Thursday, March 19, 2009

Writing Fiction From a Pedestal

I've recently been reading some of the late Michael Crichton's novels. Crichton, who rose to fame for his exciting science fiction novel The Andromeda Strain, wrote his stories with the idea of introducing the reader to specific trends in scientific and engineering research and then extrapolating those trends to usually calamitous results. Thus the fusing of computer technology with the human nervous system creates a homicidal monster, dinosaurs grown from DNA containing their genetic codes get loose and wreck havoc, nano-machines create their own swarms and plot to take over the world, and now, in State of Fear (the book I've just finished reading), the author reveals his skepticism about global warming. Crichton apparently believed that, regarding the environmental movement, the politics came first and the scientific research was then tailored to fit those political positions.

In the Michael Crichton novels that I've read so far (The Andromeda Strain, The Terminal Man, Timeline, Congo, and Prey), the author did extensive research on the topics and then cluttered the stories with intimidating technical details, apparently with the aim of enforcing his authority on the subject in the reader's mind. I am not very enthusiastic about this tactic of writing (a reason I don't feel like reading Jack Clancy novels, either). I instead prefer a relatively minimalist approach that emphasizes characters and the story. Sure, it's necessary to lay out some technical details in a story in order to create in the reader's imagination the "new world" that the author is using as the story's setting. For example, in the Harry Potter series, author J.K. Rowling naturally did her own research on magic and mythology in order to create an alternative, exotic world. But she didn't drown the reader in details either. And that's what I appreciate in a writer.

In the realm of science fiction, during the middle of the twentieth century, there were three writers who were generally considered to be the top three science fiction writers around: Robert Heinlein, Arthur C. Clarke, and Isaac Asimov. All three of these (especially Asimov) wrote their fiction with the aim of staying true to the principles of science in their writing (and often painfully making a major point about this to the reader). And then there was Ray Bradbury, a contemporary of the "big three" who enjoyed a higher level of respect as a general writer and who sometimes wrote science fiction. But when I read Bradbury, I don't get the feeling that I am some lowly student in an undergraduate science class, being talked down to by some professor (as is often the case with Crichton/Heinlein/Clarke/Asimov).

When I read a story, I want to feel that the author and I are communicating on the same general level, and that I am not expected to just take in whatever slop (s)he decides to shovel in, just because it is dressed with extensive technical jargon. Reading for me is almost an act of conspiracy between two kindred souls. If one of those souls insists on standing up on a high pedestal, then I'm not going to read with the same enthusiasm that I would have if that same writer had just written like an ordinary person with no pretensions of grandeur. An author has to reveal enough knowledge of the subject to make the story believable, but there's no point in being a complete smartass about it!

1 comment:

  1. If you think Crichton included too much esoteric detail, read Eco. I loved Foucault’s Pendulum, but I wished I’d had a historian who specialized in the Knights Templar handy when I read it. For The Name of the Rose, I did have, not a historian, but a companion “key” book (here) that translated the Latin and explained the details.

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