Interesting theory. It is vague enough that you can expand it to fit things -- for instance, Jurassic Park (book) didn't have a goal until a good way through, when you suddenly acquire the classic "survive and escape" goal. I was going to suggest The Turn of the Screw as a counterexample, but it occurs to me that technically the implied goal of a governess -- "educate, nurture, and protect children" could apply to the movement of the entire book.

I think perhaps the problem with this theory is that same universality of application; I think you'll find that while most people can apply your theory to stories they've enjoyed and find compelling, they probably equally apply to most stories they haven't enjoyed or found compelling.

I don't think clearly-defined goals are always necessary in order to drive a plot and make it engaging, but I've found that the books and movies I enjoy the most tend to be structured that way. Some of them make the mistake of defining goals and then getting bogged down in the middle with irrelevant details, which tends to make me lose interest pretty quickly, however.

But I think as long as you've got the reader/viewer expecting something and wanting to see it happen and believing that it just might happen on the next page or in the next scene, you'll always hold their interest. Even if they end up being dissatisfied in the end (I'm looking at you Michael Crichton, you bastard).

Hrm. I think perhaps we are speaking at cross-purposes. While I do think that goals are not the only way of structuring a compelling book, my real point was that striving towards something is pretty much the human condition. Most books are going to be about it, then -- and unless the criterion is not goal-orientedness, but clear definition and pursuit of the goals, that makes it too all-inclusive to be a good indicator of merit.

I'd probably come across more clearly in person. My writing skills are currently less than spectacular. That's what I get for spending the last two weeks writing user documentation.

Anyway, take Amber, for example, which I know we've both read. The Amber books are as good as they are, for one, because Roger Zelazny kicks all kinds of ass, but also because we know exactly what needs to happen and why. What needs to happen? Corwin needs to take the throne away from Eric. Why? Because Corwin is the rightful heir. Now let's look at Star Wars: Episode I. What needs to happen? Um, we're not sure really, except that we know Anakin eventually turns to the dark side and stuff. Why? Uh...hmm. Well, I guess...um...hey, what does a trade dispute have to do with this? Why is Jar-Jar there? Who is this Qui-Gon Jinn? And the guy with the horns...Darth What-now?

See the difference?

Yes, but by the same token...*thinks of bad movie that isn't Star Wars I* umm.... Okay, so in "Dude, Where's My Car?" they are looking for his car. It couldn't be more obvious if they put it in the title...wait, they did. :)
And yet, it is "Dude, Where's My Car?"

I think your theory may apply especially well to movies, really. It's a very constrained art/communication form -- limited time, et c. If you stray, you are lost. c.f. not only Star Wars, but many of the all-time bad movies -- "Manos, the Hands of Fate" swims awkwardly to mind. Whereas, the GOOD bad movies ("Flash! Ah ah!") have a very clear goal, however campy or odd, and trot along apace. I can think of good books that fail your goal tests, but I am not sure I can movies.

Split this comment in 2 and didn't rename t'other.


Interestingly, I thought of Amber earlier, as a good example of goal transitioning. At the beginning, the goal is "Find out who I am and what I'm doing." Zelazny transitions that beautifully into the throne war. A very good book I reread recently, Taran Wanderer, also does goal transitioning -- Taran seeks A, finds out B may tell him the secret of A, so changes goal to B. On way to B, decides A is not important, and seeks C. While getting C, happens upon B and discovers that the answer to A was, all along, "A is not important. How 'bout that C?"

It's a lot clearer with real things rather than letters, but I don't want to spoil the beautiful message of the book if you are a deprived young man.

Given my obsession with movies, is it surprising that I base my storytelling philosophies on them? ;)

It's also probably no coincidence that my favorite books are those that are cinematic and to-the-point in their style, with a few exceptions (Neal Stephenson is rarely to the point, but I enjoy his writing anyway). Most of my favorite books would make (and some have made) very good movies with very few plot changes.

Speaking of which, I sure wish someone would hurry up and make a movie out of Wasp. That book wants to be a kickass movie so bad it hurts.

Since my favorite book right now is Les Misérables, which, I'm sorry folks, simply does not make a good movie (I haven't seen the most recent one, so this is not a barb -- it's just a fact. A book that big, rich, and complex does NOT fit in four hours, let alone two.), I think you can see I'm not coming from the same place in this discussion. Your theory applies v. well to movies.

I think one of the important elements of good storytelling, especially (but not exclusively) in speculative fiction, is exposition -- exploring the world. That can often (but not always) be flatly detrimental to to-the-point goal-oriented storytelling. Of course, exposition and characterization can occur along the way -- but authors vary and there is no one right way. It is important to note that in movies, you CAN do world exploration, visually, without obstructing the plot at all.

It's good to note for movies that having a clear goal and constantly being blocked at every turn is a classic source of comedy :P