On the crime writing circuit, one bumps into lots of people, writers and readers, with whom one has the occasional pleasant conversation without necessarily getting the chance to spend a lot of time in their company. A while back I was talking to Daniel Sellers, an interesting writer now based in Scotland whose publishers are the very successful Joffe Books; his series is set in Glasgow and features Lola Harris. A chat with Daniel led to his contributing some thoughts to this blog on the perennially teasing subject of plot twists. Here is the first part; the second will follow in due course:
'My
publisher likes to stress the twistiness of its authors’ crime novels. Straplines
on the covers of my first three thrillers declare each to contain a ‘massive
twist’ — so the pressure is on!
I love a
twist, but have begun to think carefully about how they work — those reveals or
inversions that lie in wait for readers.
As a starting point, I think it’s fair to say that twists fall into two classes: those that are internal or ‘intrinsic’ to the story; and those that are external, or ‘extrinsic’.
An intrinsic twist surprises or shocks the characters in the story as much as it surprises the reader. Most traditional (and older) crime stories fall into this category: Christie’s Crooked House (1949) and The Mousetrap (1952) are examples of genuinely astonishing intrinsic twists. The breath-taking twist became her speciality. As Robert Barnard pointed out in A Talent to Deceive (1980), ‘ . . . she is the despair of later crime writers: because she dared to think the unthinkable there is no trick in the trickster’s book, it seems, that she hasn’t thought of first.’
An extrinsic twist is a more modern (or should that be post-modern?) development. This type of twist isn’t so much a surprise reveal for the characters in the story, as for the reader. Indeed, sometimes the characters in the story already know everything, and the reveal is only for readers. An excellent example of this is Barbara Vine’s A Fatal Inversion (1987). Another, in film, is M. Night Shyamalan’s Sixth Sense (1999). Most often the withholding to achieve this kind of twist is done using the ‘unreliable narrator’ device (as in Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl (2012)) but this can be frustrating for readers and lead to ‘sameness’ or even a perception of cheating. See Marian Keyes’s eloquent take down on Twitter/X last summer.
Unlike the intrinsic twist, the possibilities of the extrinsic twist seem endless. I’m sure we’ll see more twists that lie in how stories are told — some of which will thrill us, others which might prove irritating.
I’d argue that Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (1926) is a fine example of a crime novel that features an effective intrinsic twist along with the most famous extrinsic twist of all. Thanks to excellent alibi-making, the characters in the story are as surprised as we are when the killer’s identity is revealed (well, maybe the characters aren’t quite as surprised as us!).
What’s your favourite twist in crime fiction?'
As a starting point, I think it’s fair to say that twists fall into two classes: those that are internal or ‘intrinsic’ to the story; and those that are external, or ‘extrinsic’.
An intrinsic twist surprises or shocks the characters in the story as much as it surprises the reader. Most traditional (and older) crime stories fall into this category: Christie’s Crooked House (1949) and The Mousetrap (1952) are examples of genuinely astonishing intrinsic twists. The breath-taking twist became her speciality. As Robert Barnard pointed out in A Talent to Deceive (1980), ‘ . . . she is the despair of later crime writers: because she dared to think the unthinkable there is no trick in the trickster’s book, it seems, that she hasn’t thought of first.’
An extrinsic twist is a more modern (or should that be post-modern?) development. This type of twist isn’t so much a surprise reveal for the characters in the story, as for the reader. Indeed, sometimes the characters in the story already know everything, and the reveal is only for readers. An excellent example of this is Barbara Vine’s A Fatal Inversion (1987). Another, in film, is M. Night Shyamalan’s Sixth Sense (1999). Most often the withholding to achieve this kind of twist is done using the ‘unreliable narrator’ device (as in Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl (2012)) but this can be frustrating for readers and lead to ‘sameness’ or even a perception of cheating. See Marian Keyes’s eloquent take down on Twitter/X last summer.
Unlike the intrinsic twist, the possibilities of the extrinsic twist seem endless. I’m sure we’ll see more twists that lie in how stories are told — some of which will thrill us, others which might prove irritating.
I’d argue that Christie’s The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (1926) is a fine example of a crime novel that features an effective intrinsic twist along with the most famous extrinsic twist of all. Thanks to excellent alibi-making, the characters in the story are as surprised as we are when the killer’s identity is revealed (well, maybe the characters aren’t quite as surprised as us!).
What’s your favourite twist in crime fiction?'
Favourite twist: "Who Killed Baker?" (Edmund Crispin and Geoffrey Bush).
ReplyDelete(Continued from the above)
ReplyDeleteWhich is, of course, extrinsic.
I didn't know that story but read it last night. You're right - it's all in the telling and the perspective (through the window). Really interesting. Thanks.
DeleteThanks, Nick. That is, I agree, a really nice one.
ReplyDelete