ROOM, point of view and emotional intensity
I read the book ROOM this weekend. For those that aren't familiar it's the story of Jack, a five year old boy who has spent his entire life with his Ma, in a 12 by 12 foot garden shed, kept prisoner by his mother's kidnapper and rapist.
Everyone who'd read this book says it's uplifting and as I typed that sentence above I'm amazed yet again by how uplifting it truly was. And at the same time what was terrifying and sad about the book - which for the most part is inferred, or revealed sideways or happens to some extent off page - has taken over my life for the last twenty-four hours. And the tool the incredible author uses to create the uplifting and the terrifying is the same damn tool - POV.
Jack loves his mom. This is the only world he's ever known, she has chosen not to tell him that there is an outside. He is content. Happy. We get page long descriptions of how and why he loves Dora The Explorer. (Something Ma uses when it's time to make their escape - effing brilliant.)
So, the world is dramatic but the emotion and drama are dialed down because our POV character is really so happy, but that made the moments that were dramatic - the escape and a few others I don't want to spoil - so terrifying I had to skim them. But because there's this whole other story - Ma's - hinted at, and revealed in parts by Jack, my imagination has been going crazy putting together those pieces, imagining her story.
I remember something Laura Kinsale said about taking the emotions out of the big emotional scenes - and I so agree with this (but can never seem to do it, because I'm a more is more kind of writer) if you've done your job those big scenes, the big heartbreaks - they're there without any words and a lot of times that's more effective than bashing a reader over the head.
Head on emotional writing feels old to me right now, I'm a little tired of finding other words for 'pain.' But showing the big emotional scenes through the corner of a character's eyes, on the fringes, there but secondary and sometimes so totally opposite to the day to day reality of that character - also an amazing way to play it.
Everyone who'd read this book says it's uplifting and as I typed that sentence above I'm amazed yet again by how uplifting it truly was. And at the same time what was terrifying and sad about the book - which for the most part is inferred, or revealed sideways or happens to some extent off page - has taken over my life for the last twenty-four hours. And the tool the incredible author uses to create the uplifting and the terrifying is the same damn tool - POV.
Jack loves his mom. This is the only world he's ever known, she has chosen not to tell him that there is an outside. He is content. Happy. We get page long descriptions of how and why he loves Dora The Explorer. (Something Ma uses when it's time to make their escape - effing brilliant.)
So, the world is dramatic but the emotion and drama are dialed down because our POV character is really so happy, but that made the moments that were dramatic - the escape and a few others I don't want to spoil - so terrifying I had to skim them. But because there's this whole other story - Ma's - hinted at, and revealed in parts by Jack, my imagination has been going crazy putting together those pieces, imagining her story.
I remember something Laura Kinsale said about taking the emotions out of the big emotional scenes - and I so agree with this (but can never seem to do it, because I'm a more is more kind of writer) if you've done your job those big scenes, the big heartbreaks - they're there without any words and a lot of times that's more effective than bashing a reader over the head.
Head on emotional writing feels old to me right now, I'm a little tired of finding other words for 'pain.' But showing the big emotional scenes through the corner of a character's eyes, on the fringes, there but secondary and sometimes so totally opposite to the day to day reality of that character - also an amazing way to play it.
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