Works Of Fiction Are Languages - The Bigger The Better!
Fictions are languages.
There is the vocabulary of places and characters to memorize, the grammar of how they fit together correctly, and the emergent beauty of derivative works, whether fanfiction, popular slang, or poetry.
However, languages are first and foremost a way of connecting with other people. The more people speak a language, the more useful it is to know.
Similarly, the more popular a work of fiction is, the more fans there are to connect with. While both fiction and language can be enjoyable for their own sake, any tool that deepens our connection to fellow man is more worthy than a toy used solely for individual pleasure.
As much as I enjoy niche works of fiction, they lack the power to connect that pop culture behemoths possess.
Niche fiction creates a fictional world for a few, while pop fiction shares a universe with many. As many fans dissect and add to the universe, it becomes better developed than any fiction with a sole author. The world becomes deepened and shared, and the fiction becomes a medium for connection rather than a chance for escapism.
Popular Fiction is Shared Among Many
I’m measuring fiction here off of its ability to connect you to fellow humans. Popular fictions have more fans than niche fictions do by definition, which means there’s more humans to connect with.
Let me contrast an example of each: George Lucas’ Star Wars and Daniel Simmons’ Hyperion Cantos. Both are richly vibrant fictional worlds that are deep (well developed) and wide (accessible to many), but Star Wars’ popularity affords far more connection opportunities.
It is difficult for me to connect with other fans of Hyperion, despite it having won science fiction’s prestigious Hugo and Locus awards. There’s only 4 books, with a few hundred thousand fellow fans for me to gush with. It’s hard to find other fans, since the last book was released 20 years ago and esoteric by today’s standards. There’s a few Internet discussion forums and fan art pieces, but even if there were a thriving fansite, bonding over the Web cannot compare with the spoken word.
Simmons paints a gorgeous and intricate picture of his fictional world in those 4 books, but what good is the picture in my head if I have no one to share it with?
Meanwhile, Star Wars’ immense staying power in the zeitgeist affords plenty of gushing opportunities with fellow fans. The barber, a fellow bus passenger, even my mother — everyone knows the basics of this universe and most can offer their own opinions on who shot first or whether you should really let the Wookie win. When I learn about Star Wars, the knowledge goes farther.
This is the most straightforward part of my thesis — just like a language, fiction’s value increases with popularity, by the simple math of there being more people to talk with. However, the benefit of numbers goes beyond network effects — both fictions and languages actually become deeper the more broadly they appeal.
Popular Fiction Becomes Deeply Developed
Fictional worlds are distinct from our own but draw from it. At first only the author draws the world, and it exists only to the degree that she develops it. But once a fiction capture the minds of others and becomes sufficiently loved, it gains its own momentum.
Fan fiction gets written. Spin-offs and sequel get green lit. Legions of creative force marshal themselves towards the task of building out this fictional world, because the producers pay them for it, or the fans just want to add their own touch. The fictional world expands in size and scope geometrically, by captivating audiences enough to make them work inside it.
A niche fiction, meanwhile, lays stagnant. It may be gorgeous, enchanting, and deep from inception, but even if the author spends their entire life developing it, it will never gain the lush landscape that a popular fiction does. Even one incredibly imaginative person cannot keep up with the creative work of thousands of fans.
Likewise, if few people speak a language, few people will learn it, and there’s less chance it will grow. The more people who speak a language, the more likely it is to develop.
Poetry and literature are written. Songs and slang emerge. Each of these deepening data points increases the allure the language holds to non speakers. The language becomes deep over time, but only if it goes broadly at first. You need speakers before you can have poets.
Fictions are no different. By appealing broadly at first, it buys itself time to grow further, as the publishers and fans demand more work set in that universe. Once it has established a foothold in the culture, it can dive deeper into specific niches that appeal to the few.
Look at Star Wars spin off tales like Death Troopers’ zombie tale, Knights of the Old Republic’s RPG game, or The Clone Wars’ animated cartoons. They all take place in the same universe, but appeal to very different niche audiences. A popular fiction can hold niche ones within it, but it is difficult for a niche fiction to become popular after launch.
Take Marvel. Their comic book characters languished for decades in the niche audience of comic readers. It took a change of medium and ironing out the oddities of multiple universes to allow it to become the popular annual content machine it is today.
Once a fiction or language is popular, its window to our world widens dramatically. Fans and speakers both hardcore and casual are rewarded as the universe itself expands and deepens. There’s more to love, shared with more people.
Dead Languages Are Pretty, But Useless
There are many beautiful languages out there, but unless you’re a dedicated student of linguistics, there is no reason to learn a language other than to communicate with its speakers. One should choose which language to learn based off one’s affinity for the associated people and culture. The reward of your long hours of practices and grammar drills is the ability to connect with new human beings.
Just as it doesn’t make much sense to learn a dead language, it doesn’t make sense to devote your energy to memorizing the character relationships in a universe that few others know about. The difference is that memorizing those character relationships is intrinsically rewarding — you don’t have to gush about them with other people in order to enjoy the time you spent in that world.
To be clear, I am not one of those nonfiction junkies who thinks that one should only read for knowledge and never pleasure. I love fiction, and I love niche fictions like Hyperion. But I notice that immersing myself in the Star Wars world gets me twice the bang for my attention buck, as I can imagine things in my head and talk about them with others.
I can talk about X-Wings and lightsabers and Death Stars and most people know what I’m talking about. They may not respond likewise when I mention the Old Republic, the Yuuzhan Vong, or Admiral Thrawn, but if they recognize the former, they’ll probably be excited about the latter.
The latter only exist because the former was so popular. As a popular fiction with decades of pedigree, the Star Wars vocabulary is so much richer than what the mind of any one author could create.
A dead language can still be beautiful. And if you enjoy learning the intricacies of its grammar, then by all means, invest your time and reap the rewards. But one cannot deny that a live language offers more, as you can share it with others, as it evolves and incorporates slang from non-canon sources, and it allows you to connect with others beyond a solo sense of pleasure.
Conclusion: Art Remains Inspiring, But Pop Art Inspires Connection
Fiction is a unique art.
Art succeeds by telling the truth, by reflecting some element of the human condition back at us. Fiction succeeds by lying, by conveying a world that does not exist but doing it so believably that it replaces our own. Art touches truth, but fiction touches imagination.
I daresay true art is one person’s subjective reality captured in objective form; the artist’s attempt to share the perfection she sees in her head. If the viewers are touched by that perfection and find a corresponding construct within their own mind, then the art is a success. If the art touches nobody other than the artist, it is a critical failure and becomes understood only in cult circles, if at all.
That niche art still holds value for the few, and that value is no less worthy than the pop art that sells millions. But when art supersedes mere inspiration and and inspires connection, I believe it transcends anything the former can accomplish.
Niche fictions are as fantastic as dead languages are beautiful. I certainly love them. I think everyone should read them (start with Hyperion!), as thought experiments, to inspire your own imagination, or just for the wonderful sense of escapism they provide. But I doubt they can ever provide the same vital connection to the rest of humanity that a popular fiction or language can.
Popular fiction creates a language, while niche fiction creates an escape. Pop fiction allows you to share a deeply vibrant new world with others, while niche fiction gets you lost in the author’s head. Both are wonderful, both are worthy, but pop fiction’s false worlds are so big, so unavoidable, that you can share them in this one.
I believe that a reality passionately shared with others is one of the noblest pastimes available to us as humans. After all, isn’t that what we strive for in the nonfiction world?
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