The University vs. The Market

It seems to me there is a great disparity between literary writing and the stuff prepared for popular consumption. I like to think of them as the difference between Bruce Willis and Adrien Brody. You can talk about John McClane's struggling relationship with his wife against the metaphorical backdrop of the skyscraper, the significance of the yuletide season, and the contradiction of a New York law officer in L.A., but in the end Die Hard can be summed up with the glorious, unforgettable phrase, "yipee ki-yay mother *****r. In contrast, while some stuff happens in the aptly named Brody's films, they seem to be centered on character arc and subtlety.

Thus cinema reflects its elder form of storytelling. The short stories I've read wield the English language like a scalpel, cutting to the heart of the human condition, laying bare our faults and insecurities, our ill fated hopes along with the bitter dregs of disillusionment. And sex. Always the sex, but not the steamy, exciting sensuousness you'll find in a Harlequin romance or the suave, almost comically seductive charm of 007. No, literary sex is filled with disappointment, and shame and calloused depravity. What strikes me hardest about literature, however, more than its depressing quality or the scent of cheap cologne and regret is that nothing happens.

Well, almost nothing. Nothing interesting, anyway.

I've read ten shorts in the last two weeks (and one day), and there have been exactly two that have taken advantage of fiction's flexibility by exploring the impossible or highly unlikely. One, in which a woman turns into a fox which was just plain weird, and a suspiciously self serving story in which a book critic gets shot in the head. The rest are highly plausible, commonplace, and dare I say it? Yes, yes I do dare. They are boring.

But I wish I could write like these people.

They do boring so well, so artfully, so sneakily, so cleverishly that it isn't until you finish the story that you realize how boring they are. And why? Because they promise excitement the whole way through. They whisper in your ear, suggesting the chance for high intrigue or a twist ending. They leave the door open for happy ever after, then they slam it in your face with a non sequitur and an unresolved arc.

It could be that I am being too hard on these authors. I'm sure that some of these stories are excerpts, so of course there will be no resolution in the middle of the book. Others simply don't speak to me where I am as a person. I am a white American male living in a Midwest suburban paradise; obviously I am not going to find some of this stuff relevant. I'm also shorting them on their positive points. The dark complexity of these characters are a breath of fresh air from the tired tropes and stereotypes that are typically trotted out for the mainstream. In the end, though, I am unsatisfied with both the razor wit of the University and the bludgeoning predictability of the Market. I'm looking to perfect the nuances of both, and then have them make sweet, sweet love to produce a thrilling, fun, interesting novel with a deeper meaning underneath, but only if the reader cares to look.