On changing tastes and re-reading

Earlier in the week I mentioned my admiration for the novels of Howard Spring, an enthusiasm shared by fellow Macmillan New Writer Frances Garrood. I wondered whether I would still enjoy his novels as much today, not having read them for 15 or 20 years. Frances mused:

Years ago, I read the whole of The Forsyte Saga, and couldn't put it down. I thought it was the best thing I'd ever read. Recently, I tried it again, and couldn't get through two chapters. It happens with old films, too. Does this mean that we have changed, or that the book/film isn't really as good as we first thought it was?

I'm sure we've all had similar experiences. We grow as readers, which means our tastes change; but also our critical faculties develop. Returning to an old favourite, then, is risky. I am not the same person who discovered The Lord of the Rings nearly 30 years ago, and that's reflected in my response to the book now--a rather less adulatory one.

The experience of reading a book is the filtering of a fixed quantity (the text) and our own emotional engagement with that text, which is variable. The Catcher in the Rye will act differently on a 15-year old reader to a 45-year old. If there is such a thing as intrinsic literary value (and we won't even attempt to debate that here...), that value won't change What has changed, then, is our own emotional or critical response.

As a youth, I read a formidable quantity of science-fiction and, simply through the law of averages, some of this was very bad and some was very good. In the intervening years I've re-read some of both: Jack Vance, of course, remains my touchstone of literary excellence, while E.E. "Doc" Smith is revealed as tosh, however amiable and energetic it may be. In this case, clearly, my critical powers have developed beyond those of my 12-year old self (it would be somewhat alarming if the converse were true).

The Lord of the Rings is a more complex case. For at least ten years this was my favourite book; coming to it again five or so years ago, it was a struggle to finish. I don't think The Lord of the Rings is a bad book; what's changed here is my literary taste. I can admire Tolkien while at the same time wanting to see the lightness of touch I find in Vance; and also I now view it through the deconstructive lens of revisionist fantastists like GRR Martin and Joe Abercrombie.

This latter point is significant too. Part of the reason our tastes change is that other writers are reinventing their genres, in a way that will sometimes date earlier work. While there could be no Abercrombie without Tolkien, the way we read Tolkien today owes something as well to Abercrombie. By a curious trick of perception, chronology becomes a two-way street.

By a circuitous route this brings us back to Howard Spring and AS Byatt. Half a century separates These Lovers Fled Away from The Children's Book, but thematically and structurally they are remarkably similar. If I now read These Lovers Fled Away, it's with the experience, the extra filter, of The Children's Book. That has the potential to reinterpret the first book, to redefine my experience. That, for me, is why we should be wary of re-reading old favourites.

The Essential Fantasy List

As requested by David Isaak, the fantasy books you must read. Don't worry if you haven't read them all--neither have I! And in some cases I've not been able to finish them; but I don't need to eat my vegetables to tell you to eat yours...

The First Law trilogy, Joe Abercrombie
Abercrombie is the LC Tyler of fantasy fiction (with added gore). In the First Law series he takes the tropes of Tolkienesque fantasy and turns them around to produce a cycle of wit, drama and a grimly appropriate conclusion. Add in his deft control of voice and point of view, and you have probably the best writer working in the field today. At once affectionate towards and utterly deconstructive of the history of the genre.

Inversions, Iain M. Banks
Technically science-fiction, one of the things that appeals about Banks is the way that he manages to blur the lines between "sf" and "f". This novel influenced me hugely; with his trademark mixture of sassiness, wit and liberal outlook, Banks is a major figure in the field.

The Worm Ouroboros, E.R. Eddison
OK, so I never managed to get past about page 30 of this, but don't let that stop you trying. Alongside Lord Dunsany--another I struggle to finish--he illustrates that fantasy existed before Tolkien.

Swordspoint, Ellen Kushner
Less than 30 years old, Swordspoint is already almost forgotten. Such is often the fate of excellence. This is fantasy for grown-ups; no pyrotechnics, no flash worldbuilding, no magic, no elves or dwarves. Swordspoint is just a human story with quiet intrigues and plenty of swordfights. It's influenced me more than I realised, which probably doesn't say much for my commercial prospects.

The Earthsea cycle, Ursula K. LeGuin
LeGuin is sometimes a little "in your face" for my tastes, her politics often undigested in her fiction. But I can forgive her most things for Earthsea, perhaps the best of the "boy wizard grows up" genre. There's never been a better evocation of the cost of magical powers.

A Game of Thrones, George R.R. Martin
This is the novel that rescued epic fantasy from the cosy cliches of Tolkien-lite. Subsequent volumes have never matched the shock value of the gritty, bloody opener. His readiness to kill off viewpoint characters still astounds today. Martin launched fantasy noir with this one book.

Fevre Dream, George R.R. Martin
Long before the current vogue for vampires, Martin's tale of the undead in the 19th century Deep South showcased his ability to revitalise tired genre tropes. Altogether less epic in scope than his latest work, Fevre Dream nonetheless repays close attention.

The War Hound and the World's Pain, Michael Moorcock
I find Moorcock's output desperately uneven, but at his best he's hard to match. When I first read this tale of heaven and hell in my late teens, I thought it the most extraordinary book I had ever read, and even a quarter of a century later it remains a powerful presence. If fantasy has a Paradise Lost, this is it.

Gloriana, Michael Moorcock
Considering that I'm no great Moorcock fan, I find myself recommending him again. One of the most delicious historical fantasies, Gloriana shows us a sorcerous John Dee at large in an Elizabethan court unlike any representation of it you've ever seen. Strange but glorious.

The Anubis Gates, Tim Powers
Another historical fantasy, Powers' romp through Egyptian mythology, werewolves, time-travel and the Romantic poets defies ready description. You really have to read it to understand, but that's no hardship.

The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien
The novel that launched modern commercial fantasy. Tolkien is often criticised for not doing things he never set out to do in the first place, but this book is so influential that even if it were crap (it isn't), it would demand to be read. Tolkien is often unfairly maligned for the feeble imitators he has spawned--as if that's his fault.

The Lyonesse trilogy, Jack Vance
Vance's attempt to write a Big Commercial Fantasy succeeded on every level except the commercial one. It's been relegated to the role of neglected classic rather than the household name it should be. Vance answers all the lazy criticisms that he can't plot and that his series run out of energy as they unfold. The best of the best, but because so much of the charm lies in the voice, very difficult to imitate.

The Dying Earth cycle, Jack Vance
Written over 35 years, these four books are only loosely connected. The Dying Earth itself, while not sui generis (it owes a lot to Clark Ashton Smith) deserves better than to be remembered for its influence on Dungeons and Dragons; the two Cugel books are masterpieces of black comedic picaresque, and Rhialto the Marvelous is what fantasy would be like if P.G. Wodehouse had joined the field. Vance misses the mark with many readers but if you've not tried him you owe it to yourself to test him out

The Book of the New Sun tetralogy, Gene Wolfe
I have to be honest and say that I find Wolfe an easier writer to admire than enjoy. No-one does unreliable narrator games better, and if he wrote outside the genre he'd be much better known and respected. His work is has too many intellectual puzzles and not enough emotional engagement for my taste (but then I never got on with James Joyce either), but he's a major figure in the field.

The Chronicles of Amber, Roger Zelazny
This ten-volume cycle steadily wanes in interest, but the first few are gold dust. Stylistically innovative, this saga of family feuding, magical powers and parallel universes always reads to me like the ultimate 60s acid trip.

Bite-Sized Reviews

I've got through a decent crop of books over the past week, so before the moment passes here are my thoughts on them.

First up was Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns. Hosseini is an accomplished story-teller. More than one reviewer makes the comparison with Dickens, and the similarity is evident in the bold strokes with which the characters drawn and the high degree of social engagement. It's a good read, but the characterisation feels perfunctory at times. It's not as well-structured or engaging as The Kite-Runner but the quality of the prose, the sense of place and the narrative drive make it a recommended read.

Even better was Kate Summerscale's The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, a true-life account of a hideous crime from the nineteenth century. Summerscale is excellent at drawing out the social context of the case, its impact on the "sensation" fiction of writers like Wilkie Collins and Mary Elizabeth Braddon, and the way in which the class distinctions of the time prevented the crime's early resolution. It's likely to appeal to anyone with an interest in the nineteenth century, crime or indeed crime fiction.

Next I've picked up Ken Follett's World Without End. At over 1,200 pages (I'm on about page 60), "novel without end" might be more appropriate. Follett engages and infuriates in equal measure. He's a contemporary thriller-writer turned historical novelist, and while his enthusiasm for the Middle Ages and the extensiveness of his research shine through, I'm not sure the move is wholly successful. His control of plotting and pacing, as demonstrated in the earlier volume Pillars of the Earth, is exemplary, but his grinding infodumps lack finesse and the dialogue can grate. If you like stories set in this period there are better ones out there.

Finally, there's Joe Abercrombie's Best Served Cold. Abercrombie is in many ways a writer after my own heart, whose fantasy is clearly rooted in a wide reading of history. I've posted a much fuller review over at Science Fiction and Fantasy Enthusiasts: suffice it to say here that this is a book lovers of fantasy should read.

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I can't end without noting that Alastair Reynolds, a fine science-fiction writer, has signed "£1m book deal" with Gollancz. The deal is for 10 books, and the amounts quoted in the press are invariably exaggerated, so this is hardly money for old rope; and it will be a long time before he sees all the money--if ever. I haven't read a lot of Reynolds' work, but I've enjoyed what I have read. Century Rain is a clever engaging futuristic noir novel, while "A Spy in Europa" is a highly accomplished short story.

It's good to see a major imprint investing in a science-fiction writer in this way. I hope the deal works out for everyone.

Firing on Some Cylinders

::Acquired Taste is back after a week in New York. I'm still groggy with jetlag (I don't deal well with anything which mucks up my sleeping patterns) but I'm here just in time for the paperback launch of The Dog of the North, which is released on Friday. My author copies have arrived and they look marvellous: so good, in fact, that you'll want to buy another copy even if you already have the hardback. Even if you hated it... The future of The Last Free City may well hinge on The Dog of the North's sales performance, so let's all buy a couple of dozen copies.

In general I'm not a city person. The only two cities I actively enjoy spending time in are Paris and New York: if Betjamen's friendly bombs are to fall on Slough, they might as well go the extra few miles and take out London while they're at it. My week in New York was hugely enjoyable, if tiring, and two of my experiences were so stimulating that they'll rate their own blog entries once my brain has returned to what passes for normal functioning.

In my absence, a tremendous new blog in the speculative fiction world has launched: SFFE, or Science Fiction and Fantasy Ethics. In genre which suffers more than its fair share of negative criticism--internally as well as externally--SFFE is set up explicitly to celebrate the positive side of science fiction and fantasy. A lot of top authors in the field have signed up to the manifesto--and yours truly--so why not check it out. There's already some great content over there.

Talking of great content, I've ordered today Joe Abercrombie's latest, Best Served Cold. Abercrombie is one of the best writers working in fantasy today so I'm looking forward to this one immensely.