Worldbuilding Matters

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Contrary to how it may seem in this blog, I do not have super-high expectations as a reader. Not every novel has to provide astounding dialogue, heartstring-tugging characters, pulse-pounding plot, and intensely profound revelations. Nope, I’m legit fine with a fun and engaging storyline, at least two-dimensional characters, and believable conversations. If you add in a few moments provoking genuine laughter and tears, even better. But since I read mostly for enjoyment, not every single title I select has to be Pulitzer Prize worthy.

This does not mean I don’t have standards, though. And my standards aren’t aiming for the moon; however, they are rather set in stone — and, quite frankly, far more reasonable than, it appears, many authors can handle.

One of the cornerstones for me is solid worldbuilding. Again, it doesn’t have to be a masterpiece; just reliable. There needs to be a trustworthy framework to which I can refer back when wondering why a character develops a certain motivation, or if I’m unsure where this city is in relation to another. And, despite this not being rocket science — isn’t it covered in every Creative Writing 101 class? — worldbuilding is an element I find distinctly lacking in most current publications.

For example, I couldn’t finish The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue because there simply wasn’t enough context around the premise to fully draw me in. The plot and characters seemed to exist outside of any rules that governed their universe — and when you’re talking a story of Faustian bargains and space-time-bending curses, rules are important. And The Humans — the 3rd novel by Matt Haig I’ve tried and flopped with — made absolutely no sense within the first 20 pages; I can’t be expected to accept that aliens who can travel at light-speed are unaware Earth folks like to wear clothes in public.

My most disappointing latest is The House on the Cerulean Sea, which I had only heard glowing praise of, but which made me want to cry (in a bad way) before the halfway mark. For one thing, its main character is completely maudlin, to the point of being actually depressing, and this is hardly what I’d call a “comforting” or “inspiring” read (as some of the reviews claimed). Another — and major reason — there isn’t a whit of credibility in the premise. Children who possess magical abilities are just taken from their parents, or rejected by their families, and become wards of the state in group homes where they may or may not be treated decently, and as long as they don’t blow up the planet no one really cares??? This idea disturbs me deeply. Even if some people would hand over their children in such a scenario, many simply would NOT, and anyone who doesn’t believe this clearly knows nothing about human nature. Also, there’s no indication presented that a precedent was set prior to the start of the story for the government to determine all of these children were dangerous. So even that thread doesn’t have much to stand on.

In the spring, I read The Lunar Chronicles, and found that to be a good example of having a solid world to set foot in as a reader. The setting isn’t “just a dystopian future”; there are actual discussions about which war it was and some references to specific events. Main characters know the relevance and importance of the history, and even when backstory is provided through exposition, the conversations flow pretty naturally, and don’t seem constructed purely as a way of info-dumping on the reader. There were some flaws, and a few things where I felt the author could’ve either let something go or tied two elements together a little tighter. But these books were FUN, and I don’t regret the time I spent with them.

And sadly, that’s become rare for me.

So, what is the deal with slipshoddy worldbuilding recently? Honestly, I’m not entirely sure why editors and publishers have decided it’s all right to let their authors slide on one of the most basic essentials for good writing. My first guess is that releasing books in a timely manner can become an issue — mostly because editing and re-writing does require brainpower and often more than 30 seconds — and in the interest of keeping business going (meaning printing and actually selling books), maybe publishers don’t necessarily care if each story is the best version of itself, as long as it’s good enough copies. Yes, that’s a slightly cynical view; but the field of literature has definitely turned into an industry, and the primary goal of any industry is to produce profit or whatever keeps it afloat.

The difference, many people who love literature feel, between something like reading as an industry, and other retail businesses, is in the core of what the field’s meant to be. Literature has been used as everything from a passing hobby to change the world by sharing all manner of religious, political, and philosophical thought. There’s nothing wrong with reading just for relaxation and escape; reading to enrich your mind and broaden your knowledge base is also excellent.

But literature has set the bar pretty high, and is held to a different standard than, say, mountain biking as a technique for bettering oneself and exploring the world.

When the publishing industry itself starts lowering the bar, I get concerned.

So, while your fictional worldbuilding does not have to be amazing, can we please try at least a bit harder?