in which I speak of Nancy Drew moments
In a recent long weekend involving hundreds of miles of road travel (yet another distraction from my writing time) I had the occasion to listen to Sue Grafton’s novel Q is for Quarry. I’ve listened to many of her alphabet novels through the years; they’re a reliable story for listening to. The plots are compelling and the characterization, while sometimes over baked, is engaging.
So I’m a bit uncomfortable writing this post since I want to make some complaints about the novel. Normally, when I find problems with novels and post about them here, I don’t identify which I’m talking about. It doesn’t seem charitable in our business to be finding fault with each other. I think my complaint in this case, however, is with the editor not with the writer.
I’ve mentioned before the unfortunate phenomenon of Nancy Drew moments, in which a writer interrupts the narrative to give an inventory of what a particular character is wearing. I generally consider this to be more noise than signal; it’s hardly ever important to know what a character is wearing. (I usually promptly forget how the person was described and get on with the story.) Yet this novel is full of these interruptions. Just about every single time a character is presented, Grafton gave a run down of their clothes. In a couple of cases, these were helpful as part of character development: the vain character, the slob character. But most of the time it just read like a sudden halt in the plot. A needless sudden halt in the plot. A jarring, needless, sudden halt in the plot.
There were also countless incidents of elegant variations throughout the novel. Granted, these alphabet novels are narrated in first person, and perhaps Grafton wants her protagonist to be verbose in some cases, but it all sounded clumsy and affected. The protagonist “availed myself of the facilities” (went to the bathroom) and other such overwritten statements that didn’t seem like necessary euphemisms or enlightening character quirks. I was cringing nearly every mile as I listened to the story on my road trip.
But as I said above, I think my complaint is with the editor rather than the writer. I’ve discussed before what I call the “successful author syndrome” in which an editor doesn’t want to mess with the writing of a commercially successful author (or can’t be bothered to put in the effort?). But surely any writer serious about the craft would welcome at least the suggestions of an editor serious about that craft. I imagine if I submitted a novel written like this an editor would spill red ink all over it. I would want my editor to spill red ink all over it.
I continue to be baffled by what I see so commonly in successful fiction. Grafton, I’m sure, can write better than this, but is she being pushed to?