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by John M. Floyd

If there’s one question about writing that seems to come up over and over again at meetings and blogs and conferences, it’s this one: what’s the difference between genre fiction and so-called “literary” fiction? We’ve wrestled with it several times here at Criminal Brief too, but it’s been a while since our last column on that subject.

On the surface, the difference seems pretty simple. Genre fiction, also called commercial fiction or popular fiction, deals with (insert drumroll here) . . . genres. Western, romance, sci-fi, mystery, horror, etc. Literary fiction has free rein, and focuses mostly on emotions, relationships, and the human condition. Because of that, the conflicts in literary stories are more internal than external.

Other litmus tests come to mind: genre fiction is entertainment- and action-driven, uses simpler language, and often features a definite and clear ending; literary fiction is illuminating and character-driven, sometimes uses more sophisticated language, and might have an unresolved and therefore thought-provoking ending. And there’s the character-arc issue too – the hero/heroine of a genre story (James Bond, Nancy Drew, Indiana Jones) is pretty much the same person at the end of the tale as he or she was at the beginning, while a literary protagonist (Tom Joad, Scout Finch, Nick Carraway) usually undergoes a profound psychological change in the course of his or her “journey.” And so forth and so on.

(A quick word about the vague and overused term “character-driven,” when used to describe literary fiction. It might be more accurate to say that characters in literary stories are generally more interesting and compelling than their plots, while in genre fiction it’s the other way around. If any of you have thoughts regarding that, I’d be pleased to hear them.)

Between the Hook and the River

I think one way to illustrate the difference between the two types of fiction is by using examples. The first is a Hemingway short story called “Big Two-Hearted River.” It’s about a guy who heads out into the woods, makes camp, fishes for trout the next day in a stream, catches a few, cooks them, thinks awhile about life in general, and that’s that. There’s plenty of symbolism, in that the flowing river is a metaphor for the relentless passing of time, etc., but there’s not much of a plot. Nothing really happens. The main character and his internal thoughts and struggles are more important than his actions, and that’s a hallmark of literary fiction.

On the other end of the spectrum is a story that I’ll call “The Hook,” although I doubt it ever had a name. It’s just a tale I heard when I was a kid at school, about a teenaged girl and boy who go out on a date while there’s a psychotic killer on the loose who has only a meathook instead of a right hand. Remember that one? The two students park in a deserted lot, and just as they get down to business they hear footsteps in the dark right outside their car window. Spooked, the boy starts the car and roars away, spraying gravel. No longer in a sparky mood, they drive to the girl’s house, the boy gets out and walks around the car to open his date’s door . . . and finds a hook hanging from the doorhandle. This silly but memorable story still gives me goosebumps, and I think it’s a good example of genre fiction: what the people are doing and what happens to them is more important than who they are and what they stand for. Characterization is minimal; plot takes center stage.

All of us tend to gravitate toward one or the other of these two types of fiction. I like both, now and then, but I write more genre stories than literary because that’s what I usually prefer reading. That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the litmag protags of Pat Conroy and John Cheever and Annie Proulx. I do. But I probably read more Lawrence Block and Robert B. Parker and Carl Hiaasen. And I sure have a lot more copies of Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine lying around than copies of The Atlantic Monthly. Which of the two types of fiction do you prefer to read, and write?

The Washed vs. the Unwashed

Another point: many critics seem to believe that the gap between literary and genre is always huge, and compare it to the difference between Rembrandt portraits and stick-figure drawings, or symphony concerts and hillbilly hoedowns. What they don’t mention is that the two sometimes mix and overlap, and when that happens the result is better than either extreme. I think an example of that kind of hybrid is To Kill a Mockingbird, which is both literary and genre. On the one hand, it’s a courtroom/ mystery/crime drama — it even features a surprise ending — but it also teaches a “life lesson” via what the viewpoint character sees and learns in the course of the novel. Another example is Mystic River, which in my opinion is a literary story with a great mystery at its core.

It’s no secret that critics prefer literary fiction and the general public prefers genre fiction, and many genre writers are quick to defend their chosen field. Loren Estleman, one of my favorites, says in his book Writing the Popular Novel, “. . . If the word ‘literary’ raises its egg-shaped head, the manuscript is as good as in the return envelope. Literary novels (even when packaged as literary Westerns or literary detective stories) are perceived to appeal only to the university professors who write them.” And I believe it was Elmore Leonard who replied, when asked in an interview why his short stories had never appeared in The New Yorker, “My stories have endings.”

In closing, I think the best definition of literary vs. genre is one I heard in a YouTube interview with Stephen King. According to him, “Literary fiction is about extraordinary people doing ordinary things. Genre fiction is about ordinary people doing extraordinary things.”

Long live the Kingster.