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Showing posts with label point of view. Show all posts
Showing posts with label point of view. Show all posts

Tuesday, 5 December 2017

Book review - Waiting for Sunrise


William Boyd’s 2012 novel Waiting for Sunrise was published a year before his James Bond outing, Solo. Both involve spies – as did Restless (2006); having said that, this is not a spy novel nor is it a thriller.

The book begins and ends with second person narrative, a literary device, as if the reader is personally viewing the scene through the director’s eyes. The bulk of the novel is third person point of view. However, there are also sections in the first person, ‘Autobiographical Investigations’ by the main protagonist.

Lysander Rief, an actor son of a deceased famous thespian, is undergoing therapy in Vienna in 1913; part of the treatment is for Rief to write down in a journal his ‘autobiographical investigations’. His problem is of the psychosexual kind. He meets the intriguing and beautiful Hettie Bull who miraculously solves his problem and then involves him in a scandal. He escapes the opprobrium with the aid of a couple of Foreign Office types – who then later call on him to return the favour. We’re halfway through the book before Rief is recruited as a spy. The method of his infiltration is contrived, to say the least, yet it does give us a powerful insight into aspects of trench warfare.: ‘star shells and distant artillery, the throat-clearing expectoration of machine-gun fire…’ (p227)

Later, when Rief returns to London, he is in the midst of a bombing raid by zeppelins, and these scenes are intense and dramatic. His time in London is devoted to rooting out a suspected mole. Again, the ending was contrived and a bit of a damp squib, which is a pity, because the writing and observational detail persisted in creating the impulse to keep turning the pages.

On the whole, Boyd is very good at description, painting a scene, and his character studies create realistic players. He is a pleasure to read. Rief's ex-girlfriend is appearing in a play, The Reluctant Hero. Now employed as a spy, he ‘felt envious, experiencing a sudden urge to rejoin my old life, to be back on stage, acting, pretending. Then it struck me that this was precisely what I was about to do. Even the title of her play was suddenly apt. It rather sobered me.’ (p214)

Good writers utilise the skills of their main characters; Rief’s acting isn’t simply a career label to stick onto him. ‘He was feeling surprisingly tense but was acting very calm, and he thanked his profession once again for the trained ability to feign this sort of ease and confidence even when he was suffering from its opposite.’ (p348) Excellent stuff.

Possibly the first appearance of the book title in the text is when Rief is stuck in no man’s land: 
‘… the best course of action was to stay put and wait until sunrise. Then he might know what to do next.’ (p231)  Followed by: ‘… he tossed and fidgeted, punched and turned his pillows, opened and closed the windows of his room, waiting for sunrise.’ (p322)  And, the penultimate: ‘… he smoked a cigarette, waiting for sunrise. Sunrise and clarity, he thought – at last, at last.’ (p407) Finally, to hammer it home, ‘… and I hoped that sunrise that day would bring understanding and clarity with it – or at least clearer vision. And I thought I had it…’ (p419)

But of course we know that some sunrises occur in fog and then there’s no defined clarity; particularly where spies and double-agents are concerned…

A gripping, atmospheric novel, though flawed.

Editorial comment

A very minor quibble. Rief’s ‘autobiographical investigations’ relate some conversations in this manner:
ME: I still have the ring…
BLANCHE: What are you trying to say…?
And yet another shows:
MUNRO: Not clever enough…
LYSANDER: I admit…
Here, it should have been consistent with other examples, and show ME not LYSANDER.

My review of Restless can be found here and of Solo here

My comments on point of view can be found in Write a Western in 30Days (pp56-67), such as: ‘Second person narrative has its advocates, but it generally smacks of a literary device and doesn’t make easy reading, particularly when at novel length or in genre fiction. Here, the writer is speaking directly to the reader, even addressing him as “you”, as if he existed in the narrator’s world.’ (p58)

Tuesday, 22 September 2015

Writing – the short story

For many years I’ve added to my home library collections of short stories. Until the advent of the e-reader, received wisdom in publishing was that short story collections ‘don’t sell’. What they meant, perhaps, was that they don’t sell in vast numbers so are not worthwhile expending effort on them. However, now any form of writing can be obtained on an e-reader, and enjoyed, and the collected works of many classic authors can be downloaded for very little financial outlay (check out the Delphi Complete Works).

A short story in its literary form is supposed to be a brief fictional prose narrative, often involving one connected episode, a concentrated form, dependent for its success on feeling and suggestion. The writer must attempt to succinctly create a fictional world in the moment. Stories attempt to reflect the life that is lived by all of us, and the short form has to do it without benefit of the depth and breadth of a novel.

And, as with the novel, a short story has the potential to invoke any number of aspects of writing.

·       The plot – the sequence of related events that shape the narrative.

·       The characters – the people who play their parts in the narrative.

·       Setting – the place and time where the story’s action unfolds.

·       Point of view - a consistent perspective on the characters and their actions.

·       Style – how the author chooses to relate the story.

·       Theme – often the submerged back-bone of the story, a unifying idea that provides insight into the human condition.

The length of the short story will be dictated by a number of factors:

·       Complexity of the plot

·       Number of characters

·       Duration of the tale

·       Intended audience

·       It doesn’t have enough content to be a longer piece

That intended audience might be a publisher, an editor, a competition, a magazine, or simply personal preference.

A short story can cover the events of a brief episode or encompass action that takes years to conclude.

The author needs to use a scalpel to excise anything that is not pertinent to the original intention.

If a short story has to fit into 2,000 words then there is little scope for detailed exposition and rising action, and so on.

The nub of the conflict – the problem to be resolved by the protagonist – must be introduced very early.

If the story is allowed more words, say 6,000, then a more leisurely pace can be adopted, though again every word has to do its job – creating the world, the atmosphere, the characterisation and the emotional journey of the protagonist.

Usually, the so-called literary short stories have more words while genre fiction writers are quite content to settle for less to do the job.
 
Regardless of length, the writer of short stories must show the reader what is important through the dramatic action of the plot and the other elements of the story, and not just explicitly tell the reader what to think.
 
The illusion of reality should always be sustained by the plot right up to the end. This reality is enhanced by character creation. Dialogue is a useful tool here, conveying mood and emotion. With the wordage permitted, the writer must suggest enough complexity in the individual to affect the reader’s emotions. Mood can be affected by time and place, and setting is important, though ideally this will be achieved with a few deft sketches rather than a full-blown travelogue. Creating a visual place enables the reader to ‘see’ the action more definitively, in effect to be part of the scene, involved in the drama.
 
Drama is perceived through the eyes of the protagonist. In short stories, it is preferable to limit the number of characters and viewpoints. The first-person narrator could be a major character or a minor character who is a good observer. The third-person narrator can be omniscient, seeing into all characters’ hearts and minds, or limited omniscient, seeing into one or, possibly, two characters.

Some novelists are not comfortable with the short story; in their case, there is not enough scope to create the world the writer perceives; only a novel will do. And the same goes for some readers: they can’t seem to get lost in a short piece while they can easily become immersed in a thick novel. To each their own.
 
Writing short fiction can help to hone your writing. You have to convey scene, character, plot, setting, and emotion within a concise form, so every word should be selected to that end. There is little room for extraneous padding or ‘fluff’. In some ways, certain short story writers are similar to poets – selecting the right word to convey the precise feeling or moment.
 
Just browsing along my bookshelves, these are some of the short story collections I can see:

Collected Stories by John Cheever, Roald Dahl, Ruth Rendell, Eudora Welty, E M Forster, O Henry, D H Lawrence, W Somerset Maugham, Elizabeth Bowen, Anton Chekov, Noel Coward, Saki, Jack London, Edith Wharton, Edgar Allan Poe, Guy de Maupassant, Katherine Mansfield, Henry James, Elizabeth Spencer; Truman Capote – A Reader; Stanley Ellin – The Speciality of the House; Leslie Charteris – SeƱor Saint; Willa Catha – Great short works; Frederick Forsyth – The Veteran; Ring Lardner – Best Short Stories; James Joyce – Dubliners; Hugh Garner – Best Stories; Hermann Hesse – Stories from Five Decades; Elizabeth Spencer – Stories; August Derleth – The Return of Solar Pons; Arthur Conan Doyle – The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes; Ernest Hemingway – The Snows of Kilimanjaro and Other Stories; Jeffery Deaver – Twisted; Joseph Conrad – Typhoon and other stories; Doris Lessing – This was the Old Chief’s Country, Stephen King – Everything’s Eventual, and G K Chesterton - Father Brown.  


This limited list doesn’t touch upon the horror, fantasy and science fiction shelves; these genres have spawned many hundreds of short stories.
 
If you haven’t tackled short story writing – read a collection or two and see what can be achieved by the masters such as those mentioned above, or Margaret Atwood, Ambrose Bierce, Ray Bradbury, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Shirley Jackson to name a few more.
 
Even today, short stories definitely have a story to tell.

Wednesday, 16 September 2015

Writing – what’s easy and hard to write?

Today, I popped in to the local Writers’ Circle. The chairman Ian had set a writing exercise, asking each of the fourteen attendees to write what they found hard and easy to write about.


This is a complex question.

Poetic
For those who don’t write poetry, this was certainly found to be hard to tackle – whether rhyming or not. 

That’s the idea!
Getting the idea was often elusive for the writer. That’s difficult to resolve. You have to have an inquisitive mind that is always asking ‘what if?’ A word, phrase or event can trigger an idea. If you can’t waylay ideas to generate in your writing, then you’re probably not destined to be a writer.

Muse, where art thou?
Wait for the muse? It can work, but it can also take a long time. As one famous author put it, ‘I wait for the muse each day. It arrives at 9am when I sit at my desk.’ In other words, he enforces discipline in his writing because he sees it as a job.

Oh, the pressure!
A few found they could write better when under some time constraint. That’s what journalists find – they have to deliver to a deadline. That deadline won’t shift. It has to be met. Writing to a self-imposed deadline can help you to train yourself to write regularly.

Excuses, excuses!
Then there was the question of motivation. How to get into a writerly mode. The basic answer is to sit down and write. Of course writers are very good at procrastinating. Anything rather than actually write; there are umpteen excuses. See a reference to this in my Friday’s forgotten book blog here.

Even for writers who find it easy to write, it still requires effort. That is allocating time to write, ensuring that you do write, spilling words onto the page or screen.

Point of view
Deciding on a point of view for the story can prove difficult for some. Determining this will affect the story. If it’s first person, then the narrator (presumably) survives any threat, so the danger must be faced by others possibly close to the narrator.

Voice over
Attaining a ‘voice’ for the story proves difficult for others. ‘Know your character’ can help here. Immersing yourself in the story with your characters will gradually bring out the appropriate ‘voice’; different professions have different ways of doing and saying things; but don’t overdo this, either.

Slang etc
When to use vernacular – and how to check its authenticity. Recommendation – don’t use it. Writers of Oor Wullie and the Broons comic strips are proficient; most aren’t. Try reading Mary Webb’s Gone to Earth – a good book but hard going!

Not enough words!
Some find it hard to write a lot – often too busy thinking about the right word to write. Get the thing written first, and then you can find the best words in the self-edit stage. Immerse yourself in the scene, using all the character’s senses, and describe the scene so the reader can ‘see’ it. Avoid padding, however!
 
Research
Reluctance to write historical fiction ‘because of the risk of getting something wrong’. Do research for the period, but limit it to what you need for the story, otherwise you’ll be forever researching and never creating your own fiction. Read fiction set in the period you’ve chosen to get the flavour, so you can immerse yourself; when you come to write your own piece, the style will tend to reflect the period. Don’t overdo the research and include everything just because it’s interesting! Even a short story might require some research.

Speaking of dialogue
Some writers find it hard to write dialogue and rely too much on narrative – ‘tell’ rather than ‘show’. (Show is more than simply using dialogue, however). Again, ‘know your characters’ to the point where you can ‘hear’ them speaking. Dialogue creates character and moves the story forward and is a faster read than dense description.
 
Self-doubt
Fear of criticism, fear of not getting it right, can freeze the brain so little or nothing is written. Beat the fear, just let the words flow because you know that this is only the first draft and it can be honed.

Confidence is linked to the above. The more you write the better your writing should become. Writing regularly should improve your confidence. Generally, writers are sensitive about their work and are filled with self-doubt. That’s healthy up to a point; but restrain those doubts and just write. If you find this writing business painful to do, perhaps you should try something else? You either persevere or give up. Good writers didn’t start out being good, but they persevered, and locked away those self-doubt fears in a little box under the bed.
 
Write what you know
One answer to lack of confidence is ‘experience’. As we all go through life we build up a wealth of experience. Use this to drive your characters. This is ‘what you know’ – life’s experience. Of course some things we won’t be directly involved in – murder, war, etc. Some experiences have to be gained vicariously through voracious reading – fine, use these too, suitably adjusted for your characters. This is where research comes in again – non-fiction books (biographies, histories, for example) contain a wealth of knowledge and experience you can tap into.

Tuesday, 15 April 2014

Writing tip – It’s too long!

This is a companion piece to my blog ‘Writing tip – It’s too short! here


As we writers know, some publishers set an upper limit for fiction submissions. There are several valid reasons for this. The limit can vary from 50,000 to 100,000. Rarely do they want in excess of 100,000. Yes, there are exceptions, though I haven’t found any when searching on my wife’s behalf for her 150,000 romantic suspense novel.

So how do you clip off those extra words, expunge all that precious prose?

Here are ten suggestions:

1. Break the novel into two books. This will only work if the plot and flow of the story permits. The ideal point to break would be where the protagonist encounters a serious obstacle that seems insurmountable. Not the final black moment, but similar. So end on a cliff-hanger. That will inevitably require some rewriting. If you’ve captured the reader for the first ‘half’, then ending in this way is likely to entice the reader to seek out the follow-up.

Some books previously published were chopped up into smaller units because of their size – notably The First Chronicles of Thomas Covenant – that ended up as a trilogy (to be followed by others!) Edgar Rice Burroughs ended on a cliff-hanger at the close of The Warlord of Mars, the second in what amounted to a trilogy. Dickens did it all the time with the magazine versions of his novels: leave the reader wanting more. But not all books lend themselves to this kind of surgery.

Be ruthless. Yes, a good author should ruthlessly edit anyway. But many just tend to tinker rather than excise. Follow these suggestions and cut, cut and cut; put the manuscript away for a while, come back to it with fresh eyes and then cut, cut and cut again.  

2. Is every scene doing something to add to the plot or increase our understanding of the characters, or move the story forward? If the scene does none of those things, why is it there?

3. Is all that research that you’ve infodumped really necessary? Can it be condensed without losing the salient points in order to aid the story?

4. Repetition. Time and again I read where the same sentence or two is repeated, though using different words; the sense is the same, twice. Combine, or excise. Same goes for whole paragraphs.

5. Too many characters. This is a tough one. It depends on the type of story, naturally. A saga, or the first in a series, might contain a good number of characters. But do they all do enough to justify being there? Some need to be sounding boards, perhaps, for the main characters; others need to be there so they can meet a grisly demise that will signpost the threat to the protagonist. Fine.

Compare the screenplay of a novel; you’ll notice that some characters have been dropped, while in other cases two or more have been fused into one. (Yes, this is to save on actors’ pay, but it’s also to make the story less complicated). All your characters have to work or they don’t belong; in which case, send them to another work in progress.
 
6. Description. I believe description is necessary to put the reader into the scene. Admittedly, there are authors – and readers – who are happy with minimalist description; or none at all, relying on neat character-filled dialogue. That works, when done well. Though my argument is, it’s a novel that rattles in the reader’s head, not a radio play. Still, there can be too much description. Is all the description through a character’s eyes? Or is it imposed by the author? If you’re writing omniscient POV, then the description may tend to be too rich. If it’s character POV description, keep it tight and relevant, to create mood, foreshadowing or a sense of place and character.

7. Dialogue. Some characters can become irksome, running off at the mouth without let up. These folk need reining in. Does what they say have relevance to the story, to the forward movement of the plot? Occasionally, you can get away with ‘one sugar or two, Vicar?’ when the mood’s appropriate, but be ruthless where possible. Dialogue also falls into the repetition trap – beware, and if found, cut!
 
8. Scene shifts. Scriptwriting gets round much of the tedious bits by scene shifting. Do the same – unless it’s necessary, do you have to relate how your characters get to the next scene? Start the scene with them there.
 
9. Conflict. Without conflict, there’s no story. The conflict doesn’t have to be physical. It can be verbal, psychological, or even caused by the environment. Some scriptwriters arrive at the conflict slowly, letting us get to know the individuals first. That’s fine. But you’ll grab your reader faster and more firmly if you begin with the conflict and then get to know the characters through their actions. Cut the lead up to the conflict – go for the jugular straight away.

10. Tangent. If you don’t watch them, characters can go off at a tangent and take the plot with them. It’s interesting as you go, but is it necessary to the story’s main flow? Yes, you need sub-plots, but you can have too many of them. Be ruthless with the sub-plots and leave them only if they serve a purpose.
 
Finally, don’t discard. That might sound contrary, considering the purpose outlined. If you’re going to excise vast chunks of prose, that’s good. But cut and paste these chunks and save them elsewhere in another document. You never know, some or all of them may prove useful at a later date in another work in progress. If nothing else, it doesn’t seem as if you’ve entirely wasted your time on all that prose! [Whenever I decide to edit, I always start with a new copy, so I’ve always got the earlier version, in case I have an aberration and go too far!] Remember too that the time spent on those words wasn’t wasted; the simple action of writing improves your style every time, every day.
 
Of course, if you have a plot-plan and stick to it and monitor your word-count as you work, you’re less likely to exceed by too much that upper limit. I would estimate that 5,000 words over isn’t going to be frowned upon.
 
Truth is, you can always add more; the obverse is also true, you can always cut more.
 
Nowadays, of course, if you feel you cannot cut your prose to meet the upper limit of a publisher, you can always resort to self-publishing at reasonable cost – though bear in mind that usually every extra page of your masterwork will cost more in production and postage.

***

Advert time.
In my book Write a Western in 30 Days I discuss infodumping, plot-plans, conflict, description and character building.
 
On Amazon.com this book has eight 5-star reviews and two 4-star reviews; on Amazon.co.uk it has an additional three 5-star reviews.
 
This book is a very useful guide for anyone wanting to write genre fiction – that is, any genre, not only westerns. Those aren’t my words, but the opinion of reviewers on Amazon.
 
E-book from Amazon com bought from here

E-book from Amazon co uk bought from here
 
or paperback post-free world-wide from here


Thursday, 14 November 2013

Writing tips - Changing POV

I’ve just read a book, no title, no author, no pack-drill, where the character point of view switches more than once within the same scene. And it isn’t a book written from the omniscient POV. Established authors can get away with it (Why? Don't their editors care?), but this still grates; and, furthermore, if you're not established, potential editors or agents might notice and award a demerit or two, especially if it persists.

Switching POV pulls the reader out of the story, loses the intimacy of a character, and at its worst can confuse the reader.

[I'm being uncharitable towards many editors, I know. When the editor points out this kind of thing, it's up to the author to correct it; the editor can't impose his or her will, he can suggest. If the author won't budge, then... the POV issue hangs there.]

Here are some thoughts on changing POV.

If you change a character POV in a scene, then create a scene break. I won’t labour the point, but an example can be found on p79 of The $300 Man.
 
Corbin too wondered what business Tillman had with Mr Walker.
* * *
Sitting in an upholstered chair opposite Mr Walker who was at his desk, Tillman rested his elbows on the arms and nursed a tumbler of bourbon and branch water. ‘I am perplexed, Mr Walker.’

Thanks to the break, the reader then knows whose head he or she is in – Corbin’s then Tillman’s.

Action

Action scenes can be difficult where there’s a temptation to show how each fighter feels as the blows are exchanged. Resist this. In fact, for each scene, decide whose POV is going to be revealed.

When the scene is first written, I’m not always sure whose POV I’m going to write from, as I’m just writing the interplay, the dialogue and the action. But when I have to layer in the emotion – and possibly thoughts and feelings, such as pain – then I have to decide. Who is most affected in the scene? Then that’s probably whose POV you should use – so go back through that scene and personalize it from that character’s perspective.

Bert laughed and tugged off the woman’s wedding band. She whimpered but said nothing.

         Elijah chuckled. ‘Get another husband, widow. He’ll buy a new ring for you!’

         These distractions were enough. Half rising, Corbin swung his left arm up, the hook sinking into Elijah’s neck. Blood spurted, splashing Corbin’s dark blue flannel shirt and buckskin jacket. Damn, must have hit an artery. Jerking his bloody hook out of the wound, he used it to snag the shotgun out of Elijah’s hands.

         Bert swerved round, levelling his six-gun, his face draining white at sight of his sibling crumpling to the carriage floor.

         Corbin’s right hand grabbed the shotgun. Resting the barrel on the back of the seat, he blasted Bert full in the chest before the bandit could fire off a single bullet.

         The widow shrieked in alarm as Bert fell back onto the floor, ineffectually gripping his revolver. Others cheered. (The $300 Man, pp7/8)

In the above example, there are four characters – Bert and Elijah, the bad guys, the widow and Corbin. It would be easy to get into any or all of their heads – but this must be resisted. This has to be from Corbin Molina’s POV throughout. ‘These distractions were enough’ is Corbin’s thought. I don’t convey it as ‘he thought’ when it’s obvious by the next three words that it’s Corbin’s POV. Then Corbin’s thought – Damn… It’s visual and fast, and we don’t get confused about who’s doing what.

Mixed up action
Action scenes can easily become confusing, especially where the writer is employing ‘he’ but it isn’t always obvious who ‘he’ is. There’s a tendency to jump from one character POV to another. Pay close attention to your action scenes, and make sure you’ve pinned down whose POV you’re writing.
 
Strive to simplify and visualise every time.

- extract from Write a western in 30 Days (pp 64/65)
Amazon.co.uk
Amazon.com

Wednesday, 4 September 2013

‘At the drop of a thought.’

Consistent character Point of view in modern books is supposed to be a prime requirement, yet so many writers stray. Maybe they don’t see the switch. Maybe they’re influenced by too many movies and TV dramas, which effectively shows the audience the director’s POV, not a character’s.

I’m always going on about POV when I edit someone’s book – some more than others, let it be said. And I say as much in a chapter on POV in Write a Western in 30 Days: ‘…character POV is a very important subject for writers of any genre fiction. I’m specifying genre fiction here: literary fiction gets away with switching POV at the drop of a thought.’ (p56)


 
Many bestselling novelists abide by the rule, maintaining a single POV within any scene, thus avoiding the often confusing ‘head hopping’. Two notable practitioners are Ken Follett and George R.R. Martin.


There’s an interesting blog here, offering 20 quotations from Martin on writing:



While George R.R. Martin refers to his primary genre, fantasy, most of the 20 quotes are applicable to all fiction writing, genre or mainstream. Item 13 says:

“I’m a strong believer in telling stories through a limited but very tight third person point of view. I have used other techniques during my career, like the first person or the omniscient view point, but I actually hate the omniscient viewpoint. None of us have an omniscient viewpoint; we are alone in the universe. We hear what we can hear… we are very limited. If a plane crashes behind you I would see it but you wouldn’t. That’s the way we perceive the world and I want to put my readers in the head of my characters.”

Thursday, 29 September 2011

Editing tips - Shifting POV

We’re all told to maintain a consistent character Point of View (POV) within a scene. There's a good reason for this and, for genre fiction, the advice makes sense. The reader is involved with a particular character in his or her head. Jumping from one character’s thoughts into another’s breaks that tenuous link and reduces the reader involvement.

When first writing a scene, it’s possible that you’re not sure whose POV to use. Once it’s down on the page, then decide – usually the person who is affected the most emotionally. If you’re sticking with a single character POV throughout the novel, then there should not be an issue – but make sure no other character’s thoughts creep in!

Here’s a brief excerpt from Broken Silence, a first novel by Danielle Ramsay.

‘In fact he needed to make a call. One he didn’t want Conrad overhearing. He walked over …’
(This paragraph in his POV goes on for nine lines, then it’s followed by a new paragraph.)

‘Conrad studied Brady’s figure from the safety of his car and wondered what was going through his head… He watched as Brady took out his mobile phone, curious about who he was calling.’

Then the narrative switches back to Brady’s POV.

This is lazy writing and editing and unnecessary. All that needed to happen was something like this: ‘Brady glanced over his shoulder. Conrad was watching him. Doubtless wondering who he was calling. He swore under his breath. None of his business!’

Moral: double-check your POV stance.

If that switch is really important – divulging another character’s secrets or inner turmoil, think about making a ‘scene break’. Or convey the other character’s thoughts in dialogue and body and facial responses. Or consider using the character’s thoughts elsewhere, when it’s that character’s longer consistent POV. Usually, though, you can delete these POV switches without much loss to the narrative – and thus maintain a consistent link with the reader.

Saturday, 17 September 2011

Lonesome Dove - a point of view

Published in 1985, Lonesome Dove has rightly gained many accolades and is a firm favorite for thousands of readers. At almost 850 pages, it’s a mammoth account of a cattle drive from Texas to Montana, affecting a cast of twenty or so characters. Its size alone deterred me from reading it until now. (I’ve read War and Peace, Gone with the Wind, and the Pillars of the Earth, among other lengthy novels, so I’m not averse to long books; it’s just that I didn’t think I’d be held by a book about a cattle drive for over 800 pages. I was wrong – mainly because of the characters.)


A quotation at the front, from TK Whipple, Study Out the Land, perhaps sums up McMurtry’s intention. “Our past still lives in us … what they dreamed, we live, and what they lived, we dream.” McMurtry seems intent on debunking the myth of the cowboy; here we find they’re ordinary, not particularly bright, with simple empty lives in a gritty unforgiving world devoid of much culture. Yet, despite this, some of his characters grow into mythic proportions. Going on, though belabored by heart-rending grief, is heroic, and that’s what many in this book do: go forward, go on.

McMurtry employs the omniscient point of view (POV), beloved of so-called literary writers. Not for them the struggle to maintain consistent POV, rather they’d opt for the rather lazy head-hopping that thrusts the reader into the minds of several characters in the same scene. There’s nothing wrong with this, of course – though modern agents and publishers tend to prefer consistent character POV.

The main drawback with the omniscient POV is that the reader doesn’t get into any particular character’s head long enough to form a bond. So when a main character dies – and McMurtry does tend to kill off people the reader’s getting to like – the effect isn’t as devastating as it might have been if the character had been more deeply lodged in the reader’s psyche. By its very nature, omniscient POV isn’t as intimate as individual POV. The author is not only playing God, he’s letting you know he is.

That apart, I enjoyed the book immensely and was moved in parts. I felt that the creation of Gus McCrae is a classic – though inevitably we learn most about him from his voice, not his intimate thoughts.

So, don’t be put off by this tome’s length. It’s well worth reading. There’s a prequel and a sequel too!