Having recently passed through (one might say “survived”) a
blog tour concerning my novel Vine,
it seems like a pretty good time to address one part of the experience.
The reviews, which were mixed/favorable, tended to major on
the things that I usually hear. People
liked the things I expected them to like, and had reservations about the things
that usually draw misgiving. Said
misgivings often major on the texture of the language (I write in long
sentences because they slow the eye and make one think in nuances; I sometimes
use obscure words—I was once called a “poseur” by an Amazon reader, which made
me smile, because I believe that any English speaker who uses the word “poseur”
is, well, a poseur). Others contend that “nothing happens”, and I will admit
that there are few swordfights, rappels down the side of skyscrapers, and
cold-cocking of a dozen ninjas in a long bout of foot-fighting; for me, “what
happens” to most people—the events that define their lives—are nuanced changes
in the way they understand things, the way they regard each other and
themselves. That being said, there’s a
virtue in more thunder and lightning, and I’m working toward it. In summary, one
of the mixed reviews objected that the book was not for the “casual reader,”
and though to me that is neither a badge of honor nor a valid critique, I’m
fine with my work being characterized that way.
What I don’t get, however, is the insistence on finding a
character with whom you can “identify”, or at least how “identify” is used when
people say that. We all identify with characters in fiction, but I submit we
have to do part of the work in order to do so: and in that lies the cool part.
You have to stretch.
It’s one of the ways that fiction deepens your understanding, but it’s
not like mainstream TV, where the viewer can passively identify with characters
so broad and typical that you can dilute almost any of your own personal traits
to fit that character on the screen. In
short, you identify passively, because that’s the way the character is
designed—to reach the widest market.
I like what fiction does
better. How it takes you out of your
comfort zone, and, with a little work on your part, brings you to understand a
character with whom you don’t readily
“identify”. How it expands your
prospects.
In VINE I made up a character named Bucky Trabue. A chain-smoking, right-wing Republican
operative with a dose of outrage and corruption. Now, in real life, I would be appalled every
time one of his candidates won office, but in the book I began to like him: I
framed my imagination to see the world the way Bucky saw it, and I came out
understanding him, and in a way identifying with him. Certainly liking him, and emerging maybe a
bit deepened from the encounter. He has
a part in the new thing I’m working on: I liked him enough to ask him back.
You may not want to stretch with the characters you read
about. May want to sit back, relax, and “identify”
in a generalized way. And no, I’m not
criticizing you for making that choice.
Just saying that not all fiction makes that kind of transaction, and
that meeting someone different than you—in real life or in fiction—can be a
good and healthy rendezvous.
