Genre
by Frank Episale

A cursory exploration of, and introduction to, the concept of "genre", its evolving meaning in the marketplace and its relationship to identity politics and the nature of language.

I pay my rent (barely) by working in a Borders bookstore in Manhattan. When things are going smoothly, the store is relatively organized and highly subdivided: Fiction becomes Science-Fiction, Mystery, Horror, Romance, Literature 1 , Gay/Lesbian Literature, African-American Literature, African Literature, Literary Criticism, Poetry, and Drama while Nonfiction has far too many divisions to detail here. This kind of system is often extremely useful and to some extent inevitable. Any store larger than a mini-mall kiosk would find itself inundated with helplessly confused customers if categories were not broken down significantly farther than Fiction and Nonfiction[AM1] 2 . While my friends and colleagues occasionally wax utopian with visions of countless books shelved alphabetically by author, unadulterated by the prying obtrusions of shelf-labels, these visions aren't particularly plausible. Some kind of categorization is inevitable, both as a matter of convenience and, on a more fundamental level, as a function of the way that one would view the world. No system can be perfect, though, and when a customer (or staff member) finds that a book (or CD, or video...) is not shelved according to their expectations, an example of the subjectivity involved in any system of labels becomes apparent.

The tendency of "critical" readers to dismiss what they perceive to be genre fiction in favor of "literature" must first be taken into account. The twentieth century has engendered a greater perceived distinction between popular culture and "high art" than ever before 3 . Devotees of Henry James' Turn of the Screw or Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House might never consider picking up a "ghost story" labeled as Horror, despite the tendency of many major authors to draw on conventions of genre 4 .

Although everyday language may imply a simple one-to-one relationship between a word and what it represents, this relationship is rarely as straightforward as one would like. Genre is no exception. The most obvious examples arise from those unruly authors who refuse to be easily categorized: Should Octavia Butler be shelved in Sci-Fi, African-American Lit or Literature? Is William Burroughs Sci-Fi, Gay Lit or Literature? Jean Genet? Steve Erickson? JG Ballard?

Genre as Marketing Tool

Really, genre is primarily a marketing technique. The goal is to place each book or product where the interested consumer will be most likely to run across it. Sci-Fi readers tend to head directly for the Sci-Fi section; thus if booksellers are pretty sure they would be intrigued by the novels of Jack Womack or Philip K. Dick, then that's where the books are kept 5 . These decisions are often fairly obvious: There is little question that Contact should be kept in Sci-Fi; even the "general reader" whose interest has been piqued by the recent film will assume that this is where they should look.

Certain factors, though, arise again and again, causing this fragile house-of-cards to reveal its instability. First, and most simply, these genres are in no way "pure." Science-Fiction and Fantasy are substantially different categories but are shelved together, both because of their readerships' tendencies to overlap and because of the authors' tendencies to blur the lines between these categories. Mysteries and Thrillers are shelved together for similar reasons, though they are listed separately in the Borders computer system. Not all ambiguity between genres is as easily solved, however. Fantasy and Horror overlap fairly often: Stephen King's Dark Tower series, much of the work of Clive Barker, Steven Barnes' recent Iron Shadows. These works are often spoken of as "Dark Fantasy," making it difficult to decide where they should be placed.

Reader loyalty is a powerful market force, so should an author's books be shelved together or should they be shelved according to their individual genre focus? This is one of the store's most inconsistent issues. Umberto Eco's Name of the Rose is shelved in Mystery while Foucault's Pendulum and Island of the Day Before are in Literature; Martin Amis's Night Train, both an homage to and a play on the conventions of hard-boiled detective fiction, is shelved in Literature with the rest of his work 6 .

"Literature" or Genre?

The decision of whether or not to market a book as "genre" is a crucial one, particularly in light of the resistance of "critical" readers towards genre. Donna Tartt's The Secret History, Katherine Dunn's Geek Love, and Kirsten Bakis's Lives of the Monster Dogs have all garnered devoted followings by being presented as "Literature" rather than Thriller, Horror, or Fantasy. Conversely, James Ellroy (LA Confidential) and Arturo Perez-Reverte (The Flanders Panel) could easily have been marketed as mainstream fiction, but have enjoyed great critical and commercial success by acknowledging their place within the Mystery field.

Of course, author egos also come into play. Anne Rice has been moved from Horror to Literature, but this doesn't seem to have improved the critical response and has resulted in a lot of "ummm... where do you keep Anne Rice?" questions. For new authors, though, the category in which they are labeled can play a major role in the response of the reading public 7 .

"Special Interest" and "Lifestyle" Sections

These categories of genre may amount to little more than increased intellectual and commercial exercise, but the rise of "special interest" and "lifestyle" sections in both book and video stores raises significantly more sensitive issues. These areas have risen primarily because of consumer demand; people from these interests have asked for them. An optimistic outlook would say that African-American and Queer interest sections are an open recognition of their demographic groups as a consumer force, but a darker view of things might see a sort of "ghetto-fiction" situation in which, as a convenient marketing tool, the public's taste and money is further divided and quantified in order to maximize profit. This encourages an atmosphere where people only read books by and concerning their own demographic.

Inconsistencies, of course, abound. Walter Mosley, whose widely praised "Easy Rawlins" series addresses racial issues, is shelved primarily in Mystery rather than African-American Literature. Patricia Cornwell, an openly lesbian mystery writer, is shelved in Mystery rather than Lesbian Literature. This is presumably because she is a mainstream writer who tends to not deal with characters and themes geared toward a specifically lesbian demographic. While Cornwell is published in a genre section by a mainstream house, other lesbian mystery novels, such as those printed by Naiad press, are marketed directly toward a special interest lesbian audience. However, James Baldwin, Ralph Ellison, and Maya Angelou have wide audiences and are published by mainstream presses, yet are shelved in African-American Literature rather than Literature.

Sensitive Questions

Where should a gay, black, science-fiction writer be shelved? Are queer-themed genre-pieces unfairly denied audiences by their "ghetto-ization" in Gay/Lesbian literature? Categorizing special interest sections leads to questionable identity politics and often provokes emotional responses from customers. Our store originally featured a large sign which read "African-American/Gay and Lesbian Literature." At least one customer complained, "I am a proud African-American male but I don't want anyone to think I'm gay." 8  Another woman asked me somewhat angrily why Hettie Jones' memoir is shelved in African-American Literature when she wasn't black but simply married to Leroi Jones, a prominent African-American. Why should she be defined by her husband, even if her fame is largely connected to his? I have occasionally searched for a book which I assumed would be in one place, but by checking the computer discovered it was kept elsewhere. Tony Kushner's Angels in America, a Pulitzer Prize-winning Drama, is shelved in Gay Literature. All of August Wilson's work, a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner (also for Drama), is shelved in African-American Literature. These choices seem absurd to me because I was looking for them as a student of theatre, though someone looking for them based on their thematic and cultural content would likely disagree with me.

More complex forms of prejudice reveal themselves through the shelving system. A Gay-themed Science-Fiction novel will often be categorized as Gay Literature. Is this a fear of alienating the traditional white male adolescent reader of Science-Fiction? While there is an Erotica section in Borders, gay and lesbian erotica tends to be shelved in Gay/Lesbian Literature. Should the inclusive-minded clerk, when asked for erotica, then reply "Gay or Straight?" Similarly, why is The Joy of Gay Sex shelved in Gay Studies rather than in Sex/Intimacy with The Joy of Sex? Are these decisions a matter of convenience for queer consumers or are they a matter of comfort for straight consumers? 9 

The very language of these genres can cause confusion as well. "African-American Literature" is a specific term and therefore writers like Achebe must be kept in a small African Literature section, a section which many staff members often forget about. Black European Authors such as Alexander Dumas are shelved simply in Literature. The possibility of Aboriginal and Island writing turns the whole system on its side. Similarly, does Gay/Lesbian Literature exclude transsexuals, etc.? Many of my colleagues have proposed that the section be changed to Queer Literature but outside of Urban and Academic circles this might be deemed offensive.

An Impossible Conclusion

No matter how sophisticated one's sensitivity to the language is, there will be misunderstandings. These misunderstandings are inherent not only in any attempt at defining and categorizing art but in the fabric of language itself. Language is the lens through which one views the world. It is the architecture of our memory and our understanding. It is fundamental to our prejudices and the foundations of our identities. It is inevitably flawed, as it can never be more than an approximation.

As categories and labels become more specific and increasingly cross-reference each other, they lose their power and their meaning. Every time a new combination emerges, so does a new word, built on the words which preceded it. This is true in music, film, literature, technology, consumerism, and our speech. The smaller the categories, the more they overlap; from a distance they seem to be one vast jumble, one beautiful, insurmountable chaos. One struggles to organize this chaos in order to make sense of it, but art, along with identity, outruns the attempts for definition.

What remains vital is not the search for a universally satisfying system of categorization, but the ongoing process of questioning existing systems. While it may be frustrating to search for Genet in Drama, Literature, and Gay Literature and find a little in each, or to see Iyanla Vanzant upgraded from African-American Studies to Self-Help while Nobel Laureate and perennial bestseller Toni Morrison remains in African-American Literature, the reward is increased self-awareness and active participation in the dialectic of labels which makes up our thoughts, our memories, and our art. 10 

Frank Episale

1. When I was younger, I remember a lot of bookstores taking it upon themselves to separate "Fiction" from "Literature," reinforcing the somewhat arbitrary and generally prejudicial distinction between Art and Entertainment. This trend has, thankfully, declined somewhat, although enough people remember it to cause some confusion over our Fiction section, which is prominently labeled "Literature."

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2. Even these seemingly fundamental categories can become problematic. The rise of the "literary memoir" and the "autobiographical novel" make it difficult to know where to look for such books as Kathryn Harrison's The Kiss. Our store has a True Crime section which, despite the fact that isn't fiction, is shelved with genre fiction categories, most likely because that is perceived to be its target demographic. Also, at least in Borders stores, Literary Criticism as mentioned above is shelved with Fiction, the idea being that this is where the consumer interested in such material will be able to find what they are looking for. Similarly, we do not have a Biography section, instead shelving biographies within the field with which the subject is identified; thus biographies of Melville, Poe, Woolf, etc. are shelved within Fiction. Along these lines, but with opposing results, the works of Sophocles, Homer, etc., are shelved in Classical studies rather than Drama or Poetry.

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3.Film is, arguably, an exception to this principle. While there is a certain amount of snobbery among self-proclaimed "cinephiles," many of the medium's greatest directors have consistently embraced and redefined genre conventions. Hitchcock, Scorsese, Godard, Kurosawa, Lang, Ford, Hawkes, etc., are all prime examples.

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4.The latter half of the twentieth century has brought a great deal of noise concerning exaggerated claims of "the death of the novel" (The Guttenberg Elegies, etc.) This is despite record-breaking literacy rates and a more-active-than-ever publishing industry. While it is true that much of what is published is less than brilliant, it has always been difficult to know what art is going to "last" at the time it is produced. While I myself am often disappointed by the contents of the bestseller list, I believe the novel is thriving and think that some of the snobbery prominent in academic circles hints at a disturbing undercurrent of hostility toward the rise of mass literacy, as well as a poorly thought out and defensive response to recent challenges of the "western canon"'s traditional wisdom.

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5. Of course, the publishers' marketing strategies also play a major role in this decision. If a book is shelved in Science-Fiction but has a cover design and illustration unlikely to attract Sci-Fi fans, sales will likely be sluggish. Often a category is printed directly onto the book's spine but these categories may conflict with the store's ultimate decision.

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6. An additional layer of confusion is added by the fact that different bookstores often make different decisions. Barnes & Noble, for example, shelves Night Train in Mystery, rather than in Literature where most of Mr. Amis's work is.

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7. Narrow and exclusionary views concerning what constitutes high art have often turned out to be extremely short-sighted. Dickens, for example, was widely panned as being a hack who pandered to public taste. Even Shakespeare, for a long time considered secondary to playwrights like Christopher Marlowe and Ben Johnson, has occasionally threatened to fade into obscurity or suffered near-fatal revisions, but has always been rediscovered and revived by those who love theatre and literature.

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8. Similar incidents have been reported throughout the chain. While I tend to dismiss this behavior as absurd and prejudicial, it has made me more aware of just how personal a thing buying a book can be. I am repeatedly fascinated by how much of a person's life and personality you can cull simply by seeing what it is they are reading.

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9. By now, I assume you have wondered why we don't shelve multiple copies of these titles in multiple locations. First, there are many titles which we keep only one or two copies of at a time. Second, the entire concept of customer service is built around the idea that if you ask the clerk at the information desk where to find something, he or she will be able to direct you. If you have to wait around while he or she checks every possible subject heading, all hopes for efficient and impressive service are dashed.

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10. If you're still reading, thanks for your interest and your patience. Please feel free to e-mail me at: frankepi@aol.com. [AM1]