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Laurie Penny: John Gray's “all-new” science fiction reading list

John Gray’s article names not a single woman writer, nor any writer of colour.

Science fiction is pertinent, and it is political. John Gray's essay "War of the words", published by the New Statesman this week, is a magnificent and lyrical attempt to rehabilitate science and speculative fiction within the western canon.

It is gratifying that Gray has finally noticed what decades' worth of critics, authors and judges have failed to recognise: that science and speculative fiction is a vibrant and important school of writing whose observations on politics and the human condition "enable us to see more clearly the elusive actualities". This particularly the case in Britain, which has long produced the best science fiction in the world, all of which has been roundly snubbed by the bourgeois literary establishment.

Gray misses the mark, however, in assuming that western culture's loss of humanist principles means that science fiction is "no longer a viable form". On the contrary -- contemporary science fiction boasts exciting novelists like Ken MacLeod, Gwyneth Jones, Geoff Ryman, Cathrynne M Valente, China Miéville and Charles Stross, whose works cluster at the cutting edge of modernity. It is, perhaps, a certain poverty in Gray's own humanism that restricts his reading of science and speculative fiction to such a narrow field of writers.

Reading Gray's essay put me in mind of studying English at university, where learned tutors would open our minds to dazzling new strata of language and ideas before presenting us with a reading list entirely composed of books by dead white males from the early 20th century.

Gray comments that Miéville's astonishing The City and The City makes readers "realise how much of human life -- your own and that of others -- passes by unseen". Unfortunately, what "passes by unseen" in Gray's attempt to reappropriate science fiction to the mainstream is approximately a century's worth of important speculative writing by women and people of colour.

Gray's article lists not a single woman writer, nor any writer of colour -- nor, indeed, any living writers from the 21st-century save Miéville. It is particularly startling that, in his digest of 20th-century dystopian fiction, he neglects to mention Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale, an near-future novel set in a brutal patriarchal theocracy, alongside Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four and Huxley's Brave New World.

"I am really tired of hearing men discuss the field as if there are no women writers," says Farah Mendlesohn, editor of The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction. "There is not a single decade of science fiction in the 20th century in which there were no women authors. What about Katherine Burdekin's anti-fascist dystopia, Suzy McKee Charnas's challenges to the patriarchy, or Joanna Russ's fierce critiques of liberal politics?"

Women's liberation has always been, in Gray's words, an "impulse of world transformation". Imagining alternative futures in order to create a potentiality of action has been particularly important for women writers and writers of colour seeking to articulate social oppression. Miéville, whose work Gray extensively and deservedly celebrates, said last week that "speculative fiction is about radical moments of estrangement, and about exploring potentiality. It's not surprising that speculative fiction written by people at the sharp end of modernity, whether that's women or people of colour, will reflect especially powerfully on patterns of privilege."

Like radical politics, science fiction seeks to disturb -- and what could be more disturbing than a vision of a world where gender and sexuality are differently constructed? Even the most populist science fiction engages playfully with gender: consider Russell T Davies's relaunch of Doctor Who in 2005 which, along with scary monsters, intergalactic battles and epic quantities of BBC slime, posited the notion that, in the future, being gay or bisexual might not be any sort of social impediment.

At its most powerful, science and speculative fiction seeks to delocalise and make strange the structures of everyday existence. In so doing, it can't help but replicate the strategies of radical politics and identity politics. Gray's assessment of the importance of science fiction is welcome, but his attempt to reconcile the genre with a certain form of redactive literary liberalism was always destined to fall short.

Like feminism, there is something inherently weird about science fiction -- and, whether we like it or not, it cannot be rehabilitated.

Writing Women's Worlds: a reading list by Farah Mendlesohn and China Miéville

  • Margaret Atwood -- The Handmaid's Tale (the classic feminist dystopia, exploring women's lives under totalitarian theocracy. Winner of the first Arthur C Clarke award)
  • Kirsten Bakis -- Lives of the Monster Dogs (a sequel to The Island of Dr Moreau, winner of the Orange Prize)
  • Katherine Burdekin (as Murray Constantine) -- Swastika Night, 1937 (a dystopian vision of Europe under the Third Reich, written before the outbreak of WWII)
  • Octavia E Butler -- Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy)
  • Suzy McKee Charnas -- Walk to the End of the World
  • Nalo Hopkinson -- Brown Girl in the Ring
  • Gwyneth Jones -- Bold As Love
  • Ursula Le Guin -- The Disposessed and Left Hand of Darkness (the authors couldn't bring themselves to choose just one Le Guin)
  • Judith Merril (as editor) -- England Swings SF, 1968
  • Tricia O'Sullivan -- Maul
  • Joanna Russ -- The Female Man and How to Suppress Women's Writing
  • Alice Sheldon (as James Tiptree Jr) -- Her Smoke Rose Up Forever

 

Laurie Penny is a contributing editor to the New Statesman. She is the author of five books, most recently Unspeakable Things.

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Out with the old: how new species are evolving faster than ever

A future geologist will look back to the present day as a time of diversification, as well as extinction.

Human population growth, increased consumption, hunting, habitat destruction, pollution, invasive species and now climate change are turning the biological world on its head. The consequence is that species are becoming extinct, perhaps faster than at any time since the dinosaurs died out 66 million years ago. This is an inconvenient truth.

But there are also convenient truths. Britain has gained about 2,000 new species over the past two millennia, because our predecessors converted forests into managed woodlands, orchards, meadows, wheat fields, roadsides, hedgerows, ponds and ditches, as well as gardens and urban sprawl, each providing new opportunities.

Then we started to transport species deliberately. We have the Romans to thank for brown hares and the Normans for rabbits. In the 20th century, ring-necked parakeets escaped from captivity and now adorn London’s parks and gardens.

Climate warming is bringing yet more new species to our shores, including little egrets and tree bumblebees, both of which have colonised Britain in recent years and then spread so far north that I can see them at home in Yorkshire. Convenient truth No 1 is that more species have arrived than have died out: most American states, most islands in the Pacific and most countries in Europe, including Britain, support more species today than they did centuries ago.

Evolution has also gone into overdrive. Just as some species are thriving on a human-dominated planet, the same is true of genes. Some genes are surviving better than others. Brown argus butterflies in my meadow have evolved a change in diet (their caterpillars now eat dove’s-foot cranesbill plants, which are common in human-disturbed landscapes), enabling them to take advantage of a warming climate and spread northwards.

Evolution is a second convenient truth. Many species are surviving better than we might have expected because they are becoming adapted to the human-altered world – although this is not such good news when diseases evolve immunity to medicines or crop pests become resistant to insecticides.

A third convenient truth is that new species are coming into existence. The hybrid Italian sparrow was born one spring day when a male Spanish sparrow (the “original” Mediterranean species) hitched up with a female house sparrow (which had spread from Asia into newly created farmland). The descendants of this happy union live on, purloining dropped grains and scraps from the farms and towns of the Italian peninsula. Some of those grains are wheat, which is also a hybrid species that originated as crosses between wild grasses in the Middle East.

This is not the only process by which new species are arising. On a much longer time scale, all of the species that we have released on thousands of islands across the world’s oceans and transported to new continents will start to become more distinct in their new homes, eventually separating into entirely new creatures. The current rate at which new species are forming may well be the highest ever. A future geologist will look back to the present day as a time of great diversification on Earth, as well as a time of extinction.

The processes of ecological and evolutionary change that brought all of Earth’s existing biological diversity into being – including ourselves – is continuing to generate new diversity in today’s human-altered world. Unless we sterilise our planet in some unimagined way, this will continue. In my book Inheritors of the Earth, I criss-cross the world to survey the growth in biological diversity (as well as to chart some of the losses) that has taken place in the human epoch and argue that this growth fundamentally alters our relationship with nature.

We need to walk a tightrope between saving “old nature” (some of which might be useful) and facilitating what will enable the biological world to adjust to its changed state. Humans are integral to Earth’s “new nature”, and we should not presume that the old was better than the new.

“Inheritors of the Earth: How Nature Is Thriving in an Age of Extinction” by Chris D Thomas is published by Allen Lane

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder