What's my New Year's resolution? Well, I'll tell you what it isn't. By Griselda Heppel.
A haunting atmosphere doesn't cover gaping plotholes. Chatting to a friend about books over Christmas, I mentioned that I rarely read modern literary fiction anymore. Not because I don’t love fiction – of course I do, I write it for children! – but because it’s nearly always a disappointing experience. There’s something about beautiful writing – the chief characteristic of literary fiction – that seems to give the writers a pass when it comes to plot structure. Or even believable characters. Instead, finely crafted, often poetic prose and the power to conjure up a haunting atmosphere propel many a slim, pastel-teared-jacketed volume up the prize shortlists, with nobody seemingly noticing the gaping plotholes in the story. Or not caring about them if they do. But I care. If I can’t completely trust the world the author has created, what’s the point of reading on? If the letdown comes right at the end of the book, as it so often does, I’m left with a dispiriting sense of being...