pameladlloyd: Alya, an original character by Ian L. Powell (writing)
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One of the topics we discussed during the most recent [livejournal.com profile] bittercon was Authorized Cruelty over on [livejournal.com profile] sartorias' journal.

In one of my comments I left out a mention to a writer whose works I've found compelling, because I didn't want to mention two different authors whose names and book titles I was blanking on. I still can't remember the author mentioned in my comment, but Jenny Rappaport, whose blog Lit Soup I read through her RSS feed [livejournal.com profile] comfort_soup, happened to mention the other writer's name: Jacqueline Carey.

Jacqueline Carey's Kushiel's Legacy series goes far past what I thought was my threshold for violence, especially violence in the context of sexual activity, yet I couldn't read them fast enough once I'd started. These books examined the fine line between pleasure and pain, as well as giving a graphic depiction of a character for whom pain is pleasure. But don't make the mistake of thinking that these are simple books with a single focus. The world-building and characterizations are complex, and the voice is outstanding, with the end result that the story is compelling on multiple levels. (As an aside, you may be interested in the discussions going on right now on [livejournal.com profile] sartorias' journal: Voice or worldbuilding? and Is voice more important than worldbuilding? over on [livejournal.com profile] pjthompson's journal, which look at what makes books work for people.)

This got me to thinking about Laurell K. Hamilton's work. A friend introduced me to Hamilton's Anita Blake series several years ago and I started out enjoying the series. However, what I saw as the series progressed was an apparent pattern in which the violence and sex would become a bit more graphic as the series progressed, then ratchet back down for a book, only to creeps leap back up in the next. Eventually, I no longer felt that the sex and violence were a consequence of the plot and characterization, but that the plot and characterization existed only to provide an excuse for the sex and violence. At which point, I lost interest in the series. I've never been able to get into her Meredith Gentry series either.

So where's the line? When has an author gone too far? When are sex and violence appropriate to the story, and when are they gratuitous?

Edited to add: In a really, really big oops, I realized that the discussion I was thinking about was the one [livejournal.com profile] sartorias linked to: Is voice more important than worldbuilding? over on [livejournal.com profile] pjthompson's journal, so I added that info inline, as well as here. My apologies.

(no subject)

Date: 2008-08-17 02:56 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] pdlloyd.livejournal.com
Hmm. I think my last comment was simply too vague.

I think it's a shame when authors whose careers have gone well think they can write whatever they please, ignoring the things they knew about writing at the beginnings of their careers and rejecting editorial direction.

Note that I don't know enough about LKH to know if that's what's going on with her, or not. But, there are certain other writers (of whom Piers Anthony is one) who actually publish essays about how they have ignored editorial advice.

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