Listening to <em>The Gabbler</em>

Some interest has been expressed in the reasons for my posting the second chapter of The Gabbler's Testament rather than the first. I was being honest when I mentioned that I prefer Chapter Two and feel that it is more representative of the book, if any single chapter can do such a thing. Chapter One establishes the basic premise for all that follows and it is written in a straightforward narrative style, very different from the dreamlike, heroic style of Chapter Two.

To understand why the book is written in three different styles, it is necessary to know how it was written and why. Like all books in the fantasy genre, it begins with Mr Tolkien.

The Lord of the Rings is unquestionably the origin and giant of the explosion of fantasy novels over the last fifty years. Without this one book, it is extremely doubtful that fantasy would be a genre at all. Tolkien establishes the ground rules and dictates that every subsequent fantasy writer will be measured against him. The problem is that no-one has even approached his mastery as yet; fantasy has one towering genius and the rest is rendered inconsequential in comparison.

I first read The Lord of the Rings in the early sixties. It was not a major influence on my own fantasy world; that had been building in my head for at least ten years beforehand. But it did introduce me to the idea of writing the stories contained within my world. Over the next thirty years I made several starts on the major opus, Yffi's Saga, but was never happy with the results. I am ever mindful that it is Tolkien that I have to beat.

That may seem a high ambition indeed but, for a fantasy writer, there can be no other goal. Who writes to be second class in any genre? This is reinforced in fantasy by the execrable nonsense that has been churned out in the name of the genre since the sixties. It really is time that we had some fantasy literature written rather than the puerile rubbish that lines the bookshelves at the moment.

This was the driving force behind the writing of The Gabbler. I wanted to read good fantasy but it seemed that only garbage was available. In the end, I realized that, if the kind of books I wanted to read were ever to be written, I would have to do it myself. I sat down once more, determined to write.

A strange thing happened then. You will think I am crazy but I must say it because it is true: a voice began to speak in my head. And I wrote down what it was saying. I understood the background but did not write it; only what the voice was saying went down.

It was the Gabbler who was speaking, I knew that. And he dictated what became the original document, also known as The Gabbler's Testament, that became the basis for the book. My problem was that the Gabbler was uneducated and spoke in simple and rough words. He was interesting for short periods but became mind-crushingly boring after a while. Essentially, he was an old man recounting his life story and we all know how tedious that can get. It became clear that I was going to have to alleviate the Gabbler's incessant droning by telling the story that occasioned the document. And it was the scribe, Dorvett, who was the obvious vehicle for this. He was the one who transcribed the Gabbler's words so meticulously; he was the faceless one who provided the silent half of this conversation. His story needed telling too.

So now I had two styles: the raw and coarse style of the Gabbler and my own narrative style for the telling of Dorvett's story. That was fine until I ran into Chapter Sixteen. It opened up a whole new ball game.

Chapter Sixteen tells of the Gabbler's woman. It is derived from the Gabbler's account but had to be much more if the full effect were to be communicated. The Gabbler was unable to put into words the enormous emotions inherent in his tale and his speech becomes halting and almost incoherent at this point. This had a powerful effect upon Dorvett, who had the man's presence to add to the words, but to a reader it would seem garbled. I had to step in to give the full impact of the story.

Here was born the third style: a mythic, heightened form of reality, filtered through the memory of an old man and the sensitivity of a young scribe. It is a romantic view of the past containing truth but exaggerated in color by the emotions of the narrators.

This third style became my solution to several long and interminable sections of the Gabbler's account. I went back and replaced his worst pieces with this more colorful style. And Chapter Two is one of these. Now, perhaps, it becomes clearer why I prefer this chapter over Chapter One.

This whole business of three totally different styles must surely be a recipe for the death of a novel; it is hard enough to write a decent novel in one style without setting oneself so impossible a task. But, as I have explained, it became necessary. That is how the book had to be written or it would never have been a book at all. Editors can like it or lump it for all I care.

And now to the matter of beginnings. Janus has mentioned the opening lines of The Hobbit, the famous "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit." That's a snappy entrance, I must admit; it raises questions immediately, such as "what is a hobbit?" and "why did he live in a hole?" The Gabbler begins with: "It was dark in the cell when Dorvett first entered and it took a while for his eyes to become accustomed to the gloom." Not as snappy perhaps but containing as many questions, I think.

I would agree with Janus that The Hobbit was intended to be a kids' book, but feel that this gets lost along the way. Tolkien couldn't help it; he became involved in telling the story and forgot who he was writing for. By the mid point of the book, he is writing well above most kids' level. I think this was accidental but it actually reflects the opening of Bilbo's eyes to the greater world beyond the Shire. As his innocence is destroyed by knowledge, so the writing becomes more sophisticated. This also allows it to blend into the far more complex writing of The Lord of the Rings.

As for Tolkien's writing itself, I think that it is not unassailable. It is quite stilted in parts and often needlessly detailed (the poetry is atrocious, of course). Where he scores is in his specialty: linguistics. His construction of several languages for the various races within his books gives his writing a feel of authenticity, something that any fantasy writer should strive for. He also has a mastery of time and seasons that again adds to the reality of events. But his geography is awful; there is no reason for his placement of mountain ranges and rivers, vegetation or climates, beyond convenience for the story. And this erodes the authenticity that he has created in other ways.

So Tolkien can be beaten and one day he will be. I do not think that The Gabbler's Testament will be the one to do it; but the intention is that Yffi just might...

For those who are interested, there is an account of Yffi's finding of The Gabbler's Testament here.

Tags: Fantasy; Writing; Tolkien; LOTR.