ABSOLUTE MAGNITUDE
Note: This article was written quite some time ago, and while the magazine is still around, the subscription address had been removed, as it is no longer accurate.
Something has happened to the fantasy and SF genre over the years. Something that is both wonderful and at the same time horrible. It is a trend for which I see no end. I'm not even certain there should be one. I am referring to the death of the adventure story.
In days of yore, shelves and magazines were filled with action adventure stories set in technologically advanced civilizations (i.e. space opera) or against a medieval fantasy backdrop (ie. swords and sorcery). These tales were not the deep, probing, poignant literature of today, nor were they fast, flashy, image-inspiring type of story. They didn't necessarily have a twist ending, nor did they struggle to outdo their predecessors.
The Doc Savage books by Kenneth Robeson are a wonderful example of this. The series numbers well over a hundred books. In one sense, they were formula books, but I was quite fond of them anyway. I loved the interaction between Monk and Ham and their two pets Habeas Corpus the pig and Chemistry the chimp. I loved that Johnny the archaeologist always used big words and Renny, the electrician with fists as big as pails, always said holy cow. And the girls always fell for Doc Savage, the man of bronze.
It didn't matter that almost a quarter of each book was repeated virtually word for word. I enjoyed them, perhaps more so because I knew exactly what to expect. The little differences made the stories interesting, but it was the characters that I had come to love that made the stories special, even if they didn't change or grow.
This is what's missing from the genre today. The adventure story. The Expendable series by Richard Avery. The Family D'Alambert series by EE Doc Smith. The basic staple stories that seemed to have disappeared over the years. The prince who slays a dragon and rescues the maiden. The knight who jousts for the honor of his King. The woman warrior who defies all the odds, in spite of the fact that her armor covers no part of her that might make a difference.
This is not to say that I am not for progress, but I also like to reminisce. I believe there is room for both types of fiction. For every Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, there should be a Lensman. For every Amber book, there should be a Conan. There is something special about the original Superman and Batman, even if they were really campy. Something that makes me think of the long lost summers of childhood, where each day was an eon and the world was a much larger place.
The issue came up in full force recently, when I finished a short story called Birthright (having nothing at all to do with the SSI game of the same name). It's a good story. It's well written. It has a strong plot. It received a somewhat lukewarm reaction from the people I showed it to, because it wasn't "fresh or different." I wonder how the Halloween sequels keep making money.
Where am I leading with this? I have discovered yet another magazine, this time SF, called Absolute Magnitude. I purchased and read the last three issues, before finally subscribing. What I really like about it is that it tells stories. Really absorbing excellent stories. Some are space opera. Some are really excellent hard core SF. Some are just incredibly well-written. I feel like I've gotten something for my money, after almost every tale. The editor, Warren Lapine, has done a smashing job of gathering the finest SF short stories together, from some of the top names in the business. Names like Chris Bunch, Shariann Lewitt, Hal Clement and F. Alexander Brejcha. There's even a monthly column by Allen Steele.
These stories are precisely the type of stories that I search for and the type that I try to write. Stories that tell a story. Stories with characters you can sink your teeth into, even if they may bite you back. Stories with a strong central plot and an interesting backdrop. It doesn't have to take place a million years in the future (though some do). It can be something that happens next year or the year after. As long as the story is engaging, as long as I am entertained, then the writer has done his/her job. Absolute Magnitude provides this service. Congratulations to the artists, writers and, of course, Warren Lapine for a job well done.
Subscriptions for Absolute Magnitude run $16.00 for 1 year (4 issues) and $27.00 for 2 years (8 issues). Even a lifetime subscription is available for $350.00.
On to other matters. I have received several responses from my readers on many of the topics that I've addressed in View from the Parapet. My favorite thus far came from Cat Bennet. She writes:
I would consider myself, along with my family and any I would deign to associate with...a fantasy fan. Sure, I'm big on TSR, but one of my favorite authors is Asimov.
True fantasy, as you've described it here, is very hard to come by because most readers demand explanations for everything. Fiction has to be plausible-but truth does not, so does this make fantasy, which has fewer plausible explanations, more like real life with its lack of logic, than fiction, which has an unrealistic amount of explanation?
Think about it.
Well Cat, I have thought about it. I think we've all heard the expression that the truth is stranger than fiction, but I've seldom heard the reverse said, as you seem to be saying. That fiction is less strange than reality.
I think readers demand explanations under certain sets of circumstances. If something in fiction is implausible, yet it shows that it is repeatedly implausible in precisely the same way, many people will accept it for the sake of the story. Superman puts on a suit and a pair of glasses and Lois Lane never once recognized him. I think I would probably recognize most of my coworkers in an odd outfit, even without their glasses, but you don't think about it when watching the show. Nor do you wonder why Superman stands there and takes bullets in his chest without so much as flinching, yet he ducks as soon as the hapless criminal hurls a gun at him.
Likewise, when we watch Bugs Bunny, which is yet another form of fantasy, nothing need be explained. We accept that Elmer J. Fudd can hover for a few long moments, after he's stepped off the cliff. The only time we demand explanation is when a work takes itself seriously. When a piece of literature asks us to be deeply concerned about a character, we must believe with all of our heart that he/she is in danger. Without that belief, the story cannot possibly hold our interest. Nor does it deserve to.
Once again, I am back on the subject of suspending your disbelief. Perhaps I am more gullible than most of you, but I feel that I would rather be entertained by a tale, than find a hole in it. Not to say that I always succeed, but I do tend to be rather forgiving of inconsistencies, as long as they aren't too serious. On the other hand, in my own work, I am most unforgiving. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's when I overlook some fatal plot flaw. It doesn't happen often mind you, but there have been times when I've written a story, and one of my friends will look it over and ask, "well, why didn't the protagonist just da da da?" And I look at whoever it is with baleful eyes, hoping that they won't tell anyone before I get to correct it.
Now that I've rambled incessantly through yet another issue, I have one last item on my agenda.
While I have received a number of responses to both View from the Parapet and The Adventures of Alaric Swifthand, I have noticed that only a small percentage of those that read these columns tend to offer their opinion. This to me is sort of like a low voter turn out. So, I decided to ask a specific question, to see how many of you would pick up the baton and run with it.
What would you like to hear about in the next issue of View from the Parapet? Is there something in the fields of Fantasy or SF that has been gnawing at you (besides your pet rats)?
Is there something that you love beyond words and wish to share with others? Is there a book, a movie, an exotic animal, a specific author, or a type of fantasy or SF that really calls to you? Likewise are there issues that you frankly can't deal with, that you would like to see me address? Believe me, I'm not running out of ideas of my own. I just would like to know what you, the reader, want to see in this column.
Thanks again to all of you who have dropped me a proverbial line and until next time, keep on reading and if you do get a chance, check out an issue of Absolute Magnitude. You won't regret it.
Webpage & Graphics by Samandi Adams
Copyright (c) 2003-2004 ~ All Rights Reserved
ABSOLUTE MAGNITUDE
Note: This article was written quite some time ago, and while the magazine is still around, the subscription address had been removed, as it is no longer accurate.
Something has happened to the fantasy and SF genre over the years. Something that is both wonderful and at the same time horrible. It is a trend for which I see no end. I'm not even certain there should be one. I am referring to the death of the adventure story.
In days of yore, shelves and magazines were filled with action adventure stories set in technologically advanced civilizations (i.e. space opera) or against a medieval fantasy backdrop (ie. swords and sorcery). These tales were not the deep, probing, poignant literature of today, nor were they fast, flashy, image-inspiring type of story. They didn't necessarily have a twist ending, nor did they struggle to outdo their predecessors.
The Doc Savage books by Kenneth Robeson are a wonderful example of this. The series numbers well over a hundred books. In one sense, they were formula books, but I was quite fond of them anyway. I loved the interaction between Monk and Ham and their two pets Habeas Corpus the pig and Chemistry the chimp. I loved that Johnny the archaeologist always used big words and Renny, the electrician with fists as big as pails, always said holy cow. And the girls always fell for Doc Savage, the man of bronze.
It didn't matter that almost a quarter of each book was repeated virtually word for word. I enjoyed them, perhaps more so because I knew exactly what to expect. The little differences made the stories interesting, but it was the characters that I had come to love that made the stories special, even if they didn't change or grow.
This is what's missing from the genre today. The adventure story. The Expendable series by Richard Avery. The Family D'Alambert series by EE Doc Smith. The basic staple stories that seemed to have disappeared over the years. The prince who slays a dragon and rescues the maiden. The knight who jousts for the honor of his King. The woman warrior who defies all the odds, in spite of the fact that her armor covers no part of her that might make a difference.
This is not to say that I am not for progress, but I also like to reminisce. I believe there is room for both types of fiction. For every Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, there should be a Lensman. For every Amber book, there should be a Conan. There is something special about the original Superman and Batman, even if they were really campy. Something that makes me think of the long lost summers of childhood, where each day was an eon and the world was a much larger place.
The issue came up in full force recently, when I finished a short story called Birthright (having nothing at all to do with the SSI game of the same name). It's a good story. It's well written. It has a strong plot. It received a somewhat lukewarm reaction from the people I showed it to, because it wasn't "fresh or different." I wonder how the Halloween sequels keep making money.
Where am I leading with this? I have discovered yet another magazine, this time SF, called Absolute Magnitude. I purchased and read the last three issues, before finally subscribing. What I really like about it is that it tells stories. Really absorbing excellent stories. Some are space opera. Some are really excellent hard core SF. Some are just incredibly well-written. I feel like I've gotten something for my money, after almost every tale. The editor, Warren Lapine, has done a smashing job of gathering the finest SF short stories together, from some of the top names in the business. Names like Chris Bunch, Shariann Lewitt, Hal Clement and F. Alexander Brejcha. There's even a monthly column by Allen Steele.
These stories are precisely the type of stories that I search for and the type that I try to write. Stories that tell a story. Stories with characters you can sink your teeth into, even if they may bite you back. Stories with a strong central plot and an interesting backdrop. It doesn't have to take place a million years in the future (though some do). It can be something that happens next year or the year after. As long as the story is engaging, as long as I am entertained, then the writer has done his/her job. Absolute Magnitude provides this service. Congratulations to the artists, writers and, of course, Warren Lapine for a job well done.
Subscriptions for Absolute Magnitude run $16.00 for 1 year (4 issues) and $27.00 for 2 years (8 issues). Even a lifetime subscription is available for $350.00.
On to other matters. I have received several responses from my readers on many of the topics that I've addressed in View from the Parapet. My favorite thus far came from Cat Bennet. She writes:
I would consider myself, along with my family and any I would deign to associate with...a fantasy fan. Sure, I'm big on TSR, but one of my favorite authors is Asimov.
True fantasy, as you've described it here, is very hard to come by because most readers demand explanations for everything. Fiction has to be plausible-but truth does not, so does this make fantasy, which has fewer plausible explanations, more like real life with its lack of logic, than fiction, which has an unrealistic amount of explanation?
Think about it.
Well Cat, I have thought about it. I think we've all heard the expression that the truth is stranger than fiction, but I've seldom heard the reverse said, as you seem to be saying. That fiction is less strange than reality.
I think readers demand explanations under certain sets of circumstances. If something in fiction is implausible, yet it shows that it is repeatedly implausible in precisely the same way, many people will accept it for the sake of the story. Superman puts on a suit and a pair of glasses and Lois Lane never once recognized him. I think I would probably recognize most of my coworkers in an odd outfit, even without their glasses, but you don't think about it when watching the show. Nor do you wonder why Superman stands there and takes bullets in his chest without so much as flinching, yet he ducks as soon as the hapless criminal hurls a gun at him.
Likewise, when we watch Bugs Bunny, which is yet another form of fantasy, nothing need be explained. We accept that Elmer J. Fudd can hover for a few long moments, after he's stepped off the cliff. The only time we demand explanation is when a work takes itself seriously. When a piece of literature asks us to be deeply concerned about a character, we must believe with all of our heart that he/she is in danger. Without that belief, the story cannot possibly hold our interest. Nor does it deserve to.
Once again, I am back on the subject of suspending your disbelief. Perhaps I am more gullible than most of you, but I feel that I would rather be entertained by a tale, than find a hole in it. Not to say that I always succeed, but I do tend to be rather forgiving of inconsistencies, as long as they aren't too serious. On the other hand, in my own work, I am most unforgiving. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's when I overlook some fatal plot flaw. It doesn't happen often mind you, but there have been times when I've written a story, and one of my friends will look it over and ask, "well, why didn't the protagonist just da da da?" And I look at whoever it is with baleful eyes, hoping that they won't tell anyone before I get to correct it.
Now that I've rambled incessantly through yet another issue, I have one last item on my agenda.
While I have received a number of responses to both View from the Parapet and The Adventures of Alaric Swifthand, I have noticed that only a small percentage of those that read these columns tend to offer their opinion. This to me is sort of like a low voter turn out. So, I decided to ask a specific question, to see how many of you would pick up the baton and run with it.
What would you like to hear about in the next issue of View from the Parapet? Is there something in the fields of Fantasy or SF that has been gnawing at you (besides your pet rats)?
Is there something that you love beyond words and wish to share with others? Is there a book, a movie, an exotic animal, a specific author, or a type of fantasy or SF that really calls to you? Likewise are there issues that you frankly can't deal with, that you would like to see me address? Believe me, I'm not running out of ideas of my own. I just would like to know what you, the reader, want to see in this column.
Thanks again to all of you who have dropped me a proverbial line and until next time, keep on reading and if you do get a chance, check out an issue of Absolute Magnitude. You won't regret it.
Webpage & Graphics by Samandi Adams
Copyright (c) 2003-2004 ~ All Rights Reserved