{"id":6660,"date":"2021-11-12T14:00:00","date_gmt":"2021-11-12T14:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jerichowriters.com\/townhouse\/articles\/the-ragged-edge\/"},"modified":"2021-11-12T14:00:00","modified_gmt":"2021-11-12T14:00:00","slug":"the-ragged-edge","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jerichowriters.com\/the-ragged-edge\/","title":{"rendered":"The ragged edge"},"content":{"rendered":"

You know those conman-led heist movies? Ocean\u2019s 11 <\/em>would be an example, or American Hustle<\/em>. There\u2019s plenty of mystery as the things are playing out (Why did X do that? What is Y building? Why is Z dressed as a motorbike courier?) but the final reveal explains everything. Once you have the whole story in your hands, it has the feel of a glossy and finely machined puzzle, every part locking smoothly into place.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s tempting to think that this is how story works \u2013 how it has to work \u2013 and of course at a broad level, that\u2019s true. When you finish a whodunit, you want to know whodunit and why and how. Likewise with a romance, you want to know what kept the guy and the girl apart, and how that obstacle can be overcome. And so on \u2013 stories are a process of puzzle and explanation, no matter what genre you\u2019re talking about.<\/p>\n

But especially at a micro-scale, you can get excellent results by just taking your reader to the edge of the unexplained \u2013 then leaving them there. Here\u2019s an example of what I mean. The passage is an excerpt (edited for length) from Anthony Doerr\u2019s All The Light We Cannot See<\/em>:<\/p>\n

Number 4 rue Vauborel. Still intact\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n

A single airplane tracks across the deepening blue, incredibly high. Von Rumpel retreats down the long ladder into the tunnels of the fort below. Trying not to limp, not to think of the bulges in his groin. In the underground commissary, men sit against the walls spooning oatmeal from their upturned helmets. The electric lights cash them in alternating pools of glare and shadow.<\/em><\/p>\n

Von Rumpel sits on an ammunition box and eats cheese from a tube. The colonel in charge of defending Saint-Malo has made speeches to these men, speeches about valor, about how any hour the Hermann Goering Division will break the American line at Avranches \u2026 but von Rumpel is thinking now of the black vine inside him. A black vine that has grown branches through his legs and arms \u2026 Only a matter of time until the black vine chokes off his heart.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2018What?\u2019 says a soldier beside him.<\/em><\/p>\n

Von Rumpel sniffs. \u2018I do not think I said anything.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n

The soldier squints back into the oatmeal in his helmet. Von Rumpel squeezes out the last of the vile, salty cheese and drops the empty tube between his feet. The house is still there. His army still holds the city.<\/em><\/p>\n

There are two senses in which this passage evades explanation \u2013 and will go on doing so, no matter how much more of the book you read.<\/p>\n

First, we just don\u2019t know why the soldier thinks Von Rumpel said something. Did Von Rumpel sob? Or make some other noise? Or was the soldier just hearing things? We can\u2019t say. The interchange is never explained, an oddity.<\/p>\n

But a deeper part of the passage\u2019s elusiveness comes from the way it combines ingredients:<\/p>\n