Was there not a relatively famous novel (so famous that I can’t remember the title! :smack:) where it was revealed only in the final paragraph that the first person narrator was a woman?
One writer in my writing group had a book where it was casually revealed, about halfway through, that one of the main characters was black. According to the author, this was intentional, and meant to make the readers think. “I never explicitly called any of the white characters white. Why should I explicitly call the black character black? Why, when presented with a character whose race isn’t specified, do we automatically make the assumption that he’s white until told otherwise? What does that say about us?”
That, at least, was what she was hoping readers would think about.
Yeah, I kinda figured out that fiction is not real life. Thanks for the reminder.
In this instance, I am unfamiliar with the book the OP is alluding to. MAYBE if I’d read it, I’d have found myself thinking “You’re right- the nose ring was kind of an odd thing not to mention earlier.”
But the fact remains, times have changed. Fifty years ago, if a teenage boy wore shoulder length hair, that told us something about him. Forty years ago, if a teenage boy wore an earring, that told us something about him. Today? I see kids every day with hair of every possible length, and boys with all kinds of ear piercings. And TODAY, that tells us practically nothing about a kid. A kid with a buzz cut could be either a jock or a gay bohemian. Same with a long-haired kid. Same with a kid wearing an earring.
So, a young adult book in 1967 that failed to mention a boy had long hair until page 171 would have represented bad writing. A young adult book in 1977 that failed to mention a teenage boy wore an earring until page 171 would also have represented sloppy work on the author’s part. But today, hair length and earrings tell us almost NOTHING about a teenage boy’s attitudes, temperament or lifestyle. So, I wouldn’t necessarily find it jarring if an author didn’t tell me until page 171 that Kevin wore long hair or that Chad wore an earring.
Similarly, in 1987, if a girl sported a tattoo, a belly button ring or a nose ring, she was making a statement, and people could rightly make some judgments about the kind of person she was. Back then, if Judy Blume had waited 100 pages to tell us that Heather had a rose tattoo, a pierced navel or a nose ring, she’d have goofed big time. She’d have failed to give us a big clue about Heather’s personality.
But in 2017, telling you that Jessica (a real student in one of my Econ classes) has a pierced nose reveals almost NOTHING about her. It no longer tells you “She’s a rebel” or “She’s a punk” or “She’s a free spirit” or “She’s from the wrong side of the tracks.” So, if I gave you a lengthy description of her, then only mentioned her nose ring casually later, I wouldn’t necessarily be misleading you or doing you a disservice.
The specific writer the OP refers to MAY have done a terrible job. But I don’t concede automatically that a nose ring is a vital detail that had to be introduced early.
Yeah, I’m not seeing the problem, but I am one of the people who never really visualizes someone completely at all to begin with. In fact, sometimes I’ve generated a sort of supposed look for a character in my head and later on the author mentions his “hook nose” and that didn’t match. Well, whatever. I don’t care - he still doesn’t have a hook nose, because I don’t want him to. And that’s also part of the beauty of what you can do imagining a character. She can still not have a nose ring if you don’t want her to. It really doesn’t matter with trivial matters like that. I imagine you’re so caught up in it because you ascribe so much meaning to it personally based on your own biases, and essentially, well, you wish she didn’t have it.
It’s different with larger indicators that would greatly transform how you approach passages, like maybe sexuality or race, but even that can be unimportant. There’s many stories I’ve read that never mention skin color, and of course people assume “white” much of the time, but there’s also no reason not to assume “brown”. And it doesn’t change the story either way if it never becomes a subject of the plot.
This is the problem: the author can’t have it both ways. If one of the protagonist’s attributes is notable enough for one of the author’s characters to comment on it, then it’s notable enough for the author to inform the reader of it relatively early on. If the author’s characters either don’t notice it or don’t care enough to comment, then the reader doesn’t need to know either.
But the author has to choose. Which way isn’t important, but one way or the other.
I live in Austin- here, an aspiring chef with a nose ring would barely be noticed, let alone commented on. But if a story is set in a place where such a thing stands out and might affect your chances of getting a job, it should have been mentioned much earlier.
I had no trouble with him being black, and promptly forgot. So I completely missed the significance of the child he carried back to Titan. The whole conclusion of the arc of the main character, and how he broke tradition with his family, was lost because I missed the significance of one word in the last sentence!
Ah, see, this is an unfortunate turn of phrase; I might actually have some eye-related defect which your joking would cause pangs at. I do, but it doesn’t, so you’re in luck.
Anyway, that said, the problem for me is that it would need to be more than a couple of lines, and to me going through all of them would be a lot more jarring of an experience. You could do everything at once, but then at best you have a well-written list. You could spread it out early on in the book, but then it’s an extended meeting sequence, plus the reader’s wondering why some of these things weren’t noted the first time. I don’t deny your jarred feeling, but I think this is the kind of problem where solving it for you would cause problems for someone else.
