I was reading a general-audience history book last week, and found myself shouting at the book every time the author described the smell of the air or the glint in someone’s eyes. You weren’t there, man! Don’t pretend you were there!
At one point, he described everything some guy passed on this one walk in 1920s Chicago, and at first I thought, well, maybe this guy kept a really intense diary. But then the guy in question was shot dead.
If you lie to me about the pangs of hunger some guy felt in passing a donut shop, how do I know you aren’t lying to me about everything else?
I have quite a few literary pet peeves, but the fun thing about pet peeves is they’re personal, the things that probably only bother you and a few other people.
So I want to hear some of yours. Let’s gripe away in the comments section!!
Do not give me details that do nothing to forward the plot, aren’t indicative of character, and are not beautifully written. Example from a book I was reading: two tense people pull up to a police station. Then: “He unbuckled his seatbelt.” The book doesn’t seem more “real” by bland writing flat details of living. Then: “He opened the door.”
No! Now I’m vaguely wondering whether seatbelts are part of the plot (answer is no) and worried that all these details (which would be in the stage directions, I guess, if this were a play) are going to continue. He raised the sandwich to his mouth. He took a bite. I shut the book.
Descriptions of eye color. Unless someone has an especially unusual eye color, I cannot tell you the color of anyone’s eyes except my family members and that is because my kids want to know why they didn’t get green eyes like me. I tried y’all.