Bait-and-Switch Book Beginnings

Stephen King's latest novel (which I consider one of his best recent works), THE INSTITUTE, starts with a long section from the viewpoint of a secondary character (who doesn't reenter the story until close to the end). It then switches to the protagonist, a 12-year-old boy with a slight degree of psi power who gets kidnapped by the titular Institute. Both characters are deeply engaging, and their separate stories end up skillfully meshed. It's Stephen King, so it works! Nevertheless, spending that much space at the beginning of a novel on a secondary character before even introducing the protagonist is definitely not what most readers expect.

What I think of as "bait-and-switch" narrative is common enough, in a modest way, with suspense and horror fiction. Such novels often start with a brief introduction of a character whose main purpose is to get killed. (A regular reviewer of the SUPERNATURAL TV series used to call this type of victim "doomed teaser guy.") Even in those novels, however, I feel sort of cheated if the author allots too much wordage (more than a few paragraphs or at most a couple of pages) to a doomed character. The writer has fooled us into mistaking this short-lived person for the protagonist, luring us into an emotional investment in her or him, after which we have to start all over getting engaged with a new character.

The sense of being "baited and switched" can pose a difficulty with prologues. If the prologue focuses on a character other than the protagonist of the main text, we may feel as if the author has started the book twice. We get all excited about the prologue's main character and may feel let down when he or she disappears or fades into the background in favor of a different focal character for the story as a whole.

Some readers may feel "baited and switched" by the entire opening volume of George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire series. While I wouldn't say I felt cheated, I was certainly shocked by that first exposure to his "anyone can die" authorial strategy, when the man I assumed to be the protagonist of the entire series didn't survive to the end of the first book.

Assuming this kind of shift at the beginning of a book is sometimes justified, how can an author pull it off so the reader won't feel tricked? Or lose interest when the focus switches to a different viewpoint character after the opening scenes have lured us into caring about the character first introduced? It's a little different, although still potentially tricky, when a narrative repeatedly switches perspectives throughout, presenting scenes through the eyes of two or more equally important viewpoint characters, as Martin's series does. In reading such a text, I sometimes have trouble getting back up to speed, emotionally, after each switch.

This let-down feeling doesn't have to result from a change in viewpoint characters. Long ago, I read a book intriguingly set in an alternate present where supernatural creatures exist openly, and social and economic structures are accordingly different from those in our primary world. The protagonist is a private detective who works with supernatural-related cases. (At that time, this worldbuilding concept was new and uncommon, not a familiar trope as it is nowadays.) In the first chapter, the protagonist deals with a vampire in a very funny scene. "Oh, goody, a cool vampire novel," I thought. Alas, nary another vampire in the entire book, although it wasn't a bad story on its own terms. Granted, this kind of problem isn't necessarily the author's fault. Other readers less vampire-focused than I might not assume from the first chapter that the point was to launch a vampire plot rather than (as it actually was) to introduce the protagonist's profession. Still, in my own case, I approached the rest of the story with a negative bias as soon as I realized my initial assumption had been mistaken.

Then there was the bait-and-switch of a successful chick-lit novel called MUST LOVE DOGS, whose inciting incident has a friend persuading the protagonist to place a personal ad in a dating venue. The friend gets her to include "Must love dogs" as a way of attracting nice guys, although the heroine doesn't have a dog and knows almost nothing about the species. Between the title and the inciting incident, I was expecting a romance with, you know, lots of dog content. Nope. The story soon leaves that premise behind. Maybe I would have felt less cheated by the plot if the inciting incident hadn't been combined with the title and a dog-centered cover (neither of which might have been the author's fault, admittedly, especially the cover illustration).

Do you feel "baited and switched" by these kinds of abrupt turns in a novel? And, as an author, how do you handle them if you have reason to write them?

Margaret L. Carter

Carter's Crypt

Prologues and Spoilers

I dropped a comment on Cindy's very provocative Saturday post (see below) on Prologues and Epilogues, and another on Linnea's post for Monday, preceding this post.

I didn't mention that if you use a "prologue" you really should also need (because of the story structure) an "epilogue".

As a reviewer, I generally see "Prologue" and flip back to look for an "Epilogue" before deciding whether to read the prologue, and if there's an epilogue I read it first, then flip to the prologue to see if it matches correctly. If there is no epilogue, I don't read the prologue. Or if the epilogue is not a natural follow on from the prologue, I don't read the prologue.

When I come to a point in the story that needs the information in the prologue, I might consult the prologue -- or I might just set the book aside unfinished if it's too flawed to review.

You see, what generally goes into a prologue (especially one required by an editor who doesn't know how to "fix" your manuscript in time for publication) is what is usually labeled a "spoiler."

"Spoiler" is a term that cropped up at the beginnings of the Internet when fans began discussing books, film and TV across time zones. It turned out that a number of people feel it "spoils" a story to know what is going to happen.

Classic literature that uses the prologue/epilogue structure telegraphs to the reader that this character will or won't survive, that the events of the story are actually caused by or interfered with from someone else in some other place or time, or that sets up the reader to understand the characters before the story begins instead of unfolding their quirks one at a time during a smooth flowing narrative.

The prologue/ epilogue structure was invented because most people's story-enjoyment is enriched and enhanced by knowing what is going to happen before they've read the story.

If knowing the key shocker or twist event of a story "spoils" the effect of the story, then why do audiences flock to performances of Shakespeare's plays? Why do congregations read the same portions of the Bible over and over in a yearly cycle? Why did Star Trek and Star Wars fans fill movie theaters again and again, chanting the words with the characters?

Why do people, battered and bruised from a week's work, curl up with an old movie they've seen a dozen times? Why do people buy DVDs of films they've seen in the theater? Why do people buy the book before going to see the film? Why do theaters fill for classical ballet performances? Why does TV rerun series episodes? And why do people re-read novels?

Such human behavior telegraphs that repetition enriches the experience, that knowing before hand what is going to happen doesn't spoil it but actually increases the impact and thus the enjoyment.

Well-designed prologue/epilogue bookends tell you whether the writer knows what they're doing with the specific story-form, and thus whether the story between them is worth your precious time to read.

They tell you what that story is about, and what the major change is going to be. But they don't tell you how it happens or what it feels like to undergo that change. A good prologue/ epilogue pair sets the reader up to thoroughly enjoy the story and come back to read it again and again.

Finding a writer who can handle the prologue/epilogue pairing is like finding a great restaurant. The steak was great - let's have the stew next time. You come back again and again to the source, read the book over and over, savour that prologue and epilogue in depth and yearn for sequels.

People disparage the Romance field, the SF and Fantasy fields, and inexplicably the SFR or Alien Romance field as fluff, escapist, no-account waste of time garbage.

But the truth is, enduring classics in these fields, and most especially in SFR and Alien Romance, are not only possible, but currently hitting the market. This cross-genre field is building up to become a source of important classics for future generations to study.

The hallmark of a classic is that it is re-readable and speaks to the essentials of human nature even across generations. That even when you know exactly what's going to happen, you still get "in the mood" to reread that book, and you savour it more each time.

Now you can argue that the reason for this re-read - rerun phenomenon is that people want to relive that moment when they first hit the shocker of a twist without warning. And thus warning someone before hand "spoils" that moment, vitiates the impact, and therefore they will never re-read the work.

But if that were true, why would schools teach ABOUT King Lear before taking the class to see the play? Or examine the plot of SWAN LAKE before taking the class to see the ballet?

The only instance I can think of where knowing the twist or who dies or what the shocker moment is SPOILS the enjoyment of the film or book is when the film or book consists of nothing but the twist, shocker, or surprise ending.

A mystery is not spoiled by knowing who the killer is (you're supposed to figure it out before the detective does) -- unless that's ALL the enjoyment the story can deliver.

A mystery is about the psychological duel between perpetrator and detective, and it is the duel, the search for clues, and the personality of the detective (and perp) that makes it interesting.

An "open form" mystery like COLOMBO has a "prologue" where the murder takes place, then Colombo comes and solves it, but we don't usually see the "epilogue" of the court sentencing. We're supposed to imagine the epilogue to make room for commercials.

PERRY MASON showed the murder, then the solving, then the court battle (usually, not always in that order) because Mason was a defense lawyer, not the detective per se. It is the HOW the wrong person was charged, and how that person was exonerated that is interesting.

If the "how" was not the interesting part, why would reprints of Sherlock Holmes still be available? Why would that antiquated Detective Series be made into a TV series with Jeremy Brett starring as Sherlock Holmes? Why would "Murder She Wrote" reruns be on almost as much as "I Love Lucy?"

Lucy is funny even when you already know what the gag line will be at the end. How can that be if it's been "spoiled" by the fact that you know what will happen in advance.

Knowing the answer, the twist, the shocker, does not spoil the mystery, comedy, or drama -- and it does not spoil any story -- unless the story is essentially worthless to begin with.

To expect that if you know a plot twist your enjoyment will be spoiled is to reveal that you prefer to indulge in worthless literature, just as our detractors accuse us of doing when reading SFR or AR -- or SF or Fantasy.

A classic is never damaged by foreknowledge among the readers/viewers. That's the very definition of "classic" -- and in this day and age, there's no reason to spend your time reading anything that isn't of the classic caliber. There are more classics out there than you can read in a lifetime.

Thus the title of my review column is ReReadable Books -- I review books that have that "classic" profile, and that thus can not be "spoiled" by revealing the shocker, the twist, the who dies and who survives, elements of the plot.

So you will find "spoilers" in my column. If that distresses you, you can find the list of books to be reviewed in future months on the column's website and read the books before reading the reviews. In fact, the column is designed for people to get the most out of it by pre-reading the books I "re" view.

In my column, I discuss the invisible links between and among books, TV shows, films, and even non-fiction. The individual works discussed are not nearly as important as the light that each sheds upon the other. I generally don't discuss books in depth in my column if they weren't "classic" material that can't be "spoiled" by knowing some of the content before hand.

I do discuss a few proto-classics, books that are leading an entire field or sub-genre toward producing those treasured and timeless classics. These books, while not classics themselves, are of interest to writers who want to contribute to the shaping of a new classic field. And they aren't easy to "spoil" either.

I generally single out bits of content that might tell the reader whether they want to read that book, or not. And usually there's enough lead time between when the list of books to be discussed is posted online and when the column itself goes up that you can find the books at the library rather than buying them.

For me, the real enjoyment of fiction comes from savouring compositions formed of groups and lists of works. That's because I see the universe as a single unit, an indivisible whole, and I love finding the underlying unifying characteristics of what appear to be disparate, individual things.

If you like that, come look over my column (it's free).

http://www.simegen.com/reviews/rereadablebooks/2008/

Join the List from that page to be informed when new to-review lists are posted.

Use the left hand nav-bar to look back at columns to 1993. Just because the books are "old" doesn't necessarily mean they're "spoiled."

Jacqueline Lichtenberg
http://www.simegen.com/jl/

To Prologue or not to Prologue

I like prologues. I think they are a useful tool in writing. When I develop a character in my mind they usually come complete with a history that makes them the person they are when the story takes place. In my first novel, Chase The Wind, I had a prologue that was the entire first half of the book because the story was really about Jenny, not Ian and Faith who died tragically and people cried about. Of course I had no clue then about the craft, I just wanted to tell the story.

I don't always use prologues, only when they are necessary to give some back story that would not come across well in the show/tell part. In Shooting Star I used a prolouge to explain Ruben's history. A story from when he was twelve that explained how he came to be a smuggler. In Star Shadows I did it to give some of the mythology of the planet Circe so the reader would realize the importance of Zander, even though the book was not about Zander but Elle and Boone.

I added a prologue to Forgive The Wind where my hero loses his leg. He lost his leg in a previous book, Crosswinds but it was told from the heroine of that books POV. In Forgive The Wind I wrote the exact same scene but told it from Caleb's POV since Forgive The Wind was his story.

Rising Wind has the most awesome prologue ever. My editor said she would have bought the book on the prologue alone. It described the hero's birth, sat up his future internal conflict and introduced the heroine and antagonist, all on the battlefield of Culloden. I love it when I get it right!

In my current wip I didn't start with a prologue since my hero had been introduced in Rising Wind. Then I realized that the intro was just plain boring. Basically it was a guy looking in a mirror.

Original beginning

“Pride goeth before destruction, John Murray, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”
John Murray cast a blond eyebrow askance as his blue eyes switched from his own reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall to that of his friend. “Quoting scripture again Rory?” he asked. “Did you ever think that perhaps you should have pursued a career in the church instead of the King’s army?”
“You forget, my friend, I have the misfortune of being a second son,” Rory replied, shouldering John aside from the mirror so he could arrange his own brown locks to his satisfaction. “Which means my life, alas, was predestined from the start.” Rory completed his hair and placed his hat at a jaunty angle atop his head. “And since I have no control over my destiny, I will be off to see what she has in store for me.” Rory threw up a mock salute and with his hand on his sheathed saber to keep it from catching on the door, left the narrow room that the two men shared.
“Destiny is what we make of it!” John shouted after him and returned to his perusal of his image. “Or so we tell ourselves,” he reminded his reflection quietly less someone walking by caught him talking to himself. That would not do at all.

It's okay. You find out the important information about John but it doesn't suck you into the story. So I added a prologue of something that happens later in the book. John's turning point and the reason he was such a jerk in Rising Wind. By adding this bit I also gave the reader something to think about. Why did this happen? How? When? Hmmm, maybe I should keep reading to find out.

Aberdeen. Scotland, 1773
A fine mist fell. John Murray could not help but shiver in his shirtsleeves as he stepped out into the damp gray gloom of early morning. A shudder moved down his spine as his eyes fell upon the post planted in the middle of the court yard at Castlehill. The ground around it was trampled, torn, and filled with the muck from the mix of rain and free flowing blood. Ewain Ferguson’s blood. No comfort for him there as his blood would soon join it.
Was she watching? His blue eyes scanned the ranks of his peers, all standing at attention in the despicable weather, all surely cursing his name because they were given orders to rise early this miserable morning and watch his punishment.
Where was she? Surely they would force her to watch since it was her fault he was here in the first place. Surely they made her watch her brother’s lashing as it was his fault that two men now lay dead.
There. He saw her. Standing straight and as tall as her petite frame would allow next to the General who was magnanimous in his show of mercy towards her. She was a woman after all, and nothing more than an instrument in the treachery of her clansmen.
Her hair was plastered down against her head instead of the mass of springy curls that framed her face like sunlight. This morning it seemed darker than its usual reddish blonde, whether from the rain, or the doom and gloom that hung over the courtyard, he could not tell. Her dress was stained dark with blood and the neckline gaped open, torn by him in his haste the night they were together. Of course she would have no way to mend it so it hung open, teasing him, tormenting him, just as she did the first time he met her. She had gotten into his head that day, damn her and all her clan before her. She had no choice but to live with the state of her dress since her hands were tied before her. Even though the distance between them was great he could feel her deep brown eyes upon him. That gave him a measure of satisfaction. A small measure at that but something to hang on to considering his dire straights.
If only they would lash her also. Did she not deserve it? Was not she as guilty as her brothers and her father in the planning and the plotting and the betrayal?
John’s stomach clenched in anger at the thought. No. It would not do to rip her pale, delicate skin. Knowing her as he did he knew that she would rather have the lashing herself than watch it. She would suffer more that way. She deserved to suffer for what she’d done.
“Best get on with it lad,” Sergeant Gordon said. “Dreading it only makes it worse.”
John ripped his eyes from his desperate examination of her face and looked at the grizzled Sergeant who served as his escort. “Aye, lad,” he said in his hoarse croak. “I’ve felt the lash. “Tis best not to think on it too much. The muscles bunch across your shoulders and it makes it much worse.”
John flexed his shoulders as he took the first step into the courtyard. “How can I not think on it?” He’d seen lashings. Plenty of them. General Kensington was generous in his discipline but he was fair. Twenty lashes was the usual sentence for dereliction of duty.
But he’d added another five because of the circumstance John caught himself in.
Let it be a lesson to all. Do not be swayed by a pretty face and the offer of favors. When John considered the loss of his reputation and the damage to his career, the lashes were nothing in comparison.
Still he knew they were coming and with them would come pain. John flexed his shoulders again. The mist had turned into a drumming rain and his shirt was soaked through. He felt goose bumps on his flesh. He hoped it was the cold that caused them, and not the fear.
“I know what you’re thinking lad,” Sergeant Gordon continued as they walked the innumerable steps to the post. “You’re thinking how will it feel? Will I be able to stand it? Will I cry out like a babe?” Gordon was right all on accounts. John felt a newfound respect for the man as they continued the gut wrenching walk across the yard.
Too soon they stood before the post and Gordon attached the hook to the bonds around his wrists. Gordon nodded to a corporal who jerked on a rope attached to a pulley and John’s arms were stretched above his head and he was pulled against the post. His boots sunk into the muck and the corporal pulled again so that he was stretched up onto his toes.
“Let him down a bit lad,” Gordon instructed. “Ye might find yerself in the same predicament some day.” The corporal relented and John was able to place his feet somewhat firmly on each side of the post.
Gordon looked beyond John to the burly man holding the lash. “He won’t be happy unless you cry out,” he said. “The man loves his job for some reason.” Gordon spat into the mud by John’s feet. “Sadistic bastard,” he added. He slipped a piece of wood in John’s mouth. “Bite down on it lad. Twill help.”
John nodded as he placed his cheek against the post. Gordon stepped behind him and ripped away his shirt. “Think on something else lad,” he added into his ear as the cold rain on his bare back let him know that Gordon had left him.
Think on something else…John blinked the rain off his eyelashes and looked towards General Kensington. He heard the sentence being read by Kensington’s aide, a nephew of the General’s with a squeaky voice and bad skin.
“Do you understand your sentence for the crimes you have committed?” the aide asked, his voice breaking on the last part.
John looked at the General and nodded. The General raised his hand. His face looked sad and John knew that the man was thinking about his father. They were friends. It was the reason Kensington had requested John be assigned to him. What would Kensington have to say to his father about all of this?
Think on something else…He knew the lash was coming. He could sense it coiling and gathering. He heard it whistle threw the air.
John looked at her. Isobel. Izzy. It was her fault. He trusted her with his life, with his soul, with his heart and she betrayed him.
He felt the sting of the lash. His back burned as he was slammed against the post.
“One,” the aide said.
Get on with it…
The next one came in the opposite direction. Marking his back with an X. A target. His eyes stayed on Izzy. How easy a target he’d been for her. He’d fallen like a rock into sea. Sunk right into her plotting. Captured by a winsome smile and deep brown eyes that seemed to hold the secrets of time.
“Two,”
The next one landed straight across, the splinted tail of the whip caressing his ribcage and tearing at the skin on his side as it hit against the bone.
John let out a hiss as he kept his eyes on Izzy. Her eyes seemed huge in her face. At one time he’d thought he could get lost in those eyes.
“Three.”
Damn her eyes. Three lashes and his back felt like it was on fire.
The next one struck straight down his spine. The man was thorough if nothing else. He seemed determined to flay every inch off his back in the strokes allowed. John pressed his wrists against each other as pain shot throughout every inch of his body. He pushed against the post, his body automatically seeking escape from the next blow.
“Four.”
Think on something else.
How could he not be tense when he knew it was coming? He heard the whistle of the lash once again. Felt his flesh tear. Felt the blood pour down his back. He groaned and clenched his teeth tighter into the wood.
“Five.”
Twenty to go. How could he stand it? He had too. Crying wouldn’t stop it. Begging wouldn’t stop it. Screaming his anger at the heavens would not stop it anymore than it would stop the rain that washed against his back and plastered his hair into his eyes.
Izzy. He stared at her, blinking against the rain. It was her fault. All her fault. Every bit of it.

When I get to this part in the linear story I will write it from Izzy's POV. So hopefully the prologue will draw the reader in and keep them reading until they find out why John got the lashes and what part Izzy played in it.

I've heard a lot of differing opinions on prologues. But if it works for the story then I say use it.