Generic Novel Troping
There are basically two types of fantasy/SF novels (with, admittedly, an infinite variety of tweaking capable of connecting the types) such as this. One is the sort that takes place in a completely created universe that has no relation to our world. And the other, of course, isn’t. Of the tweakish sort is that type which is set in an imagined world, but allows for things like earth-based proverbs and idioms. For the most part, however, if you come across imagery like this particular example, you generally can recognize that one is reading a fantasy/SF novel set in the world we know, even if under less than recognizable circumstances:
“In the winter when the temperature dropped swiftly she was sometimes startled by the sound of ice freezing with a sharp cracking noise like a rifle retort. This Thanksgiving night—if nothing more unusual or horrible happened—would be quiet. It was too late in the year for tree toads and locusts and crickets. They might hear a few tired leaves sighing wearily from their branches, or the swoosh of the tall grasses parting as a small nocturnal animal made its way through the night.”
Pure Imagery
Most of the time, imagery is used as a tool to enhance other literary techniques. Every once in a while, however, one comes across a passage that is simply imagery and little else. With a little luck, there will be some contextual stuff around it—either leading into it or leading out of it—but there are some writers who simply leave you gasping at the aesthetics. Fortunately, this example does come equipped with context but you will have to discover that for yourself. For the moment, just wallow in the ability to write descriptive prose that is the equivalent of Zep’s most famous song: interesting imagery and not a whole lot more:
“And then a dazzling star turned its back on the dark, and it swallowed the dark, and in swallowing the dark it became the dark, and there was something wrong with the dark, as there was something wrong with the light. And it was not good. The glory of the harmony was broken by screeching, by hissing, by laughter which held no merriment but was hideous, horrendous cacophony.”
Almost Pure Imagery
In counterpoint, here is an example where the author almost comes close to once against serving up pure imagery but delivers just enough expository information within the passage to at least give one an idea of what might be going. It may not be entirely clear, but at least it one make some semblance of sense. Consider it the “Kashmir” to the “Stairway to Heaven” of the above example.
“Charles Wallace continued to gaze upward. He focused on one star which throbbed with peculiar intensity. A beam of light as strong as a ladder but clear as water flowed between the star and Charles Wallace, and it was impossible to tell whether the light came from the piercing silver-blue of the star or the light blue eyes of the boy. The beam became stronger and firmer and then all the light resolved itself in a flash of radiance beside the boy. Slowly the radiance took on form, until it had enfleshed itself into the body of a great white beast with flowing mane and tail. From its forehead sprang a silver horn which contained the residue of the light.”
“At Tara in this fateful hour”
The repetition of the phrase “At Tara in this fateful hour” several times over the course of the first twenty pages of the book becomes an effective example of a different sort of imagery. It begins slowly, as barely mumbled words which produce a look of perplexity from one who hears. The second instance goes unheard. The third time it is said almost in a frenzy of anger at the inability to recall what comes next. The fourth reiteration kickstarts the recollection and the full poem is eventually recited, revealing in the recitation its origin with Irish poet James Clarence Mangan in which Tara is equipped with a superfluous “h” at the end. But how is its imagery connected to the story and the context? That is the secret which must be discovered by each reader.
