I’m thinking about the theory of fantasy again, and what is the purpose of fantasy. I know I have a lot of thoughts, but I realised I’ve already written about this and my influences in Blog Posts 1. and 9. so I don’t want to repeat myself! I’ve been thinking about Tolkien again because I’m currently reading The Silmarrilion, the mythology/history/world-building to The Lord of The Rings compiled postumously in 1977, and I keep being surprised by twists of good fortune in the stories. Then I remember that for Tolkien, the purpose of the “eucatastrophe” was to uplift the reader, and send them out refreshed by hope into the world. Is fantasy an inherently hopeful genre, and how does disability intersect with it?

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I was reading The Silmarrilion on the train the other day, and a man got on and immediately noticed what I was reading and started talking about it with joy. We had an enthusiastic conversation, during which I said I don’t really get why Tolkien writes about mortal men falling in love with beautiful immortal Elven women. To which he said wisely, “See I get that, because romance is fantasy! Men idealise women and in reality they are not perfect.” We didn’t talk any more, but I have been thinking about this profound statement ever since.

I’ve told this story to people who thought “romance is fantasy” is a very cynical depressing statement, but I think it all depends on how you say it, and how you view fantasy. One of the reasons I think fantasy stories are so compelling is because of the wonder they evoke. It completely depends on how the point of view character is responding to the world around them as to whether it is a horror story or not after all. The POV determines most genres actually, as what they value determines the shape of the story (at least in a well-written story, where the hand of the author isn’t obvious).  Take Susanna Clarke’s 2020 novel Piranesi, which is technically about a man trapped alone in a fantastical house, yet the way the story is written the man is very hopeful and grateful, not seeing himself as “trapped” at all. It’s all in the perspective, and well placed exclamation marks!

Maybe romance is only a good fantasy when two people are creating the story together – a cringe-worthy, sickening idea I’ll keep on the page for the irony. As someone who is not attempting romance, I feel like I can safely joke about it.

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I’ve been thinking more about the novel I want to write, Alice in Wheelchairland. I have been wondering about maybe writing a bit of a romance in it, but is that romance just a fantasy? After the deep themes I’ve written in Becoming Sweetwood, I fancy writing something more light-hearted and fun. I’m not a fan of the teen romance craze going on in the publishing industry at the moment, but I don’t want to completely crush the reader with cynicism. “Fantasy” and “romance” are completely subjective and need to be done well.

One topic I feel I can confidently talk about it accessible travel. I realised I wanted to put one form of travel I hadn’t used in the book, so organised a very fun “research trip” to experience it. Yesterday my friend and I went on the cable car over the Thames. It was a perfect day and we were higher than the tower blocks around us. The sky was blue, the water was blue, and eight minutes was over before we knew it. There’s something so freeing about being up there, looking down on the city, everything so small beneath us. Maybe that’s my kind of fantasy.

(Featured Image is “Luthien Finds Beren” by Kip Rasmussen, based on the famous romance story in The Silmarrilion)