Author: Kit10

Book Reviews, Read This Not That

Read This, Not That: Presumed Innocent vs. Innocent

Kit10
Harrison Ford fans and Bibliophiles of the ‘80s are likely to remember the suspense that captivated Presumed Innocent readers and moviegoers alike: Who is Rusty Sabich really–other than the district attorney accused of murdering his mistress—innocent victim of a frame-up? roadkill on the path of political ambition? or an insider working the justice system in his favor? With the release of Innocent, a sequel, Scott Turow wants us to reconsider these questions anew when Sabich’s wife dies suspiciously. Read This, Not That asks, should we take the bait?
 

A comparison of Presumed Innocent with its sequel raises issues intrinsic to most sequels: the obstacle of reader expectations and the risk to both writer and reader of disappointment or even backlash against the original work. A good sequel allows readers to reconnect with characters and recapture the feelings and reading experience they had originally—but in a completely fresh, new way. With a book like Presumed Innocent, readers are bound to expect surprises and shocking plot twists from a sequel, but how can such twists possibly have the same impact if they are anticipated? What follows are ways a writer might handle the challenges of sequel writing as well as the particular choices Turow made.

Solution 1: Change Main Characters/Narrator (aka The Cop-out)

While there may be some instances when a sequel can benefit from a change in narration or character emphasis, readers are picking up a sequel in large part because of an interest in the original protagonist. When writers employ this solution, it often comes across as laziness and laziness tends to be pervasive, popping up in other aspects of a novel as well. Thankfully, Turow does not fall into this trap. In Innocent, focus diverted from Rusty is minimal and purposeful.

Solution 2: Delay a Sequel (aka The Lollygag)

If a sequel comes out long enough after the original, there’s a good chance readers will have forgotten aspects of the first. It could mean less direct comparison and less chance for disappointment but it also could mean no comparison at all if the audience has forgotten so much that they fail to pick up the sequel at all–a plus for readers but a headache for publicists. Turow’s long twenty-three year wait before producing a Innocent risks the latter and likely prompts some to wonder if this return to his Most Valued Protagonist after so much time is a sign of the creative well running dry. For readers, however, the lag time is fairly insignificant. Innocent can successfully stand on its own as a novel, having ample but not annoying references to the plot of its predecessor. In fact, there’s an interesting parallel in that the MVP has aged too and the publishing delay supports this feeling of time gone by.

Solution 3:  Change the Formula (aka The Master)

The idea behind this solution is that whatever strategy worked for an original novel can’t be outdone. In this case, Turow can’t outsurprise his readers. Of course changing the thing that predominantly hooked readers originally risks turning them off. This is where Innocent falls a little short. Both novels employ the same strategy: they purport to reveal the prime suspect’s guilt or innocence upfront and then proceed to slowly put doubt in the reader’s mind about that supposition until the truth is so muddy that either outcome is plausible.

When a sequel like Innocent can stand on its own, does the original become irrelevant to unfamiliar readers? As someone who has read the original novel, I’m afraid that my own bias affects my choice this week. If you can read only one, read this, not that.

THIS                                                THAT

On Publishing, On Writing, Views

Books Without Borders

Kit10

Don’t believe it when they say you need to live in New York to work in publishing.

Last year I lived in an abandoned bus in the Alaskan wilderness, enrolled at Hogwarts, and lead a barnyard coup. I saw Boo Radley and spurned the richest landed gentleman in Derbyshire. This was not merely a hobby. I was following the career advice I received from young adult author Norma Fox Mazer: “Read, read, read. Reading and writing go hand-in-hand.” Books are my passport and therapist, flooding my apartment and keeping me up past my bedtime. Jon Krakauer may have little in common with Jane Austen, but the one constant I find in books is the power of their words to incite change. My goal is simple: tap into this power and leave the world better than I found it.

Unfortunately establishing clear goals doesn’t necessarily create an open path towards accomplishment. During New York University’s Summer Publishing Institute, for example, everyone warned me that New York City was the only place to work in publishing. On behalf of my beloved Midwest, I felt a little indignant. I set out to prove them wrong, first in Milwaukee at Hal Leonard, the world’s largest publisher of songbooks and music texts and now by working in Lincolnwood for Publications International, which produces over 500 titles annually.

Although I’ve been writing since before I could form letters (when my patient mother would transcribe my story “The Monster at the End of the Book”), being published seemed an unattainable dream. Sure there were minor victories along the way: literary magazines, pitching and acquiring my first books for a publisher, even meeting the president of Costa Rica after winning a political essay contest held in his honor. Still, I couldn’t ignore the odds.

My expectations changed in April of 2006 when Publisher’s Weekly announced a new novel by A. Manette Ansay with a premise strikingly similar to one I had been plotting for years. I was beginning to think like a published writer. Perhaps it isn’t unrealistic then to expect that I can become that author instructing young fans to “read, read, read.”

I’d like the opportunity to try the roles of writer, editor, and teacher. I firmly believe that working as a writer makes a better editor and as an editor, a better writer. My participation in publishing from brainstorming to bookstore expelled that fantastical notion of the lone writer spinning gold from straw, and the fact that I was able to participate from the Midwest further dispelled the New York myth. Where else can books take me, and where would I be without them?