Eleven chapters into Game of Thrones now. It's actually turning out to be quite tolerable. I've only cursed at it twice since my last rant.
I did get to Arya, though. The tomboy princess. Which has sparked another rant.
Arya, you see, is terrible at embroidery, and all girly things. She is not conventionally pretty. She is good at riding and math, and wants to learn to use a sword.
Arya is a strongfemalecharacter written by a straightwhiteman.
I am not saying that straight white men cannot write strong female characters - case in point Joss Whedon. But there are a few things to keep in mind when writing them.
1. Don't define them solely by their femininity
Arya's main defining characteristic is that she is a girl who likes boy things. This is the same problem I have with crossdressing - the strongfemalecharacter is strong because she takes on a masculine role. That is not feminism. All that does is reinforce gender binaries and male supremacy.
2. Don't ignore her femininity
The fact that Arya has to be bad at embroidery to be good with a sword (presumeably) bothers me. I crochet. I also fence. You can have both! This goes back to the binary - because Arya likes boy things, she can't like girl things. I am also irked by the fact that no writer has ever had the balls to go ahead and make the princess a transman. Or at least a dyke. Something other than falling prey to compulsory heterosexuality.
Okay, yes, Arya lives in a patriarchal medieval society, and I think she ends up in an arranged marriage later, so I'm going to set her aside for a moment and look at other tomboy princesses.
1. Eilonwy, from the Prydain Chronicles, by Lloyd Alexander
Eilonwy is also better at swordplay than embroidery - at least, she has more fun with it. She is not played off as a master swordswoman, though; she just likes adventuring. And she's fun. She's the sharp-tongued, practical wit, who comes up with weird analogies for everything. Arya is a girl who likes boy things. See the difference?
In the end, though, Eilonwy marries Taran out of literary convention.
2. Suzy Turquoise Blue, from The Keys to the Kingdom, by Garth Nix
Suzy's also kind of an Eilonwy. Not a princess, though. More practical than witty, and wonderfully irreverent. She is not girly, but not because she is masculine. She just is.
And actually, she doesn't hook up with anyone. Then again, she's like ten, and it's a kids book.
3. Elayne, from The Wheel of Time, by Robert Jordan
I could also have gone with Egwene, but I'm trying to stick with the princess theme. She becomes a badass mother (no, literally), queen, and mage. All perfectly within her reach as a princess, without crossdressing or being "masculine." Though she does start swearing like a soldier to get man-cred.
Sort averts CH? There's some polyamory going on.
4. Isodel, from Year of the Griffin, by Diana Wynne Jones
I'm reaching a little with this one. Isodel is conventionally pretty and unconventionally badass. I mean, she rides a dragon. Not as part of a scheme to save the world, he just kind of fell platonically in love with her. Everyone kind of falls in love with her.
She falls in love at first sight with Emperor Titus. It's Jones, so it's sort of a parody. All of her romantic subplots go like, pretty much. No fuss, no bother.
5. Millie, from The Lives of Christopher Chant, by Diana Wynne Jones
Technically a priestess/goddess rather than a princess. Very powerful enchantress. Decides to escape oppressive temple life to become a British schoolgirl. Can you get much girlier than that?
Marries Christopher when they are much older.
6. Everyone with a vagina (and then some!) in The Last Rune, by Mark Anthony
Seriously. There are two queens in book one, neither of which rule over a matriarchy (I think it's insulting to say that the only way a woman can rule is if the ruler has to be a woman). Plus, the main female lead gets mistaken for a duchess, and is bad at embroidery because she is from the modern world where people don't do that anymore, not because she rejects feminine things; and her best friend is a baroness who practically runs a castle as part of her gender role, helps the heros save the world a million times, and eventually becomes a queen in her own right. Not to mention that there are female VILLAINS. I mean, how awesome is it that you have so many strong female characters that you don't worry that having female villains is going to put a negative portrayal of women in your book?
Aryn, the baroness, has to marry a prince to become queen, but it is also clear that he had to marry her for the populace to accept him as king, and the Final Battle is coming so they need a strong leader NOW. They don't love each other, but it's implied they learn to like each other.
7. Rapunzel from Tangled
Yeah, it's a movie. It's also past midnight and I did not start out intending to make a top ten list. I think I'll cut it at eight. But she's a flippin' Disney princess - girly girl icon. But she has personality beyond her gender, and she is interesting and fun. Also, remember what I said about female villains?
So she marries a prince in the end. It's a Disney movie. And they actually had good chemistry, as opposed to, say, Arial, who never actually talked to her prince.
8. Tek, from the Firebringer Trilogy, by Meredith Ann Pierce
Yeah, I'm really tired now. Tek's a unicorn princess. Actually, she's not actually a princess, but she marries a prince. And then she finds out she's actually the king's daughter, and they have an incest scare, but then it turns out the prince isn't the king's son (sorry, spoiler). She's a badass warrior, kind of Nala-like in that she can kick the prince's ass (hmm, Nala's another good one), but unicorn society doesn't exactly have gender roles, so in-universe, her warrior skills have nothing to do with her female-ness. Out of 'verse, however, they give her traditionally masculine characteristics, while the prince is the more "feminine" sensitive peacemaker type. But it's not over-the-top, and I like her.
Like I said, marries the prince. CompHet. It's not a married-ever-after, though; it happens at the beginning of book 2. So they have an actual relationship as a married couple.
I need to stop now before I stop making sense. Basically, Arya bugs me because she is flat, and Martin doesn't know how to write women. The End.
Showing posts with label The Last Rune. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Last Rune. Show all posts
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Queering Epic Fantasy - Anthony vs. Martin, Part 2
I didn't even get to the queer stuff yesterday, did I? I probably won't get to it today either.
I'm going to talk about food.
I am also going to cheat on my five-chapter limit, but it's for good reason.
Here is Martin's description of a feast:
"The Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations."
Here is Anthony's description of a feast:
"The great hall of Calavere had been decorated to resemble a winter forest. Boughs of evergreen and holly hung from soot-blackened beams high above, and more had been heaped along the base of the walls. Their icy scent mingled with the smoke of torches. Leafless saplings stood in the corners of the hall, to suggest the edges of a sylvan glade, and even the tapestries on the walls added to the illusion with their scenes of stag hunts and forest revels, woven in colors made dim and rich with time."
What I'm getting from this is: If you are going to write epic fantasy, and you have to describe a feast, you must always start with "The great hall of X..."
But seriously. Where would you rather be? Winterfell or Calavere? My take on Martin - and one of the reasons I don't like him - is that his fantasyland is very generic. Who is the singer and how did he get there? What is he singing about? Who cares? It's a medieval feast, and they have bards and shit there, don't they?
It looks like I am going to get to queer stuff today after all.
One of the reasons Anthony is much more detailed in his description of castle life is because he has quite a few female characters. The king's ward practically runs the castle - including preparations for feasts. Who put together the Winterfell feast? The wife, whatsername, Catelyn? She doesn't seem to have much imagination. Or maybe it was planned out by a man. That would explain a lot.
Martin's female characters are annoying me five chapters (and one episode of the show) in. We have the supportive wife, the victimized child-bride, and the tomboy princess (though I have heard that the child-bride takes a level in badass later, so I promise I'll read a few more chapters after this rant). So - we have one woman whose strength is being married to a strong man and making him stronger, we have one woman who is completely dominated by the heteropatriarchy, and we have one who takes on a male role in order to gain power.
Anthony's world is also quite male-dominated, but he uses the patriarchy to ask questions about power and gender relations. He has not one but two queens, neither of which rule over a matriarchy. He has no crossdressers. And yes, the Witches are a big equalizing factor in his world, but it is not so much a matter of giving women power as giving women space. Martin has yet to pass the Bechdel test. Okay, so Anthony takes until chapter 9, and then it's a cryptic warning and not really a conversation, but once you get more than one female character, he really takes off.
So the reason I like Anthony and not Martin is that Anthony's writing is queer. I'm not talking about his order of gay knights, or his gay protagonist, or his representation of every letter in the LGBTQetc. acronym. Anthony is queer because he gives attention to issues of power and privilege, so that his almost stereotypical quest arc becomes fresh and exciting because it is seen through a different lens.
Now it's time for five more chapters of Martin. Maybe I'll have another rant by then.
I'm going to talk about food.
I am also going to cheat on my five-chapter limit, but it's for good reason.
Here is Martin's description of a feast:
"The Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. Its grey stone walls were draped with banners. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but down at this end of the hall his voice could scarcely be heard above the roar of the fire, the clangor of pewter plates and cups, and the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations."
Here is Anthony's description of a feast:
"The great hall of Calavere had been decorated to resemble a winter forest. Boughs of evergreen and holly hung from soot-blackened beams high above, and more had been heaped along the base of the walls. Their icy scent mingled with the smoke of torches. Leafless saplings stood in the corners of the hall, to suggest the edges of a sylvan glade, and even the tapestries on the walls added to the illusion with their scenes of stag hunts and forest revels, woven in colors made dim and rich with time."
What I'm getting from this is: If you are going to write epic fantasy, and you have to describe a feast, you must always start with "The great hall of X..."
But seriously. Where would you rather be? Winterfell or Calavere? My take on Martin - and one of the reasons I don't like him - is that his fantasyland is very generic. Who is the singer and how did he get there? What is he singing about? Who cares? It's a medieval feast, and they have bards and shit there, don't they?
It looks like I am going to get to queer stuff today after all.
One of the reasons Anthony is much more detailed in his description of castle life is because he has quite a few female characters. The king's ward practically runs the castle - including preparations for feasts. Who put together the Winterfell feast? The wife, whatsername, Catelyn? She doesn't seem to have much imagination. Or maybe it was planned out by a man. That would explain a lot.
Martin's female characters are annoying me five chapters (and one episode of the show) in. We have the supportive wife, the victimized child-bride, and the tomboy princess (though I have heard that the child-bride takes a level in badass later, so I promise I'll read a few more chapters after this rant). So - we have one woman whose strength is being married to a strong man and making him stronger, we have one woman who is completely dominated by the heteropatriarchy, and we have one who takes on a male role in order to gain power.
Anthony's world is also quite male-dominated, but he uses the patriarchy to ask questions about power and gender relations. He has not one but two queens, neither of which rule over a matriarchy. He has no crossdressers. And yes, the Witches are a big equalizing factor in his world, but it is not so much a matter of giving women power as giving women space. Martin has yet to pass the Bechdel test. Okay, so Anthony takes until chapter 9, and then it's a cryptic warning and not really a conversation, but once you get more than one female character, he really takes off.
So the reason I like Anthony and not Martin is that Anthony's writing is queer. I'm not talking about his order of gay knights, or his gay protagonist, or his representation of every letter in the LGBTQetc. acronym. Anthony is queer because he gives attention to issues of power and privilege, so that his almost stereotypical quest arc becomes fresh and exciting because it is seen through a different lens.
Now it's time for five more chapters of Martin. Maybe I'll have another rant by then.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Queering Epic Fantasy: A critical comparison between "Game of Thrones" and "Beyond the Pale." Part One.
If you're read any of my other posts on this blog, you know that I am obsessed with this obscure fantasy series by a guy named Mark Anthony (not the singer) called "The Last Rune." I am not unbiased.
But I can't stand Game of Thrones.
I don't know why. Sure, he has a massive cast, and I can't seem to care about any of them, and everyone in the prologue dies, and it's very hetero-European-centric. And it doesn't have a Dark Lord, while Anthony does, and there are certain storytelling conventions that make me think that Anthony was in some ways influenced by Martin (it's plausible - Thrones came out in 1996 and Pale was published in 1998). And we certainly cannot disregard the effect of nostalgia goggles.
So what is so different about the two books?
I have only read the first five chapters of Thrones, so I will limit my text citations of Anthony to the first five chapters of Beyond the Pale.
Let's start with the first line of the prologue.
Thrones: "We should start back," Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. "The wildlings are dead."
Pale: The derelict school bus blew into town with the last midnight gale of October.
What can we deduce from this? Well, Thrones tells us immediately that there are going to be weird names of pseudo-European fantasyland tradition. Seriously, have you noticed that nearly every fantasy novel has a character named "Gareth"? "Gared" tells me that he is going to do a lot of re-spelling, which is possibly even more annoying than scrabble-bag names.
What else? Starting the story at dusk gives a sense of darkness and foreboding and spooky things; like the start of a horror movie. But WTF is a wildling? That's not explained until the next chapter; instead, the author spends a great deal of time describing the characters' clothes.
Now in Pale, we see we are in the real world with school buses and Octobers. We can see the scene, instead of trying to imagine some dude named Gared in some kind of wood with some other people. The question that keeps you reading, then, is not "What is going on?" but "Why is the school bus blowing into town at midnight?" Obviously, Martin does not have that luxury, but half the time I feel like he does not explain things enough, and the other half I am frustrated by him giving too much detail and name-dropping.
The rest of the prologues are as follows: In Thrones, the viewpoint is actually held by Will, but they all get killed by spooky zombie-things so it doesn't really matter; you never really get a sense of the characters, so you don't really care that they're dead. In Pale, a creepy preacher-like figure oversees a troupe of faerie-like beings raise a tent (for some reason my mental image always looks like that one scene in Dumbo) to host "Brother Cy's Travelling Salvation Show." You can tell no one here is a real viewpoint character; they are kept distant, mysterious, not someone you connect to but someone you wonder at. The prologue is quite different from the rest of the chapters; which is why it is a prologue and not a first chapter where everyone dies. Also, the preacher reappears in chapter two, so he isn't completely forgotten. He's relevant, just not a viewpoint character.
Now for the first line of Chapter One.
Thrones: The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.
Pale: Sometimes the wind blowing down from the mountains made Travis Wilder feel like anything could happen.
There's no contest here - a description of the weather, or an introduction into the main character's soul. Ugh, okay, I'll try for less bias. Autumn signifies dying things, and adds to the foreboding of the prologue. The chapter also details a seven year old boy witnessing his first execution, and so it can also signify and end to childhood innocence. But that's a cheap metaphor. Wind as a vehicle for infinite possibilities is not something you see every day.
Now, in the first five chapters of Thrones, there are five different viewpoint characters; I believe there are a total of seven in the book. In the first five of Pale, there is one, with a total of two main ones and a few glimpses of others in the climax toward the end.
On page one of Thrones, we are introduced to six characters: Bran, Robb, Mance Rayder, Old Nan, Jon, the man that gets killed. On page two we get Eddard Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Jory Cassel, and Robert. Also, I can't find anywhere that explicitly says that Robb is Bran's brother. Yes, there is a character list in the back, but I'm trying to get into the story, and I'm trying to focus on Bran, and there are all these names distracting me.
Pale does not introduce anyone besides Travis until three pages in, for a total of three: Travis, Moira Larsen, who is not important, and Max, who is. Moira Larsen is introduced as Travis, a saloonkeeper, is worried about being late for work and having to face irate patrons. Max is his one employee. I'm still fuzzy on who half the names in Thrones are.
I think the fundamental difference in the structure of the two books is that Martin takes a broad sweep of his story, introducing the setting and the people, and telling the story after the stage has been set. Anthony introduces Travis, and pulls him into the story once we know him.
Anthony is also quicker on the action. By the end of chapter five, we have already had our first incident, complete with fire and danger and strange beings. Prologue of Thrones does not count as an incident because it doesn't connect to a recurring character. Five chapters in, it looks like some kind of fantasyland family drama. It's a soap opera. The characters are shallow enough.
I have so much more to say on these books. So much that I think I'm going to break it up into multiple posts. Tomorrow: Feasts and castles! After that, I might actually get to the queer theory component.
But I can't stand Game of Thrones.
I don't know why. Sure, he has a massive cast, and I can't seem to care about any of them, and everyone in the prologue dies, and it's very hetero-European-centric. And it doesn't have a Dark Lord, while Anthony does, and there are certain storytelling conventions that make me think that Anthony was in some ways influenced by Martin (it's plausible - Thrones came out in 1996 and Pale was published in 1998). And we certainly cannot disregard the effect of nostalgia goggles.
So what is so different about the two books?
I have only read the first five chapters of Thrones, so I will limit my text citations of Anthony to the first five chapters of Beyond the Pale.
Let's start with the first line of the prologue.
Thrones: "We should start back," Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. "The wildlings are dead."
Pale: The derelict school bus blew into town with the last midnight gale of October.
What can we deduce from this? Well, Thrones tells us immediately that there are going to be weird names of pseudo-European fantasyland tradition. Seriously, have you noticed that nearly every fantasy novel has a character named "Gareth"? "Gared" tells me that he is going to do a lot of re-spelling, which is possibly even more annoying than scrabble-bag names.
What else? Starting the story at dusk gives a sense of darkness and foreboding and spooky things; like the start of a horror movie. But WTF is a wildling? That's not explained until the next chapter; instead, the author spends a great deal of time describing the characters' clothes.
Now in Pale, we see we are in the real world with school buses and Octobers. We can see the scene, instead of trying to imagine some dude named Gared in some kind of wood with some other people. The question that keeps you reading, then, is not "What is going on?" but "Why is the school bus blowing into town at midnight?" Obviously, Martin does not have that luxury, but half the time I feel like he does not explain things enough, and the other half I am frustrated by him giving too much detail and name-dropping.
The rest of the prologues are as follows: In Thrones, the viewpoint is actually held by Will, but they all get killed by spooky zombie-things so it doesn't really matter; you never really get a sense of the characters, so you don't really care that they're dead. In Pale, a creepy preacher-like figure oversees a troupe of faerie-like beings raise a tent (for some reason my mental image always looks like that one scene in Dumbo) to host "Brother Cy's Travelling Salvation Show." You can tell no one here is a real viewpoint character; they are kept distant, mysterious, not someone you connect to but someone you wonder at. The prologue is quite different from the rest of the chapters; which is why it is a prologue and not a first chapter where everyone dies. Also, the preacher reappears in chapter two, so he isn't completely forgotten. He's relevant, just not a viewpoint character.
Now for the first line of Chapter One.
Thrones: The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.
Pale: Sometimes the wind blowing down from the mountains made Travis Wilder feel like anything could happen.
There's no contest here - a description of the weather, or an introduction into the main character's soul. Ugh, okay, I'll try for less bias. Autumn signifies dying things, and adds to the foreboding of the prologue. The chapter also details a seven year old boy witnessing his first execution, and so it can also signify and end to childhood innocence. But that's a cheap metaphor. Wind as a vehicle for infinite possibilities is not something you see every day.
Now, in the first five chapters of Thrones, there are five different viewpoint characters; I believe there are a total of seven in the book. In the first five of Pale, there is one, with a total of two main ones and a few glimpses of others in the climax toward the end.
On page one of Thrones, we are introduced to six characters: Bran, Robb, Mance Rayder, Old Nan, Jon, the man that gets killed. On page two we get Eddard Stark, Theon Greyjoy, Jory Cassel, and Robert. Also, I can't find anywhere that explicitly says that Robb is Bran's brother. Yes, there is a character list in the back, but I'm trying to get into the story, and I'm trying to focus on Bran, and there are all these names distracting me.
Pale does not introduce anyone besides Travis until three pages in, for a total of three: Travis, Moira Larsen, who is not important, and Max, who is. Moira Larsen is introduced as Travis, a saloonkeeper, is worried about being late for work and having to face irate patrons. Max is his one employee. I'm still fuzzy on who half the names in Thrones are.
I think the fundamental difference in the structure of the two books is that Martin takes a broad sweep of his story, introducing the setting and the people, and telling the story after the stage has been set. Anthony introduces Travis, and pulls him into the story once we know him.
Anthony is also quicker on the action. By the end of chapter five, we have already had our first incident, complete with fire and danger and strange beings. Prologue of Thrones does not count as an incident because it doesn't connect to a recurring character. Five chapters in, it looks like some kind of fantasyland family drama. It's a soap opera. The characters are shallow enough.
I have so much more to say on these books. So much that I think I'm going to break it up into multiple posts. Tomorrow: Feasts and castles! After that, I might actually get to the queer theory component.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
In Defense of the Fantastic
Here's the thing: My Creative Writing professor assigned us a short story to write. It can be "about anything you want. Except elves." I had mised thoughts on that. On one hand, I was thinking "I know, right? I f***ing hate elves." And on the other: "Sure, elves are stupid, but they don't have to be. You could write an elf detective story if you wanted to."
Hmm. I'll have to get back to you on that.
The point is, fantasy is what you make it. That is what it used to mean to "fantasize" - to come up with something completely new. Not to blindly follow the Tolkien-Eddings paradigm. Tolkien knew what he was doing when he wrote and epic quest, drawing on all sorts of mythology stuff. That is why the only thing resembling epic fantasy I can read anymore is The Last Rune series by Mark Anthony; because he, like Tolkien, pays attention to the epic myth, so that even though he tropes up the wazoo, he still manages to convey a sense of awesome.
That and I have two-inch thick nostalgia goggles.
So what if you don't like myths? They're silly, outdated, nonsensical, boring. Guess what? You can still write fantasy. Set it in modern day? Urban fantasy! Set it in a world with technology analogous to our own but they have MAGIC? Go right ahead! That is the whole point of fantasy. You can do whatever the heck you want.
Take Sarah Monette's Doctrine of Labyrinths series. Sure, it has its fair share of traipsing across the countryside, but there are saints and churches and random French and factories - and that's just background details she throws in to mess with your head. Monette also throws out your expectations. You think the wizard is the hero, but he goes insane and has to be dragged across the countryside by his half-brother, and once he gets better you think they're going to be all buddy-buddy, but the wizard is a complete douchebag in the second book, and the one character who is pure evil does not have any dastardly plots to take over the world. There are no epic battles. Felix and Mildmay have enough on their hands just trying to save themselves, without saving the world.
In the same vein Sarah Micklem's Firethorn has nothing whatsoever to do with traditional fantasy. She does all her own worldbuilding, the characters are mostly jerks, and even the ones that are a bit nicer are very not okay by modern standards - but it works in-universe. The magic is so subtly done you sometimes forget it is there - about all there is is that the main character can see in the dark - and the religion is so intricate I need to start a new sentence. There are two main types of religion in fantasy. The pantheon that doesn't do anything, and the annoyingly meddlesome pantheon. Firethorn has both. Seriously. The characters attribute events to divine intervention appropriately, but the reader can still shake her head and say "You silly pagan," if so desired.
And now for the counterexample.
Havemercy.
It is essentially Doctrine of Labyrinths fanfic. Sure, they made their own world, but they wanted to do esactly what Sarah Monette did. There's the gay wizard, but he doesn't go insane, and his love affair reads like a slash. There are the long-lost brothers, who have nothing at stake in their relationship. All the authors really made up was mechanical dragons, and that is not enough to support the overlarge cast of underdeveloped characters.
Now, what did they do wrong? They did not write fantasy. They wrote paradigm, only instead of Tolkien-Eddings, they just used Sarah Monette. But they completely missed the point. In copying the elements, they neglected to copy the style. Tolkien wrote travelogues, so he knew how to write traipsing across the country (your milage may vary). Monette knows everything there is about the Elizabethan era, and she reads nonfiction everything for fun. Micklem read army survival handbooks and memoirs - her whole first book is an army waiting for a war. Not one to save the world. And the war does not even start until the next book. The problem with Havemercy is that the authors did not know what they were writing; they just blindly followed what they though they should be writing. Take the gay character. Did any of your gay friends hook up because they were thrown into awkward physical situations by the writer? It sounds like an oxymoron, but fantasy needs to be realistic.
Sure, you make up a few rules, but humanity remains the same, and that is the strength of fantasy. Fiction deals mostly in the realm of what is. Yes, there is a certain amount of imagination in coming up with it, and you do actually face many of the same issues with worldbuilding, but in fantasy, you don't have to match the real world. It is more than just laziness; you can escape the usual explanations and arrive at deeper truths. Anything is possible. Anything.
Take advantage of it.
Hmm. I'll have to get back to you on that.
The point is, fantasy is what you make it. That is what it used to mean to "fantasize" - to come up with something completely new. Not to blindly follow the Tolkien-Eddings paradigm. Tolkien knew what he was doing when he wrote and epic quest, drawing on all sorts of mythology stuff. That is why the only thing resembling epic fantasy I can read anymore is The Last Rune series by Mark Anthony; because he, like Tolkien, pays attention to the epic myth, so that even though he tropes up the wazoo, he still manages to convey a sense of awesome.
That and I have two-inch thick nostalgia goggles.
So what if you don't like myths? They're silly, outdated, nonsensical, boring. Guess what? You can still write fantasy. Set it in modern day? Urban fantasy! Set it in a world with technology analogous to our own but they have MAGIC? Go right ahead! That is the whole point of fantasy. You can do whatever the heck you want.
Take Sarah Monette's Doctrine of Labyrinths series. Sure, it has its fair share of traipsing across the countryside, but there are saints and churches and random French and factories - and that's just background details she throws in to mess with your head. Monette also throws out your expectations. You think the wizard is the hero, but he goes insane and has to be dragged across the countryside by his half-brother, and once he gets better you think they're going to be all buddy-buddy, but the wizard is a complete douchebag in the second book, and the one character who is pure evil does not have any dastardly plots to take over the world. There are no epic battles. Felix and Mildmay have enough on their hands just trying to save themselves, without saving the world.
In the same vein Sarah Micklem's Firethorn has nothing whatsoever to do with traditional fantasy. She does all her own worldbuilding, the characters are mostly jerks, and even the ones that are a bit nicer are very not okay by modern standards - but it works in-universe. The magic is so subtly done you sometimes forget it is there - about all there is is that the main character can see in the dark - and the religion is so intricate I need to start a new sentence. There are two main types of religion in fantasy. The pantheon that doesn't do anything, and the annoyingly meddlesome pantheon. Firethorn has both. Seriously. The characters attribute events to divine intervention appropriately, but the reader can still shake her head and say "You silly pagan," if so desired.
And now for the counterexample.
Havemercy.
It is essentially Doctrine of Labyrinths fanfic. Sure, they made their own world, but they wanted to do esactly what Sarah Monette did. There's the gay wizard, but he doesn't go insane, and his love affair reads like a slash. There are the long-lost brothers, who have nothing at stake in their relationship. All the authors really made up was mechanical dragons, and that is not enough to support the overlarge cast of underdeveloped characters.
Now, what did they do wrong? They did not write fantasy. They wrote paradigm, only instead of Tolkien-Eddings, they just used Sarah Monette. But they completely missed the point. In copying the elements, they neglected to copy the style. Tolkien wrote travelogues, so he knew how to write traipsing across the country (your milage may vary). Monette knows everything there is about the Elizabethan era, and she reads nonfiction everything for fun. Micklem read army survival handbooks and memoirs - her whole first book is an army waiting for a war. Not one to save the world. And the war does not even start until the next book. The problem with Havemercy is that the authors did not know what they were writing; they just blindly followed what they though they should be writing. Take the gay character. Did any of your gay friends hook up because they were thrown into awkward physical situations by the writer? It sounds like an oxymoron, but fantasy needs to be realistic.
Sure, you make up a few rules, but humanity remains the same, and that is the strength of fantasy. Fiction deals mostly in the realm of what is. Yes, there is a certain amount of imagination in coming up with it, and you do actually face many of the same issues with worldbuilding, but in fantasy, you don't have to match the real world. It is more than just laziness; you can escape the usual explanations and arrive at deeper truths. Anything is possible. Anything.
Take advantage of it.
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