I am not a big fan of dystopian novels, and I haven’t read many. Nor would I ever attempt to write one. I simply lack the imagination necessary to come up with a story that turns my known world upside down, a story in which everything I love becomes forbidden or has been destroyed. I have, in fact, read only two dystopian novels: 1984 by George Orwell and The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. And they are now constantly on my mind.
Reality is catching up with fiction; the times in which we live are becoming more and more dystopian. Much of the content in those two novels is becoming a part of our daily dose of news: Two large continents in eternal strife, both trying to gobble up the rest of the globe into their spheres of influence if not outright possession. 2 + 2 = 5, we are told and are expected to accept it as truth. Half of the population lives under the influence of disinformation. Women have been robbed of their right of bodily autonomy in great swathes of the one superpower. There is also an ongoing attempt to rob them of their right to vote. The international order under the direction of the North Atlantic alliances that have kept peace since World War II is being undermined. And a totally unnecessary trade war has been unleashed by that same aforementioned superpower.
What can a fiction writer do in the midst of this malaise? Is it the writer’s mission to write novels and short stories that entertain and allow readers to forget/deny what is happening around them? Should authors address these ills in every way possible, targeting them and seeking solutions? Or should they stay apolitical? In these dire times, is it even possible to write fiction? These are the questions that each writer must answer for him or herself.
Photos from Wikicommons
Nice post, Debbie. I love dystopian fiction. I read a lot of it, and I’ve written a dystopian novel too, so it’s a subject close to my heart.
Years ago, I recall ask my Grandma what her biggest fear was when she was raising my dad. Her answer was the Cold War. I asked my dad the same question. His answer was Thatcher’s England. Is it simply a case of a different generation, different challenges? Or is this era particularly more nefarious than others? Maybe we can look back at history to help us inform the present.
On the one hand, I want dystopian fiction to not turn into dystopian fact. But on the other hand, it’s fascinating to know what’s next for the Human Experiment. Some things are moving so quickly, namely AI, that it feels already out of our hands and we just have to see how it plays out.
Will humanity further embrace it, or pull a 180 and go back to our roots, embracing once again what it feels like to be human? What will happen when nothing is true anymore? Will we essentially accept an entire ecosystem where all you see is a lie, or finally fight back and try to rediscover what it means for something to be a stonewall fact?
I’ve been thinking a lot about this question, possibly as a potential idea for a new book: What would the world be like if nothing was true?
Annoyingly, the question might be answered before I get a chance to pen a first draft…
Your fellow Pens member, Michael (commenting from a different laptop!).
Thanks for your response, Michael. (We’ve been on holiday, thus the delayed reaction. )
For me, the problem with dystopian fiction is that it is indeed fiction. It can be enjoyed as fition. But when reality is becoming distopian, it’s no fun at all. I find it difficult to philosophize about.
I’ve just watched John Mulaney’s A Horse in a Hospital (it passed me by five years ago) but still equally applicable.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JhkZMxgPxXU
Thanks for the link, Gail. That really is funny but every bit as relevant as 5 years ago.
You mention the possible responsilities of an author to provide the world with the reading it needs. As it happens, I’m drafting my upcoming Writing Life blog and touched upon exactly the same subject.
I stopped to consider this role of authors: should they write what the world needs, be it entertainment, distraction, inspiration, direction or reminders of the consequences of allowing a political trajectory to continue. My conclusion, much as I would like as an author to be charged with such responsibilities, thereby feeling my work has value over and beyond sales and artistic satisfaction, is the negative. Effectively, there are an infinite number of authors out there, and just as among an infinite number of monkeys hitting the keys of a typewriter, one will produce the entire works of Shakespeare (a trivial conclusion: an infinite number of monkeys would produce Shakespeare and every other written work!). Any reader seeking a particular type of work will be able to find it, and one cannot force readers to read what you think they should read.
Equally, I don’t think this bleak conclusion should stop any author being passionate about presenting to the world what they think the world should know. They can only speak to the converted, those who are far enough down that path to seek out and buy your book, but maybe you can take them a bit further.
The danger lies in not being humble about it: if you feel it IS your duty, rather than simply your desire, to write, you are likely to be disappointed. I’m not too happy with this situation, but I am thankful that I have recognised it and adjusted my expectations to suit.
Good take on this issue, Rachel. I personally don’t see it as my duty to write about the political situation. If anything, I am motivated by anger that people can be so stupid as to vote against their own interests. And now we watch as the country, and the world as we knew it, burns.
Congratulations on taking the plunge, Rachel. It sounds intriguing!