G.P. Francis's Blog
April 14, 2014
EPOCH Online - the Fundraising Campaign!
Just 6 days to go on the EPOCH Indiegogo campaign: 2% contribution raised - only 98% to go! It's never too late....
February 19, 2014
EPOCH Indiegogo Campaign
The crowd funding campaign has gone live! Check out the link:
http://igg.me/at/epoch/x/2526643
for more details on EPOCH, the MMORPG video game based on science fiction novel, Primed.
http://igg.me/at/epoch/x/2526643
for more details on EPOCH, the MMORPG video game based on science fiction novel, Primed.
February 18, 2014
Indiegogo Campaign for EPOCH
Click on the link:
http://www.indiegogo.com/project/prev...
for more information about EPOCH, a videogame spin-off from my novel, Primed. We should be ready to launch the campaign in a few days, so there's still time to make a few changes: let me know what you think.
http://www.indiegogo.com/project/prev...
for more information about EPOCH, a videogame spin-off from my novel, Primed. We should be ready to launch the campaign in a few days, so there's still time to make a few changes: let me know what you think.
October 7, 2013
“Hard Science-fiction (SFH) Is Like Chili (Or Maybe Porridge),” “SFH Fans Are Like New Yorkers, (Or Maybe Goldilocks, Or Even Sherlock Holmes, the Godfather of SFH)” “The SFH Reader As Post Modern Folk-Audience Participant,” and Other Wild Statements
I recently read an article written by J.M. Frey (and posted a reply – this is a slightly reworded and extended version), author of SF novel Triptych, claiming that hard science-fiction (SFH) is often ‘terribly written’, with a tendency to include what seem to be a series of lecture-like expositions and technical details that detract from the all-important stuff-and-guts of the story, breaking up the narrative to the extent that the reader is effectively ‘jarred’ out of the immersion needed to sustain a reader’s interest in the material. The author remarks that criticism of soft SF (SFS) as being ‘unrealistic’ is unfair; that SF should not be judged solely on realism but rather on the more traditional, literary criteria used to determine a ‘good story’ as she sees it, i.e. the subjective aesthetics of the narrative.
I found that complaint to be somewhat bemusing since, as far as I am aware SFH is identifiable by that very same preponderance of scientific or technical detail, and/or accuracy or consistency with current scientific theories. SFH authors utilise those long, technical expositions as an immersive element in the story. The extent to which this is appreciated lies in what one person finds immersive compared with another.
The sliding scale of ‘soft’ to ‘hard’ in SF is useful for characterising the style of story-telling employed, with ‘hardest’ describing the heavy employment of realism and technical/scientific detail, perhaps to the point where the details are central to the plot, and ‘softest’ describing a novel barely distinguishable from a work of fantasy, except for the presence of other SF tropes such as a futuristic setting or hi-tech devices, where the science underpinning the technology goes entirely unexplained and may as well work ‘by magic’. There’s no definitive line separating the two: most SF contains both hard and soft elements.
Many people, SFH fans included (yes, me too!), comfortably read SFS along with other genres that don’t display the scientific/technical detail and rigour of SFH. However, not all SF fans appreciate the hard variety. It’s like chili. Not all dishes call for the use of the spice. When one orders one that does, personal taste dictates how much one will tolerate on the palate. Some like it hot. Some don’t. Believe it or not, scientific rigour and consistency, along with those lengthy ‘lectures’ SFH is known for are required by some readers to maintain credibility, without which they would disengage from the story no matter how ‘well-written’ it might otherwise be. From this perspective, a ‘good’ story is one the reader can believe in consistently from beginning to end, without at some point being jarred from the narrative to conclude “What nonsense: that could never happen!”
‘Story-telling’ shouldn’t be confined to any particular format or formula: it’s important to remember that readers are incredibly diverse, and each is receptive to (or rejective of) different styles of story-telling. I know of readers who will not touch fiction of any sort, on the grounds that “It’s all made up – what’s the point?” At the other end of the spectrum are readers who effortlessly suspend disbelief to enjoy the most whimsical flights of fancy without caring for a consistent plot, correct spelling or grammar, let alone ingenious literary devices, as long as the story provides adequate entertainment or titillation from one moment to the next.
I don’t think most readers necessarily equate ‘realistic’ science-fiction with ‘good’ science-fiction, as attested by the huge fan bases acquired by the Star Trek and Star Wars franchises. Plenty of readers still seem willing to suspend disbelief for a grand old space opera or some silver-suited swashbuckling. Furthermore, there’s quite a gulf between what different people find ‘believable’. Star Trek, in particular, seems to squeak by with some well-placed techno-babble to confound the unwary, just as long as it ‘sounds like it might be scientific’.
However, there does appear to be a growing trend favouring realism, not just in SF, but in all SF&F, so perhaps it’s fair to say that more and more readers are being ‘turned off’ by unrealistic fiction. But, if one story has been criticised for being too soft, another has been criticised for being too ‘hard’. It could even have been by the same reader! In which case, SF is like porridge, and the reader, like Goldilocks, must decide which bowl is ‘juuuuust right’.
Story-telling is an art, undoubtedly, but part of that art is in relating the tale to the audience, and there is not one audience for a story, but as many audiences as there are individual readers. As Kurt Vonnegut says, “Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.” I believe intentionally SFH writers are catering to a minority group of scientifically well-versed and technically inclined readers, and that is perhaps why the style might seem jarring to those that do not relate to it. If we rewind the western story-telling tradition to its oral, bardic roots we find that it was once a strictly performance art. Part of that tradition, much like modern stand-up comedy, must account for the ‘room’ or the ‘crowd’, with the understanding that some rooms/crowds are ‘tougher’ than others to please. The appreciators of SFH are akin to the ‘tough room’, like the New York crowd to stand-up comics, in that they’ve seen it all before, and know at least as much about the subject as the writer. Whilst reading, they typically participate in what is fondly referred to as ‘the game’, perhaps with reference to Sherlock Holmes’ enthusiastic and Shakespearean (there’s that ‘bardic’ reference, again) cry, “The game is afoot!” wherein the reader evaluates the technical and scientific elements of the story according to the extent of their own expertise. The relative worth of a story is similarly judged according to the reader’s own depth of knowledge, which makes every SFH reader an authoritative critic, and often more main-stream criteria of literary quality are seen as being of secondary importance compared to the scientific rigour and consistency present within the story.
With the penning of Frankenstein, Mary Shelley arguably became the mother of SF. Holmes (being a fictional character) cannot be described as a father of SF, hard or otherwise, by any stretch of the imagination. But the character, as conceived by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, lends his spiritual guidance, his analytical approach and drive to arrive at the truth, to the reader. This makes him more like a godfather to SFH, a role model whose spirit is to be emulated by the reader. In a sense, and I think this might be a large part of its appeal, SFH casts the reader in the role of the famous consulting detective, with the results of the ensuing fiercely logical forensic examination determining whether he or she becomes immersed by the realism and believability of the story, or disengaged by inconsistent or inaccurate suppositions by the writer.
If the story fails the acid test, there seems to be an extra, SFH cultural imperative to proclaim the conclusion, sometimes publicly. It’s audience participation; it’s heckling; it’s the oral tradition conveyed into post-modern literature, where the reader’s interpretation is just as valid as the author’s intended meaning; it bears the tall tale-decrying, axe-hurling spirit of the mediaeval mead hall, and of the insult and rotten fruit-hurling groundlings in Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre.
The only way to avoid the ‘slings and arrows’ (or axes, or rotten tomatoes) of authoritative, SFH-loving reader/critics is to get real.
I found that complaint to be somewhat bemusing since, as far as I am aware SFH is identifiable by that very same preponderance of scientific or technical detail, and/or accuracy or consistency with current scientific theories. SFH authors utilise those long, technical expositions as an immersive element in the story. The extent to which this is appreciated lies in what one person finds immersive compared with another.
The sliding scale of ‘soft’ to ‘hard’ in SF is useful for characterising the style of story-telling employed, with ‘hardest’ describing the heavy employment of realism and technical/scientific detail, perhaps to the point where the details are central to the plot, and ‘softest’ describing a novel barely distinguishable from a work of fantasy, except for the presence of other SF tropes such as a futuristic setting or hi-tech devices, where the science underpinning the technology goes entirely unexplained and may as well work ‘by magic’. There’s no definitive line separating the two: most SF contains both hard and soft elements.
Many people, SFH fans included (yes, me too!), comfortably read SFS along with other genres that don’t display the scientific/technical detail and rigour of SFH. However, not all SF fans appreciate the hard variety. It’s like chili. Not all dishes call for the use of the spice. When one orders one that does, personal taste dictates how much one will tolerate on the palate. Some like it hot. Some don’t. Believe it or not, scientific rigour and consistency, along with those lengthy ‘lectures’ SFH is known for are required by some readers to maintain credibility, without which they would disengage from the story no matter how ‘well-written’ it might otherwise be. From this perspective, a ‘good’ story is one the reader can believe in consistently from beginning to end, without at some point being jarred from the narrative to conclude “What nonsense: that could never happen!”
‘Story-telling’ shouldn’t be confined to any particular format or formula: it’s important to remember that readers are incredibly diverse, and each is receptive to (or rejective of) different styles of story-telling. I know of readers who will not touch fiction of any sort, on the grounds that “It’s all made up – what’s the point?” At the other end of the spectrum are readers who effortlessly suspend disbelief to enjoy the most whimsical flights of fancy without caring for a consistent plot, correct spelling or grammar, let alone ingenious literary devices, as long as the story provides adequate entertainment or titillation from one moment to the next.
I don’t think most readers necessarily equate ‘realistic’ science-fiction with ‘good’ science-fiction, as attested by the huge fan bases acquired by the Star Trek and Star Wars franchises. Plenty of readers still seem willing to suspend disbelief for a grand old space opera or some silver-suited swashbuckling. Furthermore, there’s quite a gulf between what different people find ‘believable’. Star Trek, in particular, seems to squeak by with some well-placed techno-babble to confound the unwary, just as long as it ‘sounds like it might be scientific’.
However, there does appear to be a growing trend favouring realism, not just in SF, but in all SF&F, so perhaps it’s fair to say that more and more readers are being ‘turned off’ by unrealistic fiction. But, if one story has been criticised for being too soft, another has been criticised for being too ‘hard’. It could even have been by the same reader! In which case, SF is like porridge, and the reader, like Goldilocks, must decide which bowl is ‘juuuuust right’.
Story-telling is an art, undoubtedly, but part of that art is in relating the tale to the audience, and there is not one audience for a story, but as many audiences as there are individual readers. As Kurt Vonnegut says, “Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.” I believe intentionally SFH writers are catering to a minority group of scientifically well-versed and technically inclined readers, and that is perhaps why the style might seem jarring to those that do not relate to it. If we rewind the western story-telling tradition to its oral, bardic roots we find that it was once a strictly performance art. Part of that tradition, much like modern stand-up comedy, must account for the ‘room’ or the ‘crowd’, with the understanding that some rooms/crowds are ‘tougher’ than others to please. The appreciators of SFH are akin to the ‘tough room’, like the New York crowd to stand-up comics, in that they’ve seen it all before, and know at least as much about the subject as the writer. Whilst reading, they typically participate in what is fondly referred to as ‘the game’, perhaps with reference to Sherlock Holmes’ enthusiastic and Shakespearean (there’s that ‘bardic’ reference, again) cry, “The game is afoot!” wherein the reader evaluates the technical and scientific elements of the story according to the extent of their own expertise. The relative worth of a story is similarly judged according to the reader’s own depth of knowledge, which makes every SFH reader an authoritative critic, and often more main-stream criteria of literary quality are seen as being of secondary importance compared to the scientific rigour and consistency present within the story.
With the penning of Frankenstein, Mary Shelley arguably became the mother of SF. Holmes (being a fictional character) cannot be described as a father of SF, hard or otherwise, by any stretch of the imagination. But the character, as conceived by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, lends his spiritual guidance, his analytical approach and drive to arrive at the truth, to the reader. This makes him more like a godfather to SFH, a role model whose spirit is to be emulated by the reader. In a sense, and I think this might be a large part of its appeal, SFH casts the reader in the role of the famous consulting detective, with the results of the ensuing fiercely logical forensic examination determining whether he or she becomes immersed by the realism and believability of the story, or disengaged by inconsistent or inaccurate suppositions by the writer.
If the story fails the acid test, there seems to be an extra, SFH cultural imperative to proclaim the conclusion, sometimes publicly. It’s audience participation; it’s heckling; it’s the oral tradition conveyed into post-modern literature, where the reader’s interpretation is just as valid as the author’s intended meaning; it bears the tall tale-decrying, axe-hurling spirit of the mediaeval mead hall, and of the insult and rotten fruit-hurling groundlings in Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre.
The only way to avoid the ‘slings and arrows’ (or axes, or rotten tomatoes) of authoritative, SFH-loving reader/critics is to get real.
September 13, 2013
Win Free Paperbacks Through Story Cartel
Download your review copy and submit an honest review for a chance to win a free paperback edition of Primed, by G P Francis.
For more details, visit:
http://storycartel.com/books/250/primed/
For more details, visit:
http://storycartel.com/books/250/primed/
September 10, 2013
Is there really a difference between 'Genre Fiction' and 'Literature'?
Our post modern culture expects double coding from any creative artist, these days. It's no longer considered sufficient to create writing of literary value alone: it must also satisfy the popular demand for entertainment. As a creative writer, it's important to understand the nature of the times and the consumer expectations of the finished product. Or just write for the love of it, without expectations of either popular or critical acclaim!
I do make a distinction, though, between writing that is entertaining and writing that attempts to emulate audio-visual entertainment. It's a lamentable fact that TV/cinema is a more popular form of entertainment than reading at this point in western society, and the 'Show, Don't Tell' maxim is the most obvious manifestation in the literary sphere of the audio-visual sensory bias that has been promoted.
I like movies. And I like books. But I don't want or expect books to be more like movies, nor movies more like books. They're distinct media, with their own strengths and weaknesses for creative expression. We should let them both flower in their own ideal environments if we're to get the best from each. That means we have to tolerate the use of balanced exposition in literature (which I would define, in this case, as any and all written works, especially, but not only, those considered of superior or lasting artistic merit). By all means, 'Show' me. But feel free to 'Tell' me a bit, too. How far would Tolkien, with his love of exposition, get in today's publishing environment if he were an unknown novelist? Here's an interesting article on the subject:
http://www.lbgale.com/2012/04/29/five...
I also disagree with the automatic distinction some make between literature and genre fiction. The dictionary definition of 'literature' makes no such distinction, and it's a mistake to use it that way, albeit a popular mistake (as with the use of 'literally' when used figuratively). It would be of greater value in this post modern, double coding age to apply a grading or rating system to each work, providing a rough measure of popular appeal, combined with reviews by industry professionals and intellectual readers able to perceive and explain the distinction between a book's entertainment value and its artistic merit. This would help readers make their selection based on their preference of reading for entertainment or reading for artistic merit, or a balance of the two, as is most often the case. Funnily enough, this is almost what we get in the online marketplaces and consumer review sites. Almost....
I do make a distinction, though, between writing that is entertaining and writing that attempts to emulate audio-visual entertainment. It's a lamentable fact that TV/cinema is a more popular form of entertainment than reading at this point in western society, and the 'Show, Don't Tell' maxim is the most obvious manifestation in the literary sphere of the audio-visual sensory bias that has been promoted.
I like movies. And I like books. But I don't want or expect books to be more like movies, nor movies more like books. They're distinct media, with their own strengths and weaknesses for creative expression. We should let them both flower in their own ideal environments if we're to get the best from each. That means we have to tolerate the use of balanced exposition in literature (which I would define, in this case, as any and all written works, especially, but not only, those considered of superior or lasting artistic merit). By all means, 'Show' me. But feel free to 'Tell' me a bit, too. How far would Tolkien, with his love of exposition, get in today's publishing environment if he were an unknown novelist? Here's an interesting article on the subject:
http://www.lbgale.com/2012/04/29/five...
I also disagree with the automatic distinction some make between literature and genre fiction. The dictionary definition of 'literature' makes no such distinction, and it's a mistake to use it that way, albeit a popular mistake (as with the use of 'literally' when used figuratively). It would be of greater value in this post modern, double coding age to apply a grading or rating system to each work, providing a rough measure of popular appeal, combined with reviews by industry professionals and intellectual readers able to perceive and explain the distinction between a book's entertainment value and its artistic merit. This would help readers make their selection based on their preference of reading for entertainment or reading for artistic merit, or a balance of the two, as is most often the case. Funnily enough, this is almost what we get in the online marketplaces and consumer review sites. Almost....
August 20, 2013
Should Good Movies Be More Like Books, and/or Good Books Be More Like Movies?
I believe they should both be true to themselves. Each has its own merits and shortcomings as a medium of expression, and neither benefits by attempting to become more like another medium. Movies striving to remain 'true' to the book they're based on is a different matter, more to do with plot and dialogue consistency during crossover than any literary aspirations.
Regardless of the medium, there is often a gulf between what attains mass popularity (and commercial success) and what the authoritative critics within that medium regard as estimable. Any big budget motion picture, even if its director sets sights on academy award nomination, holds entertainment as its primary objective. A significant financial investment is expected to yield an impressive return from an industry standpoint.
With their significantly lower production costs, the same may not be true of fiction novels, which more frequently place literary value above entertainment value. However, this is certainly not always the case: there are authors who unashamedly and unapologetically place entertainment-value as the highest or even only ideal worth pursuing within fiction writing, and have achieved great commercial success as a result. For example, Stephen King, who many regard as a great and critically acclaimed writer, describes James Patterson's contributions as "...dopey thrillers," yet JP is not that far behind SK in terms of estimated sales figures (and roughly on a par with Robert Ludlum).
JP, and those that have worked with him as ghostwriters, describe how entertainment-focused his writing process is, leaving no room for what others might perceive as literary value. As a result, he's able to craft a product that has mass appeal and sells well, but departs considerably from conventions and norms within fiction writing: his page-turners have unusually short chapters, each with a cliffhanger ending. The formula has more in common with script-writing for serial cliffhanger theater that proved popular around the WWII period (before TV ownership became commonplace), such as Flash Gordon and The Rocket Man.
When I watch a movie I tend to do so with awareness of the relative strengths and weaknesses of that medium in mind; the director has my attention for only a few hours (or less, if it's a BAD MOVIE!), and I expect more concentrated and visceral entertainment than I would from an equivalent time spent reading. I don't expect the same degree of thought-provocation, sophistication, story-line intricacy or sentence-structural ingenuity that I would from a book.
To be fair, I've been disappointed (and pleased!) by an equal share of both movies and novels.
The most unfortunate trend in literature, in my opinion, is the extent of concession made to the TV and film medium, as evidenced in the growing popularity of the 'Show, Don't Tell' maxim amongst writers. A book should be free to remain a book, with all the strengths and weaknesses associated with that medium of artistic expression, and not feel pressured by societal tendencies to become more like scripted TV shows and movies. Certainly, TV shows and movies are a more popular form of entertainment, now, than reading, but that doesn't mean a book has to read like a movie in order for anyone to get any enjoyment out of reading it. I believe a writer should feel free to 'Tell' if they wish to do so. Tolkien certainly did a lot of 'telling', and I find his books as enjoyable to read as an adult as I did as a child.
In post-modern culture, double-coding is expected of any estimable work so that it pleases both the masses and the medium's authoritative critics. In the case of movies, this is best observed in the string of animated family movies, from Shrek to Wreck It Ralph, where there is scripted appeal for children and parents alike. I'd like to think a book can still succeed in this dual objective without conceding to the dominance of visual culture promoted by the popular success of TV and motion pictures. 'Show, don't tell' reviles exposition as a manifestation of the rising dominance of audio-visual entertainment in our sensory culture. If the trend continues, there'll be declining tolerance of exposition in literature. It would be regrettable if writers were to throw such a powerful tool - one of the four of the most common rhetorical modes, along with argumentation, description, and narration - out of their box for fear of losing popular appeal: there should always be a place for the use of balanced exposition within a story. Let books remain books, not be reduced to something less by a perceived need for comparison with and concession to more popular forms of entertainment. We already know that 'Video Killed the Radio Star'; I hope books aren't next on the hit-list. If so, then perhaps painters should consider animating their work....
Regardless of the medium, there is often a gulf between what attains mass popularity (and commercial success) and what the authoritative critics within that medium regard as estimable. Any big budget motion picture, even if its director sets sights on academy award nomination, holds entertainment as its primary objective. A significant financial investment is expected to yield an impressive return from an industry standpoint.
With their significantly lower production costs, the same may not be true of fiction novels, which more frequently place literary value above entertainment value. However, this is certainly not always the case: there are authors who unashamedly and unapologetically place entertainment-value as the highest or even only ideal worth pursuing within fiction writing, and have achieved great commercial success as a result. For example, Stephen King, who many regard as a great and critically acclaimed writer, describes James Patterson's contributions as "...dopey thrillers," yet JP is not that far behind SK in terms of estimated sales figures (and roughly on a par with Robert Ludlum).
JP, and those that have worked with him as ghostwriters, describe how entertainment-focused his writing process is, leaving no room for what others might perceive as literary value. As a result, he's able to craft a product that has mass appeal and sells well, but departs considerably from conventions and norms within fiction writing: his page-turners have unusually short chapters, each with a cliffhanger ending. The formula has more in common with script-writing for serial cliffhanger theater that proved popular around the WWII period (before TV ownership became commonplace), such as Flash Gordon and The Rocket Man.
When I watch a movie I tend to do so with awareness of the relative strengths and weaknesses of that medium in mind; the director has my attention for only a few hours (or less, if it's a BAD MOVIE!), and I expect more concentrated and visceral entertainment than I would from an equivalent time spent reading. I don't expect the same degree of thought-provocation, sophistication, story-line intricacy or sentence-structural ingenuity that I would from a book.
To be fair, I've been disappointed (and pleased!) by an equal share of both movies and novels.
The most unfortunate trend in literature, in my opinion, is the extent of concession made to the TV and film medium, as evidenced in the growing popularity of the 'Show, Don't Tell' maxim amongst writers. A book should be free to remain a book, with all the strengths and weaknesses associated with that medium of artistic expression, and not feel pressured by societal tendencies to become more like scripted TV shows and movies. Certainly, TV shows and movies are a more popular form of entertainment, now, than reading, but that doesn't mean a book has to read like a movie in order for anyone to get any enjoyment out of reading it. I believe a writer should feel free to 'Tell' if they wish to do so. Tolkien certainly did a lot of 'telling', and I find his books as enjoyable to read as an adult as I did as a child.
In post-modern culture, double-coding is expected of any estimable work so that it pleases both the masses and the medium's authoritative critics. In the case of movies, this is best observed in the string of animated family movies, from Shrek to Wreck It Ralph, where there is scripted appeal for children and parents alike. I'd like to think a book can still succeed in this dual objective without conceding to the dominance of visual culture promoted by the popular success of TV and motion pictures. 'Show, don't tell' reviles exposition as a manifestation of the rising dominance of audio-visual entertainment in our sensory culture. If the trend continues, there'll be declining tolerance of exposition in literature. It would be regrettable if writers were to throw such a powerful tool - one of the four of the most common rhetorical modes, along with argumentation, description, and narration - out of their box for fear of losing popular appeal: there should always be a place for the use of balanced exposition within a story. Let books remain books, not be reduced to something less by a perceived need for comparison with and concession to more popular forms of entertainment. We already know that 'Video Killed the Radio Star'; I hope books aren't next on the hit-list. If so, then perhaps painters should consider animating their work....
July 29, 2013
Utopian vs Dystopian Fiction
Firstly, let's be clear: we're talking about 'SF'. Oh, yes, we are! If, like Margaret Atwood, the notion that the 'S' stands for 'Science' makes you uncomfortable then feel free to substitute in 'Speculative', instead. It won't change a thing. Except, perhaps, the demographics of your readership....
The Star Trek milieu is a good example of contemporary, utopian fiction: Star Fleet and the Federation depict accomplishments of philosophical and socio-economic ideals. Federation characters represent those striving to become the best person they can be, with their only reward being the sense of achievement itself, since money no longer exists. All socio-economic concerns are resolved within Federation society. The conflict comes from other cultures that have not achieved the Federation's depicted level of 'enlightenment', e.g. Klingons, Romulans, Ferengi, etc. each of which represents a perceived shortcoming manifest in people of our own world and time (Star Trek is sci-fi, so comparison with contemporary societies is to be expected), e.g. militarism, racist imperialism, and mercantilism and misogyny, respectively. Another source of conflict is often character-based, revealing the struggle of personal refinement and the human condition.
Because the stories are usually about a bunch of people roaming around in space, and their epic-scaled exploits, Star Trek (along with Star Wars) falls into the often-derided sub-genre of 'Space Opera'. I think that may be because, as others have suggested, there's really not much else to write about within a utopian setting other than the fantastic exploits of the utopian citizens, once you've outlined the milieu.
The Star Trek style of utopia, where the advancement of technology and pursuit of scientific understanding is portrayed as leading to an ideal society, is out of favour with a majority of contemporary readers because this degree of optimism in the perceived benefits of advancing science and technology is not shared by most people, who widely acknowledge that these advances, whilst they may make life easier for some, or improve safety, efficiency, etc. have come to create problems of their own: cultural homogeneity, socio-economic inequality, virtual disconnection of people from their community, and the speculated links with child and violent crime incidents, suicide rates, mental and physical illnesses, etc. Readers are generally better educated and globally aware than ever, and our higher sophistication demands more realistic and convincing depictions and explanations in fiction.
A dystopian setting, on the other hand, often offers far more thought-provoking comparisons with our own society. As a result, the setting itself can produce the conflict that makes the writing interesting enough to bother reading it in the first place, and the actions of the characters within it as they struggle against (or simply within) the system add further interest. I believe dystopia is the most valuable tool of science-fiction (or 'speculative fiction' for those uncomfortable with the idea that they are writing or reading sci-fi), inviting comparison with our own world and lifestyle, pointing out (preferably as subtly as possible, without too obvious an agenda on the author's part) the pitfalls that await us in the future if we don't strive now to change the direction our society is taking.
When dystopian literature evolved from modernism to postmodernism, it was no longer acceptable for the author to simply impress his or her personal views or beliefs upon the postmodern reader. Now, the expectation is that the reader is sufficiently perspicacious to arrive at their own interpretation of and conclusion about the text, and that this is just as valid as the author's intended meaning. The story is expected to be both entertaining, at a light reading level, and offer ontological insights at a deeper level. As far as I’m concerned, that’s good news for readers: postmodernisms predilection for double coding just provides a better quality of information to be digested, per novel, than your average, utopian Space Opera could muster. Which is not to say there's no such thing as postmodern utopia....
The Star Trek milieu is a good example of contemporary, utopian fiction: Star Fleet and the Federation depict accomplishments of philosophical and socio-economic ideals. Federation characters represent those striving to become the best person they can be, with their only reward being the sense of achievement itself, since money no longer exists. All socio-economic concerns are resolved within Federation society. The conflict comes from other cultures that have not achieved the Federation's depicted level of 'enlightenment', e.g. Klingons, Romulans, Ferengi, etc. each of which represents a perceived shortcoming manifest in people of our own world and time (Star Trek is sci-fi, so comparison with contemporary societies is to be expected), e.g. militarism, racist imperialism, and mercantilism and misogyny, respectively. Another source of conflict is often character-based, revealing the struggle of personal refinement and the human condition.
Because the stories are usually about a bunch of people roaming around in space, and their epic-scaled exploits, Star Trek (along with Star Wars) falls into the often-derided sub-genre of 'Space Opera'. I think that may be because, as others have suggested, there's really not much else to write about within a utopian setting other than the fantastic exploits of the utopian citizens, once you've outlined the milieu.
The Star Trek style of utopia, where the advancement of technology and pursuit of scientific understanding is portrayed as leading to an ideal society, is out of favour with a majority of contemporary readers because this degree of optimism in the perceived benefits of advancing science and technology is not shared by most people, who widely acknowledge that these advances, whilst they may make life easier for some, or improve safety, efficiency, etc. have come to create problems of their own: cultural homogeneity, socio-economic inequality, virtual disconnection of people from their community, and the speculated links with child and violent crime incidents, suicide rates, mental and physical illnesses, etc. Readers are generally better educated and globally aware than ever, and our higher sophistication demands more realistic and convincing depictions and explanations in fiction.
A dystopian setting, on the other hand, often offers far more thought-provoking comparisons with our own society. As a result, the setting itself can produce the conflict that makes the writing interesting enough to bother reading it in the first place, and the actions of the characters within it as they struggle against (or simply within) the system add further interest. I believe dystopia is the most valuable tool of science-fiction (or 'speculative fiction' for those uncomfortable with the idea that they are writing or reading sci-fi), inviting comparison with our own world and lifestyle, pointing out (preferably as subtly as possible, without too obvious an agenda on the author's part) the pitfalls that await us in the future if we don't strive now to change the direction our society is taking.
When dystopian literature evolved from modernism to postmodernism, it was no longer acceptable for the author to simply impress his or her personal views or beliefs upon the postmodern reader. Now, the expectation is that the reader is sufficiently perspicacious to arrive at their own interpretation of and conclusion about the text, and that this is just as valid as the author's intended meaning. The story is expected to be both entertaining, at a light reading level, and offer ontological insights at a deeper level. As far as I’m concerned, that’s good news for readers: postmodernisms predilection for double coding just provides a better quality of information to be digested, per novel, than your average, utopian Space Opera could muster. Which is not to say there's no such thing as postmodern utopia....
May 16, 2013
20% off paperbacks at author's e-store
For a short time, Primed may be purchased directly from its Amazon-affiliated CreateSpace e-store:
https://www.createspace.com/4184914
at a 20% discount, using the author's discount code:
SD2X6792
CreateSpace provides international shipping and secure payment purchasing.
https://www.createspace.com/4184914
at a 20% discount, using the author's discount code:
SD2X6792
CreateSpace provides international shipping and secure payment purchasing.
Beta-reader phase finished on Primed
Thanks to all the beta-readers who provided feedback on the novel. Primed has now moved out of its beta-reader phase into its finished format, just in time for the first set of Kindle Free Days on Amazon (May 18-19).
Although there have been over a hundred adjustments and edits, and over a 1,500 word increase to the overall length of the novel, adding depth to the O.A.C.I. military culture, the main change is to the paperback edition. Its double line spaced layout for editors is replaced by single line spacing for readers. This has brought the overall printed page length down considerably, from 430 to 250 pages, reducing printing costs, accordingly. To reflect the better value a new, lower price for paperback copies of the book has been set. Best value can still be obtained via my website, using the new discount code to buy directly from my Amazon-affiliated CreateSpace e-store.
Although there have been over a hundred adjustments and edits, and over a 1,500 word increase to the overall length of the novel, adding depth to the O.A.C.I. military culture, the main change is to the paperback edition. Its double line spaced layout for editors is replaced by single line spacing for readers. This has brought the overall printed page length down considerably, from 430 to 250 pages, reducing printing costs, accordingly. To reflect the better value a new, lower price for paperback copies of the book has been set. Best value can still be obtained via my website, using the new discount code to buy directly from my Amazon-affiliated CreateSpace e-store.
