When Less is Not Enough
- Ishmael A Soledad
- 3 days ago
- 4 min read
I’ve a great admiration for Japanese authors. Not because I have any Japanese heritage or feelings of deep admiration for the Japanese (regardless of my belief that the sushi you find in their train stations and 7-Elevens outshines the best in any Australian restaurant; or my love affair with my first three sports cars - one 240Z and two 260Zs) but for the exquisite technique of less-is-more in their writing. All the novels I have read have this sparse, utilitarian approach to prose that at first is easily mistaken for shallowness but soon reveals itself to be precisely designed, exquisite economy to challenge readers to look beyond the words on the page to what is not there to gain real depth.
It works well for the Japanese, whose culture (in my limited experience) relies more on understanding what is not said or done or asked rather than what is; but can it work in a Western context? Now, dear reader, you’re probably screaming “of course!” at me and quoting various works that carry it off to perfection, but there’s a huge caveat that is blindingly obvious: your readers must be in on the game. If they know it is the writing style you’ve adopted then all well and good, but woe betide you if they don’t. As I learned.
In 2019 I wrote a very short (290-word) science fiction story entitled Wood For The Trees where I tried to emulate the Japanese works I admire. Few words, rapid delivery, make the key elements disappear into gaps for the reader to discover. It, as I am sure you have discerned, bombed. Not from the publisher’s perspective (it has appeared twice in online zines and is part of my "Sex and the Single Cosmonaut" anthology) but from the reader’s. The only reviews ever received for my efforts complained I had no idea about current car design or Australian cities, and perhaps knitting was a better use of my time.
I’ve copied the full story below. Have a read, stick with it, and make up your mind. What’s it about? What’s at the heart of it? What was deliberately left out? Then read my closing comments:
Wood for the Trees
Daniela leant over the rail, gazing at the room full of machinery. She squeezed the nape of her neck, grinned wryly then turned. “That’s it, Ted, shut it down.”
“Sorry, I thought we finally had it.”
“It’s just science, some theories are right, some are wrong. Shame this one’s taken thirty-nine years.”
“You lasted longer than the rest.”
“You mean they’re quicker than me? Yes, maybe I am too stubborn.”
“What now?”
She shrugged. “Mark it all for scrap, clear it out before the charges pile up. Everything else can wait.”
***
The night traffic was light, freeway in front empty, Melbourne’s lights fading slowly behind. Always the same, as it ever was and, she knew now, as it would always be. The headlights swayed gently in time with Benny Goodman. She turned the radio up. I need a holiday to clear my head, perhaps Europe or the States. A week or two in the air, evening deck promenades over the Pacific, the whisper of silk through air, the clink of champagne flutes at five thousand feet. The clipboard slid across the bench seat, tapping her thigh. Four billion people don’t know how hard I’ve tried, nothing’s changed for them. She lifted the clipboard, sent the litany of failure spinning out the window into darkness.
***
Daniela pulled into her driveway, turned off the car, letting the night envelop her. What was the old saying, the end of a thing is better than its beginning? Whatever. She got out, leant against the ’19 Bel Air’s fins and gazed up. The twin moons shone down, scudding silver-blue discs shepherding iridescent rings across the heavens. Perfect as always. Daniela sighed, finally smiled. Why did I ever want to change it anyway?
END
It is a very simple story, a reality-changing experiment that worked and worked well. Too well, in fact. Daniela changed the world to the way she wanted it, brought back a few key icons of the past, and did it all so well, so subtly, that the world didn’t even know it had changed - and that included her. Far from being a failure, it was a magnificent, unparalleled success that even she was unaware of. And that, my friends, is my cap-doff to the Japanese method of leaving out the crux of the matter in a story.
But, as I’ve mentioned, it bombed. So for me, the key lesson was simple. Most readers aren’t at the point where the missing elements become the blindingly obvious. So, respect your readers for sure, but don’t assume they know more than you, or even as much as you, or understand your style. Subtlety is, as I found in my professional life, generally wasted on the uninitiated.
But there’s a postscript. It was translated (with a few tweaks for geography and minor character details) into Japanese and made it into a small distribution, hard-copy Tokyo only, science fiction monthly magazine - and received great reviews from readers who understood.
Another lesson here: choose your target audience wisely.
Comments