Popular/"commercial" and literary fiction differ considerably in the norms and values that shape them. Their core readerships want and expect different things—in many respects opposite things. The body of received wisdom that's usually applied to the writing and formative critique of popular fiction often does not apply to literary fiction and may not strengthen but weaken it. In this post, I've systematized my thoughts on how and why "good" popular and literary fiction are so different, and what characteristics appeal to their respective core readers.
This post and its series have been consolidated into and superseded by: https://www.writingforums.org/entry/literary-fiction-a-consolidated-practical-view.66349/ ========================================================================= So we're in the process of looking at Literary Fiction through the contemporary book-trade definition of not conforming to the restrictions, expectations, conventions, etc, of Popular Fiction. The previous post outlined a number of the elements that shape Popular Fiction. It's really tempting to go through the differences in the order of their significance in Literary Fiction. For instance, LF is often defined outside LF circles as character-driven instead of plot-driven. And surely a preference for artful telling lies at the heart of LF culture. And plot is seldom paramount, serving instead as a backdrop on which to paint more interesting things. And literary fiction is often full of digressions and extended discourse on one topic or another. But it's probably less confusing (if not necessarily more enlightening) to go through the same reference points I used for Popular Fiction in the same order, to wit Length, Readership, Language, Showing, Resolutions, Characters, Plots, and Conventions-and-Templates. Length It's all over the place. Literary Fiction can be short when it wants to be. But it can also be long. Somerset Maugham's 1915 Of Human Bondage (now elevated to literature, of course) is 260,000 words. But wait—Herman Wouk's 1971 War and Remembrance is 443,000. Some would call W&R a war epic rather than literary (not that the two must be exclusive), and Wouk himself probably preferred that description. But by a contemporary definition, he's not Popular Fiction and is therefore Literary Fiction. (Though James Michener insisted on and rightly belongs to Popular Fiction even when surpassing the wordcounts of Wouk's war epics.) John Fowles was a golden boy of mid-1900s literary fiction, and his 1965 The Magus came in at 240,000 words. William Styron's 1979 Sophie's Choice was 245,000. Of course these were well-established authors in a time very different from our own, but literary readers do not in the least mind long works, as long as they find them well-written. Literary agents may be another matter. Readership Readers of literary fiction seek novelty and unconventionality. They have high reading levels regardless of formal education. They differ from archetypal readers of popular fiction in other ways that are best highlighted in reference to other elements downpost. Of course they may enjoy popular fiction as well, much the way some people enjoy both popular and cultural-legacy music, but they appreciate them for different qualities. Language Literary fiction tends to use more complex language than popular fiction. It tends to use a much larger vocabulary. Particularly John Fowles (1926-2005), William Styron (1925-2006), and Anthony Burgess (1917-1993) were known for sending readers to their dictionaries—and their readers loved encountering and learning these carefully descriptive mots justes. Unlike the archetypal reader of popular fiction who—and I've often seen this as well among writers in critique groups—expresses overt irritation at having to look up a word, the archetypal reader of literary fiction looks forward to the experience. More contemporary writers of literary fiction like Margaret Atwood are perhaps less prone to exotic vocabulary, but often delight with the complexity of their sentences and the elegance of their syntax. Literary language has as many moods as impressionist painting. It may be muted and subtle in one place, rhythmic and snappy in another… What it rarely is is artificially vivid in the way that some authors of popular fiction teach themselves to write counter to plain language. Lingering, even poetic descriptions that would undoubtedly be cut from a work of popular fiction are perfectly at home in literary fiction. Neither a sophisticated peer, an agent, nor an editor would cut such a thing if well-written. There's a high tolerance for stylized language and for authenticity of dialect—though a literary writer might be more inclined to describe dialect eloquently than to reproduce it literally. Literary readers follow a writer wherever he or she goes, as long as they're rewarded with delightful finds. Show-don't-tell and In-the-moment narration Artful telling is the essence of much literary fiction, supported with a sufficiency of showing. A typical literary reader does not need or want to see everything enacted. Indirect dialogue or a mixture of direct and indirect dialogue is common. The mood or larger meaning of a scene is often lost in its details. That's a difficult lesson for writers of popular fiction to learn when they attempt literary fiction. They've been taught to show as much as possible. Literary fiction simply does not do that often. When it does rely heavily on dialogue, it's often a distilled kind of dialogue, simpler than real life, in which smaller statements stand for larger meanings. Literary fiction often uses artful telling in indirect narration of periods of time. It may characterize the passage of time, it may use brief vignettes and the like… Such things are possible in popular fiction, but they're often mainstays of literary fiction. Literary readers enjoy learning about the essence of a period of time, or its effect on a character, in ways that simply cannot be conveyed by showing in detail. An analogy from painting is a semi-literal depiction of for instance a street scene, in which trees, people, houses, automobiles, etc, are still recognizable as themselves, but parts of the paper or canvas are blank, and the subjects are not so much literally depicted as characterized in lines and colors. Another analogy from painting would be a scene reflected off a wet sidewalk. Of course there are no true rules about literary fiction. For every characterization like this one, it's easy to find counter-examples. But artful telling, non-literal description, and more indirect dialogue are differences one commonly finds. Resolutions Literary fiction frequently has ambiguous resolutions that leave loose ends. Poignancy and authenticity to real life are two of the motivations for such an approach, and literary readers expect and welcome ambiguity's emotional complexity. Many literary readers are suspicious of traditional resolutions that tie everything up in a neat little bow. Characters Literary fiction is often described as character-driven narrative. That's both a simplification and an overgeneralization, but true in a sense. To overgeneralize about popular genre fiction, one can say that each of the common templates requires certain character-roles. The author then devises details to fill out the role of Hero Commencing A Journey, etc. Literary fiction more often begins with ideas of certain characters not devised to fill a role, just people with certain characteristics that interest the author, who then puts them together in his or her mind and imagines how they would interact authentically, in real life—not according to tropes or narrative models. Of course that's only a single approach. The point is that rules and models are usually not the guiding principle. If a literary author follows a template, expect to see impish things happen to the template. Mostly they try to make up things outside the run of the mill. Literary fiction is full of vicarious protagonists like Jay Gatsby in The Great Gatsby, and Sebastian Flyte (and his sister Julia as well, for that matter) in Brideshead Revisited, both stories in which the first-person narrator and nominal protagonist is not an active, story-shaping force but a witness to some story being driven by events and inexorability outside his control. Literary fiction can be principally about character, but it can also be principally about milieu or about something meta to the story. There are very few rules a literary writer is unwilling to break, or which a literary reader is unwilling to accept seeing broken. Plots If in popular fiction, everything else exists in service of plot, it's often accurate to say that in literary fiction, plot exists in service of everything else, or at least something else. In my impression, that's more often true than not. Plot in literary fiction is a trellis, a framework on which to hang something else—the something varies widely, but plot is rarely paramount. It merely needs to be serviceable to the real point of the novel or story, which is often to illustrate character. Religious painting is a good analogy. At least in theory, everyone knows the story of Jesus, particularly once he goes to Jerusalem. There are no plot surprises in religious paintings. If they tell a story, they lead to crucifixion and resurrection, or sometimes to Salome and John the Baptist, or to Delilah and Samson in the Temple. So for modern viewers, what is their point? The point is...
This post and its predecessors have been consolidated into and superseded by: https://www.writingforums.org/entry/literary-fiction-a-consolidated-practical-view.66349/ ========================================================================= The first post in this series defined Literary Fiction in practical terms as fiction that does not adhere to the restrictions, expectations, values, or conventions of popular fiction or its many genres. The second post took a superficial look at some of the specific restrictions, expectations, values, and conventions that work together to shape Popular Fiction. Before looking at ways in which Literary Fiction diverges on those comparison points, it's worth naming some in-between categories of fiction. Upmarket Fiction, also sometimes known as Bookclub Fiction, is a form of essentially popular fiction that caters to a market with a higher reading level and more complex expectations regarding plot and production values. Alice Seybold's 2002 The Lovely Bones has been described as upmarket fiction, although personally, I might classify it as hybrid fiction. (Though it's been 20 years since I read it.) Lines in this middle area are often blurry, even if the distinction between the poles of popular and literary is always obvious. Hybrid Fiction, also sometimes known as Semi-literary Fiction, is a form of essentially literary fiction that shows some broader market sensibility, for instance being somewhat more accessible and perhaps written as a wrapper around some more traditional genre treatment. In my recollection, Peter Høeg's 1992 Smilla's Sense of Snow (Edited UK translation titled Miss Smilla's Feeling For Snow) is possibly an example of this phenomenon of giving a literary treatment to a traditional mystery. It includes philosophical elements and others often considered literary, but was mainstream enough to be turned into a film that enjoyed some commercial success.
This post and its predecessors have been consolidated into and superseded by: https://www.writingforums.org/entry/literary-fiction-a-consolidated-practical-view.66349/ ========================================================================= The first post of this series defined literary fiction entirely in relation to popular fiction—specifically, as fiction written outside the conventions, expectations, values, templates, and received wisdom that govern the writing of popular fiction. That's not to say that literary fiction conforms in no respect, only that it non-conforms in one or more respects. Later posts will make some attempt at describing literary fiction, but if its primary definition is heedlessness of one or more characteristics of popular fiction, we should take a closer look at popular fiction's characteristics. What defines "good" popular fiction? One answer is nearly everything written on the Web about what constitutes good writing, which all reflects the last half-century's Received Wisdom about good fiction-writing in general. But looking more dissectively, good popular fiction is heedful of its Length, its Readership, its Language, its Showing, its Resolutions, its Characters, its Plots, and its Conventions and Templates. The following observations are not a recipe for writing good popular fiction, merely characterizations of elements in which literary fiction often differs. Length As reported by agents at writers' conferences, a new writer of popular fiction must come in at 100,000 words or less to have a hope of getting representation or publication for a work. Additionally, chapters should not exceed 3,000 words, according to this new generation of agents. Such limits did not apply even to new popular fiction in the past, but industry insiders claim that younger generations of readers today lack patience for reading long novels or long chapters. Readership Popular fiction is meant to be accessible to any interested reader with a high-school education. Such a lowest-common-denominator reader may miss many of the refinements of some genres, but they should at least be able to read without difficulty and enjoy the aspects they recognize. Esoteric subjects, character-motivations, and forms are unlikely to interest the preponderance of people who otherwise enjoy reading popular fiction. In the usual statistical sense, "most" readers of popular fiction do not like to encounter words they don't already know, and do not take the trouble to look up such words. Certainly there are exceptions to the observation, but those tend to be readers who enjoy a mixture of popular, upmarket, hybrid, and literary fiction. (See the next post in this series for elaboration.) Language The language of popular fiction should be straightforward and utilitarian. The standard is often described as "12th-grade reading level," although it appears there are many 12th graders who do not read even at that level. Sites like readable.io are sometimes used to assess readability based on vocabulary, length of words, length and complexity of sentences, and many other factors. Writers are often told to use "strong" or "active" language and to avoid passive voice. By active language is meant the use of pithy, punchy verbs and adjectives, a practice that critique-group fiction often takes to excess. By passive voice is meant . . . well, apparently a wide variety of putative sins, few of which in fact fall under the grammatical definition of passive voice (John was killed, as opposed to Someone killed John). Under that rubric one often encounters advice to avoid a form like was sitting, which is in fact progressive aspect, not passive voice, and should often be used in distinction to sat. Indeed one often encounters advice to avoid altogether the verb forms was, were, is and are as much as possible. I believe that such an extreme application is found in critique group culture more than in published editorial practice. Show-don't-tell and In-the-moment Narration The mantra of popular fiction writing is of course Show Don't Tell. The interpretation can be subtle and non-literal, as in He was an angry man compared to He was the kind of man who could take affront toward a lamppost — the second has a specificity that can be called showing. More commonly, Show-don't-tell is taken to mean one should demonstrate a trait like habitual anger by enacting it through dialogue and in-the-moment events. Popular fiction is high in enactment-style showing, putting much or most of what happens into dialogue and in-the-moment narration. This is particularly true of certain genres like young adult, spy fiction, men's adventure, and romance. Genres like historical fiction and science fiction are more tolerant of narration that describes the passage of time without taking the reader directly into the moment. There's a tolerance for a certain amount of telling, but telling is considered inherently inferior. Resolutions Archetypal readers of popular fiction want clear resolutions. They want a story to end with a satisfying revenge or comeuppance, or with long-frustrated lovers in church or in bed (or at least heading for one of those destinations), or with similarly clear and satisfying solutions that tie up loose ends. They have little tolerance for unclear, ambiguous, or unsatisfying endings, even though such endings are often more true-to-life. They expect stories (and sub-plots) to end the way it oughta be instead of the way they all-too-often see things end in real life. Characters Characters should be interesting, clearly likable (or redeemable) or dislikable (or pitiable), and not overly complex. They exist in service of plot (else we'd be verging into Literary Fiction). Their emotions should be easily relatable for a wide variety of readers. The protagonist should be active in the story, not reactive or a mere witness as in much literary fiction. (He or she is the chief actor or combatant, etymologically.) He should change as a consequence of the story, through a combination of his own and others' actions. The writer must make clear what the protagonist wants to achieve, attain, or procure—what they stand to gain or lose, commonly referred to as the stakes or what is at stake for the character. Normally there will be one or more antagonists opposed to the protagonist. There's an entire taxonomy of nemesis, antagonist, villain, false friend, etc. To some extent, that's insider ball mostly recognized by writers, but some readers recognize and look for such roles—especially on the intuitive level. Depending on the genre or subgenre, there are a number of other standard roles, some obligatory and others optional, and the writer devises a character to fulfill the prescribed characteristics for that role. The most latitude exists in painting the protagonist and possibly a love interest. As one moves farther from the protagonist and (principal) antagonist, the painting of characters may become more pro forma. Plots Popular fiction is [nearly?] always plot-centric. The archetypal reader cares most about what happens: what comes next and how it all ends. He or she is impatient with material that impedes forward motion. Thus popular fiction is considered well-written when the narrative is efficient and expeditious in moving characters through the prescribed phases and plot points. Readers expect some obstacles and detours as impediments for the protagonist to overcome, so that form of unexpeditious narrative is allowed as long as it eventually leads to a satisfying resolution. Leaving loose ends is considered maladroit. Chekhovian parsimony applies. Only relevant elements should be present; if an element is present, it should be used to advance the action; if it does not find such a use, it should be cut. But Chekhovian parsimony is not a truth, only a stylistic choice, like Dogma 95 in filmmaking, or asceticism or hedonism or epicureanism or 12-step sobriety in personal life. Yet it's the single most widely accepted principle in popular fiction. Thus it's also the dominant ethos in most critique groups. Cut, cut, cut is the easiest impulse (and skill) to teach oneself, particularly in application to others' writing in distinction to one's own; and so it tends to dominate critique-group culture. Tension. Popular fiction runs almost entirely on two sources of tension: primarily interpersonal conflict and secondarily suspense in the general sense of the word. One of these is normally expected to appear in every chapter, and to provide the overall sense of tension for the novel or story as a whole. There's some room for variation, and so for instance romance incorporates the elements of longing and events associated with it to provide tension. One sometimes sees other tension principles...
This post and its series have been consolidated into and superseded by: https://www.writingforums.org/entry/literary-fiction-a-consolidated-practical-view.66349/ ========================================================================= What is literary fiction? It's a perennial question with as many answers as there are people who presume to answer it. But in the book trade, all of the practical answers distill to a single thing. Literary contemporary fiction is defined in contrast to popular, mass-market fiction. It is fiction that does not cater to the conventions, expectations, or values of popular fiction or its many genres. It's written outside those conventions and is recognizable already by that characteristic alone. The distinction really is that simple, and need not be defined with reference to artistic pretension, holier-than-thou attitudes, or anything of the sort. There's an entire body of received wisdom on "How we write [popular] fiction" — and literary writing selectively ignores much, most, or conceivably in certain cases all of it. In contrast, there's no single value system or set of conventions or received wisdom that applies to literary fiction across the board, or nearly across the board, but it does all have in common that it's guided by lights or principles other than the conventions, expectations, values, templates, and received wisdom that guide successful writers of popular fiction. If it conformed entirely to those, it would quite simply be popular fiction. In upcoming posts, I'll share some ruminations on secondary differences between literary and popular fiction, and on what the differences imply for appreciation and constructive formative critique. Meanwhile, lest anyone jump to unfounded conclusions, I should say from the outset that although my writing leans to the literary side, I do read and enjoy popular fiction as well — much as I listen to both some popular music and some "classical," though I perform only the latter. Popular and "art" music have different value systems, suit different moods, and require different skills and sensibilities to perform them at advanced-to-virtuoso levels. I relate to the musical forms differently, but I relate to both. Writing is not that different. I relate to (and read) both literary and popular fiction, though in different ways. Each gives room for advanced-to-virtuoso writing, though such writing looks different and is defined differently in each. I find I'm able to give constructive formative critique to many instances of writing on either side of the popular / literary distinction, but certainly not to all instances even on "my" side. Yet in my critique suggestions, I'm always mindful of the divergent expectations and values. There are many and differing perspectives on what constitutes "good" storytelling — many more than received wisdom might be taken to imply.