That’s Science Fiction!
(1984)

It is probably futile to try to define sf to the satisfaction of all people. To find evidence for this, it is only necessary to look on page 256 of Jakubowski & Edwards’s The Complete Book of Science Fiction and Fantasy Lists, where you will find twenty different definitions of sf; or to consider the arguments among sf fans (including members of this society) about whether or not a particular book, film, or what-have-you can be classed as sf (or even as fantasy!). However, if may not be so futile to try to find a definition of sf which will satisfy at least on person (that is, me!). If at any time yor own views and opinions diverge from mine, you are quite welcome to go into a corner and sulk, or even to write your own article!

To begin with, it will be as well for us to know what I am going to try to write about: that is, what to I mean by the acronym sf? To save any argument about whether the genre should be called science fiction, speculative fiction, speculative fantasy, structural fabulation, or even, in 1984, “Gernsback Year” [the centennary of Hugo Gernsback, “The Father of Science Fiction”], scientifiction, I will use the label sf to mean any or all of these things, but in particular that literary genre which is described by my definition of sf. Which may be begging the question, but at least ensures self-consistency…

Also, to restrict my quest for the best of all possible definitions of sf I will consider only those included in the aforementioned Jakubowski & Edwards book, most of which can also be found in Nicholls’s The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction, in the entry “Definitions of Science Fiction” (sic!).

I reject as flippant Tom Shippey’s, “Science fiction is hard to define because it is the literature of change and it changes while you are trying to define it”, though it may well be an astute observation.

Norman Spinrad’s, “Science fiction is anything published as science fiction” is next to go. Though this does seem to make pragmatic sense, the application of the label science fiction is, as Stableford and Nicholls point out, subject to the whims of editors and publishers. Thus, many books which might generally regarded as sf may not be (indeed, have not been!) published as such. (In some cases, for example, Huxley’s Brave New World, or Hesse’s Das Glassperlenspiel, the book may sit more easily in the category of literature, but more generally it is because the author [for example, Kurt Vonnegut] or the publisher fear, perhaps rightly, that the label might have a deleterious effect on sales.)

This is followed swiftly by the academic definitions of Robert Scholes and Darko Suvin, and Judith Merril’s pretentious, “Speculative fiction: stories whose objective is to explore, to discover, to learn, by means of projection, extrapolation, analogue, hypothesis-and-paper-experimentation, something about the nature of the universe, of man, of ‘reality’.” The first two go, not because they are necessarily bad definitions, but rather because they are couched in a “scholastic” language which tends to obscure the meaning as far as the general reader (that is, me) is concerned. Ms. Merril’s definition, however, is rejected purely on the grounds of its academic pretentions!

However, its contents are similar to the definition, “Science fiction is the search for a definition of man and his status in the universe which will stand in our advanced but confused state of knowledge (science), and is characteristically cast in the Gothic or post-Gothic mode”, due to Brian Aldiss, who I consider to be a much more able critic and author. But, this too must go! A problem with many definitions of sf is that they are often attempts to describe what sf ought to be, rather than what it is: Mr. Aldiss’s definition is, I feel, just such an attempt.

Similarly I reject Theodore Sturgeon’s definition which, in any case, he intended as a prescription for good sf stories. (And a good prescription it is, too: “A science fiction story is a story built around human beings, with a human problem and a human solution, which would not have happened at all without its scientific content.”) Hugo Gernsback’s definition, “Scientifiction [is] a charming romance intermingled with scientific fact and prophetic vision”, appeared in the editorial in the first issue of Amazing Stories; as it was probably meant as a guide for prospective contributors, I also discard it here.

Other definitions that may be excluded because they do not encompass many established works of sf are those of Reginald Bretnor and Robert Heinlein (which are essentially the same): “Realistic speculation about possible future events, based solidly on adequate knowledge of the real world, past and present, and on a thorough understanding of the scientific method.” Of course, there are many sf stories where the author has failed to demonstrate his “adequate knowledge”; consider, for example, E. E. “Doc” Smith’s disregard for Einsteinian relativity!

Kingsley Amis, Isaac Asimov, and Fred Saberhagen all provide definitions very similar to J. O. Bailey’s, “A piece of scientific fiction [sic] is a narrative of an imaginary invention or discovery in the natural sciences and consequent adventures and experience”, which is perhaps the most succinct. However, none of the four fully defines sf to my satisfaction. (You may see why later!) L. Sprague de Camp goes further than the above by including, “Fiction… laid in any patently unreal though non-supernatural setting (the future, or another world, and so forth).”

De Camp’s distinction between “unreal” and “supernatural” echoes those definitions of sf which describe it as a “branch of fantasy, which, while not true of present day knowledge, is rendered plausible by the reader’s recognition of the scientific possibilities of it being possible at some future date or at some uncertain period in the past.” Sam Moskowitz’s definition goes beyond Donald Wollheim’s, inasmuch as it includes, “imaginative speculations in… social science, and philosophy” – and here I have the most nearly complete definition (to my mind) so far.

However, I adopt Barry Malzberg’s definition of sf as my definition. It is more succinct; it doesn’t come from mimetic fiction to sf via fantasy, nor does it contain the hoary cliché about the “willing suspension of disbelief”, yet it encompasses most, if not all, of what I call sf. It is ―

That branch of fiction that deals with the possible effects of an altered technology or social system on mankind in an imagined future, an altered present, or an alternative past.

Of course, I have neglected Frederik Pohl’s definition of sf, which was paraphrased by Bob Shaw when he visited Durham a few years ago: “Science fiction is what science fiction fans mean when they point to something and say, ‘That’s science fiction’.” But, of course, the definition I chose above as mine is effectively the same: It describes what I mean when I point to something and say ―

That’s science fiction!