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In Other Worlds: SF and the Human Imagination

Margaret Atwood: Does she or doesn't she write science fiction?

In Other Worlds: SF and the Human Imagination By Margaret Atwood Doubleday 255 pp.

For an Arthur C. Clarke award-winner (in fact, the very first Arthur C. Clarke award winner), Margaret Atwood has always been leery of the science-fiction label.

Five-time Hugo winner, six-time Nebula winner, and all-around living legend Ursula K. Le Guin called Atwood out on her reluctance in 2009 in her Guardian review of 鈥淭he Year of the Flood,鈥 the third of what Atwood prefers to be called her 鈥渟peculative fiction鈥 novels. 鈥淭o my mind, 鈥楾he Handmaid鈥檚 Tale,鈥 鈥極ryx and Crake鈥 and now 鈥楾he Year of the Flood鈥 all exemplify one of the things science fiction does, which is to extrapolate imaginatively from current trends and events to a near-future that鈥檚 half prediction, half satire,鈥 Le Guin wrote. 鈥淏ut Margaret Atwood doesn鈥檛 want any of her books to be called science fiction. In her recent, brilliant essay collection, 鈥楳oving Targets,鈥 she says that everything that happens in her novels is possible and may even have already happened, so they can鈥檛 be science fiction.... She doesn鈥檛 want the literary bigots to shove her into the literary ghetto.鈥

The Booker Prize winner is hardly the first writer not to want to be crammed headfirst into a too-small box. 鈥淚 have been a soreheaded occupant of a file drawer labeled 鈥榮cience fiction鈥 ... and I would like out, particularly since so many serious critics regularly mistake the drawer for a urinal,鈥 Kurt Vonnegut wrote in 鈥淲ampeters, Foma & Granfalloons.鈥 If Bram Stoker were alive, he would likely protest that 鈥淒racula鈥 shouldn鈥檛 be shelved in the horror section, and Jane Austen would no doubt be adamant that 鈥淧ride & Prejudice鈥 was a social satire, not a romance.

Still, Le Guin has a point: If it looks like a futuristic waterfowl, and it quacks like a futuristic waterfowl, does it matter whether it arrived as part of an alien invasion or as a result of genetic mutation?

In her new book of essays, In Other Worlds, Atwood answers Le Guin, to whom the book is dedicated. 鈥淭he motive imputed to me is not in fact my actual motive for requesting separate names.... What I mean by 鈥榮cience fiction鈥 is those books that descend from H.G. Wells鈥檚 鈥楾he War of the Worlds,鈥 which treats of an invasion by tentacled, blood-sucking Martians shot to Earth in metal canisters 鈥 things that could not possibly happen 鈥 whereas, for me, 鈥榮peculative fiction鈥 means plots that descend from Jules Verne鈥檚 books about submarines and balloon travel and such 鈥 things that really could happen but just hadn鈥檛 completely happened when the authors wrote the books.鈥 (Fair enough, but I鈥檝e heard them both Wells and Verne described as the 鈥渇ather of science fiction.鈥)

While she may not think she writes it, Atwood certainly has read a fair bit of and thought deeply about science fiction, and she shares generously with her readers in 鈥淚n Other Worlds,鈥 starting with the flying rabbits she wrote about as a child. (The be-caped bunnies and other illustrations by Atwood are featured on the whimsical end-papers.)

鈥淚n Other Worlds鈥 is divided into sections: The first part covers three of Atwood鈥檚 never-before-published lectures, covering the ground from superheroes to science fiction as the modern refuge of religious writing 鈥 鈥淚鈥檓 far from the first commentator to note that science fiction is where theologically linked phenomena and reasonable facsimiles of them went after 鈥楶aradise Lost鈥 " 鈥 to utopias and dystopias. That last, 鈥淒ire Cartographies,鈥 is the most interesting, covering her abandoned thesis and the genesis of 鈥淭he Handmaid鈥檚 Tale.鈥 鈥淢y rules for 鈥楾he Handmaid鈥檚 Tale鈥 were simple: I would not put into this book anything that humankind had not already done, somewhere, sometime, or for which it did not already have the tools.鈥

In the second section, Atwood reviews works such as H. Rider Haggard鈥檚 鈥淪he鈥 (origin of the original 鈥淪he-who-must-be-obeyed鈥), Aldous Huxley鈥檚 鈥淏rave New World,鈥 George Orwell鈥檚 鈥淎nimal Farm鈥 and 鈥1984,鈥 Le Guin鈥檚 鈥淭he Birthday of the World, and Kazuo Ishiguro鈥檚 鈥淣ever Let Me Go.鈥 Atwood is particularly good on Huxley and Orwell. 鈥淭he twentieth century could be seen as a race between two versions of man-made Hell 鈥 the jackbooted state totalitarianism of Orwell鈥檚 鈥1984鈥 and the hedonistic ersatz paradise of 鈥楤rave New World....鈥 鈥 Especially enjoyable is her discussion of the mad scientists in the third section of Jonathan Swift鈥檚 鈥淕ulliver鈥檚 Travels.鈥 And I wish the scientists who recently decided to recreate the Black Plague to see just what made it so deadly had read her review of Bill McKibben鈥檚 nonfiction work, 鈥淓nough.鈥

Finally, Atwood includes four already published short stories, covering such concerns as cryogenics and why it will never, ever work, to alien invasions, winding up with an excerpt from my favorite of her novels, 鈥淭he Blind Assassin.鈥

One quibble: Could Atwood鈥檚 editors not have helped her out with a few errors, such as 鈥淎ttack of the 60 Foot Woman,鈥 which I鈥檓 guessing was a typo, and the fact that Wonder Woman鈥檚 invisible flying vehicle was a plane (later a jet, later discarded when she got the power of flight, later 鈥 who knows? I lost track after she finally got some pants), not a 鈥渉elicopter?鈥

Any review that leads to memories of flying rabbits has performed a service to humanity in my book, and I just have one question for Le Guin: Could you please retroactively review 鈥淭he Blind Assassin?鈥 (It has the lizard men of Xenor and everything!) I鈥檇 really love to read more on that book.

Yvonne Zipp regularly reviews fiction for the Monitor.

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