I’ve already written about why escapism is often, but not necessarily, a bad thing from a literary or analytical standpoint, but there are a few more comments I want to make that are less critical of the genre. Escapism, in my opinion, is magical not only in the literal sense of the fantasy or science fiction that it is often encased within, but also in a profoundly emotionally inspirational way. It is a medium for channeling the passion that everyone wants to experience daily, the vessel through which many people’s visions of grandeur are poured into, and a catalyst for art and discussion and love.
Writing or creating in any way something of or within escapism is an attempt to capture the very magic that once captivated the creator – and this is true of any performance art. Music, magic of the Penn and Teller variety, art, teaching (in a perfect world), woodworking, etc. are all inspired. The delirious thrill of watching a master of their craft at work, and the ensuing, gut wrenching jealousy that fuels that kindling of passion. This, to me, is magic, where one might get swept away by the feeling, obsessively creating and practicing and perfecting until something great is made.
It’s a beautiful thing, but at the same time there are often the lowest lows for those that experience the greatest highs, pitch-black subterranean caverns and milky white clouds in the bluest of skies. Perhaps others can consume their escapism in moderation, but in my experience I binge-watch or read and then feel lost at the end – and there’s always an end.
Escapism, or, well, good escapism, is chasing that high, with all the negative connotations that entails. The best highs, though, are ones that make you think, and this comes back to my previous post that discussed the ways escapism can be produced in a significant or interesting way. The ideal is to create a fantastic story that holds up after the escapist glow fades away – that’s what makes great media, a high that never really fades away into obscurity.
The Scenic Climax 