[This is an essay I did for Opus magazine in 2011. Hooray!]
“Follow
your bliss and the universe will open doors where there were only walls.”
–Joseph Campbell
(1904-1987)
Hark!
Have you noticed that there are only two kinds of people who read fantasy? It’s
a social mandate. No matter what you do, you’ll be ungraciously smushed into
one mold or the other and, like it or not, you’ll come out the other end, stuck
in the prescribed shape.
The
first of these literary cookie cutters takes the form of the “chill”, cultured
guy who reads the occasional sword-and-sorcery saga in spite of the fact that
it’s a community no-no. His friends admire his grace as he lowers himself to
their level while enjoying The Lord of the Rings – or maybe something else.
The
other is a rock-bottom nerd with a neck-beard to rival that of Thoreau and
whose facebook “friends” barely exceed his roommate, his dad, his roommate’s
dad, and his youth minister’s dog. Neither of his actual friends (nor, in most
cases, his imaginary dragon) has a facebook account.
Of
course none of this is true. Written history has beaten people over the head
with evidence that distinguishes individuals from the mass of faces who believe
they’re not unique. But it’s so easy to lump people together, even if it’s only
to obtain a larger perspective. It’s what allows great thoughts to come through
now and then. Philosophy, religion, psychology, sociology, politics and
statistics would be marooned in the ether without this practice, and each of
these has provided definite benefits to humankind. So what’s a little
stereotype among geeks, then?
We
all have a little something in common, at least in the form of language,
culture and species genetics. If we didn’t, you might find this little harangue
indistinguishable from the nutrition facts on your can of club soda. However,
there’s no solid way to extend that to say what kind of person can or cannot
appreciate fantasy literature.
Take
a look at all the pronouns in use so far. Women, this example shouldn’t
surprise you. All right, men: try to picture a woman who’s enthusiastic about
LeGuin, Pullman, or Lewis (or almost any fantasy author you know, but try not
to use J.K. Rowling for this one). Got the image? Now visualize her wearing a
sweater instead of that bikini or breastplate you just imagined. I hope it’s
not too difficult. Instead of at a sci-fi convention or in a picture on the
Internet, she’s at a coffee shop or beside her living room fireplace as she
reads, her bookmark long forgotten. She’s just decided the bard is the most
relatable character so far, but she thinks he’s up to something. After all,
people like that exist in reality.
No,
it’s not only the white male who reads this stuff. Nor is it just the scrawny
middle-schooler whose only social scene is the Scrabble club. In fact, with the
right variety of culture that went into the books you choose, this genre is
perfect for opening the mind and learning to relate to nearly anyone you meet.
Fantasy was originally derived from mythology, and this doesn’t mean just
Greek. Work your way up in a culture by enthralling yourself with its Buddha or
its Osiris and see what came next and who reads it today. Simply point to any
corner of the globe and you can dig up some speculative fiction that takes its
roots from there. I promise it exists.
At
its heart, fantasy is about escaping reality for a little bit, but it doesn’t
require real life to be all that bad. Anybody can appreciate it, given the
right author. It’s a way to find a fresh change of scenery, to explore
make-believe and real-world cultures, zany or terrifying characters, and
hypothetical laws of physics that are downright incorrect and just as downright
fun to imagine. After all, without an imagination, how can you decide what kind
of person to be?
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