The Case to Redefine High Fantasy: What is Epic?

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A few days ago, when speaking with a new friend, she mentioned how her manuscript is not an epic fantasy like Tolkien, but more mild. While I understood her differentiation, her use of Tolkien’s works as the litmus to test the intensity of epicness within her own work had me scratching my head. It reminded me of a problem I have long had with how we distinguish fantasy works within literature and other mediums.

We often think of Tolkien as the father of modern fantasy literature. After all, it is he who created the term mythopoeia, the art of creating myths, and it is this oral tradition of storytelling, or myth telling, which we humans have participated in since the dawn of time. I know Tolkien understood this, and this is what informed a lot of his own mythos of Arda and Middle Earth. (I know this because I wrote a thesis on it.)

As such, when I have approached my own work, I have toiled over the sands of my world through what I hope is a shred of the same care Tolkien devoted to his work. Thus, while I have endeavoured to emulate Tolkien—and even his counterpart Lewis because like him, I am a huge fan of allegory—I know my work will never surmount the depth and richness of Tolkien’s.

That’s why I think we attribute to him the creation of this genre, fantasy; though, again, he and Lewis argued they did nothing of the sort (also part of my thesis).

Since then fantasy has evolved into a plethora of subgenres that even I can’t keep straight sometimes.

The two main distinguishing factors are that of high or low fantasy, which just means does the story happen within a made-up secondary world or our current world? From there you can have either urban, steampunk, historical, paranormal, magical realism, portal (which usually crosses the line dividing high and low fantasy), contemporary, fairy tale/fables, dark—and epic.

Now some would argue with me that high fantasy is the same is epic, and I would counter with a juvenile, “No, it’s not.”

Here’s why I make this argument; why what my friend said sparked this thought.

There are plenty of fantasy stories which take place in a secondary world, but are not necessarily as grandiose in scope as Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire or Jordan’s Wheel of Time—and that’s okay. They’re probably more similar to Novik’s Uprooted. Not every high fantasy needs to be another The Lord of the Rings. I think if they were, we’d be doing a disservice to the roots of fantasy as a genre; the mythologies and fairy stories and fables we have long whispered to one another in the secrets of the night to inspire, to frighten, to entertain. As my friend said, doing so removes the nuances of fantasy. Stories are as unique as us, as rich, for they are often woven from the depths of our souls. To have only one kind of fantasy story would be as dreadful as humanity being transformed into Cybermen.

Furthermore, I think we have forgotten what epic truly means.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, epic is defined as:

1 : a long poem, typically one derived from ancient oral tradition, narrating the deeds and adventures of heroic or legendary figures or the past history of a nation.

2 : an exceptionally long and arduous task or activity.

Oxford Dictionary

Compare that to the definition found in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary.

1 : a long narrative poem in elevated style recounting the deeds of a legendary or historical hero.

2 : a work of art (such as a novel or drama) that resembles or suggests an epic.

3 : a series of events or body of legend or tradition thought to form the proper subject of an epic.

Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Thus, we might more accurately describe epic fantasy as, “A work of art, such as a novel, resembling a exceptionally long and arduous poem, typically derived from ancient oral tradition, narrating the deeds and adventures of heroic or legendary figures or the past history of a nation, written in an elevated style about a series of events within an imaginative, fictional world featuring magical elements.”

As ridiculous as this sounds—and yes, I am being hyperbolically pedantic—how many fantasy novels do you honestly think could accurately fit such a description? Not many, I presume, when compared the total number of novels written within the entire span of the genre.

To further prove my point, Tolkien was a scholar and philologist by trade before becoming the author we know today. He understood what an epic was by classical definition, and merely wrote his works because it deeply angered him how Britain did not have a mythology like the Greeks or the Norse. His The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion are meant to be a fictionalized, narrative, historical account of the peoples and events of Middle Earth and Arda. Thus, by using the above definition, his works are an epic fantasy.

Here’s why saying all high fantasy is epic fantasy angers me.

Yes, there are the more obvious, selfish reasons. When agents automatically conflate high fantasy of all kinds, describing what they will or will not represent, it makes my choices for querying extremely limited. However, I think the effects I endure are much more tolerable than those of my friend, to use her as an example.

For her, though she has written an epic fantasy, she describes it as not Tolkien-esque. Therefore, for argument’s sake, let’s assume it is not thusly an epic. If she were to seek representation for this manuscript, while it might be epical, she instead decides to simply call it a “high fantasy” to distinguish it from an epic fantasy. However, because just as many agents will automatically reject high fantasy of all kinds, probably thinking they’re all another attempt at The Lord of the Rings, hers will be denied representation just as quickly as mine.

That’s not fair to her or anyone else in her position. We know our work is niche, but not all high fantasy need be.

Just because epic fantasy—true elevated, long, arduous quest fantasy like The Iliad and The Odyssey—isn’t everyone’s cup of tea does not mean we should classify those stories which do not attempt to be written with as grand a reach as that of Tolkien’s mythopoeia when they are set in a secondary world. We need a new term for fantasies which are “high” in nature—i.e. their setting is a secondary world, not our own—but not a hero’s ballad like The Name of the Wind.

By equating epic with any secondary world fantasy, we are manipulating the expectations of readers to assume all high fantasy is going to be an exceedingly long quest, or quests, drawn out over hundreds of pages and multiple installments or series within a single world. (I’m looking at you, Mercedes Lackey.)

That’s extremely misleading to readers who enjoy secondary world fantasy, but not epics, and it is especially unfair to the writers who do want to write only one installment, or even one trilogy, of their secondary world. This is why I think we are too easily discrediting high fantasy works which are not cut of the same cloth as any of the aforementioned authors. By automatically assuming a high fantasy story is an epic story is misrepresenting those stories which are more simplistic in their nature, but no less powerful or epical.

(I have this theory that it is the popularity of young adult fantasy which has caused this conflation of high and epic fantasy since for whatever reason we think our teens incapable of sitting long hours and reading a colossal book series. Thus, we’ve limited them to mere trilogies, but that theory is even more intuitive than the one I’m arguing, and would take far too much time to divulge.)

To use one of my earlier examples, Naomi Novik’s Uprooted is technically a high fantasy, and by most industry standards, if I’m correct, should be automatically considered an epic fantasy. Having read it, I do think it epical, but though there is a clear history and culture to her world, I would not necessarily classify the entire story on the same level as an epic. It is more fable oriented, a fairy tale retelling. Of course, I’m sure Novik could easily deepen her world, having read her Temeraire series (which I need the TV adaptation starring Hiddles as Laurence and Cumberwumbles as the titular dragon NOW, so Peter Jackson if you still have those rights, please get on it, my good sir). However, as I’ve said, just because it’s high fantasy does not automatically mean it is an epic.

I will make one note to say I think fairy tale retellings are probably the one exception to my argument, and might be why so many authors are able to sell and popularize secondary-world fantasy [Sarah J. Maas] because they market their work as such, but I digress.

All stories require a setting to feel real, regardless of genre, otherwise the story does not work. Thus, one of the easiest ways for an author to build their world is to give it its own culture and history. Even stories set within our own world require this. The setting needs to match our presumptions on what that place is, unless it is an alternate version of our world.

In fantasy, the prescriptions are almost universal. There is protagonist, which will for one reason or another undergo some sort of adventure, through which they will endure many trials, on the quest to rid the world of evil or something similar, etc. etc. (Or not. We artists love to break the supposed “rules” of our crafts.) When it is in a secondary world, this only confines the structure further into a specified standard. Thus, this is what we know and should refer to as a “high fantasy,” at the least. For those who want something similar to the hours it would take to listen to an orator recite the adventures of Achilles and Odysseus around the hearth, then those stories should continue utilising the epic classification. However, since agents and publishers (for it is within these spheres I find the conflation most persistent) we should create a new term to separate those works which are not necessarily an epic in nature.

Essentially, while all high fantasy might be epical, not all high fantasy is an epic. Secondary-world fantasy does not an epic make.

This is not only limited to fantasy either. My friend made an excellent point comparing The Martian to Hyperion within the science fiction realm and how different they are. I know very little of sci-fi having read maybe one or two books, so I trust her example, but I know about the more permeating Dune, which is a space opera, and probably the sci-fi equivalent to an epic fantasy—you see my point? There are too many nuances to just assume all types of fantasy and science fiction are the same.

I realise my opinion might not be a popular one. It might be incorrect, too, since I’m not intimately acquainted with the industry (yet), so there could be more distinctions behind the scenes of which I am unaware. My opinion might even come across as a pretentious one to some who don’t understand that my advocation for a distinction of the different types of high fantasy—between epic and whatever-non-existing-term-we-should-use-in-lieu-of-epic—will help writers of the other, non-epic proportions as well as those like me who do attempt to write epic fantasy find representation—all the while making it easier for readers to find what they love that much more.

For isn’t that why we write, anyway? For the readers? Why then should we not make fantasy more accessible?

I don’t know how we should redefine the subgenres of high fantasy, but I think it’s time we start reevaluating the terms we have long equated with different books and perhaps realise our mistakes. Only then do I think we will find a wider readership and less stigmatization of this beloved genre.

What are your thoughts? Do you think we equate high and epic fantasy too much, or do you disagree? Let me know in the comments below!

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