Here is one of my posts from my Tough Guide to Clichés series! Because we can never have enough fuzzies…
I’ve really been enjoying my month in Diana Wynne Jones’ Tough Guide to Fantasyland and all of the marvelous clichés that she has brought to my attention. What I think I have learned while writing these (and perhaps, you have, by reading them) is that while there are always cliché ways to present your world and characters, there also just as many ways to avoid or even to utilize those clichés to make our fantasylands better. An awareness of the stereotypes gives us greater power over our worlds.
And what megalomaniacal, world-building author does not want greater power?
So we’ve covered names, colour-coding, and villains thus far. I want to touch on something a little smaller, a detail that might not even come into consideration when we are writing. But when you think about it, it is a little strange.
The question that Jones presents in one of her entries is this: Where are all the fuzzies?
Specifically, how do animals figure into your storytelling?
First, let’s see what Diana Wynne Jones has to say:
Animals. See Enemy Spies, Food, and Transport. Apart from creatures expressly designed for one of these three purpose, there appear to be almost no animals in Fantasyland. Any other animals you meet will be the result either of Wizard’s Breeding Programme or of Shapeshifting. You may on the other hand hear things, such as roaring, trampling, and frequently the hooting of owls, but these are strongly suspected to be sound effects only, laid on by the Management when it feels the need for a little local colour.
Domestic Animals are as rare as wild Animals. In most cases their existence can be proved only by deduction. Thus, sheep must exist, because people wear wool, and so must cattle, as there is usually cheese to eat. Cats are seen in company with Witches and Crones, often in large numbers, but seldom elsewhere, and there have been sightings also of solitary pigs; possibly in Fantasyland cats are herd animals whereas pigs are not. Goats are seen oftener (and may even provide the cheese) and dogs are frequent but often rather feral – the arrival of a Tour party at a Village is usually greeted by barking dogs. Dogs are also kept in numbers by Kings and nobles, where their job is to be scavengers: you throw bones on the floor and the dogs fight for them. These hounds cannot be kept for hunting (except perhaps for hunting men and Mutant Nasties), as there are no Animals to hunt.
The thoughtful Tourist might like to pause here and consider, since Animals are so rare, what exactly the meat is that the Management puts in its Stew.
Now, then, let’s talk about the animals. When I read this, I remember feeling a very twingy sense of concern because my fantasy serial The Holder Wars has fallen prey to exactly this description of animals. There are horses for “Transportation” and then there are plenty of shapeshifters. But my land has been peculiarly lacking in pretty much anything else.
But here’s the conundrum: We want to create a world that is realistic and immersive and natural. On the other hand, we want to tell a story and relate action and dialogue and characterization. This means we do have to make some choices about what is important to describe and what isn’t. If I were to write a chase scene through the woods, I wouldn’t stop the narrative for a moment to point out some bluebirds nesting in one of the trees my characters is frantically riding past. I don’t need to tell the reader everything on Old MacDonald’s farm when my character passes by or stops in, do I? We do need to have boundaries, and in many ways, it does make sense to only bring up things like animals when they are actually integral in some way to the plot. Otherwise, the book becomes a ponderous tome of details.
And fuzzies just aren’t worth it.
So what do we do with animals? Of course, we continue to use them in our stories in various ways, whether it is the usual horse transportation or as game to be shot or as magical changelings. Otherwise, I think we would do well to be aware of any significant gap in our description, such as of a forest or farmland, and where we might add some animals.
It might do us some good to read what Jones has to say about horses as well:
Horses are a breed unique to Fantasyland. They are capable of galloping full-tilt all day without a rest. Sometimes they do not require food or water. They never cast shoes, go lame, or put their hooves down holes, except when Management deems it necessary, as when the forces of the Dark Lord are only half an hour behind. They never otherwise stumble … But for some reason you cannot hold a conversation while riding them. If you want to say anything to another Tourist (or vice versa), both of you will have to rein to a stop and stand staring out over a Valley while you talk. Apart from this inexplicable quirk, Horses can be used just like bicycles, and usually are. Much research into how these exemplary animals come to exist has resulted in the following: no mare ever comes into season on the Tour and no Stallion ever shows an interest in a mare; and few Horses are described as geldings. It therefore seems probably that they breed by pollination. This theory seems to account for everything, since it is clear that the creatures do behave more like vegetables than mammals.
The same issues apply with horses, I think, when it comes to description in stories. If we were to be completely and utterly realistic, we would also be completely and utterly boring. However, I do like Jones’ point about horses needing rest and the issue of stallions, mares, and geldings. These are small practicalities that might be worth bringing into consideration.
Unless, of course, your horses do in fact breed by means of pollination, which is another matter entirely. And I would like to read that story.
So, what are your thoughts on fuzzies in fantasyland? Do you think that novels tend to dismiss them too easily or do you think that it is generally a matter of space and practicality? Do fuzzies matter to you?