Elements of a Good Book

           I’ve been reading a great deal lately, mostly books within my own genre, but also some that are not, including young adult, women’s fiction, historical fiction and even some non-fiction.  Reading all of these has truly grounded me, reminding me why I enjoy thrillers so much more than the others.  I’ve never been accused of being a subtle person and so my taste in many things—music, food, pets, physical activities, cars, you name it—runs along similar strains.  I tend to be a little out there, a bit on the extreme side.  It’s not that I’m flashy or anything, because I’m definitely not.  It’s more because I seem to need more stimulation to really “feel” something, to understand and be connected to it.  I suppose it’s my way of buying into the whole bigger is better mentality I griped about in April.

When I tear it all down and analyze it, it’s easy for me to understand why.  For example, I like raucous, angst-ridden music because I am often both.  Big dogs are so much more fun to wrestle and hug than their smaller counterparts, not mention the intimidation factor when strangers come to my front door.  If I’m going to partake in physical activity, I want it to rock me to my core, because at my age, why else would I risk injury for a little fun?  After spending three years studying food and its preparation, I need something with a good punch, something that will make my taste buds sing.  And I don’t just think of my car as a means of transportation, but rather a form of entertainment, after all, anyone who knows me knows my car is my happy place.  (Yeah, it’s a damn fine car!)

When it comes to books, I can and do enjoy those that don’t knock me over with action.  As long as they have impact on a gut or emotional level, I’m probably going to like it.  But reading outside my genre did get me thinking about those parts of a book that resonate with me most and why I keep going back to those heart-thumping, emotionally draining thrillers I love so much.  So I thought I would tear apart the structure of a novel and see which elements I like most.

First and foremost, the story or plot needs to be explosive with gut-wrenching emotional elements.  I can look past mediocre writing if the story is engaging and entertaining.  And it doesn’t even necessarily need to be an original idea either, just told through unique characters.  Mostly, I need to be able to relate to the story in a personal way.  If the lead character has lost someone important in his life, I remember those same emotions from having lost someone myself and I can therefore connect with the story on an intimate level.  While I think themes can be important in the end, they should never be obvious and a story should never be forced around one.  Subplots should be used to make the characters more complex and draw a common thread through the main story line.  And I want to be taken on a journey, not necessarily to exciting new places I’ve never been, but rather on an emotional adventure.  I think, at its core, that’s why I read in the first place, to have an experience that would otherwise be dangerous or unwise for me.  I love bad boys, but I don’t really want to tangle with them in person.   

I would say characters are next in line in importance.  I love my friends and family, especially my dear husband.  He’s incredibly handsome and fit with broad shoulders and well-muscled through the chest and arms.  Dreamy really.  But we’ve been together for twenty-eight years and while we’ve recently rediscovered our passion, I sometimes need a spark from an unfamiliar source to ignite a fire in me.  This is why I almost always read novels with a male lead.  I need to fall a little in love with him so I know and understand him enough to be willing to go on a rollicking adventure with him.  This doesn’t mean he needs to be dashing and handsome, although that is never a bad thing as long as he’s not cliché.  What I do need is an internal weakness, a flaw or fragility that makes me sympathize and feel instantly connected to him.  I want to feel bad for him and understand his sacrifice, to root for him and hold his hand during his perilous journey.  I need to identify with him, to know I would have a similar reaction if I were in his shoes.  I don’t always need to like him or agree with his choices, but I do need to feel his fear and doubt.  I want his friends and family to give him a hard time and throw rocks in his way.  And I want his adversary to be legitimate in his opposition and to know that there is something strong binding them together.  While the opposition may be evil, I need to understand his side of the story and know that if I were him, I would likely do the same thing.  Characters need to be dynamic, rich and well-developed.  They need to jump off the page and change throughout the story, good or bad. 

Next up, the pace.  Even when the characters are charismatic and the plot explosive, if the pace is slow, I will lose interest and just give up.  I mean, the plot and characters may keep me there for a while when I otherwise would have thrown that book against the wall, but if the pace is a snore fest, I can easily forget how much in love I fancy myself and search for a new romantic interest elsewhere.  Each chapter needs to have its own hook, a reason to be drawn in and continue reading.  I need constant disturbance and conflict, action and reaction.  I need the main character to have a clear objective and know that he’s working hard in each chapter to obtain it, that a new obstacle will be thrown in his path every time.  And that a portal exists at the end of each chapter, one that will leave me so breathless that I want to step through it no matter how late the hour or how tired I am. 

I think I would pick the good use of dialogue next because ultimately, it is what makes the story ring true to the reader.  So let’s say you have a gripping plot, you’ve bonded with compelling characters and the pace is wicked enough to keep drawing you through each doorway.  If the voice and speech of the characters—used to show the action and not merely tell us what’s going on—is not authentic and timely, it falls flat and diminishes the effect of the message.  It tears away the layers of complexity the author has applied to the characters.  And it severely disrupts the flow and ease of reading the words, jarring the reader out of the narrative.  When I write, I say all my dialogue out loud, putting myself in the character’s position and let the natural responses come forward.  Dialogue has to be something people would actually say, in a way they would actually say it.  Most important, it must serve to move the story forward in some way.  No idle chit-chat.  Every spoken word must have a purpose and add to the momentum and stratum of the plot.  Nothing stops a story cold in its tracks like bad or stilted dialogue.  Yet on the other end of the spectrum, great dialogue is core to an even rhythm and flow. 

Speaking briefly about rhythm, I have an obsession with it.  I even dream about it at night with the sounds of words strung together in the fashion of a sentence continuously running through my head.  Not necessarily real words, but just the sound of them, how they flow from one to another and construct a cadence that feels and sounds like music.  I think this is important in writing.  Each sentence needs to feel as good on the tongue as it does to the ears.  Clumsy sentences can be jarring whether it’s dialogue or exposition. 

Lastly, for me anyway, is the writing itself.  Now, I love good writing as much as the next person, but it’s not the “be all, end all” for me.  In fact, I often find overblown, overwritten novels to be boring and telling.  They often exist for the sole purpose of good writing, a testament to skill and study, neither of which I give a damn about.  Just give me a good story, well-paced with interesting and real characters.  Tell me their story in simple, easy to read text.  I don’t have to or need to be impressed with a beautiful selection of words, as long as they are strung together in a clear, concise, and rhythmic fashion, I’m good to go.  I don’t really even want to be aware of the writing, only the story and characters and conflict.  

Setting: Better Real or Imagined?

            Many aspiring writers today lament the fact that the publishing industry is so much more difficult to break into than it was say fifteen or twenty years ago, that the rules are far different.  We even see this in how books are written.  For one, prologues are way out of vogue, or so I hear.  When I find a new book I like written by an author who has been around for quite some time, I go out of my way to hunt down every novel they’ve ever written in that genre.  It doesn’t matter if it’s fifteen years old or more.  If it’s good, it will survive the test of time and the changes the world has undergone since first written, even if it has a prologue.  What difference does it make what the first section of text is called, whether it’s a prologue or chapter one, as long at it helps build the story?  I certainly don’t care. 

Sometimes it can be a little distracting when the author writes heavily about technology.  Take, for instance, Greg Iles’s Mortal Fear.  This was the author’s third published novel and his first away from the stage of World War II.  Iles’s characters utilized cutting edge computer technology for the time, that being 1997, but when you read it today, you’re likely to snicker knowing how outdated all that technology sounds.  So in that way, the written words are not timeless, though the story itself remains so.

            Earlier this month, author John Gilstrap wrote a post on The Kill Zone website called Terrors of Timelessness.  This came just days after the unexpected death of public enemy number one, Osama bin Laden.  Gilstrap speculated that there might be a few writers out there who were not as elated by the news as most of us were.  Why, you ask?  Well, because they were in the middle of writing a novel with you-know-who as the arch enemy.  So if OBL is dead, all their efforts are for nothing, or at the very least, they will have to do a major rewrite.  Gilstrap’s point was that writing fiction grounded in reality “ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

            He used setting as an example.  Gilstrap wrote that his stories needed to be timely and current and because he had to produce one novel every year, to remain timely and current required that he never place his characters in a real setting.  He theorized that while some readers would likely recognize the particular location of a certain scene, most would not and so the reality of the location was irrelevant.  While I understand his point, I disagree to a certain extent.

Sure, when you include details grounded in reality, you run the risk of being inaccurate and therefore drawing a few readers out of the story because they know something to be wrong.  But when you’re placing your characters in a real place, a place you know well, perhaps even intimately, you are able to convey the subtle details that make that place so unique and often so well-loved.  Two of my favorite writer’s, Michael Connelly and James Scott Bell, often place their stories in LA. 

Now, I spent most of my life in Northern California, the Bay Area actually, but I’ve been to LA quite a few times and while I don’t know the downtown city streets at all or the neighborhoods of Topanga Canyon or Mulholland Drive, I have an idea of what they look and feel like and this imagery works well for me as I read.  It presents details that the author never included.

Same goes for Greg Iles.  He writes almost exclusively about his home state of Mississippi, most notably Natchez, where he has lived most of his life.  I’ve never been to Natchez though I’ve heard of its history and seen pictures of the antebellum mansions.  A city ripe with actual historical accounts offers lush layers that can be woven into an author’s characters and stories and Iles does this to perfection.  In fact, I was so infatuated with his description of Natchez after reading so many of his novels that I took a virtual tour through the city using Google Maps.  When Iles wrote about a particular street, I found that street and “drove” up it, scanning the homes and business along the way.

It’s just not the same with an imaginary setting.  There is no history to extract from.  There are no monuments to give the reader direction or a true sense of place.  It’s just an ordinary place much like any other and even if it is richly drawn, the fact that it’s not grounded in reality makes it kind of murky in my mind.  Yeah, I will keep reading and enjoy the story for what it is, but the setting is not as strong of a character as it would have been if it had been an actual place with an actual past. 

This does not relate to other kinds of fiction such as sci-fi or fantasy where half the written word is about world building.  Those kinds of novels start from scratch, as they should.  But in my genre—thrillers—the setting is often nearly as important as the major characters and while you can make up any setting just like you make up your characters, so often our characters are assemblies of who we are and those who occupy the orbits around our lives, so why wouldn’t you want to ground them in a world you know well, a place others can relate to on a personal level? 

No, not all readers will recognize the nuances of your setting, but then again, if it is a made up place, nobody would.  Not really.  I mean, how could they, if it’s not a real place?  If the setting is real, many will pick up on those subtle distinctions so why not allow them the pleasure of something familiar?  And it’s not always important for the writer to have an intimate knowledge of their story’s setting either.  My friend, Lisa Regan, set her first novel, Finding Claire Fletcher, in Sacramento, California, a place she had never been.  But Lisa didn’t need to draw on concrete places to flesh out the setting and as abstract as she was in pointing out particular locations, having intimate knowledge of the place myself made the story so much richer for me, not to mention easier for me to visualize.  It didn't matter that she had never been there.  I had and I knew what it looked like.

The conceptual can be cool, don’t get me wrong, but the familiar is more comfortable and relatable and in the end, I want my readers to be able to relate to all my characters, including the setting, which is every bit as much of a character as the protagonist or antagonist.  So I would be very interested in hearing from some of my readers.  Do you prefer the stories you read to be set in a real location or a fictionalized one?