In the second part of his series on on novels that shouldn’t work but do, Donald Maass continues examining the episodic novel. “Lacking an overt central conflict or problem, wandering around without any apparent plan through a grab bag of experiences, such novels ought to come across as mere chronicles; sophomoric swaggers around town held together—if at all—only by their own sense of self-importance,” he says.
But that isn’t necessarily true. Such novels can work when they contain elements creating a sense of unity of theme or purpose. In his earlier post, Maass identified a call to adventure, a promise of significance, and a strong protagonist as three such elements.
But those are mostly established in the early pages. What about the next few hundred? Maass identifies a few more traits:
- Going Out of Bounds. “To work, an episodic novel must first of all fulfill the promise it has made to us,” he says. A plucky protagonist is one method, especially one who isn’t afraid to break rules. “What better way for a novel to break rules than to feature a protagonist whose very intention is to be an outlaw, to be unconventional, to stay alert and to savor what is forbidden?” Maass asks. “When a hero or heroine isn’t ordinary, how can our reading journey be anything but extraordinary, as well?”
- Clowns, Lion Tamers and Tightrope Walkers. A cast of odd, eccentric, and colorful characters can also tie together an episodic novel. Michael Ondaatje’s The Cat’s Table, Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book, and Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five each feature quirky, memorable supporting players. “The point is, why simply have a cast when you can have a circus?” Maass asks.
- The Pieces and the Puzzle. Finally, Maass says a sense of meaning transforms single episodes into puzzle pieces that form a whole. “When every episode has a point and every eccentric character has something to show or teach a protagonist, then a novel’s puzzle pieces shoulder more than their weight,” he says.
