I've read a fair number of these apologia for genre fiction, and they still fail to convince. Every so often I pick up a "Year's Best Mystery" or "Decade's Best Sci Fi" collection, or read one of the latest highly-touted Brit policiers, just to see . . .and all this stuff has the same basic problem: It isn't very well written. Not necessarily execrable (though Stephen King...really) but noticeably worse than first-rate mainstream fiction. Is this because genre-writing itself dumbs down prose? or because the best writers aren't interested in genre-writing? or some third thing? No idea, but the fact remains.
Sorry.
(And yes, I too could trot out three or four exceptions. We're talking here about the rule, though.)
I think I'll let you take the coming salvo on your own, John. I haven't actually read that much genre fiction - though I find Andrew Klavan good, and Elmore Leonard at his best is very good. I stop reading them if they're not well written. On the other hand, there is some really bad writing in Russell Banks's latest. I didn't get into it in my review, due to lack of space, but the descriptions of lovemaking toward the end were jaw-droppingly bad, a judgment concurred in both by my 16-year-old intern (who called it "cringe-making") and by The Inquirer's deputy features editor Michael Rozansky.
Oh dear, Frank, am I likely to get cannonaded? Yikes!
Any discussion of this sort has to deal, rather miserably, in generalities. All I mean to say is that, generally speaking, genre fiction isn't very good. I too admire Elmore Leonard (he'd be one of the counterexamples I'd trot out) and, while I haven't read The Reserve, I could without difficulty find plenty of cringe-worthy passages in lit-fiction. The point is that most highly-regarded (if I'm to judge from the blurbs, and selection by anthologists) genre fiction seems worth about a C-, whereas most highly-regarded lit-fiction is in fact pretty good -- worth a B, anyway.
For what it's worth, here's where I think the difference may lie. A really good example of so-called lit fiction - say, Larry Watson's superb The Orchard - when it works simply resonates more and more deeply because it grapples with life on so many more levels that genre fiction tends to. A lot of genre fiction - Donna Leon's mystery series, for instance - is principally meant as a divertissement, and at the level can be quite satisfying. But it's never going to satisfy as fully and deeply as something like Watson's book. Then, there's something like Graham Greene's Brighton Rock. Practically in a class by itself.
That's very perceptive, Frank. And it reminds me of one strength that a certain kind of genre fiction has, that lit-fiction doesn't. I'm thinking of well-drawn series characters (Sherlock Holmes, Nero Wolfe, etc.) whom we get to know intimately by dint of their repeated appearances over decades. Hardly any lit-fiction deals in sequelae of this size. An interesting case: By writing to please an audience (they want more of the same old characters), a genuine, cumulative literary effect is achieved.
I've read a fair number of these apologia for genre fiction, and they still fail to convince. Every so often I pick up a "Year's Best Mystery" or "Decade's Best Sci Fi" collection, or read one of the latest highly-touted Brit policiers, just to see . . .and all this stuff has the same basic problem: It isn't very well written. Not necessarily execrable (though Stephen King...really) but noticeably worse than first-rate mainstream fiction. Is this because genre-writing itself dumbs down prose? or because the best writers aren't interested in genre-writing? or some third thing? No idea, but the fact remains.
ReplyDeleteSorry.
(And yes, I too could trot out three or four exceptions. We're talking here about the rule, though.)
I think I'll let you take the coming salvo on your own, John. I haven't actually read that much genre fiction - though I find Andrew Klavan good, and Elmore Leonard at his best is very good. I stop reading them if they're not well written. On the other hand, there is some really bad writing in Russell Banks's latest. I didn't get into it in my review, due to lack of space, but the descriptions of lovemaking toward the end were jaw-droppingly bad, a judgment concurred in both by my 16-year-old intern (who called it "cringe-making") and by The Inquirer's deputy features editor Michael Rozansky.
ReplyDeleteOh dear, Frank, am I likely to get cannonaded? Yikes!
ReplyDeleteAny discussion of this sort has to deal, rather miserably, in generalities. All I mean to say is that, generally speaking, genre fiction isn't very good. I too admire Elmore Leonard (he'd be one of the counterexamples I'd trot out) and, while I haven't read The Reserve, I could without difficulty find plenty of cringe-worthy passages in lit-fiction. The point is that most highly-regarded (if I'm to judge from the blurbs, and selection by anthologists) genre fiction seems worth about a C-, whereas most highly-regarded lit-fiction is in fact pretty good -- worth a B, anyway.
For what it's worth, here's where I think the difference may lie. A really good example of so-called lit fiction - say, Larry Watson's superb The Orchard - when it works simply resonates more and more deeply because it grapples with life on so many more levels that genre fiction tends to. A lot of genre fiction - Donna Leon's mystery series, for instance - is principally meant as a divertissement, and at the level can be quite satisfying. But it's never going to satisfy as fully and deeply as something like Watson's book. Then, there's something like Graham Greene's Brighton Rock. Practically in a class by itself.
ReplyDeleteThat's very perceptive, Frank. And it reminds me of one strength that a certain kind of genre fiction has, that lit-fiction doesn't. I'm thinking of well-drawn series characters (Sherlock Holmes, Nero Wolfe, etc.) whom we get to know intimately by dint of their repeated appearances over decades. Hardly any lit-fiction deals in sequelae of this size. An interesting case: By writing to please an audience (they want more of the same old characters), a genuine, cumulative literary effect is achieved.
ReplyDelete