What Can We Learn from Mr. Rayburn's Mess? (RB Vs. The Shadow God, Wrap Up) · 3:00pm Jul 18th, 2022
Previously, on The Shadow God:
La finale!
And now:
Welcome back. Did you miss me? I missed you.
This is the wrap-up, the place where we take The Shadow God apart and talk about why it does and doesn't work. If you're new to this series, I recommend you go and start from chapter one. Or not. Do as your prerogative tells you.
Why do I do this? Because I believe that you can learn a lot of really good lessons about writing by investigating works that don't measure up. Learn why something doesn't work, and you're one step closer to creating something that does work. It's the reason I write these blogs in the first place.
So come along, everybody.
There's work to be done.
Part 1: The Good Parts
I want to start this blog off by talking about where The Shadow God succeeds. I didn't do this for the previous two stories I've given this treatment to because I honestly couldn't think of any good things to highlight. This story, however, is actually semi-competently put together. So I figured we'd start with the good and then work our way down to the bad.
The previous two books I analyzed had major issues with structure. The Shadow God, on the other hand, is structured just fine. It can easily be pulled apart into an act structure, and successfully builds on itself over the course of its 472 pages. You can tell Mr. Rayburn has read a book before. That's good!
The prose, as well, is readable. It's not good, and it's marred by very basic issues (like the adverbs I mentioned in one of the chapters), bizarre word choices (I fear Mr. Rayburn relies a bit too much on his thesaurus), and an overly tell-y narrator, but at the end of the day it isn't painful to read. It's around par for amateur fanfiction, and I think it could have been fine with a good editor. Again: you can tell Mr. Rayburn has read a book before.
And finally: the story itself isn't a bore. It can get quite exciting, at times. Things actually happen in it, and there's rarely a dull moment. That's more than I can say for some of the other books we've read.
Okay. That's it. That's all the praise I want to give. Let's move on to the problems.
Part 2: Characterization and Character Arcs
So characters are important. I think any author will tell you that. They're important because they are the vehicle through which the reader experiences a story.
Mr. Rayburn has a problem with the consistency of his characters. People will change completely between chapters, and sometimes even between scenes. I think the best example of this is Mark, and specifically in chapter eight, where he runs gung-ho into the woods with his gun saying he'll shoot anything that comes near him, and then later, once the other characters catch up, is acting cautiously and carefully and quite clear-headed. It's bizarre, and not a problem I've ever encountered before.
The reason for this, I think, is that Mr. Rayburn is sacrificing their characterizations for the sake of whatever he's trying to do in that particular scene. Characterization falls to the wayside so the narrative can do what the author wants.
And that's bad writing. How are we, the reader, supposed to care about or sympathize with a character if that character acts completely different every time we see them?
Curiously, one other recurring issue with the book's characters is that none of them seem to act their age. I had to keep reminding myself that most of the main cast were in college. It's been suggested that the characters may have originally been conceived younger and then 'aged up' to meet the demands of the publisher. We'll never know for sure if that's true, but it is a problem that exists in the work, and I wanted to mention it here.
Now, the other thing I want to talk about in this section is character arcs. A character arc is the way a character develops over the course of a story; how the events of the narrative mold and change them as a person. Characters start out one way, and they learn to be a different way. Easy.
Character arcs are an incredibly important building block of a story. They help to support the main thesis, and they give a character depth. Let's look at some of the major characters in the book and see if we can establish what their arcs are.
Craig is the main protagonist. Does he have a character arc? No, not really. He remains mostly unchanged throughout the book.
Is it a bad thing to have a protagonist with no character arc? Not necessarily. There are many books and films, commonly in the mystery/action/adventure genres, that do not have their main characters change. Sometimes it's okay to have no arcs at all! But it's a little weird to me that Craig doesn't have an arc, because both of his friends do. Let's take a look at them.
Todd begins the story with two character traits: he's a (stereotyped) man of science, and he's a coward. Both of these easily lead into character arcs for him. He could learn that he doesn't always have the answers, that science maybe doesn't have all the answers, and that he needs to have a little bit of belief. I don't like that character arc, I actually think it's pretty shit, but I've certainly seen it done before. The other arc is simple: while a coward, he learns to be braver, to take risks to help his friends when they need it.
And he does learn both of these things. Just... not very well.
The God thing is done through explicit exposition in one of the final chapters—and it's applied retroactively. We are told that, at some nebulous point earlier in the story, Todd has changed his mind. That's bad writing.
Sometime during the past week, he decided that since there was a Shadow God, there must be a real God.
The bravery arc fares a little better; he actually does show that he's become braver through his actions to bring Craig the bone sword. But it's a binary switch. Literally a few scenes before, in the caves, he's still a coward, then suddenly he's willing to put his life on the line for friendship, with no real change happening between the two. It's clumsy, but points for effort.
Mark has a big character arc—his fall into greater and greater depths of cruelty and depravity. He begins the stroy as a loser; the bottom of the three central protagonists. He's a virgin. He's bad at sports. He hates that he's a virgin and bad at sports, especially because it's the opposite of Craig and Todd, who constantly tease him about that fact.
And it's because he's a loser that he's vulnerable to Ridley. Ridley offers him what he wants: guns and sex. Power and an escape from his own shame. And Ridley uses that as leverage to force Mark into doing progressively worse and worse things. He has Mark try to kill someone in the Dark World. Then he has Mark kill the same person in the real world. Then he asks Mark to kill Craig. Then he has Mark rape Kristy. Every time, he's pushing Mark just a little bit further.
And I'm not saying that this is well executed. It could have done to be a lot subtler. I'm looking more at what Mr. Rayburn wanted to do, here, not how he actually did it.
This is Mark's character arc.
Now, all of this could have culminated in Mark finally attempting to kill Craig, signaling that he has completely lost sight of what's important to him and cementing how twisted his morality has become as a result of Ridley's manipulations. I think this would have been a fitting endpoint. You could even turn it on its head after that, show Craig and Todd realizing that the way they were acting helped make Mark this way. That could have played nicely into the book's theme, which I will discuss in the next section.
Instead, he becomes a literal mindless pawn of Ridley's, which I think is not as interesting because he suddenly loses his agency in the matter. If he was just going to be brainwashed, there is no need for him to have done the things he has done. It may be symbolically equivalent, but I think it throws his entire character arc out the window. It feels like a waste because the author did genuinely have something going with Mark, but was unable to execute it well, and ended up just offing his character anyway with shockingly little reflection done on the part of Craig or Todd.
One more character. Detective Underwood should have been an easy one. He starts out unable to forgive Craig for the sins of his father, letting himself be blinded from justice by revenge. Surely his arc, then, would be about learning to forgive Craig, learning to leave behind his need for revenge.
Instead, he gets killed by Mark, ending any chance for personal growth he might have had. I think this is a big waste of a character. He essentially gets replaced in the story by Eubanks, who was a side character at best before.
So what does all this mean? Well, I think we can agree that the characters we've discussed above all have a solid start to their character arcs. The problem is in the execution, whether that be Todd's sudden turn, or the ultimate inconsequence of Mark's, or the nonexistence of Detective Underwood's. So what we can learn from this is to take great care in how the character arcs that we create develop. Plan out the events that change your characters. Ask yourself: what gets my character from point A to point B? What is the path they need to take in order to become who I want them to become?
Part 3: What is This Story Even About?
Let's talk themes.
Themes are the central concepts that a piece of media explores. They're the ideas a story conveys to the reader. They're what the story is about.
In a tightly written, well-thought-out story, everything in the story is in service to the central themes, from the narrative itself to the arcs of the characters. From the themes, authors define their central thesis: the ultimate answer to the questions the themes raise.
I find it somewhat ironic that the central thesis of this book, which has tried so hard to come off as sick and twisted, is one we're all intimately familiar with: the importance of friendship.
This can be seen throughout the book; the three main characters are constantly talking about how they're "friends till the end". Certainly, Craig would not have made it through everything he experienced without the support of Mark and Todd. It's most prominent, however, in the ending, where Todd risks everything and ultimately sacrifices himself to save Craig because of their friendship:
Craig needs you right now, said his mind. Don’t abandon him like Mark did. Don’t abandon him like everyone else did. Don’t become a statistic. Remember: friends till the end.
Live together; die together.
Friends till the end.
“You went back down there?” Craig asked, incredulous. “Are you crazy?”
Todd shook his head. “I did it for you—for us. Nothing is going to stop me from saving my best friend.”
This is why I think friendship is at the story's center. But how well does the book communicate this thesis, how well does it build it up and present it to the audience?
Spoiler: not very well.
Perhaps the biggest issue is the problem of Mark. Mark is one of the three blood brothers. He's Craig and Todd's closest friend. But in this instance, the power of friendship isn't enough to save him. There's a quick line about it:
Craig nodded. “They’ve brainwashed him or something,” he said. “But we’re all still friends till the end. He’ll side with us again if we can get back inside his head.”
But this is immediately discarded in favour of shooting him in the head:
Todd jerked Mark’s head back by the hair and jammed the gun into Mark’s temple. “Rot in Hell, motherfucker!”
Before Mark could react, Todd pulled the trigger, scattering fragments of Mark’s skull everywhere.
Craig and Todd barely even mourn his death after killing him.
You could say that Mark abandoned his friends, and that is how he ties into the theme. But I don't buy that. If Mark had changed sides willingly, then sure; he betrays his friends, and is therefore lost. But up until the moment he was brainwashed, he was still unwilling to harm his friends. To the death, even:
A bright, blue light began to encompass his vision. Soon he would be dead, as would Kristy. He just hoped Craig and Todd were strong enough to fight the battle without him. He hoped, as he lost consciousness, that God was on their side. Because they were going to need him.
And so, this points in the opposite direction that the ending does: friendship has no inherent value. It cannot save you (not that I'd want Mark to be saved).
This can also be seen with Kristy. In that case, love and friendship are also not enough to save her. She also gets the bullet.
We're being pulled in two different directions, here: in the case of Todd and Craig, friendship is power, but in the case of Mark and Kristy, friendship means nothing. And this is bad! It shows that the author didn't examine his own writing thematically to see if it was consistent with the message he was trying to impart, assuming he was trying to impart any message at all.
So, how do we as authors develop our themes? Well, there's two approaches: some people start with the theme in mind from the beginning, shaping the story as they go to fit with that theme. The other approach is to write the story first, then go back and look for the themes already present in the story, and edit the work to strengthen them (incidentally, this is how Stephen King does it; he talks about it in On Writing).
In either approach, what's important is that you be aware of the themes you are introducing into your story and do what you can to make every aspect of the book reflect the central idea. Consider strongly how your plot and character arcs tie into it. Be aware of what your work is trying to say.
Anyway. Enough of this wholesome shit. Let's talk about the icky stuff.
Part 4: The Icky Stuff
This book is deliberately offensive. I know this because it literally creates situations in which it can be offensive. Remember that one time Mr. Rayburn wrote in a random gay stranger just so he could be homophobic to him? And that other time he wrote in a group of black guys just so he could be racist to them? Yeah. That's bad. Don't do that. Just don't be awful; it's that simple.
But let's brush away the stuff on the surface, the occasional racism and the f-slurs, and look a bit deeper into the murk. In particular, let's talk about how the women in this story are portrayed.
There's a concept in feminist theory called the male gaze. In basic terms, it refers to the patriarchal norm of depicting women from a cis-hetero-male perspective. This results in stories where men are defined by their actions, and women are defined by their passivity, relationships to men, and their physical attractiveness. In short, it's the concept of men writing women for heterosexual male readers.
In no other book that I have read has the male gaze been more apparent than in The Shadow God. We'll talk about how it affects a few of the characters, beginning with the most prominent female character first: Kristy.
Kristy is almost entirely defined both by her relationship with Craig and by being an attractive female that the other characters either want to or do have sex with. Here's her introduction:
All three boys looked up and saw the most incredible looking blonde the world had ever seen walking toward them. Her hair hung in golden tassels down past her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled blue as her smile radiated. She wore short denim shorts that were fringed at the bottom, revealing long tanned legs. She also had on a white tank top that revealed some major cleavage. She walked with the swift gracefulness of a runway model. It was Kristy.
Every time Kristy appears in the novel, she is introduced like this: as an object of sexual attraction. She is a character written by a man to be appealing to other men.
What does she do in the story? Well, she cries a bunch when Craig tries to tell her what's going on; that's a reaction to something a male character did. She gets raped by Mark; that's a sexual action being done to her by a man. The only time she actually acts in the story is when she tries to kill Craig right at the end, but it's unclear whether she's doing that of her own volition or not. So generally, her role in the story is very passive.
And then Craig kills her.
Ginny Cook, similarly, is defined by her attractiveness. Here's her introduction into the story:
This girl wore a white, button-up top with the three topmost buttons undone, revealing the swell of her lovely breasts. She wore tight, white slacks (Todd’s favorite on a woman) that rose up her crotch, giving her a slight camel toe. Her hair was blonde, straight, and hung just past her shoulders.
Ginny actually does have more of an active role in the story than Kristy; she pushes Todd into the Dark World and kills Margie. So good for her, I guess.
Speaking of Margie, her character is entirely defined by her desire to have sex with Craig. Here's her introduction:
Margie, Mark’s eighteen-year-old sister, pulled the door open. She’d had a crush on Craig ever since he mentioned the fact that she was finally growing tits. But, naturally Craig passed her off as some kind of pest. He had never really noticed her until now. Until she stood before him in a gray halter top, with no bra, nipples poking out, and black jeans that were just snug enough to flatter her blossoming body.
Craig paused for a second, temporarily forgetting why he was there.
Margie has no independent agency. She exists to have intercourse with Craig and then die. Her entire purpose is to add a sex scene to the book. Furthermore, that sex scene in no way has any bearing on the rest of the book. You could remove Margie as a character and nothing would change.
Perhaps the only woman in the story that got spared is Tiffany, the goth librarian maybe-ghost. And she only exists for one scene!
As you can see, this story does not treat its female characters very well, and I would bet that it displays a greater truth about how the author sees women. So on top of being blatantly racist and homophobic, we can see that the book is also very sexist.
And we as authors can be better than this. It's good to examine how your characters are written. We all have subconscious biases; strive to overcome them.
There's something else I want to discuss, here, and that's Mr. Rayburn's use of shock value.
Shock value is the use of imagery that is intended to shock, surprise, or disgust the reader. Some people will tell you that any kind of shock value is bad. I disagree with this. I think there are definitely good use cases for shock value.
The key is to not use shock value for the sake of it being shock value. Well-used shock value complements the narrative: if I want my characters to be scared of a monster, I can have that monster viciously rip someone in half. It's gory and a bit gratuitous, but it establishes the monster as a big threat to both the characters and the reader, and it makes a greater impression on both because it is shocking. The shock value of the scene serves a purpose.
Contrast this with Mr. Rayburn's use of shock value:
“It’s a damn shame what they did with that crowbar,” said Underwood, gazing at the hunk of steel protruding from Margie’s vagina.
Yeah.
There's one more elephant in the room. You know it. I know it. It's the rape scene.
I want to condemn the rape scene. I really, really want to. I had this whole thing written out about how it was bad writing because it was a scene that lacked a purpose in the greater narrative. That's what I wanted to do.
But on further reflection, I realized that I can't make that argument.
There's a piece of writing advice that applies, here. It came from the mind of Kurt Vonnegut, a genius and my favourite author of all time. It was number four on his list of eight rules for creative writing.
Here it is:
4. Every sentence must do one of two things—reveal character or advance the action.
Now, this was originally meant more for short story writing; a novel gives you a little more freedom to add auxiliary details. But the basic idea is a good thing to keep in mind for any author writing any form of fiction.
But now we have to apply it to the rape scene.
Does the scene in question advance the action? I would argue no. It is a scene that sits in isolation; it is never brought up again after it happens, Mark loses his memories afterwards, Kristy never says anything about it, and the other main characters of the novel don't even know it happened. This story isn't about rape, either; it has nothing to say on the matter. So, no, I don't think it advances the action.
But the second question is, "Does it reveal character?"
And the answer is: yes. It reveals Mark to be a monster. It's the climax of his downwards spiral of a character arc, the moment he gives up all pretense. It's what the novel's been building Mark up for the entire time.
So yes, it has a purpose. A very obvious one, in retrospect. And because it has a purpose, I can't condemn it on the grounds of bad writing.
I'm not saying the scene is good. I hate it. I think the way it's portrayed is disgusting. I hate that it ends with this:
A bright, blue light began to encompass his vision. Soon he would be dead, as would Kristy. He just hoped Craig and Todd were strong enough to fight the battle without him. He hoped, as he lost consciousness, that God was on their side. Because they were going to need him.
I hate it.
But I'm supposed to hate it. That's why it's there.
So I have to grit my teeth and move on.
Part 5: Why This Book?
I discovered this book by doing a Google search for "worst book ever written". I found it in a list of such books. I looked at the Amazon reviews and knew I'd found a winner.
But, as I read it, I realized something a little more personal: I actually see a lot of my younger self in Mr. Rayburn's writing. Not the racist or sexist or homophobic parts, thankfully, but the desire to be seen as twisted and edgy and broken? Yeah, I was like that too.
Maybe I'm just projecting, but let's be honest, looking back at my older work...
It isn't all that different from his.
Aaron Rayburn is what I think I would have become if I'd never joined this community, never had such good role models, never gotten the feedback I got. Put another way, I think fanfiction saved me from becoming Mr. Rayburn. Or at least helped me grow out of being him.
Don't get me wrong. I'm still a massive edgelord, and I still suck at writing.
But not as much as I used to.
Our fanfiction community is a great thing, I think, for all its ills. It gives new writers the opportunity to work freely, to get some feedback from a dedicated audience, to learn from better authors and to try new things, and to be creative and practice in an environment where the stakes are fairly low. I owe this community a lot.
So, here's to you guys. Thank you for saving me from myself.
Got a little mushy there. Oh well.
And now: the final review.
Ah-hem.
This is not the worst book ever written. There are much worse books out there.
What it is is offensive. It manages to be racist, very homophobic, and very, very sexist. There's even a rape scene, described in pornographic detail. The author really wants you to think he's sick and twisted, and tries his hardest to convince you of that at every turn.
But beyond that, it's simply mediocre. The prose and story are amateurish. The characters are inconsistent; everyone behaves like they're twelve. The plot twists are so telegraphed that it's irritating how long it takes for the characters to catch up to the reader. The book can't even keep its own theology straight.
There are worse books out there. But that doesn't make this one good.
And that's a wrap! Thank you for sticking with me and my dumb blogs, folks. I know it wasn't a new Detective Rarity, or a new chapter of Ruin, or any of the other things people have been waiting on from me. And I'm sorry about that. I've been in an awful rut since the beginning of the year, haven't been able to write at all, and I thought doing a Vs. might be a good way to get my ass back in gear. We'll see if it works, I guess.
Special thanks this time around to Aragon for some expert advice. He's way better than me at pretty much everything. If you haven't already (and that's unlikely), go check him out!
If you enjoyed this blog series, thank you! And if you really enjoyed it, and want to support me, you can leave me a tip here. No pressure, though.
If you have any suggestions for next year's book, please let me know! I'd like to do an actually published novel next time, if possible. I feel bad for only picking on self- or vanity-published stuff.
Anyway, I'm going to go try and write something.
Signing off,
RB
What about Eragon? Or is this only bad books?
The best way to survive a terrible novel.
I don't think you need to feel forced to praise it in any way, however. The character arc climax could have been portrayed with a different horrible act. Wanton child murder? Cannibalism? Or he could have just, y'know, said that it happened, in one of the few instances where telling is a great deal preferable to showing. <.< Point is, feel free to hate it fully, I know I do.
Haha, same, buddy.
haha, same, buddy c.c;