Dear Max Gladstone: My Narrative and Mechanical Kinks
by D.J. Elias
Narrative kinks imply preference, and while I personally
tend to have leanings to some genres and imagery (I particularly like science
fiction), that’s not what really makes a story stand out to me. For my personal
preference, or narrative “kink”, I like pieces of media that are strongly
stylized.
This may seem really broad (probably because it is), but
let me explain for a minute. There are so many times where I read a book or I
watch a movie or I play a game and I think: “Man. I’ve seen this all before.”
There are so many times where I turn on the television and I feast my eyes on
another generic crime show with a handsome 30-year old actor with a forehead
the size of his ego and his beautiful female assistant/love interest. These
qualities themselves are not bad, but the way the show decides to treat their
qualities, as simple tropes to appeal to general audiences, tends to make me
bored.
What I like is not necessarily originality (although it
helps). You can use orcs and elves and all that Tolkien stuff and I’m ok with
it. Space ships, time travel, it’s all fine with me. Hell, the characters can
be clichéd too, and I’m willing to forgive it. But it has to make an impression
on me. Whether it is through the writing, or the cinematography, or the way the
piece of media plays around with the tropes and clichés at its disposal, it has
to leave me impressed with your capability as a creator of things.
I’ll take our most recent reading in SF as an example.
The Last Unicorn isn’t really a complex book narratively, in fact, it tends to
follow the monomyth pretty well. Sure, there are some weird things about it
(the fact that the main character is a unicorn being a pretty big one), but
it’s a fairly normal story about hope, belief, and beauty (with some good ol’
mortality vs. immortality thrown in for good measure). But the story and the
characters aren’t what drew me in to the Last Unicorn, it’s the way that the
author used its language to really give an idea of what the story was. For
instance, this passage early on: “…And wondered at Arachne's new web, which was
like a fisherman's net with the dripping moon in it. Each of them took it for a
real web, but only the spider believed that it held the real moon.” The way
that passage shows not only the character of the world but also the character
of the spider is something I still marvel at.
To be fair, that’s more of the mechanics of narrative
rather than narrative itself. Stylization in narrative usually comes from doing
one of two things (or, at least, from what I have seen):
1.
Do something
entirely original (or if not original, derivative) with your plot/characters
2.
Play on the
audience’s expectations
I’ve seen two quite a
lot more often than one, since it is easier to derive humorous/dramatic
scenarios from what we know than to come up with something completely original.
This isn’t necessarily the road map to a good story,
hell, far from it. There have been some bad pieces of media that play around
with these two things this way. Also, stories can just be same-y and I can
still enjoy it. The main point is that I, personally, tend to gravitate to this
heavy style, rather than the more subtle things. Maybe I just like my things to
be bombastic, but it gives me an easier way of saying: “Wow, this writer is
awesome!” rather than just letting the writer fall to the background.
Dear D.J.,
ReplyDeleteColor me surprised! I didn't have you pegged as a reader who much goes in for stylized approaches to writing. Shows you what I know, huh?
I love how you parse the quote from Beagle's _The Last Unicorn_ because that analysis shows such awareness of the many layers of work he's having his prose do for his reader. Authors can earn the right to a little (to borrow your word) bombast if they know how to make use of it, blending subtlety and nuance into a highly crafted moment.
Thanks for responding to Max's question!
Best,
TT