![]() ![]() This is how many readers, authors, and even critics view the terrain of literature. Everything to the left of the 50-yard line is “realism” and everything to the right of it is “science fiction and fantasy.” But perhaps the left five-yard line is dotted with the dirty realism of Raymond Carver or researched historical fiction like Wolf Hallwhile the other five-yard line has the fantastic imaginings of Star Wars or Lord of the Rings. Art, being imperfect, can never reach either goal. The right endzone fully invents a new one. The left endzone perfectly imitates reality. But it’s made me wonder about “realism.” Are Salter’s stories more real than, say, the stories of George Saunders which may include fantasy or SF elements yet more clearly evoke the daily news? Is “realism” a useful term in 2020? Was it ever? I’m not critiquing Salter, who is one of the most stunning prose writers in American literature. Yet these stories of wealthy people having affairs and dinner parties are scrubbed of bitter partisan politics, foreign wars, and crumbling economics that have defined my own experience of American life, even though the book was published in Bush’s second term. Salter’s short stories are deeply moving and filled with gorgeous prose. Recently I escaped into James Salter’s masterful Last Night. For me that’s been stories labeled “realism.” Stories that conjure a different, more peaceful and stable world. In this chaos, I’ve found myself turning to escapist fiction. I wake up in the middle of a global pandemic to watch a reality-TV president spout conspiracy theories while dystopian corporations enact new science fiction tech. ![]()
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