Recognize the reference? E-mail me — you’re on the honor system, no Googling — and you will win . . . my respect and admiration.
At any rate, this morning I feel like chanting: “We want the formula! We want the formula!” The past two weeks have wreaked havoc on my writing life, and I’m really struggling with the book-in-progress, although I’ve done some work this morning that helps me understand the story better. I’m stuck in the middle and, yes, when I type those words, I suddenly see Michael Madsen dancing in front of me and I feel as if I’m tied to a chair,and things are probably going to end badly.
Meanwhile, over at Sarah’s blog, the genre wars continue even as most of us profess to be tired of them. (I am simply tired, a condition that I think is going to be more or less chronic for the next two months.) As usual, the word formulaic comes up. I usually have a knee-jerk reaction to that, akin to the Leech Woman and her reaction to youth serum: If there is a formula, and all it involves is a little human sacrifice, then sign me up, baby. I want the formula! I want the formula!
But this morning, I think I get what people are saying when they argue that genre is formulaic. Certain things are implicit in genre, depending on the genre. In a crime novel, answers will be provided (although perhaps not all the answers). The status quo will be restored, but not without a cost. That’s the promise in a mystery/crime novel and books that tried to invert the formula — thinking of NIGHT TRAIN here — still more or less fulfilled the expectations. Does that make writing a mystery novel easier than writing a literary novel? Yes, in some sense. That is — it’s easier to write an adequate version of the crime novel. Hit your marks, solve the puzzle, keep the prose simple and you’re home.
Chandler argued that this was why ordinary crime novels get published, while mediocre literary novels seldom do. I honestly believe that must have changed in the last sixty years because I seem to find plenty of very average literary novels. (Hey, with tens of thousands of novels published every year, I don’t see how every literary novel can be B+ or higher.) I see two tendencies in the anointed literary novels that disappoint me — beautiful, but rather hollow writing, with characters who seem constricted by the author’s allegorical/thematic concerns, and third-act problems.
(I also read lots of literary novels that I adore, and I’m pretty sure THE POST-BIRTHDAY WORLD is going to fall into that category. But I won’t know until the final pages.)
Now, third-act problems are rare in the crime genre. Oh, sometimes the solutions may be a little strained, and some writers cram too much in those final pages, but the genre does provide an edge when it comes to ending. So perhaps this is the elusive formula of which they speak. Now if only someone could direct me to the formula for the other two-thirds, I would be most grateful.
I’m off to the local NPR studio to tape an interview with Liane Hansen of Weekend Edition Sunday. For a certified NPR geek such as myself, this is beyond exciting, and I’ll try not to go fan girl on Hansen. (In interest of full disclosure, I already did go fan girl on Hansen, when I briefly met her at a dinner for E.L. Doctorow.) It’s supposed to air this Sunday, for those who care.
<i>I see two tendencies in the anointed literary novels that disappoint me — beautiful, but rather hollow writing, with characters who seem constricted by the author’s allegorical/thematic concerns, and third-act problems.</i>
I see the same tendencies.
One of the reasons I’m so interested (and opinionated) in the ongoing tempest is that I’m still working it out. Specifically, I’m still working out how to have living characters without a too-lifelike (i.e., directionless) plot, and how to have a strong, robust plot without requiring one-dimensional characters to pull it off.
To me, it’s a reconciliation that may not be possible. Forster mentioned having to know when the plot can “dun the characters for a contribution,” which suggests to me that even he couldn’t work this one through to his complete satisfaction.
The crime genre, whatever else it is sociologically, and whatever else it becomes occasionally because of somebody’s interesting vision, is built on plot. If there’s no crime and no resolution (which may be the very definision of cause-and-effect plotwork), it’s not a mystery.
How does one reconcile this with characters who actually approach lifelikeness, and therefore usually won’t solve a mystery at all, let alone in an interesting way, taking actions that create a third act that brings all the threads back together gracefully and with impact?
Keith,
Have you read The Night Gardener? It gets its genre card punched, so to speak, by offering answers to the many mysteries raised within its pages. (Who killed this young man, is it a serial killer from many years ago?) But the answers are surprising in ways I won’t characterize because that would constitute a spoiler. I will say the book manages to fulfill the expectations raised by such a story, but does it in such a way that it subverts a lot of the very cliches that people associate with genre fiction. One example — there are detectives tortured, beyond reason, by old cases and past mistakes, the ones who long for redemption. These characters are not shown as heroic or noble. They’re not monsters, either. They are just tragically human. The most functional character has a recognizably normal family and marriage.
In most of my books, for a long time now, I have allowed tiny questions to go unanswered. One example — there have been references to a case, the Epstein case, that a police sergeant doesn’t like to discuss. So, it’s never discussed. (Tip of the hat to AGUIRRE, THE WRATH OF GOD, the mystery of the item in the man’s hand.) In the latest one, a man wakes up in bed with a one-night stand and she’s furious with him. Lizzie Skurnick asked me specifically why that was, and I don’t really know, in part because the character didn’t care enough to find out, in the end.
I’m not arguing that leaving small questions unanswered solves the dilemmas you face. Nor do I have any answers just now. Part of the reason that I like writing the police procedurals is that it’s just guys doing their job. Fans of “Homicide,” the show, will remember that one of its greatest episodes was called “THREE MEN AND ADENA,” and while the identity of the killer seemed certain, the case simply couldn’t be made. This mirrored the real-life killing of Latonya Wallace.
Why is it not a surprise that your bloggers are NPR fans? After all, it is the intelligent people who live by that station.
Laura, I understand certified NPR geekdom since I live there, and I will be listening Sunday.
Also an NPR geek. I made my radio debut on Car Talk this past February!
Zelda,
Did they solve your problem?
darn – I thought this was gonna be a post about my favorite movie!(no not the original “Salt of the Earth”, the one that quotes this line – “Return of the Secaucus 7″)
I still wanna get on “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” or if I can’t? Win Carl’s voice on our answering machine.
They did. The mister and I were having a marital dispute. I always put the parking brake on. He contended that during the winter, driving through snow, slush, etc that if I put the parking brake on the whole braking mechanism could freeze up and the next time I took it off, everything would be frozen in place and the car wouldn’t move. I didn’t believe him. Tom and Ray said that theoretically, he is right but for all intents and purposes, it’s never going to happen so I guess it was a draw! I continue to live on the edge and put the brake on every time I park the car.
“it is the intelligent people who live by that station.”
Damn, that’s an elitist statement.
Years ago, Ira Glass observed that there is a large demographic of people who listen to NPR and Howard Stern (back when he was on free radio).
I belong to that demographic. I also am a fairly loyal listener to The Don and Mike Show. (They had a great interview with John Waters just yesterday.)
No, I haven’t read The Night Gardener. I’m not in the position to read novels at the moment, but I’ve heard you speak highly of that one on several occasions, so it’s first against the wall when the revolution comes.
Huh. It’s tempting at the end of the comments here to enter in the public broadcasting debate, but it feels like work. My tied-for-favorite podcast is NPR Books — I only wish they put together the compilation more than once a week — so I look forward to hearing your voice then.