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From the Camp

Lady Blade |
Spolier Alert!
By Elaine
Isaak
©2008,
New Hampshire
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My closer reading of Tolkein's prologue for the previous
article gave me pause to consider the variety of ways that
fantasists provide information about things to come: titles,
visions, dreams, curses, prophecies, prologues, ancient lore and
visitations from deities —to
name a few. Why do we use these devices and what results do
they yield?
Prophetic moments may be as simple as a character warning the
hero that he'll regret taking a certain action, or they may be as
elaborate as a look into the Mirror of Galadriel: requiring a
seer, a mystic setting, a special device or ritual, all
deliberately devised to produce a glimpse of the future. The
idea of prophecy is so associated with fantasy literature that it
appears in the number one entry on the Grand List of Fantasy
Clichés (one version at)
http://amethyst-angel.com/cliché.html.
If ambiguous, and they generally are, these moments serve first
of all as fore-shadowing. They create not only a sense of
suspense on behalf of the reader, who knows something of what will
happen, but not what or how, but also may retrospectively become
the guideposts that all line up from the standpoint of the
surprising, yet inevitable, conclusion. "I should have seen
that coming! After all, the witches foretold that Birnam
Wood should come to Dunsinane!" In order to be effective at
this task, the prophetic words must be either absurd or apparently
insignificant.
If detailed and clearly significant, they provide a roadmap of
the Hero's Journey —giving
the characters as well as the reader something to worry over and
to aim for. But watch out! This is also an area where
fantasy, and epic fantasy in particular, receives harsh criticism
for the use of "plot coupons"—collect
them all and win a prize! This concept even has its own
Wikipedia entry. A prophecy should not be simply a shopping
list, or a "Dora the Explorer" map where all can be made right by
following the directions and checking off as you go. One of
my favorite uses of this approach is Tad Williams' "Memory,
Sorrow, and Thorn," in which the plot-coupon style prophecy,
supposedly handed down long ago, is actually a ploy to get the
heroes to give the villains what they need.
Dream as prophecy can fit either category (ambiguous or
detailed). The human desire to believe in the prophetic
unconscious encourages us to include dreams: even Fiddler on
the Roof uses this desire to believe when Tevya invents a
dream in order to convince his wife to change their daughter's
betrothal. Dreams can carry great weight in some settings
and cultures, and they may be the best way to insert your
prophetic inclinations, if your particular world puts special
weight in the nature of dreams. Dreams are, by nature,
insubstantial, so be wary of basing too much plot development on
them, or using them too frequently outside of the framework of
religion or established belief.
Until recent history (and still in many places), dreams and
curses were believed to have great power. The former
revealed the soul of the the dreamer, while the later could have a
literal effect on the cursed individual, requiring him to go to
great lengths to lift the curse or abandoning him to suffer the
consequences. People might refuse to associate with the
bearer of a curse, and some forms of curse carried greater
significance (that of a woman scorned, someone on a death bed or
about to be executed, etc) In fiction, you may choose to create a
world in which curses are a form of magic. Or, as I did in
The Eunuch's Heir, they may be spoken by a
individual with prophetic abilities, less as a statement of intent
than as a supposed revelation about the nature of the cursed one.
Titles are a special form of prophecy communicating directly
between the author and the reader. They take place out of
the frame of the narrative. For a first novel, the title
intrigues the reader enough to pick it up. But subsequent
books in the series build upon the reader's knowledge of what has
gone before, and his expectations for this and future books.
Hence, titles like Katherine Kurtz's King Javan's Year
immediately set up a red flag for the reader that young Javan will
not only become king, but that his reign will be brief. It
builds in a certain amount of tension before the reader has even
opened the book. S. C. Butler's Queen Ferris
has a somewhat different effect. Ferris, a major character
in the first book, is also not even close to being a queen.
Butler then plays with the expectations set up by his title to
increase the reader's interest and keep her guessing about the
outcome.
That idea of reader expectation is key. It's part of a
larger concern referred to as the Contract with the Reader:
through various means your work immediately sets up the reader to
be looking for certain things. Some of these expectations
are genre based (i.e.: if it's romance, it has a happy ending; if
it's fantasy, it contains magic). Note that these
expectations can be violated or subverted, deliberately if you are
aware of them, willfully if you reject them, and foolishly if
you've never considered them. Williams' use of prophecy
subverts expectations in a way that the reader can enjoy, being
startled, but, one hopes, not feeling betrayed. I'll talk
more about the Contract in a future article; in relation to
prophecy, the main point is to consider how to use the prophecy to
increase suspense rather than slavishly pursuing the expected goal
in the expected way.
Some fantasy works incorporate the notion of prophecy either
into a magical system, or into a particular race (elves) or
character (fortune-teller) who have the capability to see the
future. The author often includes the caveat that these are
visions that MAY come to pass, or that the future is always in
motion. In Gail Carson-Levine's Fairest, a
recent version of Snow White, the race of gnomes are gifted with
foresight, and use it, among other things, to settle court cases.
The participant in the vision may, however, reach a crossroads
before the foreseen moment occurs, and thus create a different
path.
I think these limiting factors are an attempt by the modern
writer to negate the idea of fate, and leave the power of choice
in the hands of the protagonist who must still work hard to
achieve the desired/prophesied goal. The trouble is that the
world of a novel is ALWAYS to some extent deterministic:
you, the author, are in control of the fates of the characters.
You create and destroy them, you send them in particular
directions. No matter how three-dimensional they are and how
alive they seem inside your mind (and the mind of the reader) in
the end it is the author, not the character, who chooses how
things play out.
This creates a tension between the author and the narrative, as
well as between the author and the reader. We want the work
to be vivid, seamless, all-encompassing so that the reader forgets
for a time that it's only a book, and that the author is pulling
the strings. The blatant use of prophecy can make those
strings obvious, causing the reader to abandon the work in
frustration, unable to believe the characters are masters of their
own lives. However, it can also be a way to comment on our
own beliefs about religion (pre-destined fate versus free will),
personality (nature vs. nurture), and the ability to escape
what appear to be limiting attributes (birth order, class
structure, racial or personal characteristics).
And these, of course, are some of the great questions fantasy
is specially suited to explore. One of the themes present in
many fantasies is the power of the individual to overcome his or
her situation to achieve a dream, and properly used prophetic
moments can provide the needed spur to action that creates a
compelling story.

Buy a copy of Elaine's novels,
The Singer's Crown,
and
The Eunuch's Heir,
from your nearest bookstore today!
You don't want to
be her hero!
~ Elaine Isaak,
New Hampshire ©2008

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