The wrong kind of details: the components of wonder (aka lmp's rant)

[littlemanpoet]

Tolkien, in On Faerie Stories, said that a sense of wonder is essential to a good fairytale.

My little addition to that is: The wrong kinds of details in fantasy books kill the wonder. There. I've said it as clearly as I know how.

Tolkien did it right. C.S. Lewis did it right (though he may have done other things less well). George MacDonald did it right. Guy Gavriel Kay got it right in the Fionavar Tapestry series. Stephen R. Lawhead got it right in his Albion and Arthur series. Sheri S. Tepper got it right in Beauty. Robert E. Howard did it right. Pullman got it right in His Dark Materials. I'd even go so far as to say J.K. Rowling did it right in her Harry Potter series.

Dennis McKiernan messed up in Once Upon a Winter's Night. He includes details that killed the wonder for me, maybe for any reader. Aside from the fact that the plot structure is sadly mishandled, there are brothels in fairyland. Little fairies play at sex as if it's just a romping game. Eh. His dragon stops using the language of myth and starts talking like a human counsellor, a major failure of consistency and not the only one.

Katherine Kerr left something to be desired in the Deverry series. Granted, I've barely started but I know what bugs me: mere political intrigue. I can read any historical fiction (or real history) about an exiled bastard son who wants his father's throne, or the discovery that a king is the one who's infertile rather than his banished wife. And the magic leaves something to be desired. I'm left still desiring wonder, because I don't get my desire for it satisfied by Kerr's magic. Nevyn is an herbmaster and he has his dweomer. But he doesn't seem like a wizard to me, rather a mere herbmaster. The reader is allowed to just take the magic for granted. It's just a fact of life, nothing special. And her half-elves. They're not special either. Tolkien's Elrond Halfelven must choose his destiny, as must all his descendants (Arwen for example). There's something of nobility and destiny about that, which gives us the wonder. Kerr's half-elves, and a lot of other writers' half breeds, just seem to be products of their genetics and environment and little more. Where's the wonder in that? How is that different from every day life? Okay, maybe I'm too early in her book, but still.

The reason I started writing my own fantasy (I'm not saying it's great but I know what I want) is that I got sick and tired of the wonderless stuff being foisted on the hungry fantasy reading public.

As you can tell, this is akin to Kalessin's rant, and apologies to Kalessin for mimicking his clever title, but I want to do something different without demanding that you read that entire thread (which wouldn't be a bad idea if you're interested in this kind of thing).

I'm talking about high fantasy, not urban fantasy. The rules are different for urban fantasy because the setting is our world and the normal rules we're all used to are suspended in interesting ways such that the magic is the exception rather than the rule, and therein lies its wonder.

Back to high fantasy. The authors I (imho) gave high marks to above included details that did not spoil the wonder. They did include plenty of details, though. Just the right kind of details.

Here's the question: What specific details are the right kind? What are the wrong kind of details? How much does it depend on the context of the story? How do you think the authors I've named so far handled this? What other authors are there to bring into the discussion?

As I said above, Beauty works despite the fact that Tepper mixes history and magic and science fiction in one boiling kettle of a story. There are all kinds of details that other writers don't get away with, but she does because she handles them well. McKiernan seems to be working with a 17th or 18th century French milieu, which isn't bad in itself but somehow there's enough of the kind of wonder-killing details in that milieu that ruins his story. Pullman, on the other hand, uses a 19th century Victorian English milieu and carries it off brilliantly. Why did one work and not the other? The ogre's in the details. What details? I eagerly await your responses.

Paul the brooding bard, aka littlemanpoet.

[ August 03, 2002: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[ August 07, 2002: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[burrahobbit]

What specific details are the right kind? What are the wrong kind of details? How much does it depend on the context of the story?

I've mostly not read what you've listed, but I will say that I think that everything always depends on context.

Feel free to ignore this post.

[Kuruharan]

Greetings, lmp. I haven't had a chance to converse with you in a long time.

Something that I have noticed in reading other fantasy besides Tolkien is that the authors are trying to create a world that has as much depth (culturally, and historically as well as plot) as Middle earth. This tends to cause the author to throw in a whole bunch of historical or cultural details that do little to advance the plot. I think that the arbitrary way that these details are presented has much to do with the ruining the wonder of a story.

An example:
"The 546th High Priest of Blahbdy Blah Blah slew the children of Grand Poobah Yadda XXXIV in pursuit of a long standing feud, three thousand years ago. Then to hide from the wrath of the aforementioned Grand Poobah, he kidnaps twenty buxom maidens and hides himself away and creates a secret order (of his suddenly numerous children) to perpetuate his legacy. This is the High and Mighty Order of the Yakkidy-Yak that now holds this semi-wonderful trinket that Our Hero just heard about in some exotic bazaar, and then never hears about again." You can only do that so many times before it gets old. Don't forget that during the course of this digression that we (the reader) were no doubt subjected to IN DEPTH descriptions of his "heroic" exploits in...er...creating that legacy with his kidnapped maidens. That kind of laying on irrelevant fact (dare I use the word?) just spoils the story. Especially when the author does this about five times in every chapter. This attempt to create false depth makes the story shallower.

[ August 04, 2002: Message edited by: Kuruharan ]

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Wonderful topic, littlemanpoet! This will be very enjoyable to read. I agree with Kuruharan that a lot of authors' attempts to add details are awkward, to say the least. Less is often more.

Offhand, a great example from LotR occurs to me: JRRT often adds just one adjective and creates an atmosphere with it. I hadn't noticed it consciously until my last rereading of the book. It's the mention of moon phases. When his characters look at the moon, it's the "waxing" or "waning" moon. That's all he says, no big description, but just that gives the passage a feeling of motion, of the passing of time with the moon phases. I do remember reading (biography?) that he payed attention to those and corrected if necessary. It happens in the interwoven passages too, when different characters are separated and looking up at the same moon.

Subtlety is the key - it has to seem incidental to be good, I think.

[Birdland]

Very good summation of the problem, Kuruharan.

I, too, have not read any of the books you refer too Imp, but I know the type, and it is why I pretty much avoid fantasy genre these days. I gave up long ago searching for the next Tolkien.

Tolkien was able to suggest the vast history of Middle-Earth in his writing, without overly explaining or expecting people to remember "dates and names". Suggestion, not exposition, is the key to any great storytelling.

The other problem you seemed to be referring to, Imp, is trying to attach modern sensibilities and outlooks to characters in High Fantasy, while still working in the bells and whistles of "magic", apparently in a mistaken attempt to draw in a wider audience. Most of the time I find this extremely annoying and "precious". The nobler sentiments expressed in good fantasy are, I think, exactly what adds to its appeal. Also, it rings false that people who live in a world of Magic, vs. Technology, could possibly have the same degree of cynicism and "whatever" attitude that people in today's society have. Peter S. Beagle succeeded in combining the two in "The Last Unicorn", but he did it with such a gentle humor and genuine affection for his characters that no other author has been able to match it. (Even Beagle seems not to be able to duplicate it.)

Lastly:

there are brothels in fairyland...

Now that's just silly. As if an Elf would ever had to pay for "it" in his life. [img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img]

[Melephelwen]

What specific details are the right kind? What are the wrong kind of details? How much does it depend on the context of the story? How do you think the authors I've named so far handled this? What other authors are there to bring into the discussion?

I don't really know... (And yes, Estelyn, I've read your rant, I'm going to say more about this [img]smilies/wink.gif[/img] )
I haven't read all of the mentioned authors, but you're right about JK Rowling, pullman, Guy Gavriel Kay and (of course) Tolkien.
I think Estelyn's right about that thing Tolkien does. (I've never noticed, but I'll try to in my next re-read) it is those small details, which makes the difference.

I haven't erally said what I meant to, but I can't put it better in English. Bear with me, please [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Subtlety is the key - it has to seem incidental to be good, I think.

Quite right. The man who repairs one's washing machine isn't likely to discuss the Medici popes or the Hundred Years' War, however interesting they might be to an eavesdropping visitor to the planet; how many antiques dealers would say "This bureau was made for Napoleon III", and then relate the entire history of Imperial France, from Revolution to Republic? If the interaction between two characters seems unlikely when placed into an equivalent real-life context then it probably won't work in Flobadobalopolis; Nutopia or the Mystic Kingdom of Kashmeichek either.
Still, I suppose that there'll always be bad writing in every genre; always said that the spread of literacy was a waste of trees.

[Niphredil Baggins]

Hmm.. this made me think of myself... I remember a scetch of a chapter in my story that lmp was dissappointed with, I remember how I looked closer at the story and saw what he mean when he said it has no sense of wonder... I had been describing an elven palace as if it were any common mansion in the mortal world, I wrote of lace curtains and washing utensils, as if they were the same ordinary sort you see in old paintings, and thus the images it raised in a possible reader's mind were mundane instead of magic... I altered the chapter later, now it speaks of 'curtains of lace glistening like cobwebs in morning dew'... but I don't know if I'm speaking about what lmp meant at all, now I'm actually defending details...

What, then, is the unwanted detail? I wonder if I am guilty of it by having manure in elven stables and an elf out of breath...

Or is it the details of how people look? I usually just give the body shape, the hair colour, sometimes the colour of skin and eyes, and let the reader imagine the rest... I'm usually bored to death by lenghtly descriptions of the beauty of some princess or other, and anyway I forget it after three pages. On the other hand, I sometimes describe clothes a lot; they have symbolic meanings to me, but may just bore the reader...

Now I'm getting paranoid and thinking lmp started this topic because of something stupid I have written. I know he didn't. Stupid hobbit, quit rambling, you have nothing worth saying.

High Fantasy is beyond me.

[The Silver-shod Muse]

I usually just give the body shape, the hair colour, sometimes the colour of skin and eyes, and let the reader imagine the rest... I'm usually bored to death by lenghtly descriptions of the beauty of some princess or other...

As you said Niphredil, I think the best policy here is to describe beauty as Tolkien did. He was a master at that sort of thing. Instead of putting his readers through a gauntlet of descriptions over every inch of Luthien's glorious body, he just gives some general description (i.e. gray eyes) and lets the reader envision his/her own kind of beauty as personified by Luthien.

lmp, in my Flaubert post in FWW I included one of Flaubert's quotes concerning the use of detail, and a very good one it is, too. Again I say, READ FLAUBERT for a fascinating study on how to gracefully handle detail and character perspectives.

[Kuruharan]

And, so, he has come again. Bringing levity and a keen wit (to say nothing of large vocabulary) to save us all from becoming too boring.

Hail and Fair Weather good Squatter! Long time no see!
---------------------------------
I thought that perhaps I should also illustrate an instance of "appropriate" use of background details, rather than just gripe about authors that failed.

When the hobbits and Aragorn were encamped at Weathertop there is a very good use of "background information" that both fits with the place and time in the story and serves to give foreshadowing of Aragorn's true calling. While I personally don't feel that the song in this passage is the Professor's best verse it serves to cast back to a prior time, and Aragorn is the link between past and present.

And more importantly, the passage is fairly brief.

Somehow it seems that if the glimpse into the distant past is brief it makes it more real. It tells you something, but you get the feeling that there is much more to that story to be told.

On the other hand, if you stop for eighteen pages to explain exactly why the Supreme High Muckidy Muckness of ten-thousand years ago felt obliged to slaughter all the members of his herem because one of his wives accidently stepped on his mighty moss-covered heirloom, that sense of mystery is lost.

Not only that, but you lose sight of the fact that there are five Nazgul creeping up the hill about to pounce on you. Long digressions into the "pastant dist" disrupt the flow of the story that is actually being told. You lose that connection that you had with the plot, and so when the Nazgul pounce you're not going to be "into it" as much.

[ August 04, 2002: Message edited by: Kuruharan ]

[mark12_30]

Bluntly:

Noble Elves should call me higher. They should be better than me. They should whisper to me of What Can Be if real holiness pervades my life. I think that's why I find Thranduil slightly annoying in The Hobbit-- his faults are a little too visible. (But then, he'd never been to Valinor, had he? But still.)

Gandalf may have a short temper-- his most notable fault!-- and little patience, but there is no doubting his nobility.

Aragorn-- noble to a fault. The man does not know how to lie. He would choke if he tried. Same with most of Faramir's men, it would seem.

The good guys can have some faults-- Gandalf's temper and short patience, Thranduil's odd behavor in The Hobbit. (Does Aragorn have any tangible faults? Mebbe not?)

The bad guys should have the real vices. And we should see that those vices are Ugly and Bad. But good guys are supposed to be-- well-- GOOD.

Point being that if you are going to give me details, give me details that point to virtue, goodness, holiness, supernatural beauty-that-is-goodness. Therein lies the wonder-- I think it is the same thing as holiness-- but it has to be GOOD. Holy. Beautiful. Otherwise it doesn't call us higher, and no wonder.

--Helen

[ August 04, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]

[littlemanpoet]

My internet server crashed and I timed out on my free internet this weekend and suffered major barrowdowns withdrawal. Thanks to the gods that my workplace allows internet use.

Kuruharan: Greetings and well met. :bows: You make an excellent point on 'fake depth'. And you had me chuckling heartily with your example. 'High and Mighty Order of the Yakkidy Yak, indeed! You pretty much said this, but I think one of the reasons it works for Tolkien is because the history and depth is already there and he can call upon it as it serves the story. Therefore, a writer needs to do all the background writing, and be complete as possible about it in order to have the resource available. Even then, it would be a kind service to the reader to use it right. You know, I don't think publishers much less most writers know what this is about, otherwise it would never get past the editors.

Your example of Aragorn's song of Luthien at Weathertop is right on.

Estelyn: That's a wonderful example from Tolkien regarding the phases of the moon. Yes, subtlety and I agree with Kuruharan, brevity.

Birdland: I hadn't thought of the attachment of modern sensibilities to protagonists as a fault, but you're right. Tolkien didn't do it, for obvious reasons. Some authors allow their protagonists to start out with modern sensibilities, but these get exploded by their experience of Faerie. I think that's what needs to happen. I can't think of any examples, but I seem to remember reading books in which protagonists maintain an ironic sarcasm throughout, and it kills the wonder. It almost forces Faerie to apologize to the protagonist, and therefore the reader, for what it is. Wrong, wrong, wrong!

Squatter:

If the interaction between two characters seems unlikely when placed into an equivalent real-life context then it probably won't work in Flobadobalopolis; Nutopia or the Mystic Kingdom of Kashmeichek either.

That is excellent.

Niphredil: I wasn't being critical of anyone's unpublished work in my little diatribe above. Nevertheless, the example you point to in your description of the castle, and the changes you made are indeed a case in point. The glistening of those curtains did wonders for me. Hah! Look, see? There's the wonder! It's nice to see that I'm at least a little consistent in my search for wonder...

On symbolic clothing and writers' favorite stuff: I'd say tread carefully. For Tolkien it worked because he made it natural and fun for Hobbits to be enamored of pipeweed. If you think your pet project might not be something that most readers will enjoy the way you do, cut it. I wrote one scene filled with wonder about how a cloud-mariner played his cloud like a harp and an organ and a choir one after the other, and I thought it was sublime. My readers thought it was too, but they pointed out to me that it did nothing for the plot, so out it went.

Nazgulnumber10: I'm glad you spoke up because I can tell you that no, I wasn't directing my diatribe at you. I confess that I haven't gotten to your story yet (I'm trying to catch up, really I am).

Muse: I'll keep Flaubert in mind. Thanks for mentioning him again.

Helen aka mark12-30: Elves are an especially touchy business, aren't they? I do agree with burrahobbit that context is important. So I think it depends on the purpose a writer has for his Elves. Not every writer's world is going to have the same kind of Elves as Tolkien's. He ennobled Elves even beyond anything ever written or spoken about them in the history of oral-tradition and legend-keeping, I'd say. Nevertheless, your point on good guys in fantasy being good (with maybe a character flaw or three) is well-taken. There is always the anti-hero whose character flaws outweigh his strong points, such as in the Thomas Covenant series. Come to think of it, maybe that's a fault and anti-heroes don't work in fantasy. Any opinions on that? That's pretty important to me because one of my protagonists has this very tendency.

[mark12_30]

lmp,
if the antihero's vices are due to a twisted virtue, then I think they can work. But if the anihero's vices are just plain vices and he's evil then I dn;t think so.

Fer instance, Feanor-- evil oath and all-- is likable, because his vice (lust for the Silmarils) is a twisted virtue (love of the light, artistic expression, creation of what is beautiful.)

Boromir is likable because his vice (lust after the Ring) is a twisted virtue (I'll do anything-- anything-- to save my City.) We can have compassion on that, because the noble desire shines through the faulty application.

I have a character who does some Really Stupid Things because he is desperately in love with, and telepathically bonded to, a woman he can't have, and he's tormented with the idea of losing her. Pitiable. And in the end, he's repentant, like Boromir.

But the "king" who does stupid vindictive things with his harem because he's just a jerk-- Not. And I never could get interested in the healed leper character from that series, because somebody told me his first act in his healed body was rape. Nice. Returning evil for good-- why would I want to read about that? There are more uplifting books out there.

--Helen

[littlemanpoet]

Helen, Covenant's first action set the tone for his (unenduringly imho) long and drawn out process of redemption. The last 50 pages of the final book finally turns into a page-turner and Covenant pays the hero's price and (within the law of the world Donaldson evoked) redeemed himself for all his sins. There may be many reasons why the Covenant series is subpar, but the anti-hero issue is not one of them imho.

Is it not C.S. Lewis who argues that every vice is a twisted virtue? If you accept his argument, the king who lechers and what-not in his harem may be worse than Boromir and Feanor and your character who does Really Stupid Things, but it would seem that you (perhaps rightly) rate certain sins as greater than others or balanced by more/greater virtue, which is fine. But that's different from saying that an anti-hero's vices are just plain vices.

[littlemanpoet]

I've been thinking about why McKiernan's French milieu doesn't work while Tolkien's Shire and Pullman's Victorian milieu do. Is it the fact that it's French instead of English? I don't think so. Disney's Beauty and the Beast, whatever its faults, succeeds in evoking a sense of wonder, and the French village from which Belle comes has its charm.

So I think there are details in Tolkien, Pullman, McKiernan, and Disney's BatB that function for charm instead of wonder, and it seems to me that this is appropriate because the Shire's Hobbits function as a mediation between our 20th/21st century reality and the mythic grandeur of Middle Earth. Just so, Pullman's Victorian milieu functions as a mediation between current time and the complex of his Armored Bears and multiple planets/universes and lands of the dead. McKiernan's French milieu is full of details that provide a sense of the charm of French 18th century life, but somehow (at least for me) the details kill the wonder. Why did it work in BatB and not in Once Upon a Winter's Night? None or all of you not having read the book, it's hard to have a discussion, so I guess I'm stuck thinking out loud.

I think that he fails, as did Niphredil Baggins in her first attempt in her castle, in that the details are all mundane. But is that not so of the Shire, too? What's different? I need to think about this some more, but I'm stuck and wouldn't mind some feedback. Okay?

[Anna Licumo]

Ohh, a lovely little thread here!

I think that he fails, as did Niphredil Baggins in her first attempt in her castle, in that the details are all mundane. But is that not so of the Shire, too? What's different? I need to think about this some more, but I'm stuck and wouldn't mind some feedback. Okay?

Hmmm. Okay, imagine on your first day of school, you're faced with all kinds of tall, intellegent people, and you feel very out of place. You can't find your class, but you do find someone else your age- and in his simplicty and likeness to you he's also the most interesting person there.

That is to say, Hobbits were so fascinating *because* of their simplicty in view of all the other majestic creatures. Noble Aragorn, powerful Gandalf, the Elves in thier 'holiness'... It is almost hard to relate to these people because you can't really compare yourself to them. You can, however, compare yourself to the Hobbits. In all the wonder of a Victorian castle, the old frumpy chair might be the only thing you think youself worty of sitting in- and though mundane, worthy of attention. The simplistic can be grand in view of unrelatable granduer.

Okay, I'm not sure if I'm even making sense to anyone other than me, so I'll leave it off here. Hopefully someone can find something of note to chew on in this very long rant!

[Kuruharan]

Well, I have to admit that I was not thinking explicitly of having a written backstory at the time I posted that, but it would probably be a good idea to have at least an outline of the story's history if the author wanted to refer to it in the context of the story. Having a timeline at least would be good. But one would not want to just drop in dates because that can also have a degrading effect on the story.

charm instead of wonder...the details kill the wonder.

So sometimes lack of description can be a good thing? Perhaps.
Does it make it more real to have something in a story that is taken for granted by the author and not mentioned, because it is something that is taken for granted by the characters? Although "real" may fall under the category of "charm" rather than "wonder."

Part of wonder is that it is something that is beyond our experience, or at least beyond the ordinary. The desire on our part to see and experience something "other" than ourselves or the things we understand well. The yearning for adventure, if you will.
(For some reason I suddenly feel myself seized by a longing to take an extended vacation.)

But on the other hand, if it is a story, it needs to be believeable within it's context. But that might be something that other people disagree with. I have a very orderly mind that doesn't like inconsistancies, loose ends, and the unexplained.

Then there is a degree of familiarity, like that of the hobbits, that may help contribute to the wonder.

[The Silver-shod Muse]

I think that he fails, as did Niphredil Baggins in her first attempt in her castle, in that the details are all mundane. But is that not so of the Shire, too? What's different? I need to think about this some more, but I'm stuck and wouldn't mind some feedback.

The Shire, besides being quite ordinary, instills the reader with a sense of wonder because it's intrinsically a good place, and a place that most readers, especially now in our world of distrust and crime, wish they could visit. The details of the Shire, and you'll notice that there are many as compared to Rivendell or Gondor, are never too much because they could be common, but really aren't anymore. It's almost like a window into an alternate reality.

As far as the role of Hobbits in Middle Earth goes, it sounds to me like Anna hit it. Hobbits personalize Middle Earth for us, thinking and saying all the things we might if we were trudging over the snow-bound Caradhras or gazing in awe at the Golden Wood. Hobbits are our link, our visa, if you will, to Middle Earth.

[Mister Underhill]

I think one of the attractions of a well-drawn fantasy world is that it’s simple – physically simple and morally simple. Communities are small and tight-knit, and each individual has some value and a well-defined role. Struggles and challenges are primary, visceral, and direct – to get from here to there (and back again), to find food, to overcome evil, to survive. There’s plenty of elbow room and everything is personal and unique – from hand-made clothing to hand-fashioned weapons to one-of-a-kind Hobbit-holes. You can, by and large, tell the good guys from the bad guys (yep, the bad guys live in “caves and maggot-holes” in lands that are “defiled [and] diseased beyond all healing” and tend to project an aura of dread wherever they go; the good guys live in trees near tinkling streams and know lots of nifty rhymes).

In such a world, there are none of the mundane, banal struggles that people deal with in real life: going to school and prepping for the SATs while trying to survive adolescence; working in a cubicle, crunching numbers, and enduring the small humiliations of corporate life while working for a living; getting the car registered, inspected, insured, smogged, and repaired; wondering if the mechanic ripped you off; crowded freeways, smog, and strip malls; and so on and so on.

We read fantasy to escape, to have the grey moral haze of our own world and its conflicts crystallized into primary, black and white struggles. Frodo never had to re-mortgage Bag End or stave off telemarketers; Sam never had to fill out an I-9 and a W-2 for Human Resources.

So my point is that any details that tend to make the fantastic world and its characters seem ordinary, dreary, and dull and life in that world seem like drudgery will destroy that work’s charm and wonder. Any details that make life there seem interesting and beautiful and exciting and fun and so on will increase that work’s charm and wonder.

But of course there’s no substitute for talent. Success or failure lies in the details, and some writers get it right just because they’re good.

Squatter, good to see you around! I get your point, but to nitpick a bit: I’d say that good fantasy can... should... even must have scenes, interactions, and characters that don’t have real-life equivalents.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

This thread is keeping me thinking on the aspect of wonder in literature. I haven't read a lot of fantasy to be able to compare; I enjoyed Ursula LeGuin's Earthsea cycle, but since I read the German translation and don't own it (local library) I can't remember details.

C. S. Lewis' space trilogy occurred to me though; it's science fiction, not fantasy, yet IMO the first two books cross that fine line in many aspects. CSL's descriptions of the unusual surroundings on Mars and Venus, the strange colors and shapes that familiar objects have in an unfamiliar environment, evoke astonishment and wonder. We are given Ransom's eyes to see it all through, and as his impression of strangeness changes to familiarity we too realize that our concept of beauty, being in the eye of the beholder, changes when the beholder's sight does.

The sense of wonder is strongest for me in Perelandra. The gradual discovery of a completely different lifestyle, especially the moving islands, causes me to ponder things I take for granted in my own life. Is it necessarily good to have the power to repeat pleasure on demand? What about just experiencing what comes my way? I discover that 'different' doesn't mean 'worse' and could very possibly mean 'better'. I just realized that a lot of the wonder is not only in the descriptions but also in the conversations between two persons of completely different backgrounds.

Then there's the third book, That Hideous Strength. I've never liked it, not even at last rereading after several people had told me it's their favorite. Now I realize why: the wonder is missing! The descriptive details are dictated by the circumstances of evil dominion, I know - but I still don't like them! They are more likely to produce nausea, disgust and loathing in the reader than astonishment. The whole book seems closer to horror than to high fantasy. Is it because there isn't enough description of the good to offset the evil? The latter seems much stronger and more vivid, and even its defeat at the end cannot change that impression.

[littlemanpoet]

Thank you all for excellent responses.

Anna: 'Tis good to see you here, Milady of the Gifted Quill. ::bows, removing bard's cap:: You have excellently illustrated my point of the Hobbits' mediation of Middle Earth. Your description brings out why I distinguish between charm and wonder:

Hobbits were so fascinating *because* of their simplicty in view of all the other majestic creatures. Noble Aragorn, powerful Gandalf, the Elves in thier 'holiness'...

Not sure if you're making sense!? Excellent examples!

Kuruharan: We in the "Are You Writing Serious Fantasy" thread have done our share of talking about backstory writing, so that's where that comes from.

I think one of the keys to good description is to keep it according to the pov of the most accessible character. Sam in Mordor. Gimli in the caves of the undead. Pippin at Minas Tirith. Frodo in Lorien and elsewhere. As to a lack of description, I think what's necessary is not bogging the reader down with needless description. It should evoke wonder, charm, a sense of place, or action such that it does not bog down the story.

Did McKiernan do this? Well, yes. Who cares if she has to wash dishes to make a living? It was the wrong direction to go with the plot. Then she sings for a living in a beerpub, and then in a concert hall. It's all too much like the real world. There should have been some more magical place, a more wonderous way to evoke her gift of song as magical, if that's what it was. I don't think McKiernan understands Faerie, or else maybe he was just playing around. A successful author can fall prey to such temptation, I suppose. Sorry for rambling there.

Part of wonder is that it is something that is beyond our experience, or at least beyond the ordinary.

Just so.

Muse: You argue convincingly for the Shire as a place of wonder. Your descriptions remind me what a wonderful place it was, but I still want to keep my distinction because of how the Hobbits and the Shire mediate between the reader and the grandeur of the rest of Middle Earth. Hobbits most certainly did have their foibles, which were not wonderous but still part of their charm.

Mister Underhill: Your point about simplicity is well taken. Yet we all would agree, I think, that Tolkien's Middle Earth is wonderful in its complexity, too. Maybe we're talking apples and oranges, though: visceral and moral simplicity combined with backstory complexity?

...any details that tend to make the fantastic world and its characters seem ordinary, dreary, and dull and life in that world seem like drudgery will destroy that work’s charm and wonder.

Precisely.

Estelyn: What you describe in your interaction with Lewis' space trilogy is Tolkien's sense of recovery, described in On Faerie Stories as (paraphrasing here) having seen clouds in fairyland, we see clouds in our own world with new eyes. We recover the wonder. I had the same experience in reading Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra. I for one did enjoy That Hideous Strength, partly because of Merlin and the scene of babel in the meeting room, but there was for me a sense of spiritual intensity that lent to me a kind of wonder. To each her own, I guess.

I agree that there seems to be a lot more evil than good described in THS. I think part of my enjoyment was the very darkness that was a turn-off for you.

McKiernan did present some things that achieved for me the 'new eyes of wonder'. His wide ocean is described well enough to have given me the sea-hunger.

Are there any other works that achieve the wonder, or don't? Why and why not? What else about LotR stand out as having done so? Is there anybody here at the Downs who takes exception to LotR's success in evoking wonder?

[ August 06, 2002: Message edited by: littlemanpoet ]

[Kuruharan]

We in the "Are You Writing Serious Fantasy" thread have done our share of talking about backstory writing, so that's where that comes from.

Ahh, I once followed that thread back in its early days, but I lost touch with it somewhere along the way. I'm not a writer (as most of my posts probably show). The only things that I know about it are the things that I have observed in the writings of others. However, sometimes I'll flail and thrash about with descriptions and advice about things that I've observed. (This thread for instance.) As Charles Schulz once had Marcie say, "All the best coaches are in the stands, sir!"

On with the erratic flailing about...

Then there's the third book, That Hideous Strength. I've never liked it, not even at last rereading after several people had told me it's their favorite...Is it because there isn't enough description of the good to offset the evil? The latter seems much stronger and more vivid, and even its defeat at the end cannot change that impression.

Perhaps its because its description of evil is so realistic. I kid you not when I tell you that I have heard college professors spout some of the same empty trash that members of the N.I.C.E., most specifically Frost but also Wither, embody in the story.

What else about LotR stand out as having done so?

When the Fellowship sails past the Argonath, that scene is impressive. I know that similar structures have been built, and in a way are still being built, and that you can go see them. However, in the book that scene is much more...impressive. Although in the real world I am not the long lost heir to the Pharaohs returning to Egypt, as Aragorn was the returning heir to those Isildur and Anarion. That probably adds something to that scene.

[ August 06, 2002: Message edited by: Kuruharan ]

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

And, so, he has come again.

Indeed. As was written these long ages past in the Prophecies of St. Lewdikrus (£10.99 from all reputable mysterious dusty manuscript emporia).

That is excellent.

My blush is visible even through the pizza stains, LMP.

I should also like to stress that I'm not trying to insult the work of anyone posting here. I only insult writing that's earning royalties for someone, in which case they have their cheques to console them.

Are there any other works that achieve the wonder, or don't? Why and why not? What else about LotR stand out as having done so? Is there anybody here at the Downs who takes exception to LotR's success in evoking wonder?

I can't remember what it was called (guess which category this one occupies), but there was one book that ruined a perfectly good story about demonic possession of a priest in a fantasy setting by containing a "Serjeant at arms", who behaved and spoke just like a rather cliched desk sergeant in a police drama, even going so far as to have him badgered by a gutter journalist. My opinion was that the author ought to have worked out whether the society of the novel was supposed to be mediaeval or post-industrial before sitting down to write about it.
By way of comparison, Tolkien was free of this confusion: Middle Earth is thoroughly pre-industrial in social relationships, warfare, transport and, most relevantly, the dissemination of news. On the other hand, I read another novel called "Rage of Angels" (I think), which was set in the future and got the social atmosphere just right.

I didn't like the Belgariad either, because the language that the main characters used seemed far too parochial for thousand-year-old mages, warrior kings and the like (it's like reading the dialogue from a family soap opera), but David Gemmell manages to talk about everyday issues without ever losing the reader's belief that the events he portrays are not taking place in the present day.

Is there a formula? I hope not: it would spoil the fun.

[EDIT: One of those novels was A Plague of Angels by Sheri S. Tepper. I'm still looking for the other.]

[The Silver-shod Muse]

Out of the Silent Planet and Perelandra

So much of the wonder I felt when reading those is due not so much to the lovely scenery but to the fact that C.S. Lewis opened my eyes to many theological and moral truths, or what I see now to be truths.

At first I was startled and horrified to read a book (Out of the Silent Planet, it was) by Lewis that seemed at first so pagan and errant. My eyes were closed to understanding then, but later I went back and re-read it. Needless to say, it astonished me.

That our Jesus could be the same as theirs, but naturally going under a different name, had never occurred to me. That other planets might yet exist in pre-sin innocence was unthought of. The wonder I felt in this instance didn't stem from novelty, details, or lack thereof, but from its applicability to our world and to the brilliant gleam of understanding that it brought to my life, and to my own fantasy writings.

[Naaramare]

An interesting thread, lmp. ^^ I also find McKiernan lacking in his Mithgar (or whatever) books, but that's less for details and more that he apes, but does not internalize, the lingual style, and it drives me bonkers.

I disagree with the statement that Aragorn would not be able to tell a lie. Deception is lying; he spent a good deal of time under other names in various cities, pretending to be someone he wasn't--to whit, lying.

Noble Elves should call me higher. They should be better than me. They should whisper to me of What Can Be if real holiness pervades my life.

I HATE Noble Elves.

I also don't think that a character has to be a shining glowing example of holiness to inspire/uplift me. In fact, I hate those kinds of people. I want to smack them. It's my major problem with the endings of Elizabeth Moon's Deed of Paksennarion; by the end of the book, I cannot identify with Paks. In the same vein, Elrond's nobility often makes my teeth ache.

Sam, on the other hand, who is often bigoted, stupid, frustratingly and detrimentally stubborn and has other flaws--REAL FAULTS, not pretend-faults like a "quick temper"--I can relate to. Gimli, with pride that is a REAL FLAW, I can relate to. And thus, when something happens to them that shows an uplifting, I share the sense of it.

I dislike that kind of oversimplification because I can't relate to it. Most of the elves in LotR are nothing more than vague shadows for me, devoid of personality, becase they are too perfect. It's the flawed ones that draw me and interest me--the actually flawed ones.

The most recent book that did this for me was Terry Prachett's "Guards, Guards!" One reaches the end of the books [SPOILER ALERT], and Captain Vimes has a short conversation with Lord Vetinari about the utter unsalvageable selfish evil of Mankind. There are no good people and bad people, Vetinari says, only bad people on opposite sides.

Then Vimes and his men, who are technically owed the entirety of the city for saving it from a dragon, when asked by Vetinari what they want in return . . .ask for a new kettle and a dartboard for the Guardhouse. Oh yes, and a five dollar pay raise.

THAT moment made me want to cry for its uplift. And Vimes and all his men are very humanly flawed.

Another good one is Diarmuid from the Fionavar Tapestry (a book that also does well at handling sex in a high fantasy manner . . .). Diarmuid is a Very Bad Example for Young Children. Diarmuid wenches, drinks, kills, hunts, plays idiotic tricks that endanger and take others lives.

Yet he is one of the most uplifting characters in it, at the end.

Flawless people don't inspire me, they irritate me and even discourage me, because as I see nothing of myself in them, I know I cannot be them. So I disagree with that. ^^

[Belin]

I think The Last Unicorn, mentioned by Birdie, is an extremely interesting example, and one that tests much of what has been said here. One of the most moving moments in it, for me (and one that evoked wonder), was Molly's speech to the Lady Amalthea late in the book, in which she defends Schmendrick's acting as the king's jester. The things she points out are entirely counter to many of the expectations of fantasy: once you get to the enchanted castle, you have to peel onions, wash dishes, and humiliate yourself before the evil king, and the prizes that the prince brings home are nothing more than sad severed heads. Molly touches on all of this when she points out that all these efforts are for the sake of the unicorn, and this (for me) is where the wonder comes in.
So I'm trying to analyze my "wondered" reaction. Is it because these mundane chores are seen as unworthy of them, and fantasy is serving as a reassurance that this is not all there is? Is it because they're given a purpose? Does it have to do with the element of redemption Naaramare has mentioned--a moment in which we see that the rather flawed and ineffectual Schmendrick does indeed love the unicorn?
On the other hand, this moment has additional meaning because the novel is dealing with this very issue, the stifling of wonder by the mundane as the unicorn becomes more and more like a human woman, and the details in Molly's speech are all the more significant because they are the enemy and we have already understood that.
So, um, yes, I'd say that I consider context very important. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that wonder depends not so much on which details are used as on the story's relationship to its details. But then again, that's approximately what's been said so far, isn't it?

I love all the ideas about the mediation provided by the hobbits. It is indeed their awkwardness that provides the readers with a relationship to the larger doings, and the ability (also important to creating the effect of wonder, I think) to pull away from wonder at times. The use of backstory in LotR very much reminds me of a phrase in "Leaf by Niggle" about the distant Forest that you could approach and even enter without it losing that particular charm. (I think those are the words used; my copy is unfortunately far from me at the moment.) You aren't asked to be like the Noble Elves; you are allowed a glimpse of them for which I find that I feel grateful. But the whole book isn't about glimpsing the far-off and wonderous... that would be exhausting, and, in the end, not very entertaining. We're drawn back in toward Pippin's weariness, or Sam's cooking, and a little later, the wonderous emerges again. I think that to attempt to sustain wonder throughout an entire novel is probably to lose it, and the reader's belief. It happens in small flashes.

--Belin Ibaimendi,
hoping this makes some sense. It all sounded so much better in my head......

[ August 07, 2002: Message edited by: Belin ]

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Squatter, good to see you around! I get your point, but to nitpick a bit: I’d say that good fantasy can... should... even must have scenes, interactions, and characters that don’t have real-life equivalents.

What ho, Underhill; sorry I missed your greeting last night.
I didn't put my point awfully well (I seem to have been too concerned with inventing amusing fantasy place names), so I shall elucidate:
What I was trying to say was that the way in which people react to certain conditions is a constant, unaffected by such transient details as art, architecture, language, social structure and so forth. Fantasy as a genre invents a different social milieu (along with flora, fauna, geography and so on), but that can only be convincing if it seems likely that people could create such a society, and if the behaviour of the characters who occupy it is consistent with the world that has been created for them. Social interaction is a difficult thing to project, but we can see a convincing approach in the difference between, for example, Hobbits and Gondor's elite: the Hobbits use simple, unadorned language with a familiar, friendly approach, whereas those characters they encounter who occupy a higher station are more high-flown and courtly (at least where appropriate). You don't see Kings and Queens talking like greengrocers, or country folk speaking as though they were at the Court of St. James, and this is consistent with the world in which the action occurs. There's also a good distribution of knowledge (ie those with access to a lot of books and and interest in reading them know more of the details of their history than other characters, whose lives are less literary).

I entirely agree that there ought to be plenty of unusual events and personalities, especially when concerning such elements as magic, which don't really feature in modern life, but it's still possible to portray a hero about to face some mythic beast, or a group of yeomen who have just witnessed some amazing manifestation of arcane power, in a manner that makes the events seem likely and realistic. The situation doesn't have to be one that could arise in our world for it to be believable if handled correctly, and even the most mundane of events can seem ludicrous if unconvincingly portrayed.

[littlemanpoet]

Naaramare: I think you've hit upon the thing that really bugs me about McKiernan. Admittedly I've only read one book by him, but your reaction to Mithgar strikes the same chord:

...he apes, but does not internalize, the lingual style...

Precisely. And well stated. That dragon of his in "Winter's Night" just bugged me. I roared with indignation. "You had such great mythic stature and you threw it all away, you IDIOT!" Maybe he's just not that good. Well, I think I'll avoid Mithgar.

Ah yes, Diarmuid and "the gesture". Quite moving. By the way, GGK really ticked me off when [SPOILER ALERT!] the great white dragon got let off the hook of fulfilling its destiny and a little flying unicorn has to "stand" in its stead in order to achieve the eucatastrophe. Admittedly, with the great white dragon, there never could have been the eucatastrophe Kay achieved; on the other hand the one he drew up I found totally unbelievable. So even if I could have reached that state of wonder, it was shortcircuited by this failure (the author's I insist) to persuade me to maintain my suspension of disbelief. But I think his eucatastrophe could have been even better, because he could have allowed the great white dragon to be destroyed by (i forget his name) the evil dude in the far northern fortress, and then the little flying unicorn would have had my sympathy as the last small hope. It's been a few years so I don't remember all the names, but that one failure (i won't say ruined) mitigated the book's wonder for me.

Belin: It's been so long since I read The Last Unicorn. Luckily, I own it and can refresh my memory. I remember a pervasive sadness based in the realization that all the wonder was dying away. As a male reader, the last unicorn turning into a beautiful woman (with a certain amount of magic about her) lent to the wonder, too.

...wonder depends not so much on which details are used as on the story's relationship to its details...

This is a great summation of the thing I'm getting at. Thank you for saying it so well.

Here's something to stir the discussion juices: I think Redwall is subpar. My wife devoured the entire corpus but I struggled through just the first book and decided, 'no more'. I think of Tolkien's distinction between fairytale and beastfable and wonder if the author was trying to do too much. Then again, maybe he could have succeeded but failed on account of the story's relationship to its details. For one thing, I always found the thing too pat. Like a Disney movie. Formulaic. "Okay, here's another evil villain whose evil plans the good guys will frustrate, and this villain too will die at the hands of his supposed allies or some outside force because the good guys never murder, don't even kill in battle. They're too good. Ho hum.

[Evisse the Blue]

maybe my post here will be a little late and a little cold, but still- i gotta speak my mind.
it's the same as with the good horror shows - too much detail spoils the fun.
Tolkien's Middle Earth manages to scare and delight me by implying that there are so many 'creatures' and 'things' lurking in the shadows, that one cannot possibly know them all. Kinda different from our world, right? One of our famous poets once said that one shouldn't destroy the "flower colora" of the world, but keep its mysteries intact, instead of trying to unravel them.

[dragongirlG]

I know I'm late in this thread, and I apologize. Good discussion, lmp. [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]

I believe the "right" details are the ones that allow the reader's mind to imagine and move freely in his or her own thoughts. For example, Tolkien did it correctly because he never specifically described Frodo. I'm not saying you shouldn't describe things, but you should keep it somewhat ambiguous. As Jessica Jade says, "One of the greatest things in Tolkien is vague ambiguity." The character that you know, love, and admire (Frodo) is left to your own thoughts and descriptions.

The overkill of details ruins the story. As Estelyn says, Tolkien did it right because he used one word to describe something when many more could be used. Rowling did it right because she did it simply. She made the characters slightly complex, but the descriptions of the objects were not too lengthy. Personally I think the characterization should be complex, but the descriptions and objects simple. As for dialogue, don't make it too boring. Make it relevant to the plot. I'm sure you can write a very good conversation, but it must relate to the story, or else there's really no point in having it there. It can be symbolism too, just don't make it completely irrelevant that the reader is left scratching his/her head trying to figure it out. If you want to have symbolism there must always be a surface meaning and a deeper meaning. Of course, you all knew that already, and this in itself is irrelevant to the post.

I'm sorry I can't say more, but I'm not yet experienced in eloquence to really express it. When the school year starts maybe I will be. (I'm joining mock trial which is pretty much equivalent to debate team.)

Bye for now,
Ginger

[Kuruharan]

lmp: You're married? Hmm, there goes my mental picture of the lone poet struggling with his verse on the streetfront of a little Parisian bistro. To be replaced with the mental picture of the harrassed poet arguing with his wife in the backyard, much to the amusement of the neighbors, as his treasured verse lies unregarded under a deck chair.

Ahh, the glorious misconceptions of the past...(a phrase that I seem to be using more and more of late).

Okay, here's another evil villain whose evil plans the good guys will frustrate, and this villain too will die at the hands of his supposed allies or some outside force because the good guys never murder, don't even kill in battle. They're too good.

I don't think that this storyline is inherently bad or devoid of wonder. It's just been overused, or misused. That was actually sort of the ending of That Hideous Strength when the N.I.C.E. was destroyed through the intervention of "outside forces." Although I have to admit that I read that series one right after the other so the "wonder" of Malacandra and Perelandra was still with me and the story-arc was still tied together. Estelyn may be right that THS might not have had that wonder in and of itself. It's hard to imagine that LOTR could have ended in a similar fashion (aside from the fact that it didn't) because Sauron's slaves would never have turned against him and overthrown him. Although his fall was indirectly due to "outside intervention."

it's the same as with the good horror shows - too much detail spoils the fun.

Along that line, I think that Sauron never personally making an appearance in LOTR was one of Tolkien's best ideas. It makes the enemy seem more dangerous and helps contribute to the overall wonder of Middle earth. (And it avoids the mistake of Milton, a point which was foremost in Tolkien's mind.)

[Naaramare]

lmp:

because he could have allowed the great white dragon to be destroyed by (i forget his name) the evil dude in the far northern fortress

Rakoth. ^^ (Yeah, this is an oft-reread book). I never had that problem, because that wasn't the eucatastrophe for me. Oh, it was sad that Imraith (the unicorn) died, and all that, but the true "moment" for me was when Kim made her choice to allow the Queen of Waters to stay where she was. None of that had anything to do with Imraith and the boy for me; it was all about the fact that there's a point where, even in an impossible war against total evil, that one must draw the line at what one will do. If the Queen of Waters had been there, I have no doubt that she would have utterly destroyed the Black Dragon, as the Gods had intended . . .but Kim decided that it wasn't worth the price. It wasn't worth utterly destroying the dwarves to achieve. There was where she drew the line, the difference, I suppose, between good and evil (embodied in expediency).

I deal with the same thing in my own story: impossible evil, and a chance to end it. My herione faces both, and has to decide between stopping the war and paying the price--essentially, her own soul, and possibly something more--or allowing the war and paying THAT price, in blood and bodies. Always choose the lesser of two evils, but which is the lesser? Kim's moment of choice was the eucatastrophe for me, not Imraith's death.

Imraith and her rider were always secondary to that whole moment, at least for me. They were just the inevitable consequence, but not the moment that made me cry. I knew that Imraith was doomed the moment she stepped into the story.

As to Redwall, I enjoyed it, but the same way I enjoy my five-hour-read Sword and Sorcery fantasies. I loved it as a child, and still enjoy the first one (He wayyyyy overdid it, however. The back to basics plot and such were charming .. . ONCE. By about the seventh book . . .eh.)

(edit) I was thinking this morning, and it occurred to me that Fionavar Tapestry is in sharp contrast to LotR in it's basic mythos-premise-thing (it's early, gimme a break). LotR is, as has been mentioned--over and over and over again--profoundly Christian in it's essential mythos. The idea of everything coming back and contributing to God [Eru]'s basic idea, of everything in the end being tributory to his awesome . . .self, as the Creator, and also the exaltation of humbling oneself and submitting to higher authority . . .these are all very Christian themes.

FT, on the other hand, is profoundly pagan in the same way. The Weaver, the being closest to control of everything . . .even the Weaver doesn't overwhelm our free will. She/he/it (can't remember if the sex was specified) can set out the basic pattern, but the thread of "wild magic"--free will--means that even he/she/it has no real control. Everything was set up for Kim to bind the Queen of Waters; Macha and Nemain, with the Weaver behind them, had CHOSEN the dragon to counter Rakoth's. And Kim, little human Kim the Seer, made her own choice not to bind it.

Of course, as a result she had to face the consequences, but it was still her own choice, made independantly of the gods, the Loom and anything else.

Just a thought.

[ August 08, 2002: Message edited by: Naaramare ]

[Mister Underhill]

lmp – re: simplicity, you’re quite right. I don’t mean to preclude complexity in character, relationships, narrative style, or in the details of the imagined world. “Simple” is such a bugger of an imprecise term. I mean that the lives of fantasy characters are more direct and primary. When they’re threatened by evil, it’s not faceless evil like pollution or corporate sales agendas, and it’s not low-grade evil like ignorance or casual bigotry – it’s evil that burns down your village and enslaves all your people, evil that you can see (well, usually) and face and take a sword to.

Squatter’s comments are right on the money and even bear expanding upon, I think. The world portrayed must be portrayed convincingly (at least on its own terms), or “wonder” is doomed. Part of Tolkien’s genius, I think, is the creative authority he establishes very early on in LotR and maintains throughout. Middle-earth just seems “real” and internally consistent. It’s this creative authority, I think, that allows the prof to get away even with such outlandish details as Tom Bombadil, who, in any other work, I think, would smash credibility to tiny bits.

Kuruharan makes a nice point too, re: never seeing Sauron. I think of this as the John the Baptist Technique – sending other characters ahead to announce and prepare us for how to think of another character. It’s always more effective to have other characters tell us how to think about the character in question – so when people like Gandalf, Aragorn, and Elrond speak of Sauron in tones of dread and grave worry – refusing even to name him out loud – we get the idea that he’s one tough customer. Tolkien uses this method frequently. Watch how he uses the reactions and the dialogue of his characters to set us up for Khazad-dûm, for Lothlórien, for Mordor. He creates an air of wonder and mystery about these places well before we even get there – by the time his characters first clap eyes on their destination, his job is already half done.

[Birdland]

OK, this may be apropos of nothing, but:

a little flying unicorn...

Kinda gilding the lily, aren't we?

These kind o "made-up" mythological characters just annoy the crap outa me.

Now take the Uunicorn. You combine the legends of the Egyptians, the Chinese, Medieval Europe, and throw in the narwhal tooth for that element of "well, maybe...", and you've got yourself a darn, fine mythological beast on your hands.

You can take that mythos and put it in unusual situations, surrounded by strange characters, and it stands firm. It has a history. You know what it is capable of, you can draw on its background to build its character. And your readers have a couple of thousand years of stories and legends to endear that character to them.

Now what do you get when you cobble together a bunch of disparate "cool" looking physical characteristics to make up a brand new beast? A mythological mutt, that's what. (And usually, just too cute for words. [img]smilies/rolleyes.gif[/img] )

The same thing can happen to "human" characters. Tolkien based most of his heros on Northern Europe and Anglo-Saxon legends. These legends all have a common base, so whatever physical characteristics he gave them, whether Elf, Dwarf, Man or Hobbit, you were aware of their history and background. They stand firm. And they become real to us.

So what do you get when you cobble together a hero from Beowulf, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Marvel Comics, and a a 70's film antihero? A mish-mash, that's what. Another mythological mutt who can behave in any of a variety of ways, because their background is so disjointed. And in the end this very variety actually serves to make the character boring. It is as if the author were able to select their emotions and reactions as if he were choosing from a Chinese restaurant menu" "one from column A, one from Column B."

OK, that was a rant, and maybe it didn't make much sense, but what I'm trying to communicate is right on the tip of my tongue... [img]smilies/tongue.gif[/img]

[Naaramare]

::laughs:: Flying unicorns have always been part of my own personal mythos, Birdie. I can't remember where I picked up the first one, but they've always been there since I was a child, and I don't know of anyone who didn't have flying unicorns as part of their faerie world; heck, the kids I played with didn't know that "traditional" unicorns DIDN'T have wings until some know-it-all brought a book. At which point we told him off for being a stick in the mud, and our unicorns kept their wings. So I wouldn't say that GGK was gilding the lily there.

However, in general I agree with you, although I sort of disagree, too; mostly what with my scifi background and blurring the lines betwixt the genres. ^~

[Kuruharan]

the John the Baptist Technique – sending other characters ahead to announce and prepare us for how to think of another character...so when people like Gandalf, Aragorn, and Elrond speak of Sauron in tones of dread and grave worry

John the Baptist Technique. That's a good way of putting it.

The reader can also observe the reactions of those two characters in the story who have a more personal encounter with Sauron, Gollum and Pippin. Connecting this idea with the visual concept of "the least seen monster is the scariest" Tolkien uses a written way of coming into contact with the "monster" but actually seeing little of him.

Gollum is the only character that we meet, aside from Elrond and the Mouth of Sauron no doubt, who has actually seen Sauron in the flesh. Gollum's experiences are shown through him licking his fingers as if remembering old tortures, various shudderings and cringings, and one physical description. Four fingers on the Black Hand, but they are enough! Through these old memories the reader has a degree of personal contact with Sauron, and it was clearly a terrible experience for poor Gollum. We get a glimpse of this terrible and powerful being, but only a glimpse.

There is also the fresh and vivid memories of Pippin after he looked into the Stone. Pippin did not see Sauron in the flesh, but had a meeting of the minds. It nearly broke him. One wonders what would have happened if another being of great power had not been there to help. The description that Pippin gives is vague, but powerful. Sauron apparently had a horrible...something. My guess would be glare or eye, but it is more moving because Pippin could not bring himself to speak it. Again this is the barest glimpse of the monster lurking in the shadows, but that is all we need, and all the author wishes to convey.

It could be said that Sauron appeared in the LOTR in the form of the Ring itself, and that's probably true. However, the Ring was not really the center of his being and intelligence.

And I was going for discussing the whole "old movie monster that we don't ever see" effect in the story.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

It’s this creative authority, I think, that allows the prof to get away even with such outlandish details as Tom Bombadil, who, in any other work, I think, would smash credibility to tiny bits.

On the other hand, does he need to get away with Tom Bombadil? I rather think that part of the wonder of Middle-Earth is that it's impossible to know or explain everything about it. We're intrigued by a character like Tom because he can't be quantified. In a world where more and more things, including people, are being explained, defined and conveniently pigeonholed every day, we're rapidly running out of opportunities to experience the thrill of the inexplicable in adult life, and therein lies the attraction.
Not only that, but I would find it pretty difficult to believe in a world in which everything was conveniently explained for me: some things are best hinted at, as with Tom's brooch from the Barrow Downs, for example.

Having said that, some people (and I must admit that I'm one) like lots of additional information that would completely ruin the narrative, so, true to his academic training, the Professor put all of that background into a series of appendices, to which the curious might refer without the need to break up his story with footnotes and long-winded digressions. In so doing he gave his world depth without drowning his narrative in details, and still left enough unsaid to keep the reader interested. Small wonder that Tolkien has so many imitators and so few equals.

[Mister Underhill]

I was thinking more of the whole yellow boots and funky rhymes routine. How many writers can you think of who could get away with "ring a ding dillo" only a little over a hundred pages into their masterwork without shattering their creative authority? That's a short list, my friend. I think Tolkien pulls it off because we sense oceans of time and a vast potency to Tom beneath the silly veneer.

You're absolutely right that unexplained (and ultimately inexplicable) phenomena such as Bombadil add to the effect of making Middle-earth seem real, as do conflicting accounts of the past and the outright misinformation of some characters.

[littlemanpoet]

Kuruharan:

You're married? Hmm, there goes my mental picture......harrassed poet arguing with his wife in the backyard...

Ouch. That's almost too close to the reality. If there had been aisles I'd have been laughing in them. Harrassed poet, indeed. Well, yeah. Just last night I think I was on the witness stand being cross examined again. Not really. Well, yeah really. Kindof. enuf abowt mee.

Regarding the villain's demise and details adhering thereto, I have no problem if an author uses this plot device once, and does it well. My problem with Redwall is that the author used the same tired formula FIVE TIMES in the SAME BOOK! Come ON!

Mister Underhill: I could not agree with more with all you have to say.

Birdland: "mythological mutt", eh? I'm having laughing fits. Good one. You make a good point .... to a point. I have to agree with Naaramare with a further qualification (or is it elucidation?): as has been said already, it depends on how the writer uses the detail of her mythological mutt.

An illustration of writers' fantasy resources
came to me while I was debating a point on Kalessin's rant, and I became so enamoured of it that I'll repeat it here, especially since it is to the point. There are a number of different mountains of myth down which flow streams of legend and rivers of story. Every writer starts with an empty bucket called "the story I will write" and goes to the flowing waters. Some writers go to the broad rivers near the oceans with their huge cities and great harbors. Here nothing is pure, all his mixed. Other writers draw their water from further upstream, but in places where the confluence of a number of different mountains of myth have converged. For example, the Celtic and Greek and Norse all flow into one river. Further upstream you come to streams that flow out of only one mountain. This is where you dip into legend that has been affected by the confluence of a number of different streams. And finally, high up one mountain, the writer draws from a clean spring. Say the Norse mythos. This is clean and pure and has its own freshness, but in order to make it interesting to the reader back in the seacoast city, the writer must draw from her own mind (here the analogy breaks down unless I get a little gross) and bring her own unconscious/subconscious to bear upon the fresh spring water.

Now, I prefer stories where the writer has drawn from high upstream. Others prefer only city water. Most of us, I expect, prefer our stories with a little mix, but not too muddled, not too pristine.

I think that the writers drawing from pristine and muddled subject matter have the greatest challenge in making their works, well, work.

[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

I was thinking more of the whole yellow boots and funky rhymes routine.

Oh, that. Never really thought about it much myself: you can't have a decent planet without a bit of poor dress-sense and some quirky comic songs. After all, what sort of a world is it that only has sagas and tragedies? Everyone would be alcoholics.

Having said that, some readers are lost somewhere near the first "Hey dol", never to return, and serve them right too.