Brian
Aldiss is one of science fiction’s most versatile participants. Active in a wide variety of areas, from
novel-length fiction to shorter works, editor to columnist, playwright to poet,
he is even a painter. His most active
years as a novelist in the 60s and 70s, in 1973 he became a scholar, publishing
Billion Year Spree a history of
science fiction. Thirteen years later, the
development of sf having continued apace, he recruited author David Wingrove and
together they revised the volume, updating content for the writers and novels
that appeared in the meantime. The title
was also extended; Trillion Year Spree
appeared in 1986.
Starting
with Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and
ending with the arrival of cyberpunk, Trillion
Year Spree is an attempt to outline the history of science fiction, or, in
the author’s words, “to provide a
countour map without surveying every tree.”
Organized ever-so-roughly in chronological order, Aldiss and Wingrove
take the reader through the development of the field the past three
centuries. All major and some lesser
known writers are covered, most often with brief discussions on their major
works, as well as commentary on their place in the larger context of the genre.
If
the sheer number of awards (i.e. what is actually, really, truly, honestly, the
best) is any indication, then it’s fair to say opinion in the science fiction
community is split amongst a large number of views and groups. This is the long way of saying Aldiss and
Wingrove’s definition of science fiction as a literary mode (as opposed to
genre) will not be to every reader’s satisfaction, but can nevertheless not
fail to cast light on the concept given the stable foundation they build their
argument from.
Championing
works that fall into the classically-veined style of literature (i.e.
examinations of the human condition) and criticizing the lighter, escapist side
of genre, Trillion Year Spree does
not withhold its opinion stick, either.
Bashing admiration and abhorrence left and right, the book cuts a wide swath through science
fiction, relegating many beloved texts to the pulp pile while elevating more
ambitious texts to the heights of acclaim.
Edgar Rice Burroughs and Hugo Gernsback are identified as the writers
primarily responsible for taking sf to the gutter, and Asimov and Heinlein are
taken to task for the writing of shoddy and pulpit-banging fiction
(respectively) that failed to evolve the field as a whole. (There is a great quote from an Asimov’s reader in the 60s who laments
the magazine’s decision to include more literary pieces and requests more
escapist material.) Meanwhile, writers
like Olaf Stapledon, Thomas Disch, H.G. Wells, Ursula Le Guin, Keith Roberts,
and others are praised for staying the course Shelley initially set the genre
on.
The
criticism of science fiction’s less ambitious entries is well warranted and
often backed with textual or contextual evidence. But for a history of the genre that seems to
strongly desire advocating the literary side of sf, an imbalance appears. While the imbalance seems natural when
looking at the spectrum of sf (certainly the majority of the material published
is more commercial than literary in nature), Aldiss and Wingrove nevertheless
do not go out of their way to examine the nooks and crannies of sf and promote
the truly literary texts. Certainly some
titles few mainstream sf readers will know are discussed (e.g. Anna Kavan’s Ice), but by and large the majority of
the discussion is focused on mainstream, well-known authors, regardless of
their literary bent. In this they cater
to core genre readers rather than the broader reading audience, and perhaps do
not take advantage of an opportunity to better represent the literary side of
the field.
Trillion Year Spree is not against
digression. When the larger cultural or
social context seems to require, particularly as the authors build their
argument regarding the initial evolution of sf, sidebars are granted. Edgar Allen Poe, despite writing only a handful
of short stories nominally considered sf, is given significant page time regarding
his mode of writing and how it served to spurn and influence later writers who
wrote stories more recognizably sf.
J.R.R. Tolkien, despite writing what nobody would consider sf, is also
woven into the fabric of the genre in contextual fashion. To be fair, Aldiss and Wingrove state at the
outset they are not sticking to any limited or narrow definition of science
fiction, but the quantity of content clearly related to fantasy wadded onto the
text sometimes seems more spurious than warranted.
While
I will not get into the argument regarding how much text Wingrove supplied for Trillion after contributing none to Billion, the narrative backbone
indicates a firm grasp on the evolution of sf.
Perhaps the strongest aspect of Trillion
Year Spree is its linking of authors to their predecessors. Perhaps the biggest reason for some of the
early, digressive material, the ideological and stylistic paths of modern
writers are traced back to earlier practitioners. William Gibson following upon Philip K. Dick
following upon A.E. van Vogt, for example.
Moreover, the pair capture the larger social and cultural context in
which sf was being written. The American
pulps, which did much to cheapen what Shelley, Verne, and Wells had
accomplished, were largely intended for a juvenile audience, not to mention
were the product of publishing technology, it being easier and cheaper to
produce the magazines than novels. The
emergence of more literary writers in the 1950s is presented as not only a
response to the juvenile nature of earlier genre, but also possibilities due to
advances in printing technology.
One
of the interesting ideas in the latter chapters of Trillion Year Spree is the feeling of being overwhelmed by the
volume of sf titles available. At one
point, the authors state that it is impossible to read enough sf books in one
year to remain up to date on the field.
That was the mid-80s, and accordingly they correctly predict the wider development
of the genre. Another correct prediction
is the manner in which literary and mainstream texts would bleed into sf, and
vice versa. Looking at the field today,
we see a near complete merging of the two.
It’s quite often impossible in the 21 st century to clearly
differentiate what is and isn’t sf, indicating Aldiss and Wingrove had their
noses to the wind more than three decades ago.
In
the end, Trillion Year Spree is a
quality attempt at quantifying the history of science fiction. Giving relatively blanket coverage to the
titles and authors appearing over the years, the authors are nevertheless not
shy about offering opinion—an informed opinion in the least—about said titles
and authors. As Gary
K. Wolfe writes, many later histories of the genre were written in response
to Billion/Trillion Year Spree. A benchmark, of sorts, it certainly is
material that cannot fail to educate, as well as rile opinion when readers’
favorite works are backed or berated.
Popularity, after all, does not automatically equal quality, and Aldiss
and Wingrove attempt to keep the bar high looking back.
I am interested in how they view Arthur C. Clarke's fiction. Clarke always seemed to me to be a writer smack bang in the middle of pulp and literary merit. He genuinely eschewed adventure "tales" within the stories, but the stories themselves seemed firmly placed within genre lines, while the writing itself could be poetic, thoughtful, and quite touching... sometimes.
ReplyDeleteFunny you should mention that. While reading Trillion Year Spree I asked myself the same question. The interesting thing is, it seems neither did the authors know how to address him. Clarke receives much less page time than I thought he would, and the comments that are made are more objective than qualitative. For example, Childhood's End is looked at more for its place in genre rather than content...
DeleteHi again...
ReplyDeleteI remember I felt it was "a condenst" version compared to "Billion". More of a compromise to those commercial wishes from the bookmarket.