I guess I am doing episode by episode reviews of The Book of Boba Fett now, so here is my somewhat delayed take on episode 4, “The Gathering Storm”. Reviews of previous episodes may be found here.
Warning: Spoilers behind the cut! Continue reading
I guess I am doing episode by episode reviews of The Book of Boba Fett now, so here is my somewhat delayed take on episode 4, “The Gathering Storm”. Reviews of previous episodes may be found here.
Warning: Spoilers behind the cut! Continue reading
I’m still not convinced that The Book of Boba Fett is truly worth doing episode by episode reviews, but here is my much delayed take on episode 3, “The Streets of Mos Espa”. Reviews of previous episodes may be found here.
Warning: Spoilers behind the cut! Continue reading
I initially put this as an ETA under one of the previous posts in the so-called “squeecore” debate. However, I think it deserves it’s own post.
Lincoln Michel has also gotten into the business of defining a new subgenre/trend as well in his Counter Craft newsletter and that new subgenre/trend is – no, not “squeecore” – but the speculative epic, which is the term Michel has coined for overwhelmingly literary works with multiple timelines, one of which often takes place in some dystopian future.
Lincoln Michel has noted a definite trend here, though it is not really a new thing. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell, which appears to be the protoype, came out in 2004, and Henderson’s Spear by Ronald Wright, which has past and present timelines, but now future ones, came out in 2001. Green Darkness by Anya Seton, which also has multiple intertwining timelines, predates both and came out in 1972. And there are even earlier examples such as The Star Rover by Jack London from 1915 (a really fascinating book, which influenced H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard among others) or The Ship of Ishtar by A. Merritt from 1924. You could probably also make a case for Dorothy Quick’s unjustly forgotten Patchwork Quilt series, which appeared in Unknown in the early 1940s. However, those works are scattered examples and what unites them is mainly a fascination with past lives and reincarnation.
That said, Lincoln Michel is right that there seem to be more books featuring multiple intertwining timelines right now, that they share certain characteristics such as addressing social issues (though you could argue that The Star Rover address the issue of prisoner abuse) and that they mainly come from the literary side of the pond rather than from the genre side, whereas the predecessors were mostly genre writers. In addition to Cloud Atlas, the examples Michel gives are Appleseed by Matt Bell, To Paradise by Hanya Yanagihara, Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr, Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel and How High We Go in the Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu.
However, I’m not just linking to this article because I’m interested in literary trends, subgenre formation and genre taxonomy (though I am), but also because Lincoln Michel demonstrates how to identify and define a new trend/potential subgenre without being a jerk about it.
The article is structured as follows: I have identified a trend and here are some examples of people who have noticed it, too, as well as some examples of works that fit into that trend. I propose this name for it (a name that’s not derogatory) and it has these characteristics. It’s also part of a larger trend towards genre-bending fiction.
What this article notably does not include is snarky asides against authors and books that Lincoln Michel does not like, buzzwords like “neoliberal” and issues that are worth addressing but have nothing to do with the subgenre in question. Also, Michel offers solid criteria for defining speculative epics and not criteria that are so vague that they apply hundreds of things up to and including Shakespeare. And yes, I am aware that I have just retroactively claimed Jack London, A. Merritt, Anya Seton and Dorothy Quick (and Robert E. Howard, whose James Allison series was directly inspired by The Star Rover) for the speculative epic, but they all wrote works which match some of the characteristics given and could be considered predecessors to this genre/trend.
Woll “speculative epic” catch on as a term for this trend/movement/subgenre? I don’t know, though personally I like the term and shall use it, crediting Michel, for works that fit. However, I suspect that Lincoln Michel’s essay will not generate nearly as much attention as the debate about “squeecore”, even though his points are solid and he makes them without being a jerk about it.
The so-called “squeecore” debate is still raging and I’ve linked to various entries, responses and comments as ETAs in my other post.
However, I think this point deserves a separate post, for Camestros Felapton links to a discussion on Reddit about the “squeecore” debate and highlights a post by someone named Gemini Dreams, which according the Raquel Benedict of the Rite Gud podcast, who kicked off this whole debate, best sums up the point she wanted to make.
Here is what Gemini Dreams identified as elements of “squeecore”:
- It’s overwhelmingly preoccupied with setting up “Hell yeah!” “epic” moments rather than, say, organic character growth
- Characters (or sometimes just the author) are extremely genre aware and constantly draw attention to the tropes of the story they occupy, without ever actually breaking the fourth wall. This genre-awareness usually isn’t used in any interesting way, and is fairly surface-level observation (i.e. red shirts, final girl, etc.)
- Characters are extremely sarcastic and have a lot of lazy banter, because it’s easier to write for the author than “real jokes” or “real humor” (though the podcast, I would criticize, fails to define what that means)
- Related to the last point: A huge discomfort with intense emotions; major emotional moments are undercut with “Whedonesque” interruptions like “Well that happened” to give a kind of glib distance from really fully experiencing the moment
- Over-explanation of everything happening rather than leaving room for interpretation
- Metaphors that fall apart after any scrutiny
- A “neoliberal” preoccupation with making sure that everything works out for all the characters, often including converting the villains into allies
- A huge preoccupation with mainstream pop culture references, but especially to movies and TV
Now this definitely describes elements that you can find in some contemporary SFF works, though it’s a writing style rather than a genre/movement. Because you could apply those stylistic choices to almost any genre and indeed, you find a similarly glib and snarky tone in other genres. What used to be called “chick lit” often had a very similar tone, for example.
Ironically, Raquel Benedict or rather the Redditor Gemini Dreams also capture a lot of what always annoyed me about Joss Whedon’s writing. Yes, I was a Whedon skeptic, since before it was cool to hate Whedon, and I got quite a bit of flak for pointing out issues with Whedon’s work, such as that Whedon tended to undercut emotional moments, because he didn’t know when to hold back the snark, ten to fifteen years ago. I also pointed out that Whedon’s characters were not nearly as feminist and progressive as they were supposed to be, which went down just about as well as you can imagine. Though at the time I didn’t know that the terrible abuse of pregnant Cordelia, which made me stop watching Angel for good, was actually a case of terrible abuse of the pregnant Charisma Carpenter in real life, since abuse of pregnant women on screen was such a common motif at the time.
And talking of Joss Whedon, this lengthy profile/interview/apologia about the man by Lila Shapiro just came out today in Vulture. If you don’t want to read the thing (and it’s long), the short version is that everybody else but Whedon is to blame for his issues, particularly his mother. You know, the same mother who inspired his feminism.
Except for the abuse of “neoliberal” (What’s neoliberal about everything working out for the characters? Especially since everything does not work out for many people in purely neoliberal systems) the Reddit summary actually makes sense of describing what precisely it is that bugs Raquel Benedict and J.R. Bolt about contemporary SFF.
Though Benedict and Bolt are still railing against a particular writing style rather than against a whole subgenre. And yes, for better or worse, Whedon did have a lot of influence on contemporary SFF writers, because Buffy, Angel and Firefly were immensely popular in the genre community, though – and this is often forgotten – none of them were huge ratings hits and Firefly was canceled after half a season.
Besides a Whedonesque style is far from universal in contemporary SFF. Of the 2021 Hugo Best Novel finalists, only Network Effect and Harrow the Ninth (and the 2020 finalist Gideon the Ninth even more so) feel somewhat Whedonesque. And while Murderbot and ART are snarky, Martha Wells is a much better writer than Whedon ever was and the stories themselves are not all that Whedonesque. And The Locked Tomb novels are heavily about grief and trauma in spite of the snarky tone of Gideon the Ninth. Of the short fiction finalists, the only story that has a light, somewhat bantery tone is Vina Jie-Min Prasad’s “A Guide to Working Breeds” and that’s not very Whedonesque. In Best Series, you also have Murderbot again as well as John Scalzi’s Interdepency, which really does have a lot of snark and banter, but is also about a universe threatening disaster. That’s four of thirty fiction finalists (five, if you count Murderbot twice) to which these complaints vaguely apply, which is hardly an overwhelming majority.
Of Hugo finalists of recent years, Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers series feels pretty Firefly influenced, but then Chambers herself has stated that she hadn’t watched Firefly when she wrote A Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet. Besides, while Wayfarers may share certain thematic similarities with Firefly, Becky Chambers’ writing style isn’t all that Whedonesque. And yes, there are the usual complaints about John Scalzi’s Redshirts (What is it about that book that has left- and right-wingers so up in arms?), but Redshirts came out ten years ago, so I would hardly call it current.
Besides, Whedon did not invent banter, snark and “Hell yeah” moments. You can find banter and snark in 1930s screwball comedies (not SFF) and banter, snark and “Hell yeah” moments in Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd and Grey Mouser stories, only that Leiber was a much better writer than Whedon. In my article in issue 59 of Journey Planet about Fritz Leiber’s “Ill Met in Lankhmar”, I described how brilliantly Fritz Leiber oscillates between lighthearted banter and utter despair and overwhelming grief in the same story. Also note that Leiber never undercuts the desperation of the second half of the story with misplaced humour like Whedon would.
There’s also a lot of banter and pop culture references in Marvel Comics from the 1960s to the 1990s. It’s particularly notable in Spider-Man, but banter and pop culture references wer pretty much the Marvel house style for a long time to the point that I’ve always suspected that this was where Whedon got it from. This is probably also why he was such a good fit for the first Avengers movie, which is IMO the best thing Whedon ever did.
So in short, it seems that Raquel Benedict and J.R. Bolt are mainly annoyed by Joss Whedon inspired writing in SFF, which is perfectly acceptable (and as I said, I’ve never been a huge Whedon fan myself, so I sympathise to a certain degree). However, the observation that Joss Whedon’s style, combined with the Marvel house style, which probably influenced Whedon, had a notable impact on SFF writing does not mean that this Whedonesque writing is the dominant mode of SFF writing some ten years after Whedon’s career peaked. Also, having read some of Raquel Benedict’s tweets, she’s not someone who should complain about other people being too snarky. Though to be fair, I have no idea what her actual writing is like.
For some reason, the “squeecore” debate also got confused with superversive SF and noblebright fantasy, two actual SFF movements, albeit of limited impact, which have been around for a while and come from a somewhat conservative (noblebright) to far right (superversive) corner of the genre.
Noblebright was coined by fantasy author C.J. Brightley in 2016 as a counterpoint to grimdark fantasy. Superversive SF is older and was coined by Tom Simon all the way back in 2003, though it did not catch on as a term until the Sad and Rabid Puppies debarkle of 2014-2017, when the Christian conservative wing of the Puppies claimed the term for itself. Meanwhile, what Benedict and Bolt dub “squeecore” comes from a left progressive corner of the genre (and is hated by the superversives), though it’s not radical enough for Benedict and Bolt. And yes, it’s quite ironic that once again the traditionalist puppies and this year’s re-iteration of the anti-nostalgics hate the same books, though they would never agree on anything else.
Finally, the whole “squeecore” debate also got tangled up with a very valid and important argument about the very real financial, geographic and accessibility barriers that keep many people from attending workshops like Clarion and Viable Paradise as well as Worldcon and other big cons.
And no, you don’t need to attend those workshops to have success (and quite a few who attend Clarion or Viable Paradise are never heard from again), but it does help to get past the first round of slush readers. Ditto for having been on a panel or shared a drink with an editor at Worldcon. It’s not a guarantee for success and you still have to write a good story/novel that fits what the editor is looking for, but it does help and we should acknowledge this.
There are scholarships for the workshops and various initiatives to make cons more accessible to people from various marginalised backgrounds, which is a big step forward. And cons going hybrid or fully virtual because of the pandemic also helps people to attend and participate who otherwise couldn’t have gone. We could still do more to remove barriers to access to the genre and this is an important conversation to have. But unfortunately, it got tangled up with “We don’t like those books/stories and here’s why.”
ETA: Long Pale Road weighs in on the “squeecore” debate from the POV of someone who thinks that the critics of the dominant SFF genre, whatever it may be, don’t go far enough in supporting transgressive fiction.
There’s also the irritating focus on the “Helicopter Story” by Isabel Fall as an example of something that is definitely not “squeecore”, even though it shares many of the characteristics given, e.g. the protagonist is a marginalised person who develops special abilities, there are “Hell Yeah!” moments, there’s snark, there are metaphors which fall apart, if you look at them. The main difference here seem to be that the anti-squeecore people generally like that story and seem to have appointed themselves the Isabel Fall defence brigade, likely without Isabel Fall’s knowledge or consent.
Also, not everybody who disliked “Helicopter Story” did so, because it made them uncomfortable. I read “Helicopter Story”, when it first came out, approx. a week before all hell broke loose, and did not like the story. I was not made uncomfortable by it, I simply felt that the “sentient weapon muses about their actions” parts (which is something of a trend in the past few years, see e.g. “Damages” by David D Levine from 2015) did not mesh well with the gender disphoria parts and that the story as a whole did not work for me.
Camestros Felapton has an interesting post on his blog asking if there is a currently dominant mode of speculative fiction. Camestros’ post is a response to two episodes of the Rite Gud podcast, namely this one where host Raquel S. Benedict and guest Kurt Schiller discuss the Sad and Rabid Puppies drama and detect a dominant mode of award-nominated science fiction that they dub “squeecore” and this episode where Benedict and guest J.R. Bolt from The Podhand attempt to define “squeecore”.
ETA: There is now a transcript of the episode available.
Now I have not listened to the full podcast episodes in question. I tried listening to the episode which attempts to define squeecore, but gave up after 45 minutes, because I didn’t much care for the podcast, which mixed in some genuine criticism of current SFF trends with a lot of snarky asides (ironically while decrying snark) against writers they dislike. The host and guest seem to be the sort of left-leaning writers/critics who always complain that current SFF is stale, too twee, not radical enough and that change is needed, but definitely not that kind of change, that have been a fixture of the genre (though the protagonists and antagonists change) for decades now. I spent more than enough time arguing with folks like that fifteen to twenty years ago and dubbed them the “anti-nostalgic fraction” back in 2016. I don’t want to rehash all that again. There will always be genre revolutionaries wanting to storm the gates of the SFF fortress and the vast majority of these mini-movements fizzle out and when a new trend arises, it rarely comes from the corner of the noisy would-be revolutionaries.
Camestros Felapton paraphrases the Rite Gud podcast’s definition of squeecore as follows:
The podcast moves on to list some of the elements that the hosts see as elements of what they call squeecore. Rather than another hefty quote I’ll try and sum it up in list form.
- it tends to be very uplifting and upbeat.
- It is didactic.
- It has a young adult fiction tone to it, even when it’s supposed to be for adults.
- Central characters can feel weirdly young, like they always think and act and feel as though they’re in their late teens or early 20s. They’re kind of inexperienced, naive, still very full of wonder.
- It has notable influence from films and a lot of influence from mainstream commercial narratives…
- One such influence being three-act structure screenplays and the ‘save the cat’ style narrative.
- Central characters can feel like they are intended to be reader-inserts like video-game RPG protagonist.
The podcasters are not wrong, cause all of these trends definitely exist in current SFF, though they’re not one unifying trend, but several different trends. Uplifting and upbeat SFF is certainly a trend and it already has a name that is much less derogatory than “squeecore”, namely hopepunk. Reader-insert characters and a video-game/RPG feel is a trend as well and there is a term or rather two for it, namely LitRPG and gamelit.
I agree that there is a strong influence of YA fiction and a tendency to show younger characters gaining skills rather than being already fully developed in contemporary SFF, but that’s the result of the YA SFF boom of the past twenty-five years, which served as a gateway to the genre for countless readers. By now, the teens who read Harry Potter and His Dark Materials twenty-five years ago have grown up and some of them have become writers. It’s only natural that they draw on their early influences just as previous generations of writers drew on theirs. Besides, young and naive protagonists are nothing new. Robert A. Heinlein’s so-called juveniles from the 1950s are full of them and Ande Norton built a decades long career out of writing young and naive protagonists discovering strange new worlds. Because this sort of thing sells to younger readers coming into the SFF genre, only that it wasn’t shelved separately from adult SFF until fairly recently.
I also detect a definite influence of movies, TV shows and mainstream pop culture in general. For all his faults, Joss Whedon’s TV shows and movies – particularly Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Firefly – have influenced a generation of SFF writers. And talking of Whedon, here is a great article by Gita Jackson from Vice about Whedon’s influence on SFF and fandom. The Marvel movies and the cartoon Avatar: The Last Airbender are big influences as well and the influences of older properties like Star Trek, Star Wars and Doctor Who (and Marvel comics) is lingering on, especially following new takes on those old stories in the 21st century. However, writers have always drawn on pop culture trends and popular media. King Kong sparked a wave of giant apes rampaging through the SFF genre and later comics from the 1930s well into the 1950s and also beget the kaiju genre, which has in turn inspired countless writers and other creatives.
One point made in the podcast that Camestros does not address is that there seems to be a proliferation of retellings and reimaginings of and responses to older stories right now. This is absolutely true, since we’re having a wave of fairytale retellings (somewhat receding by now), Lovecraft retellings and – to a lesser degree – Narnia retellings right now. The current wave of retellings often focusses on the sort of people – women, people of colour, LGBTQ people – for whom there was little to no room in the original stories and attempts to give them agency. And since our genre has become a lot more diverse in the past ten to fifteen years, we see writers from different backgrounds putting a new spin on old stories. Not all of these retellings work and indeed, I’ve been weary of fairytale retellings for a while now, especially since many of them are not nearly as revolutionary as they like to think. But there is clearly a big desire for this sort of thing.
And besides, SFF has always been a genre in conversation with itself with new stories responding – directly or indirectly – to older stories. People have been writing Lovecraftian fiction, since Lovecraft was still alive (and he tended to encourage others to play in his sandbox). Joe Haldeman wrote The Forever War in response to Heinlein’s Starship Troopers. John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War and Kameron Hurley’s The Light Brigade are further responses to Starship Troopers. All of them were Hugo finalists, two won. Tom Godwin’s “The Cold Equations” has generated dozens of responses – I committed one myself – and indeed, Raquel Benedict and her guest snark about Aimee Ogden’s recent (and excellent) response “The Cold Calculations”.
Rite Gud also makes a point about the dominance of three-act-structures and the Save the Cat book by Blake Snyder, the influence of workshops like Clarion or Viable Paradise and about the professionalisation of SFF writing in general. Now the three act or five act structure is nothing new – Gustav Freytag defined it in Die Technik des Dramas (The Technique of Drama) back in 1863 and he certainly did not invent it either. Save the Cat is an updated take on the hero’s journey (and in fact I’m surprised that they don’t complain about the influence of Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces), which is one of the oldest story structures we have.
What has changed, however, is that writing advice books and creative writing workshops are a lot more accessible than they used to be, because they have proliferated a lot in the past thirty years or. It’s far easier to find a copy of Save the Cat today than it was to find a copy of Die Technik des Dramas in 1863. Rite Gud correctly addresses the economic and geographic privilege of being able to attend the big genre workshops like Clarion or Viable Paradise. However, you don’t need to attend those expensive workshops, because every library has writing advice books and every community college offers creative writing classes these days and there are dozens of writing advice websites, podcasts, YouTube channels, forums, etc… It’s never been easier to learn about the theory of writing.
Besides, creative writing workshops are not a new phenomeon. The Iowa Writers’ Workshop was founded in 1936 and the Milford Writer’s Workshop, the first SFF focussed writing workshop, dates back to the 1950s. And I have seen complaints about the influence of the Milford Workshop and the aesthetics championed there dating from the 1970s.
Also, the myth of the “real scientist or engineer” (TM) who writes science fiction on the side is just that, a myth, even though complaints about all of those people daring to write SFF who are not “real scientists” (TM) go back more than fifty years at least. However, the vast majority of published SFF has long been written by professional writers who often wrote in multiple genres. And yes, pulp writers definitely considered themselves professionals. John W. Campbell may have preferred “real scientists or real engineers” (TM) to professional pulpsters, but even Campbell published a lot of the latter. He kept publishing L. Ron Hubbard, for fuck’s sake, and Hubbard was the prototypical hack of all genres. Never mind that a lot of Campbell’s “real scientists and real engineers” (TM) quickly ditched their real careers in favour of writing, once they were successful enough at it.
But even though the Rite Gud podcast does correctly identify some current trends and themes, there is no one dominant mode of SFF now, just as there has never any single dominant mode in SFF (or any other genre) at any given time ever. Cause you always have several trends, styles and movements going on at the same time as well as older trends still hanging on and newer trends emerging. There usually is a cluster of certain themes that are popular at a given time, but even those themes tend to come in cycles. For example, robots and AIs are having a moment now, probably because AI has made a great leap forward in the real world and robots are part of our lives now. However, robots also had a moment in the 1940s, at a time when they truly were science fiction. What has changed is the focus. In the 1940s, the focus was on, “How can we make these machines work and make sure they don’t hurt anybody?” (which was a response to earlier stories about rampaging robots and “Why don’t they work as intended?” Meanwhile, contemporary robot stories are often written from the POV of the robot or AI and often focus on questions of identity and who counts as human.
I’ve written a lengthy three part post arguing that the Golden Age was not nearly as uniform as people remember it and what is considered typical golden age science fiction these days is actually Campbellian science fiction. And even Campbell published a lot of works that don’t fit the stereotype of straight white American men using their superior intellect to conquer space, solve problems and fight aliens,. If you include magazines like Planet Stories (which has a remarkable number of stories critical of capitlalism and colonialism), Amazing Stories, Thrilling Wonder Stories, Startling Stories, Weird Tales,etc… let alone works published outside the US pulp magazine eco-system you get a much wider range of styles and trends. Yes, Campbellian science fiction was a thing in the 1940s, but it coexisted with planetary adventure stories (a lot of whom turned into “Social justice warriors of the solar system”), occult detectives, stories about hidden non-human communities living among us, industrial horror (i.e. machines run amok), humorous mythologically based fantasy, gothic horror, Lovecraftian horror, early post-apocalyptic/nuclear war fiction and lots of other styles. Never mind the authors of the so-called radium age who were still hanging on. You also had mainstream influences such as westerns (Bat Durston came from somewhere) and hardboiled and noir fiction or the historical adventures of Harold Lamb and Talbot Mundy, who influenced writers like Robert E. Howard and Fritz Leiber and whose influence echoes down the ages, even though they themselves are very obscure today.
In the 1960s, you have the New Wave, but you have the sword and sorcery revival going on at the same time and often written by the same people (Michael Moorcock and Roger Zelazny were prominent in both, as were Joanna Russ and Samuel R. Delany), you have plenty of golden age holdovers as well as the beginnings of feminist science fiction, you have the nascent fantasy boom, you have the gothic romance boom (lots of which have supernatural subplots and yet were almost completely ignored by the SFF community), you have a sword and planet revival, only that the term sword and planet didn’t exist then, and you have mainstream influences such as the huge impact of the James Bond movies and novels on the SFF genre.
As for different eras of SFF coexisting, Edgar Rice Burroughs, whose popularity peaked in the 1910s and 1920s, was nominated for a posthumous Hugo for “Savage Pellucidar” alongside Poul Anderson, Roger Zelazny and the largely forgotten Rick Raphael in 1964. E.E. Smith, maybe the prototypical golden age writer (though he started in the 1920s) was nominated for a Hugo Award for Skylark DuQuesne in 1966, losing out to Dune by Frank Herbert and This Immortal/Call Me Conrad by Roger Zelazny (the remaining two finalists were Squares of the City by John Brunner and The Moon is a Harsh Mistress by Robert A. Heinlein). Golden Age stalwarts like Robert A. Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, Arthur C. Clarke or Clifford D. Simak were still getting Hugo nominations and even the occasional win well into the 1980s. Robert A. Heinlein lost his last Hugo (for Job: A Comedy of Justice) against William Gibson’s Neuromancer.
As I explained in this post, Galactic Journey is very good at showing how different trends as well as older and newer forms of SFF coexist in the same period, because we try to cover everything and not just the cherry-picked examples that later eras choose to remember.
Also, quite often works are shoehorned into a trend, because they vaguely match some characteristics thereof and came out around the same time, even though they don’t really fit. The Expanse novels by James S.A. Corey are a good example. They are often shoehorned into the 2010s space opera revival, even though The Expanse has nothing in common with the likes of the Imperial Radch trilogy, the Paradox trilogy, the Hexarchate series or A Memory Called Empire beyond being set in space. Meanwhile, The Expanse draws heavily on mundane science fiction (a movement that never really got beyond its manifesto), Cyberpunk, golden age science fiction and the 1990s “cast of thousands/everybody and the dog gets a POV” style of SFF epics that never got a name, even though it was very much a thing and still lingers on.
But while there is no one dominant mode of SFF at the moment, there are certainly several notable trends. Hopepunk, which comes closests to what Raquel Benedict calls “squeecore”, is a definite trend, though grimdark, the trend in response to which hopepunk arose, still hangs on and is doing reasonably well, though it’s no longer as dominant as it once was. Space opera is having a moment right now with the Ann Leckie’s Imperial Radch trilogy, Yoon Ha Lee’s Machineries of Empire/Hexarchate series, Rachel Bach’s Paradox trilogy, Ann Aguirre’s Sirantha Jax series (one of the earliest examples), Becky Chambers’ Wayfarers series, John Scalzi’s Interdependency series, Arkady Martine’s A Memory Called Empire, Tamsyn Muir’s Lost Tomb trilogy and many others, but it’s a much weirder and more personal type of space opera with a strong focus on characters and found families than the New British Space Opera of the early 2000s. On the other hand, very conservative “Let’s shoot all the aliens” military science fiction is also booming, both in self-published form and at Baen Books. So called “prepper fiction”, post-apocalyptic fiction in which manly men survive the apocalypse, because they have more ammunition and canned beans than their neighbours, is another trend that flourishes in the indie and small press realm, but doesn’t really register outside its bubble.
In general, there is a strong tendency towards melding science fiction and fantasy – what was once called science fantasy – right now, both in science fiction works with quasi-magic technology (the Hexarchate series and the Locked Tomb trilogy are probably the best examples), fantasy stories which treat magic like an exact science (Brandon Sanderson and the trend towards magic systems he kicked off), the “mages in space” trend, which is mainly a thing in indie SFF, and unclassifiable works like N.K. Jemisin’s Broken Earth trilogy. LitRPG and game lit, which are mainly trends in indie SFF, with their highly systematised approach to fantasy and sometimes SF worlds would also fit here.
As mentioned above, robots and AIs are having a moment right now and a lot of stories are told from their POV, dealing with questions of identity and who counts as a person. There is a trend towards retellings, mainly of fairytales and Lovecraftian fiction, which I already addressed above as well. The horror genre is recovering from its collapse in the 1990s and cosmic horror, folk horror, remimagined slasher horror and horror from marginalised perspectives are all growing. In general, we are seeing a lot more diversity both with regard to settings, protagonists and authors. And yes, as the Rite Gud podcast alludes, it’s still a very American view of diversity, but it’s a step forward and we are seeing more and more authors from beyond the anglosphere finding success. The perception that there seem to be more stories about LGBTQ protagonists than there used to be is also linked to this. Because until fairly recently, publishers didn’t consider stories about LGBTQ characters a viable market, so they were relegated to small specialist presses and much less visible.
Sword and sorcery seems to be making a modest comeback (ETA: Since dubbed New Edge Sword and Sorcery by Howard Andrew Jones, a term I shall shamelessly steal), though mainly limited to small presses and magazines right now. Urban fantasy is still hanging on after its massive boom (largely ignored or mocked by the SFF community) in the 2000s, though except for big names like Jim Butcher, Seanan McGuire or Patricia Briggs, it has largely moved to the indie realm. There also are popular indie only trends such as harem, reverse harem and progression fantasy, many of which have their roots in manga, anime, wuxia and other Asian SFF. The success of The Handmaid’s Tale TV series and the election of Donald Trump have kicked off a mini-trend of feminist dystopias, most of which seem to come from outside the genre. Climate fiction steadfastly refuses to be a thing, unless written by Kim Stanley Robinson, and what examples there are usually come from mainstream literary writers.
Finally, new movements that get a lot of attention and even come with manifestos are often not what ends up becoming a major trend. In the early 2000s, it seemed as if the future belonged to New Weird and mundane science fiction, but both trends fizzled out quickly. What we got instead was urban fantasy, grimdark and new wave space opera. Cause making predictions regarding trends in SFF can often be just as hit and miss as science fiction’s attempts to predict the future.
ETA: The Rite Gud podcast has certainly stirred up a hornets’ nest (which I suspect is exactly what they wanted), so here are some more responses:
Simon McNeil weighs in on the “squeecore” debate from the POV of someone who agrees with many of the points made on the Rite Gud podcast.
John Scalzi weighs in on the “squeecore” debate from the POV of someone co-opted into the movement and rather baffled by that.
Camestros Felapton points out this excellent 2021 Twitter thread by Elizabeth Sandifer, in which she also attempts to define a certain style of SFF that is popular now, only that she calls it “Tor Wave”, a name I don’t necessarily think is much better than “squeecore”.
Elizabeth Sandifer herself also points out this other great Twitter thread from 2021 about different approaches and aesthetics in LGBTQ SFF and how these tied into the debate surrounding Isabel Fall’s “Helicopter Story”. This is also relevant to the “squeecore” debate, because it seems to be a similar clash of aesthetics and approaches here (and the Rite Gud podcast are big fans of that story), though I hope it won’t get that ugly.
Elizabeth Sandifer also shares four short essay about current SFF trends she has identified.
ETA 2: Camestros Felapton also points out this Twitter thread by Fangirl Jeanne who notes that no one complained when white cishet men were making snarky and not particularly original stories (though to be fair, the Rite Gud podcast does call out John Scalzi and Chuck Wendig), but once young women, people of colour and LGBTQ people started retelling and remixing various influences with characters like themselves at the centre, it suddenly became a problem.
This is an important point. For example, I may occasionally complain about the stream of fairy tale retellings, because many of them are not that original to someone who had the gory, unadulterated Grimm’s and Andersen’s fairy tales read to them as a kid and was then exposed to umpteen retellings from Disney’s (yes, they are retellings) via Czech and East German fairy tale films of the 1960s and 1970s, which occasionally managed to be remarkably subversive (Stasi censors didn’t pay too much attention to children’s films) to Angela Carter’s feminist takes on classic fairy tales. However, even though many of today’s fairy tale retellings are not for me, I don’t begrudge a young person of colour, an LGBTQ teen or a disabled teen the chance to see someone like themselves being Cinderella, going to the ball and marrying the prince (or the princess).
ETA3: Inspired by “squeecore”, Natalie Luhrs posted the not entirely serious manifesto for her own SFF movement called CyberGolden New PunkCore Squee Wave, CGNPCSW for short. I think this is one movement we can all get behind.
ETA4: The always excellent Doris V. Sutherland weighs in on the “squeecore” debate as well.
ETA5: Camestros Felapton has a follow-up post to his first post, where he summarises some arguments and talking points of this wide-ranging discussion, which conflates several disparate issues.
I’m still not convinced that The Book of Boba Fett is truly worth doing episode by episode reviews, but here is my take on episode 2, “The Tribes of Tatooine”. Reviews of previous episodes (well, just one so far) may be found here.
Warning: Spoilers behind the cut! Continue reading
It’s time for the next, somewhat belated installment in my series of episode by episode reviews of season 4 of Star Trek Discovery. Reviews of previous seasons and episodes may be found here.
Warning: Spoilers under the cut! Continue reading
Disney+ didn’t even give us a single week off, but followed up on Hawkeye with The Book of Boba Fett, a new series focussed on one of the most popular and most mysterious characters of the original Star Wars trilogy.
Though The Book of Boba Fett is a direct spin-off of The Mandalorian rather than of the original trilogy, which had Boba Fett show up very much alive (after all, he was presumed dead after falling into the Sarlaac Pit in Return of the Jedi) in the episode “The Tragedy” and fights Din Djarin for his armour, before the two team up against the Empire, which has kidnapped Baby Grogu. When we last saw Boba Fett and his new ally ex-Imperial assassin Fennec Shand, they had just killed Jabba the Hutt’s former major domo and successor Bib Fortuna and taken over Jabba’s palace and position as the biggest crime lord on Tatooine.
Warning: Spoilers under the cut! Continue reading
Welcome to the first edition of First Monday Free Fiction for 2022.
To recap, inspired by Kristine Kathryn Rusch who posts a free short story every week on her blog, I’ll post a free story on the first Monday of every month. At the end of the month, I’ll take the story down and post another.
It’s winter in the northern hemisphere and even though we haven’t been blessed (or cursed) with a lot of snow so far, it’s nonetheless the perfect time for a wintery story.
This month’s free story The Wolf of Rajala is part of my Kurval sword and sorcery series. I originally created Kurval, because I enjoyed Robert E. Howard’s stories of Kull as King of Valusia and Conan as King of Aquilonia a whole lot and was always disappointed that there weren’t any more of them. So I created my own wandering barbarian turned king character.
However, Kurval quickly acquired a backstory as well as adventures set before his time as King of Azakoria. The Wolf of Rajala is one of those stories, since it’s set during Kurval’s time as a mercenary and wandering monster slayer, when the crown seems nothing more than a distant dream. Though the themes of justice and mercy that run through the Kurval stories is also present in The Wolf of Rajala.
So accompany Kurval, as he braves the frozen land of Simola and faces…
“Before he became King of Azakoria in the Year of the Forked Serpent, Kurval spent many a year wandering the lands of the Eastern continent. During this time, he performed deeds of great bravery and fought several fearsome monsters such as the serpent Khalikidai, the dragon of Suraimur. But none of these monsters was more fearsome than the wolf of Rajala…”
From the Chronicles of Azakoria by Ragur, Count Falgune
“Civilisation…” Kurval thought, as he trudged through the knee deep snow, “…is not all it’s cracked up to be.”
In the Year of the Twisted Rope, Kurval had forever left his homeland on the steppes of Temirzhan across the sea behind to seek his fortune in the more civilised lands of the East.
That said, he hadn’t left entirely of his own free well. For there was no longer a place in Temirzhan for a captain of the Royal Guard who had not only defied his king but also helped to bring about his death. Even if King Talgat had been a terrible ruler and worse man.
And so Kurval had left to find his destiny in the lands across the sea, chasing the prophecy of the dark gods that one day, he would be a mighty king on the far side of the great ocean.
But so far, not a hint of that royal destiny had manifested itself to the point that Kurval wondered whether the dark gods had not been toying with him. Nor were the lands across the sea the beacon of civilisation and knowledge he’d expected them to be. Instead, they were mostly cold and miserable.
Since it would not do to simply venture into the capital of one of the kingdoms beyond the sea and announce his intention to take the throne — never mind that those blasted dark gods had not even told him which kingdom he was destined to rule — Kurval now plied his trade as a mercenary, offering his arm and his sword to anyone with gold enough to hire him. It wasn’t kinghood, but it was an honest enough profession.
This time around, he had been hired by the magistrate of the village Rajala. The village was beset by wolves, which in itself was nothing unusual, for the village lay at the edge of the vast forest of Korjus, a forest that many wolfpacks roamed. And even though wolves normally kept away from humans, as afraid of man as man was of wolves, attacks did happen on occasion.
However, in the past three moons, the number of wolf attacks near the village of Rajala has increased. The wolves were also getting bolder, venturing ever closer to the village and its sturdy log cabins. The snatched sheep and sometimes even unwary travellers. Of late, the attacks had gotten even worse. The daughter of a grain merchant only narrowly escaped death when a wolf chased her to the doorstep of her home. A wealthy farmer had his privates bitten off, the judge from the nearest market town lost a leg to the wolf and the village butcher, who also doubled as the hangman, was found dead in the woods, his guts torn out.
Even more alarming was that the wolves that beset the village of Rajala were larger than usual. One wolf in particular threatened the village, a vicious beast three times as tall as a man, with razor-sharp fangs and glowing red eyes. Every night, the villagers heard the wolf howl, a howl that seemed to come straight from the underworld, promising death and doom.
The magistrate had hired Kurval to slay that giant wolf and as many of the others as he could and bring back the beasts’ pelts in exchange for a bag of gold. As jobs went, this one was easy enough, for Kurval was not afraid of wild beasts, even uncommonly large ones. Furthermore, he strongly suspected that the villagers were exaggerating with regard to the wolf’s size. If only it wasn’t so damned cold…
In his youth on the steppes of Temirzhan across the sea, Kurval had rarely worn more than a loincloth. Now, however, he wore a padded leather jerkin and matching trousers, woollen gloves and fur-lined boots, a fur hat and a thick vest of sheepskin. But even bundled up like an old man sitting by the fireside and complaining about his aching joints, Kurval was still cold.
Night was falling fast and the tall fir trees of the forest of Korjus were outlined in stark black against the darkening winter sky. In theory, this was a good thing, because wolves hunt by night. Unfortunately, nightfall also meant that what little warmth the wan winter sun provided faded and it got even colder. And torch that Kurval carried offered light, but little in the way of warmth.
The snow crunched beneath his fur-lined boots, as he made his way through the forest. Up ahead, the moon was rising, casting its icy light over the frozen land. The snow underneath his feet glittered, as if it had been sprinkled with diamond dust.
A bone-chilling howl echoed through the forest, causing even the fir trees to shudder and dump their burden of snow. That would be the wolf then.
With a grim smile on his face, Kurval trudged onwards, directly towards the howling.
***
This story was available for free on this blog for one month only, but you can still read it in The Wolf of Rajala. And if you click on the First Monday Free Fiction tag, you can read this month’s free story.