It seems like an age ago already \u2013 two or three British Prime Minsters back \u2013 but last week we talked about how even novels that aren\u2019t about spying are nevertheless about deception and false-surfaces and subtexts. I want to talk a bit more about that in a second, but first a couple of bits of housekeeping.<\/p>\n
First, AgentMatch<\/strong>. Yes we know this isn\u2019t working for some users. We\u2019re working on a fix right now.<\/p>\n Second, site speed<\/strong>. Especially for logged-in users, the site is way too slow. Again, we think we know where the issue lies and we\u2019re working on a fix now.<\/p>\n And third<\/strong>, I\u2019ve been having a merry old time this week and last working on your elevator pitches<\/strong> in preparation for a Meet Your Match day [when?]<\/strong>. Link? It\u2019s really enjoyable to be part of this, and I\u2019ve watched some pitches really blossom through the process.<\/p>\n See what\u2019s been going on here<\/a>. I\u2019ll be dropping back over the weekend to give more comments. My own comments are restricted to those of you who are Premium Members, but there\u2019s a lot of really useful peer-to-peer interaction too. So, either way, come along<\/a> and see what\u2019s happening. As I say, I\u2019ve been loving it.<\/p>\n Right. Back to deceptions and subtexts.<\/strong><\/p>\n One classic-classic example of a novel founded on just such an idea is Pride & Prejudice<\/em>. Take, for example, the first Darcy \/ Lizzie Bennet proposal scene. He says he\u2019s prepared to marry her, despite her terrible family. She refuses, heatedly and proudly. But what\u2019s really happened here? Is he truly as arrogant as he appears. (Answer: no, clearly not.) And is she correct in thinking she could never love this man? (Ditto.) The joy of the scene, and the book, is our ability to unpeel the layers from the clues Jane Austen provides.<\/p>\n A similar and classic-in-a-way example would be the whole love triangle in Bridget Jones\u2019s Diary<\/em>. Who will capture Bridget\u2019s heart \u2013 the charming bounder Hugh Grant, or the stiff and apparently aloof Colin Firth character? Again, part of the reader\u2019s joy is teasing apart the clues that reveal who each man really is.<\/p>\n And, to be clear, this clue-building is HARD.<\/strong><\/p>\n You have to:<\/p>\n The last element is \u2013 for me, at any rate \u2013 particularly important. Over the past decade, there\u2019s been an upsurge in psychological thrillers, where the general theme is something like: Sweet nurse Betsy seems like the person everyone turns to in a crisis but, because of [insert concealed childhood trauma here], Betsy is really a [insert nature of horrible crime here.]<\/p>\n Sometimes, of course, that structure works just fine. But very often, it feels OK at a mechanical level only. So yes, you can, in theory, get your head around the idea that someone who (let\u2019s say) was kicked by a horse in childhood might want to secretly harm horses today.<\/p>\n But that works better in a theoretical way than a practical one. Loads of people hang out with horses as kids. Inevitably, those people get kicked from time to time. The ones I know in that category are still potty about horses and certainly aren\u2019t animal abusers.<\/p>\n So a non-mechanical version of that story has to layer things in a way that we can see the shape of the first character (nice, sweet Betsy) in the shape of the finally revealed one (evil, animal-killing Betsy.) Sometimes, that clue-development is sheer genius: the prime modern example is Gillian Flynn\u2019s Gone Girl<\/em>. Other times, as I say, the whole book ends up feeling like rusty cogs turning against each other and no real human insight.<\/p>\n But it\u2019s a mistake to think only about the big elements of plot here. This theme of readers figuring out a character<\/em> happens all the time in good fiction. Teasing out text and subtext is a huge part of why readers read. (And if that process involves a nice romance, or a few good corpses, or a first-rate terror plot, then so much the better.)<\/p>\n I was searching around for a good example. I wanted something where we felt subtext plucking at the text all the time.<\/p>\n I looked at a few books and, in the good ones, that text\/subtext tension happens pretty much all the time \u2013 certainly when any two people are encountering each other. Then I realised that I had the perfect example on my own computer.<\/p>\n Page 1, Chapter 1 of the Fiona Griffiths series reports Fiona\u2019s interview for the South Wales Police.<\/p>\n Nothing happens.<\/strong><\/p>\n Nothing.<\/p>\n She has applied for a job. By the end of the interview, it\u2019s clear that she\u2019s going to get it. All that \u201cstory = conflict\u201d stuff just doesn\u2019t make an appearance. At no stage during the (very brief) interview is it remotely suggested that she should not get a job.<\/p>\n At a surface level, the text isn\u2019t kinetic at all. There\u2019s no glimmer of story, or not until the very final line. You could argue that the chapter doesn\u2019t obey any of the classic rules of story-telling.<\/p>\n And yet? The book had multi-publisher auctions in multiple territories. In the US, my editor \u2013 one of the leading names in crime \u2013 told me that she knew she had to buy the book after a couple of pages.<\/p>\n So something<\/em> was happening, and it wasn\u2019t story.<\/p>\n It was text vs subtext.<\/strong><\/p>\n That\u2019s it from me. I think it\u2019s probably my turn to be Prime Minister soon, or at least Home Secretary, so my next email will come from a very shiny desk somewhere in London. THE FIRST CHAPTER FROM TALKING TO THE DEAD – The first FG story<\/strong><\/p>\n Interview, October 2006<\/strong><\/p>\n Beyond the window, I can see three kites hanging in the air over Bute Park. One blue, one yellow, one pink. Their shapes are precise, as though stencilled. From this distance, I can\u2019t see the lines that tether them, so when the kites move, it\u2019s as though they\u2019re doing so of their own accord. An all-encompassing sunlight has swallowed depth and shadow.<\/p>\n I observe all this as I wait for DCI Matthews to finish rearranging the documents on his desk. He shuffles the last file from the stack before him to a chair in front of the window. The office is still messy, but at least we can see each other now.<\/p>\n \u2018There,\u2019 he says.<\/p>\n I smile. [fake smile – we already feel it. Matthews hasn’t done anything to make her smile.]<\/strong><\/p>\n He holds up a sheet of paper. The printed side is facing him, but against the light from the window I see the shape of my name at the top. I smile again, not because I feel like smiling but because I can\u2019t think of anything sensible to say. This is an interview. My interviewer has my CV. What does he want me to do? Applaud? [Aha! We were right about that fake smile. Here she is thinking sarcastic thoughts about a senior police officer.]<\/strong><\/p>\n He puts the CV down on the desk in the only empty patch available. He starts to read it through line by line, marking off each section with his forefinger as he does so. Education. A levels. University. Interests. Referees.<\/p>\n His finger moves back to the centre of the page. University. [Hmm. We’re wondering if there’s a big reveal here. This is the first time this wandering narrative seems to have had found a centre of interest.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018Philosophy.\u2019<\/p>\n I nod.<\/p>\n \u2018Why are we here? What\u2019s it all about? That sort of thing?\u2019 [ie: The pop version of philosophy. Not a very testing question. We don’t quite get what the interview purpose is here.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018Not exactly. More like, what exists? What doesn\u2019t exist? How do we know whether it exists or not? Things like that.\u2019 [FG instantly corrects to a more technical definition of academic philosophy. That’s giving us a clue that FG is probably smart – but it’s also waving a flag to say that the nature of existence is at play in this book. It’s promising some depth. You couldn’t sensibly have a start like this and then dive into a James Patterson novel.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018Useful for police work.\u2019 [Again, not much of an interview question, but we do feel as though something’s beginning to move here. This non-interview interview is beginning to generate data.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018Not really. I don\u2019t think it\u2019s useful for anything much, except maybe teaching us to think.\u2019 [Is this conflict? Not really. But it’s interesting that the first thing that even resembles an interview question is just batted away by Fiona. She’s being given an opportunity to sell herself here, and declines it. Why? And again, the emphasis on thinking: this tells us, doesn’t it?, that Fiona is smart and cares about things of the mind.]<\/strong><\/p>\n Matthews is a big man. Not gym-big, but Welsh-big, with the sort of comfortable muscularity that suggests a past involving farm work, rugby and beer. He has remarkably pale eyes and thick dark hair. Even his fingers have little dark hairs running all the way to the final joint. He is the opposite of me. [Wow! What a thing to say. I mean, of course there are ways that big-man \/ small-woman are opposites, but Fiona’s surely saying more than that? We probably don’t quite have enough data to figure out what’s going on, but “opposite of me” probably means the opposite of “comfortable muscularity” and “farm work, rugby and beer”. So what is the opposite of that? We don’t know, but our subtext monitors are sucking this stuff up trying to build a picture.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018Do you think you have a realistic idea of what police work involves?\u2019 [First actual interview question]<\/strong><\/p>\n I shrug. I don\u2019t know. How are you meant to know if you haven\u2019t done it? I say the sort of thing that I think I\u2019m meant to say. I\u2019m interested in law enforcement. I appreciate the value of a disciplined, methodical approach. Blah, blah. Yadda, yadda. Good little girl in her dark grey interview outfit saying all the things she\u2019s meant to say. [First actual interview answer, but we sense Fiona’s lack of interest in what she says. She doesn’t in fact even bother to tell us.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018You don\u2019t think you might get bored?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Bored?\u2019 I laugh with relief. That\u2019s what he was probing at. \u2018Maybe. I hope so. I quite like a little boredom.\u2019 Then, worried he might feel I am being arrogant \u2013 prize-winning Cambridge philosopher sneers at stupid policeman \u2013 I backtrack. \u2018I mean, I like things orderly. I<\/em>s dotted, t<\/em>s crossed. If that involves some routine work, then fine. I like it.\u2019 [Ah! So this is interesting. We were right that Fiona’s smart – she’s won philosophy prizes at Cambridge. But she really wants the job. She’s stressed about it. Hence the relief. Hence the anxiety to make the answer right.]<\/strong><\/p>\n His finger is still on the CV, but it\u2019s tracked up an inch or so. A levels. [Why an inch? British teenagers do A-level exams at roughly age 18. What happened then?]<\/strong> He leaves his finger there, fixes those pale eyes on me and says, \u2018Do you have any questions for me?\u2019<\/p>\n I know that\u2019s what he\u2019s meant to say at some stage, but we\u2019ve got forty-five minutes allocated for this interview and we\u2019ve only used ten at the outside, most of which I\u2019ve spent watching him shift stationery around his office. Because I\u2019m taken by surprise \u2013 and because I\u2019m still a bit rubbish at these things [Still, why still? What is she referring to?]<\/strong> \u2013 I say the wrong thing.<\/p>\n \u2018Questions? No.\u2019 There\u2019s a short gap in which he registers surprise and I feel like an idiot. \u2018I mean, I want the job. I don\u2019t have any questions about that.\u2019 [Is this the first completely authentic moment from Fiona\/ It feels like it. His surprise and her feeling of idiocy sort of confirm that. Why does she want the job so much? She’s very bright. She could do anything. Why this?]<\/strong><\/p>\n His turn to smile. A real one, not fake ones like mine. [Confirmation that she has been faking for most of this process.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018You do. You really do.\u2019 He makes that a statement not a question. For a DCI, he\u2019s not very good at asking questions. [Except – he IS good, isn’t he? He’s teased out truth from someone disinclined to offer it.]<\/strong> I nod anyway.<\/p>\n \u2018And you\u2019d probably quite like it if I didn\u2019t ask you about a two-year gap in your CV, around the time of your A levels.\u2019<\/p>\n I nod again, more slowly. Yes, I would quite like it if you didn\u2019t ask about that.<\/p>\n [Wow! What was that<\/em> about? We don’t know. Neither person seems like they want to divulge more.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018Human resources know what\u2019s going on there, do they?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Yes. I\u2019ve already been into that with them. I was ill. Then I got better.\u2019 [A very empty, non-informative answer.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018Who in human resources?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Katie. Katie Andrews.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018And the illness?\u2019 [That’s a real question.]<\/strong><\/p>\n I shrug. \u2018I\u2019m fine now.\u2019 [And that definitely doesn’t answer it. This door is nailed shut.]<\/strong><\/p>\n A non-answer. I hope he doesn\u2019t push further, and he doesn\u2019t. He checks with me who\u2019s interviewed me so far. The answer is, pretty much everyone. This session with Matthews is the final hurdle.<\/p>\n \u2018OK. Your father knows you\u2019re applying for this job?\u2019 [Weird question]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018Yes.\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018He must be pleased.\u2019 [Ditto. Why the repetition? Why is he asking this?]<\/strong><\/p>\n Another statement in place of a question. I don\u2019t answer it. [Another closed door. Another refusal to divulge.]<\/strong><\/p>\n Matthews examines my face intently. Maybe that\u2019s his interview technique. Maybe he doesn\u2019t ask his suspects any questions, he just makes statements and scrutinises their faces in the wide open light from the big Cardiff sky.<\/p>\n \u2018We\u2019re going to offer you a job, you know that?\u2019 [Huh? What? At one level, nothing has been asked or answered. Or rather: the only thing that actually has been asked & answered was about her really, really wanting the job.]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018You are?\u2019<\/p>\n \u2018Of course we are. Coppers aren\u2019t thick, but you\u2019ve got more brains than anyone else in this building. You\u2019re fit. You don\u2019t have a record. You were ill for a time as a teenager, but you\u2019re fine now. You want to work for us. Why wouldn\u2019t we hire you?\u2019 [OK, fair enough. Maybe this interview has been reasonably rational after all.]<\/strong><\/p>\n I could think of a couple of possible answers to that, but I don\u2019t volunteer them. [More non-disclosure. What does<\/em> behind those doors? We want to know now.]<\/strong> I\u2019m suddenly aware of being intensely relieved, which scares me a bit, because I wasn\u2019t aware of having been anxious. [She’s scared<\/em> by being relieved? That’s a bit much isn’t it? Another clue to tuck away for later.]<\/strong> I\u2019m standing up. Matthews has stood up too and comes towards me, shaking my hand and saying something. His big shoulders block my view of Bute Park and I lose sight of the kites. Matthews is talking about formalities and I\u2019m blathering answers back at him, but my attention isn\u2019t with any of that stuff. I\u2019m going to be a policewoman. And just five years ago, I was dead.<\/p>\n [OK, those last two sentences do give us a waft of story – finally! The penultimate sentence says “Don’t worry, readers, this IS going to be a crime novel.” The final sentence says – what? We don’t know. She can’t<\/em> have been dead, because she’s alive now. But we do now want to know what lies behind that statement – the subtext beneath the text. As far as I can see, that text\/subtext battle is the only reason that someone might want to read beyond this first chapter, because it offers essentially nothing else. And even on the text\/subtext thing, it mostly shows us doors that feel completely closed. And, funnily enough, this text\/subtext opening is true to the book itself. Yes, there’s a traditional crime mystery here. (Corpses, investigation, solution.) But the real mystery is Fiona herself and we don’t fully unlock that until the very end of the book.]<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It seems like an age ago already \u2013 two or three British Prime Minsters back \u2013 but last week we talked about how even novels that aren\u2019t about spying are nevertheless about deception and false-surfaces and subtexts. I want to talk a bit more about that in a second, but first a couple of bits<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":32,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[29292],"tags":[29213],"class_list":["post-21618","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-harrys-friday-email","tag-harry-friday-email"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n\n
\n____<\/p>\n