The best science fiction books that don’t actually care about genre

Nominally science fiction, this collection of stories does revolve around the human colonization of the planet Mars, but science is not very important in these stories. There are rockets, but we don’t learn much about them: they’re not what the stories are about. There are Martians, but they’re more like the Fair Folk of old European legends, beautiful and dangerous, than they are like traditional ETs. These Martians are very real, but they’re also metaphors, presented in each story according to what Bradbury wants the story to do. In fact, I would say this wonderful collection influenced my fantasy writing more than my SF writing. I still go back to it and find new things to admire.

Again, a work labeled science fiction (it won the top science fiction prizes of its day)—that takes place in the far future, on a presumably distant planet. This one features a war between “deities” that are basically superheroes, but this thrilling and poetic work draws far more on Hindu (and Buddhist) mythology than on traditional SF tropes. Written with Zelazny’s usual nimble touch, Lord of Light instructs while it entertains: the main characters, once astronauts, have become gods ruling over their new planet, and the only people who can fight tyrannical gods are... other gods. 

Again, this book is in most ways clearly SF—space travel, zappy ray guns, force fields—but the sandworms are straight out of Kaiju movies or dragon stories. The force field technology means that the most important fights are hand-to-hand with bladed weapons, and Herbert’s protagonists are the prophesy-believing tribesmen who live close to the land and hold fast to their ancient traditions. And it’s also full of mystical, high-flown metaphysical philosophy, most of which I could happily crib for use in a fantasy novel. In short, it’s not really SF, it’s Lawrence of Arabia with lasers and witches.

King’s sprawling SF epic is really just a werewolf in science-fiction sheep’s clothing. A weaponized disease escapes the lab and kills most of the world’s population—the makings of a classic SF post-apocalyptic tale. But the appearance of archdemon-cognate Randall Flagg—much more of a fantasy villain than an SF villain—completely changes the tone (and the stakes). He’s not human, he’s a Dark Lord—Sauron in jeans and Western boots. Because of Flagg, as far as Good vs. Evil goes, it’s about as subtle as Piers Plowman, though King’s character-building is some of his best. In fact, the book is in most ways a classic King horror novel rather than SF—the set-pieces are designed to build suspense and fear, building toward catharsis, rather than to ask questions and reveal answers as is common in SF.

This series of linked novels and stories—start reading at An Alien Heat—would also be called SF.  They deal with time travel, the end of human civilization, and all kinds of other science-fictiony ideas. But the science is blurred almost into invisibility: the people living at the End of Time have little to no idea of the eons that have passed before them—nor do they much care about the past, except as a source of themes for their decadent parties. (Their ignorance of historical fact is also where a lot of the humor comes from.) The End of Timers have power rings that draw energy from the “ancient cities”, and with them can basically do magic—rearrange geography, create and destroy apparently living beings, and change themselves into any shape they want. So science is way back on the back burner; what we have instead is essentially a society of idiot wizards whiling away the centuries before the Earth’s last gasp. And it’s glorious.