What does it mean when we say that a book has heart or when we say that it doesn’t? I’ve been reading a lot lately and the heart-o-meter has been all over the board. A lot, none at all, there in the beginning but lost at the end. Heart is somewhat like that famous quote from Justice Potter Stewart about hard-core porn: “I know it when I see it.” When it comes to heart, it’s “I feel when it isn’t there.”
I read to get lost in a different world, to meet interesting people, to love them and/or hate them. Heart is required or the magic doesn’t work. I have to root for somebody. It doesn’t have to be the main character. Very often it isn’t: Sam rather than Frodo, Clete Purcell rather than Dave Robicheaux. The star protagonists tend to be too busy, too preoccupied with the stakes to show the frailties that a good, solid, yet a tad mushy, heart requires. In extreme cases, the family pet will do. Don’t object by throwing Cujo at me, you’re only making my point. The Saint Bernard is a good dog, rabies made him do it. Even in the deepest pit of horror, you still remember the gentle giant of the beginning. That is heart in its purest form.
Let’s not confuse heart with ❤️. Hugs, kisses, rolls between the sheets, and transports of passion have nothing to do with what I’m talking about. You can have a lot of heavy breathing without a single heartbeat and soppy love stories that miss the mark with a splat. On the other hand, I’ve read edge-of-your-seat thrillers that have plenty of it. Making the reader care is the key ingredient in the secret sauce.
Every writer knows that…
And yet.
I said at the beginning of this post that some of the books I read recently had their heart-o-meter stuck at the very bottom. I find that disturbing because it may be a trend, and it’s bad news. Especially for my genre of choice: mystery, crime, noir. By definition these are stories where people get hurt. Where there’s crime, there’s violence. The ugly warts of humanity are exposed. Without empathy for the protagonists, the story can turn into an extended police report, an indifferent catalog of atrocities, even, at the extreme, an exercise in sadism.
The subject of the book doesn’t matter, be it a village conspiracy involving the wrong mushrooms or a haunting trip down junkie hell. It doesn’t matter how well the book is written either. You can write beautifully about despicable individuals doing horrendous things; you can also write horribly about admirable people doing good deeds … both with or without heart.
I’ve seen too much frigid writing these past weeks. The disembodied protagonists. The detached characters. People as crude outlines, caricatures of villainy, avatars in a video game.
And I wonder why there’s so much of that stuff around these days.
Why. Why. Pondering…
The industry - Thousands of books published every year. New writers popping up every day. The hard bottom line. If a book sells, the momentum has to be exploited. Could the next release, and the next one after that have been written in a hurry, with a simple wham-bam story line? And there’s the motto: Raise the stakes!
The entertainment complex - Explosion movies are stupid. They still make a pile at the box-office. Minimal character development, storyline geared toward the final showdown. Writers are cultural animals of the sponge variety. So many stories are told this way: plot and action, mayhem and misdeeds. It doesn’t leave much room for emotional depth.
The tropes - The booze-guzzling PI. La femme fatale. The bat-wielding leg-breaking mob enforcer. The corrupt cop/mayor/banker. The cartel thug. The kid out-of-his/her-depth. The blabbering bartender. The junkie CI. Characters that come as fully outfitted as Athena out of Zeus’s head. Shortcuts are tempting. And there’s that plot burning gasoline while the writer is trying to figure out a scene in the schoolyard …
Gotta be tough - This one is tricky. When does drama become melodrama, when does writing with empathy for the characters turn into an insufferable tearjerker? The balance is subtle. When does it come too close to the writer’s own heart for comfort? It’s simpler and safer to take a step back, and if the writing comes out cold, so be it, it’s a killer plot after all, and as long as the reader keeps turning the pages ...
Gotta be hip - Feelings are over-rated, this is post-post-modern word slinging. Let’s strip it down to basics. Style and form. Except, I think this has been done already, like mid-century, the past one?
A.I. is already here and getting published - Kidding. I’m kidding, right?
I’m guessing it’s none of these or all of these. And maybe I had a touch of bad luck in my book choices. Plenty of options on the To-Be-Read pile.
Short Stories
Here’s a piece of West Texas Noir for your enjoyment. Texas Two-Step was published by Close to the Bone, a little while ago. Two brothers, in the desert, waiting to make a deal. There will be trouble, of course (free to read).
What I’m reading
The Devil Himself by Peter Farris. Southern Noir is a thriving sub-category of crime fiction. This is an addictive and beautifully-written story that shows what a talented writer can do with the conventions of the genre. A girl running from the sex traffickers that have condemned her to death for knowing too much finds refuge with an elderly loner. He does much more than giving her shelter. It looks deceptively simple described like that. This issue of the newsletter is all about heart, and Peter Farris knows what that means. A 5-stars recommendation, and only because 5 is the maximum allowed.
A musical discovery – The Black Lillies
A fitting soundtrack for Peter Farris’s book, even if The Black Lillies are from Tennessee, and not Georgia. Here is Earthquake.
I second your endorsement of The Devil Himself--terrific story!
Really interesting issue. I hadn't really thought in these terms before, but you're right. You only notice the heart when it isn't there. I'd much rather read books where the writing isn't perfect, but they've got heart and soul. An author's passion for her subject always shines through.