Never Heard THAT One Before

Now I’m as happy as anyone to see Kevin Brockmeier getting his props, but why, why, why did Meghan O’Rourke feel the need to trot out her "authority" on science fiction? See for yourself:

Though The Brief History of the Dead may resemble science fiction, Brockmeier’s interests are very different from those that animate most science-fiction writers. Science fiction often tends toward allegorical tidiness (despite the alien quality of the landscape) or toward a fetishization of the alien. But like Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, this novel turns to sci-fi futurism to capture something about how foreign our near future might look to us.

Is it just me or does the verb animate in relation to science fiction writers imply that they are something less (or perhaps more?) than human? Grrr. The rest of it is fine as long as she realizes that these are BOTH SCIENCE FICTION NOVELS. (Because, as we all know, literary and SF aren’t mutually exclusive, nor are they solely defined by the section a book is shelved in.) She’d have been on solid(er) ground had she left out that whole resemble business. I say again: grrrr.

Then again, this is the same dolt who hated The Jane Austen Book Club.

UPDATED: Speaking of controversy and SF, this is hilarious. (Via Maud.)

9 thoughts on “Never Heard THAT One Before”

  1. While I agree with the theory that science fiction writers are something less than human, the very fact that this person hated The Jane Austen Book Club makes me suspect her sanity.
    But then again, consider the source.

  2. I’ve only read the short story version–haven’t read the novel yet–but isn’t Brief History actually fantasy rather than SF? It’s about a guy that dies and goes to the afterlife, no?

  3. Hey JJA: Actually, the book version comes down more heavily on the SF side, although the afterlife is still one of the two major threads of the book. It’s set in the nearish future and a virus has wiped out (most) everyone on Earth. The other main storyline, and the main plot driver, involves a woman (a scientist/wildlife specialist) left alive on the future Earth, alone in Antarctica. There are definitely fantasy elements blended throughout as we see different people in the afterlife city, but the virus stuff and Laura Byrd’s experience makes it to SF for me. (TEENY NOT REALLY A SPOILER: Ultimately, this is a “last-person-on-Earth” narrative.) And Brockmeier is very well-versed in genre, so it’s completely intentional on his part.
    Niall: Smite!

  4. It still, for me, can’t top the woman on NPR who was recommending _Passage_ by Connie Willis during one of those Talk of the Nation “summer reading” shows. She said, seriously, “this author is known for writing science fiction, but this book isn’t science fiction, because the scientific concepts in it are based on real-life science. It’s not science that exists yet, but she’s extrapolating off of work that already exists.” That was, I don’t know, the bizarro-world version of the Analog-reading hardliners, or something.

  5. How does this paragraph from the review make any sense?
    “Though The Brief History of the Dead may resemble science fiction, Brockmeier’s interests are very different from those that animate most science-fiction writers. Science fiction often tends toward allegorical tidiness (despite the alien quality of the landscape) or toward a fetishization of the alien. But like Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go, this novel turns to sci-fi futurism to capture something about how foreign our near future might look to us. Brockmeier isn’t interested in spinning out the intricacies of an alternate universe (or even in indicting capitalism). He is interested in metaphysical puzzles and riddles—in following an idea to its furthest extreme in order to confront us with a feeling of estrangement from the known. Like Kafka, he examines a metaphor until it becomes literal.”
    She seems to be saying that science-fiction tends to be allegorical, whereas Ishiguro and Brockmeier are actually trying to say something important about the future. But then she seems to be saying that what Brockmeier’s technique is to make a metaphor literal in the manner of Kafka. Wouldn’t that be pushing things towards the allegorical end of the spectrum?
    I’d love to stop seeing reviews that say things like “this may resemble science fiction, but it isn’t, really, because it’s beautifully written and it has depth to it.”
    I’m going to meditate the difference between the impulses that “animate most sf writers” vs. writers for the next few days. Or I know —
    Dear Aunt Gwenda,
    My science fiction writer has been looking pale and uninspired lately. I don’t know what’s happened, but I’m hoping that you can help me find a way to re-animate it. Ideas?
    Speaking of advicee, Slate has ditched my very favorite advice columnist! I used to wake up each Thursday and think, oh good. It’s Thursday. I can go read the new Dear Prudence.

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