Terrible Tropes: Oracular Vernacular...
There are times when I read things and develop an urge to burn them, and not just in the take-a-match-to-them-and-watch-them-singe kind of way. No, what I'm talking about it a good old sacrificial offering, of the burnt variety, preferrably modernized a touch with accelerants and napalm. I suppose George Lucas had a similiar impulse when he discovered that pirated DVD copies of his Star Wars Holiday Special had made it to Ebay. Frankly, I can't blame him. The film is both a fiscal and creative embarrassment. I'd want to obliterate it too, if it weren't funny.
Which is precisely my point: pretense is only tolerable when it's funny. Take away the humor and all you're left with is self-importance. That's why we love self-effacing leaders, even when they do things that are morally repugnable (see "Bill Clinton, blue dress", for reference). It's also why I hate writing that employs the oracular vernacular, which can loosely be defined as "prophetic and/or declarative statements expressed in cagetorically broad terms and framed in thematically specific contexts." The latter part of the definition is important here; for something to be oracular vernacular it must go beyond the context of the actual scene.
Consider the following example:
She shrugged. "I was saying that the Chatelaine Thecla is not the Chatelaine Thecla. Not the Chatelaine Thecla of your mind, which is the only Chatelaine Thecla you care about. Neither am I. What then, is the difference between us?"
"None, I suppose."
While I was undressing, I said, "Nevertheless, we all seek to discover what is real. Why is that? Perhaps we are drawn to the theocenter. That's what the hierophants say, that only that is true."
She kissed my thighs, knowing she had won.
But consider this: who starts a sentence with "Nevertheless" while engaged in foreplay? Also, who's the audience? We know the prostitute is talking to Severian (the main character) because she focuses on his conflict. Severian, however, rebuffs her and then immediately goes into "we all...". At this point, he's speaking directly to the reader not as a character but as a mouthpiece for the author.
Gone are the scene, the seduction, the setting, and the story; in their place we are left with an author, a podium, and a captive audience. Granted, we can get up and leave, but the offense has already been committed. Instead of subtext, we find writ in large:
The truly pernicious thing is that's it's a choice. Wolfe could have rescued the scene. He could have had the prostitute comment on Severian's intellecualizing a sexual act. But Wolfe doesn't. Instead, the prostitute sidesteps the issue altogether, as if the glaring exclamation point that just emerged on the page was invisible to her. And it a way, it is; after all, it's the voice of the author breaking through the story. Technically, it's not part of the story at all.
And yet, some people love it. The success of Paulo Coelho's work proves that, especially the monstrosity called The Alchemist. To this day, I don't think I've ever been hit over the head with an idea so hard.
Then again, Coelho was aiming for a bilblical imperative, and he makes no bones about it. His is not a course of action that I'd suggest for most writers, though. Unless your aim is to mirror the success of The Secret, The Celestine Prophecy, or Ishmael. All of which (in)famously declare themselves "life-changing works."
Of course, if that's what you want to write, go for it. And Godbless.
All I ask is that you don't call what you write a novel.
Why?
Because it's not.
It's an essay.
And frankly, we shouldn't be embarassed to write essays. Just look at the The Best American Essays of the Century sometime. Those guys knew how to say what was on their minds.
Which is precisely my point: pretense is only tolerable when it's funny. Take away the humor and all you're left with is self-importance. That's why we love self-effacing leaders, even when they do things that are morally repugnable (see "Bill Clinton, blue dress", for reference). It's also why I hate writing that employs the oracular vernacular, which can loosely be defined as "prophetic and/or declarative statements expressed in cagetorically broad terms and framed in thematically specific contexts." The latter part of the definition is important here; for something to be oracular vernacular it must go beyond the context of the actual scene.
Consider the following example:
She shrugged. "I was saying that the Chatelaine Thecla is not the Chatelaine Thecla. Not the Chatelaine Thecla of your mind, which is the only Chatelaine Thecla you care about. Neither am I. What then, is the difference between us?"
"None, I suppose."
While I was undressing, I said, "Nevertheless, we all seek to discover what is real. Why is that? Perhaps we are drawn to the theocenter. That's what the hierophants say, that only that is true."
She kissed my thighs, knowing she had won.
(excerpted from Shadow and Claw, by Gene Wolfe)
Technically, this is not bad writing. Even the small bit I've provided gives the context of the scene (a seduction), avoids clunky dialogue tags, and reveals details about the character (i.e. his perspective).But consider this: who starts a sentence with "Nevertheless" while engaged in foreplay? Also, who's the audience? We know the prostitute is talking to Severian (the main character) because she focuses on his conflict. Severian, however, rebuffs her and then immediately goes into "we all...". At this point, he's speaking directly to the reader not as a character but as a mouthpiece for the author.
Gone are the scene, the seduction, the setting, and the story; in their place we are left with an author, a podium, and a captive audience. Granted, we can get up and leave, but the offense has already been committed. Instead of subtext, we find writ in large:
Behold, reader! I have revealed truth! Read it and know and be enlightened!
The truly pernicious thing is that's it's a choice. Wolfe could have rescued the scene. He could have had the prostitute comment on Severian's intellecualizing a sexual act. But Wolfe doesn't. Instead, the prostitute sidesteps the issue altogether, as if the glaring exclamation point that just emerged on the page was invisible to her. And it a way, it is; after all, it's the voice of the author breaking through the story. Technically, it's not part of the story at all.
And yet, some people love it. The success of Paulo Coelho's work proves that, especially the monstrosity called The Alchemist. To this day, I don't think I've ever been hit over the head with an idea so hard.
Then again, Coelho was aiming for a bilblical imperative, and he makes no bones about it. His is not a course of action that I'd suggest for most writers, though. Unless your aim is to mirror the success of The Secret, The Celestine Prophecy, or Ishmael. All of which (in)famously declare themselves "life-changing works."
Of course, if that's what you want to write, go for it. And Godbless.
All I ask is that you don't call what you write a novel.
Why?
Because it's not.
It's an essay.
And frankly, we shouldn't be embarassed to write essays. Just look at the The Best American Essays of the Century sometime. Those guys knew how to say what was on their minds.
