Andrzej Zgorzelski
Is Science Fiction a Genre of Fantastic Literature?
The question which has been chosen as the title of this paper is
so basic and essential that it may verge on impudence when asked at a time
abounding in detailed and conscientious SF studies. The penetrating expositions
of Eric S. Rabkin, Robert Scholes, and Darko Suvin which come readily to mind
form in themselves a respectable tradition of academic thought in SF research.
But, in spite of attempts to systematize SF and fantastic literature, there is
still no general agreement as to the nature of these phenomena, which makes it
impossible to answer the question in a satisfying way, either in its theoretical
or historical aspects (cf. Fredericks, 1978:33-34).1
What is urgently needed in
the study of SF and related genres is some theoretical basis that would make
possible the analytical and functional use of such terms as "genre," "the
fantastic," "science fiction." Nobody can be really satisfied with the existing
situation, where some authors affirm that SF and science fantasy are "part of
fantasy" (Aldiss, 1973:8; Kagarlitski, 1971; Panshin, 1971:32) while others
suggest that at least the majority of SF is "realistic" and in direct opposition
to "fantasy" fiction (e.g., Heinlein, 1959:22). Nor is there any common
agreement as to the range of SF. For instance, many critics think that utopia is
a kind of sub-genre of SF, whereas others suggest that the opposite is true (cf.
the reference in Suvin, 1977:14). Even in the most ambitious academic reports
and monographs the very concept of genre - surely the most fundamental notion in
any systemic approach to literary history - is used in the most diverse ways. It
is understood either as a theoretical construct, an essentially stable and
extremely limited set of features common to a group of texts (Suvin, 1972;
Todorov, 1970), or as a historical phenomenon, a dynamic system of features
evolving in its variants (Scholes, 1975), or - quite simply - as a class of
works defined more or less arbitrarily according to occasional needs of the
observer (Rabkin, 1976). It is precisely this variety of views that appears
responsible for the diversity of controversial conclusions concerning the
determinants of SF and related genres. Hence, it is perhaps advisable to start
our presentation of still another methodological proposition with the notion of
genre itself.
1. A genre is understood here as a concept of literary history
denoting a diachronic system which underlies a set of texts. The system appears
only in a view that generalizes and abstracts from particular synchronic
structures (subsets of literary texts written in a given literary epoch) which
constitute the successive stages of the systemic evolution. The structures, of
course, are characterized by various groups of features depending on the period
in which they appear. Their systemic nature becomes evident once contiguous
structures are brought into focus - the researcher immediately notices many
similarities among large groups of features and can even predict the future
changes implicit in the immanent evolutionary tendencies of the system and
determined to some extent by the influence of the dominant genres of that epoch.
The feeling of systemic continuity is easily lost in the case of
temporally distant structures: they often manifest completely different features
and their systemic nature could only be exposed by a study of the whole
evolutionary sequence. Such structures are usually called genre variants and it
is precisely they that generate the successive genre conventions. This concept
of genre is illustrated in the following diagram (Opacki. 1967):
The most serious difficulty with the genre concept comes from
the fact that the existence of a particular genre structure (variant) in a given
epoch is usually accompanied by literary consciousness of writers, critics, and
readers who recognize this structure as different from the synchronic structures
of other genres. This intersubjective recognition, depending as it does on the
general level of education and culture, on the familiarity of the reading public
with traditional and modern literatures, and on the state of criticism of the
epoch, is, of course, often arbitrary. It seems that the researcher has to deal
here with the two distinct fields of enquiry: with the internal (or textual)
genological phenomena, and with their recognition in various intellectual strata
of the society. Nevertheless, in actual practice these two fields constantly
interact. In fact, a genre cannot appear functional as such roughly at a time of
its appearance. In other words, it cannot start to function in the tradition of
literature without the contemporary reading public becoming aware of the genre's
basic difference from the traditionally accepted conventions. The absence of
such awareness in the literary consciousness of the time in case of Gilgamesh,
of the Shakespearean drama, and of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein -- as a symptom
that the textual alterations of traditional conventions in them lack genological
significance - invalidates the methodological appropriateness of looking for SF
determinants in them (cf. Nicholls, 1974; Amis, 196 1; Aldiss, 1973).2
It is
following this criterion of the literary consciousness of the age that we can
differentiate between the birth of a new genre and the appearance of genre
variants. As our diagram indicates, almost every variant is the potential
beginning of a new genre; but it is realized as such only when historical
continuity is broken by the functional opposition of the variant to its
historical roots, both in the alterations of its structure and in the general
semantics. When a new genre is born, it is often diametrically opposed not only
to its own immediate tradition, but also to the rest of the previously accepted
genre hierarchy - or at least to some part of it. The birth of the mock-heroic
poem and of the novel, for instance, went hand in hand with the recognition that
their meta-genological information was directed respectively against the
multifarious tradition of the heroic and against the conventions of the romance.
It follows that the introduction of new themes or motifs employed in a set of texts (Bailey, 1947) is in itself
not tantamount to the birth of a new genre. If SF as a genre makes its
appearance in the history of literature, the fact should be detectable in the
broad vistas of historical reproduction and alteration of genological
conventions.
2. As examples illustrating these processes I am selecting here
two of the most ancient genres connected with the later birth of SF: the utopia
and the Gothic novel. Both of them were born in opposition to some groups of
genres and their variants; the utopia in opposition to the Platonic dialogue,
the travel narrative, the treatise, the sermon, and others; the Gothic novel
mainly in opposition to the picaresque works of Tobias Smollett, to the
so-called "realistic" novel of Henry Fielding, and to the kind of equally
"realistic" writing best exemplified perhaps by the works of Daniel Defoe. The
main factor in establishing the opposition at hand was, of course, the
introduction of "the fantastic."
An interpretation of this theoretical concept -
another one from among the most basic notions in our field - has been proposed
in my paper "Understanding Fantasy" (1972), which dealt with the definition of
the fantastic as an intratextual literary phenomenon. I advanced the view that
the fantastic consists in the breaching of the internal laws which are initially
assumed in the text to govern the fictional world. The establishment of these
laws always constitutes meta-textual information about the genre convention that
is to be employed in the given text: each of the traditional genres has its own
device for opening the text and for suggesting the basic laws of the fictional
world. This information rarely acquires the shape of one or two stock phrases,
as in the case of the fairy tale's "Once upon a time . . ."; but it is always
suggested in the initial pages of the text (cf. the examples in Heinlein,
1959:37). When these initially established laws are breached in the course of
the story, this is discerned first of all by the characters, the narrator or the
addressee of the narration - who from the very beginning are all fully aware of
the laws of their world. The breaching of the laws causes their astonishment,
surprise, fear, awe, disbelief. Owing to the expression of these feelings, the
fact of the breaching might be easily documented in the text itself. But at the
same time the change of the world laws becomes a breach of the previously
established genre features. In this way the introduction of the fantastic
constitutes meta-textual information about the opposition of a given text to the
traditional genre or even to the accepted genre spectrum.
This is evident in the
birth of the utopia and the Gothic novel. They both suggested, in the beginning
of the texts, the construction of a fictional world in accordance with the laws
governing the objective reality. In other words, they established the primary
laws of their worlds as a mimetic model (MWM). As has been already suggested,
the fantastic entering this system in the course of the story was a breach of
that model and changed it into a different world - the novum (NWM), to use here
Suvin's term. Hence, while the opposed genres presented a unified shape of the
fictional world, the utopia and the Gothic novel (and not only these two, but
also some variants of other genres, e.g. the fantastic novel of adventure) build
their fictional world as a textual confrontation of two models of reality. We
illustrate this in the following formula:
I. Primary conventions = mimetic
genres = MWM
II. Secondary conventions = fantastic genres = MWM ? NWM
A full
characterization of these secondary genre conventions would require considerable
space. I have to confine myself to the most important features only. The fantastic genres, as has been said, are marked by the
existence of two models of reality in the text. These are usually confronted by
means of a number of popular motifs which change with particular genres: e.g., a
mad scientist, an extraordinary voyage, Bug-Eyed Monsters, vampires and ghosts,
a wonderful invention or discovery. All of them aim at provoking the reader's
feeling of Wonder, of the Unexpected and the Unknown. either by itself, or
combined with didactic purposes.
Historically, these secondary conventions have
a growing tendency to diminish the extent and the functions of that part of the
text which presents the mimetic model of reality. Its complete disappearance in
a number of texts exerts an immediate influence on their genological function.
The fictional world becomes once more unified - no breach of the initially
established laws is observed and, as a result, the fantastic element vanishes.
The writer directs his efforts not towards making this world probable, but
towards making it ordinary; not towards justifying the appearance of improbable
events, characters or elements of the setting, but rather towards making it
appear normal, everyday-like within the suggested laws of the given reality. The
mood is that of rationalization; even if the reader observes an apparent change
in the laws of the world - both the protagonist and the reader know that it is
not a breach of the laws themselves, but the acquisition of a better knowledge
about them. The mystery of the new world has vanished: a scientist is no longer
a magician but one of us, an expert, a specialist; an imaginary voyage is not an
extraordinary happening but a common event. The text no longer presents a
confrontation of two models of reality (although such a confrontation may be
undertaken by the reader); from the very beginning it tries to build a model of
a non-mimetic reality not with a view to evoking the feelings of Wonder and of
the Unknown, but rather as an aim in itself or simply as a model of the world
per se. The dominant literary ambition, inscribed in such texts, is no longer to
reflect the existing world, to reconstruct the past one, to issue a
pseudo-prophecy or a warning - the centre of interest is the creation of a new
reality.
Thus the first historical convention of SF is that of a genre devoid of
the fantastic, of a genre that is functionally opposed to the primary genre
conventions of the mimetic tradition and to the secondary genre conventions of
"fantastic" literature. The opposition becomes evident once we complete our
formula:
I. Primary conventions = mimetic genres = MWM
II. Secondary conventions
= "fantastic" genres = MWM ? NWM
III.Tertiary convention = SF genre = NWM
3. As has been suggested, the interpretation of "genre" proposed
here differs from other views of genre mainly in that it stresses the historical
continuity of genological phenomena and the literary consciousness co-existing
with them. It may seem that our identification of the first historical
convention of SF is based solely on the shape of its world: the unified
non-mimetic model of reality, the feature that SF evidently shares with some
other genres including the fairy tale and the so-called "heroic fantasy." But
the non-mimetic model of reality is here important only in so far as it is a
product of a certain historical process, as a product which feeds on the
immediately preceding tradition of the "fantastic" genres and stands in
opposition to them. In other words, it is decisive that the SF convention
appears to be a tertiary genre convention, while the fairy tale, for instance,
is evidently at the other end of the whole spectrum of primary conventions that
we spoke of, namely: the primary convention of the anti-mimetic order.
Moreover, the SF texts themselves seem to "remember" their own
roots in the tradition of the utopia, the Gothic novel, and the fantastic novel
of adventure; and this is due to other reasons than the mere use of many themes
and motifs found in both kinds of literature. Although the system of the
fantastic has been eliminated from the SF conventions, the texts more often than
not resort to equivalents of that system. Placing the time of action ahead of
"the author's empirical environment" (a phrase used by Suvin, 1972:373) - the extrapolative device - constitutes such an
equivalent, as it links up to the system of measuring time peculiar to a mimetic
reality. In SF the extrapolative device functions as a sign of the mimetic
model, while the system to which the sign belongs - the model itself - does not
exist in the text any longer. A similar function is fulfilled by the
polarization of the language into a scientific jargon with its neologisms and
into the language closely modeled upon the everyday speech of the author's
times; the latter pole becomes a sign, an equivalent of the mimetic reality. In
other words, in its use of equivalents the structure of the works themselves
induces the reader to view SF as an inheritor of the fantastic genres - but an
inheritor which is marked by the disappearance of the fantastic.
I am acutely aware that all these propositions are "most
vulnerable to the charge of being overly speculative," full of "unnecessary
jargon" (such as "tertiary conventions," "genre hierarchy," "meta-" and
"intra-textual," "equivalents," etc.); that they betray "an a priori interest in
creating a system"; that the diagrams and formulas are hardly "anything more
than perhaps useful intuitions" (cf. Fredericks' review of Rabkin, 1978:34).
Furthermore, no analysis of an actual text has been offered here to support and
illustrate these methodological considerations. It seems to me, nevertheless,
that many points in the proposition seem to be in line with the current
understanding of our topics. Thus, my interpretation of the fantastic as a
breach of intratextual genre laws, although it antedates Rabkin's "reversal of
narrative ground rules" by four years, is almost identical with his definition.
The only difference lies in my understanding of "genre," which I would share -
at least to some extent - with Scholes (1975:31) rather than with Rabkin or Todorov. Similarly, I would
agree with Suvin that SF "is distinguished by the narrative dominance of a
fictional novelty" and that it is differentiated from the fantastic genres by
"the presence of scientific cognition as the sign or correlative of a method ...
identical to that of a modern philosophy of science" (Suvin, 1978:45). I would
suggest, however, that both the "dominance" and the "presence" that Suvin speaks
of should be determined by some clearly defined intratextual phenomena (such as,
e.g., the unified and non-unified models of reality) and viewed as primarily the
result of genre evolution and not necessarily as the effect of some
non-historical constant of narrative logic" (Suvin, 1978:47).
In other words, what I have attempted to do here is to suggest
that no "structural" view of SF is fully possible without taking into
consideration both the historical notion of genre continuity and the existence
of the literary awareness of genres. Hence, E. M. Forster's "The Machine Stops" (1909) -- although presenting a unified non-mimetic model of the
world -- should be viewed as a successive variant of a utopian story -- not SF!
--
because there was as yet no SF genre convention to be continued at the time: all
the existing genres of which the text could be the continuation were
significantly characterized by the use of the fantastic. Of course, the
non-existence of the name itself (SF) is relatively unimportant; the relevant fact was the literary historical
situation in which the work could be recognized only as a text continuing the
tradition of an extant genre. Although it also opposed the conventions of
utopia, as a single text it could at best suggest the birth of the variant of
utopian tradition -- as in fact it did. It is true, naturally, that this variant
of the genre will later create one of the basic impulses for the appearance of
the S-F convention.
Similarly, for the reasons explained above, Bulwer-Lytton's A Strange Story should be regarded as a fantastic story of the Gothic type,
whereas Wells's The Invisible Man (also a story confronting two models of
reality) is better treated as a fantastic story of adventure, belonging - if a
closer denomination is required -- to the genological variant of the "scientific
romance."
The meta-literary interest awakened in the 20th century seems to have
stimulated the literary awareness into voicing this interest by the creation of
critical and theoretical terms which foreshadowed the appearance of literary
phenomena in the writers' practice. At the beginning of the century this
interest was given an outlet in the recognition of such genological variants as
"scientific romances" and "scientifiction." So far as the text structures of
these variants are concerned, they introduced some new motifs and narration
methods; but, as a rule, they also followed the tradition of utopia, the Gothic
novel, the fantastic story of adventure, etc.; the changes were not effective
enough to produce the functional opposition of those texts to the accepted genre
hierarchy and to give birth to a new genre. Similarly, although the coinage of
the term "science fiction" in 1929 heralded the first S-F convention, it
happened nearly a decade in advance of its actual birth.
It seems extremely
significant that in the history of magazines which are avowedly called
"science-fiction magazines" in the critical literature, 1926 marks the
appearance of Amazing Stories and 1930 that of Astounding Stories of
Super-Science. The titles suggest best the kind of stories that appeared there: "Astounding was unabashedly an action adventure
magazine," says one of its readers (Rogers, 1964:4). Harry Bates, the editor of
the Astounding Stories of Super-Science, tells us about his troubles with the
title for the magazine:
My preference [for the title] was 'Science Fiction', which was
generic and like the other ['Tomorrow'] had dignity, but I killed this one with
arguments that as a phrase hardly anyone had ever seen or heard it...and that as
a name it would promise only mild and orthodox stories concerned with today's
science.... The magazine could easily die of lack of readers...(Rogers,
1964:xi).
It was not until 1938 that the term "science fiction" appeared
in the title of Astounding Science Fiction and only as late as 1939 and the
early forties that the recognition of the convention was confirmed by such
titles as Science Fiction, Future Combined with Science Fiction, and
Science
Fiction Quarterly (Rogers, 1964:64-65).
The proposition I have tried to present may provoke many other
doubts besides those anticipated in the third part of this paper. So it is
perhaps advisable to stress here once more that there are two decisive factors
in the appearance of a new genre convention. The first is the new structural
changes within the texts themselves (the text being the main object of our study) that establish
the opposition of a new structure to the
accepted genre conventions. The other is the readers' recognition of both the
changes and the "antithetical relationship" of them to the tradition. This
awareness of the reading public, as the resultant of the changes, is often one of the most important historical directives for the
researcher in establishing the period in which the changes begin to function as
an element of the literary tradition, in which they begin to work as a literary
system.
If the late thirties and early forties were to witness the appearance of
the first historical S-F convention, this might perhaps be regarded as an
attempt to deprive the genre of its ancient nobility and of its most famous
authors, Verne and Wells among them. But it is not the aim of genological
research to provide apologetic evaluations or dogmatic panegyrics of particular
genres; it is primarily directed towards doing justice to the historical
evolution of literature by offering a description of its many aspects. It seems
extremely important to view the constructional principles and the modes of
narration of a particular text in the perspectives of literary history so as to
bridge the gap between the theoretical and historical approaches to fiction. I
have tried here to avoid thinking about the historical process in literature in
static terms; and constructing a system of finite, more or less arbitrarily
chosen, thematic features as a pattern which - malleable to a degree within the
possibilities of such a set - would suggest an unhistorical pseudo-similarity of
the works.
Instead we have striven to view the texts in the systemic
perspectives of both their internal construction and its function within
the text-reader historical relationship. It appeared possible to see these
functions as distinguishable in the signals within the text (unified and
non-unified models; equivalents). Such a procedure for dealing with works of art
seemed to be a reliable one for both theoretical and historical reasons.
NOTES
1. Complete bibliographical references are to be found below. In
my text, they are cited by name, year of first publication, and page number.
Brian Aldiss: 1973. Billion Year Spree (London, 1975).
Kingsley Amis: 1961. New
Maps of Hell. A Survey of Science Fiction (London, 1961).
J. O. Bailey: 1947.
Pilgrims Through Space and Time. Trends and Patterns in Scientific and Utopian
Fiction (NY, 1947).
S. C. Fredericks: 1978. "Problems of Fantasy," SFS 14
(1978):33-34.
Ryszard Handke: 1969. Polska prozafantasiyczno-naukowa. Problemy
poetyki (Wrociaw, Krakow, 1969).
Robert A. Heinlein: 1959. "Science Fiction: Its
Nature, Faults and Virtues," in The Science Fiction Novel. Imagination and
Social Criticism (Chicago, 1969, 3rd edition), pp. 14-18.
Julius Kagarlitski:
1971. "Realism and Fantasy," in T.D. Clareson, ed., SF: The Other Side of
Realism (Bowling Green, 1971), pp. 29-52.
Peter Nicholls: 1975. "Science Fiction and the Mainstream, Part
2: The Great Tradition of Proto Science Fiction," Foundation, 5 (1974):9-43.
Ireneusz Opacki: 1967. "Krzyzowanie sie postaci gatunkowych jako whyznacznik
ewolucji poezji," in Problemy teorii literatury (Wroctaw, Warszawa, Krakow,
1967), pp. 165-206.
Alexei Panshin: 1971. "Science Fiction in Dimension," in T.D.
Clareson, ed., SF: The Other Side of Realism (Bowling Green, 1971), pp. 326-33.
Eric S. Rabkin: 1976. "Genre Criticism: Science Fiction and the
Fantastic," in M. Rose ed., Science Fiction. A Collection of Critical Essays
(Englewood Cliffs NJ, 1976), pp. 89- 101.
Alva Rogers: 1964. A Requiem for Astounding (Chicago, 1964).
Robert Scholes: 1975. Structural Fabulation. An Essay on Fiction
of the Future (Notre Dame and London, 1975).
Darko Suvin: 1972. "On the Poetics
of the Science Fiction Genre," College English, 34 (1972):372-82.
1977. "SF Theory. Internal and External Delimitation and Utopia
(Summary)," Extrapolation, 19 (1977):13-15.
1978. "On What Is and Is Not a SF Narration: With a List of 101
Victorian Books That Should Be Excluded from SF Bibliographies," SFS, 14
(1978):45-47.
Tzvetan Todorov: 1970. Introduction à la littérature fantastique
(Paris, 1970).
Andrzej Zgorzelski: 1972. "Understanding Fantasy," Zagadnienia
Rodzajów Literackich, 14 (1972):103-110.
1973. "Pojecie ekwiwalentu w badaniach prozy narracyjnej,"Folia
Societatis Scientiarum Lublinensis, 15 (1973):75-82.
2. Looking for SF
determinants in some ancient, Renaissance, or Romantic texts seems to me
dangerously close to the illicit procedure of sentencing a man by applying a law
that was not extant at the time of the supposed criminal deed. (This is not
tantamount to saying that writing SF is a criminal activity!) But it would do
some critics good to remember that it is Christopher Colombus who functions in
history as the discoverer of America, though he was not the first European to
reach the new land. At least so far as the historical perspectives count, it is
not only the fact itself that makes something what it is, but also the human
awareness of it. Historically speaking, the wolf (or jackal?) ceased to be a
wild animal at a time when humans became aware of the significant changes in its
nature--consciously aware enough to call it a "dog."
ABSTRACT
What is urgently needed in the study of SF and related genres is some
theoretical basis that would make possible the analytical and functional use of
such terms as "genre," "the fantastic," and "science fiction." Nobody can be
really satisfied with the existing situation, where some authors affirm that SF
and science fantasy are "part of fantasy" (Aldiss, Panshin) while others suggest
that at least the majority of SF is "realistic" and in direct opposition to
"fantasy" (Heinlein). Nor is there any common agreement as to the range of SF.
For instance, many critics think that utopia is a kind of sub-genre of sf (Suvin),
whereas others suggest that the opposite is true. Even in the most ambitious
academic reports and monographs the very concept of genre--surely the most
fundamental notion in any systemic approach to literary history--is used in the
most diverse ways. It is understood either as a theoretical construct, an
essentially stable and extremely limited set of features common to a group of
texts (Suvin, Todorov), as a historical phenomenon and a dynamic system of
features evolving in its variants (Scholes), or--quite simply--as a class of
works defined more or less arbitrarily according to occasional needs of the
observer (Rabkin).
It is precisely this variety of views that appears responsible for the
diversity of controversial conclusions concerning the determinants of SF and
related genres. This essay offers a tentative theoretical outline for an
analytical and functional definition of terms such as "genre," "the fantastic,"
and "science fiction." It will strive to view such texts in the systemic
perspectives of both their internal construction and their function
within the text-reader historical relationship. It is important to the view the
constructional principles and the modes of narration of such texts in the
context of literary history so as to bridge the gap between the theoretical and
historical approaches to such fictional forms.
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