The Importance of Fantasy

Fantasy gets a bad rap. Perhaps it’s all the fairies and princesses, but books that belong to this sub-genre of speculative fiction are often regarded as unserious. These stories find themselves on children’s bookshelves, in beach totes, and in the first half of a sentence that typically ends with, “but I also read [insert a very impressive book].” I’ve had so many conversations dissecting the overt messages within a fantasy book or film, only to have a friend reply with, “I think you’re reading too far into it.” To those friends, I assure you that I am not. Fantasy, more so than other genres, enables its readers to reflect on the past and has the unique ability to weave metaphor into the very fabric of their reality. 

Now, before I go any further, I want to discuss what exactly “fantasy” is. According to the Encyclopedia Britannica, fantasy is “imaginative fiction [that is] dependent for effect on strangeness of setting … and characters.” This definition seems fair, until science fiction enters the fray. For example, compare Star Wars and Dune. Both take place in space, have mind-control, corrupt religious orders, and both even have gigantic, subterranean worms. Despite their similarities, one is science fiction while the other is fantasy. Can you guess which is which? Here, I’ll give you a hint. At a Fordham University English panel on speculative fiction, one of the featured authors described the distinction between science fiction and fantasy as such: “Science fiction looks ahead, while fantasy looks behind.” With that sentiment in mind, it’s clear that Dune belongs to the genre of science fiction, while Star Wars is fantasy. The former looks ahead to the very distant future that has evolved from our current reality, while the latter sets tropes from chivalric romance in space. The famous scroll at the very start of the very first Star Wars film gives it away: “A long time ago …”

Perhaps science fiction’s ability to look ahead is what makes it a more obvious category for questioning our current social mores. As a genre, it asks, who will we become? This existential question ploys upon our need to define ourselves, but also challenges us to evaluate our current social order. Yet, any student of history will argue that focusing on the present and the future is not enough to create lasting, equitable change. We also have to look to the past. 

That’s the first element of what makes fantasy so powerful. Rather than asking its readers to imagine the future, fantasy challenges them to reflect on their past. It asks, who were we once? Stories such as Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, Wheel of Time, and so many others allude to the romances of Europe’s Middle Ages, where knights defeated monsters and bantered with cunning women. Some books, such as Lord of the Rings, praise the cultural norms of chivalry, honor, and brotherhood that existed within medieval romances, as J. R. R Tolkien incorporates those characteristics into his characters. Others, such as Game of Thrones, push back on them, as George R. R. Martin depicts knights and their ladies as prideful, selfish schemers, who care little for the thousands of lives their proxy wars cost. Both of these novels create a different lens through which to view medieval Europe, encouraging their readers to potentially reassess the fascination modern audiences have with that period. 

Yet, fantasy has another, far more potent tool available: its unique ability to transform abstract concepts into physical reality. Most fantasy novels feature magic, with many of them drawing from folklore of various cultures and regions. Sometimes, however, authors use these magical elements to make abstract concepts real. How do you convey the terrifying feeling of becoming a refugee? Mohsin Ahmed populates the world of Exit West with random, temporary portals, which enable refugees from all over the world to flee their homes—never to return. How do you argue that certain Christian teachings demonize the human soul? Phillip Pullman, in His Dark Materials, materializes that soul in the form of a “daemon,” which his antagonists cut out of children in order to save them from sinning. Authors like Ahmed and Pullman, regardless of whether they’re writing “magical realism” or “high fantasy,” use the suspension of disbelief that fantasy necessitates in order to visualize abstract concepts in our world. 

As an aspiring author, I think that it’s really important to assess how the world which I am creating upholds or challenges our cultural norms. If I have learned anything from the English department at Fordham, it’s that readers can—and will—find meaning in everything. This makes me excited to incorporate meaning into my writing as much as I can, even down to the way that my characters style their hair and the objects that litter their world. 

For anyone who has not had the opportunity to learn about my project, I am writing a fantasy novel that takes place in a world with a rising tide of religious and political violence. I began thinking of this project eight years ago in 2016, after Donald Trump won the presidential election and ushered in a new era of Christian extremism. Raised in the Episcopal tradition, the church I attended throughout my childhood was very open, very welcoming, and very feminist. For example, my rector was a woman, and most of my religious education came from women. I had no idea that the ideals of Christian love could facilitate such vitriol, and witnessing it in the news shook my world view. I spent a lot of time thinking about how the same religion can support dueling ideologies, how religion can be a tool for violence, and how religion and faith differ. With those questions in my mind and heart, I sat down to write. 

My story began with a young princess, a vague prophecy, and a crumbling empire. It soon grew into an epic about a young girl seeing the world for the first time, and discovering that it’s not at all what she expected—especially when she learns of the satar’s prophecy, which explains that the gods’ final hero shall rid the land of evil. What is that evil? Well, that’s up for debate. Caught on the knife’s edge of a prophecy, Tania realizes that her whole world is about to come crashing down around her. 

So far, in my journey as a Duffy Fellow, I have had really interesting conversations and read some fascinating books. Now, I am stepping back into the world I created almost a decade ago. While I do not know what this book will look like when I am finished with the new draft, I am committed to playing into the strengths of fantasy. For one, I want to push back on the tendency for fantasy writers to base their worlds solely off of medieval Europe. While I do not get away from that completely (I do love chivalric romances), I also intend to draw inspiration from Rome, Persia, Egypt and other ancient civilizations. I also intend to incorporate more magic into the story, using the limitless bounds of imagination to sharpen my story’s themes. In the original draft, there’s little to no magic. In the new draft, there’ll be plenty of gods and monsters. 

My goal for this book is that it’ll be fun to read, without diluting its driving themes. With that goal in mind, there is no better genre for my story than fantasy.