Maria Adelmann’s Lithub piece “11 Novels That Thwart Traditional Narrative Structure (to Brilliant Effect)” touches on a nagging question that yours truly (and I’m sure most other writers) think about all the time regarding their manuscripts: Does this thing actually hold together?
I spent more than a decade evolving a manuscript (which is just a really nice way of saying I revised the crap out of it) with several moving parts that I feared might be too much for readers. But Adelmann’s piece is a reminder that readers deserve more credit than they sometimes receive.
And she offers 11 examples of demanding books that are regarded as bestsellers, if not classics, and that readers have embraced over the years. Check it out here: it’s worth your time.
A troubling question every novelist faces.
I could go on about Adelmann’s marvelous insights (and I probably will in future posts), but I’ll just limit it to two responses. For now. Here they are.
1 Focus and voice
I may not be saying this very precisely, but what I’ve learned is that every manuscript works if these two qualities are present. When writers pack too many digressions into their stories (been there) because they don’t want to lose a drop of precious research (ditto), their books veer off course. Everything that you write, even in the digressions, should have a clear relationship to your main point. That’s the “focus” I’m talking about, and many writers achieve it by creating a distinctive style and tone that keeps the reader immersed even if some of the material, at first, doesn’t quite seem to fit.
That brings me to two titles I’d add to Adelmann’s list. Richard Flanagan’s (a nice bloke, btw) Death of a River Guide is a tour de force debut. The narrative structure he’s designed is, how do I put this? , friggen nuts. Aljaz Cosini, the narrator, is drowning, pinned in the rocks of a river. No one can reach him. The novel unfolds as the imaginings of his oxygen-starved mind. Cosini speaks in the first person, but shifts to third as he looks back on his life. At certain moments he brings us back to the present (and first person) before another vision pushes everything into third-person mode again.
Justin Cartwright’s Lion Heart gives us an account of Richard I’s experiences in the Holy Land along with the modern efforts of the main character, Richie Cathar, to research those experiences and learn what happened to the True Cross. At the same time, Richie has a disastrous love affair with someone that should have never happened (no spoiler here), she gets kidnapped, he gets involved in spycraft, has a mental breakdown, and struggles with the legacy of his deceased bohemian father. These situations alternate with Richard I’s adventures.
This book and Flanagan’s pass the test. They hold together. Why? Because the glue that works is the writer never loses focus, and the voice is so well-developed and concentrated that it carries the reader past any confusion. (That’s probably not the best way to explain it, and I’d make some Art of Fiction teacher cringe, but that’s all I got right now.)
2 Third party validation
If you can’t answer the “does it hold together?” question in a positive way, you need help. You need someone—friend, lover, colleague, hired hand—to read the story and tell you what they think. Sometimes, I’ve found, writers are so deep in the woods that they lose perspective on their narrative. Things seem evident because you’ve been working on them a long time—but what matters is, will these things be evident to someone who is probably only going to read your book once?
Friends, keep that in mind, and add your comments or reach out to me with any questions. Onward!