…or, ‘I Am Not Five, and I Don’t Read Like This:’
I’ve recently followed some online critiques of other people’s science fiction and fantasy works-in-progress. I noticed a common factor: some readers’ inability or unwillingness to deduce words from context.
One example: a friend’s Norse-flavored take on the Tam Lyn folktale held seven or eight generally unfamiliar words within the first 2900-word chapter. I could parse those words from contextual clues, and from knowing a tiny bit of Saxon and Old English (thank you, professor Tolkien!) From the other readers’ comments, I realized the words that intrigued me actually bothered them.
The readers seemed unable to accept one different word, let alone many, without an immediate explanation within the story. They seemed unable to hold that word (or many) in mind, until an explanation came up in the next paragraph, page, chapter, etc.
If the answers were not presented immediately, the readers balked. Some wanted to stop reading, until the text was rewritten with the explanation given right away.
What the hell? Is this a function of shorter, simpler texts in genre writing fashions? Too much Dick and Jane for older readers? Power-point presentations in elementary school, for younger readers? Text speak? The twenty-second soundbite of most modern media?
These are not low-skilled readers unfamiliar with science-fiction and fantasy, either. Otherwise, I might think this is going on.
(Putting Old Woman hat on for a moment). When I was a kid in the 1970s, one of the big thrills of reading science fiction and fantasy was the disconnect between words and the revelation of their meaning (and often significance). I loved the strangeness of new words and concepts. I trusted the author to give me contextual clues or an outright definition later. Sometimes much later. If I was lucky, at least it happened in the first book of a series…
Writing to reward the short attention of readers is tricky. Too many explanations too soon in the body of the story, and we verge on infodumps, ‘As You Know, Jim’ discussions, and other awkward literary devices. Too few explanations, and we’re off jousting with shadows in Foggy Metaphor Land.
I wish I could tell those reluctant readers: ‘Please try to trust the author to give you signposts when they think it’s appropriate. When in doubt, dictionaries, Google, and Wikipedia can be your friends. In the meantime, just try to enjoy the ride.’
Thinking here of all the books that were strange lands I visited, where I had to learn the language. A Clockwork Orange. Riddley Walker. You needed to learn the lingo before you could read them. No – wrong, Lorna, you learned the lingo *while* you were reading them. Then there were the worlds where you learned some of the local language. Dune. Don’t Bite the Sun/Drinking Sapphire Wine. We could go on. Language is endlessly wonderful. I’m just unable to comprehend someone liking speculative fiction stories and baulking at the language-play that is intrinsic to creating other worlds.
I know! Wading through those stories was like my own private Indiana Jones movie, as I stumbled around picking up clues and being rewarded with plot twists. Makes me sad for those readers who avoid Scary Words.
Even good contemporary fiction can urge a certain level of audience participation.
Great post, and I agree. Clarity is important, but clarity does not necessarily equal simplistic.