At Dusk I Reign
Sage
Is fantasy dead?
Not the genre, obviously. That seems to be doing rather well judging by what I see on the shelves of my local bookshop. No, that seems healthy enough, though it could do with cutting down on the cigs and getting out in the fresh air a bit more. What concerns me (slightly – not enough to get me out of my chair and making placards) is how the concept has mutated in recent years.
There was a time, within living memory, when fantasy meant just that – a flight of fancy, happily ignoring natural laws and (in some cases) common sense. Then a shift occurred. It was no longer acceptable to have two suns in an imaginary world's sky without explaining in bone-crumbling boring depth how the two suns interacted with each other and what effect the proximity of two stars has on flora, fauna, tiny pieces of plastic which have been kept in a drawer because they obviously belong to something but no-one can figure out what so let's keep them just in case, etc.
Some unwritten rule seems to have been instituted which frowns on simply taking readers on a ride. They have to be told why the ride is taking place, the make and model of the vehicle they're travelling in, all the while being lectured on the composition of the tarmac beneath the wheels.
This isn't a rant against detail (not that I'm capable of ranting these days – incoherent grumbling is the best I can hope for). Detail is good if relevant. Rather, it's a rail against realism. It's fantasy! Why does it need to be realistic? Do readers really care as long as they're entertained for a few hours, or am I just whistling in the dark?
Not the genre, obviously. That seems to be doing rather well judging by what I see on the shelves of my local bookshop. No, that seems healthy enough, though it could do with cutting down on the cigs and getting out in the fresh air a bit more. What concerns me (slightly – not enough to get me out of my chair and making placards) is how the concept has mutated in recent years.
There was a time, within living memory, when fantasy meant just that – a flight of fancy, happily ignoring natural laws and (in some cases) common sense. Then a shift occurred. It was no longer acceptable to have two suns in an imaginary world's sky without explaining in bone-crumbling boring depth how the two suns interacted with each other and what effect the proximity of two stars has on flora, fauna, tiny pieces of plastic which have been kept in a drawer because they obviously belong to something but no-one can figure out what so let's keep them just in case, etc.
Some unwritten rule seems to have been instituted which frowns on simply taking readers on a ride. They have to be told why the ride is taking place, the make and model of the vehicle they're travelling in, all the while being lectured on the composition of the tarmac beneath the wheels.
This isn't a rant against detail (not that I'm capable of ranting these days – incoherent grumbling is the best I can hope for). Detail is good if relevant. Rather, it's a rail against realism. It's fantasy! Why does it need to be realistic? Do readers really care as long as they're entertained for a few hours, or am I just whistling in the dark?
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