Fantasy as “Escapist” Literature

Definition 2 of “escapist” in the Oxford English Dictionary reads:

fig. Esp., one who seeks distraction from reality or from routine activities.

Hence attrib. or as adj., that provides escape from reality or routine; pertaining to escapism.

By this definition, all popular literature, not just science fiction and fantasy, qualifies as “escapist”. Most modern literature, however, seems to fly under the radar of this term, which is now laden with pejorative connotation. Perhaps this is because your average John Grisham or Tom Clancy novel bears, on the surface at least, a high level of verisimilitude to our own world. Maybe as a self-professed geek I’m a smidge over-sensitive, but it seems that this criticism is most frequently leveled at readers of “speculative fiction”.

Again following the above definition, the accusation that fantasy qualifies as “escapist” literature fairly hits the mark. Most authors are, at some level, aiming to provide an “escape from reality and routine”. I’d argue that fantasy/sci-fi literature has philosophical and pedagogical purposes that extend far beyond pure entertainment, but that’s a discussion for another time.

Accepting that fantasy is, at least in part, escapist literature, the debate shifts to whether this is such a bad thing. While my impulse is to staunchly defend the literature I love as entirely benign and beneficial, some recent experience has led me to some slight reservations in answering this question.

A couple months ago, I joined the swelling ranks of the unemployed, as the business venture I’d been working for came to a premature end. In the weeks since, the time I’ve spent reading has tripled, at times to the detriment of my job hunt, exercise, and overall personal development. So it’s possible to see where naysayers get their ammunition against fantasy literature, comic books, video games, and other forms of geekery.

Considering the matter further, though, it becomes apparent that this perception is misleading. The problem with this argument is that it implies the medium itself, rather than the partaker, is responsible for the negative behavior–a post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy. Again returning to my own anecdote, my own bad habits, obsession, and compulsivity were my downfall. Fantasy literature was but a symptom. The same holds true for those poor souls who have let their careers, relationships, sometimes their very lives collapse while playing World of Warcraft for days on end. While the books, films, and games may play a small role, the brunt of the responsibility rests on the shoulders of the consumers.

On the other hand, the escapist element of fantasy and sci-fi, when placed in the correct context, holds myriad benefits. First, it fosters a greater sense of what is possible. Reading a fantasy novel might prompt a hiker to examine trees and rocks with a greater respect for their place in the world; reading a science fiction novel might instill in the observer of the night sky a zest for space exploration. Second, though running in parallel with the first, is that it inspires a greater range of creativity. Both these arguments apply to the escapist property of all literature, but they hold especially true for speculative fiction since its genres by definition stretch reality to a greater degree than other avenues of storytelling.

So, let’s not throw the cute little baby dragonling out with the steaming bathwater.