The Lure of Genre

[coalescent]

A critic succumbs to temptation:

...Not SF that aspired to literary heights; not fantasy that was masquerading as a new, deeply academic study of Ovid’s Metamorphoses in disguise.

No, this was the real thing, pure genre fiction, extending a hand, beckoning with a finger, saying, be honest: wouldn’t you rather read us than the tediously boring, critically applauded garbage you’re stuck with?

I would. And I did. And several days later, emerging from pleasant visions of prophecies and imps and dragon’s eggs, I caught myself wondering, not for the first time, why genre fiction isn’t given the three rousing cheers it’s so clearly entitled to.

Same old story, right? Nothing we haven't seen thousands of times before. But wait! Later in the article, a more sinister explanation becomes apparent...

The premise of “The Plasmoids” is diabolically simple: what if science fiction was actually created by aliens delicately infiltrating the human creative consciousness as a way of sending out messages in a bottle?

This story (or secret documentation of an alien conspiracy, take your pick; let's face it, it would explain an awful lot) really exists. It's by Samit Basu, it's here, it's about a thousand words long, and you should all read it.