Grimdark: Not Cynical Enough?
Jan. 13th, 2019 09:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grayestofghostsI wrote these thoughts down about a month ago and am only now getting to posting them. I am current with the books of A Song of Ice and Fire, though that's not saying much considering the release schedule. I have no interest in watching the TV series after the first couple episodes, and I've heard that a lot of people have a hard time watching it because it’s too dark and depressing.
ASoIaF is the example critics usually give for the genre of “grimdark”, a genre whose definition is pretty loose, but is generally characterized by its relentless pessimism, or what some consider to be “realism”. Liz Bourke gives a compelling definition for grimdark in her review of The Dark Defiles by Richard Morgan: “"Grimdark" is a shorthand in modern fantasy literature for a subgenre that values its gritty realism, and that attempts to overturn long-established heroic tropes. […] for me its defining characteristic lies in a retreat into the valorisation of darkness for darkness's sake, into a kind of nihilism that portrays right action—in terms of personal morality - as either impossible or futile.” She goes on to elaborate, “I think it's a nihilism that many people find comforting: if everything is terrible and no moral decision can either be meaningful or have any lasting effect, then it rather absolves one from trying to make things better, doesn't it?” Further criticism of the genre points to its use of brutality of marginalized people as “realistic” backdrop as exploitative and catering to the fantasies of the (typically white, young, male, heterosexual, cisgender) audience is pretty damning. Because of this, genres to counter the popularity of grimdark have taken on a tone of moral crusade. First was the concept of noblebright, the exact opposite, where good can absolutely triumph over evil, and then hopepunk, which asserts that good isn't a destination but that rightness is an action that should be aspired to. Bloggers who write at length about these two genres argue that they have enough “darkness” in their lives that they don't want to see the descent in depravity that they've seen in real life reflected in their fiction, as well.
I'm going to be honest. I don't really like any of these genres. I don't like the broad pro- or anti-morality stance of either of them. And I have a probably controversial opinion:
Grimdark is not cynical enough.
That everyone is nasty to each other is cynical, but it’s not deeply cynical. It’s pessimistic, maybe nihilistic, sure, but it’s a simplified view of the world, and simplified views are preferable because they’re easy, even if they are, on the surface, unpleasant. If everyone is operating with brutality based on their own self-interest, the world becomes knowable, and understanding the impact of your decisions becomes easy. It’s as Bourke says, the setup of a grimdark landscape absolves both the character and the reader of any moral conflicts. A world that is deeply unpleasant becomes paradoxically comforting to the reader.
It is easy to be cynical when the world around you is displaying the worst of the worst. So, it’s not really right to call grimdark “cynical”. In fact, one could call it anticynical. By almost cartoonishly constantly showcasing the worst of humanity, it can also lull the reader into a false sense of security, of, hey, at least the world isn’t that bad, so what are we complaining about? Grimdark is cynical because it creates its own distrust in humanity by genre convention, not because it actually brings any insight of the dark underbelly of humanity.
If you wanted to write a truly nasty book, you wouldn’t make it grimdark. You would make characters approach the situation with the best of intentions, and you’d make them screw it up anyway. No, you wouldn’t merely make them fail because of circumstances, or make the fail because of some other person’s bad intentions, or even make them fail because of a perfectly human lack of resources, energy, or miscalculation. You’d make them actually fuck up, seriously, by their own merits. That you can be trying to do the right thing for all the right reason but still fail for reasons that are entirely in your control because of your own character flaws, that no, it is not the thought that counts, and even your attempt to tread lightly can materially make things worse for yourself and those around you because of your hidden, ugliest traits, is a dark story. It’s cynical. It’s a bleak view of the world.
But there’s already a genre that does this, and it’s so old it doesn’t even get a cute name. It’s called tragedy.
Tragedy does not get the same sort of criticism leveled against it as a genre as grimdark. We could argue that there are plenty of people who refuse to read tragedy, who hate the genre, and it’s been canonized as valid and good because a bunch of old white dudes have been discussing it for centuries, but there’s more to than that. Tragedy has endured because of its emotional impact. Tragedy isn’t defined by a moral or anti-moral lesson, though it can have one. It’s defined by its impact on the reader. The first thing one learns about tragedy in any literature class is that tragedy is supposed to invoke “catharsis”. The genre has evolved significantly since Aristotle first claimed this, but this is still part of the draw that keeps bringing us back to watch characters fail despite their best efforts.
And this goes back to why my hackles raise at the ideas of ‘noblebright’ and ‘hopepunk’ as oppositional genres to grimdark. The idea of a just world where people can fight for what is right and triumph is, in the experiences of many, unrealistic, and seems facile. But my real objection is to hopepunk. If tragedy is cathartic, then hopepunk, the idea of a perpetual, scrappy fight against despair is the opposite. It’s exhausting. A tragedy may not be comfortable nihilism like grimdark, and it may end badly in the end, but at least, for the love of God, it ends.
I suppose this is the real problem I have with the grimdark vs noblebright/hopepunk view of the world, and why they are both so at odds with reality. The idea that all books need a moral lesson about how to deal with that deluge of shit in your life, that some outcome over another is possible or even inevitable, isn’t necessary. We don’t need to be told to keep fighting the ‘good fight’ all the time. It’s reminiscent of the perpetual drive to be productive, the perpetual drive to appear happy, the perpetual drive that if you’re not fighting for something right this second you should be, and even if you’re ‘practicing self-care’, the clock is still ticking. You have to get back on the horse at some point. It’s your moral obligation to get back on the horse. The constant mantras that ‘we have gone through worse times,’ which brazenly forgets those who didn’t make it. Why can’t we just pause and see value in something sad?
We have tragedy. It’s okay to feel sad sometimes. And with tragedy, you’re not obligated to feel anything else.
ASoIaF is the example critics usually give for the genre of “grimdark”, a genre whose definition is pretty loose, but is generally characterized by its relentless pessimism, or what some consider to be “realism”. Liz Bourke gives a compelling definition for grimdark in her review of The Dark Defiles by Richard Morgan: “"Grimdark" is a shorthand in modern fantasy literature for a subgenre that values its gritty realism, and that attempts to overturn long-established heroic tropes. […] for me its defining characteristic lies in a retreat into the valorisation of darkness for darkness's sake, into a kind of nihilism that portrays right action—in terms of personal morality - as either impossible or futile.” She goes on to elaborate, “I think it's a nihilism that many people find comforting: if everything is terrible and no moral decision can either be meaningful or have any lasting effect, then it rather absolves one from trying to make things better, doesn't it?” Further criticism of the genre points to its use of brutality of marginalized people as “realistic” backdrop as exploitative and catering to the fantasies of the (typically white, young, male, heterosexual, cisgender) audience is pretty damning. Because of this, genres to counter the popularity of grimdark have taken on a tone of moral crusade. First was the concept of noblebright, the exact opposite, where good can absolutely triumph over evil, and then hopepunk, which asserts that good isn't a destination but that rightness is an action that should be aspired to. Bloggers who write at length about these two genres argue that they have enough “darkness” in their lives that they don't want to see the descent in depravity that they've seen in real life reflected in their fiction, as well.
I'm going to be honest. I don't really like any of these genres. I don't like the broad pro- or anti-morality stance of either of them. And I have a probably controversial opinion:
Grimdark is not cynical enough.
That everyone is nasty to each other is cynical, but it’s not deeply cynical. It’s pessimistic, maybe nihilistic, sure, but it’s a simplified view of the world, and simplified views are preferable because they’re easy, even if they are, on the surface, unpleasant. If everyone is operating with brutality based on their own self-interest, the world becomes knowable, and understanding the impact of your decisions becomes easy. It’s as Bourke says, the setup of a grimdark landscape absolves both the character and the reader of any moral conflicts. A world that is deeply unpleasant becomes paradoxically comforting to the reader.
It is easy to be cynical when the world around you is displaying the worst of the worst. So, it’s not really right to call grimdark “cynical”. In fact, one could call it anticynical. By almost cartoonishly constantly showcasing the worst of humanity, it can also lull the reader into a false sense of security, of, hey, at least the world isn’t that bad, so what are we complaining about? Grimdark is cynical because it creates its own distrust in humanity by genre convention, not because it actually brings any insight of the dark underbelly of humanity.
If you wanted to write a truly nasty book, you wouldn’t make it grimdark. You would make characters approach the situation with the best of intentions, and you’d make them screw it up anyway. No, you wouldn’t merely make them fail because of circumstances, or make the fail because of some other person’s bad intentions, or even make them fail because of a perfectly human lack of resources, energy, or miscalculation. You’d make them actually fuck up, seriously, by their own merits. That you can be trying to do the right thing for all the right reason but still fail for reasons that are entirely in your control because of your own character flaws, that no, it is not the thought that counts, and even your attempt to tread lightly can materially make things worse for yourself and those around you because of your hidden, ugliest traits, is a dark story. It’s cynical. It’s a bleak view of the world.
But there’s already a genre that does this, and it’s so old it doesn’t even get a cute name. It’s called tragedy.
Tragedy does not get the same sort of criticism leveled against it as a genre as grimdark. We could argue that there are plenty of people who refuse to read tragedy, who hate the genre, and it’s been canonized as valid and good because a bunch of old white dudes have been discussing it for centuries, but there’s more to than that. Tragedy has endured because of its emotional impact. Tragedy isn’t defined by a moral or anti-moral lesson, though it can have one. It’s defined by its impact on the reader. The first thing one learns about tragedy in any literature class is that tragedy is supposed to invoke “catharsis”. The genre has evolved significantly since Aristotle first claimed this, but this is still part of the draw that keeps bringing us back to watch characters fail despite their best efforts.
And this goes back to why my hackles raise at the ideas of ‘noblebright’ and ‘hopepunk’ as oppositional genres to grimdark. The idea of a just world where people can fight for what is right and triumph is, in the experiences of many, unrealistic, and seems facile. But my real objection is to hopepunk. If tragedy is cathartic, then hopepunk, the idea of a perpetual, scrappy fight against despair is the opposite. It’s exhausting. A tragedy may not be comfortable nihilism like grimdark, and it may end badly in the end, but at least, for the love of God, it ends.
I suppose this is the real problem I have with the grimdark vs noblebright/hopepunk view of the world, and why they are both so at odds with reality. The idea that all books need a moral lesson about how to deal with that deluge of shit in your life, that some outcome over another is possible or even inevitable, isn’t necessary. We don’t need to be told to keep fighting the ‘good fight’ all the time. It’s reminiscent of the perpetual drive to be productive, the perpetual drive to appear happy, the perpetual drive that if you’re not fighting for something right this second you should be, and even if you’re ‘practicing self-care’, the clock is still ticking. You have to get back on the horse at some point. It’s your moral obligation to get back on the horse. The constant mantras that ‘we have gone through worse times,’ which brazenly forgets those who didn’t make it. Why can’t we just pause and see value in something sad?
We have tragedy. It’s okay to feel sad sometimes. And with tragedy, you’re not obligated to feel anything else.
Re: Thoughts
Date: 2019-01-22 06:11 am (UTC)If you want to write horror, or you want to write characters without agency, those two aspects go very well together. Few things are as horrifying as helplessness. Most people want a story about characters who do things, but horror is very often about characters who are done to. Again, it all depends on the kind of story you want to tell, or read.
>> because now I know I am being watched 👀 <<
Isn't that kind of the point to writing and publishing? But if it bugs you, I'll back off. I just dropped by because you friended me and I saw your blog had interesting things. A lot more people write fiction than meta about fiction.