It’s not like we voted or anything, but at close of the monthly book club meeting I attend it was apparent that the literature known as science fiction or Sci-Fi should now be called “speculative fiction.” This is akin to learning that the 110-story Sears Tower, from its opening in 1973, would, after losing its naming rights in 2009, become part of the Willis Group.
The Willis Tower is called that by tourists. Chicagoans know that Sears Tower is the rightful name for all eternity.
This effort at accepting change compounds in difficulty as we age. While many things might need changing, muddying the waters of literature with New-Age titles seems both complicated and unnecessary. It’s also downright irritating.
While there might be some stigma associated with Sci-Fi, the acceptance of speculative fiction as a stand-alone genre displays a willingness not to rid whatever it is that’s stigmatic but to create an umbrella genre that covers a slew of subgenres. Guess what? Sci-Fi tops the list of the new subgenres.
Here’s a cut-and-paste steal from Wikipedia that clarifies the new name game:
Speculative fiction encompasses all the subgenres that depart from realism, or strictly imitating everyday reality, instead presenting fantastical, supernatural, futuristic, or other imaginative realms. This catch-all genre includes, but is not limited to, science fiction, fantasy, horror, slipstream, magical realism, superhero fiction, alternate history, utopia and dystopia, fairy tales, steampunk, cyberpunk, weird fiction, and some apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic fiction.
During my days of studying literature, we didn’t have so many choices of category.
We had non-fiction (history), fiction, science fiction, biography and memoir, crime (detective), and poetry. We also had comic books, which have now morphed into “graphic novels.”
Life just gets harder.
I don’t know if I want to go to the trouble to learn about “slipstream.” I think that “alternate history” was created by Kelly Ann Conway, one of Trump’s many advisors whose advice he ignored. (Actually, her phrase was “alternative facts.” Frankly, I don’t see much of a difference.) I have a hunch that I’m too old to read books that might be labeled steampunk or cyberpunk (my punk years were too long ago).
I’m guessing that “superhero fiction” is best exhibited in the aforementioned comic books, which I read until that transitional age when I discovered MAD magazine. (At least he’s reading, my father would tell Mom.)
But I digress.
I have, however unwittingly, read quite a bit of “weird fiction,” not knowing that wackiness, synonymous with weird, qualifies as a subgenre.
Cloud Cuckoo Land, a novel by the Pulitzer Prize-winning Anthony Doerr, might qualify for that last subgenre. A book my book club read for discussion, it is 600 pages whose settings come from modern-day Idaho, fifteenth century Constantinople and an interstellar ship many years from now. The cast of characters flit about like flies on a griddle as they plumb the depths of ancient philosophy and futuristic imagery.
It never occurred to me to join a book club. I also was never asked to join one. My mother belonged to one in which the ladies read romance novels, ate crust-less cucumber sandwiches, and drank copious amounts of chardonnay. Most of them smoked Benson & Hedges cigarettes and complained wildly about their spouses. This I learned from eavesdropping.
The book club I belong to was started by my “cousin” John Interlandi. Our fathers were best friends and John, a semi-retired physician, and I have known each other since infancy. He lives in Nashville, as do most of the other members (although I’m not sure). I joined two-and-a-half years ago, at the height of the pandemic. Our meetings are accomplished by Zoom.
I’m not sure what the other fellows do, but some look like they’re retired. One, I believe, is a molecular biologist who traded in a microscope for a psychologist’s couch. Another is a non-practicing lawyer who provides tech support to a private academy. Each is slightly foul-mouthed. None are Trumpers.
I like them all.
I tried to attend the February meeting in Nashville. I got as far as Seattle when I learned that two inches of snow in Tennessee is enough to bring life to a standstill. Apparently, there are no snowplows or shovels in Opryland and my flight was cancelled. I had a delightful dinner with my son and flew back to Montana the next afternoon. I tried to forget about how costly a trip to essentially nowhere was.
Most of the guys in the club seem to be Sci-Fi aficionados. I’m not. Although a believer, I have little aptitude or interest in most things scientific, so I don’t know what parts that I’m reading are real or fake. It’s unsettling. Truth disguised as fiction—without the methodology of in-lab discovery—is more up my alley.
But I accept the challenge, hoping that someday, something might click and the three Sci-Fi novels I read before my first year in college will suddenly make perfect sense. I’m not holding my breath.
Outside of the Sci-Fi subgenre, we’ve read some great stuff. Trevor Noah’s Born a Crime was delightful, as well as it was informative about South African apartheid. A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles was one of the best novels the group has tackled. And Walter Isaacson’s The Code Breaker, a biography of Jennifer Doudna, was a page-turning exploration of gene editing.
If you love to read and like to explore a wide range of writing, I suggest you either join or start a book club. The challenges are great, the rewards even greater.
And, while not preferred, chardonnay is perfectly acceptable.
Photo composition by Courtney A. Liska
Beef Goulash
Passover begins tomorrow night at sundown. It’s a joyous holiday commemorating the exodus of enslaved Jews from Egypt. It is a celebration of freedom, renewal and the resilience of the Jewish people. Chag Pesach sameach (Happy Passover).
2 tsp. unsalted butter
2 medium onions, peeled and thinly sliced
2 Tbs. sweet Hungarian paprika
1 tsp. caraway seeds
1-1/2 pounds beef stewing meat, trimmed and cut into 1-inch cubes
¼ cup all-purpose flour
2 cups beef broth
1 Tbs. fresh lemon juice
2 tsp. salt, plus more to taste
¼ tsp. freshly ground pepper
Melt the butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add the onions and cook, stirring frequently, until wilted, about 10 minutes. Stir in the paprika and caraway seeds and cook 1 minute more. In a bowl, toss the beef with the flour to coat well. Add the beef to the onion mixture. Cook, stirring, for 2 minutes.
Add 1/2 cup of the broth, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pot. Gradually stir in the remaining broth. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a slow simmer. Cover and cook until the beef is tender, about 1-1/2 hours. Stir in the lemon juice, salt, and pepper to taste.
Serve over wide egg noodles.