Plot,
one might say, is the chronological sequence of events in a story, and the story itself is
how, and in what style, those events are revealed to the reader. Harry Rowohlt,
the German critic, author, and translator (and translator of my books), says
that plot is the least necessary element of a good book, and cites my work as
an example: "Sex, Gott, Alkohol und
Irland, wenn das nicht Handlung genug ist," says Harry, re: the Killoyle trilogy
("sex, God, alcohol, and Ireland, if the plot alone isn't enough"). True, I incline more to this
attitude, as would most "literary" writers, as opposed to those who
crank out thrillers, because so many of the latter, even the better ones, are
written by rote, as it were, according to a formula that can sustain a series
for years, as with Mickey Spillane's Mike Hammer, or Conan Doyle's (infinitely
better) Sherlock Holmes. Yet, even in the arch-literary world of Proust and Joyce,
plotting has its place. Indeed, at a seminar I'm giving later this month at
Western Connecticut State University in Danbury, I'm planning to cite my own
dear Great Pint-Pulling Olympiad, a
novel supreme on style and characterization (if I may be permitted such
immodesty), as an instance of a well-plotted satirical thriller in which the
plot may be buried deep within the story, like power lines in an upscale
neighborhood, but it is nevertheless an essential, integral part of the novel. (Other,
better-known examples of satirical thrillers might be Catch-22 and Fletch and
nearly all the films of Alfred Hitchcock.) It's just those who are can't or
won't emphasize style, atmosphere, and character, but adhere rigidly to
formulaic plots, who give the impression that the plot must be paramount and
that the rest is all fancy hooey. Not so. "Plot," says Thomas Berger, a satirist of
near-genius (Crazy in Berlin, Little Big Man, Neighbors, etc.), "is something I have never given ten seconds’
thought to throughout my career. Such plots as I use have developed
organically, as it were, from the style." In fact, Berger's novels are
among the most ingeniously plotted I know, but you hardly notice, any more than
you notice Pepe Romero's fingering technique when he's playing a lovely piece
by Tarrega or De Falla. That's the art of it.
