Have you noticed how an increasing number of authors are breaking away from the Eurocentric worlds associated with speculative fiction? It has been super refreshing to read mainstream books set in magical, faraway places that are totally different than what we’ve grown used to.

But now I question why I automatically default to those pseudo-European worlds in my own books. Am I driven by tradition or personal preference?

I think growing up in South Africa is part of the reason why I romanticise Europe. And I sincerely don’t mean to offend anyone with that statement!

There is incredible beauty in Africa. Dry Highveld winters with frost-tipped grasses and red sunrises peeking between leafless trees. Thundering summers with curtains of rain, and lingering petrichor as the skies clear to crystal blue once again.

South Africa isn’t the largest country in the world, but you can find every kind of vista in that small span. The Drakensberg with its rolling fields and reaching peaks. The warm waters and sunny beaches of the East Coast. The Cape provinces, ranging from flat prairies with rolling tumbleweeds and mud-coloured rivers, to dense tropical forests and spectacular coasts in only a few hundred kilometres. It is a country of world-class metropolitan cities, villages made of clay and mud huts, and literally everything in between.

I really do love South Africa and I’ll sing about its wild beauty until the day I die, but the fact is, I escaped my reality into bookish worlds. Speculative authors led me to quaint, sleepy villages with cobbled streets and cut-stone buildings. I trekked snowy peaks and misty boreal forests smelling of pine. Castles. Moss-covered and ancient. Ruins of civilizations older than dirt.

So, you dream about those places. About people with fur-trimmed cloaks or hooped dresses and top hats. You imagine hooves clacking on cobbled streets or bright red sleighs leaving tracks in the snow. I can still smell bright malvas in windowsill pots hugging diamond-latticed windows—stained glass, of course.

Granted, I could feel differently if I’d had the chance to read speculative fiction set in South Africa. But the romance lived in what was out there. The otherness of it all.

Then, after a lifetime of dreaming, I left South Africa for the first time at 26.

We visited London and Scotland—which was the biggest dream of all. You see, my grandfather’s family hails from Inverness, and my number one bucket list item was to go there. To see where my family’s story begins. That part of the trip was a life-changing experience for me. I could barely contain all the feelings as the plane descended over Inverness, I cried when my feet touched Scottish soil for the first time, and the high emotions continued as we trekked across the Highlands.

In many ways, my experience in Scotland was one of the best and most magical of my life. I’ve drawn endless writing inspiration from those memories and I’d love to return and drink in more of the place.

In contrast, I was convinced I’d hate London. Travellers will tell you that it’s always raining and dreary there, and that the city is kind of greyish. Another traveller we met commented that the people are also kind of greyish. Rude, he’d said, due to the whole stiff upper lip thing.

I didn’t expect much, but it turned out I was in no way prepared for the way London impacted me.

The bustle. The vibe. To this day, I’m floored by the eclectic, electric mix of people—who, for the most part, are nothing but courteous. The artist in me grows lyrical about the mash-up of old and new. The culture, the history, the architecture, and just the general way of life. There’s something to see in every corner of the city, and more to discover with every visit.

Then, while living in Europe, we got to explore even more. Cradles of civilisation, like Rome. Pillars of culture, like Paris. Metropolitan hubs, like Düsseldorf. And all of the above with those cobbled streets and ancient buildings I’d dreamed about.

I think the magic lives in how old those bones are. The age-old history, thrumming in the very stone. Then, it’s easy to think about what could have been. To wonder about the tales that were lost or forgotten and make up our own answers.

I’m still in love with the idea of Europe and it still feels like an escape from reality. So, I instinctively write books set in Eurocentric worlds because they seem the best suited for storytelling.

And this is where it gets complicated, because Canada exists.

Because most South Africans either move to Australia or come to Canada, we all know at least one family member or friend who has made their new home here. They tell us stories of winter sports and random coyotes or bears in their back yards. We see pictures of auroras dancing above their homes. So, we knew about Canada’s beauty before we arrived, but we couldn’t truly understand how the untamed north would change us. Not until we’d experienced it for ourselves. And because of this place, I’ve begun to question what magic really is.

It’s like the land remembers things humanity hasn’t even thought to ask. Like we could find ourselves just by breathing in the icy fresh air.

An ever-changing landscape from coast to coast. Prairies so flat you can see straight into next week, rolling grasslands dotted with cattle, thousands of small lakes that look like Dalmatian spots from above, or the Great Lakes, large enough to lose whole countries in. Petal snow in the spring, jewel-toned summers, autumns in unbelievable warm palettes, and blanketed, glittering winters. There is no ugly stepsister here, just the flawless heroes you read about in young adult novels.

And then, friends, then there’s the Rocky Mountains.

I will die on this hill, but the Rockies are the most beautiful place on earth. Okay, fine, the lochs of Scotland tie for first, thanks to the spiritual connection I felt with them. But these mountains constantly call my name. They call to me and give me peace.

Isn’t that exactly what magic is supposed to feel like?

As a side note, I’m often asked if Canadian winters have cured me of my snow obsession. It hasn’t. I love snow. I live for the quiet when the snow’s coming down. For the way the light glitters on millions of crystalline fragments. The mystery of trees covered in frost, the icicle-beards beneath frozen waterfalls, and the incredible patterns found in layers of ice.

That said, the lack of sunshine does add to my depression, and I do bitterly complain towards the end of the winter, when the ground is still shrouded in old snow. Also, pretty as ice can be, I detest the stuff. There is no fun in slipping everywhere, or having to wear spikes just to walk the 900 metres to drop my kid at school. Of course, even after learning how dreary late-winter snow can be, I sprinkled the stuff into every book I’ve ever written, so it can’t be that bad. 🤣

And I wonder if I’d have stuck to my Eurocentric escapism if I’d known sooner how deeply I’d fall for Canada.

Which brings us nicely back to the purpose of this post. As I mentioned earlier, the trend of only Eurocentric worlds in speculative fiction is changing. We find increasingly more books set in deserts, savannas, or rainforests, or explore the other ancient cultures of the world. I’ve also noticed that Eurocentric worlds have shifted from pseudo-Londons and Frances to embrace rich Spanish or Portuguese cultures, among others.

And it’s exciting. It’s fresh. I’m betting this kind of writing will allow a whole new generation to escape to whole new worlds.

I haven’t been able to write much in terms of stories, but I feel inspired by the idea that I could explore different places through writing. I am totally fascinated with many places located in not-Europe. I’d love to visit Japan, for example. And India. And I’d love to experience Morocco, basically anywhere in South America, or travel to the Philippines. I’m convinced those places will add substance and flavour to those stories I don’t even know I’ll write. Until then, I want to build different settings out of words, and maybe create my own kind of magic.

What are your favourite kinds of story settings? Do you mind the Eurocentric tropes, or are you looking for something new? Let’s chat in the comments!

Yolandie