Brave New Words: The Oxford Dictionary of Science Fiction | |||||
edited by Jeff Prucher | |||||
Oxford University Press, 342 pages | |||||
A review by Paul Kincaid
Unfortunately, Brave New Words appears to be at least three dictionaries. There is, indeed, as advertised, a dictionary of
science fiction. This contains all those words that originated in the genre, or that were adopted and transformed by the genre,
and that have acquired a life beyond their origin. Thus words like "robot", "spaceship", "extra-terrestrial", "mad scientist",
and so forth are defined and given citations to demonstrate their usage over time. It is fascinating to note, for instance, how
quickly the word "robot"
acquired a life of its own. We all know that the word was coined by Karel Capek in his play R.U.R., which was first
translated into English by Paul Selver in 1923, yet already in June of 1923 the Times of London is quoted using the word in
a way that would suggest it expected its readers to be familiar with the term. Such discoveries are part of the delight of a
dictionary like this. Unfortunately, a dictionary based on historical principles is meant to show also how words and their
meanings evolve over time. The entry on "robot," for example, gives 11 citations for its first meaning, "an intelligent or
self-aware artificial being," ranging from Capek's original Czech
(1920) up to a quotation from Locus from 1988. Yet read these as you might, you would get no notion of the way the usage of the
word has changed over time; Capek's original was closer to what science fiction writers now tend to call a "cyborg," while
the "metal man" of popular imagination was something that came later, developing out of American science fiction of the 1930s and 40s.
The interesting thing about most of the science fiction terms contained here is how many of them have outgrown the genre. One
of the most valuable things about this dictionary is the number of citations that have been gleaned from the Times of
London and the San Francisco Chronicle, Scientific American and the New
Yorker. Perhaps unnoticed by the majority of people who use the English language, science fiction has been the
source of most of the vocabulary with which we are able to talk about the world today: "laser weapon" and "robotics"
and (computer) "virus." At the same time, that means that most of these words will appear in any current standard dictionary
also, and with essentially the same definitions and perhaps even some of the same citations as here. When, one wonders, does
a word stop being a neologism and just become a standard part of the language?
There is also the reverse process on display here. That word "virus," for example, is a perfectly common medical word that was
taken up by science fiction (the first citation here is David Gerrold's When Harlie Was One, 1972) and given a new
but analogous usage. It is one of the most common ways that science fiction writers construct their neologisms. When travel
across space was metaphorically likened to travel across the sea it became inevitable that vessels for one environment would
be given names analogous to those of the other.
"Spaceship" is the obvious example, but going on from that starting point you will also find in this dictionary "boat", "craft", "cruiser"
and "vessel." All of these are, of course, standard English words and their use in science fiction is not too dissimilar
to their use outside science fiction. It would have helped, therefore, indeed it would have made a great deal of sense, if
the standard meaning of the word was given here, at least as a derivation. Unfortunately, if you turn to the entry for "ship,"
for example, you would be given no hint that the word has ever meant anything other than "spaceship."
One thing to remember with all these words, of course, is that the only words defined here are those that have acquired some form
of common usage. A disproportionate number of words and phrases, for instance, have been taken from television
programmes -- "beam me up," "smeg" -- because they are known to a wider audience, have therefore acquired a certain popular
currency, and also their usage can be traced in novelisations and internet fan sites. But most of the neologisms used in
science fiction do not have such currency and were never intended to have it. They are words invented to suit a particular situation
in a particular novel, and the chances of other authors facing identical circumstances or indeed wanting to re-use another
author's invention, are slight. The vast majority of science fiction words, therefore, may appear in only one or two novels and
you will not find them here.
But, without caring to differentiate between them, this dictionary of science fiction words is only one of the tasks this book
has set itself. It is also a dictionary of critical terms about science fiction. Now a dictionary of science fiction words is
relatively new (there is Brian Stableford's Historical Dictionary of Science Fiction Literature, 2004, but that is not
readily available, so Jeff Prucher does more or less have the field to himself), but there have been other dictionaries of critical
terms. Gary Wolfe's Critical Terms for Science Fiction and Fantasy, 1986, is far more extensive and authoritative than
Prucher could hope to be. But what he is really doing is providing a list of the sorts of words about science fiction you
are likely to encounter in an introduction or a review. Thus you will come across "sharecropping" ("the practice of writing
fiction set in a universe created by... another") or "alternate history" ("a timeline that is different from that of our
own world... the genre of fiction set in such a time"), or "planetary romance" ("a genre of science fiction that describes
an adventure taking place on a planet's surface"). Actually I am not altogether happy with that last definition. I think the
word "romance" implies something colourful and exotic, more A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs than, say,
Arthur C. Clarke's A Fall of Moondust, though both would fall neatly under this definition. But then, critical terms
tend to be nuanced and contended, and the brief definitions and matter-of-fact usage citations included here don't allow any
hint of such interplay.
A word like "slipstream," for instance, has, since it was coined by Bruce Sterling, received no more satisfactory definition
than "science fiction" itself, and there are still lengthy arguments about whether there even is such a thing. But you will
find none of that in the definition and citations given here. And related terms, such as "interstitial," do not appear at all.
It is among the critical terms, also, that I tend to notice another minor irritant of the book, though it does crop up throughout
other types of entry. In a dictionary constructed on historical principles, as this purports to be, the citations usually show
the original usage of the word and then the way it has been used since so as to chart its evolution. Unfortunately, time and
again the earliest citations given are clearly not the earliest appearance of the word. Indeed a number of these citations
actually refer back to earlier or common usage of the term, and one is left wondering why these earlier appearances of the
word were not sought out.
There is, of course, good reason to include such critical terms in a dictionary of science fiction. The wider audience at
whom the book is clearly aimed will come across terms about science fiction just as often as they will come across the
language of science fiction itself.
But it is the third dictionary incorporated within this book that most gives me pause, for this is also a dictionary of
fannish terms. Even more than for critical terms, there is any number of fan dictionaries, and most of the citations here
actually come from such amateur publications. Fan language -- "egoboo", "neo", "thish" -- is a fascinating thing in its
own right, though a lot of the more esoteric terms have tended to drop out of regular use even in fannish circles,
except when meant ironically. But it is not a language that most people who read science fiction are likely to
encounter. Science fiction novels and science fiction criticism rarely if ever use terms like "croggle", "passifan"
or even "zine," so you are not likely to look up from a short story or book review and reach for a dictionary to find
out what such words mean. You do not need these words to understand science fiction itself, and for all that science
fiction and fandom are closely interconnected, their languages are completely separate. Only by becoming a fan are you
likely to come across fan language, so all at once a dictionary that has seemed aimed more at the general audience than
the specialist suddenly has content that can only be of interest to a narrow and special audience. It sends out confusing
messages about what this dictionary is trying to do. It is a valuable reference book, but perhaps it tells us rather
less about science fiction than we might have anticipated.
Paul Kincaid is the recipient of the SFRA's Thomas D. Clareson Award for Distinguished Service for 2006. He is the co-editor of The Arthur C. Clarke Award: A Critical Anthology. |
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