Where do we draw the line?

[shalter]

If I had to do a one-sentence summary of its metaphysics, or rather its author's take on its metaphysics, I'd say that while it's a universe in which several different magical systems are in simultaneous operation, that's no excuse for getting sloppy about things like ownership of the means of production.

Tnh,
The Horse! This is in the opinion of this mild reader, no I am quite resolved that it is most likely, that is to say completely, a most masterful summation (brevity being, as the redoubtable Paarfi has upon many occasions succinctly said, a quality both admirable and desirable).

(This whole topic would be a great one for Paarfi to take up.)

In other words, yes I really like all of the Dragaeran books. That's really interesting info on the petroleum cracking plant scene. It's not surprising that Steven filed it away for later use.

[dominsions]

One method of cataloging sci-fi or fantasy might be the source. If the source is from myth, such as the Greek gods (Percy Jackson series- Thor), Egyptian magic (Harry Potter and so many others), dragons, demons, etc. then it would be fantasy. If it uses some element of science such as space travel, other worlds, aliens, or futuristic scenes, it would be sci-fi. Obviously there could be elements of both or a blurring between the categories, but there seem to be definite differences in the audience. One group prefers technology, another mythology. Hence I would also agree that these are marketing distinctions.

[tnh]

Dominsions, I see you haven't read Roger Zelazny's Lord of Light. Go hunt down a copy -- it's a wonderful book. It's also one that sits directly athwart your definition, since it's explicitly a science fiction novel, but it stars the gods and goddesses of the Hindu pantheon.

The series we've been discussing -- the Vlad Taltos novels, by Steven Brust -- takes place on another planet, and the savvier Easterners (humans) who live there are aware that they aren't native to it, and originally came from a different planet. At the same time, some of the characters are gods. I'll try not to introduce spoilers here, but at one point in the series Vlad Taltos, while not dead himself, spends some time in the afterlife of one of the planet's other species.

Can I get you to do an experiment? Take some of those mythology-based fantasies you've read, lay them out on a table, and look at all their covers at once. Now take some equivalent novels you're sure are SF, and lay them out as a separate group on the same table. Look at them as a group, the same way you did with the fantasies.

Now shove them all together into a single group. Do your best to put out of your mind the fact that you've read them. Just look at the cover art and typography. Can you still tell what's fantasy and what's SF? I'm betting that you can. A book cover is a delicately confected signalling device, and fantasy vs. SF is an important signal in our genre.

The truth is, there's no clear rule that distinguishes science fiction from fantasy. If we look at the genre as a whole, there are a lot of books that definitely fall into one group or another -- Lord of the Rings is definitely fantasy; Stan Robinson's Red/Green/Blue Mars series is definitely science fiction -- and a lot of books and stories where the line is impossible to draw: Lord of Light, the Vlad Taltos novels, most of Tim Powers' work, Charlie Stross's Laundry novels, and so forth.

Simple definitions of SF vs. fantasy will tell you that if magic is real, the story is fantasy. Here's a passage from Charlie Stross's short story "Pimpf," in which Bob Howard, main character and narrator of the Laundry novels, is telling his new intern how things work:

"Did anyone tell you what the Laundry actually does?"

"Plays lots of deathmatches?" he asks hopefully.

"That's one way of putting it," I begin, then pause. How to continue? "Magic is applied mathematics. The many-angled ones live at the bottom of the Mandelbrot set. Demonology is right after debugging in the dictionary. You heard of Alan Turing? The father of programming?"

"Didn't he work for John Carmack?"

Oh, it's another world out there. "Not exactly, he built the first computers for the government, back in the Second World War. Not just codebreaking computers; he designed containment processors for Q Division, the Counter-Possession Unit of SOE that dealt with demon-ridden Abwehr agents. Anyway, after the war, they disbanded SOE--broke up all the government computers, the Colossus machines--except for the CPU, which became the Laundry. The Laundry kept going, defending the realm from the scum of the multiverse. There are mathematical transforms that can link entities in different universes--try to solve the wrong theorem and they'll eat your brain, or worse. Anyhow, these days more people do more things with computers than anyone ever dreamed of. Computer games are networked and scriptable, they've got compilers and debuggers built in, you can build cities and film goddamn movies inside them. And every so often someone stumbles across something they're not meant to be playing with and, well, you know the rest."

His eyes are wide in the shadows. "You mean, this is government work? Like in DeusEx?"

I nod. "That's it exactly, kid." Actually it's more like Doom 3 but I'm not ready to tell him that; he might start pestering me for a grenade launcher.

It may be a world where magic works, but it feels a lot more like science fiction.

Here's the heart of the matter: marketing categories are all about matching people with books. What a label on the spine that says Technothriller, or Paranormal Romance, or Science Fiction, or Fantasy, or Western actually signifies is, "If you liked other books with this label on their spine, there's a fairly good chance you'll like this book as well."

A list of ingredients -- gods, techology, magic, rocket ships, mythology, vampires, Colt revolvers, lycanthropy, unobtanium -- isn't sufficient to match readers with the books they're looking for. I was once talking to a member of a con committee that had been turned down by Neil Gaiman, and was trying to figure out who else they could ask. The person rattled off a list of the characteristics of Neil's writing that they were planning to discuss in their program items. I thought about it for a moment, then observed that the only other author I could think of whose work matched their list of characteristics was Vernor Vinge.

Ingredients aren't arbitrary, but they aren't nearly as important as what you do with them. Here's the opening of John M. Ford's World Fantasy Award-winning poem, "Winter Solstice, Camelot Station," which mixes King Arthur's court with railroads:

Camelot is served
By a sixteen-track stub terminal done in High Gothick Style,
The tracks covered by a single great barrel-vaulted glass roof framed upon iron,
At once looking back to the Romans and ahead to the Brunels.
Beneath its rotunda, just to the left of the ticket windows,
Is a mosaic floor depicting the Round Table
(Where all knights, regardless of their station of origin
Or class of accommodation, are equal),
And around it murals of knightly deeds in action
(Slaying dragons, righting wrongs, rescuing maidens tied to the tracks).
It is the only terminal, other than Gare d'Avalon in Paris,
To be hung with original tapestries,
And its lavatories rival those at the Great Gate of Kiev Central.

Attempts to come up with a rule set that differentiates SF from fantasy always wander off and get lost in the endless labyrinths of edge cases -- in part, one suspects, because there are so many really cool edge cases.

[tnh]

Shalter:

(This whole topic would be a great one for Paarfi to take up.)

How, the eminent Paarfi of Roundwood in an online forum? I mean not the least disrespect in the world when I question the wisdom of such a course; for, you must perceive, the cumulative workings-out of probability are such that, sooner or later, a member of the House of the Troll must very likely -- nay, almost certainly -- insinuate himself into the conversation. Once there, the chances rise to something very like inevitability that the Troll would offer to amuse Master Paarfi with specious yet unending yet still specious yet nevertheless unending arguments, as is the regrettable custom of that house. If Paarfi were to then display, not the swift and decisive behavior characteristic of those who make history (by which I mean, summarily rejecting the Troll's overtures), but rather the expansive and vegetative temperament of those who write histories, which would naturally lead him to engage with the Troll, I fear the wordcount would be unsurvivable.

[shalter]

How, what! The non-digressiveness of the eminent Paarfi is well known. In the affair of the multicolored pinwheel that caused such a degree -- as is well known in all circles of historical discourse-- of trepidation in the reign of Jessier the Fearful the brevity of Paarfi is both well established and entertained in a fashion both succinct and detailed in only 500 pages as can be seen from the numerous footnotes alone.
The House of the Troll being one of the lesser houses (not having been integrated into the cycle by Kieron and Sethra) does present problems in establishing a linear dialogue as by the fabled commodius vicus of recirculation the members of the referenced house (being the aforementioned House of the Troll) are well known to most assuredly not engage in a brevity of discourse; being as seen in the monologue of Goort a most deleterious document of more than 20 pages.
That being said, I note that your point is well taken and perhaps the need for a forum discussing the works of Paarfi's colaborator--the eminent Brust--must needs be established.

[steve12553]

I've seen this topic many times and I can't help myself. I must answer. First off: If it employs rules of Science that the author and his contemporaries believe it is Science Fiction. In other words, as far as the author knows, it might be, whether sometime in the future or somewhere else, it might be. Fantasy says, we know its not true, but we don't care. It's Fantasy. If it contains any element of Fantasy it is Fantasy. The original Star Wars trilogy had the Fantasy element of the Force, hence, it's Fantasy. The backstory trilogy explained it with Science, it's Science Fiction. Not near as much fun but Science Fiction none-the-less. Dracula is Fantasy, I Am Legend explains the Vampires it is Science Fiction. It all boils down to the author's beliefs and understanding. Much of the works of Jules Verne and H. G. Welles would be Fantasy if they know what we think we know today. Much of our Scince Fiction of today would be Fantasy if our authors knew what our decendant will know.

[johntmherres]

Where to draw the line, indeed. Why does there always have to be a line?

I see several points here which make for good arguments, and agree with many. However, I also think there is a blending of the genres which needs to be addressed. There are those which, I believe, could and possibly should be labeled as "sci-fi/fantasy". Among these would be "Star Wars" for the simple fact that it does deal with both qualities. I do not think that all stories should be classified as only one genre. That would be boring and repetitious. Combining can give a fantastic diversion to the ordinary, as well as expanding the target audience. After all, don't we all, as writers, wish to gather the most readership we can? One should at least try to expand one's potential audience by making a good story which captures the imagination of as many readers as one can.

In summation, if there are valid genres of Fantasy/Adventure, Comedy/Horror, and, unfortunately, Horror/Romance, why not recognize the all important Sci-Fi/Fantasy?

[Ian P. Johnson]

I've been thinking about this topic for a while. (That's one of the best things about Torcom– things we discuss here occupy my head even when I'm not on.)

One thing that I thought of: why do we refer to our genre as SFF? Yes, I'm completely aware that it stands for "Science Fiction and Fantasy". And yes, I also know that it's a convenient way to save space. But it seems to me that the label SFF is something else– something more fundamental. It seems like calling science fiction and fantasy together "SFF" is a way of acknowledging the unity of the two genres, and their shared history.

There are books that are definitely science fiction, and there are books that are fantasy. But the term "SFF" is a way of bridging the two and saying, "Hey. These genres are two sides of one coin, two parts of one whole."

Which makes me wonder: is "SFF" just a synonym for "speculative fiction"? Or are there genres of speculative fiction that aren't part of SFF? Is steampunk in there? Slipstream? Alternative History?

Share your thoughts. This is a great discussion.

[tnh]

Ian, I've been thinking about your question off and on since last November. The lineage of SF&F runs back through the Romantics. SF criticism definitely starts with Coleridge, and their "sense of the romantic sublime" is just as clearly the precursor of our "sense of wonder".

Why then, why there? I suspect it's like alternate history, which can't really exist prior to the invention or establishment of history proper. One of the ways mimetic fiction has constructed itself has been by excluding certain maneuvers and subject matters. Its core convention is that it excludes things that aren't real, unless they're clearly labeled as metaphors or unreliable subjective experiences. (We will ignore, for the moment, the unreality of some of its most cherished tropes.)

SF and fantasy are on the other side of the divide because we're willing to use materials that aren't real, be they new inventions, old magics, or alternate timelines. We've functioned as an R&D lab of techniques for handling these materials, and have been so successful at it that the mainstream is now sneaking back across the line to steal our toys, because they're too powerful and too much fun to ignore.

IMO, the hottest area of our genre right now is this-worldly fantasy -- Jasper Fforde, Joss Whedon, the Laundry novels, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, urban fantasy, paranormals, most of what gets called magic realism -- which is doing major R&D on how to handle fantasy that hasn't been tidily relocated to some other world or continuum. There's a lot of heavy negotiation around rule sets.

My favorite new genre synthesis of the moment is the universe in which Supernatural takes place. It knits together elements like the old national highway system, Detroit big iron, blue-collar culture, local food and local businesses, regional myths and legends, Robert Johnson selling his soul to the Devil at a crossroads one night, a magic revolver made by Samuel Colt, historically resonant places like Lawrence KS and Carthage MO, and the kind of apocalyptically reimagined weird-ass versions of Christianity that have always been part of the American imagination. It's a world in which Sawzall and Caterpillar are infinitely more important brand names than Prada, pie and cheeseburgers matter, and a major character, a shaman of sorts, is a guy who runs an automobile junkyard in Sioux Falls, SD. It's deeply satisfying. I like the background better than the show.

Where do you draw the line with something like that? You don't. It's irrelevant. What you ask is how it works.

[tnh]

We do it because it's one way to figure out how they work.