The Good Novel vs. the Great Novel: Guest Blog--Meredith L. Dias

I am very excited to introduce our guest blogger today. Meredith Dias is a close friend of mine, and I am grateful for the privilege of knowing her. She is an editor for Sourcebooks, Inc., a major independent publisher based in Naperville, Illinois, but, in addition to being an exceptional editor, Meredith is also a fabulous writer. She has had three of her articles published in Random Acts of Malice: The Best of Happy Woman Magazine, a trade paperback anthology of articles satirizing women's magazines and she also wrote the 2007 and 2008 "On This Day" desk calendar for the History Channel and A&E, respectively. However, with her talent and insight I expect to see much more from her in the future. Meredith graduated summa cum laude with a B.A. in English from Quinnipiac University in 2003, she is married and has two adorable cats. In her free time she loves reading, promoting cult awareness, hiking, Asian cinema and the Boston Red Sox.

Her first e-book, Periphery, is set to be launched next month and after reading a sneak peek of it, I know that all of you are going to want to read it as well. Her story will emotionally draw you in right from the start, with characters that you won’t soon forget, and I’ll be sure to announce it when the book is available. You won't want to miss it!

The Good Novel vs. the Great Novel
by Meredith L. Dias

When Julie asked me to make a cameo on the Six LDS Writers blog, I was both honored and intimidated. After all, I am neither Mormon nor much of a professional writer yet. However, when my mentor asked me to flash my literary wares on this blog, I decided to go out on a limb and hope for the best!

While discussing the craft of writing with other writers, the question as to what separates a good manuscript from a great one often arises. Millions of us aspire to be America’s next literary legend—the pipe dream is such a common one that I sometimes wonder if The Great American Novel will be the next hot talent show craze on Fox. I try to examine the question from the standpoint of a reader, not a writer: what is it that distinguishes my favorite novels from the ones that bounce painlessly off my grey matter, leaving nothing but a bad taste in my mouth?

For me, the answer lies in how deeply a writer is willing to probe into his characters’ respective psyches. Is the writer presenting a lazy, half-hearted cardboard cutout of a human being, or is he introducing us to someone within whom we see flashes of ourselves? As a reader, I want to feel a character’s ache in her chest as if it were my own, to fall in love with her love interest as deeply as she does. A good writer is able to tell a story about a given dramatis personae, but a great writer weaves an intricate psychological and emotional tapestry that makes us not only empathize with the character, but also care what happens to her.

A good novel adheres to the classical guidelines: continuity, pacing, character development, and smooth transitions. The story is compelling enough to keep the pages turning, and the story is punctuated with enough climactic events to make the ride exciting. However, the great novel appeals to us on a visceral level, calling upon the rawest of emotions and alternately dredging up pain and joy from the deepest hollows of a character’s soul. We feel the pivotal scenes of the story as knots in our stomachs or quickening heartbeats, rather than on a strictly cerebral level. Beyond that, we look up from the page and half expect the character to be sitting there in the room with us, watching with something resembling bemusement as we dive into their most private depths.

I suppose that, at the end of the day, a great novelist is willing to become more emotionally involved with the characters and story. Plot-driven novels will sell copies, and most of us revel in reading them—sometimes in one or two sittings. However, it is the character-driven story that remains with us long after we close the book for the last time. We remember Anna Karenina for her brazen, entitled persona and Eugene Onegin for being the quintessential “superfluous man” in Russian literature. Long after we forget the details of the storyline, we can still feel these characters within us. In some respects, they become part of our own identities, and we find ourselves reciting their noteworthy lines in everyday conversation.

What distinguishes between a good novel and great novel for you? I would love to hear everyone’s input on this.