[Do you have an idea for a future Mind Meld? Let us know! This week's Mind Meld question was suggested by Adam Callaway.]

Last week we queried our panelists about the next big trend in SF/F. This week is the opposite side of that coin. We asked:

Q: What are some of the SF/F tropes that need to be retired?
Nick Mamatas
Nick Mamatas is the author of over sixty short stories and three novels, including the forthcoming Sensation from PM Press. With Ellen Datlow he co-edited Haunted Legends, an anthology of regional ghost stories and local legends from around the world. His work has been thrice nominated for the Bram Stoker award, and also for the International Horror Guild award and Germany’s Kurd Lasswitz Prize. As co-editor of Clarkesworld magazine, Nick has also been nominated for the Hugo and World Fantasy awards. He is currently at work on adapting his novel Under My Roof for the screen, and edits Haikasoru, an imprint of Japanese science fiction and fantasy in translation..

Christ, which tropes don’t need to be retired. But that’s what genre is, isn’t it? The promise of a very similar experience to one you’ve already had and enjoyed. Sure, my elves are different, but then again, you ain’t reading about my elves for their differences, are you? I suppose I should throw in one of those disclaimers about how anything can be done well and that tropes that have devolved into cliches can be rehabilitated by an author of sufficient skill, but I’m sure that other flapgums you have in this mind meld will have covered that already. In the end, what most people do is just pile on more tropes rather than reinvigorate those they’re working with. I remember one time looking at the back of a paperback in the grocery store and coming across the tale of a woman who was “half-vampire, half-Valkyrie.” And I thought to myself, Wait, that doesn’t make any sense. And then I thought to myself, Wait, when did half-vampire alone start making any sense to me. Then I thought, I’ve wasted my life. So, how about…

  • Military SF that’s just extant military history in disguise
  • Airships
  • Zombies (but my zombie book is different)
  • Vampires, and not just the glittery kind–all must be damned!
  • The kick-ass lady with the vampire boyfriend and the werewolf boyfriend
  • Bookish little twats whisked away to some magical world where nobody knows what a nerd they are
  • Tentacles
  • Help, Muslims are havin’ BABIES!
  • Aliens that are just like Japanese people…well, not like any Japanese people I’ve ever met, but like the Japanese people of bad books from a previous generation
  • Secret law enforcement groups that police the supernatural
  • A spaceship or a colony on another planet where someone goes crazy and ruins it for everybody
  • The Corporation as all-around antagonist or, for that matter, protagonist

Paul Raven
Paul Raven – Freelance writer, sf literature and music reviewer, social media consultant; Editor-in-Chief and Publisher of Futurismic – near-future science fiction webzine; Editor-in-Chief and Publisher of The Dreaded Press – rock music reviews webzine; Publicist and PR officer for PS Publishing – the UK’s foremost boutique genre publisher

OK, first one’s easy: the undead and lycanthropes (the latter to include all similar folkloric shapeshifters). I mean, come on – am I the only person who’s tired of this stuff? Is it really only me?

Now, let me be clear: I’m not saying that there aren’t people writing good fiction – even excellent fiction – about zombies and what have you. I’m not saying there’s anything inherently bad about them as tropes (though I think even the hardiest necrofan would be hard pressed to say there’s not some terrible cliché-ridden tosh on the shelves, and that the Undead Austen mash-ups – as “you’ll never guess what someone went and did!” linkbait-cute as the idea may be – are really a bit desperate and Janey-come-lately). I’m just saying it’s too much. You know that horrified feeling of being hemmed in on all sides by an amorphous mass of dull-voiced putrescence that we’re supposed to feel in sympathy with the heroes at the end of a zombie movie? That’s exactly how I feel about books about zombies. Only I don’t have a shotgun handy, nor a pulp movie character trait that’s of any use in this particular situation … though I have all too many useless ones, I fear. Cigarette, anyone?

And if you need me to tell you why vampires have jumped so far over the shark they’d need a satellite imaging system to spot it again… well, actually, I’d like your advice on successfully avoiding popular media of all types. UR TINFOIL HATZ: SHOW ME DEM.

(Digression: it’s interesting to consider the root causes of the incredible tenacity of the undead as tropes, though. Despite loads of Googling that has heretofore failed to locate it, I’m sure I vaguely remember reading a critique that suggested the subtext of zombies in pop culture taps into our subliminal fear of a greying population demographic declining into senility, and that vampires tap into the even scarier notion of smart and inexplicably unwithered old people (paging Ray Kurzweil!) scheming and predating upon us, draining the blood economy that the young are working desperately to shore up. A deeply cynical reading, sure (nor one I’m certain I agree with), but a very timely one. Elsewhere, Futurismic columnist Jonathan McCalmont has suggested the undead represent a fear of transhumanism… which is more up my street, but still pretty unlikely, IMHO.)

Second verse, same as the first: let’s give Lovecraft a rest, shall we? Yup, hugely influential, a keystone of speculative literature, recent anniversary, blah blah, yadda yadda, I know. But if you’ve ever seen what strip-mining does to a neighbourhood, you’ll maybe consider letting the old bugger’s oeuvre lie fallow for a little while. How’s about it? Let Cthulhu dream a while, give his tentacles a chance to recharge.

Third: steampunk, for no other reason than that it’s rapidly approaching its pop-culture saturation level, and maybe (a vain hope, no doubt) if we screwed in the governor for a little bit, we might be able to avoid the inevitable end-point of cheaply rented off-the-peg “sexy steampunk” outfits turning up at the New Year’s fancy-dress office party. Chin-stroking “subculture” reports in respectable dead-tree broadsheets should be warning enough, but when dildo manufacturers are boarding the bandwagon, it’s definitely time to hop off and find a new bar to drink in. Still not convinced? Three words for you: Steampunk Sarah Palin.

And fourth, I’m going to take a pop at one that’s actually a big favourite of mine (no partisanship here, no-siree): the Simulation Argument. The Simulation Argument is to early 21st Century science fiction as the Multiple Universe Hypothesis was to late 20th Century sf: instead of postulating that the world in the narrative frame is one that has followed one or more different branchings on the infinite temporal tree to the one in which the reader is sat, the writer postulates that the world is in fact a simulation running within the “real” universe… or possibly a simulation running within a simulation, but it’s the same thing, essentially, how ever far down the turtles actually end up going. It’s a great story tool for science fiction, and has been used to great effect in recent years by some of my favourite writers (MacLeod. McDonald, Stross, Roberts and more). Trouble is, there’s only so many ways it can be used, and I suspect we may be running out of good ones… well, in this universe at least. And I worry that maybe it’s a handy way of turning away from the problems in the real reality; I’m something of a fellow traveller of Mundane SF and Jetse de Vries’ optimism manifesto, I suppose, and some days it just feels like we’ll take any narrative route out of a corner, just so long as it means we don’t have to confront the possibility that – after the initial thrill of finding we’re living in a lost Philip K Dick novel that’s been remixed by William Gibson and Rudy Rucker – the real tomorrow beyond the page isn’t going to be a roadside picnic. Reality’s full of good stories, but they’re getting much harder to write.

Lavie Tidhar
Lavie Tidhar is the author of The Bookman (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Bookman-Lavie-Tidhar/dp/0007346581/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1256270056&sr=1-7) and forthcoming sequel Camera Obscura. Other books include linked-story collection HebrewPunk (http://www.amazon.com/HebrewPunk-Lavie-Tidhar/dp/0978867645), novel The Tel Aviv Dossier (http://chizine.com/chizinepub/books/tel-aviv-dossier.php) (with Nir Yaniv), and recent novella Cloud Permutations (http://store.pspublishing.co.uk/acatalog/info_432.html). He also edited The Apex Book of World SF (http://apexdigest.myshopify.com/?m=product_detail&p=86) and runs the World SF News Blog (http://worldsf.wordpress.com).

My first instinct is to shout: None! Every SF trope ever created is a toy and, no matter how old or worn that toy is, you want the option of picking it up again and polishing it and then banging it repeatedly against the frame of the sandbox to see what happens.

Having said that, though… where do I start?

I never really got the whole singularity thing. Does it make sense? To anyone? I mean, really?

And the idea of AI as a human-coded thing. As far as you can say anything about AI, it’s most likely to be evolved rather than programmed. I think we should stop using “artificial intelligence” and use “digital intelligence” instead. Put it another way – a group of humans writing code is going to come up with Windows Vista, not Wintermute! (and we all know how THAT turned out. Can I have two years of my life back, please, Microsoft?)

Also, I wish some hard SF writers would please-dear-God stop writing these incredibly awkward and weird sex scenes! Also, do not use the structure infodump-action-infodump-weird-sex-interrupted by-infodump-action-ending. Unless, you know, you want to win an award or something…

I never really got Lovecraft, either. Would the world be a better place without so many Lovecraft pastiches? Absolutely. Would it lead to world peace? Possibly. Read my lips: NO MORE SHOGGOTHS!

And superheroes? Just Say No.

Jonathan McCalmont
Jonathan McCalmont is a critic whose work has been published at Strange Horizons, The SF Site, The New York Review of Science Fiction, Vector and The Escapist. He maintains a film and literary blog entitled Ruthless Culture and he writes a monthly gaming column at Futurismic entitled Blasphemous Geometries.

There are no tired tropes. There are only lazy readers and lazy writers.

Tropes form the backbone of any genre whether it be science fiction, fantasy, crime, horror, romance, or kosher low-sodium cookery. As fashions change and authors enter and exit the conversation that is a literary genre, some tropes will bloom while others will die back. For example, at the moment steampunk and paranormal romance are in full flower and their tropes are being milked hard by dozens of authors all trying to grab some head-space in crowded market places. What governs this cyclical process of trope death and rebirth is the amount of work authors put into renewing the tropes they inherited from those who came before them.

For example, at the moment, the tropes developed by the likes of Anne Rice, Laurel K. Hamilton and Stephenie Meyer are all quite fresh for a huge number of readers and so the market is filling up with authors producing works of paranormal romance that really do not seem to move the genre on very far. The tropes still speak for themselves. However, as more and more writers pile into the marketplace, those tropes will start to feel slightly shop-worn even for the most devoted fans of the genre. Tropes are like a conceptual commons, they’re a shared resource that all authors can draw upon BUT if people draw too heavily upon these commons without anyone putting anything back into them then the commons cease to be rewarding. This is arguably what happened with the horror genre in the 1980s; the market was saturated by weak unoriginal books that were content to rehash the same old ideas until the market for any kind of horror trope died off. It is only now that the conceptual commons have rested and a new generation of writers have started to tend the conceptual garden that we are starting to see the horror genre as a whole regain its commercial and critical self-respect thanks to authors like Kaaron Warren, John Langan, Sarah Langan, Caitlin R. Kiernan and Joe Hill.

One of the problems with the life-cycle of tropes is that they are dependent not upon the actions of individual authors but upon the amount of energy invested in the commons by the relevant genre’s authors collectively. For example, it would be easy for me to point to the vampire as a trope in need to lying dormant for a while but there are alternate visions of the vampire out there. Visions that could re-energise entire sub-genres if only other authors could be bothered to work on them. Indeed, how interesting would paranormal romance become if instead of flogging Anne Rice’s old ideas to death, authors started to adapt the vision of the vampire laid out by Peter Watts in Blindsight (2006) and the related powerpoint presentation? Suddenly, paranormal romance is no longer about the struggle between the pressures of heteronormativity and the certain knowledge that all men are potential rapists. Now, it’s about the challenges inherent in dating a psychopath or someone with serious mental health issues. Similarly, John Ajvide Lindqvist’s Let The Right One In (2004) beautifully deconstructed the paranormal romance genre by introducing elements of paedophilia and genderqueering into the traditional undead love story making it not only actually quite disturbing but also quite genuinely thought provoking.

There are no tired tropes, only lazy authors who are content to use and re-use other people’s ideas and lazy readers who buy this sort of recycled bilge when it is sprayed at them by publishers.

Annoyed by the number of MilSF stories about futuristic marines shooting at each other? Read Adam Roberts’ brilliant New Model Army (2010) for a glimpse of what future warfare might really be like. In fact, read it purely for the fantastic battle sequences. Fed up of endless tales of the zombie apocalypse? go and watch Robin Compillo’s They Came Back (2004) for a story about how we could easily deal with the appearance of the undead but not with their indifference towards us. Frustrated with stories about the elegantly deranged minds of serial killers and the gristly murders they commit? Seek out Peter Straub’s novella “A Special Place – The Heart of A Dark Matter” (2010) for a demonstration of how mundane and healthy emotions like love and a desire for affection can turn people into monsters just as easily as childhood traumas and eerily religious parents.

Science fiction and fantasy are full of new takes on old ideas, you just need to know where to look in order to find them and if you genuinely think that some ideas are so over-used that they need to be put on the shelf then you are just not looking hard enough for good writing.

Related posts:

  1. MIND MELD: Worldbuilding
  2. MIND MELD: The Future of Written Science Fiction
  3. MIND MELD: Keeping Space Opera Relevant [UPDATED]
  4. MIND MELD: Scientific Accuracy in Stories
  5. MIND MELD: The Forgotten Books of SF/F/H

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