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Why
I Dig Working In The Cultural Gutter
By
Jim Munroe
For a long time,
I've always felt a little weird about the third question people ask me at parties.
"What do you do?"
"I'm a novelist."
"Oh! Really! Have you had anything published?"
"Yep, I have three books out there."
"What kind of writing is it that you do?"
"Well...it's kind of science-fiction influenced stuff."
You see the side-step
there? Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with being a science-fiction
writer. I would be happy to be a straight-up science-fiction writer, but I feel
like I'd be guilty of misrepresentation. I feel like I don't take it seriously
enough.
But when I started
on my fourth book, I realized: "Good Lord, I'm writing another one!"
I am drawn to the genre -- my mind leans toward creating stories like this.
I like writing in a genre that is more interested in the mechanics of lightspeed
than the mechanics of a well-turned phrase -- equally esoteric pursuits. This
unpretentiousness, this lack of pressure to be a genius, lets me tell the story
without consciously twisting a sentence into an artistic shape or clumsily dabbing
the landscape with symbols. Plus, I like robots.
See what I'm saying
about the not-taking-it-seriously-enough stuff?
Well, c'mon. It's
SCIENCE FICTION. Intelligent people, on the whole, dismiss it as juvenile --
the puerile fantasies of teenagers. They cede it might be entertaining, certainly,
appropriate fodder for blockbuster movies, but it's not really literature.
And I'm happy
they think that.
A few years back
I started getting really interested in video games -- playing them, making them,
talking about them. And I noticed that there were marked similarities in people's
cultural perception of video games and science fiction.
I
would talk with my friends about my experiences with video games in the same
way that I'd talk about a movie or another piece of art: "In most games, you
smash open a crate, you get either weapons or supplies that you can pick up,
or it'll be empty. But in Halflife, even the empty crates have something
-- you get this randomized pile of computer parts motherboards or whatever,
it's a great touch."
My appreciation
for a game's detailing, tone, and visceral engagement would usually get a laugh
despite my sincerity. The disparity between applying high art analysis to low
art, or even talking sincerely about something so frivolous, was a clear violation
of mainstream cultural norms.
And I like violating
those norms. The same way that I enjoy hearing people tell me: "I don't like
science fiction...but I like your books!" I like to think that this begins to
erode a bias, that it prods people to form their own taste rather than lazily
deferring to filters like corporate media in either their publishing or reviewing
capacities.
I made another
connection between games and science fiction when I was reading an article on
the once-brilliant, now dormant RobotStreetGang.com. It was about how videogames
were being written about in the way that comics were being written about a decade
ago -- when the term "graphic novel" was coined -- where comics were being touted
as the new literature, and comics like Watchmen were being studied in
universities. The article brought up the point that although comics had certainly
changed since then, they hadn't become respectable, and that the same was likely
to happen with video games.
Irredeemable.
Comics, science fiction, video games, and lately even porn -- declared Worthy
of Note, but rolling like errant pennies back into the gutter.
There's
a line of argument in the fandom of science fiction, gaming, and comics that
this is a great injustice, that these genres should get more respect. I say
the hell with that. There is a lot of great art being made in these genres,
there's also a lot of crap -- case in point, Philip
K. Dick. Some amazing books, gripping and enthralling stories that communicate
perfectly his paranoia to the most balanced of readers. Some crappy books that
feature LSD gas, LSD darts, LSD cola, and plotlines only an acidhead could make
sense of. But I would argue that while his oeuvre wasn't consistently good quality,
there's something fascinating about each book, even if it's watching Phil scratch
his itch.
But gutter genres
aren't known for their subtlety. In fact, their obviousness and their barenakedness
is why they're destined to remain beneath the radar of Serious Culture -- and
why they will continue to thrive despite this. Where else can you experience
dreams of power and heroism as directly as through a superhero comic? Or take
out your aggression as primally by smashing in the face of a digital opponent?
Meet the Other as obviously as on a voyage to another planet? Indulge a sexual
peccadillo either mundane or less-mundane?
I mean, it's obvious
that anything that is as upfront and honest about what we fantasize about as
a species is of immense cultural value. But don't tell the intelligentsia --
if they caught on, it would take all the fun out of it.
Recommended
Reading:
Purchase
Jim Munroe's Everyone
In Silico at BookSense.com.
Further Reading:
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