The Hidden Power and Importance of Writing Fantasy

The hidden power of fantasy as commentary, and why as the genre should never be maligned.

Whenever I tell people I’m an author, their next question is almost immediately “what kind of books do you write?” More often than not, I become pre-emptive in my defensiveness about the fact that I am currently writing a series of fantasy books.

It’s a response that has caused me to do much soul-searching as to why I feel this vague sense of shame about the genre I love. I think the most significant factor for this is the not uncommon perception that fantasy is somehow beneath other genres, that it reserved for childish escapism, or unhealthy adulation, for children, or people who want to remain in some way, children.

When I duly did the rounds of pitching my first manuscript to agents or publishers, for those who were accepting unsolicited manuscripts, one of the few genres which consistently was not accepted was fantasy. Yet a recent study conducted by #loveozya (admittedly with limitations on the sample, but nevertheless an interesting indicator) had fantasy as the second highest element that respondents indicated they wished to see more of in books. We are told by publishers and agents who style themselves as guardians of the literary community, that fantasy doesn’t sell, or that it’s an oversaturated market. Yet fantasy books—certainly in the young adult and new adult categories—are among the biggest movers. Think only of Jay Kristoff’s Nevernight chronicles, Leigh Bardugo’s GrishaVerse, or anything by Sarah J Maas. And that’s without going into the ‘adult’ fantasy genres of George R R Martin, Brandon Sanderson, or Raymond E Feist (just to name the first three who popped into my head).

Please don’t mistake this as a dig at the literary industry. Certainly, there are elements of it which frustrate me, and I ultimately made the decision to become an indie author rather than pursue traditional publication at this time, but that doesn’t mean that the literary industry is some behemoth that cannot see past its own shadow to actually interpret reader trends. For the most part, it is filled with people who are passionate about books, who are champions for authors, and who do a wonderful job day in day out. This article is about the malign which is often aimed at fantasy, and it seeks to explore why that perception is a silly one.

So, why should we laud the fantasy genre?

Because it is fundamentally a place where the human experience is transposed into a different environment (I could go on about the creativity and fastidiousness required to build an internal consistent fantasy world, but perhaps let’s leave that for another article) and then examined. Fundamentally, contemporary human beings are put in situations far removed from the society in which we currently reside, and the experiences they undergo—even the fabric of the world created by the author—speaks to something about human nature, some facet which the author is seeking to explore.

What is particularly startling and wonderful about this is it enables a point to be made without it becoming enmired within contemporaneous politics which can at times, leave readers resistant to actually engaging with the message itself.

Let’s take for instance one of my favourite fantasy series of all time, The Song of the Lioness Quartet by Tamora Pierce.

In essence, Pierce’s protagonist, Alanna, disguises herself as a boy to undergo knight’s training, because she lives in a silly society where it’s deemed only men are fit for such roles. Along the way, not only does Alanna succeed in becoming a knight, but she ends up being better than basically every man around her. In the world that she creates, Pierce masterfully conveys the message that women are just as capable as men, and that success and skill is the consequence of incredibly hard work.

Or, take The Lumatere Chronicles by Melina Marchetta (author of Looking for Alibrandi—studied by many Australian year 10 English classes). The first book has a consistent thread of how the refugees from Lumatere were treated, thus making it a very meaningful commentary on how the plight of refugees is inherently determined by those upon whose mercy they throw themselves.

Or, to pluck from one of the examples I initially listed, let’s examine Leigh Bardugo’s initial Grisha trilogy.

One of its central concerns is the nature of leadership and power. The books are quietly scathing in the negligence of leaders who simply accept their power, and also cautions against power for the sake of power.

In my own books, The Ruthless Land is set in a society where men are utterly subservient to woman to the point that they are forced to veil, whereas in Queendom of the Seven Lakes and King of the Seven Lakes, one of the central conceits is the horror with which the country reacts to the prospect of a man sitting on the throne.

The above settings are oft-used ones, but more commonly with women placed in those positions of subservience. In making the suggestion that such subjugation and prejudice is fundamentally unideal, I found that making such a point in a world of my own devising, rather than having a setting that even vaguely correlated to our own world, was a far softer way to make such a point.

Obviously, at the crux of any book is the desire to tell an engaging and enjoyable story which sweeps the reader along. But I would argue in fact that what engages readers is the questions of human behaviour and experience, which are at their most interesting when they are looking to explore a particular idea, or make a particular comment about issues that in fact pertain to our everyday lives. When those issues are removed from the context of modern society yet remain engaging, it conveys to the reader the importance of these issues, as well as the way through them but crucially—without being a didactic clubbing.

To me, this is one of the most spectacular capabilities of fantasy, a magic within the genre that often goes unappreciated.

What do you think of the fantasy genre? Tell us in the comments below!