Fantasy: George's Take

When I was a junior in high school I wrote my final paper on fantasy. We had been asked to pick a handful of books within a genre and explore the heights and depths that can be reached within it. I had been thinking, "Hey now, fantasy is pretty much perfect for that!" and gathered together the Swords of Truth & Shannara, and called on Belgarath & Polgara to dig into this paper. My teacher was not amused. Fantasy isn't a real literary genre, she scoffed. Say WHAT?! So, I duly ignored her disappointing attitude and did it anyway. Was she happy with me? No, not really. Did I get an A? Yes, yes I did.

Setting aside the fact that there are apparently some individuals in this world who just don't get fantasy, the question is asked again and again just what fantasy is. What does it bring to the table? How does it take the mores and subtle nuances of human nature, culture, and belief and weave them through the loom of its own intrinsic system of devices? Does it really connect with the heart and soul of the human condition? My answer to that last, as you might have guessed, is ABSOLUTELY! George R. R. Martin puts it a little more eloquently, though, and I wanted to share this quote which I ran across this morning. I found it remarkably apt in explaining the genre of books that I love, and so delightfully simple...

“The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real ... for a moment at least ... that long magic moment before we wake.

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?

We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to middle Earth.” 

(Quote Source: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&q=The+Last+Summer&commit=Search)

I adore A Song of Ice & Fire, and I'm fully supportive of authors taking their time to produce their books in order to make sure what they deliver to their fans is as accurate, delightful & perfect as possible. Do I wish The Winds of Winter would be released tomorrow? With all my heart! But he is welcome to take his time to make it as wonderful as the rest of the series. In all good fun, though, here's the joke at George's expense which has become a fan classic: