I read with interest Megan Whalen Turner’s recent blog post about not revealing anything to her fans when they ask questions about her insanely beloved Queen’s Thief series.
“I said that it felt like cheating, to me, to try to add an explanation to something I’ve already written. I got my chance to write what I wanted to write. If I didn’t do it well enough for my readers to understand what I was trying to say, it’s not fair for me to try to take a second shot. When it comes to talking about what I am writing next, I told people that I think it’s teasing to drop hints about a book… for five years at a time. If I wrote books a little faster, I might be a little more willing to talk about what’s in them ahead of time. But I don’t, so I won’t.”
Boy, do I admire her restraint. I don’t think I can do that.
Early in my career, a book club chose my book to read, and they invited me to their house to discuss it. In the grand tradition of crappy middle school English teachers who seek to extinguish all pleasure in reading (“Please list the meanings of the following symbols found in the short story you were assigned”), the most common question I got was, “What did you mean when you put XYZ in the story?”
I was a literature major at college. I’d studied New Criticism, in which we’d learned that the book must be it’s own thing, separate from what they called “the intentional fallacy” — i.e., what the author meant. All that stupid stuff from middle school about deciding that X symbol meant only Y and nothing else? Poppycock. The book meant what you decided it to mean.
At least, that’s what I’d learned.
I tried to do the whole Mona-Lisa-smile, “What did you think it meant?” thing — no dice. The book club members were extremely frustrated. They had not invited me to the house and fed me dinner only to get non-answers out of me. They had the author, in their midst, a luxury afforded to few readers. And dammit, they wanted answers.
It changed my thinking significantly. Yes, I do a disservice to readers if I have this expectation that they can only understand what I’m doing if I’m standing over their shoulder. The book must be able to stand on its own, because only a miniscule percentage of reaers are going to get tot eh point where they track an author down and ask. But if they have — if they’ve bothered to invite you to their house and feed you pasta and iced tea, or if they’ve dragged themselves to a booksigning or festival for the sole purpose of meeting you and asking — if they want to know — shouldn’t you play along and tell them?
I decided to play along. I created “spoiler threads” on my website upon book releases, where readers could go and discuss the book and ask questions. I answered them.
But the ease of the internet has made the pendulum start swinging the other way for me. It’s one thing if I verbally tell a group of people in a book club something. It’s very much another if I start answering questions, in writing, of every person who fills out a contact form on my website.
Once, I got an email from a reader with over a hundred questions in it. This reader wanted to know absolutely every plot trail of every character and every feeling that every character had throughout the entire book. She wanted confirmation of things that I hoped were obvious. Stuff the equivalent of:
- After Mr. Darcy was so sweet to Elizabeth and her relatives when he met them at Pemberley, THAT’S when she decided that maybe he wasn’t the asshole she thought, right?
- Was Lydia ever jealous of Lizzie when Wickham was paying her attention at Meryton?
- How long after they got married did Darcy and Lizzie have a kid?
And so forth. These are questions that fans want to know. Entire industries have been created in fanfiction (both the free kind and the stuff that makes money — like all those Jane Austen sequels) to answer these sorts of questions. Indeed, I’m partial to that kind of stuff myself. My favorite scene in the 2007 remake of Persuasion is the scene in Lyme where Captains Wentworth and Harville discuss the trouble Wentworth has gotten himself in by flirting with Louisa Musgrove. You always know there’s a scene where his friends are like, “Look, you moron, her whole family thinks you’re getting married, so if you’d better check yourself before you wreck yourself.” It was nice to see it performed.
But Jane Austen is dead. We’re all just fans making it up as we go along. That’s different.
For what it’s worth, I wrote the reader back and told her to pick five of her most burning questions.
I have also seen the intent to stay “true” to the author’s vision, based upon something they wrote, backfire enormously. The case in point is the new “ordering” of C.S. Lewis’s Narnia books. Now, children are introduced to the series NOT through The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, but through a prequel, written many years later, and written, (in my opinion as a published Narnia scholar
) in a more mature tone and with the expectation that readers are familiar with the world and the stories published thus far. However, one time, Lewis wrote a response to an eleven year old child in which he says he agrees with the child’s contention that the books should be read in chronological (not publication) order, and now, that’s how they publish them.
But upon reading the actual letter, I find that conclusion appalling. These are Lewis’s words:
“I think I agree with your order [chronologically] for reading the books more than with your mother’s [order of publication]. The series was not planned beforehand as she thinks. When I wrote The Lion I did not know I was going to write any more. Then I wrote P. Caspian as a sequel and still didn’t think there would be any more, and when I had done The Voyage I felt quite sure it would be the last. But I found I was wrong. So perhaps it does not matter very much in which order anyone reads them.”
See? It’s doesn’t matter! Great! Let’s not fix what ain’t broken! I know that I, for one, will not be giving my daughter The Magician’s Nephew before TLTWaTW.If this is what Lewis really thought (and he doesn’t sound so sure himself, even in the letter) then he was wrong.
And maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s fine to answer reader’s questions — but it’s not fine for the reader to treat the author’s intent as gospel. They have to make their own decisions, because even though it’s the author’s book, the author might not know everything. And when it leaves their hands, it takes on a life of its own.






There are even people who go to conferences and pitch an IDEA, thinking if the agent is interested they can go home and knock the book out in six weeks. Agents do NOT want to hear that for fiction.







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