Readers up close and much too personal

Alexander McCall Smith April 18, 2009
Article from: The Australian

A FEW weeks ago, on a book tour of Australia, I found myself signing books in Sydney.
As the line of readers moved, two young women presented copies of books for signature. These books were from a Scottish series I write, one featuring a heroine called Isabel Dalhousie. Isabel, who is in her early 40s, has a boyfriend considerably younger than she is -- by 14 years, in fact.
As I signed their books, one of the women mentioned that she thought that this relationship between Isabel and Jamie, the younger man, was not a good idea at all.

I defended Isabel's choice. "Why shouldn't they be together?"
The answer came quickly. "Because it's not going to go anywhere."
"But I thought it was going rather well," Iprotested.
Again my reader lost no time in replying. "No, it isn't," she said emphatically.

That was me put in my place. After all, I was merely the author. As it happens, Isabel's relationship with Jamie had not been my idea in the first place but had come about because at an earlier stage in the series I came under attack from a journalist -- another woman -- for not allowing Isabel to become romantically involved with Jamie. I had originally intended that theirfriendship be platonic but had been told in the course of an interview with this journalist that I really had to allow something closer to develop. "Your readers will expect it," she said. "And it would be so empowering for them."

Not one to stand between my readers and their empowerment, I had decided to let Isabel develop a romantic liaison, only to be taken to task later by my Sydney critics for exactly this. This, and many other similar experiences, has made me think about the whole issue of the novelist's freedom and responsibility. The conclusion that I am increasingly drawn to is that the world of fiction and the world of real flesh-and-blood people are not quite as separate as one may imagine. Writing is a moral act; what you write has a real effect on others, often to a rather surprising extent.
The issue of reader expectations is one with which writers of crime or mystery fiction have long been familiar. Poet W.H. Auden is among many critics who have commented on how novels in this genre follow a classic pattern: first there is peace, then this peace is shattered by the occurrence of a crime, usually a murder. This leads to a search for the wrongdoer, his apprehension and punishment, and finally a return to peace.

We need to see the moral balance restored, said Auden: a view also expressed by P.D. James, one of the greatest crime writers of our times. According to James, the traditional detective novel reassures us that we live in a moral universe, one in which the detective is the agent of justice. In this respect, she suggests, the detective novel is really doing the work of the old-fashioned morality play.
Although the vast majority of mystery novels follow this well-established pattern, not all do. In some instances, we know all the way through exactly what the wrongdoer has done -- there is no mystery element here -- and the real questions are why he acted as he did and whether he is going to get away with it. If he does go unpunished, then the conventional pattern in such books is turned on its head.

For the full, interesting and thoughtful piece link here to The Australian.

Alexander McCall Smith is the author of more than 60 books, including the No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency series.