Have you ever heard of gaslamp fantasy? No, it's not a fancy type of street lamp. Gaslamp fantasy is a genre of fiction that combines elements of both fantasy and Victorian-era aesthetics. It's like stepping into a time machine and landing in a world where magic and corsets coexist. But what exactly is gaslamp fantasy and why should you care? Let's dive in and explore this quirky and enchanting genre!
What sets gaslamp fantasy apart from other genres?
Gaslamp fantasy is often confused with steampunk, but they're not quite the same. While both genres share a love for the Victorian era, gaslamp fantasy focuses more on the fantastical elements, like magic and mythical creatures. It's like taking a stroll through a foggy London street and stumbling upon a hidden world of wizards and fairies. Think of it as a whimsical blend of fantasy, history, and a touch of that good ol' British charm.
Where did gaslamp fantasy come from?
The term "gaslamp fantasy" was coined by author and editor Kaja Foglio in the early 2000s. It was a way to describe a specific type of fantasy that drew inspiration from the gas-lit streets of Victorian England. But the roots of gaslamp fantasy can be traced back even further, to the works of authors like Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. These pioneers of science fiction and fantasy laid the foundation for the genre we know and love today.
What makes gaslamp fantasy so appealing?
Gaslamp fantasy offers a delightful escape from reality. It transports you to a world where magic is real and anything is possible. It's a genre that celebrates imagination and invites you to explore hidden realms and encounter fantastical creatures. Plus, who can resist the allure of a dashing hero or a cunning heroine in a top hat and corset?
So, why should you give gaslamp fantasy a try?
If you're a fan of fantasy but crave something a little different, gaslamp fantasy is the perfect genre for you. It's a refreshing twist on traditional fantasy, with its unique blend of history, magic, and whimsy. Gaslamp fantasy novels often feature strong, independent protagonists who navigate a world filled with mystery and enchantment. And let's not forget the lush descriptions of Victorian fashion and architecture that will transport you to another time and place.
Discover the magic with the "Vanished Audiobook"!
Now that you're intrigued by the wonders of gaslamp fantasy, it's time to immerse yourself in a captivating story. And what better way to do that than with the "Vanished Audiobook"? This thrilling tale of magic and intrigue will transport you to a world where nothing is as it seems.
Expertly narrated by Teralyn Davis, who brings the characters and world to vivd life, "Vanished" will make you feel like you're right there on the foggy cobblestone streets of New London.
So grab your headphones and get ready to fall in love with Lady Gwen and her found family.
Narrative framing refers to the way a story treats and positions characters, events, and decisions through tone, point of view, and consequences. It is the lens through which the story is told, guiding the reader's emotional and moral responses…often without the reader realizing they are being guided at all.
Books are inherently political, and we disregard that truth at our own peril.
If that statement makes you uncomfortable, if your first reaction is to close down and protect your beloved books by saying, “I don’t read for politics, I read to escape,” you’re not alone.
Most of us read in large part for entertainment and escapism. In fact, entertainment is the door we choose to walk through every time we pick up a piece of fiction.
But if it is the only reason, if you are willing to disregard everything else a book does in favor of entertainment, you are in greater danger than you realize.
Let me explain why.
Books are Political
Every book ever written has been informed by the worldview of the author. And that worldview has, in turn, been shaped by the political climate in which they live. For that to make sense, let’s define politics in a broad sense.
Politics: the process and systems by which societies structure power and distribute resources.
Those political systems govern who gets to learn to read, who gets to write what books, what themes they can write about, which books get published, by whom, and who can access those books.
Unfortunately, the first priority of the power structures we live within isn’t to ensure the art that reaches the public represents the varied truth of human experience; it is to protect itself. It recognizes the power of fiction to shape worldviews, create empathy, and incite change. It recognizes that art and culture shape and create one another, so it will always default to prioritizing books and stories that uphold and protect the ruling class by centering their identity as normal or neutral, and suppress or destroy narratives that challenge it.
If anyone should inherently understand the political power of books to incite change, create empathy, and spread knowledge, it should be authors and readers. So to see so many of them denigrate or entirely ignore that power in favor of guiltless entertainment is disheartening in the extreme, not only because of what it says about how they view books but because of what it says about how they view their fellow humans.
Books as Entertainment Only
You may say, “I read to escape my life. I just want to be entertained, not write a book report.” And you wouldn’t be entirely wrong. So, let's look at what happens when we read “brain off” for entertainment only without acknowledging the inherently political nature of books.
As I’ve already pointed out, reading for entertainment is important. As Ursula K. LeGuin said of fantasy in her essay The Language of the Night, “Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisoned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape? The moneylenders, the know-nothings, the authoritarians have us all in prison; if we value the freedom of the mind and soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it's our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can.”
It is both natural and healthy to escape into a fictional narrative to restore hope and give ourselves a much-needed break from our daily struggles. But that isn’t where the story ends. Far from it, in fact. LeGuin wasn’t encouraging escapism from responsibility or engagement, but escapism into the freedom of mind and soul to imagine new worlds and reclaim what our world could be.
She doesn’t encourage mindless consumption of stories but excoriates the political oppression that causes us to need escapism in the first place. She recognizes that escapism and active engagement exist side-by-side.
When we consume mindlessly, without recognizing the power inherent in stories and the deeply political nature of them, we are fed on a diet we did not actively choose. We are forced to eat what those in political power choose for us, merely for the hedonistic pleasure of it, without a thought for how the nutrition will affect our bodies in the long run.
We become mindless consumers who unconsciously support and uphold those currently in power while ignoring those marginalized by the same power. This act is especially insidious because the stories we are fed are comforting. They represent us and how we hope to see ourselves. Because of that, we will then protect our right to access them and to resist change.
In essence, this makes us agents of the system who are never forced to confront the fact that the system actively hurts, disenfranchises, exploits, and erases our fellow human beings to perpetuate itself.
Why It’s Important
When we read, even when we aren’t actively aware of it, we consume thoughts and ideas that shape our worldview. Being cognizant of that fact allows us to engage with the work more deeply and to interrogate what it means and how/whether we want it to affect us. It lets us enjoy the entertainment and escapism of books while also understanding how they affect us and the world we live in.
But refusing to acknowledge the inherently political aspect of books is damaging because it makes us mindless consumers who will open our mouths for anything. It strips books of their power to inform and create change. It accepts the status quo as normal and neutral, which abandons the people whose identities have not been protected, who have not been represented but have actively been suppressed, attacked, or undermined.
When you say “books are only political if you want them to be,” what you’re really saying is “I have the privilege of not having to think about the implications of the work I am consuming, and I don’t really care to know how it negatively affects those without the privilege.”
To be human is to be in community—to care about those who stand next to us, because the welfare of one affects the welfare of all. And anything that asks us to empathize with one another, to understand those who do not look like us, to question systems of power and privilege—that is not a distraction from fiction’s purpose. It is the purpose.
Books can delight and distract. But they also illuminate, challenge, and liberate. When we understand their power, we don’t have to give up escapism—we get to choose our escapes with open eyes. And maybe find the courage to bring some of those imagined freedoms back with us when we return to the real world.
Without prose, there is no story. Only ideas in a writers head. How a story is told can elevate or debase it, can make the characters clearer or more opaque, can communicate themes and emotions that leave tears on cheeks or create sighs of unfulfilled frustration.