Monday, May 14: The Scribbler
WHAT’S IN A GENRE?
by James Lincoln Warren
To most people, the term “genre” implies a certain formulaic content: chick lit, mystery, science fiction, romance, historical adventure. But the word was originally applied to reflect method, not content, and is still used so by students of literature: novel, short story, lyric or epic poetry, drama.
So the mystery short story belongs both to the genre “crime fiction” and to the genre “short story”. When I tell people I write short stories, I usually find myself basking in some small glow of admiration—some folks think that short fiction is inherently the most difficult form of prose to compose. (I can’t speak to that, because writing a short story is a much more familiar act to me than writing anything else.) But when I mention that I write mysteries, I occasionally detect a certain glazing of the eyes—“Oh. You’re a genre writer.”
Well, yes. Doubly so. And damn proud of it. All things being equal, the term “genre” is not a value judgment, you see. Just because I’m telling stories within a set of traditions and conventions doesn’t mean that what I write is any better or worse than stories that don’t adhere to those traditions and conventions. But I don’t just write genre fiction; I write eighteenth century historicals—at least most of the time. Not merely a genre writer, I am a subgenre writer.
A subgenre is a specialty within a more broadly defined content-genre. Short stories are richer than novels in representing them for a number of reasons. Generally an anthology, even a themed anthology, will strive for variety, so many more subgenre pieces will be gathered in one place. And also, I think that short fiction is less prone to trends and fads driven by bestseller lists, and so provides greater variety.
In crime fiction, some of the most common subgenres are:
Traditional: a ratiocinatory detective follows a string of well-concealed clues and assembles the solution at the denouement.
Contemporary British: the effects of the crime are more important than the solution to the crime.
Hard-boiled: a tough private eye on a piecemeal quest to uncover the truth via sheer persistence, encountering several very unpleasant persons, violent circumstances, and extremely attractive members of the opposite sex along the way.
Cozy: a subset of traditional, featuring an amateur detective, usually a strong-willed single female of a certain age, or possibly a cat. Violence is off stage. Sex is rare.
Historical: crime set against a background informed by historical events and conditions.
Noir: the protagonist, usually driven by some dangerous obsession, fights against a brutal and uncaring world, and tragically fails.
Contemporary noir: usually a story in which the protagonist is a vicious criminal; frequently features themes of betrayal, vengeance, and brutality, but also applied to any story that involves alienation and graphic psychosis.
Whodunnit: a traditional mystery in which the detective solves the clues to determine the identity of the criminal.
Howdunnit: a traditional mystery in which the detective uncovers the means of how the crime was committed. A special case is the locked-loom mystery.
Cat-and-mouse: you know who the crook is; the mystery is in how the detective brings him to justice.
Police procedural: generally featuring an ensemble cast with a lead character, the actions follow the police as they work their case.
Woo-woo: investigation of a crime with supernatural elements, involving a psychic detective together with various appurtenances of the occult such as Tarot, channeling, astrology, etc. So-called because of the plaintive cries traditionally attributed to ghosts.
Thriller: (1) an innocent person is sucked into deadly intrigue and must survive by his own wits, (2) a story featuring global stakes, (3) a ticking clock, or (4) involving the specifics of a learned profession such as medicine or law.
Caper: the preparation and execution of an ornate crime, frequently humorous.
I could go on, but I won’t. I want to hear from you, instead.
And while we’re on the subject of reader feedback, take a look to your right, and in the sidebar you’ll see a new and exclusive Criminal Brief feature, Instant Reviews. This is your chance to let us know all about the stories you especially like. Click on the “Write a Review” link and you’ll see what I mean.
This was so perfect for a friend of mine who recently got rejected by an agent because she was told that her story wasn’t a cozy because the MC wasn’t a quilter, gardner or knitter – go figure. But now at least she can confidently say she has a mystery series that falls into a subgenre, not necessarily cozy, but still a mystery nonetheless.
Thanks for doing this and thanks for adding the review areas – E
I wish the terms “genre” and “subgenre,” as well as those you defined further, would only be used for clarity in discussion. To me, what’s so annoying is that they are now used as a kind of marketing shorthand that encourages lack of thought.
Okay, I’m about to go off here — but I see a real trend in the effort to commoditize (I hope that’s a word. You’ll correct me, James, if it isn’t.) thought. An example is in the comment above mine. The writer says that her friend’s work was rejected because it wasn’t a cozy. Did the editor or agent consider the quality of the work itself?
It’s convenient to simply stop thinking once something has been labeled. That’s the irritating underbelly of your insightful and informational piece.
Pari,
I don’t believe the agent considered the quality of the work at all. That is why I was kind of appalled when this was an agent I had referred my friend to because I really felt her series was a match to the group (I’m thinking she may have sent to the wrong agent in the group and should have sent to Jacky instead of Jessica) after meeting several of their mystery authors who have published cozies where their MCs are not knitters, quilters or gardners (The Levenes come to mind with their Nascar series that just came out – they are considered cozies but their MC is not any of the above – lol)
So it just goes to show that regardless of what defines a certain genre, everything is still subjective in the eyes of the beholder – whoever holds the rejection letter gets the last say – lol – E
An RWA editor acquaintance (who insisted I should have had her proof my first column before posting it!) has contributed a couple of ideas toward genres.
First, I’m given to understand, genres and particularly sub-genres slip in and out of style. CSI and vampires come and go.
Second, editors raise an eyebrow when writers DON’T focus on a genre but dash out stories across the literary map. According to a Kensington editor, that’s seen as lack of focus, a fragmenting of the writer’s energy.
“Commodotize” is a perfectly good word, coined in 1979.
I cut down my post considerably from its original draft, and one of the things I left out had to do with naming and labeling. Naming is the ultimate human activity–it’s how you take the specific and concrete and provide it with a general and abstract reality.
The key here is that theory follows practise, not the other way around. Agatha Christie writes about a little old lady detective, and is broadly imitated. Somebody notices this growing body of stories with similar conventions, and sticks the label “cozy” (named, by the way, for a “tea cozy,” since the type when it was conceived was felt to be veddy British and tea cozies were seen as veddy British, since Americans drink coffee) on it for convenience.
People who like stories about little old lady detectives start using the label among themselves. People who don’t like little old lady detectives start using the term derisively. A subgenre is born.
There is nothing wrong with using labels as long as you understand that the label arrived after the body of work it is applied to, and so does not define the body of work, only describes it. The agent as described was using the term as a strict set of guidelines, which is balderdash.
In any case, such labels have no value whatsoever in determining merit. Being cozy is neutral. There are good cozies and bad cozies.
Agents who write rejections are famous for not telling the truth all the time about why they reject submissions. This is because they don’t want to be inflammatory. It’s kinder to say, “This book doesn’t meet my criteria for the following technical reasons” than “You have no talent.”
But sometimes agents don’t get it, either. My historical novel was rejected by one agent on the grounds that it was “too authentic”. I imagine what he meant was that he found the language old-fashioned, difficult to understand, and stuffy. I guess he wanted my 18th century characters to talk like contemporary characters, which would have completely defeated the purpose in writing a historical to begin with.
I think all these pigeonhole names should be trashed because so many books don’t fit neatly into any of the categories. When I started writing my first novel I never once stopped to say—hmmm—I’m going to write a crime novel in the (whatever) subgenre. I particularly dislike “chick lit.” I think it’s demeaning.
I hate it when anybody says something good “transcends the genre”.
Oh, and Patty, I disagree with you that “chick lit” is demeaning. Actually, it’s downright insulting.
But most of the other labels can be quite useful, especially when shopping in a bookstore. If a customer says she likes contemporary noir, a knowledgable clerk is unlikely to recommend the latest Joanne Fluke. But the labels should never be taken to be rigid.
In any case, all the different labels illustrate exactly how broad the field of crime fiction really is.
Jim, you wrote: ‘I hate it when anybody says something good “transcends the genre‒. Boy, that’s sore point for me.
This all reminds me of Kurt Vonnegut’s line, which I am probably misquiting;: “I wouldn’t mind being put in the drawer labelled science fiction if so many critics hadn’t used that drawer as a urinal.”
Like JLW, I’m very proud of being part of the mystery and crime fiction world. Unlike JLW, I’m not comfortable with the genreization (Jim, I know that’s probably not a legitimate word, but you know what I mean, a literary Balkanization) of mystery/crime fiction.
Having said that, I’m not above using genre and subgenre labels. Like Patty Smiley said, it’s pidgeonholing. It’s a form of stereotyping. I don’t like it, but it is convenient, and I’m often guilty of it.
An interesting observation: the word “genre” comes from the Latin “genus,” so is akin to “genetic” categorization. The closest relationship to another word is another French derived word: “gender.” How’s that for a bender.
Yup, Steve, you’re right, “genreization” is not an actual word.
I only object to coinages that serve no purpose, ugly neologisms that combine two words (like “sales-a-thon”), or to using old words to mean something they don’t, so all is forgiven. You might even be on to something–but I think I’d spell it “genrization” and leave out the “e”.
In the meantime, may I suggest “compartmentilization” as an alternative?
–Sergeant Warren of the DCPD
Dear James,
I find your article to be highly informative and there-fore stimulating.
While I have been (and am) trying to develop my writing as hard-boiled amongst many other things I find that I have not yet found my voice so to speak or is that one simply continues to develop at various and different levels and in so doing is redefining voice?
During a Criminology course some years ago, I discovered I liked Police Procedural – or perhaps I always had? However, I also enjoy the host of other sub-genres and find more often than not that they sometimes roll into one or at least are inter-related…. I don’t have any real literary understanding of Cozy or Noir althoughI recognise Noir when I see it of course..I wonderhow to write it…
I was more recently introduced to Ficto-criticism and transgressive writing…which were part of a the structure of a programme I was doing.
I suppose what I am trying to say is that I would like help in the writing of Mystery etc. In real life I am like a dog with a bone when it comes to solving actual mysteries/crimes although I have not yet mastered the art of streamlining narrative and I think that part ofthis is that I am never sure what others – more adept in writing Short Stories et al – expect of my writing.
The Best,
Jane
I actually don’t mind the labels. I read cross-genre and cross-subgenre but in my heart of hearts, I gravitate towards a good traditional mystery versus thriller or even noir. (But then my favs–Walter Mosley and Chester Himes–are considered noir, right?) I think that the labels are helpful in establishing some expectations for the reader. I read a thriller for different reasons than I read a cozy. I think that some authors have a greater facility for writing action sequences while others have greater skill in tackling characterizations, emotional heft, etc. As writers, we should write to our strengths and one skill is not necessarily better than another.
Cozies seem to receive the most derision at certain mystery conventions but they are probably among the most popular subgenres in our field.