As readers of this blog have probably figured out, I'm not a very "with it" guy. I am, in fact, almost entirely without it. Whatever "it" is. I'm not even cool enough to know.
What I mean to say is I'm not hip to the jive. I'm behind the curve, under the radar and out of the loop.
Which explains why it would take me two weeks to respond to an interesting thread on someone's else's site. Up to the minute I am not. I'm not even up to the decade.
So I probably shouldn't waste even more time by prolonging this lead-in, should I? Alright. Fine. Let's cut to the chase. Or, more appropriately, link to the debate.
A while back, reviewer/nice guy/goatee wearer/father/hyphenate David J. Montgomery posted an entry on his blog about the (in his opinion) generally poor quality of crime fiction published so far this year. On this, I will have to take David's word for it. Like I said: not with it. (Though I will point out that a certain historical mystery published in early '08 is, of course, a classic that will live forever in the hearts of book lovers everywhere.)
Still, with it or not, I do feel qualified (or at least opinionated enough) to weigh in on one comment David made. In the midst of a discussion of his "2008 sucks" premise on Sarah Weinman's blog, David said this: "...shouldn't every book try to be a great book? Does anyone really set out to just be okay?"
My answer to these questions would be, in brief, "Not necessarily" and "You betcha!" Unfortunately, brief doesn't really cut it. I'm going to have to explain myself, dammit. Pardon me while I brew up a pot of coffee.
O.K. I'm back, thoroughly caffeinated. Let's do this thing.
First, there's the question of greatness. Well...what the heck is it? What makes a book "great"? Is it emotional heft? Intellectual rigor? Piercing insight? Thrills'n'chills? Belly laughs? Originality? Heaps of hot sex? Delicious recipes for the family on the go?
The answer, of course, is all of the above. Or none of the above. Or some, in combination.
That's a lot of contradictory answers, of course...and they're all right! My point being: It depends on the book. Not every book is War and Peace, nor should every book be. There are big stories and there are small stories. Epic and intimate. Loud and quiet. In a perfect world, each of these different stories would be well told -- flawless crystallizations of the author's intent. But even then, they wouldn't all be knock-your-socks-off WOW!s.
Gregory Mcdonald's Fletch books neither left me weeping nor set my pulse to pounding, but they're really good and I'm glad I read them. Ditto Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe books. Ditto A Confederacy of Dunces, for that matter. Ditto the works of Jean Shepherd and James Thurber and Garrison Keillor.
Here's another way to look at it. The Godfather is Great. But Election is great. Lawrence of Arabia is Great. But Heathers is great. The Bridge on the River Kwai -- Great. Bottle Rocket -- great. Amadeus -- Great. The Big Lebowski -- great. And John Ford made a lot of Great movies, but if you'd told him they were Great -- as in Great Art -- he would've spat in your eye.
Not every film can or should aspire to Greatness of the Oscar- (or even box office-) approved variety. Not all of them should be trying to knock your socks off. Another example: Tender Mercies. A simple story played out on a small scale with almost no suspense or tension or even drama, really. My socks stayed on. But it's a good movie.
There should be room for films -- and books -- like that.
Which isn't to say (to finally get to David's second question, the one about whether authors ever "set out to just be okay") that I'm making some sort of impassioned stand for low standards here. There are writers who set their own bar low in the sense that quality storytelling means less to them than meeting a deadline, collecting a check and pleasing a particular (perhaps easily pleased) constituency. I'm betting some of these folks are even writing books they wouldn't enjoy reading themselves -- they're just going where the money is. Hence my "You betcha!" about 500 paragraphs back.
Speaking personally, I want all my books to be great, and I've worked hard (and I like to think I've succeeded) at making each better than the one that preceded it. But if I worried too much about Greatness or Sock-Blowingness or whatever, I think it would get in the way.
Best to focus on the job at hand -- telling a good story with as much clarity, creativity and humanity as I can muster -- and let others apply the labels when it's done.
Steve Hockensmith
July 24, 2008
