Hey there!

I need to tell you about a massive free book event in a minute, but first...

I’ve been thinking a lot about the stories we tell as a society, and the function they serve.

(Forgive me a moment. I’m about to do a deep dive into writer nerdery today.)

This started because I’ve been reading John Truby’s Anatomy of Genre, where he breaks down the beats, tropes, and expectations of stories by genre.

Every genre — detective, fantasy, western, memoir, coming-of-age, love, comedy, etc — represents a different path to more fully understanding the world. A unique window, Truby writes, into how a particular aspect of the world works, offering unique lessons in how to live.

• Mythic stories are concerned with finding destiny and meaning.
• Crime stories are concerned with the difference between being moral and being lawful, and seeking justice.
• Love stories are concerned with learning to love yourself and others in order to find happiness.
• Detective stories are concerned with learning to think critically and uncover the truth.

I think this is why different people are drawn to different genres. Someone concerned with discovering their true self will be drawn to memoir and coming of age stories. Someone concerned with facing their ghosts will be drawn to horror. Someone concerned with the meaning of success and honor will be drawn to action stories.

The sorts of stories we seek out says a lot about our values and state of mind — and that can change. (And, of course, we can change our minds if we want to.)

As an example, at the beginning of the 2020 pandemic, I found myself reading a shocking amount of romance for someone who’d barely picked up a romance book before that. But I wanted happiness. I wanted to see people caring for each other. I wanted to know things would end well.

The last thing I needed in my life was more uncertainty and pain, so I turned to a genre that literally promises a happily ever after with every book.

After my eye injury last year, I found myself binge-reading thrillers and mysteries. Some of the crimes in those books were extremely dark and disturbing, and, at the time, my husband questioned the wisdom of immersing myself in such horrifying stories.

But I knew that no matter how bleak things looked, the hero was going to be strong enough. They would be resilient. They would survive. They would defeat the bad guy.

There would be justice — and I desperately needed to believe in a world where there could be justice.

(No, I have still not gotten justice. And so I continue to read mysteries and thrillers.)

The other reason I'm thinking about the function of story in society is because of the way certain stories are currently being weaponized politically in the United States. I'm mystified as to why some people continue to cling to stories that are provably false — and incredibly harmful to their own communities.

(That's as political as I'm getting in this post, don't worry.)

I think it’s for the same reason any of us seek out a fiction book to take us on an adventure, fall in love, or experience justice.

In the same way we're drawn to genres that resonate with the questions we most deeply need to explore, we seek out stories that make us feel the way we want to feel.

Stories that confirm what we want to believe is true about the world.

Present five different people with the same story, and you'll hear five different perspectives. The adventurer will pick up on the places they want to visit and explore. The optimist will pick up on the silver linings and hope. The pessimist will pick up on everything that's going wrong. The engineer will pick up on the systems and details. The intuitive will pick up on the interpersonal dynamics.

The problem arises when we're not self-aware enough to understand that the facet of story we're experiencing is just that — a facet.

If we're not self-aware enough to examine our biases, every story we hear that confirms those biases becomes "true" and anything that challenges them becomes "false."

Which is why fearful people naturally seek out — and cling to — stories that confirm they're justified in being afraid.

One of the reasons I value science fiction (and this community of readers in particular), is that sci-fi is all about exploring our differences and teaching ourselves to empathize with people (or aliens, or robots, or whoever) who are extremely different from us.

Truby writes that science fiction, of all the genres, is most concerned with the individual in society. What is our role? What impact does living in society have on our composition as an individual? What can we learn from futuristic thought experiments in order to shape the society we live in today?

He writes: "Science Fiction [...] is not really about predicting the future. Science Fiction is concerned with how to create society, and in particular, how to create a better society."

Sci-fi readers, in my experience, don’t turn to science fiction to confirm our biases. We turn to it because it challenges our biases and helps us grow.

We read sci-fi because we're naturally curious people. We want stories that challenge our established notions of how the world works. We want to explore different possible futures, in order to learn how to best navigate our present day.

It's why, if you've ever been to a sci-fi convention, you'll a fantastic number of whip-smart elders who have used challenging stories to keep their brains malleable and plastic well into their later years.

It's a beautiful thing.

And it's all due to the power of story.

Thanks for continuing to explore with me, friends. I value your part in this journey we call life.

For your TBR

And, if you'll indulge me an awkward transition from philosophy to marketing...

...speaking of exploring, there are hundreds of worlds available in the SFF Book Blast this weekend!

Through September 22, choose from 300+ free SF and Fantasy books — including one by yours truly.

Happy reading!

Oh, and try to pick something that challenges your view of how the world works, yeah? ;)

Gotta keep those brains sharp!

Jessie