by Mary
A question mystery readers and writers sometimes discuss is, Why are darker books generally considered better than those that use humor or a lighter approach? We reading addicts most likely appreciate both ends of the spectrum, at least a little. We'll have our own favorite types along the curve, but I rarely hear readers say what they prefer is better or better written than another sub-genre, just that the other category doesn't appeal.
So why is it that awards nominations, ones that consider all sub-genres together, usually go to harder-edged books? Why do reviewers judge tales of woe and destruction more often and in a better light than humorous books? It surely takes as much skill, if not more, to write a comic scene well or sustain that comedy over the length of a novel. And why do we as readers tend to rave about these darker books more than the comic ones? Even when we adored the comedies?
I have a theory about that. Wait, not that one. I can see you all shaking your heads and covering your faces with your hands. No, I'm not going for the sexist theory, that lighter books are considered feminine. Or how cozy-bashing is a result of genetic defects in some males who desire the destruction of all that is female. And that the desire is so strong, even the nicest screenwriters and novelists will deny their sexist tendencies as they type out male fantasies of rape, torture and murders of women. And make darned good money for it. I wish I had a penny for every time a woman has screamed in agony on TV and in movies. I'd be a billionaire from HBO alone.
No, this is a different theory entirely. One that has nothing to do with wondering how cozy-hating authors sleep at night, when they capitalize upon the grief and ruined lives of women in the real world, and then stand up and ridicule those very women for seeking comfort in cozies about cooking, sewing and other female-dominated arenas, ones as far away from the horrors of men as they can get. Far be it from me to get on writers who try to undermine a path of escape those women choose and desperately need. Because then, we'd be into my own fantasies and genetic defects. The ones that make me want to wind up and bust a few pompous authors' sorry posteriors to the floor one good time. Hey, you know what, that violent stuff is not only genetic, it's contagious. Maybe I need to cut back on my hardboiled reading. Honey, could you please turn that TV down just a little bit? There. Maybe that will help me maintain my usual sweet disposition, too.
But back to my theory about drama vs. comedy. I think it all comes down to emotions and where they hit us. Comedy hits us in the head. (Remember, this is theory.) You know how you can hear a great joke, laugh yourself silly over it, and then not be able to remember it the next day? You remember you laughed, but you don't know why. The enjoyment comes from a twist on the ordinary or some other mental construct that tickles. And wherever that construct is, whether in the brain or elsewhere, it tends to fade pretty quickly over time.
On the other hand, drama hits us in the gut or the heart. And stays there. When you read high-adrenaline scenes of terror, you feel it in your chest, or your heart might skip a beat. Mine does, anyway. Rich stories about emotional conflicts between people who love each other aren't described as heart-rending or as tear-jerkers for nothing. They affect parts of our bodies that hold memory better and stronger than wherever comedy hits us. So when it's time for awards nominations and we look back over books we've enjoyed, maybe we choose the harder-edged books as favorites because we remember the feelings they evoked better. Just hearing the title of a book I loved can make me put my hand over my heart because that's where I still feel those emotions the author expressed so well.
When a writer can infuse his work with emotion, he's more likely to be a must-read author. Take James Lee Burke, for example. How many times have I read a passage, started crying, and then looked back over a simple sentence to wonder how he got me. Not only can he write characters and situations with emotional punch, he can put it in the scenery, for heaven's sake. I'm reading a book by Stephen Booth right now, and he can do the same thing.
That's what I want. I love comedies. We need those to maintain our sanity, and I've got to have them to get by. But I've got to have that deep stuff, too. That's the fix I'm looking for in the quest for a great read, something wonderful I will remember in my bones. I can do without the gratuitous violence and certainly most of the non-gratuitous kind as well, thank you, but I've got to have that strong emotional hit.
Mary:
You saucy wench. You've hit it on the head.
Humor is so very hard to write, and its purpose is to help let things go. Escaping those gut-twisitng feelings. Relaxing.
Drama is about confrontation. Raising your adrenalin rather than soothing it into submission.
As someone who reads across the spectrum, I like this take much better than splitting it into seperate camps.
Posted by: Julie | January 17, 2007 at 09:11 AM