Monthly Archives: June 2011

Books I’ve been reading

THE LIVES OF CHRISTOPHER CHANT by Diana Wynne Jones is the Secret Origin of her favorite character, the top-lofty magician Chrestomanci. The mighty conjurer starts out here as the product of a trouble Victorian-era union who’s thrilled to use his planewalking gifts for his charming, roguish Uncle Ralph and not at all thrilled to be groomed as the next Chrestomanci (it’s a job title, not a name). But as it turns out, Ralph is not quite as charming as he appears … Perhaps the most British of Jones’ books, given the emphasis on cricket and the “Millie” books one young priestess falls in love with (they’re made up, but a very British type of school story) and thoroughly enjoyable.
WILD ROBERT is a DWJ fantasy that feels like the start of a novel she gave up on: A young girl whose parents are caretakers at a historic home unintentionally unleashes the half-sidhe heir of the Elizabethan-era owners who proceeds to unleash chaos on the visiting tour groups; this is fun as far as it goes, but the ending with the protagonist resolving to help Wild Robert really feels more like the end of a chapter than of a story.
THE NOTHING THAT IS: A Natural History of Zero, by Robert Kaplan, chronicles how zero began with the Sumerians simply as a way to indicaste there was nothing in a column of numbers; it didn’t become a number itself until ancient Indians started tinkering around with math. Even after that there remained much controversy about zero’s status (Arabs generally considered the numbers to consist of nine digits, plus zero as a separate thing), what effect it had when worked into equations, and about numerals in general (accounts through the middle ages were still written as words or Roman numerals because it seemed too easy to write in an extra Arabic numeral). Interesting, but Kaplan’s insistence on including some sort of literary or philosophical allusion every other paragraph makes this is a chore to read.
THE TROUBLE WITH PHYSICS: The Rise of String Theory, the Fall of a Science and What Comes Next, by former string theorist Lee Smolin argues that the fixation on string theory as the only possible solution to multiple physical problems has created a lost generation of physicists that’s gone nowhere trying to crack the big problems (dark matter, dark energy, quantum gravity). Smolin does an excellent job tracing the history of string theory, which he argues is fatally flawed by being so flexible it’s unfalsifiable: If one theory can’t explain black holes (or dark matter, or the lack of proton decay) a few tweaks provide an alternative that fits (some string theorists have argued the very idea of requiring conclusive proof is now outdated). Smolin also does a good job analyzing the academic world, which he argues is structured so that someone tacking against the wind is unlikely to build a career, and suggests several lines of research that, being testable, may hold more promise (even though he doesn’t like the implications of several of them). An excellent job.
CROSSING MIDNIGHT: Cut Here by Mike Carey and Jim Fern is the first TPB collection of a series about Japanese twin teenagers who discover to their dismay they’re caught up in a war of powerful Kami spirits due to a vow their father unwittingly made to Aratsu the lord of swords when their mother got pregnant. As a result, one twin ends the book in thrall to Aratsu while the other has joined forces with his rival Nidoru, queen of needles, in hopes of saving her. I’m looking forward to book two.

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The week and the 101

I haven’t updated my work on the 101 in 1001 goal list for May because there isn’t much new (other than finished stories which I’ve already mentioned as they got wrapped up). I didn’t complete anything, but I didn’t fall behind on any of the once-a-month goals either.
As to this week’s work, despite the dismal start, it went pretty well.
Savage Wild Magic (the Doc Savage’s daughter/Jim West’s son story) is closer to working. The plot is stronger and I have a better handle on the villain’s agenda. Oh, and I changed it to two female leads. I think it works better that way (but I may change it back).
•I reread Impossible Takes a Little Longer. As I noted last week, I was wondering if the middle of the novel had serious flaws. And yes, it does, but not as badly as I thought: It’s three chapters when KC (my protagonist) goes to New York that I lose the tension and the thread of the story. I think I’ve figured out how to fix it, though. There are a couple of smaller changes, but I think that within a few months I can put the rewrite to bed.
Brain From Outer Space, on the other hand, looks a lot weaker in the last chapters, partly because I didn’t rewrite them very much. At some level, I think I knew I needed to rework the early chapters a lot more before I assessed the finish.
A big part of the problem remains Dani’s personal arc, but I think I have that licked. If I move one scene up to the prologue and then move her role in a First Contact up to Chapter Two, I can work her entirely into an espionage plot I was thinking about (separate——seemingly——from what Steve is investigating).
And TYG completed that project she’s been working on, successfully, today. So that’s a load off our minds.
All in all, I count the week as a win.

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The moment they figure it out

TV writer and novelist Tightropegirl discusses Hitchcock’s old distinction between surprise and suspense. A bomb goes off out of the blue: Surprise! We see the bomb hidden on the bus: Suspense! Or, as TG puts it, the storyline can be open—we know what’s going on—or closed. We know things before the protagonist or we’re at the same page (or in the case of House, which TG works for, often behind)
It’s a cliché of writing-magazine articles that suspense is always better, but it isn’t necessarily. Hitchcock knew that perfectly well, as witness the shocking initial murder in Man Who Knew Too Much. But TG’s point is that whichever approach you take, there’s always a moment the protagonist figures things out (she uses some spoilery examples from the current Dr. Who season, so I didn’t read further).
This is potentially a very dramatic moment. It can also be a very tricky one. You’ve got to have something that clues the protagonist in and steers him in the right direction, and it has to be reasonably plausible she didn’t pick up on it before. This applies whether the revelation is “Dr. Franklin is murdering the board members!” or “Oh my god, Fred’s just marrying Helen for money, I’ve got to stop the wedding!”
In No Good Deed Goes Unpunished, for instance, I had a very hard time figuring out the clue that steers Al Soares to the killer. One reason is that he’s wrong about what’s happening: It isn’t until the next to last scene that he pieces things together. I wanted it “closed”—the reader should be surprised too—so I had to have a clue that wouldn’t be obvious to everyone else, and would still make him show up where I need him (I think I’ve got it licked).
In Brain From Outer Space, there’s some stuff the readers will know well before Steve and Gwen, for example who’s behind the plot against them. They also learn in the prologue that Alan Ross is up to something suspicious. As to the villain’s agenda or whether it’s the Vanguard or the American Order that are the bad guys, I’ll hopefully keep them in the dark.
While reading the parts of TG’s article that didn’t give spoilers, I also started to think about ways in which you can open up a plot to the readers (or viewers):
•A scene from the villain’s point of view.
•A terrorist threat if you know that you can take it seriously.
•POV of a character who learns what the bad guys’ plot is, then dies.
•The hero learns what’s going on, then is made to forget it. The Fu Manchu books use this a lot, mind control being among the Devil Doctor’s many talents.
•We let readers make genre assumptions. Readers will usually assume that in a horror movie, stopping at isolated mansions or castles is a bad idea, and so is walking by a cliff with the nephew you’ve just announced you intend to disinherit.
The moment they figure it out can be scary (OMG, you mean that’s what’s going on?) but it can also be catharctic (now they know! There’s a chance!). Either way it’s important to make it work.

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