And by the way, the word ought ought to be used more often now that we are living in the oughties (or is it noughties?)

Vera wrote “instead of making it a truly life-shaking event as it ought to be…”

While I don’t think anyone else has pointed to this phrasing as troubling, I can’t help but feel that it lies at the root of the problem.

Thanks for bringing this up.

In fact a number of people have been bothered by my usage of “ought” because how dare I imply that things ought to be one way or another? (Or is it that they dislike stodgy vocabulary?)

When I say that sense of wonder should be “a truly life-shaking event as it ought to be” is somewhat like saying “I wish water was wet as it ought to be.” Because a great portion of what makes up wonder is a sense of the life-shaking and momentous. Without such, it will not be wonder but something else altogether. Even “quiet” wonder requires a heightening of awe and a profound moment of insight, and an internal explosion of meaning sinking in.

On the other hand, if people are not reading what is actually said but skimming with prejudice and extrapolating wildly, they are likely to assume I am implying that something else “ought to be” a certain way or another (and hence the “how dare you” conclusion and righteous indignation follows). Well, I am not referring to anything else here in that sentence (while this essay is about a number of points, this sentence is only about one). There is no proper logic that will immediately imply that oh, she is bemoaning the lack of sense of wonder, so necessarily she expects to have a sense of wonder every time she reads (I do not, I often read books for other reasons).

I dislike chick lit, depressing memoirs, social-experimenting speculative fiction, and a number of other genres, but I don’t don’t presume to know how they ought to be written. If a book immediately raises red flags on page one (as in Vera’s example) then perhaps that’s for the best. If the author’s handling of the subject matter displeases you from the get-go, put it down, step away, find a better book.

Personally I am with you, I dislike most of such books too (but always with exceptions for the truly well done). And that particular book with the fairy that I mentioned in the essay — I did indeed put it down and never made it past page one, and instead wrote the essay (and no, it is not DEAD WITCH WALKING and not anything else by Kim Harrison whose work I enjoy).

Let me reiterate here that I enjoy a whole lot of urban paranormal and urban fantasy in general (even though it’s not my favorite flavor of genre, I prefer “otherworld” fantasy), but there are times when a book one picks up is “stillborn” — it is lifeless from the first page on, which may not be the case for someone else picking up that very same book.

Thanks for raising valid discussion points, Michael.

In writing, I feel obliged to obsess about pacing when, doggone it, I want to look at the scenery. I want to inspect the strange car, the airplane, the B&B that always has the exact number of rooms for the current guest roster. I want to revel in the scene as my mundane POV learns to conjure butterflies and fairies. Instead, I write in apprehension of being passed over by an agent or editor for slow pacing. (But she did the butterflies anyway.)

Yes, we are very much in agreement- I must’ve misunderstood what you had originally said!