(This is a very tongue-in-cheek entry.)
It’s no secret to regular readers that I loathe so-called generic fantasy. And it is generic, in a very supermarket-product sense. Generic fantasy is a pale imitation of someone else’s original product. It is the yellow box that says CEREAL on the bottom shelf.
Most generic fantasy is wholesale intellectual thievery from J.R.R. Tolkien. Yes, he himself built his world based on mythology, and I am aware that one of his goals was to create a mythology for England. But that does not earn lazy authors any points with me if they write using his basic world-building elements. I don’t care if your elves are doing something nontraditional, like building and racing high performance race cars. I don’t care if they are detectives, paired up with a gruff but lovable dwarf who chomps cigars and quips about unsolved cases. You’re still relying mostly on the hard work that Tolkien did for your characterization and world building.
Stop being so lazy and make up your own worlds! China Mieville, you get an A from me. Even if I didn’t like Un Lun Dun very much (understandable, being a children’s book).
The same goes for you bloody adults that read this stuff. It’s forgivable in the habits of a D&D playing teenager, but you should know better. You’re deliberately impoverishing your brain by reading this stuff. Put down the Robert Jordan and back away slowly. The Sword of Shanara has been read plenty enough times. Terry Brooks, you have your money. Let’s lock all the copies in a big vault and forget about it for a few centuries.
It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even see Tolkien’s work clearly. I am sure he did something impressive and new, once upon a time, but I cannot view his work without looking through the lens created by the garbage that has followed it. I might have been a fan if I hadn’t been exposed to everything that came afterwards. I do enjoy the Hobbit, I guess, but it’s by no means my favorite fantasy novel.
I guess what I am trying to say is, if you write and sell a book that involves a reluctant, small-sized hero being tasked to steal something for the Bigger Folk and facing Mighty Danger, receiving help along the way from the lithe, tall, and earthy people with pointed ears and high chin bones, it gives me the right to punch you in the gonads. You have been warned.
Now I’m off to write up that dwarf-and-elf-they-solve-crime! story.
