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Aetherica ’09

So I’m due to be a guest of honour at a new Fantasy Convention next year, called Aetherica, to be held in Chester, June 19th-21st. Peter Beagle, of The Last Unicorn fame, is currently the other Guest of Honour. Not sure what my involvement will consist of, but I’m guessing probably a Q&A; of some description and perhaps even some kind of reading, probably with powerful hand gestures. Plus presumably contributing my ignorance to various panels…

Anyway, further details on their website, and more as I learn it.

Misogynist? Moi?

Came back from a few days away down in Bath to an interesting pair of posts from King Rat. It all began as a diffusely positive review of Before They are Hanged (though of course, nothing like as positive as I’d like), and then ended up accusing me of hardcore sexism. Perhaps I exaggerate. You be the judge. If you are minded to read on, beware of some very minor spoilers for the series:

“I do have something to say about the female characters in the book though. The word that comes to mind when I think about them is misogynistic. I know it’s a loaded word to throw out there, but I can’t think of anything else.”

Ouch. Misogynistic? Woman-hating? Bringing to mind as it does images of bible-thumping pro-lifers, hardcore sharia law and brutalist rappers, yes, that certainly is a pretty loaded–

“The vast majority of the characters in the book are male. Contrast that with Lois McMaster Bujold’s Paladin of Souls which I didn’t like all that much, but which included many female characters. I can think of only four in this book, three of them minor.”

Well, true, there aren’t that many women. The First Law was an attempt to do a retake on the classic fantasy trilogy, and epic fantasy, taking its cue from Tolkien, does tend to focus heavily on men, the women often restricted to the love interests of said men. Perhaps that makes it, in some ways, a fundamentally sexist genre, but it’s not unlike war films or westerns in that sense, or romances in the opposite direction, I guess, and I’d argue it’s more about the treatment of the individuals involved than the numbers. But by all means let’s have a look at the female characters one by–

“The one to get the second most screen time is Cathil, who serves little purpose except as a semen receptacle. One of the big parts of Ferro’s character is similar, she’s a former slave/prostitute who must shut out a life of being used sexually and uses that to fuel her rage. Female character three is West’s sister Ardee. While not a bimbo, she spends the entire book waiting for her male saviors. Practical Vitari is a pain-loving torturer list her co-workers. But, minor and unimportant spoiler here, she’s revealed to have a soft spot for her multiple children. All four women defined by very stereotypical attributes.”

Ouch. Granted, Ferro and Cathil both have histories of sexual oppression. Cathil suffers some during the second book. But if you’re going to look at the experience of female slaves, or of female convicts in penal colonies, or of women caught up in war, unless you want to avoid any sexual element whatsoever (which seems to me cowardly in an adult book) there’s really nowhere else to go and remain (to my mind) honest and convincing, which is always my prime aim. What is the alternative here that would make these characters “non-misogynistic”? That Ferro should be a well-adjusted, unmolested escaped slave? That Cathil should have been through incarceration equivalent to the Siberian Gulag without any event, then walked among a gang of sex-starved barbarians for a few weeks without it ever coming up that there’s a woman in their midst?

Ardee is forced to wait for male saviors because of her position in society. That may be stereotyped, but I don’t know that she’s necessarily “defined by that stereotypical position”. Could the same not be said for every female character in Pride and Prejudice? Are they, therefore, misogynist stereotypes? The argument seems particularly weak when used about Vitari. What, she’s got children that she cares for, so she must be a female stereotype, even if she’s a hard-bitten torturer? Mr. Rat doesn’t mention Carlot dan Eider at all, incidentally, who’s probably the most important woman besides Ferro in Before They are Hanged, and the only significant female in the books with considerable temporal power. Perhaps she should be considered stereotyped because she was once forced into an arranged marriage, though, I don’t know?

“An argument can be made that anything modeled on Medieval times should follow Medieval culture, a very patriarchal one. But if we get to build a fantastic world, one with majic and invented geographies and societies created from the mind, could we not discard the typical female roles for a while?”

Perhaps we could, but if we do, I think there’s a price to be paid in the relevance and realism of the invented world. I wanted to do something that was honest, that was truthful, that was firmly rooted in historical reality, becuase for me those are the fantasy worlds that I find most convincing, most concrete. I don’t personally have much use for the argument, “this is fantasy, so we can do anything we like.” I think it encourages some of the genre’s most lazy, shoddy, unimaginative excesses. Since I wanted The First Law in a way to be a re-examination of classic epic fantasy, and classic epic fantasy takes place in a pre-industrial, patriarchal world, that’s the backdrop I went for. And I would point out, as Scott Bakker has often done in response to similar accusations, that examination is by no means endorsement.

It’s funny. I haven’t read Scott Lynch’s Red Seas Under Red Skies, but I have noticed him getting quite a lot of stick for the exact opposite treatment of women (though one presumes from a different section of the readership) – he has a pretty ‘equal opportunities’ fantasy world in which there are a lot of woman soldiers, bodyguards, pirates, and so on. He’s been taken to task by a fair few readers for this being unrealistic, unconvincing, an imposition of PC modern values onto a medieval/rennaisance fantasy world. I guess this is one issue, as with so many in writing, where you’re pretty much damned in someone’s eyes whatever you do. Unless your world and characters are utterly bland and hence of interest to no-one, you’ll always be offending someone’s sensibilities.

If you’re a man, in general, it’s harder to write female characters than male ones. Fact. The book I’m currently writing has a woman in the central role, and I don’t mind admitting it’s a challenge. You can say – you should approach the women just like you do the men – and by and large that’s what I try to do, but men and women aren’t identical, physically or socially, and there will always be elements of the female experience that you’re guessing at. That tends to make you tentative, perhaps, especially when you know you’ll never get accused of being sexist in relation to your male characters, but you almost certainly will at some point in relation to your female ones. Back to Mr. Rat, who’s been thorough enough to post some additional thoughts:

“When a writer falls back on typical whore roles such as Joe Abercrombie or female as victim as Lauren Weisberger did, I think it reflects either laziness or a lack of imagination. Even if the character is a strong one such as Ferro is, when her strength is based on a reaction to common abused roles of women, there isn’t much stretching involved. Sometimes there’s a point needing to be made about women, their roles, or abuse, and sometimes these roles just work best in a story. But too often it just feels like a paint-by-numbers scene. That irritates me, especially in these cases. Do I know that’s what Joe Abercrombie did? No. Another reader might easily have a different take on these characters.”

The First Law is a series, like most epic fantasy, mostly about men, and so the women tend to be seen in terms of their relationships with those men. Perhaps a certain theme of sexual oppression did creep in without my noticing. Perhaps the women weren’t my deepest or most succesful characters, that’s not for me to say, and I think it’s always a risk for a male writer. But “misogynist”? “Typical
whore roles”? “Semen receptacle“? Seriously? That’s strong, man, that’s pretty damn strong. “Another reader might easily have a different take on these characters,” apparently. Pray God that is the case. Answers below, please…

EDIT (Feb 2012):  Hmmm.  I’ve just reread this post some four years after making it and, well, I hope I’ve learned a few things since.  In fact I find it more than a wee bit embarrassing now.  I’d kind of like to kick it in the bin, pretend it never happened, but I should let it stand as a monument to what was a probably inevitable knee-jerk reaction to being called out on this kind of stuff for the first time.  Certainly with the benefit of hindsight I think I could have done a lot better with the female characters in the First Law in all kinds of ways.  These days I tend to think the best policy when faced with accusations (or maybe just reviews) of this kind is to take a deep breath, mouth shut and ears open, do my best to think about it dispassionately and consider if there’s anything to be learned.  In the end, all you can really alter is your own behaviour, and from my point of view that mostly means seeing how I can improve my writing…

Fantasy, RPGs, Innovation, and Bile

Ariel, the webmaster (which is what spiderman should really have called himself) of myself and several other authors, has drawn my attention to an interesting debate.

Mark Chadbourn a fellow Gollancz author and a very nice bloke has made a post about the impact of RPGs, particularly of the multiplayer on-line variety, on fantasy, and how the resulting leaking of fantasy concepts into the mainstream is making it more difficult for fantasy authors to be original, especially when these online worlds are more immersive, more detailed, beautifully realised down to every blade of grass.

“Fantasy authors – and all the thousands of would-be fantasy authors out there – need to wake up. They’re being squeezed out of the territory they have occupied for the last hundred years or so. They can no longer count on the fact that they’re the only visionaries in town, or the only explorers charting the fringes of the imagination. They’re being supplanted by a much more dynamic and agressive breed.”

I don’t find this worrying, myself. I’ve played a hell of a lot of computer games in my time, though not so much of the MMORPG variety. I enjoy them hugely, some probably have been an influence on the way I write. But they’re very different experiences from reading, and if they’ve increased the potential market for fantasy, I think that can only be a good thing.

These games are written by huge teams, with vast budgets, aimed at the biggest possible markets, and as a result usually are rather bland and cliched, taking as few risks as possible. I don’t think it’s too difficult for an author, who by the nature of his medium is free of the need to worry about every detail, to come up with something that offers a different experience. I think we, the fantasy authors, can find a way to co-exist with our every multiplying video-game brethren. There’s always a need for good writing, in video games as much as anywhere else.

It’s true that, with these games, and the Lord of the Rings movies too, the tropes of fantasy have become even more widely and instantly recognised. But to me, it’s precisely the familiarity of those tropes that is the point. When everyone’s expecting the same old same old, even small deviations can be interesting and surprising. In fact small deviations are especially interesting, because large ones break that sense of familiarity and leave the reader feeling disorientated, let down, and, often, bored.

Jonathan McCalmont responded over at his blog SF Diplomat, by turning the question on its head. I think it’s safe to say he’s not a fan of fantasy, particularly of the epic, post-Tolkein kind that we’re talking about here:

“The MMORPG market, much like the world of fantasy literature, is one that operates on the basis of narrowed horizons. In the world of console gaming, the lack of innovation has reached such a point that any change is treated as earth-shattering. The best example of this was a gun in Half-Life 2 that allowed you to lift things up at a distance. To my eyes this was a new swirl of icing on a cake largely unchanged since the days of doom, but to gamers everywhere it was an innovation.”

I totally agree. The first-person shooter is an area with way too little innovation, as the rather disappointing Bioshock seemed to me to prove. But it’s interesting that it’s also a genre of gaming that is even more overrun with the tropes of bland military sf than the RPG is overrun with the tropes of bland epic fantasy. I think video gaming as a whole is prone to the bland, but it’s nothing to do with an ‘infection’ by fantasy. Much more it’s because – as with the blandifying of movies – it’s becoming increasingly a corporate big business with vast teams and huge budgets, and that set-up does tend to push things in the direction of the mediocre. He goes on to say:

“The same lowered bar holds sway over innovation in the mainstream fantasy and RPG markets with any fresh deviation from Tolkienian roots seen as an innovation and sufficient grounds for fans of the new work to sneer at the fans of other works (this was something I learned from my run in with George R. R. Martin’s fans… to me the books appear to be yet more tales of battle, magic and great men but to the devoted fantasy fan these are worlds away from other works featuring battle, magic and great men).”

I’m not convinced he learned anything from that run-in with Martin’s fans apart from how to turn his comments off on potentially incendiary posts. This is exactly the same as claiming High Noon and Unforgiven are identical films because they both feature gunfights, six-shooters and sherriffs. They are both small-town westerns, yes, but a world apart in their presentation of character, their investigation of morality, their approach to violence, right down to the manner in which they are shot and edited. Both great films, incidentally. Likewise, Martin and Tolkein both write epic fantasy, but their approaches are nothing alike. Martin was an innovator in his use of realistic dialogue, in the gritiness (a term that has itself become a cliche, but still) of his world, in his ruthlessness towards his characters, in his tight focus on single points of view to tell the story. Epic fantasy can be bland and derivative, for sure, but to fail to notice the difference between Martin and Tolkein is poor criticism.

“The problem here is that the vast majority of fantasy fans simply have no interest in innovation. If fantasy authors were to hear Chadbourn’s rallying cry I suspect that the result would be a decrease in sales across the genre. The problem is not with the world of RPGs or lazy authors, it is the audience and until someone finds a way of evolving the tastes of that audience, the market will reward the writers who are able to pleasingly re-arrange old ideas and not those who present us with new ones.”

To me this both patronises and misses the point in equal measure. The majority of readers of any genre have little interest in innovation. They want to read/play/see something that’s just like the last thing they liked. That’s what a genre is. That’s what a popular market is. The same is true of crime writing, of chick-lit, of westerns, romance, black-ops action, and pretty much everything else. Sci-fi is perhaps the one exception because, more than any other, it is the genre of new ideas. But even there, anything very successful always spawns a great slew of unimaginative imitations, and the more successful, the more it’ll be imitated. Epic fantasy is, in book terms, extremely successful and so it tends also to be conservative. But that doesn’t mean you can’t offer something new while still working within the form. And it doesn’t mean that readers are too dumb to appreciate something new if you present it to them in a familiar framework, in a form that appeals.

Of course you need innovators. Of course you need the new, the bold, the wildly imaginative. There’s a daring romance to throwing caution to the wind, and it’s important to push the boundaries. But you can’t expect to shift shed loads of units that way, and you shouldn’t bitch when you don’t. Those who tend to achieve lasting commercial success are those who, like Martin, carefully combine a few new ideas with the familiar, and send the genre in a slightly different direction, usually spawning their own generation of imitators in the process.

The fact is, for the vast majority of readers (and I think I probably count myself among them), too much innovation is boring. Too much innovation is pretentious. Too much innovation is … wank.

Zounds! Swearing in Fantasy

Here’s one we can all get our teeth into. An issue that comes up from time to time, and one that looks as if it will come up a bit more for me since publication in America, is that of the use of ‘modern’ swear-words in fantasy.

Blast my potty-mouth, it gets me in all kinds of trouble. Since sensitive souls may well stumble upon this particular post, I will use asterisks to spare their blushes.

John, over at Grasping for the Wind, is having a very polite, dignified and well-thought out discussion with my American editor, Lou Anders on this very topic, and he’s taken his recent reading of The Blade Itself as his starting point. So naturally I thought I would throw in my obscene, over-dramatic and ill-considered thoughts.

There was an interesting discussion of this very issue (which again started with a reading of The Blade Itself , blast my potty-mouth again) over at SFFWorld a while back. Some of the objections raised to swearing there (and I underline that these are not necessarily John’s objections) were: that these are ‘modern’ swear-words out of context in a ‘ye olde’ fantasy setting, that you’re better off making up a culture-specific oath like ‘by the holy orb of Zalxoz I will destroy thee!’, that you can just make up your own non-offensive word to substitute for the evil English creations (like BSGs frel, for example).

So allow me to viciously destroy this straw-man I have myself created, by repeating parts of the post I made there:

The notion that ‘folks all spoke nice in them old days’ is entirely a Victorian invention. The three words that I believe we are chiefly talking about here (F**K, S**T, and C**T, forgive my euphemisms) are all words with long and proud traditions in the english language, going back hundreds of years.

Of course, fantasy is not history. Fantasies can include all kinds of different elements corresponding to different time periods. Furthermore, even if we are describing a pseudo-medieval setting, no-one could pretend that we are writing for a medieval audience. As I see it, an author has to select the mode of expression which he feels best communicates his meaning, or the meaning of his characters, to a reader of modern English. It’s a question of judgement, and, as with the explicitness of sex or violence in a book, every author will find his own way, and different readers will have their own unique response.

For me, as a reader, I find complicated oaths (by the holy beard of Swarfega etc.) to be unconvincing (and often truly risible) unless very well integrated into some specific element of a fantasy culture, and even then they are rarely a good substitute for a simple S**T in times of high excitement. When I stub my toe I very rarely reach for a culture-specific mouthful such as, “by the golden boots of David Beckham!” or some such.

To make up a word simply to act as a substitute for a perfectly good English word seems to me almost cowardly, and as a reader I would find it extremely irritating. After all, if frel or whatever is supposed to mean F**K, why not just call a spade a spade? And if it doesn’t mean F**K, then what the f**k is it supposed to mean? I can see the point if it means a TV show can air before the watershed, but I can’t for the life of me see the point in an adult work of fiction.

Take that, you straw motherf*cker!

But seriously.

For me, the inclusion of swearing isn’t about trying to inject grittiness, or to make my books adult, or even to try and make them sell (though that would be nice). It’s a question of honesty. You see, when I started writing, my Mum said to me, “Joe, you’ve got to be honest. You’ve got to think about every description, every line of speech, every image that you use and ask yourself – is this true? Is this how that thing really looks? Is this how a person would really speak? Keep everything absolutely true, and you can never go far wrong.” Best piece of advice I’ve ever had. Apart from don’t eat yellow snow, of course.

Now some folks might say, “hey, it’s fantasy, it doesn’t have to be real,” but I’d say the exact opposite. It’s happening in a made up place, so it has to be more real than ever. Its being fantasy doesn’t forgive its being unconvincing, its being dishonest, its being false. Between you (which of course is potentially the entire world, but f*ck it) and me, I think fantasy is a genre where authors get away with weak-ass, lazy dialogue way too often.

It goes without saying that, ultimately, every reader’s interpretation of what is false or unconvincing is going to be different, and some are going to find the use of swear-words jarring, but it isn’t the reader’s opinion that’s important here, it’s the writer’s. Precisely because every reader will see things differently, you simply can’t take their potential opinons into account when you write. You have to write for yourself first. You have to write the kind of book that you love, that you find true, and just hope you’ll be carrying some people along with you. The alternative is just to turn out bland, commercial pulp that you think is going to please the widest market, and that type of sh*t rarely works, even commercially.

As a reader, there’s nothing more irritating to me than faux-shakespearian dialogue, “verily, my liege, we should teach these goblins a harsh lesson.” I swear a lot in my everyday work and home life, it’s part of my everyday mode of expression and that of most people I relate to, so it would seem odd to me if my characters didn’t. It would certainly seem very, very odd if characters who are, to put it nicely, scum, didn’t swear in life-threatening situations. There are some words I don’t use, because they don’t feel right in the setting. I don’t use b*ll*cks. Too English rugby club. I don’t use d*ck (if you’ll allow the expression), but I’ve nothing against c*ck and pr*ck, depending on who’s talking. After all, what are you supposed to call it? Or should you just avoid talking about it at all?

Incidentally, I’m not knocking writers who don’t use piles of swearing. That’s their business, and it’s all part of creating a consistent atmosphere that feels right and honest for them and their readers. Lord of the Rings wouldn’t be improved if Gandalf told the Balrog to f*ck itself, for example. Or maybe it would?

Having said all that, on reading the Blade Itself recently, I did think I’d gone a bit too far with the swearing – not necessarily in the quantity – but in the variety of characters and situations I’d applied it to. I think perhaps when you write two chapters and have a swear-word in each, for example, in the experience of writing, those words might be a week apart. In the experience of reading they might be only five minutes apart. And overuse definitely does reduce impact. As everyone would, I’m sure, agree, it’s a delicate balance. But one that, ultimately, every author has to find their own way with. If you spent your time worrying about what might offend every possible reader, you’d never write a word…