Quiet novels bring us places we don’t expect. Who knew that it would be so compelling to watch thousands of swifts circle around a chimney at sunset, preparing to dive inside for the night?
I was talking to a writer a few weeks ago at a party, and she alluded to the quiet novel in her past and how she had reinvented her literary self after that quiet novel didn’t sell.
“Quiet novel?” I responded. “I have one of those too.”
In fact, I have two of them… but that’s besides the point. While the novel I’m working on now is hardly quiet–enough plot happens in the first few chapters to sustain a whole quiet novel for three hundred pages–I love reading quiet novels. The manuscripts I’ve read in critique groups, the ones branded quiet by thanks-but-no-thanks publishing professionals (as if quiet means something terrible, something one should only dare acknowledge from a safe distance), are among my favorite books ever. And in thinking about my favorite authors–Julia Glass comes to mind, and Anne Tyler–their books are anything but quiet. They are busting their seams with character, tension and plot. And yet, if you were to distill those books down to a one-sentence pitch, they might sound… well… quiet.
I admit it. I’m a quiet novel junkie. These books pitch themselves into a character’s world and render it fully–from the inside and the outside. These books have reasons for being. These books say things about being human that other human beings need to hear. I am one of those human beings who reads to learn. To have my view of the world challenged. And to live, for a while, in an alternate reality, the lush world of Good Story.
Quiet means introspective, character-driven, rich with language and emotion.
Quiet does not mean boring. It does not mean plotless.
Quiet has been turned into a negative attribute by the publishing industry professionals, but at Forest Avenue Press, quiet means something is about to happen. The four-year-old sitting in time out, on the circle rug in the preschool classroom, is anything but quiet inside as he thinks about the little boy who took his toy, who caused the riot of words and the push to come out, because it wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t fair that the teacher didn’t see the taking, but only saw the pushing.
Quiet is almost always dangerous.
Quiet means getting messy with fingerpaints, blending all the colors together until you ruin your paper with a huge messy glob of black, and then, over in the corner, coming to an understanding with red. And yellow. And the result on the page, that bittersweet sunset, that mottled peach, that splash of mimosa, is the finest, truest color because of all the mess, and because that understanding with red and yellow, that truce of goldenrod, almost didn’t happen. Because you just as likely could have ended up with purple or green. Or more black.
I was in the final production stages of Forest Avenue Press’ first book, Brave on the Page: Oregon Writers on Craft and the Creative Life, when I had that quiet novel conversation. And I was thinking about what would be next, what else I could do with the press. How I could make publishing other people’s books work from a business point of view, because that’s my goal. And it occurred to me that I could publish quiet novels.
And so here we are, beginning this publishing adventure, open to manuscripts that will teach us something new about the world.
JANUARY 2013 UPDATE: It’s official! We are open for submissions until March 1. Here’s what we’re looking for and specific information on how to submit. Thanks for your interest, everyone!
Interesting. I do think that, as as small press, it really makes a difference to have a focus.
In terms of “quiet” novels, it sounds in some of your description that you’re talking about “literary” novels (as distinct from “genre” novels). Is that how you see the distinction, or is this a different way of looking at it, with perhaps some overlap with the ‘literary”/”genre” model?
Thanks for visiting, Anthony! Great question. I do think there’s a relationship between “quiet” and “literary.” Not all literary novels are quiet, but all quiet novels, in my definition anyway, tend to be literary. The drama that plays out is more internal than external in most scenes, though it’s of course caused by external forces initially.
Memoirs can be quiet too. There was that whole group of memoirs five or ten years ago, where each was more horrifying than the other, and then suddenly publishing only wanted (it seemed from the outside) memoirs about horrid, horrid lives because everything else wasn’t shocking enough to sell. Everything else is quiet.
People seem to be looking for a hook these days–writers and readers. Sometimes quiet novels have less of a hook, or are harder to sum up, because they’re about the internal reactions set off by external forces, not focused on the external forces.
Okay, sort of a subset of “literary.” That’s much clearer. Thanks.
I don’t follow the memoir field, but I believe that trend of more and more horrifying memoirs a few years ago coincided (IIRC) with a few revelations that some popular “memoirs” were more or less totally fabricated.
Ah, the “hook.” It’s like the Hollywood pitch meeting. Your movie is a lot more likely to be made if it can be summarized in a catchy sentence or two, but many great movies could never have been reduced to a quick pitch. It sounds like a similar situation.
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Love this. As a reader I love quiet books, and as an Oregonian with a very quiet memoir, I can tell you these books are out there. Can’t wait to read titles from Forest Avenue Press.
Thanks for your comment and your support, Norikol! I love meeting other quiet book writers and readers, and I’m so excited to focus on this niche through publishing Oregon writers. Exciting times are ahead for sure.
This really resonated with me. I like to read and write stories that aren’t necessarily driven by the plot. They are driven by the characters and the language. And they operate with the assumption that the little moments matter – because they do… I would love your suggestions for books to read that fall into this category. I’ve recently finished and loved Glaciers, Tell The Wolves I’m Home, and No One Is Here Except All of Us.
Hi, Heather! It’s so great to hear from a quiet novel fan. There are so many good ones, and I love your comment about how small moments matter in quiet novels. That’s so true. I am reading Glaciers right now, actually, and really savoring it. Going on that Portland author trend, I’ve recently enjoyed You Don’t Love This Man by Dan DeWeese (whose new short story collection Disorder is amazing too), Hello Goodbye by Emily Chenoweth and Evel Knievel Days by Pauls Toutonghi. I have a ton of other quiet novels on my shelves, though, (including some by non-Portland authors!), so feel free to check in again or pop me an email at laurastanfill at hotmail dot com. It’s always fun to talk books with people who have similar tastes.
I love the idea of spreading the word about beautiful quiet novels, especially because many great writers have been told by industry professionals that their novels are “too quiet” in the current market. So many readers love this kind of work, though, and I’m so excited about publishing some amazing quiet novels in 2013 and beyond.
Sorry it has taken me so long to respond, but your email got caught in my spam filter. I am putting all of your suggestions on my “to read” list on Evernote. Yay! Thank you! How did you like Glaciers?
So glad to hear from you, Heather! I loved Glaciers. It was so elegant and beautiful, like tiny little postcard scenes.
Please tell me where to find your email address. I’d like to submit a quiet novel, but seem to be blind as to how. Thanks.
Hi, Rachel! You can submit to submissions at laurastanfill dot com. I wrote this post back in September, before I had decided on a submission period or created a submissions-specific email address. Sorry for the confusion!
I will also go ahead and update this post with a link to our actual call for manuscripts, which explains specifically what we’re looking for. Thanks for your interest and I look forward to reading your work.
What a beautiful description of everything I’ve ever felt about ‘quiet reads’ and never been able to articulate!
And wow, so great that you have chosen to publish quiet reads. As somebody who wants to work in the publishing industry I find your move inspiring. I look forward to your releases.
On a related note, if you could have a page on Recommended Quiet Reads, that would be really awesome.
Thanks so much for the comment, Juhi! I’m so glad to know another quiet novel appreciator, especially someone who wants to work in the industry. I’ve always approached publishing from the writer’s point of view, until I decided to start my own press, and it has been liberating and exciting to be able to focus on the kind of manuscripts that I love most.
You have inspired me to start a page called Quiet Novels. I hope to have it up and running by the end of this week, and I’ll encourage people to leave their own favorite quiet novels in the comments. Thanks for the great idea!
Yay! What a great idea!
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