Taking Moral Solace from Fiction
Why does a reader read? Last year at a writing conference in Toronto, Kathryn Kuitenbrouwer spoke about the reader's need to find moral solace in a work of fiction. Recently reading Annie Dillard's inimitable description of the writer's life, I came upon the reciprocal notion: the writer writes to express the same thing.
Currently I am both reading the novels of Elizabeth George and watching the Inspector Lynley DVD series. Observing how such TV shows seem to grow ever more graphic and violent, I wondered what the lure was. And what was I getting out of these gruesome films?
The primary satisfaction, I decided, was to watch and applaud character development. Watching Inspector Lynley and Sergeant Havers get stretched wide open by their experiences, I hoped that I too was being forced to grow beyond my fears and prejudices.
Every fiction writer knows the basic rule. Show your protagonists no mercy. Keep turning up the heat if your want the reader to keep turning the pages. After all, these aren't real people.
Still, after watching two episodes of Inspector Lynley on each of two consecutive evenings, I had to ask myself again what I get out of these crime stories. The answer? When the story works out satisfactorily, and the characters learn and grow, what I feel is a sense of moral solace.
The ancient Greeks had it right had it right with their idea of catharsis. Mysteriously, the vicarious experience of theatrical characters' suffering does cleanse us, refresh us, give us hope.