8 Books I Read In February & Thoughts On Plot
My most recent reading month began rather spectacularly and then fizzled out by the end due to work. I read hardly anything in the last week of February and what I read the week before that was mostly fantasy/YA – this is the type of fare I tend to go for when work is intense and stressful.
In some ways I’m quite happy when I’m forced to read lighter, more entertaining stuff (forced in the sense that my brain is too tired to digest anything more serious) – I read less SFF these days, because there is so much else I want to get through, but I always enjoy it. This time around, it also proved rather enlightening. I think it’s fair to say, despite the wild generalisation, that genre literature tends to be more plot driven than contemporary literary fiction. I wonder if the literary disdain for plot is related to the fact that in science fiction, fantasy, horror and romance, plot is often (although not always) central.
Be that as it may, I’m generally not bothered by the lack of plot. I do feel strongly, however, that the ability to devise an engaging story line is a special skill, one that many otherwise wonderful writers struggle with. I have read a lot of modern, highly acclaimed fiction recently and have noticed that while the books are excellent at atmosphere and description, the plots are much less strong. I don’t mean the absence of plot as a conceptual or stylistic choice, I mean plots that just don’t quite work. I do therefore want to raise a glass to the genre writers who cannot afford luxuries like this and have to make the story work.* I have been reminded that a good plot is a special pleasure.
With this mini rant in mind, here’s what I read in February:
1. The Water Cure by Sophie Macintosh. Enter book one where atmosphere beats the plot. To be fair, the atmosphere is truly amazingly done: an isolated island, a lone family, the three sisters, the weird treatments. It is a quick and compelling read that explores gender, bodies and power in an eerie environment. It does not leave you with much, however, and you need to figure out for yourself what the events mean.
2. Ghost Wall by Sara Moss. Ghost Wall tackles many of the same themes as The Water Cure – patriarchy, the bodies of (young) women, the fear of the other. But while The Water Cure has a vaguely future-ish flavour, Ghost Wall is clearly set in the past (70s? England and in a way, the Iron Age). I liked it a lot: the young protagonist is wonderfully written and the prejudices and the abuse make perfect, if horrible, sense. It is a very short and tight book that you can read in one sitting. The only issue I have with it is the ending: it feels rushed and very deus ex machina to me, not really worthy of the rest. It feels like the writer didn’t not know how to end things – and that brings me back to my point about plots being difficult. I would still very much recommend the book, though.
3. Everything Under by Daisy Johnson. Yes, you guessed it – I admired the atmosphere, disliked the plot. Johnson’s book in fact provides a fascinating example for my thesis, as she resolves the plot issue by replacing it by fate. She borrows a plot the Greeks used a long time ago and turns it into a modern story. Except that it doesn’t work, at least for me. The concept of fate is stripped of its original context here and it’s difficult to make the story believable within the constraints of an ancient myth. It feels unnatural and contorted. Which is a pity, because Johnson is a talented writer and I would have gladly read a story about mothers and daughters and a muddy river, minus the Greeks.
4. Washington Black by Esi Edugyan. This is another interesting example, because although it’s a very new novel, it feels rather old fashioned. It is a story of a slave with a remarkable destiny that involves a flying machine, octopedes, the Arctic and Marrakesh. There is no literary snobbishness here, the structure borrows from classic adventure stories and it is – especially at the beginning – a very engaging read, effortlessly written. The second half of the book illustrates again, how difficult it is to do a good story convincingly. Towards the end, there are so many coincidences that one ceases to be amazed. There are elements that cannot quite decide if they are magic realism or not. All the balls that were thrown in the air need to come down again, but they are difficult to catch and need to be manipulated into the right position. I can absolutely see why many people love this book and despite my complaints, I like it, too. It is also only fair to admit that after all my trouble with the plot, I applaud the ending.
5. The Cruel Prince by Holly Black. And in the opposite corner, we have Holly Black with her new Folk of the Air series. Admittedly, this YA story with fairies is not quite at the same literary level with the books above. It is, however, plotted with extreme precision and skill. While I did not appreciate some of the tropes it uses – I am about 25 years too old to be the target group -, it is very well done it its own genre. It is also interesting because it gets truly unpleasant in places and I still haven’t made up my mind about the way it approaches a couple of topics. The protagonist isn’t just said to have questionable morals, her morals could indeed do with a review. Despite (or maybe because of) that, it was an entirely compulsive read after about the first 50 pages.
6. The Black God’s Drums by P. Djeli Clark. This one is an interesting counterpoint to Washington Black, taking place in a fictional New Orleans, with the US history playing out a bit differently to our world (plus it includes some African gods). I enjoyed it a lot, despite its small size it’s a rollocking story and because it doesn’t cover that much ground, it stays focussed. It has a slightly steampunk feel with the special flavour of the South. It also gets bonus points because I was convinced the author was female – the voice of the young girl protagonist felt totally convincing.
7. The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi. Not all SFF writers are natural plotters and I have a feeling that Chokshi isn’t. She is great with characters and banter, however – at least she is in this book, as I disliked The Star-Touched Queen with a passion. Anyway, The Gilded Wolves feels kind of like Six of Crows taking place in the belle époque Paris and not being quite as dark. Chokshi relies a bit too heavily on puzzles and mystery to move her plot along, but it is a very entertaining story with enjoyable characters. At least if you’re into gorgeous, super smart, charming and of course damaged teenagers.
8. The Book of Humans by Adam Rutherford. This non-fiction work doesn’t fit very well into my plot-themed post. Or maybe it does, as Rutherford is a great storyteller. I absolutely loved A Brief History of Everyone Who Ever Lived and wowed to read everything he has written. The Book of Humans isn’t quite as good, but it’s still wonderful. It looks at what makes humans different from other animals and it’s all rather fascinating. Plus you’ll learn many weird things about sex.
How was your February? Any literary favourites or disappointments?
*There are bad plots and – especially – cliches in genre writing too, of course, but they aren’t as easily forgiven.
I think you are absolutely right about plot and realize that I often forget what happened, even in books I like a lot, because often the writing, atmosphere, characters, and scenes are more or as important to me. Washington Black – I know I liked the book despite an aversion to the piquaresque, but I can’t for the life of me remember what happened at the end. I remember the end of Ghost Wall because it was so disappointing. The Daisy Johnson also didn’t work for me. But I think I disagree about The Water Cure as the ambiguity and plot irresolution seemed key to what she was doing. And of course I haven’t read the SFF, so I can’t compare. I do want to read some soon, but I am picky when it comes to the genre!
In other news I just got a hold of some Teresa Helbig Old Money and it is very nice!
I am very bad at remembering plots, too, and generally would also go for atmosphere over plot. Often the only thing I remeber about a book is a certain fluidum (not sure it’s an actual word in English?). It was just satisfying and quite a contrast to read something with a very disciplined narrative after The Water Cure, Ghost Wall and Everything Under.
And you are right about The Water Cure, my views on the book were somewhat confused by my overall thread here. I didn’t have an issue with the plot, I was quite gripped until the very end – I simply thought the mood was the strongest element. What I did feel, though, was a certain conceptual confusion that left me unsure if the author knew what she ultimately wanted to say. As you pointed out, the ambiguity was certainly intentional, I just didn’t feel it was entirely convincing, if that makes sense? I enjoyed the book when I read it and I found a way to interpret it that worked for me (I’m sure there are many options). After a while, however, it felt a bit like a collection of stylistic tricks and trendy themes – I know I’m being too harsh now, it is clearly more than that. I’m just trying to explain the root cause of my partial dissatisfaction.
I am so glad to hear you are liking Old Money! It is not the most striking/original perfume ever, but I enjoy it a lot.
Your observations are exactly on the mark. It seems to me that lately I’ve been reading a lot of literary fiction that’s more character driven with underdeveloped or unconvincing plots. There’s a lot of style in these books, but not much substance. Plot is hard. It takes a long time to construct, which usually precludes dashing off a novel. Creating characters is its own challenge, of course, but it’s a very different one, and when it comes to autobiographical fiction the characters write themselves, so to speak. In addition, the endings of these books aren’t strong. Ghost Wall and Everything Under are both examples where I reached the final page, frowned, and said, “That’s it?”
Exactly – plot is hard to do. And sometimes it’s a less appreciated skill than it should be.
Also, I think reading quite a few new releases back-to-back has reminded me why I’m such an omnivorous reader in the first place: I get tired of the sameness. Even if the books aren’t that similar, they share a time and its preoccupations; when I read contemporary literary fiction, the authors tend to be women, often English-speaking, intellectual, probably feminist. It is not the fault of the books, so if I want to enjoy them and be fair to them, I need to branch out.
Definitely hear what you are saying about The Water Cure. I found its puzzles intriguing compared to some other similarly themed recent novels. As you say, the thematics really cluster. Have you read Akwaeze Amezi’s Fresh Water by any chance?
I’m kind of arguing with myself on The Water Cure, as I was mesmerised by it when I read it and in hindsight feel I should have resisted a bit more:) I have not read Freshwater and it wasn’t really on my radar until I say the Women’s Prize longlist. Have your read it? It does sound like something I might enjoy.
I also wanted to come back to the science fiction/fantasy topic. I have made peace with the fact that genre stuff simply isn’t for everyone and even people with whom I have almost a 100% overlap in taste otherwise just do not enjoy SFF (or only enjoy the literary fringe of the genre where you could argue The Water Cure also belongs). However, I do wonder what you’d make of Jemisin’s Broken Earth series. It is definitely proper SFF, not literary fiction sprinkled with magic realism or a bit of dystopia, but it is also very well written and explores topics I think you’d find fascinating. It’s not an easy read even for seasoned genre readers, but then experimental literary fiction isn’t a walk in the park either and probably gives you tools to make sense of the thing. Plus you are a very intelligent person, so that helps:)
A disclaimer: I am wary of labels in literature and think genre books should be treated equally to everything else. However, personally speaking I feel there is a certain core to the SFF that differentiates it from all other literature; I don’t think it can be quantified in any way – it’s a bit like with porn, I know it when I see it. I just want to make the point that when I say “proper SFF”, it’s not meant as a value judgement, I simply find the notion useful when I discuss books with people.
The Jemisin is on my too-read shelf, so I’ll let you know! I shouldn’t say I don’t read SFF, as there are things I read with great pleasure in the genre and on the edges. I mean, where do you put VanderMeer’s work? I love early Octavia Butler as much as I love any contemporary-ish fiction. And I am dying to read the new Marlon James book, but need a stretch of time when I can immerse myself.
I just read Kathryn Davis’s new book, which is as weird and uncategorizable a little book as I have read in quite a while. I love half of her books, dislike a couple, and am slightly bewildered by this one, although not in a sad way. But it definitely plays around with SF tropes, as well as with the recent spate of feminist Tarot packs that are the rage in certain circles in the US anyway. She’s not explicit about that, but I don’t know how else to understand it. Anyway, it made *The Water Cure* seem like a model of clarity!
I am really very curious what you’ll make of Jemisin. I think VanderMeer is definitely genre to the core, but also writes in a way that open-minded non-genre readers who like more experimental literature can enjoy. He is a very interesting example, as is Butler: there is no way to pretend their work isn’t genre, but it’s very literary at the same time. Jemisin is a more conventional, although I feel she uses the SFF tropes in a very original and powerful way.
And what’s up with this feminist tarot? I have always found tarot fascinating (I tend to like everything that combines symbols with an elaborate structure), but isn’t it a bit like… feminist astrology or something?