Fantastic Metropolis

In April 1991, Michael Moorcock wrote in his introduction to the anthology New Worlds 1 (Gollancz):

Literary science fiction remains largely ignored by reviewers who will still announce that J.G. Ballard or Kurt Vonnegut books are too good to be sf, in spite of the writers’ own claims that they are nothing less. TV critics will still tell us, without a flicker of déjà vu, that literary sf is more about inner space than outer space and proceed to air the same extraordinary prejudices they have been airing for years, based chiefly on the inability or unwillingness to learn an unfamiliar vocabulary, a failure to detect irony, and a presumption that the writers are primitives or naifs. When this kind of sf goes to the reviewer eagerly awaiting the next David Eddings bestseller it is frequently met with straightforward hostility.

It has been over a decade, and I am certainly startled and dismayed to note that nothing has changed since Michael wrote this introduction.

In April of 2001, The SF Site began running a column entitled Dislocated Fictions, written by myself and focusing on what I called the “Next Wave.” These were the authors that challenged the status quo, who took their inspiration from the “New Wave” and continued the quest to revitalize the sf/fantasy industry.

Then I realized; this was not a movement. This was simply an evolution happening at the outer edges of speculative fiction, happening beneath the radar of the average reader; a piece of perpetual motion that had been growing since Day One, building upon the layers of speculative fiction grown throughout time. Like a city, expanding and shooting upward.

The sad fact was, few people were noticing. The dearth of good criticism, the lack of marketing for anything that even remotely fought against the sterilized and homogenous Product; these factors have worked to effectively snuff the life from what should have been a vital industry. But some people have been standing up. Some people have been fighting. And those are the people that this website celebrates.

The focus of the Fantastic Metropolis website is cast directly upon those murky edges of genre and non-genre works, which explore the vague recesses of fiction and Humanity, the fantastic and the horrific. You will find no David Eddings here, nor Robert Jordan, nor even venerable Isaac Asimov. This site is devoted solely to those writers that have been laboring away to create newness and vitality in a stagnant marketplace. There is no Product here; only Art. We take fantastica seriously here. Dead seriously.

Within, you will find an ever-expanding roster of talented folks that are devoted to pushing the razor’s edge in fiction. This site will grow continually, expanding like any city; skyscrapers will spring up from nowhere, gleaming and beautiful, and twisting alleyways will take you to the dank depths of depravity and despair. So feel free to explore. There are nooks and crannies that bear your names upon them. I am certain you will find them eventually. When you do, remember that you are alone with the Art. It is quite alright to weep if you must.