Can I defend literary fiction? Part 3: The Alternatives

A few days ago I started a chat about literary fiction. In Part 1 I said (a) if I want to read something touching, I like it to be delivered with subtlety; and (b) that while I can enjoy moustachio villains, bad coincidences, and sadism in 80s entertainment lit, I resent it when an author mingles these elements with Serious Topics.

In Part 2 I spoilered the book that prompted these thoughts: The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. (FYI I read the graphic novel adaptation.) What I disliked about it were: the mustachio twirling villain, the bad coincidences, and the rape/child molestation/child suicide sensationalism.

I'm not a fan of using Grapthar's Hammer when a regular hammer will do. If you're writing pulp fiction then slamming the crap out of a nail is what's needed--shocking twists and crazy turns are part of the fun. We'll tolerate (just barely) a psychopath spending twenty years training man-eating pigs to take revenge on Hannibal Lecter, ending with a kidnapping and some brain eating. But the best literary fiction draws itself short of such anvil dropping, because it just isn't necessary for the purpose of most stories--to draw out emotion, or touch on a theme.

An author can use a series of indignities, like Death of a Salesman. Or a series of heartbreaking events that unfold slowly and painfully-realistically, without melodrama and fanfare, like A Fine Balance. Or a quiet evening that lays bare the intense sadness of a life, like The Glass Menagerie. Or a big stormy noisy story about something not inherently awful, but awful for the characters, like the "mendacity" of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

Or perhaps a one-off resounding thud--just one--that changes the course of everyone's lives, like Atonement. Or a bunch of desperate, sad characters stumbling about (The Imperfectionists) or stumbling about with frogs (Magnolia). Or a single revelation that subtly shifts the boundaries of a protagonist's life, like discovering your father's having an affair (My Son's Story.)

Or the author puts the characters in a House of Horrors but employs a light touch because the situation is already so awful it doesn't require embellishment, like Maus (will discuss more next time.) Or the horror remains in the background, and the author only employs one big thud--like the guy suddenly fidning himself in a vast field of dead bodies, in The Killing Fields. Or most of the violent action is far away, but we see its impact on the members of a remote community (the Congo's independence in The Poisonwood Bible.)

Hosseini could have employed any of these techniques and The Kite Runner would have been improved. Okay the bully rape scene happens, but he doesn't appear later in the story, and the raped servant needn't be so blindly servile. Or he gives in to the bully and is assaulted anyway. (Speaking of which, why don't the bullies take the kite in the end? Weird.) There could still be an orphaned son, but he doesn't have to be abused, he could just be lonely, or traumatised at losing his parents--withdrawn and mistrusting for any number of poignant reasons. He could have become a street kid, old too early, hard to love (like those monsters in the favela movie.)

No dramatic fight scene with the magically reappearing bully. No suicide attempt. Or the boys could have grown apart for a less dramatic reason, like Amir and his father moved to the US, leaving Hassan behind to face all that was to come? (I think that's the idea behind Hage's DeNiro's Game.) I haven't even mentioned that Hassan turns out to be Amir's illegitimate brother. That one revealed secret could have fueled the book. Or the one parallel of Amir unable to have kids, and Hassan leaving an orphan, could drive a whole story.

All these things in one book, it's too much. rape! betrayal! death! secrets! orphaned! coincidence! molestation! fight scene! betrayal! suicide! EASE.

Next time I'll talk about Maus as a counter example.



 

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Can I defend literary fiction? Part 2

Yesterday I began my little defense of literary fiction. I basically said (a) if I want to read something touching, I like it to be delivered with subtlety; and (b) that while I can enjoy moustachio villains, bad coincidences, and sadistism in 80s entertainment lit, I resent it when an author mingles these elements with Serious Topics. Now onto the to-be spoilered Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. FYI I read the graphic novel adaptation.

The Kite Runner is about a boy Amir and his servant friend Hassan before the Soviets invaded Afghanistan. Hassan professes undying fealty to his little lordling, and one day is cornered by bullies while retrieving the kite that'll show our protag won a kite contest. Of course--because we all know the loyalty of the servant classes--Hassan refuses to give up the kite, so the bully anally rapes him. Our hero sees it happen but doesn't interfere cause he wants the kite win. But he's ashamed after and drives servant boy away.

In adulthood it's Taliban era Afghanistan. Servant boy Hassan is dead, and hero goes off to find sb's orphaned son. It turns out Sohrab's been taken from the orphanage by a Taliban leader to be raped and molested. And the Taliban guy turns out to be the bully who raped sb. (In the book apparently Baddie is also into Nazis. He doesn't twirl his moustache, but he does have one.)

Our hero tries to take the boy away, is beaten up by bully, and saved by the boy. I don't know why this boy, who's being prostituted, immediately trusts Amir, defends him and runs off with him and believes everything he says. Presumably the servantboy gene runs in the family. As if this story wasn't already over the top tragic, our hero then breaks a promise to the boy, who slits his own wrists. Why was this extra delightfulness needed? I guess to put the boy in a position if now being closed off and mistrusting Amir. ...Which the author could have realistically accomplished by the mere fact that the boy's been abused and molested. But then I guess Amir would have had to save himself from his beating.

Boy lives, they go back to America together--yes naturally Amir hasn't been able to have children, so this all works nicely. Hassan, servantboy extraordinaire, has given up his own life so that Amir can have a son. And the story finishes with hero professesing the same fealty to the boy as sb did to him, and so everything turns out alllllright. Right? Amir never did fuck-all for Hassan, but he's gonna raise Hassan's boy and now we have beautiful closure.

I probably don't need to tell you why I thought this story was awful, but I'll touch on it a bit tomorrow. And then present the counter example.



 

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