C Is For Crappy

I’ve lately become a fan of Pub Rants, a fantastic blog run by a very informative literary agent. If you want lots of insider tips, go clicky. In her latest post, the blogger (whose name I’ve forgotten; sorry!) mentions the Twilight books as a good example of very popular fiction. She’s a big fan of the series, which as a character flaw ranks up there with ‘compulsive cannabalism’ but hey, nobody’s perfect. She poses a question in relation to the books, though: why are they so popular?

Given that I have a dim view of humanity and Stephanie Meyer fans in general, my initial answer would be something like ‘people are stupid and Twilight caters to that demographic with the enthusiasm of a starving dog prostrating itself before a man with steaks strapped to his arms’. All right, that’s not entirely fair: if I’m talking from the point of view of someone who doesn’t go to sleep at night picturing Edward Cullen’s head on a spike, I have to admit that the books deftly combine romance and the supernatural in a heady cocktail whose appeal to…certain readers (look at that, I didn’t say ‘idiots’!) is obvious.

Mrs. Pub Rants (I swear I’ll learn her name soon) suggests that analyzing a popular work of fiction like this can help one’s own writing, and I agree. Most literary types (read: arseholes) like to make fun of writing with an explicit aim towards being popular, but ‘popular’ is what most writers really want to be. I’m not conceited enough to think that I’ll be remembered in times future as the next James Joyce or JRR Tolkien, nor do I particularly want to be; I’d take fame and fortune over having 5-credit college classes based on my work any day. So what can I learn from Twilight? Mainly that if you’re writing for a specific market, you may as well go all the way with it. Don’t give people half a story that they want and half a story that they don’t; in other words, as much as I hate to admit it, it was a good move on Meyer’s part to not include a bunch of adrenaline-filled fight scenes in an attempt to appeal to a wider audience. She told the story she wanted to tell rather than diluting it, and it worked.

Now, to make up for all of that, the Twilight movie trailer is the stupidest thing I’ve seen in years and the guy playing Edward has a moronic haircut.

On to today’s review! While in England last week I found myself desperate for a new book to read, and the nearest place that sold anything more than magazines was the local Sainsbury’s. Supermarkets aren’t known for their stellar selection, and this place was no different. I ended up buying a Sue Grafton omnibus for six pounds, which includes the first three books in her Kinsey Millhone, which chronicles the episodic adventures of a private detective. I wasn’t expecting much going in, but I actually enjoyed the books and finished the whole thing to the end. I know, I was as surprised as you are.

First, let’s get the good stuff out of the way: Kinsey is an amusing protagonist and she manages to be a strong female lead without descending into the ‘badass bitch’ stereotype that’s become so popular recently. Each story has the appropriate number of twists and/or turns, and the outcome can be genuinely surprising.

Now, on the far more interesting bad stuff! The writing is stiff and in some areas downright amateurish, as in the unfortunate paragraphs that read, essentially ‘I woke up. I went and made some coffee. I got into my car and drove to Suspect X’s house. I wasn’t looking forward to this’. I lost track of who several important characters were on a number of occasions, and while I wouldn’t want you to disregard the possibility that I’m just an idiot, I suspect it has more to do with the fact that they vanished for long stretches of time before popping back up again with no reminder of their relationship to the other characters. As well as that, the ending to the first book is one of the worst I’ve ever seen. We’re made to sit through a too-long and far too-boring chase scene across a beach which abruptly ends in Kinsey shooting the main suspect dead. It’s not surprising in the least when it happens because we knew a shooting was coming right from the start, and it makes the entire ending seem rushed.

Actually, that’s a problem in all three. Kinsey generally gets into a situation where she has to face the murderer one-on-one (something I really wish crime writers would stop doing) before abruptly either killing one of them or knocking them unconscious. Bang, end of the book. It’s jarring to say the least, and doesn’t really feel all that satisfying, but thankfully Grafton averts the tired old ‘I went into the store and bought a few objects, one of which was round and had an elephant painted on the front; this was certainly going to help me solve the case!’ routine. If you have to resort to your narrator being intentionally obtuse to create tension then you’re doing something wrong, especially if your story is being told from the third person.

Anyway, I enjoyed the Omnibus despite its flaws, and will probably pick up the fourth book in the series next time I see it. If you’re looking for a fun diversion with a detectiving flair (it’s a word, really) you could do a lot worse.