Last week I read The Book Of Elsewhere, the collaboration between China Mieville and Keanu Reeves. I knew nothing about this book when I got it. I’ve read a couple of Mieville’s books, and I’ve enjoyed them, but apart from that, I came into The Book Of Elsewhere with no preconceptions.
I’m still not sure what I think of the ending, but I was definitely engrossed in the story after the first hundred pages.
Those first hundred pages, though, were tough. I wasn’t sure what was happening. Maybe this was intentional, or perhaps I simply wasn’t reading with enough focus, but I was confused. I had to read slowly. After browsing reviews, it looks like quite a few reviewers had similar reactions and didn’t finish the book.
I persevered, in part because I don’t like giving up on any book, but also because I trusted Mieville. The previous books of his I’ve read were strange, and the writing leaned towards a literary style. He’s not easy-reading. But he’s good. He knows what he’s doing. I chose to believe that he’d pull the story together, that all this struggle would pay off. And that trust was paid off.
This got me thinking. With any book, the reader has to trust that the writer knows what they’re doing—that those fragments at the start will come together at the end, that the seemingly random references will be important as the story develops. But there’s also trust in the other direction. A writer has to trust the reader.
A comment I received on my earlier books was that I explained too much (that was the gist of the comment, at least). And it’s a valid complaint. I wanted readers to experience the story through the characters, so I naturally wanted readers to know how the characters were reacting emotionally. I felt I needed to let the reader into the characters’ inner monologues.
But I was over-explaining. A lot of the time, even when I showed the character’s reaction, I’d also tell the reader how they felt.
Telling, not showing. I was breaking that fundamental ‘rule’. Yes, there are times when it’s more efficient to tell the reader what’s happening, but usually (and especially in important scenes) it’s better to show. It’s better to let the reader experience the scene through the actions and words of the characters.
It’s the difference between telling the reader that a character is angry and showing that character becoming withdrawn, or having them snap back when asked a question. It comes back to Chekov’s advice—‘Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass’.
I can understand why I over-explained, and why I told the reader so much. It was down to trust. For one thing, I didn’t have enough experience to trust myself. But also, in not wanting the reader to miss anything, I didn’t trust them to pick up on subtle clues—like a character growing uncharacteristically quiet, or seeing light glinting on broken glass.
Readers are smart. Readers—and I’m talking about habitual readers here, those who always have a book on the go—have experience of story. They’ve devoured hundreds and thousands of character portrayals, scenes of emotional dialogue, well-crafted descriptions and so on. Reading is active (more active than watching visual media), so readers engage more of their intellect when reading.
And nobody likes to be beaten over the head. Nobody likes to be treated like an idiot. Dumb things down too much, and readers turn away.
But what if I’m too subtle? What if I don’t give the reader enough?
It’s a balancing act, and there are no perfect solutions. A big reason for this is that every reader is different. Some will pick up on those small clues, see them as obvious. Others will miss them entirely. But even readers who miss the clues consciously can pick up on them subconsciously.
I’m sure this has happened to you—you’re reading a book, and it should be good. It has everything you normally enjoy in a decent story, but something’s missing. It’s leaving you cold. You can’t quite put your finger on what’s wrong.
But your subconscious knows. It’s picked up on something, maybe in the writing, maybe in the story, possibly in the characters. It’s used all that experience, all those other books you’ve read, and it’s detected a problem in this one.
Then there are those ‘surprising but inevitable’ moments. A character does something unexpected, yet it feels right. Better than that—it’s good. Or the story develops in a way you could never have imagined, and even though you want to dismiss it as ridiculous, something about it makes total sense.
This is where those subtle clues come in. The writer has sprinkled them earlier in the story, passing moments that the reader hasn’t consciously noticed—but the subconscious has. And, when the twist comes, the reader can take a moment to reflect, and those clues become clearer.
A classic example of this is The Sixth Sense. Yes, some people saw the end coming, but for many the final revelation was a shock—but one that made sense when considering all those earlier scenes—the anniversary dinner where his wife doesn’t seem to register him being there, the scene where he’s sitting silently with someone else, no words spoken, no eye contact made.
If those clues had been too blatant, the shock of the revelation wouldn’t have been so effective.
So, in writing these new books, I need to be subtle. I need to trust the reader to pick up on those little character moments, those phrases dropped into the text, those references that on the surface appear to be nothing but world-building.
And getting this right won’t be easy. I won’t be able to succeed for every reader (because every reader is different). But I can try. Not in first-drafting, but in editing. Being aware of the issue is half the battle. Once I have the story working I will go back through it all, looking for places I’ve told too much, seeking moments I can drop those subtle hints.
Readers are smart. As a writer, it’s important that I remember this and trust them.
This post is the latest in a series I’m running on Substack, chronicling my work on this new project. If you’d like to read these posts as they appear, please consider subscribing for free.
TW Iain 