The Not A Novel Novel

 

I recently read a series of books, written in a diary format, none of which could really be called a complete novel, at least individually. Nevertheless they spin a wonderful story. All sorts of events take place. There are lines, well, threads, of plots running through the books, but there are so many of them, many seemingly leading nowhere, only to reappear and disappear in the next book. Characters are introduced, expanded upon, and yet remain mysterious.

But what is missing, at least as far as I can determine, is the rigid structure writers often use to construct a story. Still, the author says that she has an overarching plot, and knows where the story's going, but it will take 18 or 24 books to get there. As such, this is overarching plot is indistinguishable from the quantumness of life itself. I think this is wonderful. There's no three acts to be found in the books. at least that I can distinguish. The cat in the story doesn't have to be saved. And yet, I found that I had to limit myself each day on the time I spent reading these books, so as not to race through them too fast... Even so, eight books in two weeks... Plots, who need plots?

Some readers do. There are, no doubt, readers who do want and expect a plot, and will complain if there doesn't seem to be one in books that may be more focused on characters or ideas. I'm not one of them. I want pleasant characters, themes of friendship, and clever, witty writing and dialog. Give me that, and I'm very happy without a plot, or even a story. That then, is my bias when I say that I greatly appreciate the seemingly unstructured approach this author has taken with her books, even if they are not as unstructured as they appear. 

As I see it, life generally doesn't unfold in three acts. Well, maybe for some people, who live crisis to crisis, drama to drama, it does, but for most, its a series of, well, one damn thing after another damn thing, with, hopefully, a few bright things liberally tossed in as well. And I see no reason why fiction needs to make life so artificial to fit comfortably into a book in three acts. It's the journey rather than the destination sort of thing. I'm all in on the journey with good and witty company, and in no hurry to arrive. I suspect, however, that a lot of plot orientated readers care little for the writing itself, as long as it carries them to the destination. Everyone has their own tastes, so I give them their joy, even if it's not mine.

My bias is also reflected in my writing. I never think of my books in terms of acts, or cats. I simply want to tell some sort of story and tell it as entertainingly as I can. Now I do try to have some sort of satisfactory destination, but I try to arrive there naturally, and then, leave the door open for my characters to live on, their lives unrecorded.

By writing in the first person, the story is being told by a character from within the story itself. And I make it a point to have the narrator tell the story from within the story as it progresses, meaning that even as the narrator is "telling" the reader the story, he doesn't know how it ends himself. In several of my books, I use something like a diary format, used in the series of books that inspired this post, but not a believable diary, as no one would remember and record all the dialog I use as a diary-like entry. While recording a story in the middle of it makes for somewhat less that "proper" tenses at times, it conveys the idea that the narrator is in jeopardy, something that is missing when the narrator tells the entire story looking back on it. The one thing I don't like is stories told by old people telling stories of their youth. My characters don't get old. That has been my fate.

Most importantly, I do not want to see or sense the hand of the author in the structure of the novels I read. For me, when I see the hand of the author building the structure of a story, and making puppets of their characters, that curtain between the Mighty Oz and the little man in the corner, is ripped away. I become aware of the inauthenticity of the world, the characters that the author meant to bring to life. To heck with drama. I want life.

Reviews of the books that inspired this post are coming in April. Stay tuned.