Deus ex Machina, or the Stupid Solution

I just finished another Pride and Prejudice knock-off. After my last experience with Regina Jeffers' awful book (bashed in a previous blog entry), I was reluctant to try another one, but I checked out Mr. Darcy, Vampyre from the library anyway.

Let me say, first, that it was a FAR better book than Jeffers'. Her level of plagiarism and horrid grammar made me gag for two days straight. This book was far more original, and began with the wedding, leading through to Elizabeth's final discovery that her husband was a vampyre.

What I hated--and I mean hated--was the end. Instead of resolving the problems the book accumulated through some known means, Amanda Grange (the author) pulled a rabbit out of a hat, inventing in the last 20 pages a solution for all of it.

It isn't just this Deus ex Machina I hate. It's any solution slapped on the end of a plot line because the author(s) cannot think of a fix that is integral to the rest of the book. As I write, perhaps I am better at creating the problem and building the tension than I am at finding the solution. Perhaps the solution only comes as I write, and I don't plan for it. However, once the solution has been found, it is my job as a writer to REVISE with that solution in mind. Grange's book's ending tossed all of the suspense and conflict on its head, essentially wiping it out in simple ways with an invented wash cloth of sorts. It's as if she'd written her characters into such a hole that the only way out was some weird prophecy.

The Sherlock Holmes stories had this problem, offering "solutions" to the mysteries only through cryptic details at the last minute, details none of the readers would ever be able to pick up on, but at least some of the clues were there already. I like it best when a plot contains the solutions, yet I miss them, and the ending is a surprise. Then I can re-read and see all the clues I missed the second time around. That, to me, is satisfying.

Now, here is one place this worked for me, and I'll explain why: At the end of Disney's The Little Mermaid, when Triton sees that his daughter loves Prince Eric, he magically gives her the legs she wanted, and she gets to live happily ever after. One could certainly argue that this last-minute "fix" was a deus ex machina. However, Triton could have done the same magic earlier, except for his prejudice against humans and dry land. It takes his near loss of his daughter and personal witness of Prince Eric's bravery to change his mind. You see, the plot isn't really about Ariel's becoming human, but about her father's acceptance of her choice. And that makes his act all the more potent and meaningful, as well as something we could have seen coming (though I was surprised the first time around).

What about all of you? What endings have struck you wrong? When has an ending seemed forced? When has it fundamentally changed what you thought you were reading?

Not a Haiku

My last haiku was obviously too easy, but I can't say I care. I think I like the sound and shape of it best of the four I've written so far. Yes, it was a pillow, and it seems that many of you find your own is calling to you as clearly as mine has been lately (damn these papers to grade!)

Today, though, I am forced to take a break from all of the sweat-inducing haiku stress (just kidding) to discuss a book I am presently reading--and presently loathing.

I hate to criticize books. I hate that I am still reading this particular one, even though I cannot say I've enjoyed a single page of it. Why am I still reading? Perhaps it is because, 226 pages in, I still hope for what I know is hopeless.

Let me explain: While on my recent Jane Austen kick, I discovered a number of spin-off books dealing with Darcy and various other characters. Frankly, I almost bought several of them outright at a bookstore, but I decided to check out a few from the library first. Good thing I did.

The particular book I am loathing/reading is called Darcy's Passions: Pride and Prejudice Retold through His Eyes. Sounds like a book right down my alley. I've always found the male perspective intriguing--perhaps more so than the female--and I've always adored the original book. It is on a very short list of books I've read more than five times and intend to read again.

The Preface to the book also sounded promising, describing a teacher who had adored Austen's work, and who finally decided to put her love of Austen, her knowledge of the time period, and her writing skill altogether and create this novel. She certainly knows the book, and for the most part, seems to understand the era in which it was written.

The bad part? She can't write.

Okay, yes, Regina Jeffers can write. She can form words and put them together on a page in a somewhat coherent way. But the words are stilted, the dialogue is putridly lacking in anything worth knowing, and in the course of 226 pages so far, she reveals absolutely NOTHING new about any of the characters. Darcy is lame, obtuse, boring, angst-ridden, and highly undesirable. In attempting to "fill in" the scenes which we don't see in the first novel, Jeffers creates vacuous scenes where absolutely nothing happens. She often relates stupid dialogue--"Oh, I see you have come down early for breakfast today." "Yes, I have some business in town."--and then tells us of exchanges between the characters that would actually be more interesting in extremely brief summary, brushing through the elements I've always wondered about. Characters move about the room for no reason, and she hops in and out of everybody's heads, explaining the feelings behind particular comments when the comments (from the original book) speak for themselves.

I won't even get into the grammar, though the dangling modifiers are frequent enough to make me want to tear out my hair. The writing is drivel, unimaginative and stilted, and had I no knowledge of Austen's classic I would have quit reading in the first chapter.

It's just too bad. As with the seasons of Heroes, I find the idea great, but the execution of that idea falls so far from any semblance of true enjoyment that I felt I had to say something. Even so, despite my lack of time, I will probably finish the vile book. Then I'll take it back to the library, thankful, at least, that I didn't pay a dime for it. I hope none of you do, either.

All Things Austen

[Note: For the next few posts--or however long it takes me to come down from my manic high--I'm going to be posting all about the stuff I LOVE... and if you prefer depressing, angst-ridden posts by me, you'll need to scroll down a few days (I have plenty of them to spare, I'm afraid). I'm too happy to be sad right now.]

I, like many women adore Jane Austen. Unlike some, I cannot say I'm a fan of the dresses usually displayed in illustrations and films. Instead, I love the manners, the characters, the walking around fields and other stuff that seems to happen. Vacuous? I beg to differ. I am many things, but not vacuous. Besides, I adore so much related to Austen's books, and I've recently found reasons to adore them even more.

I've long kept my heart Austen-centered, for I watched the original PBS version of Pride and Prejudice when I was in my teens, read the book, and read it again (and again, and again). I read it in graduate school, and realized at that point that the PBS version didn't do the book justice at all.

But then A and E's version came out--you know the one I'm talking about, with Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy. Dreamy, dreamy, dreamy. I taped it all, then bought the VHS set, and a few years ago my brother bought me the 3-CD Special Edition. I've watched it every few months or so ever since the movie came out originally. It is by far the best version ever made. I also adored Gwineth Paltrow as Emma, the best version of that book I've seen. The film adaptation of Mansfield Park actually improved on the book, so I've seen that one several times over, too.

Recently, though, other Austen wonders have come out--not adaptations of the original novels, but new takes on the themes which run through them. PBS presented a delightful if impossible spin on Pride and Prejudice called Lost in Austen, taking the life of a woman fascinated with Colin Firth's Mr. Darcy character and turning it into a romp through the book, changing events in hilarious ways. (Yes, hilarious. Not just cute or quirky. Laugh out loud funny.)

And recently, I've read Shannon Hale's novel Austenland, a more realistic (sort of) exploration of a fictional "resort" for women who love Jane Austen's time period and characters. The resort goers dress in period costume, participate in pastimes of the period (lots of walks and whist), and mingle with paid actors who pretend to be "types" from the books. Several of my friends read the book as well, and we all wonder whether such a place exists. (It doesn't, at least not that I know of. Yes, I looked.)

So, there it is. And since many of my readers are men, don't think you'll be left out in future posts, for I have many other things I love to discuss. Besides, you could learn a lot from Mr. Darcy.