Questioning Your Genre Identity

I'm sorry about the title, really; I just get entirely too much fun out of the similarity (historical as well as phonetic) between the words "genre" and "gender". Also, anyone who's read any "Culture" stories probably wouldn't mind if Iain M. Banks had his own bathrooms. I'm getting to that.

In my perennial quest to classify myself, a terrible aching thirst that has, I think, always plagued humanity, I think I came across a label that largely fits my SF: "new space opera". New space opera, to quote from the Wikipedia article on space opera in general:

...which evolved around the same time cyberpunk emerged and was influenced by it, is darker, moves away from the "triumph of mankind" template of space opera, involves newer technologies, and has stronger characterization than the space opera of old. While it does retain the interstellar scale and scope of traditional space opera, it can also be scientifically rigorous.

The new space opera was a reaction against the old. New space opera proponents claim that the genre centers on character development, fine writing, high literary standards, verisimilitude, and a moral exploration of contemporary social issues.

That's pretty much my stuff, right there.

The list of writers they give includes Peter F. Hamilton (Night's Dawn trilogy) and Iain M. Banks (The Culture)—indeed, it's mostly Brits, revoltingly, though I'd put David Brin's Uplift stories in there, too. Does anyone else see why I'm hesitant to place my own work with theirs, despite the similarity of descriptions?

Yeah, you got, basically, a trio of religiously and economically illiterate vapid ideologues. A perennial theme in my own work is that the rank and file guy in an evil organization isn't usually a bad person: but the ideology, and whatever resentments attracted him to it, can have him do things he doesn't approve of. Brin? Yeah, not so much—anyone who doesn't regard the Guardian as a right-wing newspaper is just plain evil.

Plus, I make a point of giving people actual arguments for their positions, even ones I don't agree with, like Foucaultian transgressivism or Rawlsian "public reason". In this I am apparently unique. I mean, do you think the "religious" opposition to "Uplifting" animals incorporates arguments of half the complexity seen in Humanae Vitae? Of course not: Brin does not know how the Pope would argue the case, he makes shit up based on his favorite unlettered caricatures. Do you think Banks knows the psycholinguistic pedigree of gendered pronouns in the Indo-European and Semitic languages? Of course he doesn't, that would interfere with his pseudo-Marxist gender-oppression narratives. Do you think Hamilton knows which forms of biotech Christianity would permit, and which not? Here's a hint: a lot more than contemporary European social mores. Look at the religious demographics of the UK, and then, please, explain to me why they banned the import of genetically modified crops—the main opposition to biotech isn't religious, thank you for reading up on the topic. But all that is immaterial to them: they know, as "everyone knows", that Christians are the foes of technological progress. You know, just like "everyone" used to "know" that Jews are greedy.

Which brings up an interesting question, "How exactly are these guys' stories moves away from the 'triumph of mankind' theme?" In Brin, mankind has triumphed so far as to bestow the gift of sapience—indeed not just sapience but Speech, to make a distinction that only matters to Navajos—on a number of animals. In Banks and Hamilton, they've taken control almost entirely of every aspect of their own bodies, and dwell with a number of artificial lifeforms. In some SF stories species that could do that would be regarded as gods, not men—but no, there's no humanist triumphalism about Banks or Hamilton at all. Nope, none.

So the "triumph of mankind" theme is now called "triumph of humynkind" and involves a nonviolent, diversity-celebrating workers' state: still triumphalism, thank you. Contrast that to my stories, where humans are widely regarded by all the other aliens as backward, factional savages—the only nice thing the felinoids can think of to say about humans is, "And yet they still stood and fought us." You know how you know a story's not about the "triumph of mankind"? If it's about mankind not winning. I know, weird concept, huh? I guess, going by the Wikipedia description, I have more right to call myself "new space opera" than these guys do.

The one area where "new space opera", as described, wouldn't fit my stuff, is that thing about "a moral exploration of contemporary social issues". While most of the idols I take my hammer to are of relatively recent manufacture—Brin, Banks, and Hamilton can often be found prostrated before them—the way that's phrased just sounds like you're getting into Very Special Episode country. I mean, I suppose my themes of "individualism and collectivism are alike fallacies with abominable human consequences" and "a government is judged solely on the basis of whether it preserves justice and peace, not by any particulars of its organization" might be contemporary social issues, but aren't they really perennial? Certainly I use particular modern examples—Foucaultian and Rawlsian philosophy, quasi-corporativist economics, etc.—to make my points, but I wasn't concerned exclusively with exploring contemporary issues. There were actually two other factors: rage is my muse, and modern claptrap pisses me off more than older claptrap, since I hear it more often; and contemporary philosophies, with all their follies on their heads, are likely to continue to exist into the future. That last bit, the worldbuilding factor, was the main one.

So I guess my stuff is new space opera, but from an unusual perspective for the genre. I wonder if there's a way to tout that when I need to advertise the things—"New Space Opera Informed by Something Other than 8th Grade Civics!"