Alive & Knitting

I’ve been on one of my reading binges, chewing through the T.B.R. pile at an alarming rate. Part of the reason I’m reading so quickly is that I’m annoyed.

This, then, is a rant.

You have been warned.

I really like when the stakes are high in a book. It doesn’t matter what kind of a book it is – i.e. what genre – so long as the central conflict is strong. Yes, I want the killer in a mystery to start stalking the sleuth. Yes, I want the obstacle to the H.E.A. in a romance to be formidable. Yes, I want the dark forces arrayed against the underdog hero/heroine in a fantasy to be cunning, and have lots of resources at his/her wicked fingertips. Yes, I want the nut of the story in a literary work to be something seemingly impossible to resolve, something that the author will make me think about in a completely different and new way.

It’s like the author puts a big dark box on the table between us. A scary box that could contain anything at all. As a reader, just having a hint of what’s in there (killer stalks heroine) makes me shiver. I want to know what’s in the box. I want to open the box and see how that conflict resolves.

And I want my H.E.A. too. (That’s Happily Ever After.) I want to see the characters rewarded for what they endure and for how they change. I want them to open that box, face its contents, figure out a solution and earn their H.E.A. That for me gives great reader satisfaction – characters facing their worst nightmare and dismantling it to make their lives work.

I have come upon a spate of books that don’t deliver these things, despite their promise and their high sales. It annoys me to read a book that fails to do either of these things – here’s my imaginary conversation with the author.

Author (heaving big black box onto table): Here’s what my book is about.

Gentle Reader (me – admiring box): Ooooo, what high stakes this book has!

Author (smug): Yes. It’s pretty high concept. That’s why it sold for such a high advance.

G.R. (excited, circling box): But how are you going to resolve it? Why, it seems impossible.

Author: Trust me. You see, here’s what happens first…

G.R. (chapters later, clears throat): But you haven’t talked at all about the conflict, other than setting it up. This is such a big issue – shouldn’t you start to nibble at it early?

Author: I know what I’m doing.

G.R. (reaches for box): But let’s peek inside now. Just, you know, to see how bad it’s going to be.

Author (putting hand on lid): Later. Trust me. Next, you see, this happens…

G.R. (fidgety, looking at box): Um, okay.

Author: And then, this happens…

Author continues, telling story that involves everything except the big black box on the table. Gentle Reader becomes increasingly agitated, like a toddler in a candy store, and makes several attempts to reach for the box lid. Author resists each and every attempt, continuing to drone on.

And on and on and on.

(Yup, this book is episodic, because the author is avoiding its core conflict.)

Author: And then, the big finish!

G.R. sits straighter in anticipation.

Author: And then, the protagonist DIES of her terminal illness!

G.R. (blinking): And that’s the end of the book?

Author (triumphant): Yes!
G.R. (puzzled): So, the way to resolve complex issues is to die?

Author: Well, then you never have to figure it out, do you?

G.R. (annoyed): And neither do you.

Author: Just wait for my next book…

G.R. (leaves in a huff, muttering): Thanks for the insight. I think I’ll pass.

Wouldn’t it be fun to actually have that conversation?

What irritates you in a book? What pushes your buttons and leaves you a dissatisfied reader? Do you need an H.E.A.? Do you like a juicy conflict? Or do you prefer a “gentle read”? If you like gentle reads, tell me why.