What Should a Centre for Fantasy and the Fantastic Do?

[This is the final post dedicated to the Glasgow Symposium on Fantasy and the Fantastic. It summarises the second part of the afternoon workshop at that event (for the first part see here), which responded to the question given above, with the aim of incorporating the group’s responses into our plans for a Centre for Fantasy and the Fantastic at the University of Glasgow.  The post ends with a list of participants in the Symposium, to whom much thanks on behalf of the core Fantasy team at Glasgow: Dimitra Fimi, Rob Maslen, Matt Sangster and Rhys Williams.]

Dimitra opens the second part of the afternoon workshop

Once again the workshop divided itself into several small groups. Once again each group chose a different way to record its findings, through different coloured inks or different kinds of lists (though the mind-map technique fell out of use). This time the notes were briefer, and the bulk of the responses came in the form of single words or short phrases, which looked like headings or cues for more extended deliberation and debate. Many of the ideas in those lists were repeated several times, and of those not repeated, many could readily be subsumed under similar themes.

Among the most frequently repeated ideas was the notion of establishing a ‘good, user-friendly website’, which would enable us to share resources on an Open Access basis, as well as to advertise events and explain our purpose and history in an organized way. Such a website, someone pointed out in the discussion that followed the workshop, would necessitate a decent IT infrastructure and dedicated administrative support.  One group suggested that the website be interactive, like the website for Archaeology Scotland; and the same group urged us to make the most of our Scottish location, drawing visitors to the website into the historical and cultural web of the Scottish fantastic, and pointing up the intimate link between fantasy and the Scottish landscape. This might be best achieved, the group suggested, through one of the projects mentioned at the workshop: a Fantasy Map of Scotland, which would assign specific fantasy texts to specific locations and so transform the process of moving from place to place into an exercise in traversing fantastic history. The website could host the Fantasy Map of Scotland and any blogs, podcasts or Open Access publications we chose to maintain. It could also tie into another project mentioned by several groups: an online journal, embracing creative fiction and non-fiction as well as academic writing (though I persist in thinking of academic writing too as creative at its best). And some groups felt the website might serve as a kind of virtual library, providing visitors with free e-copies of primary texts, criticism and theory, the last two categories perhaps being embedded in an annual anthology of the year’s best essays on fantasy and the fantastic.

For two groups in particular this prospective annual anthology would embody the notion of ‘expertise’ in fantasy, of a kind that doesn’t exist in such concentrated form elsewhere. A concentration of experts, these groups suggested, would enable the Centre to ‘lead on critical conversation’, demonstrating its sensitivity to what’s happening globally by (for instance) reporting on significant conferences or shadowing the major fantasy awards. (I think here of the way Adam Roberts has for many years offered us his own idiosyncratic and often scintillating reviews of contenders for the major SF prizes in successive blogs.) All groups agreed that the Centre’s expertise should be in creative work as well as academic writing and research; and its active engagement with the creative community, some suggested, could be ensured through (for instance) curating art exhibitions, commissioning new works, setting up writer-in-residence programmes, or staging short story competitions with attractive prizes. The latter suggestion could well have been stimulated by the tremendous success of the recent competition mounted by Gavin Miller and Anna McFarlane as part of the University of Glasgow’s Science Fiction and the Medical Humanities project, which was funded by the Wellcome Trust.

Another area in which the Centre’s expertise might prove invaluable is education. Several groups suggested that we could organize visits to schools to discuss fantasy with students and teachers, taking a lead from the School of Education, whose MEd students already undertake placements at schools throughout Scotland, while several of them are simultaneously auditing Fantasy MLitt courses and participating in events. Education in technology was also mentioned as a priority; and our experts could offer themselves as mentors for creative writers as well as for scholars. The group that suggested this, however, ended on a note of caution. Mentorship, they warned, should ‘avoid didactic connotations’, concentrating on encouragement and practical support rather than prescriptive guidance. Expertise shouldn’t entail arrogance, in other words, and the proposed anthologies should clearly signal the Centre’s eagerness to learn from communities well beyond conventional academic circles: in particular the global community of fantasy fandom and the under-represented but crucial body of independent scholars.

It’s already becoming clear, I think, that all the groups saw the Centre as a means of enabling crossover activities and events, designed to draw together the academy, fantasy’s fan base and the creative and artistic communities. The idea of crossover extended itself for several groups to embrace other kinds of inclusivity and collaboration. One kind of inclusion involved literary genres. The Centre should dedicate itself, all agreed, to discussing and practising every form of fantasy: children’s and young adult, folk and fairy tales, theatre, oral storytelling, poetry, song lyrics, ballads printed and performed; and all these forms and more should be studied in all the world’s languages (translated where necessary) as well as in English. Another kind of inclusion involved academic interdisciplinarity. We should dedicate ourselves to asserting fantasy’s relevance to other disciplines, from philosophy, medicine, history and comparative literature to the sciences, theology, anthropology, geography and classical studies. We should have a focus on fantasy in multiple medias as well as on the migration of fantasy narratives and concepts from one medium to another: music, art, film, radio, plays, TV, comics and videogames; and the Centre should seek to create a space for the development of all these things in practice, not just as subjects for scholarly debate and analysis.

One group in particular saw inclusivity as a political process. This group’s first thoughts addressed the question of access. If we aim to be really inclusive, it reasoned, we need to make it possible for students to study at Glasgow whether or not they can afford the fees, wherever in the world they happen to come from. This means implementing a system of scholarships, or lowering tuition fees for deserving cases. The same group urged us to ensure that fewer straight white men ran things, in and beyond the Centre, and that fewer straight white men were represented on the syllabus; their rallying cry was ‘decolonize and diversify’. Unsurprisingly, this was also one of the groups that urged us to cultivate community engagement and activism, asking ourselves ‘how can our research into the unreal impact the real’? One means of extending our community might be to liaise with other Centres, such as the Centre for Women’s Studies at the University of York, or with good outside partners beyond the academy. Arts Emergency was mentioned, with its mission of helping young people overcome barriers to participation in higher education and the creative or cultural industries. So were the Glasgow Women’s Library, the Mitchell Library, the Scottish Storytelling Centre in Edinburgh, the Peter Pan Moat Brae Trust in Dumfries, and the Scottish Mask and Puppet Centre, directed by Malcolm Knight and located in Glasgow’s Maryhill. We should collaborate, others suggested, with major festivals, such as Aye Write!, Celtic Connections, Cymera, the Edinburgh Fringe and Scotland Loves Anime. To be fair, many such collaborations are already taking place, but having an identity as a Centre (and better still, a budget to play with) would give our participation essential visibility, and enable us to consolidate and prolong our relationship with these organizations and festivals.

A huge number of events were suggested. Someone suggested an event with food in fantasy as its theme, and I had a vision of ponies serving a vegetarian meal mostly made up of bread and honey while walking around on their hind hooves (I was thinking of The Hobbit); or a recipe book offering fantasy-loving chefs the chance to experiment with different kinds of stew (again, see the entry ‘stew’ in Diana Wynne Jones’s Tough Guide to Fantasy Land). Other events included storytelling, in schools and elsewhere, for therapeutic as well as pedagogic purposes; a story-reading and recording service, aimed at people who have trouble reading on the page; collaborating with museums and galleries (especially Glasgow’s own Hunterian Museum and Art Gallery) in putting on exhibitions of fantasy artifacts and artworks – the latter with a special focus on local artists; collaboratively developing a computer game; performances, including ballads, theatre, dance, opera, song (the AHRC-funded Modern Fairies project was mentioned as a successful model for collaboration with musicians and other artists, while an amateur theatre group of our own might bring fantasy plays to the community); monthly literary social gatherings, of the kind that already takes place in Edinburgh; a speaker series (which again we already have – though it could be better and more widely advertised, and take place on a more ambitious scale); more one-day symposiums like this one, each with a specific focus; and plentiful field trips. There was a particular preference in the case of field trips for walking, since many fantasy narratives (notably Tolkien) have walking at their heart. Dee Heddon’s ongoing series of projects on the relationship between walking and literature was mentioned, and I might also have draw attention to James Loxley’s explorations of literary walking at the University of Edinburgh. As I’ve already mentioned, several groups wanted us to establish a close connection with the landscape, which walking would serve well. The Centre should take people out of the University estate, they argued, freeing the practice and study of fantasy from the office and the classroom and connecting it with hills, buildings, woods, rivers, lochs, boglands and shorelines. The Fantasy Map of Scotland would work well in conjunction with walking; could the two be fused? Of course they could; it needs only time, imagination, hard work and a little money.

A financial motif emerged from the discussions of several groups. As well as the notion of providing scholarships or fee-waivers for needy students, it was pointed out that events always require a great deal of labour and that it’s all too easy to assume this will be freely offered by enthusiastic volunteers. One way to tackle this would be to establish paid internship programmes (as well as a squadron of ‘paid flying monkey minions’ for the Centre’s director, one group recommended). Another group said simply that the Centre should have its own ‘budget code’, though where the budget itself would come from wasn’t mentioned in the notes. In the open discussion that followed the workshop it was suggested that likely sources of funding might include sponsorship, bequests and crowdfunding. This explains the importance of the budget code; without it donations and award applications would be impossible, just as without Centre status accountability for any donations would be hard to ensure.

A budget would certainly be required for the accumulation of resources mentioned by several groups. Among these resources were books, of course – or rather, fantasy artifacts in general. A programme of strategic collecting needs to be implemented, bringing in novels, short stories, plays and theatrical recordings, films and film scripts, games, illustrations and other artworks and comics – as well as research materials of different kinds, ideally on the scale of the SF Foundation in Liverpool. Another resource mentioned several times was a dedicated physical space, including a community building or area for PGR students, a ‘children’s corner’, and a safe space or ‘sandpit’ (a real one, maybe?) in which to talk and engage in creative play. Two suggested resources I particularly appreciated were a shrine to Terry Pratchett and a monumental statue in honour of N K Jemisin, both presumably intended to function as a focus for meditation or secular worship. The chief resource, some groups insisted, would be a suitable team of fantasy specialists, and in this as in other things we’ve made a good start, with the appointments of Dimitra Fimi, Rhys Williams and Matt Sangster in the last three years.

After the end of the second workshop a discussion ensued, during which a spokesperson from each group reported on the group’s responses to the question ‘What should a Centre for Fantasy and the Fantastic do?’. Inevitably the discussion built on the groups’ conclusions, as if in response to the invitation implied by those lists of cues or headings. Some comments have been worked into my account of the groups’ annotations; but a few didn’t seem to fall into any of the categories I’ve identified, and several of these are well worth considering. It was suggested that the Centre should be outward-facing, but should have research at its heart (including the practice-based research of creative work). At the same time, however, it should cultivate enjoyment as its most crucial guiding principle (and I think this ties in with the widespread agreement among the delegates that fantasy is all about play). It should maintain contact with former Glasgow fantasy students as far as possible – in part to find out what becomes of graduates who choose to specialize in fantasy and the fantastic; what role does this concentration play in the career paths or ways of living they choose? This feeds into another suggestion, that we implement workshops aimed at career development for graduates working in the field (this is in fact something we’ve been thinking about for some time, and now that the MLitt programme has been running for almost four years we have some useful data to work with). Looking at the other end of the education process, it was pointed out that a stress on fantasy for children and young people might help to nurture new generations of scholars, writers and readers. Someone suggested we consider pooling our resources and teaching specialisms with other universities – again something we’ve been exploring; and someone else that we strengthen our support for international students, especially in Europe now that Brexit threatens to change our relationship with our European neighbours drastically. One of the best suggestions, I thought, was that we implement an award for the best work on fantasy by an independent scholar. Given the formidable contribution to both Fantasy and Science Fiction Studies of independent scholars like John Clute I can think of no field that owes more to that neglected but heroic vanguard of thinkers, and I’d love to find a way to put this award in place.

This is a highly ambitious list of desiderata; a list that smacks, some might say, of utopianism, in its original sense of a place that exists nowhere, a fantasy world which is finally impossible to bring into existence in the world we really inhabit. Each suggestion, however, came from the invited guests at the Symposium. Each was conceived in a mind or in a group of minds working together; so each already exists as a concept, and concepts (however bizarre or fanciful) have a way of transferring themselves from one medium to another, of stimulating action. One of the final contributions to the discussion was from Rhys Williams, who asked us to consider a further question on top of the ones that had structured the Symposium: how do you get involved? It’s a good question because it elicits many possible answers, most of which imply some specific action. What are the mechanics, the practical processes of involvement in building a Centre, and how do these processes differ depending on the conditions that affect each individual or group of people in the fantasy community (geography, economics, time, health and energy levels, skills, gender or sexuality, culture, socio-political point of view)? How do you get involved? One way is by taking part in this discussion, perhaps through comments on this blog post or through emails to one of its organizers (Dimitra Fimi, Matt Sangster, Rhys Williams or myself). But there will be kinds and methods of involvement none of us has yet thought of, in the Symposium or elsewhere.

We look forward to discovering them, with your help.

Terri delivers the keynote

List of Participants in the Glasgow Symposium for Fantasy and the Fantastic

Dimitra Fimi
Rob Maslen
Rhys Williams
Matt Sangster
Dahlia Porter
Noel Chidwick
Ben Colburn
Philip Tonner
Mariana Rios Maldonado
Fraser Dallachy
Cailean McBride
Francesca Tristan Barbini
Sally Gales
Geraldine Parsons
Theo Van Heijnsbergen
Juliette Irretier
Maureen Farrell
Matthew Creasy
Shelby Judge
Ben Holden
Christopher Lynch
Tony Pollard
Saeko Yazaki
Taylor Driggers
Myfanwy Rodman
Ruth Booth
Katarina O’Dette
Jen Porath
Dale Knickerbocker
Aslı Bülbül Candaş
Brian Attebery
Anna Vaninskaya
Neil Williamson
Laura Martin
Timothy Peacock
Kate Mathis
Lizanne Henderson
Dauvit Broun
Marita Arvaniti
Oliver Rendle
Elizabeth Dulemba
Alice Jenkins
Terri Windling
Hal Duncan

[All photographs of the Symposium by Olly Rendle]

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *