Fictional representations undeniably shape the way a reader sees the world. Accuracy is critical. A reader can’t connect to a character if the writer doesn’t understand the core issues facing a protagonist, or if the psychological details are wrong. Jonathan Franzen’s depictions of female sexuality leave me cold; I simply don’t think he understands women. The same was true for me in Robert James Waller’s The Bridges of Madison County. Robert Kinkaid’s sexual prowess was comically hyperbolic. And the suspense genre is notorious for creating ableist stereotypes of the mentally ill.
Popular fiction often sacrifices characterization at the altar of plot contrivance. In order to pull off a twist, characters take hard lefts. Optimistic endings shade harsh realities. Writers simply don’t understand the complexities of past times and present, trenchant social problems. If you’re looking for accuracy, quality fiction will better serve you.
Here is a look at recent popular fiction that makes some questionable choices.
1.
I am both gratified and puzzled by the popularity of this novel. With over a million ratings on Goodreads, the book earned five stars from 60% of readers, almost unheard of on that notoriously snarky site. Fantastic.
I am always thrilled to see an LGBTQ story go mainstream. Evelyn Hugo is bisexual, with her most significant relationship taking the form of a decades-long love affair with fellow actor Cecilia St. James. Evelyn’s unwillingness to be out leads to numerous fraudulent marriages, including to a gay man who fathers her child.
The smoke and mirrors plotting is clever. I enjoyed the book a lot. But is it accurate? I have my issues with some of it. For one thing, it is written from a contemporary perspective. With the exception of Evelyn, the other LGBT characters are mostly confident in themselves, doomed only by others, less so by themselves. Where is the famous self-hatred that characterized early queer storytelling? Evelyn and Cecilia are even confident enough to have sex in public places.
Evelyn also says things like, “Now that’s not fair, Cecilia, I am bisexual, not gay.” Given the times, I found her clarity of identity implausible. I suppose Evelyn’s gritty upbringing might explain her strength, but I also think the author doesn’t always understand the times she is writing about.
2.
An elderly dandy writes a heartfelt essay about his loneliness and leaves the notebook in a public place, encouraging others to reveal themselves. Monica, a cafe owner, follows suit, admitting in her entry that she desperately wants a child. Hazard, an addict, stuffs the journal in his carry-on and takes it with him to Thailand.
Slowly the diary connects six disparate people. They form a community of choice centered at a London coffeehouse.
Hazard is depicted as a cocaine sniffing womanizer who beds women and just as quickly forgets their names. So it’s a bit of a record scratch when, newly sober, he morphs into a romantic hero. I was not compelled by his transformation and was troubled by the book’s sunny take on addiction.
Are we supposed to believe that Hazard’s intimacy issues are suddenly cured by sobriety and the right woman? This is a genial rom com with the emotional depth of a fortune cookie.
Books Smitten 