Just sticking to more recent works: The Road, Neuromancer, and Watchmen spring to mind.

Historically, the number of critically accepted and acclaimed genre novels is staggering and disproves Crazy Eddie’s core thesis easily enough: 1984, Brave New World, LotR, Once and Future King, Poe, Stevenson, Wells, etc., etc. Honestly, it’s just absurd. And, of course, you wouldn’t want to judge “literary fiction” by it’s lowest common denominators.

Douchenozzles like Docx will also argue that Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” *isn’t* dystopian genre fiction, because it’s *good*, and therefore by definition not genre fiction.

You can’t tell me that “The Road”, or Atwood’s “Handmaiden’s Tale”, or “The Left Hand of Darkness”, or freakin’ “Dune” aren’t relevant, high-brow literature that’s as well-written as anything likely to be on Snobby McSnobberson’s bookshelf.

Don’t worry. It’s just the penis envy of literature.

“If only more people wanted to read that which is not terribly entertaining!”

Wow.

Jealousy is such an ugly emotion . . .

We had a patron come into the library a few years ago who asked for our ‘classics’ section. She was somewhat put out that she had to search for the ‘real literature’ through the ‘modern junk’ and ‘genre trash, like science fiction’ (that’s a direct quote). My co-worker asked if he could help her find a specific author.

She said, “Jules Verne.”

To Reign in Hell – Steven Brust. A fantasy tale of the famed battle in heaven, it transcends “genre” and calls into question everything you thought you ever knew.

I once bought a book by John Gardner. I don’t quite remember the title. I think it was something like “On Becoming a Novelist”. It was my first experience with this war between genre and literary fiction. The first chapters (I only got to these) he pretty much criticizes genre writers and then goes to explain why they suck. One of the things that I remember was about metaphors. That most genre authors don’t use truly unique metaphors, or something. He didn’t say that they were cliche, but they just didn’t go beyond what comes to mind or something.

I went to pick up one of my fantasy books to see if it were true. I picked up “Beyond the Shadows” book 3 of the Night Angel Trilogy by Brent Weeks and opened it at a random page. Weeks uses what I considered great metaphors (better than anything i could come up with), but I understood what Gardner was saying. The metaphors weren’t THAT creative. I wasn’t blown away with the hidden brilliance and meaning of his words.

But my point is this.

I couldn’t put down the book.

I must have read that at least book twice and here, after just flipping to a random page, I was hooked for the third time. I probably sat there for a good hour before I could pry my eyes away.

That’s when I realized. Screw Gardner. I love this stuff. I don’t know if The Night Angel Trilogy is “stellar” work in general. I just know it’s my favorite fantasy trilogy to date.

That article pissed me off so much. It’s the kind of bullshit that I ran into before Harry Potter made reading fantasy “legit”.

I’m going to second Neil Gaiman. American Gods rocks my world every time I read it. Karin Lowachee’s Warchild series deals with some heavy, contemporary issues.

And you’re welcome. ^.^ Gotta share the ire.

A quick check on Amazon shows us three novels by Mr. Docx, the key one apparently being PRAVDA, published in 2008. Interestingly, near the end of the Publishers Weekly review on the page, PW talks of — and demonstrates — what it terms Docxie’s “dangerously overheated” prose. Could Docx be a pothunter calling the kettle Brown? Here’s the review, have a look.

From Publishers Weekly
Docx’s second novel (after The Calligrapher) wrings out all the theatrics to be had from unhappy urban-dwelling twins, their sexually voracious father and dead Russian mother. Twins Gabriel and Isabella Glover, both 32 and leading lackluster lives—she at a New York PR firm, he the editor in London of Self-Help! magazine—see another crack form in their perennially tortured existences when their mother, Maria, who defected to marry their British father, dies alone in St. Petersburg. (Their despised father, Nicholas, meanwhile, dabbles in art, decadence and self-important interior monologues in Paris.) All are unaware of an additional family member: Arkady Artamenkov, their mother’s first son, who had been kept afloat by Maria’s financial assistance and the guiding hand of his junkie friend, Henry Whey. After the checks stop, Henry hatches a plan to send Arkady to plead for money from the family that doesn’t know he exists. Though Docx’s prose can get dangerously overheated (Give me the sincerity of nakedness and the honesty of desire, O God, and deliver me from the turgid bourgeoisie and all their favorite phrases), the crushing atmosphere will draw in fans of dark Euro-fiction. (Mar.)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
Review

I’m glad people are mentioning mainstream writers who are writing genre fiction. I’d say I don’t read genre fiction, but I’d be lying since genre fiction has influenced so much contemporary fiction.

I took one writing class years ago. The instructor was not a fan of genre fiction; at the time, all I wrote was genre fiction because it was fun and had a structure that allowed me to learn how to tell a story. So we bumped heads when it came to our tastes. But…she loved Vonnegut. “Love” may be an understatement when it came to Cat’s Cradle, which is full of genre fiction elements. She thought there were few better books written!

Hell, even literary darling, Michael Chabon, came out and said in so many words, “We literary writers can learn a thing or two by studying and writing genre fiction,” in his forward to McSweeney’s Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales. He knocked himself for getting wrapped up in writing without telling a story. And he’s done a lot more genre stories since.

I dare somebody to read Jeffrey Ford’s novels and tell me he’s not good. His stuff straddles all kinds of lines, but he’s clearly a genre writer…a genre writer who walks a better literary path than many literary writers.

I’ve tried reading both of Jonathan Franzen’s novels and put them down. Perhaps part of it is I think, when it comes to writing about the sadness of Suburbia and peeling back its veneer, A.M. Homes actually has balls and does it, instead of making “edgy” suburban fiction safe enough not to greatly offend its suburban audience. So much literary fiction about sad families has been done to death — much of it is the same and lacks power and structure.

It’s no wonder people turn to genre fiction. Justin and Marko mentioned some great examples of genre novels that crush a lot of literary fiction out there; hell, some of the things they mentioned ARE literary novels.

I haven’t read a straight up sci-fi, horror, or fantasy novel for years, but I see elements of the genres in most things I read. And hell…Chuck’s blog is one of the few writing blogs I read regularly and actually reply to ’cause he walks through all kinds of cool stuff and has a bright bunch of followers, most of whom seem to be into genre fiction on some level.

I think a lot of literary writers and their followers would do well to learn how to actually tell a story and recognize a good story. They could do a lot worse than dropping the pretense and turning toward genre fiction to learn how to actually tell a story with some structure and substance.

In a world where self-published entrepeneurs like Joe Konrath (working in Thriller and Horror genres) and Amanda Hocking (working in YA urban fantasy) are making between 10 and 20 THOUSAND DOLLARS A MONTH — without a publisher — well, let’s just say that it’s just *adorable* that the old genre=ghetto argument is being trotted out again.

I’m sure that it’s *entirely* coincidental that Docx has a new book coming out.

I’m not going to bother to list stellar genre work — I’m not interested in legitimizing Docx’s pissant ranting by bothering to refute it. I’ll just be over here, writing genre material and getting ready to release it in 2011, taking advantage of the revolution in publishing that’s generating extremely comfortable earnings for writers smart enough to give readers what they’re looking for, without waiting for a traditional publishing house to bestow its favor.

@Gareth –

You’re not wrong, but I’d argue you’re maybe on a different track. Docx is perfectly willing to admit that genre work earns the bucks, but what he’s not willing to admit is that it earns the quality. Money legitimizes genre work from a economic perspective, sure — and, as a working writer, I’m definitely on board with that.

But the important part here is that genre work is just as legitimate in terms of the writing, the culture, the themes, all those fiddly bits that allow a book to transcend entertainment and become — what? Art? Literature? Whatever you want to call it.

So, I certainly don’t disagree with you, but I think you’re arguing a slightly different thing.

Also, I don’t consider listing stellar genre work as somehow mystically giving power to Docx’s bullshit. I just think it’s a good way to remind people that awesome work is out there, and further, giving names and titles of authors and books someone might want to read — nothing wrong with recommending good books to people. That doesn’t give Docx legitimacy — it just spreads the word about great books, and the industry needs that kind of energy.

– c.

I’m not one for great literature, but I know when something both rocks my socks and moves my soul, and I have two such on my shelves right now.

Howl’s Moving Castle, Diana Wynne Jones. I have no patience for pretty writing if it bogs down the story, and most does, but HMC is stunningly rendered and I couldn’t put it down. I remember grinning as I read to the end, and my grin just got bigger and bigger. What a fantastic book.

To the Hilt, Dick Francis. Francis wrote a fuck-ton of books, and I admire him for that. I haven’t even managed to read them all, but all are at least good, and some are truly exceptional. To the Hilt is incredible. I couldn’t tell you what I learned from it, but damn. I love that book.

Which reminds me–if you want to check out more YA, Chuck, do NOT miss Diana Wynne Jones. Or I will come to your house. With rabid badgers.

Well, with regard to the economic perspective, I’d argue that it’s part-and-parcel of the entire argument. Remember, the writers viewed as the epitome of English literature — Shakespeare, Dickens, etc. — were, in their time, hacks writing popular entertainment for filthy lucre. The veneer of respectability and “Great Art” was bestowed after the fact — and by the same species of hierarchically-minded dipshit as our friend Docx.

Dear Chuck,

First, I’d like to clarify that I defer to you in these matters. You are published widely while I am but one of many wannabes in a bottomless, fetid ocean of pitiful literary hopefuls.

That said, I think you should have taken a deep breath before launching open (and some veiled) ad hominem attacks against another writer. Your righteous indignation might have set you on the wrong path. I’ll address some of the sign posts on the road you took.

Firstly, Docx uses Brown and Larrson as exemplars only in as much as they have accrued astronomical sales. Writers work within genres like romance, crime, fantasy in order, primarily, to sell, by relying on a well established production and sales pipeline. There is endless advice on-line (and perhaps I should discount it for that very reason) that points towards an increasing likely-hood of getting published if you approach an agent/publisher with a series in a nice genre. Many of the young writers that you find writing in a genre chose to employ their talents in that manner in order to sell. It is therefore not so illogical for Docx to choose the best-sellers as exemplars of their respective domains.

He is by no means “resigning genre work to the ghetto” though the title of his article is misleading in that way. In fact, he never talks about genre and literary as synonyms for poor-quality and high-brow respectively; he calls that style of argument patently disingenuous. He says, “Both positions are bogus and indicative of something (also interesting) about the way we talk of literature and culture more widely.”

In fact, he only refers to genre and literary to the extent that they define the constraints imposed as well as the conventions assumed by the writer. The publishers count on the reader to recognise the milieu and embrace a new work of romance, for instance, for those very reasons (readers want the happy ending, the heaving bosoms, and so on). He’s not instigating a turf-war, as you imagine. He’s asking for a bit of clarity and truthfulness in accepting our motivations when we chose to write in certain ways.

While you persistently insult Docx, you conveniently gloss over his profound appreciation for the work that the best of you genre-writers do. He says, “None of this is to say that writing good thrillers is easy. It is still incredibly difficult. But it is easier.” Easier the way that cave-diving might be considered easier than climbing mountains. He’s referring mostly to a difference in kind.

Literary novels are, by definition, supposed to break new ground and chart new territories[1]. Genre novels, are, by publishers’ request and readers’ expectation, supposed to show ingenuity but only within well-defined templates. “Literary” is a genre only if you imagine that there is some template to adhere to. There is none.

Docx is also cognisant that the distinction between literary and genre is a continuum. It’s clear in his conclusion where he almost begs up-and-coming genre writers not to attempt to emulate the poorer instincts of the most successful of their ilk but to embrace the best of what is literary because “Surely they (the reading public) deserve better.”

The literary-genre debate has been bastardised. I can understand why your immediate reaction was rage. But rage is blinding. In the end, your proclamation that “that’s where Docx is fucking this all up” and that “the genre ghetto is bullshit” speaks more to your insecurities, hang-ups and misguided outrage than to anything he actually said.

Thank you for your time. I love you and respect you. I trust that this doesn’t sound like the ranting of an uppity, unpublished, guttersnipe attempting to make his name at the expense of yours.

Sincerely,

Nik.

Footnotes.
[1] Julian Gough, Divine Comedy.
http://www.prospectmagazine.co.uk/2007/05/greek-comedy-modern-literary-novel/

Man, this dude has really sparked my ire and even before I’ve finished my coffee. I can’t tell you how often this debate comes up in my circle of writer friends, some of whom only write “literary” fiction. It’s like they assume because someone is writing fantasy, or sci-fi or any one of the other genre labels that it can’t also be literary. And more often than not, they assume that if such a thing exists it is the exception rather than the norm. Like they assume that us “genre people” don’t give a rat’s testicle about craft or language. That’s bullshit.

I would certainly consider Neil Gaiman literary. Also A.A. Attanasio, Anne McCaffery, and in the historical fiction realm, Ken Follett (hell, his book was picked by Oprah!) and Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel.

By that same token, I have read some books that are considered “literary” which were crap. But I didn’t judge the entire genre by those bad apples.

@Nik:

I respect your opinion, and respect the civil tone, but I’ll offer bold disagreement.

Docx makes hay out of casually dismissing or denigrating genre works. You don’t seem to buy this, but on my read, that’s where he’s going.

Dismissal: Thrillers aren’t easy to write, no, but they’re “easier” than literary fiction.

Dismissal: Genre fiction is constrained, and that lessens the “thinking and imagining” that go into writing.

Dismissal: Genre fiction is compared to cheap fast food. (Genre = burgers, and burgers are all fundamentally the same.)

He places himself on a higher pedestal — not so high that he doesn’t offer concessions, but still above genre writers. Oh, boo hoo, there exists greater pressure on a literary writer (really?). Oh, literary work is subject to greater complexity and imagination (really?).

He completely ignores the fact that literature is not the province of the literary, that “genre” (a bullshit term that stirs a false dichotomy) is not as truly constrained as he thinks it to be, that Larsson and Brown and Child are not the case studies or exemplars he seems to think that they are.

For the record, Docx put that work out there. I consider the article divisive. I think it’s mean-spirited and pretentious. So, when I say it made me angry, I’m speaking from a place of honesty.

As for my — what were the words you used? Insecurities? Hang-ups? Misguided outrage? — well, there I’ll just have to disagree with you, too.

– c.

@Nicholas, could you please clarify your statement:
“Writers work within genres like romance, crime, fantasy in order, primarily, to sell, by relying on a well established production and sales pipeline.”

If I am reading that correctly, you are saying that writers choose to write genre in order to sell books? I can tell you that I write fantasy not to sell books, but because I like fantasy. Any writer and agent worth his/her salt will tell you not to chase the trends, or sales or the “new hot thing” but to write what you want to write and let the market sort itself out.

However, I am also unpublished so, this argument might not hold water. And I could also be taking your statement and argument the wrong way. If so, I do apologize. Also sorry if I am hijacking a blog comment thread.

Genre fiction is usually judged by the worst of what it produces, while ‘literary fiction’ is judged by the best. That’s too bad, but it’s easy to do, and therefore, people do it.

I write romance, and one of the first things people say when they’re being honest (after ‘Oh! And do you write under your own name?” assuming I would use have a pseudonym because, you know, I write trash) is that they don’t like how romance is so formulaic and all about the sex and isn’t good writing. I say “Oh, you must mean the ones YOU’VE been reading,” and they always, always, always say, “Oh, I don’t read that stuff.”

As far as what Docx might have meant, and how it’s been misinterpreted, it’s hard to misunderstand the ebbing of his happiness when he realizes all the books people are reading on the train are popular fiction of the Larsson ilk.

It’s also difficult to misunderstand statements like: “So it follows that genre tends to rely on a simpler reader psychology ” and “Mainly this: that even good genre (not Larsson or Brown) is by definition a constrained form of writing.”

You mean, like, haikus?

He means ‘constraint’ = ‘lesser quality,’ de facto, end of story.

I disagree.

And questions being raised in the opening pages of a story relies on ‘simpler reader psychology’? Really? call it ‘tension.’ Why does it have to be complicated to be good? Perhaps the lack of good storytelling tension is the reason more people don’t read ‘literary fiction.’

I’m surprised to repeatedly find such thoughtlessness in those prescribing more thoughtful literary endeavors to the poor, dumb masses.

But most importantly, I’d say there’s a big difference between storytelling and writing. And therein lies the rub.

When Docx says, “This is why genre writers cannot claim to have everything,” I get confused. I find clarity again in the next sentence: “They can take the money and the sales and all that goes with that. And we can sincerely admire them for doing so.”

Ah. I see. You mean you DON’T admire genre writers.

Honestly, I read all sorts of fiction. Many genre readers do. I think money is waiting to flow into the coffers of ‘literary’ fiction authors. They just need to tell a good story while they’re writing their gorgeous ideas in their beautiful words and phrases.

Docx says: “And yet, the English language, not football, is our greatest gift to the world. So, if we are to save our excellence in this from its slow extinction, then we simply have to find a way to bring the finest writers of the language more often to the attention of the carriages of people up and down the country who are evidently still willing and able to buy novels for the journey.”

(Ignore the swipe at the low-brows who like sports.)

My suggestion would be that people are superiorly ready to read “the finest writers of the language,” as long as they start telling a good story while they’re at it.

I think many writers aim for to put high-quality storytelling and writing into their tales, but in the end, people read for Story. Which is why Amber found the writing in her example to be solid but unexciting, but the STORY was un-put-down-able. And so she did not put it down.

That’s why people read. It’s why we sat around fires and told stories in the dark, and it’s why we sit on trains and read off electronic devices: it’s all about the Story.

Tolkien, Herbert, Gibson, Lovecraft, Poe… I’m pretty sure the literary works of the aforementioned writers are studied in schools all over the world. His article reads a lot like the grognarding edition war posts on Dungeons & Dragons forums.

Why hello Mr. William Shakespeare! And look, you have a nice new folio with you! What’s that? There are ghosts and witches in it? Blasphemy! Get outta the classroom with all those crazy genre elements, you pulpist! You can go sit by that guy with his “Beowulf” who thought you could establish a basis for English literature on a story with a dragon in it.

Jacqueline Carey’s Kushiel’s Dart. Juliette Marillier’s Daughter of Sevenwaters. Terribly gripping stories with the most gorgeous turn of prose I’ve seen.

Anything by Diana Wynne Jones. Anything by Terry Pratchett, or Douglas Adams, or – as you’ve stated – Neil Gaiman, and especially anything by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman at the same time.

And if that’s what he has to say about “genre” writing, I bet he doesn’t even try to consider graphic novels as anything even approaching literature – a terrible and pedantic viewpoint all on its own.

Adrian McKinty’s Celtic noir is rich in both language and characterization, and the thing I always loved about Stephen King is the humanity of his characters. I think publishers and book snobs need to give readers credit for our omnivorous appetites. I’m tired of people inventing rules and classifications to justify their fantasies and failings.

I would rate Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrel by Susanna Clarke up with anything Jane Austen ever wrote. Not unsurprisingly, literary fiction has claimed this work as their own.

Jeff VanderMeer’s Shriek: An Afterward is a breathless character study that happens to be set in the strange fantasy city of Ambergris. But the writing is on par with many of the post-modern masters of the literary genre.

China Mieville’s The City & The City is a mindfuck fantasy with a detective story thrown in, but the atmosphere and the poetry of the writing are second to none.

I have to agree, though, that often genre doesn’t do a good job to put it’s best foot forward and it’s rare that a single writer has the extensive imagination and the writing chops to be capable of fitting into both camps. Iain Banks has attempted to do this but I don’t know many who are familiar with both his literary and SF work. Some of the books up for major awards were intriguing as to the premise and atrocious as to the writing. Take Boneshaker by Cherie Priest for instance. Dreadful dialog and pedestrian writing but excellent premise and world building.

I’d like to see more genre writers combine their world building chops with amazing craft. Love to see more experimental prose and risky points of view. There are authors doing this but they are often overlooked.

One work of genre fiction that I believe really stands out as great is “The Name of the Wind” by Patrick Rothfuss.

[...] are a couple of rebuttals from crime writer Steve Mosby, Chuck Wendig and Nick [...]

Ok, @Sarah W? That anecdote just made me laugh so hard. Probably hard enough that my friend/landlord upstairs noticed XD

Neil Gaiman stands out, especially American Gods and Anansi Boys, so does a lot of Dianna Wynn-Jones’ work. However there are so many excellent genre authors it would be hard to do any list of them justice.

Comparing genre fiction and literary fiction in terms of difficulty to write is just silly. All compelling books took effort. Whether that effort was expended in the first draft on the fifteenth, or evenly spread throughout. If it’s good, someone put their heart into writing it.

On the flip side sometimes really appallingly bad writing has still had blood and tears poured into it. Effort alone doesn’t make something great.

I think the surge of genre work compared to literary is because (and @kriskennedy has already said this) genre fiction tends to deliver a compelling story and relatable characters more often than literary works do.

It doesn’t mean literary writing is unreadable, some of it is excellent, but if you want to be uplifted and entertained then reaching for something by your favorite author is a far surer bet that something that was written only to break new grounds.

We read the books we like to read, and we spend our money on the ones we feel we will get the most out of. Saying any one form of writing is wrong just cuts you off from a potential source of enjoyment, and why would you want to do that?

The more I hear these Literary/Genre arguments the less I know what anyone’s talking about. One side says ____ sucks because ______! Other side responds, hey, that’s not _____ at all! Maybe the problem is no one called the mob together to get all the definitions straight before the name-calling started.

Sure I like genre books. Westerns- Blood Meridian. Detective stories- Inherent Vice. But aren’t those books shelved in the “Literature” sections?

Oh God, I’m so confused. . .

While we are talking about awesome genre fiction, it behoves me to mention Gene Wolfe, in particular his stunning “Book of the New Sun” series which must surely be one of the finest –if not the finest– fantasy fiction ever written.

[...] little article by Edward Docx raised a few feathers around the internet this weekend.  The basic premise, in case you haven’t read it or [...]

Come on now guys, now don’t be mean to the lit-geek. He’s sensitive and prone to crying, unlike you money grabbing genre people (I bet you even like sports).

Thank you for posting Docx’s article and THANK YOU for managing to capture most of what my response would have been without flying off the handle (as I surely would have done had I started writing my thoughts immediately after I finished reading his).

For great genre fiction, the first thing that comes to mind is Stranger in a Strange Land by Heinlein. Until I was about 15, I hated reading. I read that book ( a weighty, thought-provoking scifi masterpiece), broke down and sobbed in a hallway at school as I finished the final chapter and am now (due in no small part to that experience), a (genre) novelist.

With the exception of the obvious catagories (scifi, fantasy, horror, etc) I have to admit that I’m still a little fuzzy on how one tells the difference between genre and literary fiction. Judging by which books fall into which slot according to certain academics and ‘literary’ writers, it seems like if you enjoy reading it, it’s genre and if, three chapters in, you’re ready to claw your eyes out with a salad fork to distract from the mind-numbing monontony, it’s literature.

@Nic

“Writers work within genres like romance, crime, fantasy in order, primarily, to sell, by relying on a well established production and sales pipeline.”

I think you’re missing a very imporant word, there. That word, if you’re wondering is “some”. *Some* writers work within genres primarily to sell books. Some writers, like me, write for the sheer love of writing, and write within genres because we have stories to tell, and sometimes our stories happen to involve demons or dream walking or romance or elements of suspense. *Some* of us don’t stop and think, ‘is what I’m writing genre or literary?’ Some of us just write.

As an addition to my previous comment, just as part of the discussion, not directed at anyone in particular, I’m curious to know if Docx has ever written a thriller and if so, was it published, and if so, was he satisfied with it? I’m just wondering how he knows it’s easier than writing literary fiction.

Ok, I’m done. Anything else I have to say, I’ll have to put on my own site.

Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher” and “The Masque of the Read Death” are definitely genre, but also a part of the canon of Western literature.

Ursula LeGuin’s Earthsea trilogy is also genre, and for me some of the best of what the fantasy genre can do. (Would be the gourmet charchoal grilled hamburger for me.) She also wrote Orsinian Tales which is literary fiction and speculative fiction at the same time.

Look at someone like Iain (M.) Banks who writes both genre SF and literary fiction.

Genre fiction can be anything but the junk food equivalent, and not all literary or contemporary fiction is gourmet.

But at this point in time I can’t make myself get upset by the opinions of either the literary or the genre crowd. The defensiveness is surprising though.

The man is a “literary” snob. My work is better than yours, because it’s my work.

[...] brings us to Chuck Wendig’s blog post “Get Genre Out of the Ghetto (Or, ‘Who the Fuck is Edward Docx?’)”. You absolutely must read it if you haven’t already (and the fairly long Comments section as [...]