A disturbing trend that I’ve noticed in recently published books is to throw non-stop action at you.
As an action junkie, I’m torn about whether to complain about this. Well-written action can keep the pages turning quickly. It can keep me engaged over longer periods of time, but at the end of the novel, I’m left with only the afterglow of the mental adrenaline rush.
You don’t have to look far in my recent library (see the “Now Reading” list in the sidebar) to see that I tend to gravitate toward military science fiction and fantasy. The first is not known for its literary merit, while the second can be hit or miss, depending on the author and the setting. I guess what I’m trying to say by this is that I’m guilty of the same sort of consumerism that everyone else is. I’m just becoming increasingly aware that the literary merits of the works I consume are becoming less and less.
Let’s pick on two of my recent favorites: John Ringo and John Scalzi. Both of these guys are near the top of their game in terms of sales and popularity right now. They each write stories that are fast-paced, they’re reasonably prolific, and neither one of them would be high on the list of any literary’s critics “must read.” Ringo delights in carnal carnage™ (can I trademark that phrase?), while Scalzi indulges sarcastic dialog as a foil for his action. Neither author writes pieces of landmark fiction, yet their sales are much higher than ones who do. (Peter Watts is a prime example of this.)
And who is to blame for this, really? Watt’s Blindsight asks questions about the nature of humanity in a dark and disturbing way. His novel isn’t devoid of action, but his approach to setting, character, and theme is much more literary than the norm in genre fiction. The novel isn’t just dark (as Ringo can sometimes be), but it is depressing in a “OMG, I want to cut my wrists to avoid polluting the universe with my humanity” sort of way. That this is meaningful within the context of our current social dialogue is irrelevant to its entertainment value. Unfortunately, the book sales reflect this.
Escapism has always been one of the more attractive aspects of reading, but our recognition of literature as “art” has been slipping lately. Implicit in my above commentary is the thought that for a work to have literary merit (or to be art) it must contribute somehow to the “big discourse” of society. Mindless mayhem doesn’t enhance our lives and is at best, a pale reflection of real events.
The elitist in me aspires to be an artist in my work, but I fully realize that my work to date would fall firmly into the mindless mayhem or escapist category. I’m wrestling with the direction of my career. Were I to ever be published, which is more satisfying in the long term: prolific entertainment or near anonymity in the name of art?
Neil Steven’s books are very fast paced and after reading them (although enjoyable) I find myself wanting more character development outside the two or three main characters.
When the action is intense it seems to limit the character development to the top few in the story line and as much as I liked some of the characters I wanted to know more about them.
“Old Man’s War” is also faster paced than I would like, but a good fun read.
Action is a plot device (to me)… one of many, toward the telling of a story. The story is key to me. I thoroughly enjoy the excitement and suspense of good action sequences, but battles and action don’t really tell a story. It’s the personalities and motivations of the characters, as well as their conflicts, that make a story worth telling and hearing. Try to imagine Ender’s Game solely as a series of fights… without getting into the life and trials of Ender. It’d be rather a boring novel as such.
On the flip side, sometimes an author can overdo character development. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been cured of insomnia by reading a chapter in the Wheel of Time.
The key to enjoyment in reading for me is to become immersed in the story to the point that I lose track of the passage of time or other outside influences. The ability of an author to draw me into the flow of the story is the mark of how avidly I pursue that authors works. Pete and I have completely divergent views of some works while being in complete agreement on others. S.M. Sterling is an author whose work I usually devour as soon as it is available, but one of his recent works (“In the Courts of the Crimson Kings”) left me passing it on before I was half way through it. Pete thought it was great. An author will lose me if I find it tedious to reach that level of immersion. Blitz
I almost dread action sequences. Every action sequence is a tremendous risk, especially the ones that exist primarily for the sake of pacing. Each action sequence should have a point beyond just providing guns and explosions. The problem lies when you’ve written so much straight character-developmental dialogue that you’re risking crossing over from military sci-fi to soap opera. Sometimes, you just -need- action. But every action scene must have a soul. It must have a purpose beyond adrenaline, be it an impact on one of the characters, a major advance in the story, or the revelation of something new in the author’s universe.
If action sequences are peppered with bits of character development and plot progression, then I think there’s the potential for truly memorable moments. The same goes the other way around. Dramatic, non-combat scenes can have very intense interpersonal action. Action and drama are not mutually exclusive. Quite the opposite, actually.
All to say, writing military sci-fi is a delicate balance. Battles and combat are part of the game, but they can’t -be- the game. No one wants to read a first-person shooter. The challenging part is not writing one.
Interesting topic. I’d take Watts over Ringo any day of the week, but I’d question what appears to be your implication that depressing, misanthropic works are inherently more worthy as art. (I’ll grant that it’s more “literary,” as the term is now used.) Why should those emotions be valued over others as more worthy subjects of art?
I’m not clear what you mean by saying that art should “enhance our lives.” (In some way beyond the pleasure taken from the work itself, since mindless mayhem and escapism does enhance many readers’ lives in that sense.) I’m also curious as to what you mean by the “big discourse of society.” Could you expand on that?
John – Thanks for posting!
Let me take a few of your items point by point to clarify.
Art to me is always evocative. While I enjoy reading popcorn fiction, I don’t always find it particularly evocative. I also find that I gravitate toward work that strikes a chord on the melancholy side of the spectrum. That’s just the way my personality is wired.
It has been my experience throughout my education and my reading “career” that the literary works most often labeled as art are those that are the darkest. Very rarely are comedies included in a broad survey of the subject. Of course, this is a generalization. The great thing about art is that is subject to interpretation. My definition may not necessarily agree with yours, and yet both of us are right. There is some truth to the notion that art is in the eye of the beholder.
So why should the emotions that Watts evokes in Blindsight be more valuable than say, Heinlein’s Citizen of the Galaxy when being considered for art? The simplest answer is that they shouldn’t be…if you don’t think so.
I’m not trying to dodge the question. I’m trying to amplify my opinion on art and its impact on people. In short, it’s an individual experience that will always lack complete commonality with another.
But art, to be considered such in my own frame of reference, needs to provide some sort of enhancement to my life experience. I stare at Salvador Dali paintings because I find them thought provoking; I barely glance at Picasso because I find the content of his work distrubing at some level that I can’t quite touch. In the first case, my life was enhanced by an object of beauty that requires thought. In the other, the imagery just seems purposely chaotic.
By the same token, many of the genre fiction books on the market today do nothing to enhance my life experience as such. They are a simple diversion, akin to a video game. It is a rare book indeed that I find myself so immersed in the charactesr/setting/story that I tune out my surroundings for hours at a time. I really look for those moment of literary chrysalis. I like for the things I read to challenge my preconceptions or to stretch my imagination. I want to be able to point to a line of thinking or an outlook and say: “This is now different because of what I’ve read.” That’s what I mean by enhancing our lives with the things we read.
Lastly, the “big discourse” was a term used by a college composition professor that I had. He had always defined it as the exchange of information and ideas that happens at the level of mass consciousness. This isn’t casual conversation about what the neighbors are doing; the big discourse embodies the crucial issues of our time. My favorite example of a novel that does this is Frank Herbert’s Dune. The scarcity of water on Arrakis (Dune) was an interesting prophecy about our own planet’s future, while the spice could be interpreted as a metaphor for oil.
So there you have it. For my personal definition of art, a novel must be evocative, it must provide a catalyst for change, and it must speak to/reflect the larger ideas of our time.