Cliches.....are they really all that bad?

The definition of "novel" I offer here is limited, of course.

First, I'll say that Proust doesn't write novels, but Sthendal does, because there is no drama, and no proper story in A la recherche du temps perdu", but Le Rouge et le Noir is a novel with characters, and dramatic tension, conflicts, a beginning, a middle, and an ending where something happened to the characters, a more or less complete tying up of the plot.

As JDW says, Le Guin was certainly writing in reaction to mainstream SFF.
 
Over the years, I've tried to read Le Rouge et le Noir and La Chartreuse de Parme, and in each case I found the plodding prose of the translation unbearable and didn't get very far. Possibly due to the sins of his translators, Stendhal isn't really well-known over here. Could you give another example, Flavia?
 
Im' sorry about the bad translation. The Red and the Black is beautifully written.

The Three Musketeers is a novel

and

The Count of Montecristo is, too



but I was looking for a more literary--and known--one...

Les Miserables

The Name of the Rose

I think it would be more difficult, and interesting, to make a list of the non-novels.
 
I'm sorry about the bad translation.

Unless you were the translator, I see no reason for you to apologize. (This is where I would put in a smilie, if I used them.)

We Americans are very unfortunate in that our schools don't insist on our learning other languages while our young brains are still malleable. I'm sure that we miss a great deal because of it.

I asked about The Count of Monte Cristo because I wondered if some might consider it too much of a romance -- in the old sense of the word -- to qualify as a novel. But if the Count is in, then I think most, if not all, SFF works of novel length would qualify as well.
 
One of my favorite fantasy novels (published about thirty years before LOTR, but certainly Frodo and Sam paved the way for it to be reissued and gain a following in the 1970's) is Lud-in-the-Mist, which is full of ordinary people, living ordinary lives, even though they live on the borders of Fairyland. It doesn't have a medieval setting -- although anyone determined to stretch anything pre-Industrial Revolution into medieval could probably accomplish it -- the main characters are merchants and their families, no one discovers a magical artifact or learns they're the heir of kings, and there isn't a single battle scene. There are no wizards, no magicians or witches, and it is still one of the most magical books I've ever read.

I missed this one... :eek: I haven't read Lud-in-the-Mist, and I certainly will, thanks to your mentioning it.


On The Count of Montecristo.

A reminder:

Set in Marseilles, Rome and Paris in the nineteenth century, this book by Alexandre Dumas tells the story of Edmond Dantès, a young sailor who is falsely accused of treason and imprisoned in a dungeon for fourteen years. A fellow prisoner tells him where to find treasure buried on a Mediterranean island called Monte Cristo. On Dantès’s escape, he acquires the treasure, gives himself the name Count of Monte Cristo, and ruthlessly goes about the slow destruction of his enemies.

This is a book with the structure of a novel (beginning, middle, ending), dramatisation of one or several conflicts, development of a plot. If we accept this definition of “novel”.

It is a romantic tale of revenge.

Teresa, are you calling The Count a romance in the classical sense of the word, a genre going back to the Arthur-Guinevere-Lancelot love story, or, as we learn at school, Chretien de Troyes’s rework of Welsh and Breton tales?

A dictionary definition of "romance" I found on the Internet is:
"a prose narrative treating imaginary characters involved in events remote in time or place and usually heroic, adventurous, or mysterious".

The definition applies to the SFF genre, but not to modern literary fiction, or else it would be, if not SF, at least Fantasy in disguise.

My old Pocket Oxford Dictionary (1945), says:
“medieval tale of chivalry usually written in Romance (the language of old France) and in verse; tale with scenes & incidents remote from ordinary life, this class of literature…”

To add further complication, in French any novel is called “roman”, and in Italian, “romanzo”, which comes directly from the first part (the chivalry tale) of the last definition.

But I think the debate here is about books that have the structure of a novel, regardless of their theme, and other books (Ulysses and its stream of consciousness?) that are more centred on the characters’ inner adventures, if I may say so.
 
Oh no, I wasn't calling The Count of Monte Cristo a romance; I was simply speculating that there must be those in the literary establishment who regard it as such, in the sense of some of the events being too improbable, and the Count himself being altogether too mysterious for real life. Also because even though the first parts of the story give many glimpses into Danté's inner life, the mind of the character who emerges later as the Count of Monte Cristo becomes less and less accessible to the reader.

(I am aware that Dumas based his book on a real-life story; still, the embellishments are fantastical.)

I agree with you that fantasy is less likely than other genres to focus on the characters' inner lives. And I would add that even when it does, it's likely to be focussed on what the characters are feeling and thinking in the moment. There are few reflections on the past; there are few thoughts that don't center on the matter at hand.

But I think that, as a general tendency (and of course there are exceptions on both sides), female SFF writers reveal more of their character's thoughts and emotions than the men do. Or at least I have found this so.

I will also say that fantasy tales frequently sweep their characters up in such events that they have little opportunity for reflection. Individuals are therefore more likely to reveal themselves through their actions and their words than by inner monologue.
 
Giovanna: Yes, I'd certainly include Ulysses as a novel under most definitions, albeit an untraditional (or at least, textually untraditional) one.
 
Giovanna: Yes, I'd certainly include Ulysses as a novel under most definitions, albeit an untraditional (or at least, textually untraditional) one.
Really, j.d.? I've always thought of it as the literary equivalent of Jackson Pollock's "art"......
 
J.D., in this case you should probably include Proust's In Search of Lost Time, which--and I agree on this with what was said before--is not a novel by the definition that was given here. Or is it?
 
Cliches to me is the reason for writer's block..... I often have to rewrite and stop writing because of Cliches. Look at Eragon and you will understand.
 
Dear All,

It seems to me that if you write prose, you have two essential elements to deal with - the plot and the story. The plot is the basic breakdown of what happens (boy meets girl, boy defeats Dark Lord or whatever) and is usually utterly cliched. Many critics and authors have spilt a good deal of ink discussing how many fiction plots there are (somewhere between four and twelve seems to be the conclusion). Whatever the figure, it's small and so it must therefore follow that some sort of cliches are inevitable when deciding on plot.

The story is where books can really come alive. That is where you will find the characterisation, the motivation, the hopes and dreams and all the rest of the emotional kit and caboodle.

I believe that most readers read for story, not plot. Some authors are excellent at story, even to the point of forgetting about plot altogether (Joyce has already been mentioned in this thread, but Tristram Shandy is another fine example of the storyteller's art). Very few cliches there, although the end result can look a bit unstructured or be hard to read.

The problem is that most authors fall into the trap of making their story as cliched as their plot. Fantasy suffers enormously from this - as Teresa says, the stakes are high for the fantasy hero, with the result that any one hero runs the risk of looking like every other - tough, individualistic, streetwise, wise-cracking, deeply honourable, highly moral and rightfully vengeful.

It goes on - dwarves, elves, taverns, swords, magical artefacts, goblins, set piece battles in which the good guys are always outnumbered, beautiful princesses etc etc.

Now all of this is fine, but unless writers have the will to do something different with the form, they are never going to take the laurels worn by Tolkien (quest fantasy) or Rowling (magic fantasy). Both of those authors drew from stuff that was going on before (nothing new under the sun and all that), but both put such a twist on their story that they effectively set a new benchmark.

Now, some people like to read straight genre stuff - whether that be swords and sorcery or Mills and Boon. Good luck to them. Writing that material is a job like any other. But it isn't as creative or perhaps ultimately as satisfying as really working it out for yourself and presenting a genuinely new twist. Difficult with SFF, but we all know that it can be done. The Bloated One's posts in the critiques section of this sub-forum are a good example.

So I suppose my view is that cliches are fine in their place, but the true creative writer should do their best to allow them in plot only.

Regards,

Peter
 
Really, j.d.? I've always thought of it as the literary equivalent of Jackson Pollock's "art"......

Funny thing about Ulysses -- at least where I'm concerned -- is that I'd always been told what an "important" book this is, and how influential it was, etc., etc., etc. So I approached reading it with some trepidation, as most things that have that sort of reputation tend to be a bit tedious, in my experience. And lo and behold, I had a blast! The first section of the book is a bit slow-paced, yes; but you're having the thematic set-up there, and once you have that in place, the rest of the novel (and I'll address whether it is or not, in my opinion, in a moment) proved to be very engaging; and it covered the gamut, from quirky to warm to hilarious to somber to touching, depending. And the title is well chosen, I'd say, as it really is a modern odyssey, with the landscapes more internal than external, a Penelope awaiting her husband's return and fending off those who are to supplant him in her life (her various thoughts showing her battle to maintain something of the emotional attachment despite disillusion, disappointment, grief, anger, a romantic temperament at odds with reality, etc.), and so on.

As for whether this is a novel -- and the Mrs. Brown argument has relevance here, too -- I'd say yes as, though the structure is by no means the conventional one, nor is the development what we'd seen (usually) in literature to that point, nonetheless we are seeing the interaction of characters, the growth and changes involved, a journey of realization not only on the part of one, but several, and an emotionally satisfying resolution (of sorts). It's a very human novel, and the Mrs. Brown argument comes into play because none of the characters are particularly exceptional; they are all very much everyday people; Bloom's very grandiosity in his own thoughts shows how very mundane yet complex he is, being the "hero" of his own odyssey even to the point of some of his thoughts being cast in the heroic mold of the Le Morte d'Arthur and other romances -- such thoughts being very much at odds with the pedestrian level at which he thinks... yet he does have a dash or two of the chivalrous to him, nonetheless (think of the episode with the hare-lipped girl, which veers from the erotic to the deeply compassionate and moving). It has all the earmarks of a novel, even if unconventional in style and (apparent, rather than genuine, as the genuine structure of the novel is, I'd say, extremely controlled) structure.

As for the difference between plot and story and plot elements being cliché... while there is some truth to that, I'd say it is also taking the argument to an extreme level. For one thing, there are X number of basic plots -- the variations on those plots (whether mixtures of elements from different ones, alterations in the approach, etc.) makes the actual number of available plots considerably more. When one takes it to the level given, we're dealing with the sort of thing that reduces Moby-Dick to "a story about a really big fish". And once again, we're back to dealing with archetypes here, rather than clichés, in both the storytelling and the psychological senses of the term. Reducing plot to that level ignores what individual writers bring to a plot, the things that aren't yet story, but are still concerned with the development of plot elements (and plots) themselves. Complete originality, indeed, is impossible; but if a writer brings something of himself or herself to their work -- something of their own unique experience and perspective, something of what they've learned in their journey through life -- then clichés tend to be avoided, because they aren't simply "what's been done before", but a shared experience as seen through a unique individual's eyes.
 
Hi J.D.

When one takes it to the level given, we're dealing with the sort of thing that reduces Moby-Dick to "a story about a really big fish". And once again, we're back to dealing with archetypes here, rather than clichés, in both the storytelling and the psychological senses of the term.

Fair point, but to play Devil's Advocate, I'd say that Moby Dick isn't "a story about a really big fish". It's a story about "Man tries to rationalise and control the natural world and fails." As such, it shares more with Frankenstein than with Finding Nemo, although in all fairness Nemo appears to be a relatively small fish.

Strangely enough, I think that Moby Dick shares an awful lot with that other big fish classic - Jaws. Many of the same themes emerge - the obsessed hunter (Quint), the everyman (Brodie), the confinement at sea, the New England setting, the battle between the hunter and his shipmates. Ultimately, it's about the same thing - the failed attempt to control the natural world. In the book on which the film was based, Quint is dragged down by the shark, all wrapped up in cables and lines in a scene highly reminiscent of the dead Ahab waving at Ishmael from the side of the whale. It is also far from certain that the shark dies - the book ends with Brodie trying to swim for shore and we never know if he makes it.

I think the test as to when an archetype becomes a cliche is rather subjective. But I'm not sure it takes much away from my original point. The really big fish in Moby Dick (and Jaws) is part of the story rather than the plot. Captain Ahab, the endless descriptive passages about Nantucket whaling boats and all the rest of it is also all part of the story, rather than the plot. And it's a jolly good story, too.

Reducing plot to that level ignores what individual writers bring to a plot, the things that aren't yet story, but are still concerned with the development of plot elements (and plots) themselves.

True, but boiling down the plot to a line or two does help to concentrate the mind and underline the importance of story to bring the plot alive. And, in most genre fiction, you can't dispute that the twists to basic plot are often fairly minor. The good guys usually win. The girl and boy usually get together. The Dark Lord is usually destoyed. The crime is usually solved. Of course, there are authors who break the mould completely, but I suspect that they are in the minority when compared to authors who tinker around a bit at the edges. And there's nothing wrong with that - after all, it is in the story where the author gets to give free rein to their creative impulses.

Regards,

Peter
 
Saying that there are only a small number of plots is similar to saying that there are only twelve notes in the chromatic scale in Western music. It may help those that like to place items in pigeonholes (e.g. "this is a symphony in D minor" or "this is a quest"), but it more than misses the point of the creative process, which is to treat what is to hand as a resource, to be used or to be reacted against.
 
Hi UM

Saying that there are only a small number of plots is similar to saying that there are only twelve notes in the chromatic scale in Western music.

Absolutely. It's exactly the same thing.


It may help those that like to place items in pigeonholes (e.g. "this is a symphony in D minor" or "this is a quest"), but it more than misses the point of the creative process, which is to treat what is to hand as a resource, to be used or to be reacted against.

I couldn't agree more. But that is the point - ultimately, whether you are writing symphonies or pop songs, you are likely to be using the chromatic scale. The notes are the foundation to the creative musical process in just the same way that the plot is the foundation to the novel. You have to understand, or at least be aware of, the chromatic scale before you can play around with the form.

Take the novice rock guitar player. It's a Les Paul to a kazoo that the first thing he or she will try to do is play a few basic songs, all of which use the same basic blues scale and the same basic "three chord trick" structure. Add in the relative minor as a fourth chord and you can play something like 80% of all rock and pop songs. Many bands make it big without ever going much beyond that. They are the equivalent of the writer who sticks closely to the mores of the genre in which they are writing.

It doesn't necessarily make for bad music or bad writing, because in every case the band/writer are putting their own frills and twists on the foundations - to use your words, they are using the resource as a springboard for their creative endeavours. But, at the end of the day, they are staying well within their comfort zone and it is inevitable that cliches/archetypes will arise (the middle eight, the guitar solo, the repeated chorus etc etc). Bands frequently don't try to break out beyond that, so life becomes an endless attempt to keep things fresh by making relatively small changes to what is increasingly a well-worn path of chord progressions and song structure. They add in string quartets and acoustic ballads on those difficult third albums, but that is about it.

I think what I'm trying to say is that the SFF genre suffers quite badly from a lack of genuine creative thinking when it comes to story, probably because the basic SFF plots are such strong and dominating drivers to the action. There are always exceptions, of course, but the bulk of the material is very much variations on a theme, with creativity all too often limited to the flourishes and the window dressing.

Regards,

Peter
 
Actually, two authors can sit down to tell the same story, and they can come up with very, very dissimilar results.

You can see this in anthologies and collections where the authors are rewriting stories as familiar as classic fairy tales. In Tanith Lee's Red as Blood: Tales from the Sisters Grimmer, she puts a decidedly sinister spin on the Cinderella story. It's the same plot and the same characters and some of the same details as some of the traditional versions, but the reinterpretation and the new perspective of "When the Clock Strikes" make for a radical departure from the originals. It's the same throughout the Tor Fairy Tale series edited by Terri Windling, and the Windling/Datlow Anthologies, starting with Snow White, Blood Red: they begin with familiar stories, but the results are far from cliché. Even a single author can visit a story twice and come up with two substantially different interpretations. In Angela Carter's collection The Bloody Chamber, two of the stories are based on "Beauty and the Beast." Robin McKinley has novelized that story at different times in her life, and while the first Beauty is just a charming retelling and filling-out of the original story, Rose Daughter is so different in its approach you probably wouldn't guess it was written by the same author if you didn't already know. Returning to Tanith Lee, you have a science-fictional approach, where the Beast is an alien (I can't call the title to mind), and I think she has written another version of the story for the Windling/Datlow anthologies.

Other authors do the same kind of thing with Shakespeare: in Weird Tales from Shakespeare, edited by Katharine Kerr, or Caliban's Hour, by Tad Williams, or (yes, yes, I do have a lot of books by Tanith Lee on my bookshelf) Lee's reinterpretation of "Romeo and Juliet," Sung in Shadow.

Then you have Gregory Maguire, who takes on the Brothers Grimm and Charles Perrault and L. Frank Baum, all of whom are probably spinning in their graves whenever he sits down at the keyboard.
 
I couldn't agree more. But that is the point - ultimately, whether you are writing symphonies or pop songs, you are likely to be using the chromatic scale. The notes are the foundation to the creative musical process in just the same way that the plot is the foundation to the novel. You have to understand, or at least be aware of, the chromatic scale before you can play around with the form.

As usual, I did not make myself clear as I would have liked. Let me try again.

There are rules that ought to be followed (or consciously fought against); there are other rules used by those that like to put things in pigeonholes (or, if you like, genres).

While it is true that we all need to know a few basics, I think we can overdo the analysis of what a work is.

There have been people who have written tunes, that we may all know, who have had little or no idea of what the chromatic scale means, other than they have heard some of the notes or have had access to a keyboard or other tuned instrument (the rules, in the latter two cases, having been encoded into the instrument).

In the same way, many stories have been written that take little or no account of any particular named plot formulation; the authors write something that some critic or academic describes afterwards as, say, a Quest.

Being the type of person who likes to catagorise things, I am well aware of the joys of cataloguing; I have learnt, however, that this is an entirely different activity to the creation of that which I like, saddo that I am, to catalogue.
 
There have been people who have written tunes, that we may all know, who have had little or no idea of what the chromatic scale means, other than they have heard some of the notes or have had access to a keyboard or other tuned instrument (the rules, in the latter two cases, having been encoded into the instrument).

I agree, but it's a pity not to know the Napolitain or Arabian scales. It's a fun to mix old scales into hybrid ones.

One should do that with clichés as well. A good author will use them (because he knows the various treatments they have received), and transcend them (because he can).
 
I believe that most readers read for story, not plot.

Well exactly. I'm sure everyone here could boil the classics down to a basic plot and pick it full of holes / show how similar they are/ highlight the cliches. How it's written is the most enjoyable part of reading ( for me anyway - plot needs to be good, but isn't the main point afaic)

For instance, you have the famous *short version* of LOTR - why didn't they get the eagles to drop the ring in the volcano? Or a hundred other things in the plot that make little sense.

Or both LOrd Valentines Castle and The Bourne Identity - essentially the same plot - man with amnesia struggles to find out who he is. Same plot, vastly different stories.There are probably a hundred, a thousand other books with the same plot.

But that isn't the point of reading ( for me at least). The point is in the enjoyment of the journey, not the arrival at your destination.
 

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