I like Margaret Atwood. A lot. I like her novels. I like her poetry. I like her essays. No writer is perfect and Atwood is no exception. But I tend to consider that even a not so stellar Atwood work is still pretty fine work. So it was with great anticipation that I bought a copy of In Other Worlds: SF and the Human Imagination. And so it is that I admit I was really disappointed with this book.
My disappointment isn’t with the writing, which is crisp and insightful, or with Atwood continuing to argue that she doesn’t write science fiction, though this is a disappointment of a different kind. No, my disappointment with the book is that much of it was already published in two other books, Writing with Intent and Good Bones and Simple Murders. That is not to say there isn’t material collected here for the first time, there is. There are the Ellmann lectures she delivered at Emory University in 2010 and a handful of book reviews published in various venues that had not been collected together before. But the new material makes up not quite half of this 250 page book.
Scifi fans may remember the kerfuffle after Ursula K. Le Guin’s 2009 Guardian review of Atwood’s Year of the Flood in which Le Guin takes a bit of umbrage at Atwood insisting that her, Atwood’s, novels are not science fiction. In In Other Worlds Atwood seems to be trying to mend some fences. In the introduction she explains that it all turned out to be just a silly difference of semantics. Atwood writes speculative fiction, defining that term to be fiction about things that may not have happened yet but that could happen. She sees speculative fiction as descending from Jules Verne. Science fiction, according to Atwood’s definition, is about things that could not possibly happen like a Martian invasion ala War of the Worlds. Turns out Le Guin’s definition of science fiction is the same as Atwood’s speculative fiction and Atwood’s definition of science fiction is what Le Guin would call “fantasy.”
Just semantics, see? Except it’s not because the majority of people who read science fiction operate under Le Guin’s definition, a definition that is fairly well established among both readers and writers. Atwood refusing to call certain of her novels science fiction is like saying Agatha Christie wrote fiction about problem-solving. But that’s not what In Other Worlds is about. That’s just the introduction. The rest of the book is a sort of peace offering as if Atwood is saying, see, I like science fiction, I have nothing against it, I love scifi and spent long nights with a flashlight under the blanket gobbling up pulp scifi novels as a kid. Heck, she tells us, she even has an unfinished Ph.D. dissertation on science fiction.
The Ellmann lectures turn out to be interesting. In them she suggests that modern day science fiction evolved out of our myth-making past. She traces a line from the Bible all the way to “Planet X.” And it is an interesting and convincing line. One of the lectures is also about utopian and dystopian fiction. In it she notes that each contains a kernel of the other. Then she goes on to invent a term for her own fiction, “ustopian,” in order to reflect her consciously including the seeds of utopia in dystopia and vice versa. The term just doesn’t work for me and kind made me think that she was trying to escape certain kinds of labels again.
And about those labels. I am all for creating new labels when a work is truly innovative and goes beyond the labels and genre traditions as we currently know them. But for all of Atwood’s insistence that her books are not what everyone else takes them to be, she protests too much. Her work is neither genre-bending nor innovative. This is not a bad thing by any means. A good writer can say interesting things in new and interesting ways, can tell a good story, can be insightful and creative within the already existing traditions of a genre, dystopian science fiction for instance. And Atwood is a very good writer; one of the best writing today I’d argue. But here I go digressing.
Back to the book. Besides the lectures, the other pieces in the book are mostly book reviews. Atwood writes a good book review. But as I mentioned earlier, a many of these were already published in other collections. Also, reading all these essays together gets a bit repetitive because Atwood tends to talk about the same thing across different pieces in somewhat similar terms. If I have to read the words “brass brassieres and bug-eyed monsters” one more time, I might just take a running leap off the Cliffs of Insanity. Consider yourselves warned.
I don’t want to leave you with the impression that this is a bad book. It isn’t. Only, if you’ve read Atwood’s other essay collections the only thing in this book truly of interest will be the Ellmann lectures and the couple of previously uncollected essays. Whether that is worth your time or money, you’ll have to decide for yourself.
The ustopian thing really confuses me, because, well the majority of dystopias contain some upotian seeds don’t they? That’s why so many dystopias are often said to end of such a hopeful note – oh everything’s terrible now, but just imagine how it’s all going to change because of the actions of the fine people we’ve just spent a book with. Sure, there are some really nihilistic dystopian worlds (The Road sounds like one of those, although I’ve yet to go right to the end with that one) and ones where everyone is defeated and there’s no hope whatsoever (1984, um maybe The Carhullan Army), but if anything they’re the exceptional dystopian sub categories while the utopia after the dystopia is a majority trend.
I guess that doesn’t mean it couldn’t have a different label formulated for it, if Atwood really doesn’t feel like dystopia applies, although it does seem to go a bit far to imply that these stories are definitely leading to a utopia, which is such an ideal, rather than just a better than apocalyptic world, but I don’t think the distinction’s for me.
Hi Stef, Thanks for all this good information. I don’t like Margaret Atwood much. But I think I’d be interested in her lectures and book reviews. So thanks for introducing these to me. Here’s an example of a review about a book you didn’t like, that is helpful to other readers. A reason to write reviews even when you don’t like the book!!
So far I just haven’t been able to get into Atwood at all but I’ve really liked everything I’ve read of Ursula Le Guin’s books and short stories – so I’m with Ursula. Hope you had a good Christmas and Solstice!
Wot’s in a name? she says. Except that we librarians want names and lables so we can classify books. I fear though that people get way too bogged own in labels and sometimes to the detriment of appreciating the work itself. Who cares, really, WHAT something is if it is good?
As for Margaret Atwood being or not being innovative is an interesting question. Must admit I haven’t read her recent books but I have read several. I think about Alias Grace and The handmaid’s tale. They may not be particularly innovative in form and yet they seem to me to be more than the “genres” they might be classified as.
Whatever, thanks for this thoughtful and thought-provoking post Stefanie.
This is the second somewhat meh review of this I see in only a few days. It’s a shame, because I think I’d agree with you, and I’ve been really looking forward to this one. It’s especially disappointing that she still won’t call a spade a spade, particularly because I somehow got into my head that these essays would be about how she came to embrace the term sci-fi. I’m glad she no longer goes for “squids in outer space” definitions, but yeah – while she’s an amazing writer, her work doesn’t strike me as needing a label of its very own. But I’ll definitely still pick up the book and see what I think.
You’re right that Atwood isn’t genre-bending or innovative (despite being one of the most important novelists of the late 20th century) and I think that is one reason why the sf community has taken such offence in the definition row. Not only is she trying to set herself apart from other sf writers like Le Guin, and making a fuss about the kind of novel she writes, but she’s doing it while reworking classic sf ideas in a not particularly exciting way. I’ve heard sf fans dismiss her because she’s ‘stuck up’ and derivative. The whole thing gets in the way of appreciating her work, which is so deserving of closer reading.
I don’t believe I’ve ever read any of Atwood’s essays, so I wouldn’t be bothered by the repetition. I do think I’d be disappointed by her seeming desire to create special categories for her own work, which like others here have said, is not particularly innovative in form and style (despite being very, very good). I tend to take WhisperingGums view in that I don’t care what something is called, as long as it’s good, and good (and bad) books can exist in all genres. For me, genre markers are little more than clues to the subject matter and not indicators of quality.
This was really interesting. I can see why Atwood calls her work speculative fiction, but I don’t understand why she has to quibble about everyone else defining it that way, too. I’ve only read a few of her books, none of the essays. I think if I’d already read the previous collections I’d be annoyed to find this one so repetitive, too.
What an insightful review, thank you, Stefanie. As you know, I am a HUGE [not only in the sense of bodily] fan of Margaret Atwood — but as I have repeatedly thumbed through this new book in the store[s], I have refrained from buying it.
I would instantly buy a new flat-out novel from her.
All it has to say on the cover is “A Novel” and I’m there.
But what you mention about repetition etc., [previous publishings] I have sensed this from the thumb-through.
Sometimes I think that bona-fide artists are pressured to re-invent themselves. Or to produce something pseudo-new. I am reminded of a Foreigner concert I was at, where I sat there in the seat masticating my sweat-crinkled $100 ticket stub, thinking that I myself can sing better than Lou Gramm, on stage.
In a word, I prefer Atwood the novelist, to Atwood the essayist, or even poet.
Such an interesting post, with so many intriguing elements. I am most curious as to why Atwood resists the sci-fi label, and my own feeling is that unfinished PhD on science fiction has to feature highly in there somewhere. PhDs do odd things to your mind, and to start one but not finish it would be pretty scarring. I should think sci-fi became a crippling mental term for her, which is not something a writer wants. After all, we pretty much all play the semantics game when we need to outwit our minds with their violent resistances (I’m not going to a party! Just an intimate gathering/ collection of old friends/ brief get-together, etc, etc).
And I do think it’s naughty of publishers to repackage in this way.
Hmm…I never really thought of Atwood’s books as science fiction. I guess I go by her definition of the genre. But labeling books is so confusing and I always struggle with books that don’t stick closely to the genre rules.
Jodie, the ustopian thing confused me a lot too. I just don’t see a need for such a label. As you point out, dystopias do often end on an optimistic note. Utopia’s also generally have a snake in the garden, so to speak. I suppose ustopia can be useful for talking about utopian and dystopian fiction as a single entity, but surely there is already a common term in use? I don’t know for sure. I’ve read plenty of the fiction but not much in the way of discussion of it.
Kathleen, I’m glad you found the information helpful! Atwood has a dry wit in her nonfiction writing that can come across as sarcasm sometimes, but I find that she often has some interesting things to say. If you try the book, I hope you enjoy it!
Katrina, I like Le Guin very much too. Atwood does have a really good essay on Left Hand of Darkness you might enjoy. The holidays have been wonderful here. I hope yours have been good too!
WG, wot’s in a name indeed!
I agree that labels can bog things down and keep certain readers from choosing certain books. If a book is good the label doesn’t matter at all to me. The main issue Le Guin had with Atwood denying she wrote scifi is that there is a whole tradition and context that Atwood’s novels as scifi fit into and with it comes a way in which to examine the work and discuss it. Le Guin felt forced to discuss Year of the Flood as though it were realist fiction, which it isn’t. Of course there is also the issue of Atwood appearing “too good” for scifi, which, along with so much other genre fiction, is “ghettoized.” Atwood is definitely not innovative when it comes to form, but I agree her storytelling and subject matter is first rate and often deeply revealing and insightful.
Nymeth, I don’t understand why Atwood has to be so contrary when it comes to definitions. Maybe she is worried she won’t be read if here books get moved to the scifi section. Do pick up the book and see what you think. I look forward to your thoughts!
Victoria, yes, you have pinned the whole thing down exactly! For a woman as smart as Atwood is, I know she has her reasons for denying the sf label, but I wish she’d explain herself a bit better. Her speculative v sf definition and reasoning just doesn’t work or me. It seems a bit dishonest.
Teresa, yes, I agree with you about genre markers and I think most readers probably feel the same. Those who read Atwood don’t really care what genre her books are in, we just appreciate top notch writing. If you read In Other Worlds I will be interested in what you think of it!
Jeane, that’s the thing about a book, a writer can say it’s one thing but its the readers who are going to ultimately make the decision. Since you’ve not read her nonfiction before, you might find the book a good one.
Cipriano, Atwood the novelist is brilliant and I will always love her work even if she continues to insist she doesn’t write scifi. Her poetry is really good too if you ever feel so inclined. Her essays are also excellent in general. She is a smart woman and has some interesting things to say. You may want to just read the beginning part of the book, the lectures. You might enjoy them especially the first one where she talks about the stories she wrote as a child about a superhero rabbit.
Litlove, unfinished Ph.D.s really mess people up that much? Glad I stopped with a master’s! I suspect that all the pulp scifi she read as a kid also contributed to her unwillingness to see some of her books being in the scifi tradition. I also suspect the book is mostly the work of those naughty repackaging publishers worrying about the bottom line.
Nish, not all of Atwood’s books are scifi, her most recent two are but the couple she wrote before that weren’t. She flirts with the genre but then doesn’t like it when people try to apply a label.
This sounds exactly like Kate Atkinson–who writes literary fiction and then started writing mysteries featuring Jackson Brodie–but then denied she writes mysteries (genre=not literary) and calls the books, yes, you guessed it, literary fiction. Whatever–I like her books in any case–even the mysteries! I love Margaret Atwood and read loads of her books years ago, and then nothing since–none of her essays or poetry, but I am very interested in Oryx and Crake and The Year of the Flood (maybe I should read them next year, too). Too bad this book has old material just repackaged–I looked at it when it came to the library, but I think I’d like to return to her fiction first. Loved your post–you totally cracked me up and make me want to read more sci fi now, too. Can you tell I am easily persuaded?
Danielle, I didn’t know that about Kate Atkinson! Seems to be a trend to write genre and then deny that you do. I very much enjoyed Oryx and Crake and Year of the Flood. They both approach the same story from a different perspective and it is very well done. And I don’t think you are so easily persuaded. You had already made up your mind, now you just have a supporting reason
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