"I thought the rhythmic purpose there was served simply by breaking to tell us it was the Medicine Man talking." But the rhythm's different, depending on how much there is in that break, and it's not just the rhythm as in prosody, it's also rhythm as in the choreography of the scene, which was what I was getting at in my breakdown: 'The medicine man said,' on its own, isn't long enough for the long, thinking-out sort of pause it would be. Going back to the question of whether any readers apart from writers actually get this stuff, I think it's akin to people listening to music. The experience is, an intuitive one in that the experience is not, fundamentally, a process of following conscious, logical steps, even though music is the most ruthlessly logical of the arts in its structure. But whether or not they could articulate the technical details of what they're hearing, almost everyone hears the tune, most pick up on whether it's major or minor, rather fewer are alert to a key change, fewer still pick up on the different quality of, say G minor and E Flat minor, and fewer still could do you a Schenkerian tonal analysis of it. But just because they don't consciously think as they go 'Ah, now we're in transition from C major to A minor, and - oh - A major, that's making me feel happy and calm, sad, then happy and hyper', absolutely doesn't mean that those things don't have that effect.

Yes to all this.

I want to back down from any suggestion that every line sandwiched between dialogue should be archly clever - that's not what I meant at all. That would be horrendous to read. But for me, there's a world of difference (Sorry Saturday - you've heard me spout this already elsewhere) between a gesture that is meaningful and one which is banal. Why not add texture? If a writer truly doesn't care that there's a difference, then we get the sort of prose where the characters all stride into rooms purposefully or throw back their heads and roar with laughter or sip tea pensively - stuff which reveals nothing about an individual character because the gesture itself is off the peg, not precision tailored to the character being drawn. Why would we want to be this slapdash? Some lucky authors write with precision instinctively, can't explain why stuff works, and don't review it. But most of us need to go back over gesture and detail and check if it's adding or padding. That check is crucial to good writing, I think. It's the difference between a scene coming to life in the readers' minds or their eyes skimming the page for the next bit of dramatic action.

And yes to all that, Cherys.

My definition of a really good book is one in which I find more every time I read it. And things like the extra-dimension (image/symbol/metaphor) of the coal, are the kind of thing I might or might not apprehend at first reading, am more likely to be at least semi-conscious of at second reading, and if that second reading still leaves me feeling there are unplumbed depths I want to plumb (and lots of books have unplumbed depths I know are there, but I'm not compelled enough to bother), at a third reading I might start actually thinking about the patterns of image and symbol. But the coal's still doing a job in that first read: just a job I'm not specially left-brain conscious of. But my right-brain's picking it up...

In my private terminology, a really good read, on the other hand, can just be a compelling story with engaging characters. It does what it says on the tin, no less, but no more. Really good books do more.

And in a no-doubt futile effort to write really good books, I try to make my writing do that more than they say on the tin.

Emma

I'm pretty much obsessed by the whole question of gesture and other minutae of a scene: what the characters are actually doing at every stage of a scene, where they are standing or sitting, the precise tone of voice in which lines are spoken, the location and scenery around them - it's the fascination of these things that led me away from writing unsuccessful novels and into writing largely unsuccessful plays. I can now focus much more on these issues - and the totality of the meaning that can be extracted from them - and worry less about others (which nonetheless have to enter in through other means).

I suspect that in a novel, as opposed to a play, perhaps you need a bit of an alternating zoom lens or selective edit effect when it comes to reporting gesture in scenes. While in a play the characters' every gesture will naturally be visible (but not necessarily of the same level of intensity as between scenes), it seems to me that if every character's every gesture is faithfully reported in the same level of detail in each scene in a novel (as I tended to do), the effect will be flat and monotonously over-detailed. What's probably needed is selective highlighting of gestures when they becomes significant in the context of the scene (and in the scene's context in the overall narrative).

In The Time Machine, as far as I remember the opening, maybe the gestures fit because the chap is about to reveal (while 'expounding on a recondite matter' - wasn't that the phrase?) that he's just invented a time machine. No small matter etc. Gestures possibly in order. But on the other hand, I'm not always convinced by Wells - highly imaginative, of course, but his prose is a little clunky at times.

My definition of a really good book is one in which I find more every time I read it.

I'm struggling to think of a single novel that I have ever wanted to read more than once, or a single film that I have wanted to view more than once either. That said...

not just saying what happened next, but saying it in a way which adds more than just facts

This is the 80% of communication that straight dialogue on the page misses and that I want to capture. I think it is this that gives those (with greater patience than me) the incentive to reread and find hidden depths. It's absolutely an ambition of mine to make everything count, which is probably why I tend towards sparse dialogue, and I was very impressed by the screen-play style of writing that encourages the same clarity. To me, a detail should be "interesting" on some dimension if I am to bother to include it.

Reading and rereading books you love and working out why you love them and how gesture is used in them

What I love is gesture that is unconscious, that flows out as a natural consequence of the situation and the character. I like to become immersed and to forget that I am reading at all. Maybe that's why I find descriptive writing so tough. When I look at somebody, I don't think "Ah, there's a 5'2" blonde woman with a chiselled jaw line and too much make-up", I begin thinking about my most recent interaction with them and what significance (if any) it had (though I may also notice if she is cute).

Similarly, in a conversation, if I become aware of gesturing and body language from the person I am talking to, it is because it is important or irritating or off-putting. There is stuff that I can take for granted (such as coal in the fire) and stuff I need to look out for (such as them failing to meet my eye when I begin negotiating a price).

Maybe I'm too analytical and / or clinical in my approach to writing, but I would definitely agree with RJH about the consideration of different lenses. Dialogue seems to me like the fine focus, descriptive seems to me like the wide-focus bigger picture. It always seems like a mistake to mix the two. Although, by all means, zoom in and out as appropriate to find the best effect.

G

Dialogue seems to me like the fine focus, descriptive seems to me like the wide-focus bigger picture.

Not when you're concentrating on the finer details. It's more like the difference between black & white and graduations of colour.
Maybe you just want b/w if it's what's being said that's important.
But if you want to add/imply what the characters are thinking and feeling then you need to add the sepia tones.
If you want to set the scene then record it in full colour.

To me, a detail should be "interesting" on some dimension if I am to bother to include it.

I'd agree that a detail does need something like the symbolic role of the coal, or perhaps the characterisation of the Medicine Man as a thoughtful person, for it to earn its keep and get to stay. To me the bit about staring into the fire is interesting, in the sense that it adds layers, and those layers are worth having. It evokes how the dialogue comes across, and the fire-lit room and the physical gesture of his head - all things which films and plays do off the page - and if you like carries the extra symbolic dimension, and so on. Does quite a lot, really.

Rupert, I agree that I'd always rather express the dynamics of a scene through what I think of as the choreography of gaze, movement, position, gesture more than, or at least as much as, in narrative. Maybe it's relevant that my background is drama.

Have to say that the second half of the MM's speech, though, is dreadfully clunky...

Elaborated a blog post from my posts on this thread, BTW, so thanks for the inspiration, Gaius. http://emmadarwin.typepad.com/thisitchofwriting/2009/02/learning-to-fly.html

Emma

thanks for the inspiration, Gaius

I'm a muse!

BTW, to clarify from your blog, it's not the structure of the sentence that bothers me... we all do that... just the banality of the detail.

When I look at somebody, I don't think "Ah, there's a 5'2" blonde woman with a chiselled jaw line and too much make-up", I begin thinking about my most recent interaction with them and what significance (if any) it had (though I may also notice if she is cute).

But isn't that the issue, Gaius? A description that tells you her height and hair colour is likely to be boring, but if you tell us why you find her cute - which may be related to her appearance, her mannerisms, her tone of voice, whatever - it's much more likely to be interesting and to be an integral part of the story.

if you tell us why you find her cute - which may be related to her appearance, her mannerisms, her tone of voice, whatever - it's much more likely to be interesting and to be an integral part of the story

I think you are imagining:
"But," said the Medicine Man, staring with longing at the young woman's slender bare legs, "if hemlines are really only a fourth dimension of couture, why have they always been, regarded as something different?"

But I am reading:
"But," said the Medicine Man, staring at the model's legs, "if hemlines are really only a fourth dimension of couture, why have they always been, regarded as something different?"

In the former, there is the possibility of a sub-plot, in the latter merely a statement of fact. Goddamit, he has to look somewhere!

Gaius, no, I know it's not the structure you were quarrelling it, but the gesture.

It seems to me that a lot of this problem of what gestures you do and don't say is sorted out if you grapple with the issue of point of view, because once your narrator has a character (and I don't mean necessarily a character in the novel: an external narrator has opinions too) then what is noticed and how it's put, of such gestures, becomes easier to decide.

Emma

I think that nails it, Emma. And I think I can refine my objection that started this.
Even the names (Medicine Man!) suggest these are throwaway characters in a throwaway setting. So any detail is already suspect in the eyes of all but the most tolerant readers.
As per the thread on discarding chapter one, the opening reads (to me) like the author's notes to the author. The narrator character is undefined because the story hasn't properly started. I know fashions have changed in this regard, and my strength of feeling suggests I am now thoroughly indoctrinated in the current style.
But at least I know.
Thanks,

A fascinating discussion. Thank you all. I learnt a great deal.
Certainly must agree that the answer to honing ones (presumable) skills is to read, read, read.
Indira