By Georgia Cooper
Fantasy fiction is such a powerful place to explore identity. We talk all the time about the purpose of representation in fiction—whether this be in movies, music, books or on TV—in relation to gender, experience, race, sexuality or religion. My own experiences with different identities in fantasy have both revealed me to myself and also expanded my understandings of other identities and experiences. But despite this, fantasy fiction is still largely ignored and is seen as a genre incapable of sparking any deep and meaningful thoughts about humanity, identity and the realities of our world.
I think that’s simply not true.
Fantasy’s growing popularity
In what is a shock to very few long-term fantasy readers, the genre is only just coming into mainstream acceptance as a ‘valid’ form of storytelling. The popularity of HBO’s Game of Thrones, in particular, has instigated the ‘overdue vindication of the genre’ of fantasy across novels and films, but there’s still a strange aversion to fantasy by non-fantasy readers. John Lanchester, from the prestigious London Review of Books, sums it up nicely: ‘People who don’t usually read, say, thrillers or military history or popular science will read, say, Gone Girl or Berlin or Bad Pharma. But people who don’t read fantasy just simply, permanently, 100 per cent don’t read fantasy.’
But why, when fantasy is so popular?
Many argue that it’s due to a snobbish rejection of fantasy as an ‘unworthy’ genre of fiction. ‘Real’ fiction, according to author Ian McEwan, deals with ‘human dilemmas’ and not ‘the speed of light’ or ‘anti-gravity boots’, which is why he classifies his futuristic novel Machines Like Me as very firmly not science fiction. This suggests that science fiction and fantasy can’t discuss the meaning of life, or the complexities of human relationships, or our place in the universe, or the impact of oppression. Rather than being celebrated, science fiction and fantasy act as ‘a kind of insalubrious “other” against which literary authors can demonstrate their superiority.’ Instead of being viewed as complex genres that deal with morality, agency, relationships, colonialism, gender, belonging, oppression and resistance, sci-fi and fantasy are often disparaged as ‘entertainment’ (as opposed to ‘literary’ fiction), which ‘emphasizes meaning over entertainment [and] aspires toward art.’
Yikes.
The diversification of fantasy
Regardless of what the critics say, fantasy and science fiction readers know that these genres are both meaningful and complex, particularly in relation to representation and discussions of identity. In fact, fantasy fiction is experiencing a ‘renaissance’ at the moment; queer representation in fantasy is booming, with sales of LGBTQIA books growing noticeably since 2019 even as fiction sales in general have decreased after the COVID-19 boom. Similar things are happening for other under-represented demographics; sci-fi and fantasy are seeing a slow but sure rise in works by Black and Asian authors and stories that centre people with disabilities. Children’s and YA books are becoming more diverse as well. More and more people are being represented on the page and on the screen, and I’m excited to see this happening in fantasy settings.
Finding oneself in books is something that I think most fantasy readers, fortunately, can relate to. My moment of self-realisation was finding queer characters. From Nico Di Angelo to August Landry, to Sabran IX and Adam Parrish, reading queer characters in fantasy really made me sit back and think, ‘wow, this is what everyone’s on about.’
Fantasy as a window into other experiences
While reading fantasy has been an amazing experience in self-discovery, it’s also taught me so much about identities that are not my own. My first experience with neopronouns was in Rebecca Roanhorse’s Black Sun. I’ve gotten to ‘meet’ genderqueer people in Rick Riordan’s Magnus Chase series and Shelley Parker-Chan’s The Radiant Emperor. C. L Clarke’s The Unbroken, N.K Jemison’s The Broken Earth and R. F Kuang’s Babel offer unparalleled explorations of colonialism, language and identity. Silas, the trans and autistic main character of Andrew Joseph White’s The Spirit Bares Its Teeth, has such a distinctive point of view and makes this book sit in my top recommendations list.
I know these stories are fictional—and fantastical—but the experiences and identities they champion aren’t. Samantha Shannon’s The Priory of the Orange Tree—which features dragons, knights, epic quests and curses—centres a sapphic couple who grapple with duty, expectations of motherhood, depression and other mental health issues, and religious repression of women. Tasha Suri’s The Jasmine Throne explores the complexity of colonial identities in a fantastical reimagining of ancient India, while also featuring wickedly cool plant magic and flaming swords. Andrew Joseph White’s Hell Followed With Us looks into the abuse of trans children under extreme religious ideology, but at the end of the world with grotesque monsters and apocalyptic viruses. Tamsyn Muir’s The Locked Tomb series manages to deal with ‘human dilemmas’ while also featuring travel at ‘the speed of light’ and sword-wielding lesbians (take that, Ian McEwan).
Fantasy as a genre still has a long way to go. Most fantasy is still about white, cis, heterosexual and able-bodied people, and many fantasy books and shows still take real experiences of oppressed groups without any acknowledgement that these experiences have their origins in real historical or ongoing circumstances. Nevertheless, I still think it’s worth celebrating the ways in which the genre is expanding to show diverse experiences. Take N.K Jemison, the first Black woman to win the Hugo award, who then won it again for all three books in her fantasy trilogy. She’s one of the few fantasy authors listed in the NYT Top 100 Books list, and she made spot number one on Forbes’ Top 30 fantasy books list for 2024. Or see Emma D’Arcy, an openly non-binary person, who triumphed in their role as Rhaenyra Targaryen in one of the biggest shows of 2024, HBO’s House of the Dragon. Fantasy really is going somewhere in its attempts to champion diverse identities. It’s sparking conversations and providing opportunities to learn about people who aren’t necessarily like you.
Let’s stop pretending fantasy isn’t powerful
As children, fantasy can teach us creativity, critical thinking and empathy. As adults, fantasy shows us even deeper complexities within the human experience. This post is, ultimately, a plea for the recognition of fantasy as a genre of meaning and importance because of its power to show us ourselves and others. We live in a time where authors of colour are receiving more recognition in the publishing world, queer authors are being celebrated in the mainstream and disabled and neurodiverse people are being included in more genres. So much of this is happening in the realm of fantasy! While critics and literary snobs often look down on fantasy as juvenile, this is where I am, learning and exploring and discovering experiences and identities beyond my own.
Georgia is a Master of Publishing and Communications student in her final semester of study. As an avid reader of fantasy fiction, she spends most of her time reading, thinking about reading, reading for work, or posting about reading on her Bookstagram. She can be found lounging in the sun with her dog on summer afternoons or curled up with a hot cup of tea on frosty winter mornings.
Cover image by Georgia Cooper from her Bookstagram. This is her selection of recommended books for the annual Trans Rights Readathon, hosted by the bookish community.
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