Barno's Stables

On the Paul Harland Day last Saturday, one of the topics tackled in the panel was that of originality. Should a writer always strive to be original? Should the story always reinvent the genre it belongs to? Is a newly invented subgenre more valuable than the next Tolkien or Gibson imitation?

The answer was—and is: worry about a good story first, writers, and about reinventing anything much, much later. What matters is that the writer writes the story he/she believes in, cannot help but write. If that’s taken care of, originality becomes moot, because when the story is truly the writer’s own, it always offers something new. Even if that something new is hard to pinpoint.

Which brings me to today’s topic of discussion: Perpetuum Mobile by Robin Booiman. If originality were the Holy Grail of writing, one would simply write off this haunting tale with reference to the Spielberg masterpiece Duel. But that, in turn, was first a story by Richard Matheson. Tell me, where does the search for originality end?

So let’s first judge this story on its own merits, and notice that it’s fairly haunting, capitalizing nicely on our fear of darkness and loneliness. It rolls along with smooth prose, conveying a nightmarish sense of inescapable doom. Perhaps the ending could have be less neat, allowing for a grittier aftertaste in the reader’s mouth. But all in all, a well-told tale.

And I maintain that the story works because the writer didn’t worry about imitating Duel; he had this story to tell, so he told it, and told it well.

This is part 4 of of a five-part series on Paul Harland Prize 2012 stories that I especially enjoyed, in no particular order. All they have in common is that they went on to be finalists in the Paul Harland Prize 2012 (and as such judged by the final jurors), and that I liked them.

Please note that these remarks reflect only my private opinion. I am in wholehearted agreement with the final line-up, the selection of winners, and the ranking of the finalists as the jury determined it.

Time to give some attention to the awkwardly titled story 51° 30′ 17.6″ N, 3° 28′ 59.2″ O 51° 30′ 20.7″ N, 0° 04′ 32.3″ W by Hein van der Schoot. This story is a good example both of what a writer can achieve through echoing content in form, and of how much a writer can get away with if the story itself is good.

In <Coordinates>, as I resorted to calling it, a new ice age—of perhaps even the end of the world through cold—is developing. Our protagonist decides to strap on his ice skates and traverse the frozen North Sea to England. His personal reasons nicely complement the external factors.

But this is not why the story stood out for me. What tickled me in this case was the rhythm of the prose—slow and steady, switching between two storylines on a regular beat—echoing the long, regular strokes of the long-distance ice skater. This makes the story almost a song or a poem, and adds a powerful non-verbal factor to its emotional impact.

For me, this aspect amply compensated for the uneven editing, uncertain grammar, and confused metaphors that would normally kill a story’s chances on the first page. Only goes to show that most so-called rules can be broken with impunity, if your storytelling is good enough.

This is part 3 of of a five-part series on Paul Harland Prize 2012 stories that I especially enjoyed, in no particular order. All they have in common is that they went on to be finalists in the Paul Harland Prize 2012 (and as such judged by the final jurors), and that I liked them.

Please note that these remarks reflect only my private opinion. I am in wholehearted agreement with the final line-up, the selection of winners, and the ranking of the finalists as the jury determined it.

Next up: Trollen vangen met Max en Leendert (“Catching Trolls with Max and Leendert”) by Kees van Houte. Now some would argue that TvmMeL is not a good story. Technically, they would even be right. Does it have literary sensibilities? Not in the least. Are its characters three-dimensional and well-developed? Not at all. Does it bring a deeper layer of meaning to the reader? Huh, what?

But people, look at the title! Going into the story expecting any of these things is self-deluding. This is an unashamedly silly story, devoid of pretense, promising humor, slapstick even, and delivering on that promise. TvmMeL is intentional, succesful slapstick the way Peter Jackson’s Hobbit isn’t; funny the way Dutch sitcoms aren’t. It has energy, tempo, and a consistency of voice that is rarer than you might think.

Trollen vangen met Max en Leendert didn’t change my life, it didn’t alter the way I think about the world; it didn’t move me to tears. It did, however, make me chuckle in the quiet compartment of my morning train, causing annoyance among my fellow passengers, which is arguably another way of making a difference.

In other words, it tickled me.

This is part 2 of of a five-part series on Paul Harland Prize 2012 stories that I especially enjoyed, in no particular order. All they have in common is that they went on to be finalists in the Paul Harland Prize 2012 (and as such judged by the final jurors), and that I liked them.

Please note that these remarks reflect only my private opinion. I am in wholehearted agreement with the final line-up, the selection of winners, and the ranking of the finalists as the jury determined it.