As I type this, I’m puzzled how to begin. The point of this post is that Vanish (and many other Christian thrillers written in a similar style) just isn’t scary enough. The thing that baffles me is that many other bloggers on the tour have stated that Vanish ought to be classified as horror because it is so frightening. But I didn’t find it frightening at all, and I’m wondering how to put my thoughts into words. I have a feeling that nobody is going to agree with me on this. Oh well. ;)
First off, I liked Vanish. The characters interested me. I wanted them to understand about God and be restored, and I was mildly anxious about their futures. But was I scared? Did I ever feel goose-bumps on my arm or a chill going down my spine? Did my heart ever race with suspense and anxiety over what would happen next, whether they would survive? When the moment of revelation came, and Hell itself was revealed, and Conner literally wavered on the brink of damnation – did I feel horror clutch at my throat?
Nope.
Maybe I’m just jaded? No, that’s not the reason. I hardly ever read thrillers or watch “scary” movies. I don’t play violent video games that feature eerie military buildings resplendent with globs of gore sprayed across the walls. I can’t read Fox’s Book of Martyrs without feeling physically ill. I’m just not jaded.
Maybe I’m one of those people who can’t get emotionally involved in a book? Naw, that’s not it either. I’m not a particularly emotional person, true – but a lot of authors can get at my emotions and turn them in any direction. Take JK Rowling’s Deathly Hallows as an example. I sobbed when Dobby died, I sobbed when Harry met his dead parents, I was in mental anguish when he walked into the forest alone to meet Voldemort, I felt a thrill of horror along my scalp when he pressed the Snitch to his mouth and whispered, “I am about to die.” Several times throughout the book, I literally felt my blood racing with excitement and suspense.
Note, also, that Deathly Hallows is written in a contemporary and fairly fast-paced, easily-understood style. So it’s not that all modern styles of writing are “bad.” So what’s so terrible about Tom Pawlik’s style?
First, I’d like to clarify that it’s not just Tom Pawlik’s style. The style he employs is actually fairly common (it’s not the voice of an individual author) and seems to be pushed by a lot of publishers these days. Ted Dekker and Frank Peretti apparently write in the exact same style. Generally speaking, a lot of “thrillers” use this style, which is characterized by extremely short paragraphs and sentences, lots of quick, back-and-forth dialogue, sparse description, incomplete sentences, and cliché body-language speech tags (he nodded, shook his head, raised an eyebrow, narrowed his eyes, frowned, sighed – these are the most-cliché tags in Vanish).
It’s a style of writing that is deliberately “dumbed-down.” Generally speaking, books being published today are written at a lower comprehension-level than in the past. It’s a common problem in children and teen fiction, too. If you go through a writer’s course, your mentors will undoubtedly give you advice on how to write for readers of different ages. The three “older” groups of children/teen fiction are intermediates (ages 8-12), adolescents (ages 10-14), and young adults (ages 13-18). To quote an essayist in From Inspiration to Publication – How to Succeed as a Children’s Writer: Advice from 15 Award-Winning Authors, “adolescents read only slightly better than middle-graders,” and “young adults haven’t increased their reading skills much [more than adolescents]”.
In other words, a lot (not all) of stuff being written for 18-year olds is stuff that 8-year-olds could handle. The difference between a novel written for young adults and a novel written for intermediates is primarily one of content, not style or complexity. Writers are advised to keep their sentences short and simple, to put in lots of dialogue, and generally to leave intact as much white space on each page as possible.
What does this have to do with Vanish? It’s incredibly simplistic – more so than many other contemporary books that have already been criticized for over-simplified styles. And it’s not even a kid’s book. Ultimately, I think that this kind of advice merely hinders the author in creating a really gripping, eerie atmosphere. It also obliges the author to rely on cheap shocks and thrills that quickly wear off and yet are constantly repeated to keep the reader engaged.
Let me explain. The most frightening aspect of Vanish is what I like to call “facial-unzipping.” The characters have several face-to-face encounters with demons that are sexless, gray-skinned, and, at first glance, faceless. Then their faces unzip, revealing inky-black tongues, eyes “white” and “soulless,” and mouths dribbling with “tarlike saliva”. This happens about fifty times in the first five chapters alone. (Okay, slight exaggeration, but you get the point.) I’m supposed to be unnerved when it keeps happening? Overkill, mate.
The author relies far too heavily on these demonic creatures to create an eerie atmosphere – it gets old long before we reach the climax. The demons are the only “scary” factors of the novel, and the eeriness of their presence quickly fades to nothingness. They show up way too often.
Yet, given the excessively simplistic style employed in Vanish, what else can the author do to create suspense? He has nothing else to fall back on. See, the style won’t let him slow down for any reason. The main rule of this particular style is that everything must be choppy, fast, and action-oriented. You might think this would create suspenseful fiction, but I think it undermines the suspense and cheapens the horror. Here are a few reasons why:
Appropriate pacing helps you to create the right mood or atmosphere. If you use this style, you are forced to charge through every chapter at breakneck-speed. When a character is absorbed in sad memories, however, it’s useful to slow down, using longer sentences and lingering over certain details. When a character is getting chased by demons, on the other hand, it’s useful to speed up and use quick, snappy sentences. If you use a fast pace throughout an entire book, you can’t speed up to heighten the tension when a character is in danger, because you’re already going at a sprint.
Furthermore, a slow(er) pace in the hands of a competent author can often be used to create an intensely eerie atmosphere or event. It gives you the chance to pause and linger over what, exactly, is so eerie, and does not force you to state it baldly, bluntly, without subtlety. This technique is not available to those who use an overly simplistic style.
Also – Pawlik’s style is ill-adapted for serious introspection. Why does this matter, and how is it relevant to my point? Quite frankly, some of the freakiest, most fascinating passages ever written in literature are purely introspective. But the style of Vanish doesn’t allow it more than a couple of extremely short paragraphs at a time. Consequently – to give an example – we would never get to see Conner really grappling with the spiritual side of things the way Ransom agonizes over it in Perelandra. To really dig into a person’s thoughts – to see how they try to ward off the inevitable conclusion in a subconscious attempt to deceive themselves – to gradually view that person realize a terrible truth – to see them fight against it, panicking, agonizing over it, and finally accepting it – this takes too long. If an author attempts to write such a scene in this style, he is forced to limit this to a couple pages while adding lots of short, back-and-forth dialogue and making sure the paragraphs don’t look dense and keeping the sentences short and tidy. The narrator really isn’t allowed to get into a character’s head for more than a few sentences at a time. The style calls for constant movement, action, conversation. It doesn’t allow a character time to actually stop and think.
There are several times in Vanish where serious introspection would have served the author well, since the characters are ultimately grappling with spiritual forces. You don’t need the threat of immediate physical danger to create suspense, but if you throw away the tools of your art, that’s all you have left to work with – and I think this is what happened in Vanish. There’s nothing wrong with putting your characters in real danger – I love it – but if that’s all you’ve got, you’ll end up sounding like a broken record that keeps repeating itself.
I could go on and on – but by now you probably just want me to shut up! So, I will. I’ve been on the computer too long now anyway – my brain feels like a soggy wet noodle. However, I just want to say that I don’t think Vanish is “stupid” or Pawlik a poor author. Vanish is a fun read, and Pawlik is talented. He really made his characters come alive. I just think he used the wrong style.
