But there are certain literary failings that crop up over and over again (in novels, that is) and regularly annoy the hell out of me. For instance:
- Endings that leave half a dozen plot strands unresolved. I mean, whatever happened to Wendy? Did she finally leave Tom or did they kiss and make up? And whatever happened to Sophie? Did she ever kick her heroin habit?
- A constant parade of uninteresting minor characters who're instantly forgettable and add nothing to the plot. Why not leave them all out?
- A plot so complicated and full of twists and turns that it's impossible to keep track if you have a poor memory and an IQ less than 250.
- A pretentious writing style that equates obscure words and references with literary merit and equates simplicity with lack of imagination.
- Numerous flash-forwards and flash-backs that leave me thoroughly confused and wondering which day or year or century we're currently in.
- Stories told by several different narrators which never quite come together and leave gaping holes in the plot that nobody ever explains.
- A book that would have been perfect at 300 pages, but the author thought it needed another 200 pages to do justice to their literary brilliance.
- Astonishing coincidences and lucky breaks that miraculously save a character from a sticky end. The unexpected £50,000 inheritance from a long-forgotten aunt or the sudden discovery of an identical twin sister living in Sidcup.
Still, these habitual flaws are all part of the package. Something as complex as a novel is bound to go astray somewhere. A novel perfectly written, perfectly plotted, and easy to follow, has probably never existed, and never will.
