(no subject)

[tinyjo]

I've just finished reading Set This House In Order by Matt Ruff. It's an excellent book in my opinion; a fascinating idea well executed and beautifully written. I just don't understand why it's up for the ousfg award. I couldn't see any genre elements at all - it's outstanding, yes, but it's mainstream fiction.

The other thing I found rather interesting was what I assume is a new idea by publishers to give books a bit of extra interest. At the end was a small section entitled "P.S.", which had an interview with the author, a summary of some of the critical reaction and a short article summarizing some of the position of MPD in the psychiatric world today plus a couple of other bits I didn't read. It was interesting, but it was mostly a little light for my taste - I would have preferred particularly the critical section to be a proper critical essay rather than just a summary of gushing comments. Still, I wonder if it's something we'll be seeing more of.

Comments

[coalescent.livejournal.com]

I think there are two differences. Firstly, the House in Andy Gage's head has a kind of reality that daydreams just don't--it's actually a separate world that he can immerse himself in, with other personalities he can talk to. Secondly, it won the Tiptree, which is specifically for sf. ;-)

I wasn't sure that I thought it was genre when I first read it, but on reflection I think it is.

[tinyjo.livejournal.com]

The house in his head is more real to him than a daydream is to someone, but it's still something entirely internal to him, a mental construct. That type of thing has been described by patients diagnosed with MPD although it's impossible to know whether their experience is visceral. Basically it seems to me that there's nothing in the book which is doesn't or couldn't exist now.

I'm very surprised that it won the Tiptree - I think it's even less genre than the Separation, which I think was a bit of a cheat for the Clarke awards but feels at least arguable.

<rant> I think that if we want the writers of real genre literature to be taken seriously then its important that we stop this thing of saying "Well that's really good, and if you twist it and turn it you can almost pretend it counts so we'll grab it". There's good books and great writing both inside and outside genre and both can be celebrated without threatening each-other.</rant>

Thats a bit of a tangent, but you see what I mean, I hope?

[coalescent.livejournal.com]

I'm very surprised that it won the Tiptree - I think it's even less genre than the Separation, which I think was a bit of a cheat for the Clarke awards but feels at least arguable.

On the other hand, it does definitely expand or explore our understanding of gender. :)

Thats a bit of a tangent, but you see what I mean, I hope?

Yes ... the year that The Separation won I'd have preferred Light to take the award; and this year I'd give River of Gods the nod over Cloud Atlas for at least of the same reasons. And yet, the fact that neither Priest's book nor Mitchell's has both its feet firmly within the genre doesn't stop them being sf in my opinion. The genre is a community of people writing sf, but what people outside that community write can be sf too.

Of course Priest is a genre writer, but YKWIM. It works the other way--Pattern Recognition is ace, and interesting for how it relates to sf, but it is not itself sf, despite the fact that Gibson is a genre writer. The Baroque Cycle I'm agnostic on; I've heard that The System of the World does have significant genre elements, but I don't know the details.

Going back to the Ruff, you could say that it's a Gibson case, in that he's written emphatically genre stuff before (blurb for Sewer Gas Electric: America 2023--at the helm, the talking, holographic head of Ayn Rand in a hurricane lamp ... and Harry Gant is building a new Tower of Babel five hundred stories above the polluted streets of Manhattan!) so he's being claimed by the genre even when he's moved out of it. But I don't think that's the case.

[tinyjo.livejournal.com]

On the other hand, it does definitely expand or explore our understanding of gender. :)

Now that I can definitely agree with!

Going back to the Ruff, you could say that it's a Gibson case ... he's being claimed by the genre even when he's moved out of it. But I don't think that's the case.

Yes, I think that's basically how I see it. I haven't read any of the other books, but I read that synopsis in the back of SYHIO and thought it sounded interesting! For me, a fantasy novel has to take us outside the universe as it really is in some way, be that another world, magic in this one, whatever. SYHIO just doesn't do that as far as I'm concerned. Its a book about real people and what they do inside their heads to deal with their mental illness.

And yet, the fact that neither Priest's book nor Mitchell's has both its feet firmly within the genre doesn't stop them being sf in my opinion.

There is a border line there. I haven't read the Mitchell, but I felt with the Priest that whether it was a genre book or not was kind of down to how you interpreted bits of it, which is fine. In that case though, I could see where the genre reading was coming from although I don't necessarily agree with it (it's a while since I've read it so I'm speaking partially from hearsay here). In the case of the Ruff, I just don't see it (see above). I think that even accepting a genre reading of the Priest, the genre elements are very much in the background of what he's trying to do in the book, and perhaps that's what encourages the ambiguity of it's placement. I agree though that it's often both useful and interesting to take a broad view of the genre and include books which fall in the borderlands.

The genre is a community of people writing sf, but what people outside that community write can be sf too.

That's interesting. I don't see the genre primarily or indeed at all really in terms of people. It's a collection of books with similar devices, exploring areas and themes and telling stories using similar methodologies. I don't tend to think of writers as having genre per se - it's books that have genre and authors can write in one or many genres during their career. Take Atwood for example - she's written excellent books on both sides. So whether a book is SF or not, to me, is completely independant of who the writer is and their other works (assume here that part-works are considered together).

It's just a shame that for some reason (I blame bookshops and fans equally), when a writer has written genre books the only way he can get his non-genre books acknowledged as non-genre is to change his name (c.f. MM/MMS, IB/IMB).

[coalescent.livejournal.com]

That's interesting. I don't see the genre primarily or indeed at all really in terms of people. It's a collection of books with similar devices, exploring areas and themes and telling stories using similar methodologies.

That's what I would call the style. Or possibly the mode. Because the thing is, there are two types of writers who write sf--those who consciously come out of the traditions of sf, and those who do not. The former are the genre, the latter are not. That doesn't mean that everything a genre write writes is sf--see again Gibson--as you say, books are treated on a case-by-case basis.

This is distinct from the concept of genre as a marketing category, and should in fact possibly be described using another word altogether ...

[pthalo]

I used to have an entire planet. I'm thinking now that it was inside (I first remember going there at the age of 2, and I felt that I was leaving the body and going somewhere else, but as I got older I understood that it was probably a world inside me not outside me.) The doors were closed when I was 15 though (or possibly a bit earlier, I just didn't notice) and I was told by the guardians that I didn't need it anymore.

When I'm inside now, there's just an empty room. I'd be interested in seeing the planet again, just as a tourist even. When I'm in the room, I like to float near the ceiling. I'm usually aware of what's going on with the body, and can communicate with the little one, but if she's out, she's in charge. I'm just a voice in her head. I should ask the little one what the inside is like for her. She might see it differently or she might have keys to rooms I've forgotten about.

That book sounds fascinating. :)