Fiction should be that: just good fun. A story to amuse, entertain and, if it teaches anything at all, had any higher or more noble purpose, does so via the means of a good, well-told story. (Unfortunately, the 20th Century saw a great departure from this idea. *sigh*)
That’s one reason I agree with so many who deem P.G. Wodehouse the best novelist of the 20th Century. All of his (nearly all very short) novels are just that: novel, amusing and entertaining farces, but so very well written, with characters and dialogue and decriptive narrative that are so engaging, that one scarcely notices that their ONLY point is to entertain and amuse.
Another earlier 20th Century (and late 19th Century) author who approached Wodehouse’s readability in his fiction (but who excelled at non-fiction as well) is G.K. Chesterton. Here’s a little throwaway piece of descriptive narrative from one of his detective stories in illustration of his adept use of English:
It was one of those journeys on which a man perpetually feels that now at last he must have come to the end of the universe, and then finds he has only come to the beginning of Tufnell Park.
I’ve been on some journeys like that, haven’t you? And yet, to have an “omnibus” ride described in such terms is a delightful piece of prose painting of the type that Chesterton excelled in.
May I recommend that you CLICK on the Gutenberg.org link in my “Cool Links” section (or in this sentence :-)) and check out some Chesterton for yourself? Whether you settle on one of his lighter pieces of fiction or one of his theological or apologetics essays or his comments on society and mankind in general, or even any of his poetry, his words will draw you into a genial conversation with a sharp, inquiring mind who knew well the power of language… and had inestimable skill in its use.
Chesterton is just one more example of how much FUN one can have using one’s brain for something other than a paperweight.
Posting an invitation to the party at Stop the ACLU
Heh, lately my brain has been a bit more than a paperweight, but a bit less than a cavalcade of creativity.
Indeed, after I stop plumbing the depths of my soul with a Stephen King detective short, perhaps I’ll take a stab at some Wodehouse or Chesterton. I’m embarassed to say I don’t tink I’ve read either. My dad has a Father Brown collection but I never cracked it while growing up, when I had the chance.
Heh, but I HAVE read Shakespeare. Lots.
Does this mean I’m over-qualified to head an Ivy League (was it) English Dept? 😉
Yep, TMH, you’re over-qualified, though I’ll not narrow anything further than to say “East coast” cos the poor guy I referred to in comment on your blog was a nice guy, just sadly ill-educated, and I’d hate for anything to have an even remote chance of wending its way to his door. (Besides, he’s mended the huge gap in his education now… 🙂
The Father Brown books… Delightful. In fact, it was from “The Innocence of Father Brown” that I gleaned the lil excerpt for this post.
Just plain fun reading. But Chesterton always is. His essays are as delightful as his fiction, though more challenging. Hollyweird even pays unconscious (or semi-unconscious) homage to Chesterton on rare ocassion, as in the Bill Murray farcical twist on a Chesterton story (itself based on a Robert Farrar story that was once or twice removed in concept from the Chesterton), “The Man Who Knew Too Much,” as well as other pieces of which Hollyweird writers have some vague meme-ish awareness.
But that’s Hollyweird and many modern novelists: recycling and watering down plots and characters better-written (or performed) by past generations.
Make sure your dad bequeaths you his Father Brown collection. 🙂 His grandchildren will bless him.
And do download and read an ocassional OOP/public domain work from Gutenberg. It may cause you some distress as you discover the degradation of popular fiction and modern journalists/essayists offerings available today in contrast to the offerings from past generations, but that can be a good thing.
My own inept use of prose stands indicted as sub-literate fumblings when compared to the vastly more literate essayists of previous times, but I try to learn what I can from them.
(BTW, I see you’re still using Internet Exploder. Oh. Well. *LOL*)