“Characters are in books; you’re not going to have lunch with them.”
At Fictionaut, Meg Pokrass asked Daniel Handler five questions about writing fiction. The fifth–”What makes characters likable?”–inspired talk like so:
For one thing, I’m always mystified by discussions of likable characters. Characters are in books; you’re not going to have lunch with them. Moreover, the best books are full of trouble, so the characters are either in trouble or causing it. Most people aren’t likable in such situations.
Even if by “likable” we just mean “characters we enjoy reading about,” rather than “characters who seem like people we’d like,” then we’re not really talking about characters at all. Otherwise, the characters would be fully portable, and readers would find Lady Macbeth equally compelling in a Harlequin novel and in Macbeth. (I suppose there are people who consider Han Solo to be an equally compelling character in Star Wars novels #12 and #43, by separate authors, but, um, give me a break.) It’s like saying that the great thing about Kind Of Blue isn’t Miles Davis, but the trumpet itself. Such a compelling instrument!
Thus, character is bunk. There is plot, and there is voice, and they conspire to create an illusion we call “literature.” It is a glorious illusion and a compelling one. When a writer tells me they’re worried about a character they usually mean there’s a flaw in the plot, or the prose just isn’t pulling things together.
Diameter of a Circle Jerk
The recent “Bubble Boy” hoax may be read as an example of how people are, or wish to be, famous for being famous. Think of “New York” (person) from Flavor of Love who got her own show for being an awesome ho, or Octomom, or those bitches from The Hills or The Kardashians. People work on being famous instead of just working. These examples are “lowbrow,” but we are not exempt.
I have a hard time commenting on someone’s blog, or even this website, telling so and so I really liked their post or their story or whatever. If my feelings are very strong, I email them. If I can’t find their email, I say to myself: “This person will do fine in life without getting an email from me,” or “it should not matter to this person if I like their story — they should be writing on behalf of the story, not its reception.” And it all fits perfect in my head: 1) writers write, 2) readers read, and 3) everybody lives a nice modest life, 4) in relative obscurity, and 5) maybe one day, if applicable, a writer may be recognized, however mildly, for their contribution to literature.
Adam Robinson—
But if everyone just reposts (slash-republishes) their stories at Fictionaut, won’t I just go there to read everything?
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Jimmy Chen—
Fictionaut is officially launched. Feels like the facebook of lit: everything hyper-linking to another thing, each page view, each comment, each user, each group. You can share it, pdf it, fav it. I don’t mean to sound critical — I mean, we at htmlgiant thrive off the inertia of our comments and the other viral aspects of the web — it’s just that, well, I think we’re getting a little widget crazy. Each wonderful story feels inundated with a viral capacity that distracts me from the story. Sorry to be a drag, and much respect to all the users/contributors, I just feel weird.
Writing Spaces at Fictionaut Blog
Fictionaut has announced a new blog feature, Writing Spaces, “dedicated to the desks, cafes, libraries and retreats where Fictionaut writers work, providing a window to the physical places where some of the stories on the site originated.” The first featured writer is Stephen Stark, whose writing space appears to be a tiny barn.
Those of you interested in writing spaces might want to check back every now and then to see what goes up. Should be a cool time over there.
(via Monkeybicycle)
