Believable Co-incidents in Fiction

This post is from an article by Steven James on the Writers Digest website dated September 7, 2018. The focus of his article is making co-incidents believable.

“We’ve all read stories in which the cavalry arrives just in time to save the day, or the hero just happens to find the time machine/ray gun/escape hatch/shark repellent right when he needs it in order to survive the climax. Although coincidences may happen in real life, they can kill believability if they appear at the wrong time or aren’t handled the right way in a story.

Coincidence is necessary to get a story started, but is often deadly at the end. However, too many authors use it backward: They work hard to get readers to buy into the plausibility of the beginning, but then bring in chance or convenience at the climax—when readers’ coincidence tolerance is at its lowest.

For handling coincidence deftly, follow these seven strategies to unlock its power.

7 Clever Strategies for Harnessing Coincidences in Fiction

Strategy 1: Capitalize on the coincidence that initiates your story

We don’t typically think of it this way, but really all stories start with a coincidence.

Stories begin when the author dips into the stream of cause and effect and pulls out a moment that initiates all that will follow. Readers accept this without consciously identifying the event as coincidental:

  • The young couple serendipitously meets in a tiny Parisian cafe.
  • The suicide bomber ends up killing the president’s niece in the airline attack.
  • The woman’s fiancé is diagnosed with terminal cancer the day he proposes marriage.

Readers don’t say, “Yeah right. The detective who ends up being the protagonist just happens to be assigned to the case that this book is about. I don’t buy it.”

Of course not. Readers know that a story must start somewhere and, whether they realize it or not, an event that doesn’t require much in the way of explanation typically gets things rolling.

Use the story’s opening sequence to justify incidents that would otherwise seem too convenient. This is where coincidences will fly under your readers’ radar.

For example, a cryptic phone call can set up a number of storylines:

“So, is the meeting still on for 7?”

“No. We’ve had to move it back an hour so Fayed can make it.”

“And we’re still on target for tomorrow at the raceway for—”

“It’s all set. Everything is set. Now, no more questions.”

If this type of conversation occurs early on in the book, readers won’t much care why it was Fayed couldn’t come at the originally scheduled time, and you don’t have to explain. However, if the conversation were to happen later in the story, readers may very well be wondering why Fayed was going to be late—and they’ll be expecting a good reason.

If your story requires the inclusion of an unlikely event, move it closer to the start—or even use it as the inciting incident—to capitalize on your readers’ willingness to suspend disbelief.

Strategy 2: Avoid justifying what readers readily accept

In contrast to what we’ve just established—that the earlier a coincidence occurs in the story, the less it needs to be justified in the minds of readers—many authors spend excessive time trying to explain why the opening should make sense.

Often, they’ll include an exciting hook, then drop into backstory to explain what instances led up to the hook occurring. This not only hurts the flow of the narrative, but also decreases escalation and hampers your readers’ engagement with the story.

Can lightning strike the person standing beside your protagonist during the first scene of the story? Yes, of course. Is that a coincidence? Absolutely. Will readers accept it? Sure, because that’s how the story begins.

Can lightning strike the bad guy at the climax right when it looks like he’s about to kill the hero? Well, technically anything can happen, but if it does, it’s likely to solicit eye rolls and book throwing—unless the main character somehow causes that to happen through a conscious choice and in a way that readers will readily believe but not anticipate.

Does your hero need to know karate late in the story? Show him sparring early. You don’t need to explain why or when he started sparring; you don’t need to give a history of all the karate tournaments he’s been in since high school. All of that information is unnecessary. He’s a black belt. Got it. Now move on.

Strategy 3: Leverage genre conventions

Coincidences are more acceptable in some genres than in others. For instance, fate tends to play a bigger role in romance, fantasy, and horror: The lovers are destined to be together (regardless of when in the story that destiny is revealed), the prophecy about the young wizard must come true, and readers might anticipate that the demon will somehow survive at the end to wreak havoc again.

In those cases, or when the thematic nature of a story revolves around fate, destiny, prophecy, or divine intervention, coincidences play a bigger role in the story’s progression.

However, most people believe that free will plays a more significant role in our destiny than fate does, so even in genres that are friendly to coincidences, consider searching for a way to have a freely made choice rather than simply destiny or an act of God resolve things at the climax.

Strategy 4: Point out coincidences in the middle

Every coincidence except the opening one requires a leap of faith. So, the further you move into a story, the more coincidences will undermine believability.

Certain forces press in upon a story to help shape it—believability, tension, escalation, characterization, and so on. Sometimes authors overlook the importance of causality, or the fact that each subsequent event in a story is causally linked. In other words, every event is caused by the one that precedes it.

At times, the flow of a story might require a break-in causality, a jump in logic, or the necessity for something inexplicable to happen. If that’s the case in your story, readers will often sense a gap in believability—unless you point it out to them.

You can do this by having a character note that what’s happening seems unbelievable:

“It just doesn’t seem like Judy to lose her patience like that.”

“I can’t believe he would say that.”

“I could tell something was up. She just wasn’t acting like herself.”

Readers will think, “Aha! Yes! I thought something weird was going on, too!” And, rather than be turned off by what seems too unbelievable or too convenient, they’ll be drawn deeper into the story. They’ll trust that there’s more going on than meets the eye and that, in the broader context of where the story is heading, this event will retrospectively make sense.

Strategy 5: Anticipate readers’ reactions

Be your own worst critic of seemingly arbitrary events in your story. Think through the reactions that readers will have to the events as they occur:

Oh, that’s convenient.

I don’t buy it.

Yeah, right.

This doesn’t make sense.

Why doesn’t he just …?

We often talk about silencing our inner critics when we write, but this is one time when you should listen to that voice. When it pipes up, find a way in your story to answer it.

Strategy 6: Look for what’s missing

Avoiding coincidence isn’t just about spotting what does occur that’s not the logical result of the preceding events, it’s also about recognizing what doesn’t occur that should, given the current circumstances.

For example, the woman is being chased by the knife-wielding killer. She runs out of the house and tries to fire up the car—it won’t start. (Oh, that’s convenient.)

So, she gets out of the car and runs to the cellar instead of toward the highway. (I don’t buy it.)

Where she rallies her strength and punches the killer in the face, knocking him out. (Yeah, right.)

In those three cases, the coincidence comes from the actions she takes. But such contrivances are equally ineffective when they come from what should happen but too conveniently does not:

She carefully and quietly steps over his unconscious body to get to the staircase again. (This doesn’t make sense. Why doesn’t she tie him up, finish him off, use that knife of his against him?)

Any time your readers would have one of those reactions, you’ve identified a coincidence that needs to be addressed in the service of the story’s believability.

Strategy 7: Foreshadow to remove coincidence from the climax

Of all the scenes in your story, the climax should contain the least amount of coincidence. Foreshadowing is a powerful tool that can serve to remove coincidence, and thus the climax should be foreshadowed more than any other scene.

I’ve already pointed out that in far too many stories, things are reversed. Why do so many authors use coincidence to resolve the climax? Well, because they’re trying to come up with an ending that readers won’t guess. As the author brainstorms ways to surprise them, he also runs out of believable ways for the protagonist to solve his own problem, or to make the defining choice of the story in a way that will satisfy readers. It’s much easier to just put the protagonist in a terrible fix, stick her in
a situation that looks impossible to escape from, and then have someone else show up in the nick of time to save her.

But that’s lazy writing, and it’s not giving readers what they want.

Conclusions depend on choices, not on chance, coincidence, or rescue. By definition the hero should do the rescuing rather than needing to be rescued. He makes a choice that depends not on coincidence but instead on causality, and that choice determines the ending of the story.

Think back to Strategy 2: If your character needs that Swiss Army Knife at the climax, foreshadow earlier that she has it with her. If he needs to be a rock climber, show him on the crag with his buddies in a previous scene. If she needs to be able to solve complex mathematic equations in her head, foreshadow that she’s a human calculator.

The location, the character, the asset (or liability) that comes into play at the climax—anything that ends up being significant to the outcome of the struggle—should have been introduced long ago, or it’ll seem too convenient that it arrives when the protagonist needs it most.

At its best, foreshadowing should make so much sense in that earlier scene that readers don’t notice that the scene is foreshadowing anything at all. Only later, when that special skill, ability, or asset shows up again, will readers think, Oh yeah! That’s right. He knows how to fly a helicopter. Excellent. I forgot about that.

Readers should never think that the story’s conclusion “came out of nowhere,” but rather that it logically followed all that preceded it, even if the story ends with a twist.”

Aging

There is an essay on the Electric Literature website about how one writer confronted her aging process; it in titled ‘Mirrors Tell the Truth but Not the Whole Story’, and it’s written by Stephanie Gangi.

Stephanie Gangi is a poet, novelist, short story writer and essayist living and writing in New York City. Her debut novel, The Next, was published by St. Martin’s Press and her second, Carry the Dog, from Algonquin Books in November 2021 and has garnered early praise. Gangi’s work has appeared in, among others, Arts & Letters, Catapult, LitHub, Hippocrates Poetry Anthology, McSweeney’s, New Ohio Review, Next Tribe, and The Woolfer. She’s working on her third novel, The Good Provider.

Stephanie Gangi

“Years ago I wrote a poem, “Mirror Window.” The gist of it was that I kept mixing up the words, mirror and window; I said one when I meant the other. It was alarming, I was not yet forty, too young to lose language. My daughters noticed and teased me about being old, as daughters will, and I wrote about that, kind of a circle of life thing.

I’ve gone back and read the poem and it’s not bad, but like all my writing at the time and from years before, from my teens, I filed it away and distracted myself with being young: sex-and-drugs-and-rock-and-roll, i.e., men, and then marriage and a shiny, happy family in a house on a hill. I have conflicted feelings about this. On the one hand, I was distracted from writing by love, lucky me; on the other, love was conditional or finite, humans being human, especially me. The writing was a constant, but me as a writer was something—someone—I could not see. I thought of it as a hobby.

In my late 40s, I tried “Mirror Window” again. This time it took the form of an essay, which came about because I was in possession of a large, antique mirror that I didn’t like but couldn’t get rid of. Let me go back.

I got the mirror when my mother died a decade earlier, not just my mother but my father too, he in March and Ma in June, both suddenly, neither yet seventy or sick. I was thirty-seven years old, an only child, or an adult only child, and a mother myself, in a complicated marriage. I was left with a split level to sell in the dead middle of Long Island. The contents were all mine, down to the coffee cup in the sink with Cherries in the Snow lipstick left on its rim. Consequently, the objects and furnishings and jewelry held—hold— outsized sentimental value.

Time passed, the parameters shifted. Love was indeed finite. My marriage ended and my little family reconstituted itself. We moved, with the mirror, to where we fit better with one less of us. That’s when I decided to paint its frame, give it a new look for my new life. I laid it out on a tiny patch of city yard on a sunny day, and in the course of sanding it down, I was on my hands and knees hovering over my reflection, focused on the task, not noticing myself. And then I did, and I saw how I’d look if I were on top of someone. How I looked during sex was on my mind at the time—I was a divorcée, it was still called that—because I was having a lusty adventure with a man seventeen years my junior. I was on top regularly.

The vantage point over my reflection showed my hair hanging in lank curtains on either side of my face, red with exertion. Gravity plus the sanding effort yielded sagging and swaying. The word “jowls” made itself manifest. I’d never looked my age before, but kneeling over this mirror, I sure did.

The distracting fling with this guy had turned into foolish fantasies about a life together. Once during pillow-talk, we did that thing of revealing something each had never told anyone else. My dark secret: Botox. We both reveled in our age difference but the truth was, I’d been trying to hide it. His dark secret? He admitted that he would stay a relationship’s course until someone new came along to provide him with a reason to leave. I knew this was true. It was the case with us; I had recently been the new one. “Mirror Window” was an essay about heartbreak. Once again, I filed my work away.

It turned out there was more to it than heartbreak. It turned out that refinishing the mirror gave me a window into a future with him I could not countenance, in both senses of the word—countenance like face and countenance like support. The truth is even if I had not sagged over the mirror that day, I was already worried about being where I am now, here in my sixties with a younger man who’d all but warned me he’d be watching for the exit. People do tell you who they are, and you should believe them, and he did, and I did.

So I reframed. My longest, truest commitment, to writing, was never a hobby. It is what I do and who I am. First novel at 60, forthcoming novel at 65, third in the works. Now and then the hot chill of regret passes through me. I should have started sooner. I should have been less high, less young, less seductive and less seduced, less distracted. Well, wait. That’s not right. I was full of life and love, and sorrow, joy, and disappointment—the open heart. Regret is beside the point. I know there’s no grace in that.

Let me keep going.

I am still new at being me, the writer. I have so many ideas that I cast around too long before I settle on something. A writer friend advised, “Just write about what you always think about.” Mirrors and windows. It’s not a sophisticated metaphor, but it is simple, it is effective. In my work, my women think a lot about how to age gracefully even as they learn to recognize themselves in their new old faces. They stare into their bathroom mirrors and wonder what to do about the jowls even when they are nobody’s lover, let alone on top. They too are startled when they catch an unexpected reflection in a shop window.

Two crazy things happened recently on the same locked-down day. I went through my apartment in a pandemic-fueled mission to spruce things up. I decided to repaint the frame on my mother’s mirror again, it’d been a long time, and I wanted it to match a smaller mirror that I bought at a yard sale in Montauk thirty years ago, with an infant in my arms and a toddler hanging from my legs. I was inspecting this smaller mirror and I was surprised. Oh. It’s a window frame. A window frame, fitted with mirrored squares instead of clear glass. I’d had it for so long I didn’t register it anymore, even though I passed it several times a day. I actually own a mirror window.

Not an hour later, I picked up a package containing the manuscript of my new novel—about distorted memory, accepting who you once were, and recognizing who you are now—from my editor. I poured some red wine and sat down, thrilled and grateful to see his old-school, handwritten edits on manuscript pages. On page 178, there was a strong delete mark through the word “window,” and his caret and note indicating it should be replaced with the word “mirror.” I’d done it again.

Mirror window. It wasn’t a mix-up, I hadn’t lost language. I was telling myself something I couldn’t hear yet. I was showing myself something I didn’t see yet. It’s like the two words were saying, and kept saying, Look inside, look outside, write it down, make it your life.

My daughters are now old enough to tease each other about getting old; I’ve aged out of the joke but I’ve revised the old poem, newly titled “Last Laugh,” wherein I give myself the final word, a circle of life kind of thing. I revised the saggy-jowls essay, and this is how it’s ended up:  published, not filed away. I’m tunneling into the third novel, and in an opening scene my protagonist is holding a chaotic yard sale, everything must go, including her dead mother’s furniture, including a window frame fitted with mirrors for panes, just like mine.”

Review: Hostage to the Devil

I mentioned having bought this book when I bought Glimpses of the Devil. The two books are quite different, not only in the authors’ styles, but also, Glimpses is a scientific report by an amateur exorcist. Hostage is a researched report on the experiences of six, third party exorcists. Glimpses is a psychiatrist’s report; Hostage is the report of a high-ranking priest in the Roman Catholic Church. Still, the two books come to the same conclusions about the reality of demonic possession and the methods of exorcism.

Wikipedia says that the author, “Malachi Brendan Martin (23 July 1921 – 27 July 1999), also known under the pseudonym of Michael Serafian, was an Irish-born American Traditionalist Catholic priest, biblical archaeologist, exorcist, palaeographer, professor and writer on the Catholic Church.

“Ordained as a Jesuit, Martin became Professor of Palaeography at the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome. From 1958, he served as secretary to Cardinal Augustin Bea during preparations for the Second Vatican Council. Disillusioned by the council, Martin asked to be released from certain aspects of his Jesuit vows in 1964 and moved to New York City.

“Martin’s 17 novels and non-fiction books were frequently critical of the Catholic hierarchy, who he believed had failed to act on what he called “the Third Profacy” revealed by the Virgin Mary at Fatima. His works included The Scribal Character of the Dead Sea Scrolls (1958) and Hostage to the Devil (1976), which dealt with Satanism, demonic possession, and exorcism. The Final Conclave (1978) was a warning against Soviet espionage in the Vatican.”

Father Malachi Martin

There are five exorcisms described in detail in Hostage. The first possessed is Marianne, a young single woman in New York City. The exorcist is Father Peter, and the demon is The Smiler. The exorcism involves violence and the demon recalling in grotty detail Peter’s sexual adventure with a girl friend before he was ordained. The exorcism was successful, but Peter died a year later, a psychologically damaged man.

Then there is Father Jonathan, a priest who is a possessed nature worshiper, and Father David, who as a natural scientist is nearly possessed by the same demonic spirit, Mister Natch, as Father Jonathan. The exorcism is stopped for a period of months while Father David recommits his own faith. Jonathan’s mother exerts her faith to save her son.

Next is Father Gerald, the exorcist, the Girl-Fixer, the demon, and Richard/Rita a transsexual who is possessed. Father Gerald is physically attacked and injured by Girl-Fixer during the exorcism. This exorcism was also adjourned for a period of weeks while Father Gerald recovers. The demon leaves Richard with threat to deal with Gerald after his death.

This is followed by Jamsie who is semi-possessed by Uncle Ponto, a lower level evil spirit who wants to make his abode in Jamsie and try to control him. This is termed ‘familiarization’ or possession by a familiar spirit. Father Mark expels Uncle Ponto, but he then discovers that there is a senior demon, Multus, wants to take possession of Jamie. Father Mark uses Jamsie’s will to complete the exorcism.

In the last case, Carl, a prominent parapsychologist, who can read minds, travel back in time, and who has learned he was a Roman in a prior life is possessed by the Tortoise, an evil spirit who was able to create Carl’s illusions for him. Father Hartney is the exorcist. During the exorcism, Carl is reluctant to let go of the privileges which the Tortoise has given him, but he finally decides he wants freedom of mind, body and spirit.

There is a sixth exorcism mentioned in the book, briefly. It is the only one for which Father Martin had no recording to rely on, and no witnesses, other than the priest to question. This sixth exorcism took place in China, and involved a Thomas Wu, who was possessed and who died in a fire before Father Michael Strong could complete the exorcism. Father Michael’s health was severely affected by the exorcism.

These brief summaries sound quite improbable, but the book is over 450 pages long, and if it has a fault it is that there is too much detail about what the various participants were feeling or thinking at critical moments. The five cases are laid out in excruciating detail. One can deny their accuracy, but this becomes a matter of personal choice and denial. For my part, they make sense, as they align with my Christian faith.

The book caused a sensation when it was first published in 1976.

Why I Love Dirty Children’s Books

There is an article with this title by Daniel Donahoo on the Wired website. It’s dated 14 February 2013, but it is quite timely.

Daniel Donahoo is the Director of Project Synthesis, an ideas consultancy whose work is driven by play, technology and narrative.

Daniel is the author of children, family, media and technology “Idolising Children” and co-author of “Adproofing Your Kids”. He has supported a number of services across Australia with the planning and implementation of technology in play-based environments,  he has advised on national projects on incorporating play-based approaches into digital learning resources and reviews and writes about technology for Wired, Huffington Post and New Media Consortium.

He says: “BOOKS ARE ARTIFACTS. We hold them close, we sort them on shelves, we lend them out and wonder when they will return. In these digital times the value of the book as a treasured item is only increasing. Books have a scent, a feel and a connection that some place well above the stories they may read on their Kindle.

However, I’m teaching my kids that books are far more important than to be given the status of artifact. My favorite books are dirty children’s books.

While illustrated children’s book have long history of being even more special artifacts than most others, a children’s book in beautiful condition, with clean crisp pages in near-mint condition is a sad and troubling thing. Children’s books should belong to and be treasured by children, and if that is the case they should look like they have been handled and read and looked at by children.

Our house is currently littered with books. They can be found behind the cushions on the sofa, on the floor in the kitchen, under the washing machine and occasionally on bookshelves. Most of these belong to my 20-month-old son, and he loves to flick through the pages of any book and identify everything with wheels as a “brum.”

We read to him. His older brothers read to him. And he “reads” himself. Consequently, all of his books are dirty children’s books. They are frayed at the edges, some pages are ripped, others have splashes of breakfast cereal or smudges from butter and toast. These books have gorgeous pictures and wonderful stories, but what good would they be if we kept them all well ordered and alphabetized on a shelf, only to bring them out on the occasion of bedtime for a story before sleep?

Books are something we should treasure and care for. We should fold over the edges to keep our place, we should let them live in the bottom of our bags or in the dirt while we are on camping trips. Our books should reflect the lives we lead — messy and uncertain, but well lived and loved.

We should teach our children to love books in this way, and deal with the little bit of damage that comes with it. Books are not made of glass. You can dry pages with a hairdryer, and stick ripped pages back together. You can construct a new spine from cardboard and even write a new ending on some new paper and slot that in at the end if those pages have been lost.

I love dirty children’s books. Covered in dust and grime and the things you find on children’s fingers. I love the stories and the pictures the fact that every fingerprint is a page turned, a new word learned, a narrative pursued.

Keeping reading with your children. Always.”

Is Listening to Audio Books Really Reading?

Easy Listening posted this question on the Wired website:

I listen to a lot of books on audio. It works for me. But certain more literary friends of mine say it doesn’t quite count as reading. Part of me wants to read more, but I find it much easier to listen. What do you think? Should I care?”

Megan O’Gieblyn posted this scholarly answer:

“I wouldn’t put too much stock in what your “literary” friends say; they sound like bores. When it comes down to it, people who think about reading in terms of what “counts”—those who piously log their daily reading metrics and tally up the titles they’ve consumed on Goodreads—don’t seem to actually enjoy books all that much. Their moralistic gloom is evident in the extent to which reading has come to resemble exercise, with readers tracking their word-count metrics, trying to improve their speed, and joining clubs to keep them accountable.

“While some disciples of this culture are quick to dismiss audiobooks as a shortcut, they cannot seem to agree on why, exactly, listening is an inferior form of engagement. Some cite studies that have shown people who listen to books retain less than those who read them, which is bound up with how tempting it is to do other things while listening. (As easy as it is to multitask with audiobooks, the form does make it harder to return, after a spell of distraction, to the passage where your mind started to wander.) Others insist that audiobooks eliminate the reader’s responsibility to interpret things like irony, tone, and inflection, given that the person recording does the work of conveying emotion. According to this rather tenuous logic, listening to audiobooks is inferior precisely because it is easier—because it lacks the element of suffering that is incontrovertible evidence of accomplishment, the same way soreness is proof of a real workout.

“The larger problem, however, is in viewing books as a means to some other end. Many people who aspire to read more are motivated by the promise that doing so will prevent cognitive decline, improve brain connectivity, or increase emotional intelligence. Even the obsession with retention assumes that the purpose of reading is to absorb knowledge or nuggets of trivia that one can use to demonstrate cultural literacy or being “well read.” What all of this obscures is the possibility that books might be a source of intrinsic pleasure, an end in themselves. I’d be willing to bet, Easy Listening, that your earliest experiences with the joy of literature were aural. Most of us were read to by adults before we learned to read ourselves, and listening to audiobooks recalls the distinctive delight of being told a story: the rhythms of the prose made incarnate in a human voice; the dialog animated through the performance of a skillful reader; the ease with which our eyes, liberated from the page, are free to roam around the bedroom (or the aerobics room, or the landscape beyond the car windshield) so as to better imagine the actions of the narrative playing out.

“Oral storytelling predates writing by millennia, and many of the oldest stories in our literary canon existed for centuries as bardic tales before they were put down in print. The Homeric epics likely originated with bards who told them around fires and improvised their central plot points, which were passed down and adapted from one generation to the next. Evolutionary biologists have all sorts of conjectures about the utilitarian function of these rituals—storytelling may have emerged to deepen community bonds or model unfamiliar situations in ways that might have increased chances of survival—but I doubt that members of these cultures were consciously thinking, as so many readers are today, about how narrative exposure might boost their short-term memory or sharpen their capacity for empathy. Rather, they listened to stories because they were, quite simply, transfixed by their power.

“These early stories were largely composed in verse, at a time when poetry, music, and storytelling were often so intertwined as to be indistinguishable. And I suspect that audiobook fans are at least partly drawn to listening because it’s easier to discern the melodic qualities of prose, which often get lost when we quickly scan a page of text without actually hearing the words in our heads. There is some evidence that listening, as opposed to reading, engages the right hemisphere of the brain, which is more closely associated with music, poetry, and spirituality. This might explain why some religious texts are designed to be read aloud. The scholar Karen Armstrong recently pointed out that the term qur’ān means “recitation” and that the scripture’s many repetitions and variations take on their full effect only when they are voiced by a gifted reciter who can, as she put it, “help people to slow down their mental processes and enter a different mode of consciousness.”

“If you’re like most people I know, you probably find it difficult to recall the last time a book—regardless of how you consumed it—succeeded in altering your consciousness. Even your desire to “read more” contains a whiff of compulsion, suggesting that many books you’ve encountered have failed to live up to their transcendent potential. Anxieties about post-literacy tend to focus obsessively on the question of medium, and audiobooks are often hailed as one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, alongside social media, visual entertainment, and the decline in attention spans. But it seems to me that there exists a more obvious explanation for why reading often feels so dull: Most books are very bad. The vast majority of them are uninspired, unconvincing, and poorly written. This has always been the case (surely there were some flops even among those bardic epics of yore), though it’s a truth that grows more elusive when we are led to believe that reading is not supposed to be enjoyable. When a culture falls prey to an obsession with “reading challenges” and daily word count goals, it is all too easy to become inured to the shoddiness of the texts we’ve chosen and more difficult to object to the offensive quality of many of the books on offer.

“My advice, Easy, is to be less discriminating about the medium and more choosy about the books you pick up. If you find that your mind is wandering or that you’re not able to fully enter into the reality of the narrative, consider that this might be a problem with the content, not the mechanism through which you are experiencing it. Audiobooks have some distinct advantages when it comes to this kind of discernment. It’s easier to identify a tin-eared writer when the book is read aloud. And the liberation from the physical discomforts of reading—neck pain, eye strain—makes it harder to blame one’s growing annoyance with a text on environmental factors, an excuse that leads so many readers to stick with bad books longer than they should. Most of all, though, I would urge you to trust your instincts—to “listen,” as it were, to the critic within who instinctively knows what is worth your time and who will rarely lead you astray.”

Book Banners are Banned

The Guardian has an article by Maya Yang dated 9 June 2024 on its website which suggests that the tide is turning against book banners in the US. The federal cavalry has arrived in Texas.

“After a case spurred by complaints on books containing the words “butt” and “fart” as well as touching on the topics of racism and LGBTQ+ identity, an appellate court has ruled that Texas cannot ban books from libraries simply because officials “dislike the idea contained in those books”.

The fifth US circuit court of appeals issued its decision on Thursday in a 76-page majority opinion, which was written by Judge Jacques Wiener Jr and opened with a quote from American poet Walt Whitman: “The dirtiest book in all the world is the expurgated book.”

In its decision, the appellate court declared that “government actors may not remove books from a public library with the intent to deprive patrons of access to ideas with which they disagree”.

It added: “This court has declared that officials may not ‘remove books from school library shelves simply because they dislike the idea contained in those books and seek by their removal to prescribe what shall be orthodox in politics, nationalism, religion or other matters of opinion’.”

The appellate court’s latest decision follows a federal lawsuit filed in 2022 by seven Llano county residents against county and library officials for restricting and removing books from its public circulation.

The residents argued that the defendants violated their constitutional right to “access information and ideas” by removing 17 books based on their content and messages.

Those books include seven “butt and fart” books with titles including I Broke My Butt! and Larry the Farting Leprechaun, four young adult books on sexuality, gender identity and dysphoria – including Being Jazz: My Life as a (Transgender) Teen – and two books on the history of racism in the US, among them Caste and They Called Themselves the KKK.

Other books targeted by the ban were In the Night Kitchen, which contains cartoons of a naked child, as well as It’s Perfectly Normal: Changing Bodies, Growing Up, Sex and Sexual Health, according to court documents.

The books were removed after parents complained, with library officials referring to the books as “pornographic filth”.

In its majority decision, the overwhelmingly conservative appellate court ordered eight of the 17 books to be returned, including Being Jazz: My Life as a (Transgender) Teen, Caste and They Called Themselves the KKK.

Wiener wrote how a dissenting opinion from the Donald Trump appointee Kyle Duncan “accuses us of becoming the ‘Library Police’, citing a story by author Stephen King”.

“But King, a well-known free speech activist, would surely be horrified to see how his words are being twisted in service of censorship,” wrote Wiener, who was appointed during George HW Bush’s presidency.

“Per King: ‘As a nation, we’ve been through too many fights to preserve our rights of free thought to let them go just because some prude with a highlighter doesn’t approve of them.’ Defendants and their highlighters are the true library police.”

Wiener also said that “libraries must continuously review their collection to ensure that it is up to date” and engage in “removing outdated or duplicated materials … according to objective, neutral criteria”.

In a report released last October, the American Library Association found that Texas made the most attempts in the US to ban or restrict books in 2022. In total, the state made 93 attempts to restrict access to more than 2,300 books.

A wave of book banning has also emerged in Florida as part of the culture wars of the Republican governor, Ron DeSantis, on “wokeism”, a term meant to insult liberal values.

In January, a Florida school district removed dictionaries, encyclopedias and other books because the texts included descriptions of “sexual conduct”.

Meanwhile, in 2022, a Mississippi school district upheld the firing of an assistant principal after he read a humorous children’s book, I Need a New Butt, to his students.”

I don’t doubt that the litigation will continue but the 5th Circuit Court (one step below the Supreme Court) and a conservative court, has set a precedent which will be forced on other recalcitrant states.

Review: Glimpses of the Devil

This is a book that I had been seeking for several years. I thought the title was “Hostage to the Devil” and I thought the author was Scott Peck. Looking on Amazon.co.uk, I wasn’t having any luck, but on Amazon.it, I had success on both searches. Under the author M. Scott Peck, M.D., I found Glimpses of the Devil, which is subtitled ‘A Psychiatrist’s Personal Accounts of Possession, Exorcism and Redemption’. I also found Hostage to the Devil whose author is Malachi Martin. Perhaps my search of the UK website was ineffective, or perhaps Italy being a Catholic country has a keener interest in exorcism. In any event, I bought both books, and I have finished reading Glimpses of the Devil.

The back cover of the book has this biography: “M. Scott Peck’s publishing history reflects his own evolution as a serious and widely acclaimed writer, thinker, psychiatrist, and spiritual guide. Since his groundbreaking bestseller, The Road Less Traveled, was first published in 1978, his insatiable intellectual curiosity has taken him in various new directions with virtually each new book: the subject of healing human evil in People of the Lie (1982), where he first briefly discussed exorcism and possession; the creative experience of community in The Different Drum (1987); the role of civility in personal relationships and society in A World Waiting to Be Born (1993); an examination of the complexities of life and the paradoxical nature of belief in Further Along the Road Less Traveled (1993); and an exploration of the medical, ethical, and spiritual issues of euthanasia in Denial of the Soul (1999); as well as a novel, a children’s book, and other works. A graduate of both Harvard University and Case Western Reserve, Dr. Peck served in the Army Medical Corps before maintaining a private practice in psychiatry.” Glimpses of the Devil was published in 2005. Dr Peck was born in 1936 and died in 2005.

M. Scott Peck

Glimpses of the Devil recounts two exorcisms actually performed by Dr Peck along with a team of religious leaders and volunteers. Both exorcisms were video recorded, and in writing the book, Dr Peck called on the recollections of the members of his team, the possessed person and members of her family.

Until Dr. Peck first met the young woman called Jersey, he did not believe in the devil. In fact, as a mature, highly experienced psychiatrist, he expected that this case would resolve his ongoing effort to prove to himself, as scientifically as possible, that there were absolutely no grounds for such beliefs.  Twenty-seven-year-old Jersey was of average intelligence; a caring and devoted wife and mother to her husband and two young daughters, she had no history of mental illness.Yet what he discovered could not be explained away simply as madness or by any standard clinical diagnosis. Through a series of unanticipated events, Dr. Peck found himself thrust into the role of exorcist, and his desire to treat and help Jersey led him down a path of blurred boundaries between science and religion. Once there, he came face-to-face with deeply entrenched evil.

Dr Peck’s second exorcism was Beccah, in her mid-forties and with a superior intellect, who had suffered from profound depression throughout her life, choosing to remain in an abusive relationship with her husband, one dominated by distrust and greed. This exorcism, like Jersey’s took four days, but this one was not successful in that Beccah was repossessed. Dr Peck attributed her repossession to the length of her possession, which was thought to be about 40 years. Beccah went back to her fraudulent financial business and died of osteomyelitis or morphine addiction fifteen or twenty years later by which time, Dr Peck was no longer in touch with her.

Dr Peck breaks an exorcism down into stages of Presence, Pretense, Break Point, Voice, Clash and Expulsion, the same stages as mentioned by Malachi Martin on Hostage to the Devil. In Presence, the team becomes aware of a demonic presence in the room. The temperature seems to drop, there is no other outward sign, but everyone can feel it. In Pretence, the demon pretends to be the possessed person, using his/her voice to speak. At Break Point, the Pretense ends and the demon uses the possessed’s vocal chords to speak in its own Voice. Clash, as the word suggests, marks the crucial disagreement with the demon and can include the exorcist, the possessed and members of the team. Expulsion marks the exit of the demon, which happens because the possessed turns against the demon, because of demands made by the exorcist, or (the Catholic church believes) by the intervention of Jesus.

Glimpses of the Devil is not a work of fiction. It is rather scientific work by a nationally recognised doctor. Nor is it one man’s testimony. Videotapes of both exorcisms exist and Dr Peck identifies all of the people involved in each process, though for obvious reasons, they are anonymised. One feels that one is actually present at each exorcism, observing all of the details worth observing. The author does not speculate or draw unproven conclusions. His principle conclusions are that the devil is a real being who is a huge threat to individual human beings, and the devil is afraid of Jesus.

It is a very difficult book to put down!

Best Seller List

There is an article on the Literature News website, 10 March 2024, written by ‘Manish’ which confirms my long-held suspicions about the New York Times Best Seller List.

“When bestseller book lists are curated based on editorial whims rather than objective sales figures, the transparency and reliability of such rankings are compromised, leading to challenges for readers seeking genuine insights into popular literary tastes. In an ideal scenario, bestseller lists serve as valuable tools for readers to discover widely acclaimed books and gauge the preferences of their peers. However, when these lists are influenced by subjective judgments rather than concrete sales data, the distinction between truly popular books and those merely promoted or favoured by a select group of editors becomes blurred.

“This phenomenon undermines the credibility of bestseller lists and hampers readers’ ability to make informed decisions about their reading choices. Books that receive prominent placement on these lists due to editorial biases may garner unwarranted attention and overshadow lesser-known titles that may be more deserving of recognition based on their actual sales and reader reception. As a result, readers may miss out on discovering hidden gems that resonate with their interests and preferences.

“Now, let’s reveal the moot point of this article. In recent years, the New York Times Bestsellers List has come under scrutiny for its alleged editorial bias and lack of transparency. The controversy has sparked a heated debate within the publishing industry, with some authors and publishers questioning the list’s credibility and relevance. At the heart of the controversy is the claim that the New York Times Bestsellers List is not a true reflection of book sales but rather an editorial product subject to the editors’ preferences and biases. Critics argue that the list does not accurately represent the actual sales figures of their books, suggesting that the list is not a reliable indicator of a book’s popularity or success.

“In response to these claims, the New York Times maintains that the list is an editorial product and that they have the right to make decisions about which books to include and which to exclude. They argue that the list is not solely based on sales numbers but also takes into account other factors, such as the quality of the writing and the book’s overall impact.

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that the New York Times has the audacity to call their list a “Bestseller List” when it’s clearly nothing more than a biased, subjective, and editorial-driven selection of books. It’s a slap in the face to authors and readers alike, who expect a bestseller list to be based on actual sales numbers and merit, not the whims of a few editors. The fact that the NYT openly admits to considering their list an “editorial product” and claims the right to include or exclude books based on factors like “quality of writing” and “overall impact” is a complete joke. Who are they to decide what constitutes quality or impact? It’s nothing more than an elitist, self-serving attempt to control the narrative and push their own agenda. If the New York Times wants to maintain any credibility, it should stop masquerading its list as a “Bestseller List” and rename it something more accurate, like “NYT Editorial Subjective Choices.” It’s time for them to own up to their biased, subjective, and editorial-driven selection process and stop misleading readers with their so-called “Bestseller List.”

“Evidently, the controversy has led to calls for greater transparency in the selection process for the New York Times Bestsellers List. Some authors and publishers have demanded that the New York Times provide more information about the criteria used to select books for the list and the data sources used to compile it.

“The debate has also highlighted the role of other bestseller lists, such as those published by Amazon and other retailers. These lists are based on actual sales data and are seen by some as more objective and reliable indicators of a book’s popularity.

“In conclusion, the controversy surrounding the New York Times Bestsellers List is an ongoing debate that raises important questions about the role of editorial judgment in the selection of books for bestseller lists and the need for transparency in the selection process. As the debate continues, whether the New York Times will respond to the criticisms and change how it compiles its Bestsellers List remains to be seen.”

Review: The Hobbit

I had never read any J R R Tolkien, because I had the impression it is trendy, other worldly. But I decided that I had to give him a try when he made the One Hundred Best Writers’ list, and I bought a copy of The Hobbit, his first novel. I’m glad I did.

J R R Tolkien

The Tolkien Society says,”John Ronald Reuel Tolkien (1892–1973) was a major scholar of the English language, specialising in Old and Middle English. Twice Professor of Anglo-Saxon (Old English) at the University of Oxford, he also wrote a number of stories, including most famously The Hobbit (1937) and The Lord of the Rings (1954–1955), which are set in a pre-historic era in an invented version of our world which he called by the Middle English name of Middle-earth. This was peopled by Men (and women), Elves, Dwarves, Trolls, Orcs (or Goblins) and of course Hobbits. He has regularly been condemned by the Eng. Lit. establishment, with honourable exceptions, but loved by literally millions of readers worldwide”.

The Hobbit was written to entertain his children. Incidentally, Tolkien defined ‘hobbit’ as ‘little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves…. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along…. are inclined to be fat and have good-natured faces, and deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner).’ They also live in comfortable accommodation underground.

The Hobbit begins with Mr Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit, being called upon unexpectedly in his home by Gandalf, the magician, who invites him to go on a profitable adventure. Baggins declines, but the next day he finds himself serving tea to Gandalf and thirteen dwarves, who have a plan to kill a distant evil dragon and take his immense riches which had been stolen from the king of the dwarves and others. Gandalf identifies Baggins as the burglar of the group. They set off across dense forests, rivers and mountains, experiencing many exciting events, including attacks by wolves, giant spiders, hostile elves, goblins. During these adventures, Bilbo finds a magic ring which makes him invisible when he wears it. The ring is very useful as he sneaks into the dragon’s den and spots its fatal vulnerability. The dragon is killed by a human archer as it flies over a village setting fire to the thatched roofs with its flaming breath. A great war is fought over the dragon’s immense wealth between the goblins and wolves on one side and the dwarves, men, elves and eagles on the other. The latter prevail. Bilbo, having been given a chest of gold and another of silver for his services returns to his home in the company of Gandalf.

This is a thoroughly engaging and remarkable story. It is set a long time ago in an environment we would recognise: nothing strange about rivers, mountains, forest and lakes. We know about magicians, goblins, elves and dragons. and we know about dwarves, wolves, eagles and spiders, but perhaps not really giant spiders. The only new character is the hobbit, but his endearing character soon makes him our hero. The story is not fantasy and does not struggle with credibility. The principal characters, good and evil, each has his own quirky identity which builds his stature. The mishaps that befall the dwarves and hobbit are real, credible emergencies, and each is unique. The level of tension is constantly high. Even the narrator (Tolkien) does not remain anonymous. He comments, occasionally on the characters and their situations.

The Hobbit is a masterful piece of story telling!

Dealing with Adversity

On the Novelry website, Dr Stephany Carty has a post dated October 22, 2023 in which she, a psychologist and a novelist, talks about how to write characters’ responses to adversity that are interesting, credible and define the character by showing, rather than telling.

Dr Stephanie Carty is a published writer, as well as a Consultant Clinical Psychologist and NHS Head of Psychology in the UK. Her fiction has been shortlisted for many competitions, and her writers’ craft book, Inside Fictional Minds: Tips from Psychology for Creating Characters, has been an invaluable source of inspiration and education.

Dr Stephany Carty

Dr Carty says, “At some point in all of our novels, our characters – be they protagonists, villains, or even the person holding up the queue in the coffee shop – are going to have to deal with some sort of adversity. Adversity is what propels our characters to change, as they stand in the face of their demons, or are given the wrong Starbucks order.

And how our characters react to that adversity can tell our readers a whole lot about who they are as people. In fact, it’s a great tool for showing (and not telling) your reader, what your characters are truly like.

But how do you decide on their reaction? Where will it come from? And how can you be sure it’s psychologically sound?

Survival mode: characters dealing with adversity

When we hurl difficult situations at our characters, they react in ways that match their history. Some will have picked up methods that focus on how to survive whereas others are able to thrive.

You can either work backwards from how you need your character to react, then figure out a backstory that matches; or you can take what you know about them already and discover their reaction by digging deeper into their survival mechanisms.

Decide on their worldview

In their early years and beyond, what did your character learn about how safe other people are?

If they were mistreated, bullied, surrounded by anger or fear, then they learned from a young age that the world is a dangerous place and that other people are potentially harmful.

This leads them to developing hypervigilance for danger and learning which responses help them to survive: fight back, withdraw, be charming, feign illness, make allies with the aggressor, blame someone else, and so on.

These early strategies reoccur in times that are (or are perceived to be) threatening. Their focus under real or anticipated danger is to go into survival mode.

Now consider a different trajectory for your character: they were cherished and nurtured in childhood. They were allowed to take steps to independence safe in the knowledge there would be back-up if needed. They learned that the world is a relatively safe place, and that other people help you when things get tough.

So their response to a challenge as an adult is to trust in their capacity to cope, to seek help and to help others, to believe that there is a way forward which facilitates problem-solving. They have a potential to thrive in difficult circumstances.

As you can see, the worldview informs what behaviour occurs. These can differ widely according to what has been learned to be effective.

Distinguish the root cause

What looks like the same behaviour on the surface could be either a sign of thriving or a sign of surviving.

Let’s take the example of a character who is cheerful at the harshest time, focusing their efforts on helping others.

This could be an example of thriving in someone who genuinely believes in themselves and that the future will be positive. However, it could also be a mask that has been learned as a survival strategy – that to act happy instead of scared and put other people first keeps them safe from the anger of others.

Your task is to show the reader the difference between the two by writing through the eyes of the character.

Choose some subtle signs of survival

Your reader can absorb clues about your character all the way through your novel without even realising. What little details could you choose to pay attention to that give more information than would appear at first glance?

Ideas for how you can ‘show’ a character’s survival pattern:

  • Environment – if your character tends to be in survival mode, then in scenes from their point of view, use what seems like background description of a room or street to show the reader what is foremost in the character’s attention. For example, you could mention that the exit is to their left (without needing to state this is someone who automatically checks for an escape route due to being in high threat mode), or that the second streetlight is flickering as if it could switch off any moment (they are hypervigilant to threat outdoors as well as inside).
  • Self-monitoring – show the focus that a character in survival mode may have on their own body. For example, someone who has learned to act passive in order to stay safe might sit on their hands or grip a chair to hide their anger; whilst a character who has been conditioned to act tough, and never show weakness to avoid being harmed, may be very aware if they are sweating or flushed.
  • Appearance – has your character learned to keep themselves looking drab and folded over to avoid unwanted attention, or are they immaculately turned out in popular brand name clothes as a survival strategy of fitting in to avoid bullying? You don’t need to explain this or make it stand out too much, you can simply name drop a label or the particular shade of nail polish in mint condition for example.

Differentiate

It’s really important to remember that survival mode has developed in a certain set of circumstances. This means that survival responses differ for each character.

Let’s say you have a section of the novel where your three characters are reacting to a threatening note that has been delivered to their flat.

Milly is fearful of coming to harm, just like her mum who was attacked in her twenties. This triggers her to panic and want to leave the area.

Jamie is fearful of being seen to be scared. He was bullied at school and learned to mask his fear to avoid being beaten up – or worse. He makes jokes about the letter but inside is scared that he’ll not be able to protect his friends.

Daniella’s survival strategy means she doesn’t notice her fear and goes straight into anger. She learned in her teens that the only way to stop her dad from hurting her mum was to fight back. She grabs a knife and sits by the door, ready for action.

Outside of this clear threat, you could find that Milly often stays home and does a lot of her social life online, Jamie is focused on how he looks in public and lifts weights at the gym for hours on end, whereas Daniella goads people to test them out and prove she’s the most capable.

You want the small scenes to add up to the same picture as the behaviour found towards the main threat.

You can plan this out for your characters by answering the following statements for each:

  • My survival mode is triggered by… (type of threat)
  • I keep myself safe by… (action)
  • I get my needs met by… (action)

A final point to remember is that your characters don’t have to fit neatly into one box or another. They may go into survival mode in some contexts and thrive in others, or you can have an arc that moves them out of threat mode across time.”