Short novellas and why I love them

 Let me just preface this by saying, I consider myself a semi-avid reader. I don't want to toot my own horn. But I also want to give myself some credit where it is due. I used to read a lot more when I was younger. Didn't we all? I'd like to provide an excuse by saying I don't have any time anymore, but that's neither an excuse nor a valid reason not to read. I still love it. All aspects of it. Admittedly, the part where it makes me sound like an intellectual. 

Anyway. I'd like to say that, having read a fair bit, I feel as if I have enough authority (subjectively speaking) to provide my opinion on this topic. 

1. This is not a list, but it makes it easier for me to think of it like that. I doubt I can write as well as I do (I think) if I turn this into an academic article. Formal language and I do not mix. Not to say I don't like throwing words around. I do. But when I try, it turns out like a toddler's finger painting rather than an essay from the New York Times. Charming in its own way, but certainly not up to any possible standard or mark, distinguishing it from the actually 'good' works that we find before the website stops us from scrolling, only to flash that subscribe button at us.

2. I say this without a doubt. All the short novellas I've read, and I do mean all, have been absolute bangers. Maybe it's just me being lazy and not having it in me to read a full 200 or 300-something page novel (it is definitely somewhat true), but every single one that I've read over the course of my very short life, has been absolutely amazing. 

Even when I was younger and reading all the popular children's books by the prolific writers of our (well, not OUR) time, I was always drawn to the, for lack of a better word, thinner books. From all the Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, and other colourful authors I absorbed, I remember Fantastic Mr. Fox being my favourite out of all of them.

3. Precision. I've narrowed down a few points of discussion over this short post, but precision seems to be the most practical one out of all of them. Now, mind you, I don't mean precision in plot or language or anything easily distinguishable from a first glance. No. Literature is far too complex to be untangled by a simple pull of the thread tangled with other threads to form a comprehensive knot.

The ability to convey something, anything, with words is a dreadfully difficult ordeal. I write a mixture of jumbled thoughts, dreams, and sometimes half-formed notions, and I have really no clue how to decipher them. And if I, the author, don't know how to explain something to you, it's highly unlikely for you, the reader, to understand and grasp the full meaning. Therefore, what strikes me as fucking fantastic about the entire short novella ordeal is how precisely and perfectly writers can put forth their views, thoughts, opinions, basically whatever they want to. 

Now... I consider myself an elitist. I do not read modern literature if I can help it, and for good reason, too. I know, I sound like a prick. I am one in real life. But just a tiny bit. So in recent times, while trying to get myself to read old, ancient, semi-ancient books, I was admittedly quite sad to discover I abhor Russian literature. Okay, maybe that's a strong word for it. But I simply cannot physically make myself read hours and hours and hours of the same couple of lines repeated a million different times without meaning anything. Maybe I don't have what it takes to go down that route and that's okay. But I cannot, in good conscience, subject myself to that torture when I've already discovered 'my type' of literature.

The only (until I find more) exception of this rule is White Nights by Dostoevsky. Again. Why did I enjoy it so much? The magical effects of a short novella.

4. Abstraction. Hear me out... I know this seems like a complete 180° turn from what the previous point was all about, but I do have some justifications for writing this. Abstraction has always been thought of as the main point of art. Any form of art. And while that is true, I believe it is a tactic. A technique, if you will, used tactfully in a story to convey a sense of emptiness. It ultimately can make us feel frustrated, excited, and all too eager to find out the answer. But the answer is that there is no answer. And you have to draw your own conclusions.

That is the fun part. This quality is not something unique to only novellas. Virtually every form of literature and art uses this technique. But while writing a short novella, one has to master the art of the abstract. Know when to draw the line, and when to erase it so hard that every trace of it has disappeared, and you only see a clear space where the line used to be.

A Streetcar Named Desire. As a rule of thumb, I think that anything by Tennessee Williams is bloody brilliant, and this play has proved me completely right. The characters, though fleshed out wonderfully, also have an air of mystery about them. In the sense that we can never fully know why they are doing what they are doing. And the lines! My God, the lines! I've always been a fan of dramatic monologues, but Blanche's takes the cake. It's all so clear and yet so hazy at times that I can't help but think that I'm in someone's dream, never quite knowing if what I'm stepping on is solid ground or a cloud.

5. Power-packed. Again, this is not solely applicable to novellas, but personally, I am left reeling after finishing a short novella. This point is strengthened only by the previous ones before this. I feel as if reading that has left a huge impression on me. Not to discredit the other 'normal' length books that have done the same. I can't help but think that there is something inherently... more about a book that's short but is able to double down and forever embed something in your soul that you cannot forget even if you try to. Or maybe that's just me being dramatic.

Possibly, I'm one of those lucky few that has come across such gripping stories that have shaped my view on this topic today. But personally, any author that can concisely explain the main subject matter in lyrical but not overcomplicated language, having a central theme, and blending our realities together to form a joint or shared experience... that author is akin to God.

Animal Farm by George Orwell is one such example. And yes, while it does seem a bit foolish to talk only about mainstream authors and works of literature, one has to admit that the appeal to the masses does not disqualify it as a really profound piece of work; rather, it strengthens it. Animal Farm is incredibly obvious. The deeper meanings are not hidden, but overtly interpreted by the reader as they continue flipping the pages. It transitions from one form of government to the next, sliding smoothly through all three until you realise that what you're reading is not just a book. It is, in fact, the world around you. And it will continue to remain the world around you until something... or a group of someones changes it. And that hits you like a cannonball straight to the chest. That. Is. Power.