wondrous, poetry of the “what if?”. And such poetry should appeal to all fans of genre literature, whether they think they like poetry or not. After all, the family tree of speculative fiction has poetry at its roots.

 

(Article originally published in the on-line version of Abandoned Towers, January 2009, and also published in Issue 17 of the print zine Illumen, Autumn 2012.)

 

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Book Recommendation: Outside by Gustavo Bondoni

So, for those of you who’ve been enjoying our content over the past few years, we wanted to drop you a line to let you know that our Editor-In-Chief has published a new novel and he’ll fire us if we don’t plug it here (not the first time we’ve used these words–he had published one called Siege late last year!)!

Gustavo Bondoni  - Outside - Cover

Outside is a novel of Interstellar Contact, Virtual Worlds, and the Essence of Humanity.

Earth is empty of humans. This surprising observation stymies Rome and his shipmates, crew of the starship come to re-establish contact from the colonies. What could have happened in the 500-years of the non-interference treaty to vanish everyone?

Meanwhile, on Earth, Emily is living her computer-simulated life, along with the rest of Earth’s residents: bodies stored in vast underground chambers, minds living without disease, poverty, or pain. But dramatic change is coming to their carefully regulated virtual world. Impenetrable black walls suddenly cut off cities. Monsters appear, destroying all they touch. Emily’s expertise has her on the front line of the investigation, trying to understand these frightening developments.

When Rome and Emily meet, it seems they’ve found the answers to each other’s mysteries. But as the colonists and Earth engage in tense diplomacy, suppressed histories are revealed, and a tyrant with frightening powers rises. Together, Rome and Emily discover the terrifying secret buried deep underground that threatens the existence of everyone on Earth.

 

Outside can be purchased from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

A Mad Scientist Primer

The Island of Dr Moreau

Well before the pulp era, the giants of the science fiction genre were writers of novels such as Verne and Wells (Mary Shelley, as well, of course, but it seems she was inserted into the SF canon years later, when the true significance of Frankenstein was understood).

Of these, Verne clearly wasn’t concerned with any of the bad things that progress might bring.  He seemed more of the kind of man who delighted in imagining what the future was going to look like.  The conflict in his novels is either man against man or man against the elements.  Man against progress didn’t seem to be his thing.

Wells,on the other hand, always gave his speculations a much sharper edge.  He had a brilliant imagination, more than capable of asking what if? but he was also willing to go that extra step and say… what if we took it too far?  And then answer the question to the best of his ability.

Today, mad scientists (and Bond villains) are expected to have their lairs hidden on isolated tropical islands, but when Wells wrote The Island of Dr Moreau, he was breaking new ground: creating a place isolated from society where that society’s nightmares and anxieties could be given palpable shape.

So Moreau, though less well-known than much of Wells output such as The Time Machine and War of the Worlds, is equally influential.  Perhaps more than the other two in many senses.

And it’s definitely this one that really shows Wells’ true colors.  Was he enthusiastic about science?  Probably.  But he was also deeply concerned about the possibility of abuse, and this novel is perhaps the most palpable expression of that fear.  If only for that reason, it’s a must-read.

Easton Press Island of Dr Moreau

A word about the edition that I read: it’s an Easton Press edition which is just as pretty as the ones we spoke of a couple of months ago.  We probably should have added this one into that post, but I already had an Easton book there, and it would have seemed like shilling.  Still, most used bookstores have these for sale at reasonable prices, so might not hurt to ask!