As part of the celebration of The House on the Corner being one year old this week, I've decided to give my book the review treatment. As much as possible, I'm going to approach my book as if it was someone else's book. However, because that's not really possible, I'm going to give you tidbits of information about different aspects of it as I go. Sort of a "how someone else might see it vs. why I did it that way" kind of thing. Also, I hope to show that I can be harsh with my own work, too.
Not that I really think I'm that harsh, but any time you don't tell someone you absolutely love what they've written, you tend to come off as harsh. In fact, if you have a preference for some earlier piece of work someone did over whatever it is s/he's currently working on, you come off as harsh. Anyway... all of that to say that this review business is tricky, so I understand why people decide to (A) not do them at all (B) only give fabulous reviews and 5 stars no matter the quality of the work. However, and I've said this before, I strongly believe in the need for reviews, especially for new authors, so I feel I need to do my part in supporting that by giving them. [Hopefully, that will work its way back around to me some day (although, so far, no such luck (which is not to say that I haven't had any reviews, but... oh, never mind)).] I also don't feel like I can be dishonest (especially with myself) by proclaiming the greatness of something that I didn't think was great. And saying a book was good when you don't really believe it doesn't help anyone, but I've already talked about that (although, I don't remember which post that was), and I digress...
I'm going to start with the grade, this time, rather than working toward it as I normally do. The House on the Corner is in the B+ to A- range. And, yes, this grade is a struggle for me. House is not A+ work. I mean, just this morning while reading in one of the classes I read in, I found a typo (chapter 14), so I haven't worked all of the bugs out of it, yet. However, on the technical merits, House is at least an A. Overall, there are very few "bugs" that still need to be worked out. Although, on this read through, I have noticed a tendency to over use the word "though," which I'm finding annoying. [So much so that I've been trying to pay attention to my actual speech to see if I use it that much when I'm talking or if it's only a writing thing.] However, in comparison to most self-published books (and some (many) professionally edited and traditionally published works) I have far fewer "oopsies" than are generally floating around out there. I think I've done a really nice job on that even if I do tend to use more commas than are strictly necessary (they are still correct, even though most people wouldn't use them (I have a whole post on commas coming up at some point in the future, too, so, really, you don't want to miss that!)).
I don't think a lot of books deserve the A+, and I don't really expect that I will ever write one. Not that I won't try. House is not it, though. So what holds it back?
It's long. Not War and Peace long, but it's long for a "kids' book." I will say, though, that the kids don't seem to have an issue with this. But, aside from being long, it has a slow start. This is a huge barrier to a lot of people. I think people that love books like The Lord of the Rings won't have an issue with the slow start, but, as amazing as it may seem, most people don't love The Lord of the Rings (even if it is considered the most significant work of fiction of the 20th century). Most people have not and will not ever read it. Why? It's too long, and it starts too slowly. If you make it through childhood and haven't read it, it's unlikely that, as an adult, you will ever read it. I'm sure there's a study out there somewhere about that. [Of course, 50% of people never read another book in their life once they finish school (and I know there are studies about that, because I've talked about that before (sorry, I don't remember which post that was, either)).]
Really, though, it's not the length that's the issue, it's the slow start. Of course, there are reasons I have the slow start. One reason is that I hate how the new conventions of "how things should be" in literature include leaving out the exposition and as much of the rising action as you can. Basically, it's all about jumping into the story as close as you can get to the climax and still have it be understandable. I hate that. Jumping into the middle of the action may seem fun and exciting, but it's really just bad story telling. I decided to not take part in bad story telling. I start at the point of conflict, the move, but it's not the middle of the action.
Another reason for the slow start, and, really, the larger reason, is that I wanted all the pieces in place for what I'll call the meta-story. The story beyond the story that's just in this one book. This is going to get a separate post, but one of the things I really hate (despise) in series fiction (and this happens a lot on TV) is when the author(s) throws something new into a story (episode) to satisfy a plot point that, really, we should have known about all along. It's contrived, and I find it annoying (and I really want to use stronger language, but I'm biting my tongue). I get that your (and I'll call it) micro-story has needs, but you should have thought of those needs ahead of time. Don't throw in a secret healing ability because you suddenly "need" it. Think of something else. Basically, if it's something we should have already known about, don't use it. Figure out a way to introduce it and make it part of the story for later use. I mean, this isn't Batman's utility belt we're talking here, and you don't have any good reason to suddenly whip out shark repellent. Other than the old, 60s Batman television series, about the only place this idea works in is James Bond movies, and it only works because the idea is that James Bond can use whatever he happens to have available to get out of the messes he's in. [You might notice, though, that the new Bond doesn't use the whole Q-effect.]
At any rate, I wanted to include as many of the elements from the meta-story as I could in this first micro-story so that it wouldn't seem like some cheap trick when they show up later. I don't want anyone to think, "Wait, why didn't we ever know about that before this?" So, when there are issues with the little stairway going to the side door, that will be important in the meta-story. The books? The books that seem to be so casually thrown in to no purpose: important in the meta-story. Even Dr. Atkinson, who may seem like an unimportant side character that could be dropped, important in the meta-story. These things, which draw out the length of this first book, will already be there when they are needed. This seems to me a more natural way of doing things... well, it will be more natural to the reader when they encounter them..., so I'm willing to make the story a bit longer than is strictly necessary to accommodate that, even if it means that it will fail to hook some readers.
The next drawback is the perspective. I chose an unusual way of telling the story, but it was a conscious choice. Even knowing that it might be difficult for some people, I chose it anyway. As with most things I do, there are multiple reasons:
1. The obvious reason: I have three kids. I was writing this book for them (which is not to say that I was not also writing it for the larger audience, but my primary concern was writing a book they would like. In doing so, I hoped to write a book that all kids would enjoy (and my experience (so far) has shown that to be pretty close to truth)). Because I was writing it for them, I decided to write it about them to a certain extent, so I decided I would give each character (Tom, Sam, and Ruth) their own perspective. This was actually the thing I was most worried about going into the book, that changing the POV between three 1st person perspectives would be too confusing for kids. Ironically, the only people who have struggled with the perspective shifts have been adults.
2. The not-so-obvious reason: The Pigman by Paul Zindel. I'm not sure if this book is really as obscure as it seems to be to me. I had to read it in middle school, and, evidently, it is still widely used in schools, but I've never ever heard mention of it again since then, so I think it must be a book that not many people have heard of. In a lot of ways, it is... unspectacular; however, it's one of the books I've thought back on frequently over the years. It probably deserves a spot on my "Of Significance..." page, and it may get one once I get the copy I just ordered and re-read it. It tells a story from two different 1st person perspectives, and I've never seen that done again since (not saying it hasn't been done since; I just haven't seen it). Until my book. It was the direct influence of The Pigman that lead to my decision to use 1st person for my three characters. I thought it would be interesting to see the story from three different sets of eyes, especially since there is occasional overlap in the story telling.
Some people have struggled with the change in perspective even though it changes by chapter, but, again, it seems to be only adults that have had issues with this. None of the kids I've dealt with around House have had any issue adapting to the changes and have figured them out almost instantly. Still, it's a barrier to some readers and drags my grade down because of it.
To sum all of that up, the first half of the book drags. [Although, I do have to say, it didn't drag for me until I was on my 5th or so read through, but, then, I prefer a slow build.] Nothing big is happening. Yes, they keep discovering new little things, but, other than squabbling amongst themselves, there's no obvious conflict happening. Well, there is the thing with the old man across the street, but that doesn't sustain itself. At any rate, action junkies will grow bored long before they get to "the good stuff." Despite the slow burn, though, I think the payout at the end is worth it.
Also, the perspective changes can be confusing. Yes, I've thought about label the perspective changes with the chapter titles, but, for some reason, I don't like that idea.
So... there's the bad, but what's good about the book?
The most obvious good is that it's set in the 80s. See, although my kids (and kids in general) are my target audience, I didn't want to write a book that was just targeted at kids. I wanted to write a book that parents could also relate to and enjoy. Part of doing that was a desire to evoke images of their own childhoods. Part of that is done through 80s pop culture, so that's a pretty narrow audience, just adults that are my age. But, hey, the 80s were fun (except for the nuclear fears), and I wanted to give my kids (and others) a bit of a taste of 80s culture, so that's where I set it. Hopefully, I have enough parent/child interaction to give all parents something to relate to, not just those of us that grew up in the 80s.
The real positive about House is that I don't follow many of the normal conventions for this kind of story. At least, I see that as a positive. One of the things my wife is always complaining about with fantasy literature (and this extends to Star Wars) is the orphan boy syndrome. [You can see this most recently in Harry Potter (and Percy Jackson).] You know, orphan boy discovers he has a previously unknown heritage (being a wizard or, um, the son of Darth Vader) and, often, is part of some prophecy and only he can defeat the ultimate evil (the ultimate evil that is usually the one responsible for the death of his parents). After coming to grips with the loss of his parents which has haunted him his whole life. This is the formula for fantasy story telling. I didn't want to do that (mostly because, if I did, my wife would ridicule me forever and ever and probably would never have read my book).
The other part of that is that the motivation for doing the right thing becomes about getting revenge, and I wanted a story about someone choosing to do the right thing for the mere sake that it is the right thing. Not because the protagonist is trying to avenge his parents' deaths or anything like that. I wanted characters that choose the right because it's the right. No other motivation than that. I think it's important that kids (especially) see that doing the right thing can be its own motivation. No revenge. No guilt. No ulterior motive. Not that there aren't struggles and mistakes, I want it to be real, but I also want the normal, average kid that lives in some sort of family to be able to identify with the kids. In other words, I wanted something closer to the Pevensies but with the parents involved in the story. I think this approach has resonated with the readers.
So...
The House on the Corner is well above average. It's not great, but it is quite good. I'm happy with quite good. It's good enough that, even though I wrote it, I'm still not tired of it or impatient with it while reading out loud in the classes I'm reading it in. I think I'm on something like my 7th time run through, too, not including my own readings of it, so it has some good staying power. I still come across things that make me laugh. Even though I wrote them. And even though I've repeated them over and over in these readings.
And there you have it. My (mostly) objective look at my own book. Sure, there are things that could be improved, but, overall, it's a lot better than the average book out there on the bookshelf. No, it's not Harry Potter. I'm not as clever or as witty as Rowling, but I do know how to tell a good story. And, honestly, I think any amount of slowness in this first one will be completely overlooked when I finish with Brother's Keeper. There's no set up involved in that one, and things are happening right from the start.
Showing posts with label Narnia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Narnia. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The Cliche Monster
Face it, we all fear and hate the Cliche Monster. All of us. It doesn't matter if you're a writer or not, no one wants to fall into a category. No one wants to be a cliche. At least, not post-high school. During high school, I think about 95% of people want to be a cliche of some sort or another. We even had a group of guys, yes, guys, in my high school that was referred to as the "dime-a-dozen" group. At some point, though, we pass through that stage into the stage where we all hold some inane belief of our own individuality: "We're all individuals!" Except this guy: "I'm not!"
Yes, I do believe it's inane. If it wasn't inane, marketing wouldn't work so well and there wouldn't be demographics. But, face it, most of us, nearly all of us, fall neatly into some demographic or another. A cliche.
It's kind of a funny story:
When my brother was in high school, he went through his "rebel" phase. It would make me laugh. He'd come into my room with his ripped jeans or whatever else and boast to me about how much of a rebel he was, because he was going to go to church like that. I tried to explain to him on more than one occasion that by doing his whole rebel thing, he was just fitting into the whole rebel mold and, therefore, was being the exact opposite of rebellious. He was just fitting the image of the rebel, and, when you're striving to fit an image, you can't be being a rebel. He never got it.
However, I think writers may fear the Cliche Monster more so than your average joe. I mean, there is no greater horror than to have your work labeled as cliche. Typical. Fitting the mold of your genre. Maybe that's why there are so many cross-genre works coming out right now... people trying new ways to not be cliche while falling into the trap of not being cliche in the same way that everyone else is trying to not be cliche. Just like my brother.
Let me just say, right now, that the Cliche Monster is not so fearsome as everyone thinks it is. He's not a ravening beast out to devour your soul and your creative work, but he's actually kind of cuddly. Sort of like Sully from Monsters, Inc. Sure, he can be all fearsome and stuff, but he doesn't have to be.
I see you all out there, right now, dropping your jaws at me and thinking that I'm crazy or that I've lost it. Don't get me wrong, I hate the whole cliche thing, too. Just like everyone else, I think I'm a pretty unique individual. Except, in my case, I know it's true. (heh) And I do it without even trying. (double heh) Which is the best way to be unique.
But, wait, if I'm going on about how unique I am, why am I saying it isn't so bad to fit in. To be a cog. To be a regular, old round peg in a regular, old round hole. Not like the not-even-square peg that I proclaim in the title of my blog?
Let me tell you a story:
When I was in 4th grade, I ran out of school. The problem was that there were still two more years to go in elementary school, but they had nothing left to teach me. It was an interesting situation, because there were three of us like that in the school, and we were all the same age, same class. They had to transfer us to a different school with special classes for smart kids. They called us "gifted and talented," and we got to be in a class full of other kids like us from all over the Parish (because that's what they call counties in Louisiana), and we had a brand, new sparkly teacher. I sort of think, now, that this was the first year they had done this sort of thing, because it was my teacher's first year being a "gifted" teacher, and it was a new program that was being tested (new to the whole country, not just Louisiana, which is a bit ironic considering that Louisiana was 49th in education at the time (but, maybe, they thought they had nothing to lose in Louisiana because of that)). She used to say to us all of the time that she was not a gifted teacher, as everyone called her, but just a normal teacher of the gifted.
She was wrong. She was a gifted teacher. We had her for 5th and 6th grades, and she, along with the science teacher they brought in for us for 6th grade (who worked part time for NASA (how cool is that? (in fact, he was one of the guys that was involved in setting up Space Camp (how even more cool is that?))), changed my life. Opened my eyes. Challenged me in ways that I had never been challenged. In fact, it was in this class that I really learned about reading. Not that I didn't read prior, because I did, but it was in this Gateway class that I really discovered the breadth and scope of books. Something I hadn't really known before as I was completely satisfied with my Hardy Boys books. But, really, that's beside the point.
Anyway... my teacher taught kindergarten when she first started teaching. She said she didn't want to be one of those cliche kindergarten teachers that had the same old, same old clowns and balloons and stuff on the walls year after year. She didn't want to be boring. She wanted her classroom to be unique and original. Not just in general but every year. So the first year she taught, she came up with a theme and decorated her room around that theme, and it was great! The second year, she thought of a new theme and re-did her classroom, and that was great!
After a few years of that, thinking of new themes became a challenge. Having something new and fresh became more and more of a challenge. And that's when she had an epiphany. Although having the same thing in the room year after year might get boring for her, it wouldn't be boring for her students. Every year, they were new students, and, therefore, it didn't matter how she decorated the room, because it was new to the students. Each year, it was their first time to experience it. Especially since she had kindergartners. Nothing she ever had in her room would be cliche to them, because it was a brand new experience every year. So it was clowns. And she left it that way.
[Actually, I don't remember that it was clowns, specifically, but I do remember clowns coming up in that conversation, so it's a good enough example. Don't anyone go all ballistic over the clowns.]
The lesson here is that she embraced the cliche and used it. Turned the ravening beast she'd been fighting into something cuddly. It's an important lesson, and it's stayed with me for three decades.
Let me give you another example:
My introduction to fantasy writing came through Piers Anthony. Not that he was the first fantasy I read, but it was Anthony that prompted me to delve into fantasy for the first time. Anthony lead me to David Eddings and The Belgariad. The Belgariad is one of the absolute best fantasy series I've ever read. Probably second only to Tolkien. The catch? It's completely cliche. Completely. And it was on purpose.
Setting out to write the adventures of Garion, Eddings decided he was going to do an experiment by writing what would be a conventional fantasy novel. Literally, he took all the conventions and worked them into his story. Here's a sample of a check list of the types of things he included:
It's a coming of age story about a boy.
The boy is an orphan.
The boy has a heritage he doesn't know about.
The boy has powers he has yet to discover.
There is a prophecy about the boy.
There is a princess fated to the boy.
There is a party of adventurers. One of them is a scoundrel.
Do you see where that's going? Eddings looked at what was cliche about fantasy, and he embraced it, and he wrote one of the most magical fantasy stories ever. The characters are great. The writing and dialogue are superb. If you like fantasy, it's hard not to like The Belgariad. Even if you know going in that it's designed to encompass everything that's common to the fantasy genre. It is the definition of cliche, but Eddings made it work in a way that I've never seen done by anyone else, and I can't help but suspect it's because he did it on purpose.
Here's the thing: your story... it's not original. My story... it's not original either. No one's story is. Sure, sometimes, you get elements put together in new ways, but, really, none of the... stuff... none of the elements... are new. As Bono says, "Every artist is a thief."
I see people stressing all the time about finding out someone else has already written the story they have in their head or have halfway finished or, even, all the way finished. They find out someone else wrote something that is too close to their story for their comfort, so they shelve their story. Give up on it. "There's no way I can pursue this, because it's already been done." That... that is a mistake. Everything has already been done. If you let that stop you, you'll never write anything.
Take a look back up at that list. That's just a tiny bit of what could be a full list of conventions in fantasy writing, but how many of those apply to Harry Potter? Let's see:
It's a coming of age story about a boy.
The boy is an orphan.
The boy has a heritage he doesn't know about.
The boy has powers he has yet to discover.
There is a prophecy about the boy.
I could even make a case about the party of adventurers with Fred and George being the scoundrels. Does anyone think of Rowling's work as being cliche? Not that I've ever heard. But, yet, there it is. Cliche. But she makes it work.
I'm not going to lie, there are some cliche elements in my book The House on the Corner. Some of them, I even chose on purpose. There are some very Narnia things, because I wanted it to have some very Narnia things. There is a sword not quite in a stone, because I wanted there to be a sword not quite in a stone. I wanted those elements in the book. I wanted something of the familiar there, the things that resonate with us and bring us back to our childhoods or awaken dreams in us as children.
Look... here's what I'm saying: stop stressing over being original. Things that are really original don't come along very often, and they usually don't happen because someone is trying to be original. They usually just happen. Acknowledge that the story you have has been told in some form before. Acknowledge it, and do it anyway. Just because that story's already been told, doesn't mean you can't write a great story. If Rowling had looked at her Potter story and said, "oh, geez, that's been done before" and just given up...? Well... can you imagine, now, a world without Potter?
Tell your story. Tell it the best way you know how. Don't worry about whether it's been done before. It has. Go ahead and do it anyway.
Yes, I do believe it's inane. If it wasn't inane, marketing wouldn't work so well and there wouldn't be demographics. But, face it, most of us, nearly all of us, fall neatly into some demographic or another. A cliche.
It's kind of a funny story:
When my brother was in high school, he went through his "rebel" phase. It would make me laugh. He'd come into my room with his ripped jeans or whatever else and boast to me about how much of a rebel he was, because he was going to go to church like that. I tried to explain to him on more than one occasion that by doing his whole rebel thing, he was just fitting into the whole rebel mold and, therefore, was being the exact opposite of rebellious. He was just fitting the image of the rebel, and, when you're striving to fit an image, you can't be being a rebel. He never got it.
However, I think writers may fear the Cliche Monster more so than your average joe. I mean, there is no greater horror than to have your work labeled as cliche. Typical. Fitting the mold of your genre. Maybe that's why there are so many cross-genre works coming out right now... people trying new ways to not be cliche while falling into the trap of not being cliche in the same way that everyone else is trying to not be cliche. Just like my brother.
Let me just say, right now, that the Cliche Monster is not so fearsome as everyone thinks it is. He's not a ravening beast out to devour your soul and your creative work, but he's actually kind of cuddly. Sort of like Sully from Monsters, Inc. Sure, he can be all fearsome and stuff, but he doesn't have to be.
I see you all out there, right now, dropping your jaws at me and thinking that I'm crazy or that I've lost it. Don't get me wrong, I hate the whole cliche thing, too. Just like everyone else, I think I'm a pretty unique individual. Except, in my case, I know it's true. (heh) And I do it without even trying. (double heh) Which is the best way to be unique.
But, wait, if I'm going on about how unique I am, why am I saying it isn't so bad to fit in. To be a cog. To be a regular, old round peg in a regular, old round hole. Not like the not-even-square peg that I proclaim in the title of my blog?
Let me tell you a story:
When I was in 4th grade, I ran out of school. The problem was that there were still two more years to go in elementary school, but they had nothing left to teach me. It was an interesting situation, because there were three of us like that in the school, and we were all the same age, same class. They had to transfer us to a different school with special classes for smart kids. They called us "gifted and talented," and we got to be in a class full of other kids like us from all over the Parish (because that's what they call counties in Louisiana), and we had a brand, new sparkly teacher. I sort of think, now, that this was the first year they had done this sort of thing, because it was my teacher's first year being a "gifted" teacher, and it was a new program that was being tested (new to the whole country, not just Louisiana, which is a bit ironic considering that Louisiana was 49th in education at the time (but, maybe, they thought they had nothing to lose in Louisiana because of that)). She used to say to us all of the time that she was not a gifted teacher, as everyone called her, but just a normal teacher of the gifted.
She was wrong. She was a gifted teacher. We had her for 5th and 6th grades, and she, along with the science teacher they brought in for us for 6th grade (who worked part time for NASA (how cool is that? (in fact, he was one of the guys that was involved in setting up Space Camp (how even more cool is that?))), changed my life. Opened my eyes. Challenged me in ways that I had never been challenged. In fact, it was in this class that I really learned about reading. Not that I didn't read prior, because I did, but it was in this Gateway class that I really discovered the breadth and scope of books. Something I hadn't really known before as I was completely satisfied with my Hardy Boys books. But, really, that's beside the point.
Anyway... my teacher taught kindergarten when she first started teaching. She said she didn't want to be one of those cliche kindergarten teachers that had the same old, same old clowns and balloons and stuff on the walls year after year. She didn't want to be boring. She wanted her classroom to be unique and original. Not just in general but every year. So the first year she taught, she came up with a theme and decorated her room around that theme, and it was great! The second year, she thought of a new theme and re-did her classroom, and that was great!
After a few years of that, thinking of new themes became a challenge. Having something new and fresh became more and more of a challenge. And that's when she had an epiphany. Although having the same thing in the room year after year might get boring for her, it wouldn't be boring for her students. Every year, they were new students, and, therefore, it didn't matter how she decorated the room, because it was new to the students. Each year, it was their first time to experience it. Especially since she had kindergartners. Nothing she ever had in her room would be cliche to them, because it was a brand new experience every year. So it was clowns. And she left it that way.
[Actually, I don't remember that it was clowns, specifically, but I do remember clowns coming up in that conversation, so it's a good enough example. Don't anyone go all ballistic over the clowns.]
The lesson here is that she embraced the cliche and used it. Turned the ravening beast she'd been fighting into something cuddly. It's an important lesson, and it's stayed with me for three decades.
Let me give you another example:
My introduction to fantasy writing came through Piers Anthony. Not that he was the first fantasy I read, but it was Anthony that prompted me to delve into fantasy for the first time. Anthony lead me to David Eddings and The Belgariad. The Belgariad is one of the absolute best fantasy series I've ever read. Probably second only to Tolkien. The catch? It's completely cliche. Completely. And it was on purpose.
Setting out to write the adventures of Garion, Eddings decided he was going to do an experiment by writing what would be a conventional fantasy novel. Literally, he took all the conventions and worked them into his story. Here's a sample of a check list of the types of things he included:
It's a coming of age story about a boy.
The boy is an orphan.
The boy has a heritage he doesn't know about.
The boy has powers he has yet to discover.
There is a prophecy about the boy.
There is a princess fated to the boy.
There is a party of adventurers. One of them is a scoundrel.
Do you see where that's going? Eddings looked at what was cliche about fantasy, and he embraced it, and he wrote one of the most magical fantasy stories ever. The characters are great. The writing and dialogue are superb. If you like fantasy, it's hard not to like The Belgariad. Even if you know going in that it's designed to encompass everything that's common to the fantasy genre. It is the definition of cliche, but Eddings made it work in a way that I've never seen done by anyone else, and I can't help but suspect it's because he did it on purpose.
Here's the thing: your story... it's not original. My story... it's not original either. No one's story is. Sure, sometimes, you get elements put together in new ways, but, really, none of the... stuff... none of the elements... are new. As Bono says, "Every artist is a thief."
I see people stressing all the time about finding out someone else has already written the story they have in their head or have halfway finished or, even, all the way finished. They find out someone else wrote something that is too close to their story for their comfort, so they shelve their story. Give up on it. "There's no way I can pursue this, because it's already been done." That... that is a mistake. Everything has already been done. If you let that stop you, you'll never write anything.
Take a look back up at that list. That's just a tiny bit of what could be a full list of conventions in fantasy writing, but how many of those apply to Harry Potter? Let's see:
It's a coming of age story about a boy.
The boy is an orphan.
The boy has a heritage he doesn't know about.
The boy has powers he has yet to discover.
There is a prophecy about the boy.
I could even make a case about the party of adventurers with Fred and George being the scoundrels. Does anyone think of Rowling's work as being cliche? Not that I've ever heard. But, yet, there it is. Cliche. But she makes it work.
I'm not going to lie, there are some cliche elements in my book The House on the Corner. Some of them, I even chose on purpose. There are some very Narnia things, because I wanted it to have some very Narnia things. There is a sword not quite in a stone, because I wanted there to be a sword not quite in a stone. I wanted those elements in the book. I wanted something of the familiar there, the things that resonate with us and bring us back to our childhoods or awaken dreams in us as children.
Look... here's what I'm saying: stop stressing over being original. Things that are really original don't come along very often, and they usually don't happen because someone is trying to be original. They usually just happen. Acknowledge that the story you have has been told in some form before. Acknowledge it, and do it anyway. Just because that story's already been told, doesn't mean you can't write a great story. If Rowling had looked at her Potter story and said, "oh, geez, that's been done before" and just given up...? Well... can you imagine, now, a world without Potter?
Tell your story. Tell it the best way you know how. Don't worry about whether it's been done before. It has. Go ahead and do it anyway.
Monday, July 18, 2011
"Danger, Will Robinson!" pt. 5: Starting in the Middle
Okay, it's time for a little bit of controversy!
Maybe, a lot bit.
My educational experience was not typical. Of course, at the time, I didn't realize how not typical it was since it was all public education. I went through this thing called the Gateway Program for Gifted and Talented children (starting in elementary school). To complicate matters, I also went to a (public) high school for smart kids (middle school, too). As my brother used to say, not only did I go to Nerd school, but I was one of the top nerds at Nerd school since the Gateway program had specially accelerated classes in a school that was already accelerated. I only bring all of this up because I was exposed to some things in school that, evidently, are not generally taught.
Like plot structure.
As early as 5th grade, I was learning the details of plot structure in my English classes. As far as I can tell, this is not something that's generally taught in the regular public school system (anywhere). I asked my about-to-be-a-sophomore about this the other day, and he told me they learned that stories should have a beginning, a middle, and an ending. From what I've gathered, I'm almost surprised they went into that much detail, since it seems to be a topic that isn't really discussed before college level. And not much in college. I have a BA in English, and I covered more on the aspects of writing before I got to college than I ever did while I was there.
For just a moment, before we get into the heart of all of this, take a little ride with me. It's a roller coaster ride, so get yourself ready.
Since you're all my VIP guests, we're going to skip the line. This time. This is the stuff you should leave out of your plot. Although there can be some entertaining stuff during the wait in line, you spend most of the time saying, "this line is sooo long," "this is so boring," and "how much longer is the wait?" You don't want the riders on your roller coaster saying these kinds of things about your work. Let me put this another way, this is stuff that's not essential to the story.
So we're getting on the roller coaster having skipped the line. Getting our seats, getting strapped in, and waiting for everyone else to get strapped in. This is the exposition of our ride. Here's the thing, many people consider this part boring, too, but this is the time we establish the essentials of our plot. Characters. Setting. Conflict. This is the basis for our ride. It prepares us for the journey and keeps the riders safe. You don't, after all, want any one to fall out. Remember, we may be required to sit for a few moments while the operator checks everything and gets the coaster going, but this time is important. This is when you start anticipating the ride. What will it be like? Will it be scary? Will the person in front of me puke? This is stuff that is essential to your story.
Eventually, the coaster begins to move, and we enter the rising action. During this phase of our journey, our anticipation builds. Sometimes, there are unexpected turns. Sometimes, there are sudden dips, and we race down for a moment, but we know we haven't reached the "big one," yet, because we can still see that high hill rising above us. Sometimes, we're plunged into darkness by entering a tunnel, and we don't have any idea what's going on around us (for those of you that like to keep your readers in the dark). Still, through all of this, we continue to go up and up.
The ride's been fun, but, finally, we are on that last ascent. The rest of the track fades away beneath us. We grip tight to the hand bar, or, possibly, raise our hands, depending upon how brave (or foolhardy) we are. We begin to hear the screams of the people at the front, and we clamp our jaws in final anticipation as we arrive at the climax. Our stomachs lurch as the coaster drops beneath us, dragging us into a rushing descent of falling action.
The coaster glides through it's final approach, our denouement (or resolution), slowing us down until we reach the point of departure and get off. We begin to talk about how great the ride was or, possibly, how lame it was. "Did you see that second turn coming? I totally did!" "I was completely caught off guard by that dip into the tunnel." "That last turn before the last hill was so cool!" Things like that. Hopefully, no one is saying "the whole thing sucked."
Where, in all of this, is the problem? The controversy?
We have a culture, here in the States, of instant gratification. Maybe that attitude is everywhere, at this point; I don't know (I don't live everywhere). We don't want to wait for anything. Why should we? Like Veruca Salt, we want it NOW! All of us. All the time. This is destroying the way books are written. Yes, I'm saying it. It's destroying the way books are written. The one thing I see most repeated blog after blog is this "rule" of writing. I see it on agent blogs everywhere. Constantly. Most unfortunately, I see unpublished writers pummeling each other over the head with this all the time. The holy mantra of the writing community: Start in the middle of the action.
I'm here to tell you, right now, that rule is wrong. That rule says that we should not only get to skip the line to the roller coaster but that we should also get to skip the exposition and much if not all of the rising action. We should be dropped suddenly into our seats just moments before the we get to that last climb. It's wrong. But we have a whole generation of writers who are listening to this bad advice.
In my last Danger post (read it here), I talked about the whole "flash forward" thing that's been happening in TV shows (and, to a lesser extent, movies). This is a direct response to the whole "start in the middle of the action" thing. It doesn't breed better TV shows. It's completely about catching the viewers interest so they'll sit and watch. In short, it's about the money. That's what the whole "rule" is about. Money. Publishers know that when people are flipping through books trying to decide what to buy, they often glance at the first few pages. They're trying to hook the reader into buying regardless of the quality of the story. It's a short term view of writing, and it's bad.
Don't get me wrong, it sounds so logical. When I first started doing my blogging thing and started seeing this idea thrown around, I was initially taken in, too. I mean, sure, yeah, start in the middle of the action. Leave out the boring stuff. It sounds so reasonable. Just give readers the stuff they want to read. At this point, though, that comes across to me as "give the readers junk food." Seriously, if we let kids eat what they want to eat, how many of them would ever eat veggies? And based on the growing numbers of childhood obesity cases, how many parents are really doing the work of making sure their kids are eating right?
I hear what you're saying. But reading is good! Shouldn't we promote reading at all costs? Even if it means starting in the middle of the action? At least, they're reading, right? Sure, yeah, that's true. To an extent. However, I'm going to point at two of the most beloved series of all time: The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter. Neither of these series resorts to "starting in the middle of the action." They both have a very significant exposition stage which moves smoothly into rising action. I would say it's that quality that causes us to love those books so much. Sure, we enjoy other books. Books that jump right into it. But we go back again and again to Potter and the Pevensies.
The problem in all of this is that we, as unpublished writers, tend to listen to agents. Agents listen to publishers. The publishers, at least the big ones, only listen to money. Especially right now while the publishing world is in such chaos. They want books that will grab the readers right there on the first page and make them want to buy it just like those TV shows that start at the end and then flash "48 hours earlier" on the screen. I hate it. All of it. This manipulation of writers and readers for the monetary gain of the publisher. It doesn't promote good reading, and it certainly doesn't promote good writing. In fact, it forces the writer to sacrifice the integrity of his/her story for the gain of the publisher.
Here's what brought this all home for me and opened my eyes to the extent of this problem:
We have required reading in our family. Before you say anything, that's a topic for another time. It's like getting kids to eat their vegetables. At first, you have to make them do it. At this point, we're still working on my daughter, but that's beside the point. Although, my boys love to read, they are pretty satisfied to just read what they like. However, I think it's good for them to try new things. A few months ago, I came across my old copy of Treasure Island. It's a great book. I loved that book when I was a kid, and it's a classic, so I thought it would be a good book for my younger boy (middle child) to try out (because the oldest is reading The Lord of the Rings (his choice, not a parent suggestion)). We struggled with that book for weeks. Seriously, it took him, like, two weeks to get to the second chapter. I just couldn't understand it.
I did what I could. I encouraged him to keep working on it while he was reading other stuff. I told him how much I had enjoyed the book as a kid. I also explained to him that he needed to give the book a chance. Just because a book doesn't grab you on the first page, or, even, in the first chapter, doesn't mean it's a bad book. We also had several long talks about trying new things, which is a conversation we have to have frequently (several times a week) in dealing with food, and expanding horizons.
It took him a while, but, by chapter four, I found him picking up Treasure Island without any prompting. When he finished it, he actually thanked me for making him read it after grudgingly acknowledging that he'd really enjoyed it. (He hates admitting to liking something that he has sworn is gross. You should see him trying to figure out how to ask for more of some food that he's spent the previous half hour declaring that he hates.) That was the moment, the moment when he said, "Thanks for making me read that, Dad," that I realized what a wrong thing we are doing in climbing on the bandwagon with all the "start in the middle of the action" supporters.
Treasure Island is not a book that would find publication today. At least, not in the form that it's currently in. I imagine publishers today would want to skip right to boarding the ship or, possibly, even to the point where Jim is in the apple barrel. We would never meet the Captain, the spectral figure of old blind Pew (who forms the basis for more characters in modern fiction than I can count), or witness the horrifying delivery of the Black Spot. Well, maybe in flashback, but that just wouldn't deliver the same impact. Kidnapped, also by Robert Louis Stevenson, is more action packed than Treasure Island, and I remember loving it. Loving it way more than Island. However, I can't remember anything else about Kidnapped, just that I loved it. The images from Treasure Island have stayed with me my whole life so carefully crafted are they. Being his first novel, the fact that Treasure Island would be considered unpublishable would have likely killed his entire career. Can you imagine if he had never made it to the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?
The horrifying fact is that if we applied this idea of starting in the middle of the action to most of the books we consider classics, we would mangle them and diminish them. Harry Potter would likely lose chapters; my guess would be a beginning not before he is boarding the train to Hogwarts. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe wouldn't start before all the children journeyed into Narnia together to immediately discover Tumnus' wrecked cave. And The Hobbit? Probably where he's racing to join the dwarves at the Green Dragon. Certainly not before that. I could go on, but I'm sure you get the idea.
There's nothing wrong, specifically, with starting a book in the middle of the action if that's how you, the author, want to do it. The problem is with the insistence that that is the way to do it. The insistence that that is how you write a better book. It's not how you write a better book. It may be how you sell more books (in the short run), but it's not how you get better books from authors. Good books have complete plots, and that includes an exposition.
The greatest danger, though, is that this style of writing, starting mid-action and making the reader sort of catch up as s/he goes, is teaching the current generation of young readers to live on the equivalent of literary fast food. It's quick. It's easy. There's no work required. There's no work, because there's no substance. Nothing to actually digest. It dissolves just like cotton candy. That's probably why I disliked the first Percy Jackson so much (the only one I've read). The book just has no substance. The movie had more substance to it than the book, which is an oddity, but it's probably why I enjoyed the movie. I kept expecting more from the book, but it never delivered.
Personally, I want my work to have substance. Cotton candy is great once a year at the fair, but I don't want to try and live off of it. I feel like we're allowing our kids to do so when we cave to the demands of agents and publishers to stick to just the portions of the story that move the plot forward. Keep to the action. Seriously? That would mean no Fred and George Weasley, who are my favorite characters from Harry Potter. They rarely move the plot forward, but they are a whole lot of fun. No Beorn. No Tom Bombadil. Again, I could go on.
Let's look back at our roller coaster for just a moment. The power of discernment, as the author, comes in knowing when we leave the line and board the roller coaster. Yes, you do want to cut out the sections that are just waiting in line, but you do want to keep the parts that are the beginning of the ride. Even if the ride starts slow. As the author, you get to choose that. Yes, this bit is slow moving, but it's essential to what's going to happen later. Even if it's only essential in that it ties us to the characters, gives us a connection to them. There's nothing worse than a reader not having an emotional investment in your character(s), than just not caring what happens to them. That's what allows a reader to set your book down and say, "You know what? I just don't care." When you don't give the reader a chance to bond with your characters through a strong exposition, this is what you risk. At that point, your hope is to zip the reader through quickly enough that they never realize they didn't care what happened.
This is what it comes down to for me:
Francis Bacon said, "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested."
I want to write books that need to be chewed and digested. That beg to be chewed and digested. Heck, I'd settle for writing books that just need to be swallowed. Publishers don't care about any of that. They just need books that will be tasted. Quick and easy. And forgotten. They want readers to keep tasting book after book. That's how they make their money. If that's all you want as a writer, though, agents (and publishers) give good advice, and you should certainly go that route. Being tasted is just not what I aspire to.
Or, maybe, I'm just contrary.
That's always a possibility.
Maybe, a lot bit.
My educational experience was not typical. Of course, at the time, I didn't realize how not typical it was since it was all public education. I went through this thing called the Gateway Program for Gifted and Talented children (starting in elementary school). To complicate matters, I also went to a (public) high school for smart kids (middle school, too). As my brother used to say, not only did I go to Nerd school, but I was one of the top nerds at Nerd school since the Gateway program had specially accelerated classes in a school that was already accelerated. I only bring all of this up because I was exposed to some things in school that, evidently, are not generally taught.
Like plot structure.
As early as 5th grade, I was learning the details of plot structure in my English classes. As far as I can tell, this is not something that's generally taught in the regular public school system (anywhere). I asked my about-to-be-a-sophomore about this the other day, and he told me they learned that stories should have a beginning, a middle, and an ending. From what I've gathered, I'm almost surprised they went into that much detail, since it seems to be a topic that isn't really discussed before college level. And not much in college. I have a BA in English, and I covered more on the aspects of writing before I got to college than I ever did while I was there.
For just a moment, before we get into the heart of all of this, take a little ride with me. It's a roller coaster ride, so get yourself ready.
Since you're all my VIP guests, we're going to skip the line. This time. This is the stuff you should leave out of your plot. Although there can be some entertaining stuff during the wait in line, you spend most of the time saying, "this line is sooo long," "this is so boring," and "how much longer is the wait?" You don't want the riders on your roller coaster saying these kinds of things about your work. Let me put this another way, this is stuff that's not essential to the story.
So we're getting on the roller coaster having skipped the line. Getting our seats, getting strapped in, and waiting for everyone else to get strapped in. This is the exposition of our ride. Here's the thing, many people consider this part boring, too, but this is the time we establish the essentials of our plot. Characters. Setting. Conflict. This is the basis for our ride. It prepares us for the journey and keeps the riders safe. You don't, after all, want any one to fall out. Remember, we may be required to sit for a few moments while the operator checks everything and gets the coaster going, but this time is important. This is when you start anticipating the ride. What will it be like? Will it be scary? Will the person in front of me puke? This is stuff that is essential to your story.
Eventually, the coaster begins to move, and we enter the rising action. During this phase of our journey, our anticipation builds. Sometimes, there are unexpected turns. Sometimes, there are sudden dips, and we race down for a moment, but we know we haven't reached the "big one," yet, because we can still see that high hill rising above us. Sometimes, we're plunged into darkness by entering a tunnel, and we don't have any idea what's going on around us (for those of you that like to keep your readers in the dark). Still, through all of this, we continue to go up and up.
The ride's been fun, but, finally, we are on that last ascent. The rest of the track fades away beneath us. We grip tight to the hand bar, or, possibly, raise our hands, depending upon how brave (or foolhardy) we are. We begin to hear the screams of the people at the front, and we clamp our jaws in final anticipation as we arrive at the climax. Our stomachs lurch as the coaster drops beneath us, dragging us into a rushing descent of falling action.
The coaster glides through it's final approach, our denouement (or resolution), slowing us down until we reach the point of departure and get off. We begin to talk about how great the ride was or, possibly, how lame it was. "Did you see that second turn coming? I totally did!" "I was completely caught off guard by that dip into the tunnel." "That last turn before the last hill was so cool!" Things like that. Hopefully, no one is saying "the whole thing sucked."
Where, in all of this, is the problem? The controversy?
We have a culture, here in the States, of instant gratification. Maybe that attitude is everywhere, at this point; I don't know (I don't live everywhere). We don't want to wait for anything. Why should we? Like Veruca Salt, we want it NOW! All of us. All the time. This is destroying the way books are written. Yes, I'm saying it. It's destroying the way books are written. The one thing I see most repeated blog after blog is this "rule" of writing. I see it on agent blogs everywhere. Constantly. Most unfortunately, I see unpublished writers pummeling each other over the head with this all the time. The holy mantra of the writing community: Start in the middle of the action.
I'm here to tell you, right now, that rule is wrong. That rule says that we should not only get to skip the line to the roller coaster but that we should also get to skip the exposition and much if not all of the rising action. We should be dropped suddenly into our seats just moments before the we get to that last climb. It's wrong. But we have a whole generation of writers who are listening to this bad advice.
In my last Danger post (read it here), I talked about the whole "flash forward" thing that's been happening in TV shows (and, to a lesser extent, movies). This is a direct response to the whole "start in the middle of the action" thing. It doesn't breed better TV shows. It's completely about catching the viewers interest so they'll sit and watch. In short, it's about the money. That's what the whole "rule" is about. Money. Publishers know that when people are flipping through books trying to decide what to buy, they often glance at the first few pages. They're trying to hook the reader into buying regardless of the quality of the story. It's a short term view of writing, and it's bad.
Don't get me wrong, it sounds so logical. When I first started doing my blogging thing and started seeing this idea thrown around, I was initially taken in, too. I mean, sure, yeah, start in the middle of the action. Leave out the boring stuff. It sounds so reasonable. Just give readers the stuff they want to read. At this point, though, that comes across to me as "give the readers junk food." Seriously, if we let kids eat what they want to eat, how many of them would ever eat veggies? And based on the growing numbers of childhood obesity cases, how many parents are really doing the work of making sure their kids are eating right?
I hear what you're saying. But reading is good! Shouldn't we promote reading at all costs? Even if it means starting in the middle of the action? At least, they're reading, right? Sure, yeah, that's true. To an extent. However, I'm going to point at two of the most beloved series of all time: The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter. Neither of these series resorts to "starting in the middle of the action." They both have a very significant exposition stage which moves smoothly into rising action. I would say it's that quality that causes us to love those books so much. Sure, we enjoy other books. Books that jump right into it. But we go back again and again to Potter and the Pevensies.
The problem in all of this is that we, as unpublished writers, tend to listen to agents. Agents listen to publishers. The publishers, at least the big ones, only listen to money. Especially right now while the publishing world is in such chaos. They want books that will grab the readers right there on the first page and make them want to buy it just like those TV shows that start at the end and then flash "48 hours earlier" on the screen. I hate it. All of it. This manipulation of writers and readers for the monetary gain of the publisher. It doesn't promote good reading, and it certainly doesn't promote good writing. In fact, it forces the writer to sacrifice the integrity of his/her story for the gain of the publisher.
Here's what brought this all home for me and opened my eyes to the extent of this problem:
We have required reading in our family. Before you say anything, that's a topic for another time. It's like getting kids to eat their vegetables. At first, you have to make them do it. At this point, we're still working on my daughter, but that's beside the point. Although, my boys love to read, they are pretty satisfied to just read what they like. However, I think it's good for them to try new things. A few months ago, I came across my old copy of Treasure Island. It's a great book. I loved that book when I was a kid, and it's a classic, so I thought it would be a good book for my younger boy (middle child) to try out (because the oldest is reading The Lord of the Rings (his choice, not a parent suggestion)). We struggled with that book for weeks. Seriously, it took him, like, two weeks to get to the second chapter. I just couldn't understand it.
I did what I could. I encouraged him to keep working on it while he was reading other stuff. I told him how much I had enjoyed the book as a kid. I also explained to him that he needed to give the book a chance. Just because a book doesn't grab you on the first page, or, even, in the first chapter, doesn't mean it's a bad book. We also had several long talks about trying new things, which is a conversation we have to have frequently (several times a week) in dealing with food, and expanding horizons.
It took him a while, but, by chapter four, I found him picking up Treasure Island without any prompting. When he finished it, he actually thanked me for making him read it after grudgingly acknowledging that he'd really enjoyed it. (He hates admitting to liking something that he has sworn is gross. You should see him trying to figure out how to ask for more of some food that he's spent the previous half hour declaring that he hates.) That was the moment, the moment when he said, "Thanks for making me read that, Dad," that I realized what a wrong thing we are doing in climbing on the bandwagon with all the "start in the middle of the action" supporters.
Treasure Island is not a book that would find publication today. At least, not in the form that it's currently in. I imagine publishers today would want to skip right to boarding the ship or, possibly, even to the point where Jim is in the apple barrel. We would never meet the Captain, the spectral figure of old blind Pew (who forms the basis for more characters in modern fiction than I can count), or witness the horrifying delivery of the Black Spot. Well, maybe in flashback, but that just wouldn't deliver the same impact. Kidnapped, also by Robert Louis Stevenson, is more action packed than Treasure Island, and I remember loving it. Loving it way more than Island. However, I can't remember anything else about Kidnapped, just that I loved it. The images from Treasure Island have stayed with me my whole life so carefully crafted are they. Being his first novel, the fact that Treasure Island would be considered unpublishable would have likely killed his entire career. Can you imagine if he had never made it to the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?
The horrifying fact is that if we applied this idea of starting in the middle of the action to most of the books we consider classics, we would mangle them and diminish them. Harry Potter would likely lose chapters; my guess would be a beginning not before he is boarding the train to Hogwarts. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe wouldn't start before all the children journeyed into Narnia together to immediately discover Tumnus' wrecked cave. And The Hobbit? Probably where he's racing to join the dwarves at the Green Dragon. Certainly not before that. I could go on, but I'm sure you get the idea.
There's nothing wrong, specifically, with starting a book in the middle of the action if that's how you, the author, want to do it. The problem is with the insistence that that is the way to do it. The insistence that that is how you write a better book. It's not how you write a better book. It may be how you sell more books (in the short run), but it's not how you get better books from authors. Good books have complete plots, and that includes an exposition.
The greatest danger, though, is that this style of writing, starting mid-action and making the reader sort of catch up as s/he goes, is teaching the current generation of young readers to live on the equivalent of literary fast food. It's quick. It's easy. There's no work required. There's no work, because there's no substance. Nothing to actually digest. It dissolves just like cotton candy. That's probably why I disliked the first Percy Jackson so much (the only one I've read). The book just has no substance. The movie had more substance to it than the book, which is an oddity, but it's probably why I enjoyed the movie. I kept expecting more from the book, but it never delivered.
Personally, I want my work to have substance. Cotton candy is great once a year at the fair, but I don't want to try and live off of it. I feel like we're allowing our kids to do so when we cave to the demands of agents and publishers to stick to just the portions of the story that move the plot forward. Keep to the action. Seriously? That would mean no Fred and George Weasley, who are my favorite characters from Harry Potter. They rarely move the plot forward, but they are a whole lot of fun. No Beorn. No Tom Bombadil. Again, I could go on.
Let's look back at our roller coaster for just a moment. The power of discernment, as the author, comes in knowing when we leave the line and board the roller coaster. Yes, you do want to cut out the sections that are just waiting in line, but you do want to keep the parts that are the beginning of the ride. Even if the ride starts slow. As the author, you get to choose that. Yes, this bit is slow moving, but it's essential to what's going to happen later. Even if it's only essential in that it ties us to the characters, gives us a connection to them. There's nothing worse than a reader not having an emotional investment in your character(s), than just not caring what happens to them. That's what allows a reader to set your book down and say, "You know what? I just don't care." When you don't give the reader a chance to bond with your characters through a strong exposition, this is what you risk. At that point, your hope is to zip the reader through quickly enough that they never realize they didn't care what happened.
This is what it comes down to for me:
Francis Bacon said, "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested."
I want to write books that need to be chewed and digested. That beg to be chewed and digested. Heck, I'd settle for writing books that just need to be swallowed. Publishers don't care about any of that. They just need books that will be tasted. Quick and easy. And forgotten. They want readers to keep tasting book after book. That's how they make their money. If that's all you want as a writer, though, agents (and publishers) give good advice, and you should certainly go that route. Being tasted is just not what I aspire to.
Or, maybe, I'm just contrary.
That's always a possibility.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Sorry, Charlie!
I didn't read correctly as a child. Wait, wait! I knew perfectly well how to read. I just didn't follow conventional developmental patterns in my reading. I've probably mentioned this. The main reason for this was that I had no one to suggest books to me. Neither of my parents were readers. In fact, I don't think my father has ever read a book, and I know my brother has never completed a book, not even for school. My mom reads occasionally, but she's not a "reader" nor did she grow up spending a lot of time reading. I'm somewhat of an aberration, since how much a child reads is almost always determined by how much the parents read and how much encouragement they give the child in reading. But I started reading early. Before kindergarten. I just didn't know what I was supposed to be reading.
I started out reading science books. Non-fiction. Yes, I'm serious. I was into dinosaurs, so that's where I started. In fact, in 1st grade I got accused (by my teacher!) of making up the word paleontologist when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. She made me go to the board and spell it for her. Because, you know, if I could spell it, somehow, that meant I hadn't made it up. No, I don't really follow the logic, either, but there you have it. I spent the first few years of my schooling reading texts about dinosaurs and astronomy, mostly. I branched into history next. I was in 4th grade before I really discovered fiction. The Hardy Boys. By that time, some school counselor or something had told my mom that I had some kind developmental delay in reading, because I wasn't reading what other kids my age read.
And I still haven't read a lot of those books. I just didn't know about them. Make a list of books you read and loved as a child, and I would bet I haven't read most of them. Some of them, I may not have even heard of. My wife, after more than a dozen years of marriage, still reacts with shock and dismay when she mentions books she read and loved as a kid that I've never read. Like The Wizard of Oz. The Edward Eager books. The Phantom Tollbooth. Of course, I've been trying to correct some of these oversights, and I have to say, if you haven't read it, go, right now, and get Tollbooth. It's awesome!
To make this even more clear, I loved, loved, loved Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (this being the movie, not the book) when I was a kid. I still adore that movie. Gene Wilder is amazing. As much as I love Johnny Depp, he will never come close to Gene Wilder as Wonka for me. In fact, I really don't much like Burton's movie version of the book. Here's the thing, I grew up thinking that that was just a movie. I had no idea that there was a book, and I was, probably, in my 20s before I even heard of Roald Dahl. After all, he's not exactly high school reading.
Last year, my younger son had to read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for school. That was 3rd grade. I just want to point out, that I didn't have to any read any books for school until I was in, oh, 5th or 6th grade, when we started having to do book reports, and we got to choose the books. My kids started getting books assigned in 2nd grade. I don't know if this a difference caused by evolution in the wider school system or if it's because I live in California, now, and not Louisiana (not exactly known for its stellar educational system). At any rate, I remembered, at that point, that I'd never read a Dahl book and decided that I should fix that. I ordered both of the Charlie books.
I finally got around to reading them, recently. I was disappointed. And I was disappointed that I was disappointed. I went into it fully expecting the like the heck out of the books. I mean, I loved the movie! I'm not sure there's been any other movie from a book where I've liked the movie and not the book. It's unprecedented. The cliche response is always, "The book was better." But not this time. I should have whizzed through the 150 pages of chocolate factory, but I disenjoyed it so much that it actually took me two weeks to read it. I felt bad about it, too. And my son... well, my son is still in disbelief that I didn't like the book. Maybe, I shouldn't have told him? However, I did know enough to know that my daughter, our not-reader, would like it and passed it on to her, and she did like it, so that was good.
I've tried to reconcile this whole issue of not liking the book. Maybe, it's just because I'm an adult, now, that it didn't click for me. That's totally possible, although I haven't had that issue with other books. I still love Narnia, after all. So, I thought, maybe the movie just got in the way for me. Because I love the movie. Have I mentioned that? I still do. But, really, the movie is not exactly the book, and, maybe, I just wasn't liking it because it didn't mesh for me. I thought, I'll read Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, and that will be better, because I won't have any false expectations for that one.
I didn't like it either. I felt really bad. Part of that one, though, is that it takes place, mostly, in space. What? That's not where Charlie belongs. I couldn't come to grips with that. We've gone from a book about a magical chocolate factory to an adventure in space? I'll say it again: What!?!? But it goes beyond that. I really just don't enjoy Dahl's style. It's too... sporadic, for lack of a better term, for me. He seems to have the attention span of a teenager in the way he writes. I couldn't deal. Glass Elevator also dragged for me and took much longer to read than it should have.
My wife, also, can't believe that I don't like the books. But I can't help it. I'm fairly certain I won't try any more Dahl.
Now, I'm not saying that there weren't clever bits of writing in there or even that I may not have chuckled once or twice, but the books just didn't take hold in me. I'm glad my kids like them, though. Maybe, if I'd followed a more conventional reading path as a child, things would be different, but I can't say I'm sorry for the path I took. Although, I do wish I'd had someone along with me that could have said to me, "Hey, why don't you try this? I think you'll like it." I could have augmented the path I took if I'd had someone there to do that. More than anything else, I try to be that person for my kids.
I started out reading science books. Non-fiction. Yes, I'm serious. I was into dinosaurs, so that's where I started. In fact, in 1st grade I got accused (by my teacher!) of making up the word paleontologist when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. She made me go to the board and spell it for her. Because, you know, if I could spell it, somehow, that meant I hadn't made it up. No, I don't really follow the logic, either, but there you have it. I spent the first few years of my schooling reading texts about dinosaurs and astronomy, mostly. I branched into history next. I was in 4th grade before I really discovered fiction. The Hardy Boys. By that time, some school counselor or something had told my mom that I had some kind developmental delay in reading, because I wasn't reading what other kids my age read.
And I still haven't read a lot of those books. I just didn't know about them. Make a list of books you read and loved as a child, and I would bet I haven't read most of them. Some of them, I may not have even heard of. My wife, after more than a dozen years of marriage, still reacts with shock and dismay when she mentions books she read and loved as a kid that I've never read. Like The Wizard of Oz. The Edward Eager books. The Phantom Tollbooth. Of course, I've been trying to correct some of these oversights, and I have to say, if you haven't read it, go, right now, and get Tollbooth. It's awesome!
To make this even more clear, I loved, loved, loved Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (this being the movie, not the book) when I was a kid. I still adore that movie. Gene Wilder is amazing. As much as I love Johnny Depp, he will never come close to Gene Wilder as Wonka for me. In fact, I really don't much like Burton's movie version of the book. Here's the thing, I grew up thinking that that was just a movie. I had no idea that there was a book, and I was, probably, in my 20s before I even heard of Roald Dahl. After all, he's not exactly high school reading.
Last year, my younger son had to read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for school. That was 3rd grade. I just want to point out, that I didn't have to any read any books for school until I was in, oh, 5th or 6th grade, when we started having to do book reports, and we got to choose the books. My kids started getting books assigned in 2nd grade. I don't know if this a difference caused by evolution in the wider school system or if it's because I live in California, now, and not Louisiana (not exactly known for its stellar educational system). At any rate, I remembered, at that point, that I'd never read a Dahl book and decided that I should fix that. I ordered both of the Charlie books.
I finally got around to reading them, recently. I was disappointed. And I was disappointed that I was disappointed. I went into it fully expecting the like the heck out of the books. I mean, I loved the movie! I'm not sure there's been any other movie from a book where I've liked the movie and not the book. It's unprecedented. The cliche response is always, "The book was better." But not this time. I should have whizzed through the 150 pages of chocolate factory, but I disenjoyed it so much that it actually took me two weeks to read it. I felt bad about it, too. And my son... well, my son is still in disbelief that I didn't like the book. Maybe, I shouldn't have told him? However, I did know enough to know that my daughter, our not-reader, would like it and passed it on to her, and she did like it, so that was good.
I've tried to reconcile this whole issue of not liking the book. Maybe, it's just because I'm an adult, now, that it didn't click for me. That's totally possible, although I haven't had that issue with other books. I still love Narnia, after all. So, I thought, maybe the movie just got in the way for me. Because I love the movie. Have I mentioned that? I still do. But, really, the movie is not exactly the book, and, maybe, I just wasn't liking it because it didn't mesh for me. I thought, I'll read Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, and that will be better, because I won't have any false expectations for that one.
I didn't like it either. I felt really bad. Part of that one, though, is that it takes place, mostly, in space. What? That's not where Charlie belongs. I couldn't come to grips with that. We've gone from a book about a magical chocolate factory to an adventure in space? I'll say it again: What!?!? But it goes beyond that. I really just don't enjoy Dahl's style. It's too... sporadic, for lack of a better term, for me. He seems to have the attention span of a teenager in the way he writes. I couldn't deal. Glass Elevator also dragged for me and took much longer to read than it should have.
My wife, also, can't believe that I don't like the books. But I can't help it. I'm fairly certain I won't try any more Dahl.
Now, I'm not saying that there weren't clever bits of writing in there or even that I may not have chuckled once or twice, but the books just didn't take hold in me. I'm glad my kids like them, though. Maybe, if I'd followed a more conventional reading path as a child, things would be different, but I can't say I'm sorry for the path I took. Although, I do wish I'd had someone along with me that could have said to me, "Hey, why don't you try this? I think you'll like it." I could have augmented the path I took if I'd had someone there to do that. More than anything else, I try to be that person for my kids.
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