I recently finished LESSONS IN CHEMISTRY, the bestselling novel by Bonnie Garmus, and…wow. Now, it’s definitely not a novel for kids, but it holds some mighty interesting craft lessons for all writers. Plus it’s a very fun read for adults.
Garmus not only has crafted an entertaining story; she’s broken some rules that I tell my clients all the time they should not break. So what does she do and how does she get away with it? Let’s take it apart.
By the way, this is something that if you are newish to the craft of writing your teacher might call “studying a mentor text”, or “reading like a writer”. It’s different than reading for pleasure. If you are struggling with a particular craft issue, it’s always good to check out someone who tackles that issue with skill.
Opening Not At the Beginning
I would caution most writers to start their story with their main character at the beginning of their story arc, showing them at least briefly in the “ordinary world”, and sending them on their journey of change by catapulting them through an inciting incident.
Garmus starts her story with a flash-forward. And that’s almost to the very end of her story. Handled incorrectly, this could be confusing and possibly even spoil the story – but instead it lends an air of mystery. She accomplishes this by hinting at that arc of character change: “look what happened to her”. We must read on to find out what indeed did happen.
Head Hopping
One of the earliest lessons in writing revolves around point of view. Whether you write in first person or third, it’s a pretty well-regarded “rule” to avoid jumping from one character’s point of view into another in the same scene.
Garmus jumps from one point of view to another to another to another – including into the point of view of the dog. And we’re not talking about an omniscient head-fake: we’re talking close third POV for each. It feels effortless and natural, and I think her trick is to fall so tightly into that next point of view, and to keep the scene so tightly focused on its central emotional point, that she gets away with it.
Telling, Not Showing
The rule to “show, don’t tell” is as old as the form of the novel. As a teacher, I have to remind new writers to show me what the character is feeling through gesture, action, or dialogue – don’t tell me. I suggest an 80/20 rule to the percentage of show/tell.
Garmus tells a lot. She manages this neat trick by telling us fascinating things in interesting ways that set up more questions than answers. In other words, she holds emotion, stakes, and tension high, and we are propelled forward because although she’s “telling”, she’s not “revealing.” Our curiosity grows and we are deeply attached to the outcome.
Throwing a Lot of Data Into a Story
This is truly “lessons in chemistry”, but it’s anything but boring. Most of the time a reader would set aside a novel that was filled with data and details, but Garmus manages to give the reader a whole basket of lessons, and not only chemical. She cites history, politics, women’s rights, recipes, literature, mixing all of these into a delicious stew.
And we eat it up because we are fed through the voice of her strikingly original main character, Elizabeth Zott, most often in dialogue but also in that tight third person internal monologue that Garmus has mastered.
The Lesson?
Garmus is a skillful writer. If you want to break writing rules, first you must understand them, and recognize when/if you’re breaking them, and make that a conscious choice. And it doesn’t hurt to have a solid plot layered with tension and emotion and delivered around a nuanced main character.
Very interesting, Janet! This has been on my TBR pile, but haven't gotten to it.
Wonderful analysis of a wonderful novel, Janet. I loved this book and love your explanation of just how Garmus managed to get away with breaking all those rules.