All In The Family

I'd planned to jump over to a deeply profound discussion on character and family in The Girl In The Glass, but I think I'd like to start off talking about the idea of story. Because this book has an honest-to-goodness story. There is a beginning, a middle, and an end.

When you finish this book, sure, a few questions remain. What goes unanswered forms the true mystery of the story -- as Gwenda noted, was there ever really a girl in the glass or was it all an elaborate con? Loose ends don't have to be tied in neat little bows for a story to be complete. When a story is well-told, you don't close the book asking, "Is that all there is?"

About character, and, more importantly, characters. I recently reviewed a book with a final action scene, and there were tons of characters on the page. It took everything I had to keep them in place (and I failed; clearly I did not have enough). But even before this, I didn't have a good handle on the secondary characters. They never became individuals to me.

Through excellent choreography -- an action sequence is like an elaborate ballroom dance -- and clear characterization, we know who is who as the bullets fly and justice is served. Gwenda mentions that this story doesn't rely upon stereotypes to build character. Now, to me, stereotypes can be useful when done well. They provide useful shorthand in those instances when a quick mental understanding is needed.

The key to creating memorable characters is moving beyond the stereotypes with key, concrete details. Ford could have stopped at the name with Vonda, the Rubber Lady -- you know everything about her right there -- but he gave her a love life and a future. Vonda wasn't page filler. She was an integral part of the story.

And that leads me to family. Throughout this book, people step out of their ordinary lives and offer unconditional help to Schell, Antony, and Diego. They don't do this because it's necessary to move the story forward. Their actions come from the idea that this group of people who live on the outside edges of society are a family. They look out for each other, they know what's going on, and they worry when a character doesn't check in for a while.

Diego, an immigrant Mexican kid rescued from the streets by Schell, calls the man his father. Schell sees himself as the parent figure. Even when they change roles in the story, they are parent and child. Schell's actions are driven by his need to run this con through to the end because he needs to provide Diego with a future. It almost makes one wonder if somehow Schell knew about Isabel before Diego met her.

Comments

[Jeff Ford]

Kassia: I was going to shut up, but this post of yours really touched something I'd thought about myself. How the novel is a lot about family -- the families that we make and that form -- not so much the old fashioned definition of a family. This was much on my mind during the writing of the book because of all of the nonsense against gay marriage going on during the last election. I think it's one of the reasons readers have liked the characters so much, because the characters liked each other. This is why a hard ass noir wasn't going to cut it for me. In that kind of a book, the characters all have the same reaction to everything. I wanted the dire circumstances but I always want to explore character. And in latter years I've found that it is more interesting to try to understand characters that like each other than those who don't. although that doesn't seem to make sense fictional-wise. Thanks for your thoughts.

[Gwenda]

"Now, to me, stereotypes can be useful when done well. They provide useful shorthand in those instances when a quick mental understanding is needed."

I very much agree with this. And I'd even go so far as to say that there's a special pleasure in finding a fully formed character that has a stereotype as the jumping off point. It's a surprising gift for the reader.