More Title Woe
Don’t judge a book by its cover, the old adage goes. But let’s face it, we do. Perhaps more interestingly, we – or at least, I – also judge a book by its title. Remarkable how a few words, or sometimes even one, can tell you everything you need to know about a novel.
A title instantly tells you genre; a thriller might be a couple of punchy, weighty words, like The Unforgiven Gun or, the one I’m currently wading through with cries of ‘no, but really?’ – The Killing Fields. (Featuring, it has to be said, a man so manly that I can’t help but wonder if anyone’s ever sat him down and invited him to consider the wonders of a gentle back rub, a relaxing music and some sushi. I believe I don’t violate any copyright when I inform you that the tag line of this novel is: Jack Reacher. Men Want To Be Him. Women Want To Be With Him. More, do you need to know?)
A title can tell you about the quality of the book – perhaps it’s light and fluffy – Three Shops, Two Shoes and a Honeymoon – or maybe it informs you in a single word that what you’re about to sit through will not be a bundle of laughs – Sorrow. It can suggest period – The Extraordinary and Unusual Adventures of Horatio Lyle, for example, instantly implies an age when the author’s name was a couple of initials on the spine, and the title not only gave you the gist, but also attempted to encapsulate the plot – being a witty tale of disaster, betrayal, magic and what not to do with magnesium oxides, brought to you by C.W., the cover could perhaps explain.
Even within genres, titles can imply a hell of a lot about the subject matter. Take, as the area I’m most comfortable in, fantasy. The Sword of [insert mystic kingdom/prophet here]… almost invariably implies a quest, or at the very least a magical artifact. The Lord of [insert kingdom/magic] tends to suggest geopolitics with a chaser of mystic intoning. Burning Magic, or perhaps, Magic Awakening or words along these lines can often imply a tale of one man/woman’s struggle to come to terms with their destiny as the witch/wizard of the moment. One of my favourite titles – The Warlock In Spite Of Himself – once again gives you both a great deal of the characterisation of the novel, while simultaneously, in six little words, telling you a hell of a lot about the tone of the author. The [insert here} Gate often suggests dark forces, presumably coming through said gate, while [Something] Dawn usually implies some serious character development as our protagonists either move from a state of ignorance to bliss, or equally often, watch something very nasty indeed move from a state of slumber to awakening, with a heavy threat of sequels already implied in that where there’s a dawn, there’s usually a Noon, Twilight and Night yet to come. Sometimes titles can tell you the setting and, to a degree, the chronology and subject matter – take American Gods, one of my favourite books, by Neil Gaiman, one of my favourite writers. The fact that it’s so clearly American gives you a geographical place; it further more tends to imply that we’re talking post-War of Independence; Gods suggests at once the theme but Gods in conjunction with America? Are we talking Native American spirits – perhaps – or are we dealing with a slightly wackier, more modern take? Either way, we’re intrigued.
Thinking of intriguing, there’s that last category of titles which don’t really tell you anything at all, but which are perhaps a combination of things which should mean something alone, combined into something else entirely. Sticking with Neil Gaiman, there’s Neverwhere, a title which tells you very little at all, while suggesting all sorts of things that you really can’t explain. I’ve done something similar myself – Waywalkers, for example, really doesn’t mean anything, although it does imply at once that we’re gonna be dealing with some people walking a very special way. Mirror Dreams and Mirror Wakes again tell you very little, although it’s clear that they remain connected; and of course, A Madness of Angels could mean almost anything, but asks you to accept that if common usage is ready to be abused, then so might a few other preconceptions. The Midnight Mayor, Neon Court and Minority Council all follow a rather more obvious path, in that they tell you at once what the book is about, while also informing anyone who hasn’t read a word of my writing to consider that their usual concepts – the Lord Mayor, for example – are about to get twisted.
Ironic, all this being so, that I am so totally, utterly stuck for a title for Urban Magic 5.
Ah well.
