In any story you communicate with your reader by building up a rhythm of disclosing or withholding information. By moderating what they know you are inviting your reader to use their imagination, to elaborate on the facts they are given and so help create the story. Genre is a parallel form of imaginative communication with your reader. By giving your reader hints that they might be reading a certain type of story, you are guiding their expectation.
From Aristotle onwards there has been a theory of writing which is all to do with the categorisation of literature into different types and forms. The three over-arching, modern day literary genres are fiction, poetry and drama. Within fiction there are also many sub-genres, such as science fiction, romance novels, and historical novels. The list is ever growing, and also includes types of fiction categorised according to the way it is written, as well as according to its content. So there are epistolary novels, written largely in the form of letters, such as Richardson’s Pamela (2001 [1740]), or Rites of Passage by William Golding (1980), which deploys an epistolary journal. Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding is a popular descendant of this genre. In this way combinations are formed. Bridget Jones’s Diary (1996), for example, is a ‘journal’ or ‘diary’ novel, but is also what has become known as a ‘chick lit’ novel, because it is written by a woman and is about the trials and tribulations of a modern, young woman.
Stories conforming to a specific genre are often regarded as a lesser type of writing, yet generic expectation within the reader is an important tool to be exploited. Most of the stories we have looked at so far lie outside the more obvious sub-generic headings and might be termed ‘literary fiction’. Yet even amongst them there might be a scattering of generic labels. Raymond Carver, for instance, is often called a ‘dirty realist’ because of the subject matter and the nature of many of his characters – poor, sometimes alcoholic, and often suffering health and relationship problems. Also, as we have seen, ‘The Dream’ resembles a fairy story or parable, and ‘The Artist’ might be seen as a modern fairy story.
Genre is a dynamic aspect of writing and reading, not just a pejorative label placed upon certain types of writing. All readers are looking to spot what sort of narrative they’re involved in at any one time. Readers aren’t naïve creatures. Invariably they are aware of many genres of story; they are capable of picking up on certain clues which school their expectation.
They can understand such codes but don’t necessarily need the expectation to be fulfilled. It is this play with generic expectations that often fuels their reading enjoyment.
Look at the three extracts of specific genres which follow. In your notebook detail what sort of writing each excerpt might be. Try to identify the features that drew you to this conclusion.
Extract 1
The pebbled glass door panel is lettered in flaked black paint: ‘Philip Marlowe....Investigations.’ It is a reasonably shabby door at the end of a reasonably shabby corridor in the sort of building that was new about the year the all-tile bathroom became the basis of civilisation. The door is locked, but next to it is another door with the same legend which is not locked. Come on in – there’s nobody in here but me and a big bluebottle fly. But not if you’re from Manhattan, Kansas.
Extract 2
The year was 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren’t only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and the
unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General. Extract 3
She didn’t look crazy, Max decided. At a glance she seemed a rather ordinary, could-be-pretty-if-she-bothered country blonde. Only there was nothing ordinary about a slender young woman in a conservative navy blue suit sitting on a log at the edge of the ocean playing the banjo. Not when the yellow- tinged clouds overhead held promise of an April downpour, and the wind whistling past her ears was lifting her long hair so that it fell across her face like tangled silk.
She looked utterly incongruous. Prim conventionality gone mad. Max found her enchanting.
DISCUSSION It’s surprising how it is possible to recognise certain signposts and
linguistic features instantly, even though you may not be entirely familiar with a particular type of writing. These are some of the labels you might have come up with, along with the elements you might have picked up on:
ACTIVITY 11.5
Extract 1 – detective, thriller, crime
This is typified by its laconic, world-weary style, and its direct address to the reader, made famous by so many movie adaptation voice-overs. The name on the door rather gives it away. The place is ‘shabby’ and the general ambience, as illustrated by the fly, is seedy. One presumes there is a dingy crime about to land on Marlow’s dingy desk. This is from Raymond Chandler’s Little Sister (1955 [1949], p.5).
Extract 2 – science fiction, futuristic
This gives the futuristic year in which it is set straightaway, but the reader gets no other establishment of time or location. It focuses almost comically on a commonly held, present-day ideal (equality for all), while referring to present- day political language (for example ‘Amendments’, ‘Constitution’). The sentences are short, full of rhythmic repetitions and ostensibly straightforward. This is Kurt Vonnegut’s short story ‘Harrison Bergeron’ (1979 [1968], p.19). Interestingly it might provoke more generic labels. For instance, it might be classed as ‘satire’, or even ‘dystopian’, because it seems to be treating a possible utopian future with cynicism and irony.
Extract 3 – romance, love story
This is taken up completely with the description of a woman, and in particular details the woman’s appearance in comparison to what might be deemed ‘ordinary’ or ‘pretty’. The elemental forces of romance, the wind and the ocean, are also introduced here, together crucially with a man’s approving gaze. This is Kay Gregory’s Man of the Mountains, a Mills and Boon romance (Gregory, 1993, p.5).