... And their heart shaped-mouths critics.
When speaking about fiction, it is often said that the beginning of a book should convince the reader to take the great plunge, to dive right into the story, and that this feat can only be achieved through strong action and short, on-point description.
To an opening scene, a first paragraph, a first sentence, the friendly critics arrive with a stampede of well-meaning, cut-throat assessments. Show, don’t tell. Too many words, commas, conjunctions. The sentences are too long. It’s boring. I’m confused. You should answer my question right away… And it goes on. And on. And on.
Along with the automatic put-down of any work that does not give immediate gratification to the reader, we find the small condescending tidbits of encouragement along the line of ‘You do you’. I don’t like you or your work, but I do hope you succeed (insert tap on the shoulder here). You should do this and that, and oh, I have a friend who could help you with that (insert commercial link here). I’m happy you found your niche (in French, niche means kennel, the dirty old thing your dog sleeps in, all year round, through rain and cold. I find the image quite fitting.)
I read those comments with an urge I should not feel, caught between my immediate repulsion over them, the worry that I would one day have to sustain them ( I am not about to ask for an opinion over my writing after reading all this, am I? ), and the need to understand where all this is coming from.
Of course, I have an opinion on the subject. Who doesn’t? That’s only worth what a sustained, applied thought is worth. Not much. Just a tiny bit more than the couple hundred comments that pile up haphazardly behind said niche and have a very rancid smell.
LEADING QUESTIONS
The number of dashes, commas or the use of “strong” verbs, or any other argument over style, has absolutely no importance whatsoever to me. The style is only a reflection of something else, it is a tool and you cannot say anything about a tool without touching upon what the tool is used for, what meaning it is conveying.
The methods that are used to convey meaning and feelings are limitless, and they should keep on being limitless. If there was a recipe to follow, then all beginnings would look the same.
The important thing to me is to ask myself a few questions that I should be able to answer at first glance:
What are the character’s motivations? How does this beginning make me feel ? Do I want to feel this way ?
It has to do with expectations and wants.
When a beginning does not work for someone it’s not primarily because a comma is misplaced (come on, guys!) but it might be because the reader expects something.
Maybe a specific moodset. The reader likes moody characters and atmospheres, he likes to reflect on small things. He will NOT like ‘show don’t tell’ books. He does not want action but reflection.
Or the reader hates a sarcastic tone, he wants action-packed books that have a straight narrative voice. Who knows what a reader wants? Does it actually matter?
Do you write to make a buck or do you live to write or do you want to do both?
EXPECTATIONS
The idea that a work of fiction should only serve what the reader wants is preposterous. I personally read books to be surprised and enriched, learn about lives I do not lead and will never approach in another way than by way of books.
The rule that says find and cater to your audience and do not serve them anything but what they expect might suit a good many people, and it might even constitute success. But it also lacks the understanding of the complex process and exchange that happens between the audience and the writer.
I can see three needs that lead to the creation of a book of fiction.
The writer needs to write.
The reader wants to read.
Ideally the writer needs to earn money from the endeavour, a recognition of some sort.
Those needs have to coexist in a balanced way that seems quite difficult to achieve because of the many different expectations a reader might have and what the writer wants to work on.
I think if a writer completely aligns his work to what his supposed audience wants he will lose the originality of his work, his own voice.
TRANSPARENCY
The opening of a book should make the balance between writer and reader’s needs transparent. Like a contract between them that is sealed with money and time.
If a reader does not like the opening, the contract, he does not have to buy the book, and certainly does not have to piss on it all the while saying that’s a niche.
It seems fundamentally wrong to me to use the same set of controls to criticise a work of fiction when every contract is different. And it seems to me fundamentally wrong to only criticise the tools and never touch upon the fulfilling of the contract.
I thought about Tolkien’s first chapter of The Lord of The Rings. I have heard a good many people finding it boring, unadventurous. But if my theory is right, that first chapter makes the contract between reader and writer that much more transparent. It says this life is so good the only thing you have to worry about is to plan your own birthday. But life is soooo boring, it’s actually too good. You want to fight evil, you want to be useful. So the narrator seems to indulge the reader, he says, you want peace ? I’ll give you peace. Then he says, you see, even with all the good will in the world, and despite yourself, you want a challenge, an adventure. And so, the reader begins with this very straightforward line between good and evil, because good has been defined in the first chapter. It also says, you are the hobbit, you wish you could be an elf or a king but no, you're small, hairy and not that smart and the best quality to have in these conditions is a self-deprecating sense of humour. You cannot survive life or The Lord of the Rings without it. There, that first chapter gives the reader everything he needs to know about what is to be expected. A hell of a ride. And then a return to a boring good life. And that is achieved with many different tools, the setting, the tone, the characters… It’s not about strong verbs or tenses or long sentences…
SOCIAL EXPECTATIONS
Another set of arguments troubles me, that has to do with the underlying social implications of having an opinion about a book.
A work of art and words has as much to do with, well… art, as it has to do with the way we see ourselves, and where we are on the social ladder and where we want to be.
Maybe a reader can reject a book, its opening, not because the book does not personally fulfil his expectations but because it does not cater to the image the reader would want to have of himself. The way some families spend their Sundays listening to Mozart and others prefer The Voice. Whatever the contract is, if the opening or the book is not perceived as existing on the same social field as the reader, or above it, in ladder-speaking terms, then the reader will not pick up the book and could even hold strong negative feelings for it.
I, for example (please do not kill me over this) love romances. But let’s face it, most of them don’t shout professional writing or look like a Jane Austen spawn. But the contract they give me suits me. I just don’t buy them, I find them free, I hide them, I devour them. And no one knows. Beside the Jane Austen books, only two of them have made their way into my library : The Ball Room by Anna Hope and Kiss an Angel by Elizabeth Susan Philips. Werewolves and vampires in my personal library, in view of all my guests ? I’d rather die.
And so, I think most of the detractors of a book (all of us that press on that reply button as if our next paragraph was going to be Dostoïevsky-worthy) are reacting to the snippets we read with mostly unconscious minds, deeply set social beliefs and not much of an objective eye or any kind of precise understanding of why we don’t like that specific type of opening.
All that to say, a bit of kindness, more rigorous argumentations, and the knowledge that everything does not revolve around our tiny selves could go a long(er) way!
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