I’ve been reading some books about the history of twentieth-century mystery novels and science fiction stories, and one thing that struck me was that each of these genres had a sense of continuity. If you used a gimmick in a story, then it was “yours,” and future authors were kind of obliged to come up with something new or, if they were going to use your idea, they were supposed to give it a new twist or else refer back to your original story. And there was a sense of progression, as the mystery puzzles became more elaborate and the science fiction scenarios became more deeply realized.

With an expectation of progression comes a fear of stagnation, and I think that one reason that genre fans talk about a “golden age” (that would be the 1930s for mysteries or the 1940s for science fiction) is the idea that you can’t keep coming up with new tricks. At some point you need to change the rules, which for mysteries included directions such as interacting psychology and sociology (Ross Macdonald, etc.), focusing on local color and how the world really works (John D. Macdonald, George V. Higgins, etc.), and for science fiction meant a move away from the poles of horror on one side and techno-optimism on the other. Even as the genres expanded, though, I think there remained a sense of them as cumulative, with new writers building upon what had been done in the past. You weren’t supposed to write a mystery novel or science fiction story where you ripped off some previously-published plots without adding something.

What about other genres?

Let’s start with “mundane” or “memetic” fiction—that is, non-genre writing that follows conventions of realism. There, it’s considered ok to reuse plots, sometimes very openly as with Jane Smiley’s remake of King Lear, other times just with standard plot structures of happy families and unhappy families and affairs and business reversals and all sorts of other stories. In memetic fiction, the plot is not the main focus, and even if the plot is a driver of the story (as with Jonathan Franzen, for example), nobody would really care if it’s taken from somewhere else.

Other genres commonly mentioned in the same breath as mystery and science fiction are romance, western, porn, and men’s adventures (war stories, etc.). I don’t know much about these genres, so maybe readers can correct me on this, but it’s my impression that the twentieth-century versions of these genres have not been cumulative in the way of mystery and science fiction. It was not expected that a romance story or a war story would need a new plot twist or a new idea. Westerns might be different just because they were so popular for awhile that maybe their high profile pushed authors to come up with new twists, I’m not sure. I’m not saying these genres are static—they will change over time as readers’ expectations change—but they’re not expected to offer novelty or innovation in the way of mystery or science fiction.

Why would these other genres not be cumulative? Perhaps because they are offering different sorts of pleasures. Traditionally, mystery and science fiction stories have the form of puzzles; you’re reading them for the pleasure of trying, and often failing, to figure them out, and then maybe rereading for the pleasure of understanding how the mechanisms were put together. In contrast, memetic fiction and genres such as romance/western/etc. are read more for their emotional impact. OK, I guess people would also read memetic fiction as a way to learn about the world—but to learn, you don’t need a new twist in the story, you just need a clear presentation.

I’m not saying that mystery and science fiction are read merely for their puzzle aspects. Mysteries also offer the thrill of suspense and the twin satisfactions of lawbreaking and justice, science fiction has the sense of wonder, and both genres offer some form of social commentary that is gained by looking at society from a distance. I’m just saying that the puzzle is a big part of Golden Age mystery and science fiction, and this could help explain their cumulative natures.

What other genres could we consider?

There’s writing for children (recall Orwell’s classic essay on boys’ weeklies) and young adults, but with rare exceptions these books are read by a new audience every few years, so there’s no need for continuity. It’s no problem if you steal a plot idea from a twenty-year-old book that today’s kids are no longer reading.

There’s also modernist fiction, where the innovation is supposed to come in the form, not the content. You can steal an old plot but you’re supposed to present it from some new perspective, and that’s a puzzle in a different way.

So that’s how I see things as of 1950 or so (with a few forward references). What’s been happening since?

So many more books get published each year than before, and nobody can keep track of them. In the meantime, it seems that fewer people are interested in reading for the puzzle. Yes, Agatha Christie remains popular, and I’m guessing that some classic science fiction continues to sell, but I get the impression that, for a long time now, readers of mystery and science fiction aren’t looking for clever puzzles anymore, with rare exceptions such as Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone and The Martian. Mystery and science fiction novels are now more like mystery and science fiction movies, which, again, with rare exceptions, are mostly about delivering thrills, with a side of philosophical reflection.

So, between the disappearance of the past, the diminishing interest in puzzles, and the sheer impossibility of remaining aware of all the earlier books in the genre, I’m guessing that mystery and science fiction are no longer cumulative endeavors the way they used to be. Instead of trying to top what came before, their authors are just writing books.

There’s also the economics of it all: 50 or 100 years ago, you could make an OK living churning out books of any sort, you could make a good living writing successful books, and you had an outside chance of getting rich (by the standards of the day; I’m talking “millionaire,” not “billionaire”) by plugging into the zeitgeist and writing bestsellers. Nowadays, with very rare exceptions, even successful authors don’t sell many books; many literary authors are reduced to supporting themselves through academic jobs; and pretty much the only way they’ll make real money from writing is through movie or TV contracts.

To return to the main topic of this post, the transition from a cumulative to a static literature: this happens in other fields too. Music, for example, This happens in different genres at different times, but it seems that in many genres of music, there is a period where different composers and artists are feeding on each others’ work and feel the need to do something new (recall Brian Wilson’s attitude with respect to the Beatles), and a period where there is no longer the sense of cumulative building of a genre.