What is Literary Fiction, Part 2

This post and its predecessors have been consolidated into and superseded by:

https://www.writingforums.org/entry/literary-fiction-a-consolidated-practical-view.66349/

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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 redefined as unconventional conflict in order to maintain the sanctity of the model, but popular fiction rarely relies on other forward-propelling principles.

Chapter arcs. Chapters in popular fiction typically have one of three tension arcs. The most common is a microcosm of the overall plot; it begins at Point A, rises in tension through Point B, and then resolves into falling tension at Point C, at which point something has changed to advance the action. An alternative is the arc that rises steadily to a cliffhanger of sorts, where the tension is resolved in a subsequent chapter. And of course the third common arc is resolution from high tension to low, as in the chapter following a cliffhanging end.

Digressions and discursions. These are actually not elements of most popular fiction, but things usually cut from early drafts. The archetypal reader of popular fiction lacks patience for an extended digression or prolonged discourse on even a central subject.

Historical popular fiction sometimes digresses into subjects like social mores, methods of extracting and using dyes, the background to an election, or such period detail, though such digressions are usually (in contrast to their treatment in literary fiction) limited to short observations. Similarly, popular science fiction often goes into details of future technology that are not strictly necessary to advancing the plot. Fantasy often goes to lengths in description of its characters' distinguishing characteristics. Each genre has its conventions on acceptable digression and discourse, but such deviations from true course tend to be limited.


Genre Conventions.

Archetypal readers of popular fiction prefer and relate best to conventionality and familiar ways of saying things. They have some tolerance and appreciation for cleverness and minor novelty, but for instance the scathing low-star (minority opinion) reviews on Amazon for Smilla's Sense of Snow and especially the UK version Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow demonstrate how strongly such readers react against anything that goes too far outside of conventionality for comfort.

Each genre has special expectations and permissions regarding the elements discussed above. Readers of popular traditional mystery tend to be particular about clues, red herrings, false suspects, and the like, and can be quite judgmental when the "rules" are broken, as though the author has cheated. Romance, spy thrillers, men's adventure... every genre has its expected plot points, stock characters, tropes and conventions.

Experienced readers of a popular genre love these conventions and take much pleasure in seeing them enacted in the expected way and order, while allowing and enjoying clever small twists and innovations. Archetypal readers are disappointed when the conventions are not met, and annoyed at material that falls too far outside the traditional coloring-lines.

Conclusion

These points are simplified, of course—and even so, this is already overlong for a blog post. They're meant to characterize the considerations that popular writers—who may be highly advanced and subtle in their technique—bear in mind to keep their final product accessible and satisfying to the widest possible readership.

A future post will look at the ways that literary fiction relates to and often ignores some of these elements.