It’s not really a review, but having now read Jenny Rohn’s excellent Experimental Heart, I’ve just blogged about it at the other place.
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Reviewing Dr Rohn
- Date:
- Wednesday, 17 Dec ember 2008 - 10:05 UTC
Last updated: Wednesday, 17 Dec 2008 - 10:05 UTC
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Comments
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You say that you have difficulty with the book because the science is real, not made up, as in science fiction.
But doesn’t that rather destroy your argument that lab lit is a sub-genre of science fiction? Science fiction looks at the human imperative in strange (to us) circumstances: it’s futuristic, or technologically other, or speculative. Lab lit occurs in this, real world, just like crime fiction does. Lab lit is only ‘science fiction’ in so far as there is science in it (and in fact, there doesn’t have to be: a novel set in the lab where the science is not talked about would not be ‘science’ fiction, but it would be lab lit): there is no way lab lit is a sub-genre of science fiction in the way that term is used to classify a genre.
Richard – I’ve had a longish offline discussion with Jenny over this. My revised view is that much of lab lit is a subset of SF, but some (e.g. a pure romance that just happens to be set in a lab) is.
The definition I use of SF is that it’s fiction in which science (including scientific speculation) has an influence on the lives of characters in the book. I don’t believe that science has to be speculative – although in this case I would suspect some of it (PAX for instance) is speculative or just made up.
Of course you can come up with a different definition of SF that excludes Jenny’s book (e.g. “anything written by a science fiction writer” which has been used as a serious definition elsewhere) – but it’s one of those ‘have to agree to disagree’ things.
Sorry, that should have read “but some (e.g. a pure romance that just happens to be set in a lab) isn’t.”
I think I have to agree with BC here. Much of Greg Bear’s work is set in the current time frame and in a lab/high tech industry setting. His work is conventionally labelled SF. A lot of Philip K Dick’s work is in a (wierdly distorted) contemporary (well 1960s) setting.
SF is as hard to define as jazz, and much hot air has been expended on both fronts . I expect lablit will similarly elude agreed definition. A good rule of thumb is how bookstores define it, and I imagine ExHeart would be classed as mainstream.
Science Fiction is, as Henry sez, defined by people who actually read it.
It’s like … oh, I dunno, love. You know what it is when you see it.
So, you’re wrong.
;-)
Speaking of reviews (sorry I’m splashing this everywhere, but I’m excited), we have a very positive review of our manificent NN Christmas poem. See the comments on this blog post
I agree with Henry. As I mentioned to Brian offline, none of the many agents and publishers I dealt with over the past seven or eight years, in Britain or America, thought ExHeart was SF, and besides Brian, not a single reader of the hundreds who helped peruse the various drafts. And pretty much all of the books on the Lab Lit list have been published and marketed as mainstream. If some books in the past have been misclassified in the past as SF, that shouldn’t change what we call books today.
Interestingly, for the section on the List where we include SF books as ‘crossover’ — which I suspect is grossly underrepresentive, so nominees always welcome! — all of the people who nominated these prefaced their emails sheepishly with, “I know this is SF, but…” So there does indeed seems to be a difference between the two groups, no matter how indefinable. And this must be a difference that people like Brian just can’t sense. I think it’s fascinating, personally.
I know you are an SF fan, Jenny, but what I sense is still an attempt to move away from the stigma that used to be attached to science fiction as ‘real’ literature – so, bizarrely, for instance, literati used to claim that, say 1984 or Brave New World aren’t SF, because they are proper literature.
The strangest one I’ve seen is Farenheit 451, also claimed by some to be too literary to be SF. I’ve never understood the enthusiasm for this book, which is about the worst thing Bradbury ever wrote. But I guess when you’re starting from such a high point, even ‘worst’ is relative.
PS I really don’t want to protract this – it’s a bit of a null argument, I think, as it’s a matter of opinion in the end, and since when did you get pilloried for having an opinion that was different from the majority? I accept most people don’t agree with me.
Okay, well, yes sometimes you do get nobbled for being a minority… but hopefully not in such an enlightened environment as Nature Network.
Hi Brian — sorry if you got the impression that in disagreeing with you, I was attacking you; I wasn’t. I was merely presenting a friendly defense to the equally congenial red flag you waved in my direction over on your blog. I too have no time for the notion that ‘SF can’t be literary’, because there are so many beautiful examples that prove it wrong again and again, but that’s an entirely different argument, isn’t it? Loads of what I call ‘lab lit’ is not what most would call ‘literary’ and some of it is poorly written. ‘Lab Lit’ as a label is not some stamp of quality; it’s only a handy indication of where you are going to find it in a book shop and what sort of experience you are likely to have when you read it. The tale will be one of science as a profession, and the world will be realistic and everyday. And that is all it means.
The only reason I set it apart is to help attract readers and writers who are specifically interested in this sort of experience, as it is a largely non-overlapping audience. I am trying to reach people who think they are not interested in science, including women. If my books were marketed as science fiction, I fear I’d only be preaching to the converted.
Am I allowed to read Jenny’s book without forming an opinion on this topic?
Just wondering.
Please do! :-)
Brian, I don’t understand why you think you’re being nobbled for being in a minority? If you’re being nobbled, it’s because there’s no evidence to support your opinion.
And I wouldn’t class 1984 as science fiction for other reasons.
Richard, you_must_ form an opinion. We’ll be marking you.
If a work of fiction deals with matters pertaining to science, doesn’t that make it science fiction? I never really understood the difference that people make between ‘science fiction’ and ‘literature’. It is akin to the distinction that some people make in PD James’ detective stories which are often considered to be crime fiction elevated to the hallowed portals of ‘literature’.
I have a simple view. If a book reads well, I like it. If it doesn’t… Well, I don’t like reading those ‘grim tragedies of … life that one promptly returns to the library after a brief look at page One’ (quoting PG Wodehouse, of course!). A case in point, I have tried to read ‘Fountainhead’ 9 times till now, but could not finish it even once!
All this discussion has so piqued my interest in Jennifer’s book. My wife promptly stole it from me upon its arrival. I shall get my hands on it this weekend, hopefully.
Kausik, the answer to your question is ‘no, not in the way that ’science fiction’ is understand by the reading public (except Brian)‘. If there’s a wallet stolen in a story, does that make it a crime drama?
I agree that ‘science fiction’ is a subset of ‘literature’: to try and claim works as being science fiction when they obviously are not doesn’t do anyone any good, and probably says more about the person making the claim than any positive benefit in terms of ‘stigma’.
s/understand/understood/
Sorry.
I always feel that science fiction has a lovely touch of otherworldliness to it – not necessarily literally, but there tends to be a slight skew to reality, an extrapolation, a parallelness (not parity) to what we know. This is what makes it so fantastic for social commentary — we are given a chance to see ourselves and our society from an interesting new angle, much more so than we might through a ‘straight’ story. I just reviewed Neal Stephenson’s ‘Anathem’ for Nature, and it made observations about science in society that would have been very difficult in any other genre.
My book, on the other hand, is pretty straight. It’s just about a bunch of friends in a lab in modern London. There isn’t a sense of the time or place being anything other than what it really is. So unlike with SF, as an author, I wasn’t able to make some of those neat social observations. But the trade-off is that I am describing something that is very close to reality — and as most people know nothing about labs or what scientists do, I hope that they can enter my world and perhaps feel a bit more comfortable about it next time they are tempted to feel nervous about science or its practitioners. The reality gives a sense of familiarity, whereas a lot of SF tends to throw me off kilter (in a good way), and that’s not what I wanted to achieve — this time, anyway.
Interesting discussion. I remember when I looked for certain books at the Main library when I was a kid and some of them were not to be found since they were not seen as “real literature”. And then, that is not the same as one established writers write something like Sci-fi …
I have always thought that sci-fi is when the science is fictional and is crucial to the story and the world described. Like the Asimov books… I think that I regard 1984 and Brave New World as dystopian books, like Children of Men, but Brave New world more as a sci-fi since 1984 (if I remember correctly) seem more “likely” in terms of usage of science and the computers/surviellance are not off the wall strange (at least not now).
Then again, I guess the aversion of calling the books sci-fi is some kind of old school thing that that would make them “less good” and “less worth and read”. It is like when we discussed chic lit at lablit forums and realised that some English lit graduates will say Austin is chic lit ;)
Most important point – Richard, yes you are allowed to read the book without forming an opinion. In fact, I insist! I think this is part of Jenny’s point in not wanting lab lit labelled as SF – as soon as it is, it becomes something for a certain audience, rather than the general audience. (Having said that, Harry Potter is, without doubt, fantasy, yet this didn’t stop it having a general audience.) So do read it, please!
I made my point rather heavily above (mostly because Richard was so snarky) – but I think there’s an interesting development here out of scientists trying to understand something that isn’t science. In science there is generally a right answer to the question. In the real world there are often many right answers to a question – and this applies most wholeheartedly to the answer to ‘what is science fiction?’ Just as I can say a piece of Tudor church music is beautiful and you might say it sounds discordant rubbish – both personal opinions – I defend my right to have an opinion on what SF is that’s different from some other people’s.
{WICKED STIRRING IT WARNING} Incidentally, I reckon by Asa’s definition, Jenny’s book is SF. After all (I presume) PAX is fictional, and it is crucial to the story. However, I personally don’t agree the science has to be fictional. There has been plenty of SF where the science has been just rocket ships (say) or the world wide web…
PS The first Richard in my comment was Richard Wintle, the second Richard was Richard Grant – apologies! Too many Richards here, just like there are too many Brians…
I disagree, there are insufficient Brians
If everything in a work of fiction was true, you’d have to call it fact. The amount of scientific information in my book that isn’t true is vanishingly small. It alters reality no more than does having a character who doesn’t exist in real life (as in every work of fiction).
Making up your science in a work of fiction is a great way of avoiding doing lots of tedious research. In my next book, which involves Alzheimer’s, it was a lot more work, and the science kept changing under my feet.
That wasn’t snark, Brian: that was vigorous disagreement with a side order of
poppadomsexasperation.It’s a blog. Why are you posting if you don’t expect disagreement?
Jenny, is it really worth trying to explain what lablit is and isn’t at such length? Is it necessary to try to establish a seperate label for this? Just wondering, since the debate is getting confusing even for those familiar with the concept at this point – might forcing a new label on the genre not confuse people and (worst case) even prevent them from picking up the book because they don’t know what to do with it? There won’t be a seperate lablit section at the bookstores anytime soon, I guess, so until then would the most helpful ‘label’ (if one is needed) not be ‘mainstream’ (as suggested by Brian), until lablit maybe establishes itself (when the number of similar books increases)?
p.s. Richard: Our comments crossed. I’m waiting for it…
That’s a little bit like labelling this box of oranges ‘apples’ because no one has ever seen an orange yet and hey, it’s fruit, right?
I think (no I don’t – I’m actually on autopilot this morning) that much of this definition depends on context. The comment above that SF is something written by SF writers has a lot going for it. Here’s an example Kim Stanley Robinson is an SF writer, with a long track record in the genre. His recent trilogy (Forty Signs of Rain and its sequelae) are therefore classed as SF. But if you read the novels, especially the first two, there’s very little SFnal about them> I wonder, had Forty Signs been KSR’s first novel, whether he’d have been rated as SF?
Similarly, I don’t think anything can be classed as SF that was written before the ‘Golden Age’ of US pulp fiction in the 20s and 30s, when Hugo Gernsback coined the term ‘Scientifiction’. Wells, Poe, Huxley etc etc wrote works that can be classed as SF retrospectively, but hindsight is a dangerous thing – similarly, to class Jane Austen as ‘chick lit’ is nonsense.
Brian Aldiss thinks all SF stems from Frankenstein, a novel written in the then-popular Gothic mode, such as The Castle of Otranto (novels that Jane Austen sent up) but I think that’s wrong too, at least in the strict sense. Such things were precursors to SF, rather than SF itself.
There’s an even more pragmatic definition – SF is the product of SF publishers. For example, anything published by TOR will be SF by definition, because Tor is an SF publisher.
Shall we move on to “crime fiction” now ? ;-)
I am not sure why people get so upset when I talk about lab lit as a provisional category or try to think about these books in a different way. It is, and always has been, a thought experiment. It’s been incredibly useful for nucleating like-minded readers and writers over the past four years, and it has raised the awareness of why there are so few scientist characters in mainstream fiction. So, is this a bad thing? I don’t think so. I am not actually trying to force anything on anyone: LabLit is a project with a modest goal, and I think it’s succeeding. I find that the people who get the most irritated by what I am trying to do are SF fans who (incorrectly) assume that I am trying to avoid a label with a stigma or that my efforts to promote scientist characters in mainstream fiction somehow demean SF.
But let’s face it. SF does not need any promotion: it is a thriving genre with a massive fan base, instant recognition, and its own section in the bookshop. Why should I spend my time running just another website devoted to it? The point of lab lit as a concept is to encourage writers to use more scientists and science in fiction, and to do this we have found it useful to explore the distinctions, rather than try to say that it’s all the same. In my opinion there are distinctions, and these are interesting distinctions, and it’s stimulating to discuss them. If this puts people off reading my book, then I’m surprised that there are readers who are that squeamish, but don’t feel it’s really worth stopping what has been a very entertaining and worthwhile experiment.
Jenny, I was making my comment with the much wider audience in mind, which it would be great for your book(s) to have at some point. Like I said (or at least tried to say), maybe lablit can then sneak in through the backdoor as a category that establishes or defines itself (again, for the wider audience).
p.s. For the record, TOR thought my book wasn’t SF.
Steffi, our posts crossed. Yes, I think that’s a good idea. But in some ways it’s too late — the website is very popular, people are discussing it, the term is being used, it’s all rolling now and I don’t think I could call it back if I wanted to. Also, my publisher is keen to associate LabLit, the project, with my book.
Despite all the analysis, I do hope people will just read it because it’s a good story, and recommend it to their friends. In some ways this is probably a lot more important than how it is packaged or marketed.
Here, here to that, Jenny! What I wouldn’t like in the debate is to lose the fact that it’s a great book, however you choose to classify it. (How about we just call it a book?)
You may be pleased to note that over at my other blog, where the original post is there are now at least three comments from people who will be rushing out to buy a copy.
When it comes to selling books, controversy is good, shirley?
Thanks Brian!
Well of course you need the website up and running and a group of people familiar with the term – otherwise where would it sneak from?
;)
And don’t call me Shirley.
p.s. For the record, TOR thought my book wasn’t SF.
QED.
Two loose thoughts. (I’m kind of scared to read all the comments too closely because I haven’t read Experimental Heart yet and don’t want accidental spoilers.)
There’s often not a lot of science in science fiction at all. Just the technologies that supposedly have come from some unmentioned science.
When I explained the concept of the TV show ReGenesis to people (“it’s a drama about a bunch of scientists in a fictional lab, and some of the science is real but some is realistic and made up to make a good story”) several of them joked “Now that is science fiction.” Joked, because they clearly didn’t think that it was SF, even though the show was classified as such by broadcasters. It was very science-heavy, but a large part of the science was real and just the people were fictional. That’s not what SF is.
I’d note in defense of terms like Lab Lit and Chick Lit that agents and publishers seem to consider these to be vital shorthand. If you can’t describe your book in one or two words, you’re in deep trouble trying to access the mainstream publishing industry. If you can’t do it in ten, I think you’re considered a complete basket case. I hate the whole concept, but developing a new term like Lab Lit seems the best alternative.
Ah, bugger it all, too many responses to this post to read.
I shall read the Rohn Magnum Opus (assuming that html markup actually works) and form no opinion whatsoever. Sci-fi, or not, who gives a FF? If it’s fiction, it’s fiction, and if it’s good, it’s good. End o’ story. So to speak.
/mumblemumblemumble
All right. I admit I suck at critiquing a book, any book. Therefore, I am just going to gush… I absolutely LOVED Jennifer’s book. I withdraw every bit of my earlier comment about Science Fiction. Richard Wintle has put it very appropriately and succinctly in the preceding message – I couldn’t have said it better.
My naive account of this book, which I finished up straight in two days over many hours of continuous reading, may contain some hints, what some may call ‘spoilers’, as to the story line. So if you are all agog about finding out the mystery by yourselves, kindly do not read any further.
Experimental Heart is fiction involving people who work in Science, not hallowed supernatural beings, but everyday human beings who are capable of looking at, analyzing and solving problems in a different way by virtue of their training, and at the same time, who are equally capable of making mistakes, thus emphasizing their essential human-ness (I am avoiding the word ‘humanity’).
Dr. Rohn’s description of the laboratory environment was impeccable, as I am sure anyone who has read the book will agree. It was not difficult at all for me to effortlessly slide into – or imagine – each of those roles based on my own experiences – the under-grad, the finishing grad student, the post-doc trying to hold together the vestiges of his or her sanity. These are the people that I move around with, every single day; these are even I, at times, down to the ethical dilemmas of animal experimentation, the long hours spent at the bench working as well as trying to untangle results from piles of data, uncertainties over the translational nature of one’s research, the inherent angsts of post-doctoral life, even crossing the breadth of the lab holding two stacks of 90mm petriplates, balancing them with the chin – so quintessentially familiar! And that alone made the book so enjoyable, not to mention the interesting plot and oh! The psychology of the characters! Dr. Rohn has captured the essence so well.
I liked the way Dr. Rohn took care to explain the shop-talk in lay terms, but never breaking the flow of the narrative. I don’t, of course, know if all non-scientists would understand the concepts readily, but it was great reading about our bread-and-butter stuff explained in common parlance. It kind of added a good deal of perspective to the underlying business. The repeated use of the word ‘skive’ was endearing, a popular British word (I first came across this in the Harry Potter books), not so much used Stateside.
I was happy for Christine, a bit sad for Maria, and absolutely glad that Andy finally managed to get out of all that self-imposed funk. I am a hopeless romantic by nature and was yearning for a more concrete commitment from Andy, but I understand the realism. The only thing I am really upset about is why I could not ever have a boss like Magritt V… Ah, well!
I applaud Dr. Rohn on a book well-written; in fact, I can’t stop cheering.