Narrative scope and insularity and Laura Powells Burn Mark

Laura Powells recently released Burn Mark is a book that seems to tick all the right boxes. The premise is solid and intriguing, the world-building is rich and believable, and the characters realistic.

And yet I found it disappointingly bland. Perhaps its that my paranormal palate has been overwhelmed over the past few years. Perhaps Im just a grumpy old contrarian. But somehow, I simply couldnt muster up any enthusiasm for this one. The writing slouches along, placid and lazy and dully matter-of-fact, the characters undergo exactly the type and degree of change expected from the outset, and the plot is a commuter train making its way from one end of the line to the other exactly as detailed by the conductor.

Our setting is an alternative London where witchcraft is very much alive, and so too is the Inquisition, its purpose being to identity, monitor, police and punish witchkind. Our two key players are Lucas Stearne, son of the Chief Prosecutor of the Inquisition, and who learns that not only is he a witch, but an immensely powerful one; and Glory Starling Wilde, a tough-girl witch from a mafia-esque coven. The two, as you might imagine, find themselves working together, and in doing so discover a shocking series of betrayals and lies.

Its a case of narrative predestination, and its proof thatfor this reader at leasta tightly honed, carefully layered plot can undermine a story. Everything slots in so tidily together that its like an epic jigsaw puzzle. Unfortunately, one persons tidy plotting is another persons narrative restrictiveness, and the latter was the case for me. When everything is so neatly foreshadowed and the characters roles are so tidily telegraphed its easy for a narrative to feel as though it cant possibly go any other way.

I was chatting with a romance author the other day about maintaining interest and suspense when the end of a novel is known to the reader, and she noted how its a delicate balance to push the boundaries while still working within a given formula. This one, I couldnt help but feel, never quite pushed those boundaries. It relies on the depth of its world-buildingwhich is admittedly impressiveto carry it, and I couldnt help but feel that the rest of the novel wasnt quite there. Its a novel thats competent enough, but whose purpose I cant quite fathom. I had a similar reaction to Julianna Baggotts Pure, which though beautifully written and thoughtfully explicated feels more like an exercise in setting than anything, and I wonder whether its a result of authors brainstorming dystopian-esque what if scenarios.

I think a lot of my qualms here have to do with scope and also with narrative insularity. During my recent reading of Mary Hoopers Newes from The Dead, I found myself objecting to a certain plot point at the end that felt as though it had come out of nowhere. And yet, this event actually occurred in real life. But its not, as one might think, a case of fact being stranger than fiction. Rather, its to do with the scope of the story and what readers have been conditioned to expect from a book. The plot point in the Hooper would probably have been perfectly acceptable had the books scope been expanded to offer some reason or motivation for its occurrence. But real lifeupon which the book is baseddoesnt allow for that. Real life is all about messy boundaries and unknowns. Things do have reasons and motivations. We just dont see them, because theyre beyond the scope of our experience or knowledge.

My initial misgivings over the Hooper made me consider just how much readers are conditioned to accept logic and narrative containedness in their reading. In todays fiction (the final extent, obviously, varying depending on genre and target audience) it seems that everything has to be telegraphed, because everything that happens in a book has to able to be saliently determined from prior informationwe need to be presented with all of the facts. In few books outside the mystery genre have I found this more clearly than in Burn Mark. My copy, in fact, is bristling with post-it notes highlighting references to items or information that will clearly come into play at a later point in the book.

Curiously, the result of this for me was a book that left me feeling underwhelmed. Not because it wasnt competentits a solid enough book, after allbut because I felt as though I was never being tested as a reader. I never felt unsafe, or curious, or lost, or challenged. I felt rather as though I was a tourist on a bus being told what was what and what I should photograph. And I think the perfect tidiness of this book is what resulted in this being a less than memorable read for me.

With thanks to Bloomsbury Australia for the review copy

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