I, Human, not I, Robot

Looking over my bookshelves, I had a bit of a revelation: there are very few books that really use robots as characters in them. Taking a look, I only see Isaac Asimov's I, Robot and several additional collections of short stories, a collection of Ray Bradbury stories that contains 'There Will Come Soft Rains', a couple of Iain M. Bank's Culture novels, Arthur C. Clarke's novel 2001: A Space Odyssey, Ekaterina Sedia's Alchemy of Stone and maybe a couple of others that I passed over. An additional trio of books: Ambassadors from Earth, Edison's Eve and Wired For War all represent a significant figure when it comes to real - life robotic systems and theory. However, looking over the movies that I have on my shelves, robotic characters readily come to mind: C-3P0 and R2-D2 from Star Wars, The Terminator from that franchise, Robbie from Forbidden Planet, the replicants from Blade Runner, Ash from Alien, Andrew from Bicentennial Man, Sonny from I, Robot, and so forth.

I have to wonder about this: there is a large gap in recognizable characters between the two mediums, film and literature. Film seems to contain far more in the way of robots, androids and mechs that come to mind, while I have a difficult time remembering the names of some of the characters from some of my absolute favorite science fiction books.

The first element in which film readily becomes the better medium is its visual nature, allowing for elaborate costumes, props and CGI'ed components of metal and plastics that make up what audiences really think about with robotic characters. Some of the most dramatic imagery from science fiction cinema includes robots: C-3P0 and R2 in the hallway of the Tanative IV, The Terminator coming out of the flames, Ash getting his head bashed in, and so forth. Simply put, robotics are more visual, allow for some differences between living characters and their mechanical servants.

The use of the term 'Robot' goes back to 1923 (1) with Karel Čapek's play, Rossum's Universal Robots, and according to genre historian Adam Roberts, came at a certain time of anti-machinery sentiment with science fiction at the time, with other books, such as with Aldous Huxley's Brave New World and Olaf Stapledon's The Last and First Men look to the use of mechanical and scientific processes and as a result, a population that overly depends upon them as something wholly against nature and counter-productive to humanity as a whole: societies are generally dystopic and dehumanize their inhabitants. This somewhat fits with some modern science fiction films, such as the far futures of The Terminator and The Matrix, and even with Wall*E, where an overreliance of machines results in our destruction, or at least an enormous disruption of society. (2) Indeed, Robot comes from the Czech term robota, which translates to servitude.(3)

Indeed, it should come as no surprise that early views towards robotics weren't necessarily looked at in any sort of favorable light: throughout history, a constant struggle between leaders and those being led has come about, and one lesson that a history teacher (Mr. David Munford, thank you), imparted was the destruction of clocks and machines during one early worker uprising. The use of factories in particular lends itself well to machinery and associated dystopia images and themes. Henry Ford put to good use the assembly line, which relegated skilled labor to fastening single bolts day in and day out. It is particularly ironic that those human workers were in turn replaced by robots who do the same roles for them.

In literature, then, the use of robotics goes far beyond characters, but is typically used as part of a larger theme that a novel is trying to push across to the reader. The Three Laws of Robotics that are central to Isaac Asimov's robot books are particularly conscious of this fact, and represents some level of paranoia on the part of the human race that at some points, robots will eventually take over humanity because of their inherent strengths over human flesh: stronger, faster, smarter, etc. This makes Asimov’s novels somewhat different from the earlier books with mechanical imagery linked to dystopia: Asimov’s world shows where a fall of society has not occurred because of the indulgences by humans, but generally only because the robots that we’ve essentially created in our own image are just as screwed up as we are. Dystopia, in this case, may be in Asimov’s futures – we certainly see that in his Foundation stories – but for the time being, he views a world with robotics as one where robotics act as a natural counterpart for humanity, rather than a replacement, although the threat, held in place by his three laws, is still there.

In films, however, different elements are brought out: robots are the servants of humanity & associated sentient life in Star Wars, performing vital and specialized tasks while interfacing with their creators. The same goes for the robots in Blade Runner and Wall*E. At other points, they're used for war, such as in Ron Moore's Battlestar Galactica, where they then turn on their human creators for a variety of reasons, or under the control of a vast, superhuman intellect, such as in the Terminator franchise. Here, these elements often, but not always, hearken back to a sort of dystopia, where robotics are part of a larger problem: it represents the failure of the human race to continue with its biological need to reproduce, and demonstrates some basic elements of life itself: Darwinism or survival of the fittest. Those that cannot keep up, will be destroyed, or at least overcome.

Within literature, the larger themes of dystopia and robotics are used, with the protagonist generally someone who overcomes the system/society/social norm to relearn what it means to be human, and there is a larger theme of the scientific, mechanical, logical order, represented by robotics, and a more organic, theological, chaos, represented by people. At points, this is represented with some very pointed examples: Ray Bradbury’s ‘There Will Come Soft Rains’, which shows a robotic house living diligently on long after its inhabitants have destroyed themselves. However, the reason that robots themselves seem to be fewer and farther between is because there is an inherent need for this dystopia theme to be present in the film: it represents the weakness of humanity, carries with it religious overtones and two extremely different styles of thinking all wrapped up into a single character, which oftentimes, seems to be difficult to work in or really justify as a regular character in a book that takes just part of the story, especially if they are not the central part of a story. Their existence represents so much in relation to their human counterparts, it would seem almost a waste to have a story with a side character as a robotic entity, rather than fleshing out everything that he/she/it represents.

With movies, these themes are there occasionally, but generally, explosions and violence comes first and foremost in the eyes of paying audience members.

1 - Jeff Prucher, Editor. Brave New Worlds: The Oxford Dictionary of Science Fiction. Oxford University Press, 2007, 164 2 - Adam Roberts. The History of Science Fiction. Palgrave Press, 2005, 159 3 - Ibid, 168

The Temptation of Taste

The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. And the Lord God commanded the man, "You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil, for when you eat it, you will surely die." (Genesis 2:15)

So it is said in the Bible, a basic story element: the temptation of mankind and the resulting expulsion from the Garden of Eden. From this point, this element and the imagry of food as a means of temptation has been used in a number of subsequent works, especially within the speculative fiction realm. With this imagery, there is the theme of utopia as something to be gained or lost with the consumption of the food, and is either an element that the protagonist is tempted away from, or something that proves to be an obstacle in the pursuit of utopia.

According to Brave New Worlds: The Oxford Dictionary of Science Fiction, the notion of 'Utopia' comes from Sir Thomas More, although as the Bible demonstrates, it is a concept that certainly predates More's musings on the subject. The Greeks, through their epic story the Odyssey, used the imagery in a couple of instances as Odysseus travelled home from Troy: The encounter with the Lotus Eaters, where three of Odysseus's men ate the Lotus, became addicted and thought nothing of returning home, but their later encounter with Circe on the island of Aeaea is one in which these themes really come out:

"They called her and she came down, unfastened the door, and bade them enter. They, thinking no evil, followed her, all except Eurylochus, who suspected mischief and staid outside. When she had got them into her house, she set them upon benches and seats and mixed them in a mess with cheese, honey, meal and Pramnian wine, but she drugged it with wicked poisons to make them forget their homes, and when they had drunk she turned them into pigs by a stroke of her wand, and shut them up in her pig styes."

In these instances, the men who came under the various substances and spells found that they were pulled away from their journey - the temptation theme at its best, and introduces the idea of going home as a form of Utopia for those far away. Certainly, the soldiers who fought at Troy for ten years would liken their homes to something special, perfect, as a means to get them through the conflict. This would be for a couple of reasons: they were fighting a battle on the part of their home nation, something worth protecting and dying for, and had plenty of motives to return. This makes the theme of their temptation even more important in the larger view of the storyline: they have an incredible amount to lose in their return, and their failure to adhere to their goal demonstrates their weakness in character and desire to return home, intentional or not. Like in the Bible, there is a central moral to the story that the righteous and those who have strong moral fiber will see their goal to the end - the adventures of Odysseus' crew, and later, Adam and Eve, demonstrate this to a fine point.

While Ancient stories have certainly used this element numerous times, a number of modern stories also take on similar imagery, with similar morals. The Grimms Fairy Tales include a story that is no doubt familiar to many: Hansel and Gretel, which sees the two children abandoned to die in the middle of the forest by their evil stepmother. As they attempt to find their way home, they come across a white bird, which delights them and leads them to a house made of bread and sugar. Overcome with hunger, they eat at the house and are invited in by the old woman who lives there, who intends to snare and eat them. Gretel tricks the witch into the oven in her place and escapes home. Once again, the perils of moving away from one's goals, in this instance, being tempted by food while attempting to return home, is used, although in this instance, it is children who are swayed, rather than men.

Coraline is another story that comes to mind, when looking at more recent works. Neil Gaiman's tale sees the young girl Coraline Jones in an unhappy existence with her parents, and upon her discovery of an alternate world, she is enticed with the idea of a better set of alternative parents, who feed her (which brings to mind this imagery of a table full of food being a vehicle for temptation) and show her a life that is very different, but odd. Over the course of the story, Coraline realizes that this existence and its inhabitants have their own motives, and not motives that will benefit her, and the main character struggle is in her fight to return her parents and herself to their proper existence. This is the main part of the appeal of the story, where Coraline must not only determine her true place, but also the value of home. Where other stories have take the notion of home as a set utopian value, Coraline must first determine what her utopia is: home, for all of its flaws, is the place where she is truly loved, and where she belongs.

Similar themes are brought up in Pan's Labyrinth, where the image of a feast tempts away Olivia after she begins her own journey after meeting the Faun in the Labyrinth behind the Spanish outpost. At this point in the story, she has already completed one of the tasks set before her - recovering the key, in her journey towards returning to her mythic home, where she is supposed to be a long lost princess, on a quest to return to her home. When she brings the key to the lair of the Pale Man to retrieve the knife, and overcome with hunger, she eats from the table, and is chased out by the Pale Man, who has eaten other children before her. Once again, the theme of temptation swaying the traveler is brought along, and it harkens back a bit to the Adam and Eve story, where the girl is tempted away (as in Coraline as well) from the true path by a distraction, in this instance, a meal.

On the science fiction side of the house, Paolo Bacigalupi's novel The Windup Girl features in some similar ideas, if on a much greater scale than just the character's actions, but figures far more into the background story in the world that Bachagalupi presents. Agricultural firms have wrecked the world through their actions, attempting to turn their food into a better product, and unwittingly unleash plagues into the world, causing economic collapse and famine across the world. In the pursuit of a Utopia, they have created the opposite, a dystopia-style world where they have strayed from an arguably more righteous path: the preservation of the species.

In all instances, the idea of food is used to sway the protagonist or other characters from their own personal utopias, whether that's their home or the creation of a perfect world, where they are loved, which in and of itself reveals a couple of things: the definition of a Utopia isn't necessarily a paradise that is populated by their desires, but by a single concept: love, either the love of one's parents or one's subjects/compatriots, for their simple existence. In Coraline, Olivia and Hansel/Gretel's case, it's the love of their parents, in Odysseus's, it's his family, and in the instance of the corporations in the Windup Girl, it's the people that they feed.

Their quest for a personal utopia demonstrates that a utopia is something that can be revoked, as Adam and Eve both found, but that one of the basic motivations for one's existence is to seek such a concept - God's placement of a flaming sword at the entrance of Eden demonstrates the struggle to achieve such a goal - otherwise, it stands to reason that the Garden could simply be taken from existence, where the temptation and goal would be gone forever, and thus, become nothing to seek. God did not do this, but he left the Garden in place. Food seems to be the constant in most of these stories (and I'm sure that there's numerous other examples - these were the ones that were immediately familiar to me), because it is, in itself, a symbolic measure - food is something that sustains, but something that rots with time, and is, in effect, a temporary joy when compared to the character's ultimate goal. In all instances, the characters are temped because of their circumstances, where they are desperate to continue onwards. In a way, the scales are tipped against the characters.

When looking at a number of these stories, it's generally the woman who instigates this sort of fall, most likely as a reference to the biblical story - the Greeks had no issue with the men instigating their own downfall, while Gretel was the one who saved her brother. Coraline and Olivia had their own weaknesses and thus were hampered by them, as well as Eve, way back when. There are arguments along this line that this is sexist in all different ways, and while yes, it certainly is when you look at it in one way, but it can also be looked at as opportunity, where the women overcome their newfound trouble and emerge victorious - Coraline recovers her hapless parents, and Olivia ends up in her mythic home (of course, she dies in the process). If anything, the men of these stories come out pretty poorly, and aren't the ones that the story is about - this proves to be an excellent change for strong female protagonists in a story.

This leads to another aspect of this argument, which was the existence of the Tree of Knowledge in the first place, as a sort of test for the characters on their journey. In each case, the characters fail this test, and their quest towards Utopia is jeopardized: Odysseus's soldiers are almost foiled from their return home (although they are killed off in other ways), various children are almost eaten, and so forth. Yet, in their failure, they find new opportunity to prove their character and better themselves by learning from their mistakes and regaining their morals to reach home. Where they fail in each case, this too happens in almost each case.

This impacts story in huge ways - it provides motivation for characters in ways that translate into real life, and provides a way for characters to grow and change with the issues that they face along their respective paths in life. In a number of ways, this specific imagery is used to hearken back to the bible, because it's very basic imagery. The character is hungry, but shouldn't stop - that is certainly something that's fairly easy to relate to, and works for all the reasons outlined above.

The obvious answer to all of this is that it's a moral story presented for the characters as a means to teach a simple and complex lesson to the reader: temptation can often lead to problems for the protagonist, and that their weakness in character must be compensated for by continued hardship and peril in their journey towards their utopia.

Balancing Act

As I finish up my final seminar of class work with Norwich University's Military History program, I have begun to mentally shift gears towards the subject matter of my final paper, where I'm going to be examining the role in which warfare helped to influence the comic book industry around the time of the Second World War, a subject that has long fascinated me. While looking around for materials, I have been thinking a lot about comic books and their subject matter in a more abstract sense - the dual role of the hero and villain in society, and as such, I believe that comic books tell some of the most elemental stories, which helps, I think, to account for their appeal to a wide range of readers around the world.

There is a basic appeal to superheroes - the abilities especially - when I was a young child in Elementary School, I idolized the X-Men, because I loved what they were able to do, whether it was super strength, claws, flight, plasma beams, and so forth, and much of the deeper meanings behind some of the stories were lost on me until much later. The central meaning behind each story, I think, is of the hero, whom we are meant to emulate, but what I have come to be more interested in lately is the complicated nature of the hero and villain, and how one is inseparable from the other.

This thinking comes at an interesting time. Over the past couple of months, I have been reading about a rise in costumed vigilantism across the United States, dedicated civilians who are attempting to right wrongs that they come across. These individuals, most likely heavily influenced by repeated viewings of the recent Batman films and other comic book fare, take to the streets, their faces covered, to take on crime. I have to admit, I see the appeal in this sort of thing, and I've often wondered, if I was in somewhat better shape, how I would go about this sort of thing. Fortunately, Vermont is not awash in crime, overrun by gangs and drugs, so my services will likely remain dormant for now.

Interestingly, and unsurprisingly, the rise of this fad seems to prove a point about the existence of heroes - with their rise come their counterpart, the villain. Utilizing YouTube and Craigslist, an anti-heroes group, R.O.A.C.H., has formed, offering a ten dollar bounty for the identity of one of the heroes operating out of Ohio.

With a hero, or a force for authoritative good, there must be an equal, counterpart entity that represents the opposite side of the coin. The recent installment in the Batman franchise is possibly one of the best examples of this, which helped to make the film stand out - hanging upside down by his feet, Heath Ledger's Joker cackled at Batman:

"You won't kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I won't kill you because you're just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever."

Essentially, the point that the Joker makes in the film is that where Batman is the force for a form of justice and order, he exists as a sort of counterpart, a ying and yang sort of effect. The same idea is applied to the character of Harvey Dent, who epitomizes the theme of duality.

DC comics see this sort of theme between heroes as well, especially when one considers the personalities of Batman and Superman. While both are arguably forces for good, they represent two very different thought processes. Batman is a vigilante, whereas Superman seems to adhere to a far more strict ethical code. Essentially, one represents chaos and righteousness - the damaged man who has no powers to speak of - and the other represents law and order - the man who is invulnerable, godlike. While we are on the subject of Superman, we once again turn to the iconic villains, and Lex Luthor is arguably one of the main counterparts in his life. Where Superman often relies on feats of strength, righting wrongs in a purely physical manner, Luthor is much the opposite - he has no powers, but is able to counter Superman through his intellect alone. Here, major themes such as obedience and curiosity come against one another, and the realm of comic books are opened to a far greater realm.

Duality is an enduring human condition, one that is completely ingrained with much of our belief system, especially the Holy Bible. I do admit, I'm not wholly familiar with the book, but there is one story that has particularly stuck with me, and that is the role between good and evil, of God and his angel, Lucifer. Lucifer was struck down to Hell because he went against God, against authority, and by all accounts, good. In a way, I have always seen this as a larger theme, where good is associated with an adherence to authority, of obedience to law, where evil is often associated with everything that is the opposite - of stepping out of the lines, to question. I don't necessarily believe that there is any sort of natural right and wrong in nature, but I see these two elements - obedience vs. disobedience, predetermination vs. free will, black and white vs. shades of grey, as a permanent quandary that cannot, and will not ever be decided by any number of philosophers. As the Joker proves, one cannot exist without the other. As I learned in an ethics class in high school, one cannot know good without knowledge of evil.

This is a strong theme throughout the history of science fiction, from Isaac Asimov's Foundation trilogy to Michael J. Straczynski's Babylon 5, both stories that contained this as a dominant part of its mythos. Within Foundation, there was the effort to save society, where the Mule sought to undermine all that. MJS's Babylon 5 looked to the duel nature between the Shadows and the Vorlons as the same arguments between good and bad, dark and light, order vs. chaos, as the two extremes of reality. But these are extremes to each side of the coin, as society is eager to jump to, it would seem. One of my favorite television shows, Life On Mars, demonstrates much of the same storytelling qualities, with Gene Hunt and Sam Tyler being much the polar opposites of one another, which is why their partnership works so well for the story. (The UK version, at least. The US version employed this to a far more limited extent.)

If one looks to any sort of politics in the world today, you will see that there is a division between left and right politics, because of the seating positions of an older government. In the United States, these divisions fall much along the same lines - the right is often a force for order, for adherence to principles, often along with religious support and faith, where the left is often represented by scientific reasoning and knowledge. Strictly speaking, this is a broad generalization, but you get my point.

One of my favorite short videos that I've come across recently is 'Nemisis' a Norwegian (I think) short film that demonstrates this split nature between a hero and a villain. The protagonist, Arne, desires to be a hero, but alone, by himself, he is unable to become one without the antagonist, the Nemesis, as they find towards the end of the short film. Like many other stories, the heroes are often defined by what they are not, and oftentimes, villains are placed into the story with just these qualities, which will often boil down to these two extremes.

This, I think, is why the comic books, and their stories, are so enduring in society, much like the Bible has remained for the thousands of years that Christianity has been around. The duel nature of good and bad, right and left, heads or tails, is a fundamental part of how we see the world, and the comic book format tells these stories in one of the most fundamental methods, a hero that represents one side, where the villain, who is just over the top enough to match the hero in this instance, represents the other.

There is one movie that I can think of that does this in an even better fashion than the Dark Knight, in the same sort of genre, Unbreakable. The dominant theme here is once again, that of duality, and it incorporates the long history of comic books into this story, with the two characters as polar opposites. Where one was strong, the other was weak, and so on. One carried out crimes, where the other one sought to prevent them, a never-ending loop, a sort of natural balancing act that will continue to be examined, not only through the political, philosophical and religious realms, but also through that of the brightly colored panels of a comic book.

I highly doubt that I will explore this sort of thing in my capstone paper, but there are elements of the Second World War that certainly applies, with the absolute evil that is represented by the Nazis that took over Europe, countered by the just cause of the Allied forces that took it back. I think that this balance is best represented by the introduction of Captain America in the late 1930s, with a dramatic punch to Hitler’s jaw on the cover of a comic book. In a way, without a presence such as Hitler, the very heroes that inspire and motivate us would have no reason to exist. Much is the same in today’s society with a group of costumed heroes. Without crime, they would have no reason to exist, however amusing their methods are. Heroes will always be balanced by a villain who represents everything that they are not, for good or for bad.

What is Science Fiction?

The Guardian Newspaper posted up an article about the label of Science Fiction when it comes to regular literature. Science Fiction as a broad genre has a number of connotations and images associated with it, for sure, but what exactly is the definition of the grouping?

According to Isaac Asimov, one of the greatest science fiction writers to ever live, Science Fiction is: Modern science fiction is the only form of literature that consistently considers the nature of the changes that face us, the possible consequences, and the possible solutions. (There are some other fantastic takes on this here.)

Over the past couple of years, as I have gotten more interested in the history and study of the genre, I'm leaning more towards an anti-genre sort of bias. I am a fan of the genre, and of the elements that commonly make it up - space ships, time travel, aliens, etc. What I find interesting though, is at how horror, science fiction and fantasy genres are generally grouped together, and how fans from one genre tend to be interested in the others.

According to the Guardian article, there are several authors whose books tend to fall under the SF/F genre heading, but aren't generally considered part of the genre, either by the publisher or the author. For example, the following paragraph raises some eyebrows:

"The Gone-Away World by Nick Harkaway has just had its paperback release, and is a tour-de-force of ninjas, truckers, Dr Strangelove-type military men, awe-inspiring imagery and very clever writing. It's also undeniably science fiction. Harkaway is an unrepentant fan of the genre, but his publishers William Heinemann have taken a lot of care not to market the book as such. Harkaway himself said in a recent interview: "I suppose the book does take place in the future, but not the ray-guns-and-silver-suits future. It's more like tomorrow if today was a really, really bad day.""

The last sentence is revealing one: "It's more like tomorrow, if today was a really, really bad day." Off the top of my head, I can list of a number of science fiction novels and films (Halting State, Children of Men, Wess'Har series, Firefly, etc), where this fits the description perfectly. Science fiction, in my opinion, is little different than most regular fiction, while just taking on a fantastic premise.

Margaret Atwood is somewhat misguided when she states: "Science fiction is rockets, chemicals and talking squids in outer space."

Science fiction is not just about rockets, chemicals and talking squids in outer space, although these can certainly be elements, but it is not the individual elements that really make up the core of a science fiction story. The core premise is the story. The best science fiction stories, the ones that hold up, are the ones that explore the human condition - not unlike most "literature". However, these elements do help to define the genre, and, if present in a story, help to define the novel. Stories with things like this are invariably labeled SF/F. It doesn't necessarily matter what the point of the book is.

Matthew Stover posted an interesting view up on a message board a couple months back:

"Literature is narrative fiction in which the author's intent is to express his individual vision of a fundamental truth of existence.

[Feel free to substitute other pronouns. I say "his" because, y'know, I'm a guy.]

The label of capital-L "Literature" is not a judgment of quality. It is a statement regarding the author's objectives. If the author's objective is simply (not "merely") to entertain or divert, the work in question is not Literature. It's still small-L literature (by definition), but that's not really what we're talking about. (I use the capital L to keep the distinction clear.)

And there's plenty of crummy Literature out there. It may be bad, but it's Literature nonetheless. "

At this definition, at a very broad angle, this encompasses a majority of SF/F genre stories, and separates out the ones that are essentially tie-in novels. The split is at the point where the view is either the author's, or someone else's. I'm content with this definition, because I've never seen the term Literature as something that automatically means quality. From there, everything can be broken down into the general elements that help to qualify the book. Science fictional type books tend to be grouped together with the ones that have the space ships, the aliens and things like that, but, above all, the story is such that the reader needs to be able to accept the premise, no matter what the story elements are. Battlestar Galactica and Firefly are two television shows that really did a good job at this - they took a situation, and focused on the way the characters reacted. Ron Moore has said that they didn't want to do a science fiction show, but they wanted a drama in space. It has science fiction elements, but that's not the focus.

Now, that might not be the main focus of these books that the Guardian has laid out, but they do contain science fiction elements. The article cites Jeanette Winterson with the following quote:

""People say to me, 'so is the Stone Gods science fiction?' Well, it is fiction, and it has science in it, and it is set (mostly) in the future, but the labels are meaningless. I can't see the point of labeling a book like a pre-packed supermarket meal. There are books worth reading and books not worth reading. That's all.""

I think she hit the nail on the head - essentially, it doesn't matter what the book's label is to the reader or storyteller - these labels seem to be more a thing concocted by publishers and booksellers in order to target certain audiences who might be more inclined to buy something with weird aliens and space ships as opposed to something else. That being said, even though Cormac McCarthy's The Road wasn't published or marketed as such, it's still gained quite a bit of a following in the SF/F genre crowd.

I'll always be a fan of the SF/F label though, despite the elitism and mockery that it might get - it's really the only genre that has a real geek following, and no matter the status that the genre gets from other authors and critics, it is still one of the sources, for me, of some of the best literature out there.