Thanks to the response on the recent Beautiful People post, we’re launching another blog series! This one is on five of the holes in the literary world that I’d like to see filled. (Credit goes to the lovely Arielle of The Splendor Falls on Castle Walls and Intuitive Writing Guide for suggesting this.)
The first point we’re tackling today is realism, specifically in speculative fiction. “Wait just a dragon-blessed minute,” you might be thinking. “The very reason I read speculative fiction is to get away from boring reality. If you make fantasy or sci-fi realistic, will you obliterate every dragon and spaceship entirely?”
To that I say, “No.”
Because I agree, one reason we love speculative fiction is the otherworldliness of it all! I love dragons! I love superheroes and tech that doesn’t really exist. I love quests and kingdoms and new worlds and magic and everything else that comes with these genres. And I love these things so much that when I read about them, I want to be able to suspend my disbelief long enough to fully enjoy the story. I want to forget that Narnia’s not really at the back of the wardrobe. I want to forget that superheroes aren’t actually blazing over New York. I want to believe just for a few hundred pages that elementals can shape lightning with their hands, dragons rule the skies, and a portal could suck me into another realm at any minute.
That’s what I mean by realism. Not an absence of wonder, but a means of grounding a story so that my mind is free to wonder.
Here are just a few ways that can be achieved. Keep in mind this is opinion time–these are things that help me personally to connect to a story (regardless of genre, actually), but your list might look a bit different!
1. I want all my senses engaged.
This is particularly important for fantasy, or any book that introduces a new world. Fantasy readers want to be immersed. For the duration of the book, they want to live and breathe a new place. But even the most amazing worldbuilding falls flat if the reader feels like a spectator, rather than like he’s inside that world right alongside the characters. Using the five senses is one of the easiest ways to make such a connection.
I want the story details to be deftly painted–neither overwritten to the point of eyeball exhaustion, nor skimmed over with barely a glance. I’d rather not wade through pages of exposition on what a single setting looks like, but neither do I want to encounter “White Room Syndrome.” It’s a bothersome thing when visual details are so lacking that it feels as if the characters are talking heads floating in a white room.)
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I want to see the thunderclouds roiling, the sun beaming through a dusty windowpane, the moss growing like skirts around massive oak trees, the unraveling hem of a peasant’s cloak, the dents and scratches in a knight’s shield.
I want to hear the characters’ voices, the ambient background noises, the clamor of battle, the patter of rain on the roof, the snap of a log in the fire, the rush of wings.
I want to feel the aching muscles after a long day’s ride, the damp rock of a cavern wall, the electric tingle of portal jumping, the swaying of a precarious rope bridge, the blistering flames springing from my hand with only a word.
I want to taste and smell the rain in the air, the smoke of a burning building, the butter melting into fresh bread, the acrid scent of a witch’s brew, the coppery blood when I’m punched in the teeth.
In short, I want to feel like I’m there.
Some books that succeeded in this:
- The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater // I can’t recommend the entire series due to the amount of language and some worldview disagreement, but she is marvelous at conveying setting and atmosphere.
- The Tales of Goldstone Wood series by Anne Elisabeth Stengl // Incredible depth and scope! Even though it’s written in an omniscient point of view, I can see and feel everything.
- Wither by Savannah Jezowski // Part of the Five Enchanted Roses anthology. Very immersive and engaging.
2. I want the emotions to pop.
This is where so many books fall short. Maybe I’m just particular about how I like my characters, but the number one thing I look for is connection. I don’t want to just feel like I’m walking the same dusty road or smelling the same ancient library as they are–I want to smile with their joy, weep with their sorrow, cringe at their pain. I want my pulse to race. I want my breath to catch. I want to feel a laugh rising in my chest.
In fact, I think the lack of realistic emotions is one reason speculative tropes feel so . . . well, cliché. Like two-dimensional cardboard cut-outs with little more than tradition to prop them up. But that also means there’s an incredible opportunity to breathe fresh live into those well-worn tropes with grounded, relatable emotions and reactions!
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Some books that succeeded:
- A Time to Die by Nadine Brandes // I felt Parvin’s ups and downs so deeply. One of the most thought-provoking books I’ve read.
- Eye of the Oracle by Bryan Davis // Despite the fact that this sweeping story covers entire centuries, I felt all of the major characters’ struggles.
- The Lunar Chronicles series by Marissa Meyer // Every character is well-drawn, and each point of view is arresting and immediate. Cinder in particular offers a deep perspective.
3. I want to the world to be beautifully balanced.
There are books, particularly in fantasy, that feel as if they’re checking off a series of worldbuilding boxes. Like the author took a template* and divided everything into little boxes. Each individual box is cool, but none of them work together cohesively. They’re cogs on a wheel, but each are different sizes, so when the wheels start turning, the story jolts. And suddenly I’m a spectator again–or worse, a critic with a red pen.
*By the by, there is absolutely nothing wrong with using templates! I’ve done it! They’re great for helping a writer beef up the parts of their storyworld they tend to neglect.
What I’m looking for is a story where all the moving parts fit together, and each element affects all the others. For example, if we look at a fictional kingdom’s geography, that aspect alone should play a crucial role in:
- natural resources, exports, and imports
- political position
- global influence or lack thereof
- culture
- dress
- food
- history
- wars
- etc.
Are they landlocked? Do they have access to other countries? How rich are they in resources? Which ones? Are these resources scarce in other parts of the world? How does the climate affect what the people wear, eat, and do? What parts of the country’s geography are strategic advantages or disadvantages? How has that impacted wars fought on their soil? Who are their geographic neighbors? Are they on good terms? Do mountains or oceans separate them from each other? There’s so much to delve into based on a single aspect of worldbuilding!
But the book doesn’t have to show all of this “on screen.” That would get rather dry and boring pretty quickly. And because the book is a work of fiction, the author could spend the rest of his or her life developing a single world and never getting around to writing the story that’s supposed to take place in it! So I’m certainly not asking for a set of encyclopaedias about every made-up world. I just want the slice of the world I see on the page to be cohesive and natural.
Some books that succeeded:
- The Tales of Goldstone Wood series by Anne Elisabeth Stengl
- The Auralia Thread series by Jeffrey Overstreet
- The Bright Empires series by Stephen Lawhead
- Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clark
In short, I’d love to see more speculative fiction that immerses me in a believable world and makes me truly feel with the characters.
There are many, many wonderful books that do some or all three points on this list, and I’ve shared only a few of them! I hope this literary hole continues to be filled in the future. Yes, it’s a pretty tall order. But it’s possible.
And as a side note, it’s important to take into account that not all books are trying to do the same things (which could be a whole ‘nother post on its own!), so not every book will hit all of these points with the same amount of gusto, nor do they automatically need to.
But at the end of the day, if a novel can make me feel deeply connected to the characters and solidly anchored in their world, I will probably scream my happiness from the rooftops! That’s the kind of fiction I’m hungry for!