Day 308: Genre Bending

Today I've been thinking about how hard it is to fit into a genre. When I first started writing I thought this was just something that came naturally, like if you write a story in space of course it must be sci-fi, or if there are elves and magic then it must be fantasy. The more I learn though, the more convinced I become that genre is purely an illusion. Orson Scott Card talked about this in his book 'How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy,' where he heavily emphasized the setup and delivery of promises. When a book instigates a story, there's an inherent promise to see the plot through to the end. This is the most basic promise in any story, but there are many others too, all determined by the writer whether they realize it or not. At the heart of genre lie these implicit promises, expectations the reader brings to the table based on the context of the story. Craft the right set of promises, and the story will land firmly within a certain genre. Bend these promises or ignore them, and it may feel like it doesn't have a place, or if the writer is a real genius, it will feel like a breath of fresh air.

As for why I'm starting to think genre isn't real, let's take an example. Star Wars is cited as popularizing the space opera genre for its massive popularity. At first glance, it must be sci-fi. There's spaceships, laser guns, other worlds, everything you would expect from a science fiction story. But then, the plot itself reads almost identically to a fairy tale. A young boy meets a wise mentor of the mystic arts and goes on adventure to save a princess. Along the way, they meet a dashing rogue and his wooly best friend, join a group of ragtag rebels in hiding, and they even enlist the help of forest creatures to defeat the dark empire. The dark mage is defeated at the end when his evil servant finally sees the light. Star Wars delivers on every promise a fantasy story ever made, but the context would imply that it's sci-fi. It's a fantasy story wearing a sci-fi coat.

Most science fiction doesn't include such black and white morality, magic forces, or much sword fighting for that matter. When they do have these things they go to great lengths to explain them, as if these are holes or mistakes that need to be accounted for. Notice that Star Wars doesn't care at all if carrying a sword around doesn't make sense. The entire explanation for why Jedi use lightsabers instead of blasters is that they're a more civilized weapon. Now a story like Dune on the other hand went to great lengths to explain its sword combat. There's an entire prequel series dedicated to explaining Dune's apparent lack of technological progress. Personal shields play a huge role, to the point where their mere existence decides how characters choose their battles. The 'magic' is, in reality, a complex set of biological principles and scientific teachings cloaked in a mysterious garb. This is more what we would expect from science fiction. Rigorous adherence to the internal logic of the world. If Star Wars is fantasy wearing a sci-fi coat, then Dune almost feels like the opposite. Science fiction pretending to act like fantasy.

That vague expectation of rigor in sci-fi is an example of one implicit promise made by the genre. No author ever states whether they're going to be rigorous with their technology, or take a more loosey goosey approach, but generally you'll know from the first chapter whether that will be the case.

Since these promises, implicit or explicit, are entirely under the author's control, I've become convinced that genre is just a label we smack on a set of promises that fits best. Maybe it sounds like a trivial distinction, but I think it redefines the author's role in choosing genre. Understanding which promises add up to what genre allows for interesting combinations like we see in Star Wars or Dune. Blending promises together creates a world ripe with pleasant surprises along the way, which of course every reader loves. Taking control of which shelf your book might fall on is a powerful thing I'm hoping that I can pull off.

Thank you for reading,

Benjamin Hawley