In my childhood, I became quickly fascinated in reading what now, as a Creative Writing major and author, I know as “secondary-world” fantasy and science fiction. Broadly, this is defined as literature that exists in a totally imagined setting (instead of Earth’s past, present, or future). It is one thing to find oneself captivated and transported by these works of speculative literature, and another to discuss their writing quality or literary significance, or even their handling of racism or violence. However, at least for me, there is another part of secondary-world literature that often feels unaddressed: How beyond the basic plot of a literary work, the world-building and course of imagined “history” also tells an important narrative.
Tolkien’s “The Lord of the Rings” is among the most famous examples of a secondary world, with Tolkien himself having coined the term. But beyond providing a backdrop for his books, Tolkien’s vast library of encyclopedic appendices presents a continuous narrative of Middle Earth’s fictional history. This “second story,” so to speak, after the primary story surrounding Tolkien’s characters, tells of the rise and fall of great powers, the transformation of people groups, and culmination of history into the plot seen in “The Lord of the Rings” proper.
This phenomenon, though, is perhaps clearer in its importance when seen in the works of George R. R. Martin. Despite relying on real-world history for much of its political plot, “A Song of Ice and Fire” nevertheless illustrates how the overarching lore narratives of a fantasy world can add to the story of its characters. While the novels (and their television adaptations) focus primarily on characters engaging in political schemes, the fantastical nature of these schemes gives them broader meaning that might not be possible in a strictly historical story. For example, Daenerys’ sympathetic dream of “breaking the wheel” to end a bloody cycle of monarchic power struggles would sound to me like nothing more than the wholly naive and unrealistic pinings of an overentitled princess were it on the backdrop of real history (where, to this day, bloody wars for imperial power endlessly continue). This is in part because secondary worlds allow readers to transport themselves to a place where they have no way to know which characters and forces will prevail, unlike with real-world history where readers may have previous knowledge of the people or events.
Further, many fictionalized political forces and desires feel little different from today’s tiring news cycle in the context of a realistic setting. But with these forces hidden within a wholly imagined world, as a reader I feel encouraged to engage with them differently: not as strict representations of real-world movements and all their attached biases, but as something to be invested in and followed, like characters. In this way, any political and philosophical debates in secondary worlds stand a chance to slip by my (admittedly strong) real-world political biases. On a large scale, this might even help people think more critically about traditionally highly biased issues.
While less common, secondary worlds in genres other than strict fantasy also exist: In the last several decades, science fiction media has also started to embrace secondary worlds outside of strict predictions of Earth’s and humanity’s future.
Despite being among the most famous examples of a secondary world in science fiction, the original “Star Wars” film trilogy felt rather oversimplified in its portrayal of politics and big-picture forces. However, I haven’t seen the same oversimplification in that franchise’s tie-in literature, particularly when it comes to the relatively recent “Ascendancy” trilogy by Timothy Zahn. This trilogy, focused on a character’s rise through a reclusive alien nation’s military ranks, features a primarily nonhuman cast. Zahn’s alien nations have differing cultures and guiding political ideologies; together, these create the shadow of a greater narrative looming large over Zahn’s characters — a story of the lengths countries will go to deceive each other, how pragmatism and realpolitik ideology dominate governments faced with difficult choices, and the complex results when new developments upset old systems.
Outside of franchises, the recent trilogy “The Kindom” by debut author Bethany Jacobs is also secondary-world, to a degree. While there are vague suggestions that the setting’s human civilization originates from a distant homeworld (possibly Earth), the setting is built from the ground up with fictional planets, politics, languages, ethno-religious groups, and even conceptions of gender. Thanks to this imaginatively detailed world, I find “The Kindom” avoids both the oversimplified politics and violence found in the original “Star Wars” trilogy and the tiresome preaching sometimes found in stories about real-world politics and events — all while presenting narratives about the consequences of ethno-religious discrimination, capitalism, and genocide.
Arguably, secondary worlds have grown via somewhat less prominent young-adult fantasy books like “Red Tigress” (Amélie Wen Zhao) and “Skyhunter” (Marie Lu), and Essa Hansen’s space opera “Nophek Gloss.” Either way, with websites like World Anvil emerging in part to cater to people building secondary worlds, these imagined universes are doubtlessly here to stay.
