I first read NOTB about twenty years ago - and was confused by it, too. Mostly entertaining, but…something was “off” about the whole thing. I re-read it a couple of times (with essentially the same result) and eventually decided I was simply missing the point. Then, about a decade or so ago, I ran into an interesting USENET commentary (reprinted at the Heinlein Society). Take a look - it might make NOTB more comprehensible (or at least less disconcerting).
I started reading this and I agree that it’s overly padded. The dialogue is especially histrionic.
I’ve read the essay. I don’t think it’s completely accurate – it talks about the Guys in Black constantly coming in and upsetting things to move the plot along. I think that happens once. I found NotB a major disappointment – it was the first “new” Heinlein I’d read, and it has long boring chunks where the four major characters discuss protocol and abdicate command of Gay Deceiver to each other. I’d love it if a Man in Black came along to upset things then – but he doesn’t. The book is a major mess, and I put it down to the man’s being not well when he wrote it.
I’m a big fan of Stephen King’s stories, but I have a really hard time reading many of his books. I get much greater satisfaction listening to unabridged audiobooks of King’s work.
Joseph Heller’s second novel, ‘Something Happened’, is almost entirely about nothing happening, which is the whole point. It is almost all padding, but in a typically Helleresque way it prompts the question: if a book is all padding, then surely none of it is padding?
You are now my hero. Thank you.
My point (earlier) was that what WE think of as padding was NOT necessarily thought of as padding in earlier times. I don’t like the definition of “padding” as “anything that doesn’t further the plot.” There’s scene-setting, which really isn’t “padding.” There’s description of characters, weather, mood. There’s simply commentary. Take something as wonderful as Dickens’ opening of A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” A modern reader would call that “padding” and probably skim over it very quickly. And yet, it’s one of the most famous paragraphs in literature, and I find it brilliant.
I’m certainly not trying to compare Robert Jordan to Robert Louis Stevenson, but I don’t think it’s fair to dismiss anything not plot-related as “padding.”
I understand a man named Simon Morgenstern wrote a book that was maybe ninety percent padding, ten percent story. Or seventy-five/twenty-five. I’m not real sure, because I’ve never actually seen the unabridged version. Most parts of the abridged version are pretty good.
Yeah, I get it. As mentioned in a recent thread, I’m reading the Gormenghast Trilogy, by Mervyn Peake. These books really take the concept to an extreme. But he pulls it off with such flair and artistic writing that you forget that the few discrete events in the story could be adequately summarized in a few pages.
As someone mentioned in my thread, you don’t really follow that story as much as you sink into it. This is absolutely true, and the experience is thoroughly enjoyable.
Yes, I’d point to Gormenghast as the perfect example of padding that isn’t padding. That whole series is nothing but atmosphere. I’m a little alarmed at how many of the books in this thread I’ve read. Some I’d agree with - Mission Earth is the worst pile of shit ever to stain perfectly good paper - and some I wouldn’t.
I’ve only read Treasure Island but I found it to be one the fastest paced stories I had read in a long time.
About a year ago I was at the library and Pamela Dean’s Juniper, Gentian, and Rosemary caught my eye. I decided to check it out because I’d read and DISliked her best-known novel, Tam Lin, because I felt it was way too padded. But since several people I knew had loved Tam Lin and I felt like I’d have enjoyed it if it weren’t so freaking padded, I decided to give Dean another chance.
She didn’t deserve it.
Juniper, Gentian, and Rosemary is the most thoroughly padded book I’ve ever read. It’s got a tidy little short story’s worth of plot with 200+ pages of padding in the middle. I am not exaggerating at all. This book is about 350 pages long. The supernatural/fantasy plot is set up in the first couple of chapters. Then there’s chapter after chapter of the pretentious and unrealistic young heroine’s day to day life, INCLUDING HER HOMEWORK, until about page 300 when the supernatural plot thread suddenly reappears. Then there’s a few dozen pages of “Oh no, what’s going on?” and the whole thing is wrapped up quickly and rather nonsensically in the last few pages.
Certainly the Twilight books, which I read on a dare, and of which I probably ended up reading only about a third of the content.
In The Adventures of Peregrine Pickle, by Smollett, the middle third of the novel is some crushingly boring society gossip completely unrelated to the plot, or even the characters, of the rest of the book. Apparently, though, this was the biggest selling point of the book when it was first published, but now it’s just dull.
That’s my feeling on it too. I only recall there being two “Black Hats” in the entire story, and never actually worked out why they were regarded as such a threat (besides a propensity for car-bombs). And a flying car that is repeatedly stressed to be NOT A SPACESHIP, yet which can somehow fly to Mars was confusing. Why not just call it a spaceship and be done with it, instead of stressing its limitations then magically (literally!) solving them much later in the book (without really using the solution to its full potential, either)?
To put it another way: When I finished reading the book, my wife asked me what it was about. And my honest answer was “I don’t know. Something about cross-dimensional travel and why naturism and insta-marriages to people you’ve just met are the premier lifestyle choices of the future.”
I think it can be taken as read that “Historic” novels (ie, those written in The Past) can be safely exempted from the “Padding” accusation because that’s just how they were written (and because they didn’t have TV or the Internet, lots of things we’re familiar with had to be described to readers. We know what a Tropical Island looks like, but your average reader in 19th Century London probably didn’t and needed a bit more “colour” to draw the same mental picture that a modern reader can just from the mention of “Tropical Island”.
A lot of 19th-century stuff, and some early 20th-century, didn’t seem padded when it was published because it was serialized; no one had to read it all at once.
There’s also something to be said for the “slower pace of life” idea; perhaps when it took a week to get from one town to another, it seemed perfectly reasonable to take long orotund sentences to express a thought like “We should go this way” or “Don’t shoot!”
As for Cooper, I managed to wade through The Last of the Mohicans, and part of what kept me going was the grim fascination of seeing how much time and verbiage could be spent on crossing a stream. But I wasn’t a quarter through before I was ready to take a skinning knife to Hawkeye if he commented on his own racial purity ONE MORE TIME. He might have been “without a cross” but he sure had a huge bug up his butt.
Let us not forget the repetition of describing Ayla going through the whole routine of “introduce the pet wolf to the nervous residents of yet another village” thing. The entire process described in every. single. village.
This is exactly what came to mind when I saw the thread title.
And her bona fides…to each and every person, even if they’re in the same conversation!
I’ve always thought The Scarlet Letter would have worked better as a novella. His short stories were surprisingly good. He ought to have stuck to that.