A train doesn't grow by leaving one station behind

Lewis prefers fantasy because it “stirs and troubles [the reader] (to his lifelong enrichment) with the dim sense of something beyond his reach” (1078). By contrast, according to Lewis, realistic fiction operates by placing the reader in a situation with which he or she is both familiar and able to vicariously experience through identification with the characters. Thus the latter is primarily a “fantasy” in which the reader is more beautiful, popular, athletic, etc. We (our class) might want to consider the difference between ‘realistic’ children’s fiction in 1952 when this article was originally published and the realism of contemporary fiction. It would be difficult to claim, as Lewis does about the realistic fiction of his day, that today’s fiction for children presents a benign, protected world. Thus at first blush, it seems like one of his criticisms of realistic fiction is not applicable to contemporary fiction. Further contemplation leads me to speculate differently. By appealing to Jung, Lewis indicates his view of psyche. A Jungian therapist is supposed to present a blank or reflective persona so the client can project his or her issues. This is essentially the same benefit he sees in fairy tales. At the behest of my favorite 8 year old, I read Eragon for my ‘boy’ book and Eldest for this week. Both books invite the reader to consider what it means to be ‘other’. There are a number of sentient species, some both physically and behaviorally abhorrent. Towards the end of the second book, their portrayal is mitigated when the protagonist comes to understand both the ‘history’ of one of the races and the necessity of cooperation for their (humans and others) joint survival. It raises the question, when a group has committed an atrocity upon you (in this case massacred and eaten your loved ones, which means that your beloved dead can never rest), how do you put it behind you and move toward peace. Sounds like a political comment to me.
In the Ostry article, the emphasis isn’t on the ‘how’ of the science shaping each work’s premise, but rather, on the issues defining who and what makes us what we are. I’ve not read a single selection she discusses, but her focus implies the genre has an astute understanding of possible complexities, both of motives and unpredictable outcomes. I’ve read some sci-fi-the Ender’s series and most if not all of Anne Mccaffrey. From the Ender books and this article, sci-fi seems to more overtly invite the reader to examine all the good and horrible ramifications of decisions made often, but not always, in good faith. It has been a while since I read them, but to the best of my recollection, Mccaffrey does not seem to as overtly demand consideration of these humanistic questions.
The issues raised by Ostry make excellent fodder for classroom discussion. What books should be used raises a different question. Is the book well crafted? If so, by all means use sci fi in class. Although less firmly committed than at the beginning of the semester, I tend to make ‘discussion questions’ secondary to (oh gosh, this sounds so arrogant) aesthetics. This hinges on the value of reading crap, for instance the book Jim railed about earlier this semester, for the purpose of explicitly exposing something, suspect values, poor craftsmanship, etc.