On Fantasy Fiction

An anthology edited by Mike Ashley (published by Robinson Books)

We are living in an age of marvels. Those of you who read this anthology of short stories, each dealing with some kind of fantasy, are surrounded by real wonders. I am talking of television, film and computers. These three forms of entertainment can entrance us with visual stories. In the case of interactive computer games, we can even become involved and influence the outcome of the tale. We can follow the quest for treasure, or take part in it, become one of the searchers. This can be a wonderful and exciting experience.

However, because these forms of entertainment are quicker and easier than reading, they can just as swiftly become boring. Thus fantastical new creatures are in demand all the time: even as we grow tired of last year's wizardry we are looking around for something fresh to enchant us. Once it was Ninja Turtles, then it was Jurassic beasts, after which came Power Rangers. They come and they go, absolutely magical for a time, but losing their lustre and glamour as quickly as they captivated us.

However, there are some fabulous beings who have been with us far longer than these fleeting wonders: creatures who bewitched our great grandparents and their great grandparents before them. They still fascinate us because no one has ever been absolutely sure they have never existed. They come out of the darkness of the distant past, from a world without machines, and they haunt us on the edge of our memories. In our sensible moments we tell ourselves that fairies, giants, dragons, elves, trolls, hobgoblins and all the other mythical figures of fantasy stories are not real, yet they must be important to us in some way or they would not be there at all.

If we did not need such creatures as giants and fairies, if we totally stopped believing in them, we would not write or want to read about them. We would cut them out of our stories and forget them. After all, if they do not really exist, what would it matter if we burned all the stories in which they appear and wiped them from our minds?

It would only matter if we felt we would lose something valuable by doing so; something we cannot properly name but know it is important to us; some magical world just out of reach, some place just behind the shadows, some half forgotten land where strange beings sit and ponder on whether humans are real creatures or whether they have been invented by storytellers.

When we open the pages of a book such as the one you have in your hand, we are going in search of those creatures. (At the same time they in turn are searching for us, for they need you and I as much as we need them). We go on a voyage of discovery, into their various worlds, looking for excitement and adventure, not knowing whether around the next corner the heroes and heroines with whom we travel might meet some adversary. Sometimes our companions have to use magic, or trickery, or even force to overcome the odds. We are tied to them through the story, so their fate becomes our fate for the unfolding of the tale. We need them to succeed in their quest because we are with them and want to win too.

The quest does not need to be a physical one, travelling over land and sea, over mountains and through forests, to reach the desired object. It might be a spiritual quest, where the hero or heroine goes on a search for something missing within themselves love, kindness, happiness and becomes a better person at the end of the trail. Always, though, something wonderful happens on the road. Some marvellous creature shows us the path, or lights the way in the darkness, or gives us the strength to find courage in ourselves.

I have always loved reading fantasy stories because they come from dee within us, below our everyday ordinary thoughts, from some misty hidden sea of dreams. They take me closer to the soil, to the roots of the natural world, to the pungent woody, mossy, mushroomy, leafy mould out of which we first came onto the earth. Never, in this age of technology, has there been a more urgent need to cling on to the creatures who live in the hollows of rocks, in the dark holes of trees, in the remote valleys and high mountains. These things are inside us, unlike the technological wonders which remain outside, and we can only find our way down to them through tales of wonder.

What you hold in your hands at this moment is a map and guidebook to such a place.

Virtual reality is with us, we cannot send it back from whence it came, nor should we want to. Everything has its place in the world, whether newcomer or with us since the beginning of time. All should be treasured equally and we should not put aside one because the other has arrived. We need new fantasy fiction just as much as computer games. There are dark forests in our souls, full of fabulous beasts and strange beings, and we should go inside and look for them occasionally.

That's what these stories are for, to help you find your way into your dreams.

Garry Kilworth, 1996.