Bruce Beckham's Blog - Posts Tagged "poirot"
The back-story - strictly for viewers?
I’m fairly sure that if I were writing a TV detective series the back-story would be de rigueur. Not only must the cop catch all the crooks, but he or she must cop off, too (whether it be with their partner in solving crime, the victim they have risked life and limb to save, or even the master criminal with whom they have traded blows). And it will probably end in tears.
But for books – I’m not so sure.
There are various pitfalls of the back-story, not least the risk that it becomes the front-story. Since whodunits don’t really work on TV, there has to be some easy underlying drama to sustain the viewer’s interest. Lazing on the sofa, it soon becomes all-consuming.
Nonetheless, I constantly anguish over how much back-story there should be in my books. Then I lean for support and reassurance on the great Agatha Christie. For her, ‘The Mystery’ was pre-eminent, all else – despite the immense fame of her detectives – was subsidiary.
Frankly I’m quite entertained by how little I know about Hercule Poirot. One can go through an entire novel and learn no more than he has a massive ego, smokes tiny cigarettes and harbours a penchant for syrop de cassis.
And even Ms Christie perhaps regretted giving him what little back-story she did.
Of course, she can’t have known when she wrote the first ‘Poirot’ in 1920 that she would call upon his services for the next 55 years – but it was a lack of foresight which had those poor little grey cells toiling well into their nineties!
But for books – I’m not so sure.
There are various pitfalls of the back-story, not least the risk that it becomes the front-story. Since whodunits don’t really work on TV, there has to be some easy underlying drama to sustain the viewer’s interest. Lazing on the sofa, it soon becomes all-consuming.
Nonetheless, I constantly anguish over how much back-story there should be in my books. Then I lean for support and reassurance on the great Agatha Christie. For her, ‘The Mystery’ was pre-eminent, all else – despite the immense fame of her detectives – was subsidiary.
Frankly I’m quite entertained by how little I know about Hercule Poirot. One can go through an entire novel and learn no more than he has a massive ego, smokes tiny cigarettes and harbours a penchant for syrop de cassis.
And even Ms Christie perhaps regretted giving him what little back-story she did.
Of course, she can’t have known when she wrote the first ‘Poirot’ in 1920 that she would call upon his services for the next 55 years – but it was a lack of foresight which had those poor little grey cells toiling well into their nineties!
Still game
In her autobiography Agatha Christie rued that she had started with Hercule Poirot “so old” – and indeed by the time of his last appearance his age has been estimated at 125!
Ian Rankin encountered similar problems with Rebus, who became too old to be a serving policeman and, eventually, too old to be credible... and so the author slowed down his ageing!
Colin Dexter was a little more judicious in his handling of Morse – but the erudite inspector became so closely associated with the actor John Thaw (whose ageing could not be curtailed) that similar problems arose.
Thankfully, a more enlightened approach has gained traction, as exemplified by Sherlock – after all, why would a fictional character need to age at all? Nobody seems to struggle with Dr Who and his/her continual rejuvenation.
The corollary, however, is some sacrifice of the so-called ‘back story’. If the great protagonist is trapped in a time warp, where will he or she find space to socialise and beyond? It means the pendulum swings towards the ‘series’ rather than the ‘serial’. But at least it avoids the bizarre phenomenon encountered in those eternal soap operas, where deceased characters are resurrected, requiring a suspension of disbelief of an entirely higher order.
Of course, no author really knows for how long they might champion their hero – but it seems from the above case studies to err on the side of caution would be good advice. And the ‘Sherlock’ method has inherent appeal to any writer who is in denial of their own ageing!
Ian Rankin encountered similar problems with Rebus, who became too old to be a serving policeman and, eventually, too old to be credible... and so the author slowed down his ageing!
Colin Dexter was a little more judicious in his handling of Morse – but the erudite inspector became so closely associated with the actor John Thaw (whose ageing could not be curtailed) that similar problems arose.
Thankfully, a more enlightened approach has gained traction, as exemplified by Sherlock – after all, why would a fictional character need to age at all? Nobody seems to struggle with Dr Who and his/her continual rejuvenation.
The corollary, however, is some sacrifice of the so-called ‘back story’. If the great protagonist is trapped in a time warp, where will he or she find space to socialise and beyond? It means the pendulum swings towards the ‘series’ rather than the ‘serial’. But at least it avoids the bizarre phenomenon encountered in those eternal soap operas, where deceased characters are resurrected, requiring a suspension of disbelief of an entirely higher order.
Of course, no author really knows for how long they might champion their hero – but it seems from the above case studies to err on the side of caution would be good advice. And the ‘Sherlock’ method has inherent appeal to any writer who is in denial of their own ageing!
