The Fallacy of Fantasy

Confession: I love old Kung Fu movies, especially early Jackie Chan, back when he did all his own stunts, but none of the lines... at least, not in English.

Reading:

• Master of the Cauldron by David Drake

Writing:

• "Ferian Fetlock Cures a Horse"

I just finished my last few revisions on "Illuminated" today over my lunch hour at work. I've formatted it according to the guidelines posted on the Realms of Fantasy website, and tomorrow I submit it for publication, along with a long overdue car insurance bill.

That's got me thinking a lot about fantasy (the story, not the bill). In particular, this innate contradiction inherent in most fantasy settings.

Any world should be one that draws us in. Fantasy, in particular, succeeds because it presents a world of which we'd like to be a part. More than most other genres, fantasy invites us to live in a new and different place, one in which our values have meaning and the realities of normal existence can be countermanded with the wave of a wand. It's a world in which people can be Special (note the capital), and those people are us.

Yet in order to be believable, the story must ring true, in characterization and description and motivation and all the other pieces that make up a story. In order to compensate for the fantastical elements, everything else must be grounded in relentless realism.

Do you see the inherent contradiction? Most fantasy settings are medieval or even earlier. Master of the Cauldron, for example, is based around classical era technology (in the seafaring especially) and Sumerian culture. And yet the characters have the same point of view and standard of living as we do. If I were suddenly transported to this world, I might not have much more to complain about than itchy clothes and a long walk in the morning for a cold bath.

But is that really surprising? To make a world one that people would want to live in, it is necessary to gloss over some of the more unpalatable elements. Yet in doing so risks sacrificing the believability of the setting, which is so important in a fantasy story. So the author is left to walk a thin line between gritty realism and escapism.

Some stories choose to fall off the tightrope entirely and follow one path or the other. George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire goes 100% gritty. It is not a world in which I would ever choose to live, but I enjoy visiting it very much. Of course, very much the same story could be written in an historical novel, if a few of the fantasy elements were replaced with real world equivalents. I would submit that A Song of Ice and Fire is not a fantasy per se, but rather a story with fantastical elements.

On the other side of the spectrum, David Eddings' multi-volume saga consisting of The Belgariad and The Malloreon spring readily to mind. The world in which they are set is a pageant, not a real world. I'm not claiming it wasn't an enjoyable read, but it was by no means deep literature.

I'm not trying to impose a value judgment on one technique over the other, although my tastes tend more toward Martin than Eddings. And it would be a mistake to believe that all fantasy can be measured along that same spectrum, or that none can succeed in balancing the two. I believe that Charles de Lint's Newford books are stories are a great contender for the prize, blending vivid characters and troubling realism with a fantasy world I'd love to explore.

For my own writing, I think I'll want to decide from the very beginning whether I want to walk the line, or take the story in one direction or another. My worry is that I will try the balancing act, and I will fail, and the result will be more of the usual insipid fantasy prose.