As Much Time as Needed
From Safer, by Sean Doolittle:
“But Roger was the first to reach out,” he said. “The day Ben moved in, Roger and Wes came over, made Ben feel welcome. When Roger found out that Ben had played college golf, he went out and wheeled and dealed him some kind of VIP membership rate at the club.”
“No kidding.”
“Honestly, it always seemed a bit transparent to me. But not in a bad way. More like he was…I don’t know.”
Promoting a sense of solidarity amongst the troops, I thought. I said, “Leading by example?”
Michael touched his nose. Bingo.
“There was a time when I’d have found it demeaning. But that ship sailed long before I ever moved back to Clark Falls.” He shrugged as we turned up Wildwood Lane. “The fact is, I still love him for it. And he and Ben seemed to genuinely like each other, which frankly surprised me more knowing Ben than knowing Roger.”
“You’re right,” I said, almost wishing that I hadn’t brought it up. “I’m probably being an ass—”
“Now as me why Ben took the job in Seattle.”
I looked over.
“You’re supposed to ask me why Ben—”
“Why did Ben take the job in Seattle?”
“It’s funny you should ask,” Micheal said. “I’ll tell you why. He wouldn’t admit it if you asked him the same question, but I know it’s the truth.”
Friends who know my preferences for fiction would agree that I fit a type:
Most of the time, I want to read a high-stakes thriller. I’m a sucker for a Space Adventure.
These same friends would also say I’m stubborn:
All of the time, I demand thorough character development.
As I have become a more traveled reader, my demand for character has outpaced my want for thrill. This has caused (allowed?) me to engage with works by authors who, gasp, don’t just send a crew to space to fight a critical battle or show a lone hero fighting for their own survival (and of course keeping the Supervirus from spreading across the globe).
You can see these authors’ works in the history of this newsletter. I spot westerns, mysteries, personal reflections on war, children playing, marriages crumbling (or holding together), and the aftermath of dictatorial rule. I, now much more than in my past, look at how and why a character says something than I look at the fury of the environment that surrounds their statements.
As a result, when I do reach back to my old stand-by — action, adventure, lasers — I look at those works with new eyes. I expect more from them. And I believe I get more from them in return.
One of those standouts, self-proclaimed on its cover as a “novel of suspense” and hailed by critics as a “rip-roaring page turner” and “taut, claustrophobic thriller,” is Sean Doolittle’s Safer.
What Doolittle offers in his writing is a style of character development I don’t remember seeing in other thrillers.
He lets intent develop through words said and unsaid
He lets his characters be interrupted and interrupt others
He lets emotion build through the pacing of each scene
Most of all, he creates interactions between characters that last as long as they need to
Above, you can find all these elements within this walk-and-talk between Micheal and Paul, the narrator.
Intent
“Honestly, it always seemed a bit transparent to me. But not in a bad way. More like he was…I don’t know.”
Promoting a sense of solidarity amongst the troops, I thought. I said, “Leading by example?”
Michael touched his nose. Bingo.
Paul, a college professor, is more cerebral than brawn. You see this again and again across the pages of Safer.
Here, Doolittle shows how Paul’s mental process works in real time. Paul allows himself a full few seconds, it appears, to craft and disregard a possible statement.
He considers a serious interpretation of events he would need to own. Then by forming a question, he lets Michael take the lead.
Paul signals his intent to keep secrets but allows some people to peek into his reality. When Michael indicates his understanding, you know he was worthy of what was left unsaid — and I expect that Michael could have been thinking the same thing.
Interruption
“You’re supposed to ask me why Ben—”
“Why did Ben take the job in Seattle?”
Doolittle further builds Michael’s character here with a touch of the light-hearted.
Although ultimately the pair is talking about how Roger tries to control the workings of his neighborhood, they eventually need to take a breath between statements to compose themselves.
I laughed at this lame joke harder than I should have. It comes at the exact time it needs to.
Doolittle shapes Michael by showing his comfort in making jokes while also showing how cerebral he too can be. With this pause for the characters and for the reader, Micheal shows himself as the same type of person as his conversation partner.
They become equal in their understanding and their knowledge of the situation, so you can trust what they have said, what they held back, and what they will say.
Pacing
“It’s funny you should ask,” Micheal said. “I’ll tell you why. He wouldn’t admit it if you asked him the same question, but I know it’s the truth.”
Doolittle doesn’t let that breath last long, though. Only one statement later does Michael thrust these two back into the serious matter at hand.
The pair moves forward despite their little laugh from a moment before. Again, you get the sense that Michael and Paul are of one mind.
Paul was willing to ask. Micheal was willing to answer. Together, they paused then picked up the pace.
The Distance
Overall, I get the impression that Doolittle has no problem with letting scenes take their course no matter how much time it will take.
In a much worse version of this passage:
Micheal would finish his initial statement. Paul would be surprised at learning Roger did something nice. Micheal would launch into an explanation, using Ben as an example, about why Paul is probably correct to think that Roger isn’t everything he seems on the outside.
Doolittle, instead, lets the nuance of the situation permeate every part of this back and forth. Paul shows his curiosity and hesitance. Michael shows his humor and understanding. The two grow as friends and confidants.
You don’t get any of that with a simple Statement. Response. Statement. that moves too quickly back to the action.
This scene, like all the others in Safer, feels real. I can see the hesitancy in Paul’s face when he stops to think about what to say next. I can imagine Michael’s body language as he tries to make his joke land. I feel like I’m walking with them at the exact pace Doolittle wants us to walk.
In true “novel of suspense” style, I do get the sense that Doolittle has manipulated his reader. He crafted it well, and I’m happy to have stepped onto that well-made path.