Scott and Grisham

I've finally finished N.T. Wright's Resurrection of the Son of God, and I think it's time for a respite from theology in my personal reading. My last novels were Scott's Antiquary and a Grisham novel (The Brethren), about which I jotted some notes. J has mentioned several times how easily and eagerly she reads Grisham, and in frustration is put to sleep or indifference by the style of the 19th century English novel. (With some notable exceptions, including most Jane Austen.) I see, by the way, no reason to have chosen these two particular authors as contrasts aside from their being the two most recent I've read. As far as I know, the point could be better illustrated by contrasting Dickens and Chrichton, or Thackeray and Cussler. The point is, there is a very obvious common style in the 21st century novel that always looks something like this:

The smiles were rare for Benny these days. He was certain Patrick had told what he knew, and it wasn't enough. Patrick knew he would someday get caught; that's why he shrewdly placed the money with the girl, who then hid it from everyone, including Patrick. Brilliant. Nothing short of it.
"What will it take to find her?" he asked Stephano, as the two lunched on soup sent up by room service. The question had been asked many times already. "What, or how much?" "How much, I guess."

And the 19th century novel invariably contains a passage like this:
"Front-de-Boeuf," replied John, "is a man more willing to swallow three manors such as Ivanhoe than to disgorge one of them. For the rest, sirs, I hope none here will deny my right to confer the crown upon the faithful followers who are around me, and ready to perform the usual military service, in the room of those who have wandered to foreign countries, and can neither render homage nor service when called upon." The audience were too much interested in the question not to pronounce the Prince's assumed right altogether indubitable. "A generous Prince! a most noble Lord, who thus takes upon himself the task of rewarding his faithful followers."


The principal differences are not, as is often imagined, related to a more sophisticated vocabulary in the latter, or a lack of literary skill in the former. The main difference is how imageable the the first passage is, and even when read aloud, how hidden from the inner eye the second. Without knowing anything of the story, of the characters, or the tone of voice, I could imagine the Grisham passage taking place on a television screen. The passage from Ivanhoe (chosen, like the Grisham, completely at random) is, after some analysis, able to be understood, but only able to be translated onto a television screen with some effort. Scott is talking principally about ideas in his passage, specifically ideas of vassalage and sovereignty. These ideas do not translate to a television screen particularly well.

The point is that the modern author does not start with a blank literary slate. Even if a child were kept completely away from television (and let us add computers for good measure), he would still encounter screen culture on billboards, in magazines, on the radio, through the conversation of screen-cultured people, and of course, through books written in a screen culture age. This is not by any means a purely bad thing. When I read a Grisham novel I'm amazed at how quickly my mind fills in the details of an atmosphere so dimly lit; judging by his sales numbers, many others have the same experience. Despite page after page of nothing but the starkest dialogue, I always end the book with a clear picture of "how it would have looked." The television mind is nothing if not creative visually.

It takes effort and discipline, however, to be able to read Walter Scott and to make sense of prose that deals primarily with ideas; prose which uses atmosphere in an non-participatory manner, and in which its imageability is a secondary concern if considered at all. I believe, just as we ought to finish our plate to be kind to our guests, we ought to read everything the author wrote (in as close a meaning to his as we can make) out of common courtesy; but if it can't be done, it's probably fine to allow some skimming while one works up the endurance, so long as it's to enjoy the story. If you find yourself reading novels without any concern for the story, though, stop right away. You're in danger of being turned into an ass.