Why Does Fiction Signify?

Why does Fiction Signify?

Recently, I had a startling experience with a well-known mystery author.

From our Little Free Library came a worn copy of her 2003 novel. The very dignity of this particular author’s name had always attracted me.

Right away, inside, I read that she worked thirty years in Police and Criminal Law aspects of the British Home Office. On an inside cover was a long list of her previous published mysteries. A powerful author indeed. I was even more intrigued.

I thought, OK, I’ll chance it. I doubt I’ll see cookie-cutter writing from this author. OK, gimme the first page.

But first,

Her “Author’s Note.”

Her note started out, “I must apologize to all lovers of Hampstead Heath and to the Corporation of London for my temerity in erecting the fictional Dupayne Museum on the fringes of these beautiful and well-loved acres.”

In about 200 words, she went on to tell readers that “...exist(s) only in my imagination, as does Swathling’s College...”

Uncomprehendingly, I hurried through the Author’s Note and then I just moved right along and spun through page one of the novel.

Rather, I read the first paragraph – which I was very impressed with – then the entire first page. I respected her limiting herself to the introduction of only two characters on the first page.

But something nagged the whole time. I was reading fiction. I wanted to read a fiction that somehow signified – that is to say – meant something – somehow, by some stretch.

Yet, right up front, the author had implied to me that what you will read exists “only in my imagination.”

Vitally, I need fiction to exist in my own, personal imagination. I need disbelief suspended by a scaffolding. I need fiction to take on a vitality in my own heart and soul and intellect. I felt the reality of young Jim Hawkins’ fear of Billy Bones. I knew that Greystoke would return to England and preside in the House of Lords.

But up front, in this woman’s Author’s Note, I was told Adam Dalgliesh is just somebody she made up. It gave a sinking feeling.

I couldn’t help it. That’s the way I read her Author’s Note. My bubble popped. I put her 2003 story down. In the days since I was so startled by her, the same delicate question has been pestering.

Why does Fiction signify – scaffolding or not?