storytelling

I have always told students, and I will say here again, that there's no one way, no magic formula, and only one way to measure the effectiveness of one approach over another: if you get the story down, then it is right for you.

My own process is opaque for me, at best. I feel things cooking beneath the surface, sometimes. There's a bit of a mental itch, the sense of somethng coming to fruition, and then it erupts, in a small way or a larger one. At that point it has to be put down on the page, or it will dissipate. In a really good stretch I write between ten and fifteen double spaced pages a day. More usually I'm happy if I get three or four solid pages down. Sometimes it's only two. Sometimes those two pages are so painfully won that I wonder why I ever thought I could write another novel, or anything at all.

Just now I'm in a productive period, where the story is boiling over and I'm putting out about fifteen pages a day. In bed late at night, too weary to read, I have the urge to get the laptop and continue writing. While I'm driving sentences are snaking through my head. Images jump into view. My fingers twitch; I write with my finger in the air, and don't even realize I'm doing it. This was first brought to my attention by my husband, who refuses to sit on my right at the movies because I write on his hand the whole time.

Mostly I just let this happen and try not to analyze it too closely. Even writing about it in this limited way makes me wonder if I'm quite balanced at times like these, but hey. Love me, love my dog.

Posted by at 8:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Posted by at 3:25 PM | Permalink

Robyn posted some interesting links about emotion and facial expression, and now I have to go track down the Ekman books. Will report back.

Every once in a while the muse smiles and waves her hands and the story just -- flows. Like a river at high water, just now, and am I complaining? Not a bit. I'm just treading very softly, lest I upset her somehow. Excuse me while I go write.

Posted by at 7:34 AM | Permalink

All this is an offshoot of the perennial problem of describing a character's reactions. You can use the short hand: his expression gave away his surprise, or you can try to be more descriptive: his eyes bulged and his brows climbed half way up his forehead.

The second one is clumsy; the first one is empty. Also, without considering what the mouth is doing, you don't know what kind of surprise we're talking about: happy, unwelcome, embarrassing. This first mouth looks embarrassed to me, lopsided, teeth flashing. The second one looks like a happy surprise on the basis of the wide smile, but it's also uneasy.

I really do have to start making notes of how this is handled whenever I'm reading. It would be a useful database, and I think quite a revealing one.

Posted by at 4:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Posted by at 7:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

... don't shove things in [the readers'] faces. Let them watch the characters act and interact, and if you've done your job right, they will figure the important stuff out for themselves.

I think it's true that any author can only write to their own understanding of story. What makes a good story for me personally is what I put down on paper in the hope that it will work for a wider audience, but of course it's not going to suite everybody.

For example. I'm not a big fan of Hemingway. For a whole variety of reasons, his stuff just doesn't work for me, and what that means is only this: I'm not the right reader for his work. I'm also not the right reader for Bronte (don't yell. I just have never warmed to The Sisters), for Dan Brown, or for most of the minimalists. I am the right reader for Austen, Dickens, Monro, Morrison, Garrett, Helprin, Kinsale, Crusie, Ivory, and dozens of others. I want to like Virginia Woolf, but I usually fall asleep over her stuff. Her failing? Absolutely not.

As a reader, you walk along the long buffet and pick and choose among the things that appeal to your particular tastes. Because others tell you that James Joyce is nutritious and good for you doesn't mean he'll delight your palate. Because that huge bowl of marshallow fluff streaked with chocolate, gummy bears, and pure sugar comes with a big sign that says no nutritional value doesn't mean that you might not really enjoy a serving.

Can you educate your palate? This is a question that some with answer with a strong affirmative, but I think it's a difficult task. People with truly eclectic tastes are those, I think, who were exposed to a wide range of story types in their childhood. After a certain age, you can force a person to read and analyze Greek tragedies or Proust or John Donne, but I think it's pretty rare for an adult to develop a true new craving. While it's true that there's a landscape larger than the one you see, after a certain age it becomes harder and harder to put on your traveling shoes.

So when I write about 'the reader' I'm writing about 'my ideal reader' -- a theoretical construct, my personal Harvey.

Posted by at 10:47 AM | Permalink

I won't get more copies for another couple weeks at least, but let me take this opportunity to say: sign up if you're interested in winning a signed first edition, because I'm drawing the name out of the hat (box) on August 15. There are 94 entries thus far; if there are 200 entries by the fifteenth, I'll draw a second name and give away a second book. Here's the link to the contest entry. I will send the book anywhere in the world the winner happens to be, airmail.

Posted by at 11:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I'll try to gather myself together for more on backstory tomorrow; in the meantime, Catherine wrote in response to the series of posts on characterization and backstory:

If I finish a book and want to know “more” and not just “what happens next”, then I know the author has truly engaged me in the world he/she created. Pacing and the amount of detail can correlate, but one doesn’t necessarily have slow the other down, if done correctly. I think that is sort of what you were driving at yesterday...

On a different matter, I've had a few inquiries lately about signed books:

I have destroyed two paperbacks of Into the Wilderness, from reading and re-reading, and lending to many people. Is it possible to obtain a hard back copy? how about a signed one?

In the meantime, here's my suggestion. You could contact Village Books (my local independent, a store very good to authors in the area) by email. If they happen to have the book you want, I believe they'd be willing to mail it to you. You'd just have to ask them to contact me, because I'm always happy to stop by there to sign books. I will also be doing a reading/signing at Village Books in early September.

Or you could just wait until the post office box situation is sorted out. At that point it will be possible to mail me books to sign, as long as sufficient postage is included to return it to you. In the meantime, you can probably track down a hard cover copy of ITW or any of the other books by means of the various used book websites... except I just checked, and it looks like such copies are pretty rare. This is a shocker, $190 for a first edition first printing, unsigned. Wait here while I go collect my senses. Edited to add: the very helpful Stephanie just left a comment with info on isbn.nu . I had no idea this service existed, and I'm very impressed. Thanks, Stephanie. Here's the direct link she provided:

isbn.nu makes short work of a hardcover search.

And a final note in this rather scattered post: Scalzi's quick analysis of the presidential candidates is both very funny and sadly right on the money.

Posted by at 4:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I like to think of this as a basic commandment: never underestimate your readers; treat them with respect, and they'll stick around.

That means, in part, that you don't shove things in their faces. Let them watch the characters act and interact, and if you've done your job right, they will figure the important stuff out for themselves.

Maria Capstone was 87 but she was still sharp as a tack.

In the ten seconds the Maguires spent wondering if they should offer to help the dignified old lady with her groceries, Mrs. Capstone had already hatched a plan to separate the newlyweds from their savings.

Maria liked to gamble.

Maria Capstone could get a craps game going in a nunnery. ***Joshua at Noematic gets the credit for this, he came up with it during a brain storming session in one of my creative writing classes.

So then, how does this fit in with backstory? When do you provide information, and when do you let the reader extract information on their own?

I would love to say there is a magic formula to figure this out, but I fear this is one of those areas where the magical, mystical 'inner ear' does the work. That is, it's a matter of experience and practice and rhythm. I find that I often feel the need to set out a smorgasbord of information, some direct, some of it quite nuanced, right up front. These are the opening paragraphs of a novel that's been in progress for quite a long time:

For a few months now, Kate Buongiovanni has been wooing a car thief.

Nobody would think it of her. Kate strikes most people as a woman of more persistence than daring; subdued by good fortune, all her sharp edges worn away by contentment. Happily married, successful in a business she loves, money enough to buy what she likes: Mephisto walking shoes, Peruvian sweaters, Dakota pottery; her kitchen walls, hand stenciled, are hung with antique copper molds in the shape of roosters, half moons, leaping fish. She pays handsomely for housecleaning and ironing. A boy from down the street mows the lawn, stacks the firewood; they have an accountant, a broker, an attorney. She is on a first name basis with the fund raisers at Planned Parenthood, Amnesty International, CASA.

And yet Kate contemplates the larcenous heart. She puts a great deal of thought into attracting a car thief: on a Friday afternoon she drives into downtown Trenton and leaves the car on a side street, gift-wrapped children's books (Where the Wild Things Are; Curious George; The Borrowers) piled on the driver's seat. Unlocked. The window rolled down a few inches.

The books disappear along with the tire gauge and a half pack of mints, but the car is waiting for her when she comes back. On her next solo trip (The Phantom Tollbooth; Half Magic; Harriet the Spy) Kate ties a hank of red yarn to the key in the ignition, but even such a bold invitation goes unanswered. It seems that nobody is desperate enough to take on this crate of a car, this thirty year old, mustard-colored Volvo with a temperamental clutch and thirty thousand miles.

Under other circumstances she would talk to Mike about this challenge, but the fact is this: her husband loves this monument to automotive engineering as another man might love a senile and smelly dog, and Kate loves her husband.

This is, of course, my approach. It's not the only one; it may not work for every reader, or even for most readers, and I can only describe the way this develops for me in a very rough way. This is why some people claim that writing can't be taught. I would ay that some things about writing can't be taught, and this balance between providing backstory directly and nuancing backstory is probably one of them.

Edited to add: part of this post is recycled from a much older post.

Posted by at 11:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

If this term is unfamiliar to you, it just means the sum total of the character's experience prior to the time to story begins. A thirty three year old woman with a degree in biology, a failed marriage, a dying mother and a winning lottery ticket has a tremendous amount of complicated backstory that makes up her personality, her point of view, and the way she will react to the situations you put her in. You created her, so you have to know all about her; you know far more about her than you will ever share with your readers. That's the key: you know, but you don't tell unless it's crucial to moving this particular story along.

For example, maybe this character of yours with the winning lottery ticket (let's call her Naomi) is going to have a rough go of it because she has always been someone who likes routine and order and dislikes surprises. You could just tell your readers that, but you're writing a story and not a case history. You could let your readers see that Naomi always eats the same thing for breakfast: cornflakes, two percent milk, a teaspoon of sugar, a cup of mint tea, a banana. Every day. Day in, day out. You could show them how she organizes her books and cds by title, author, genre, color, size. You could have her interacting with a very troubled, very crazy extended family.

All these things could work, and you might use them. It's easier to pick and chose with a main character, because everything is potentially important.

But what about Naomi's massage therapist? She goes to see this guy once a week every week, same time. It's her one luxury. She talks to him the way some people talk to a therapist, and he provides feedback. His name is Jorge, he's very good at his job, he's a nice guy, he's funny. How much of his backstory do we need? Do we need to know he had a twin sister who died young, and who he misses a great deal? How about his home life, his relationship with his landlord, his politics? If you're writing this story you need to know these things, but you have to be selective about which details you supply for your reader.

Part of the issue is that in reading a story, the reader takes an active part in making it come alive. You may describe your main characters, but the picture you've got in your head of Naomi is going to be very different from the one your readers put together. This is why people are usually disappointed when films are made into movies, because it's impossible to meet the expectations of all the readers.

This is a big topic and not one to be dissected quickly, but if it's of interest to those of you who write, I'll pick at it a little more.

Posted by at 2:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I am often tempted to spend more time on very minor, very fleeting characters than I really need to. I don't like glossing over anybody, though of course I do it from time to time; it's unavoidable. But what about people who have a small role to play and then move tidily to the background to provide atmosphere? How much do you want to see?

It's also important to remember that the details provided tell the reader as much about the person observing them (the POV character) as they do about the person being observed. Here's a raw piece of dialogue which contains the introduction of a minor character.

"You better pay attention to the game. Tab's about to steal second."

"You know Tab?"

"He's been over to the house. I know all these guys, except the ZZ Top type playing shortstop."

"ZZ Top?"

"The beard."

"Ah. That's Wyatt Horton. Minored in low-end hallucinogens when he was at Ogilvie back in the day, been teaching English at the high school the last ten years. He's supposed to be a good teacher."

"According to who?"

What you don't know is, of course, a lot. You don't know if Wyatt's got classic good looks or terrible acne scars or if he's bald. You don't know if he has halitosis or a Boston accent or a taste for expensive wines. Do you need to know these things? Will they add anything to the story, or to the experience of reading the story?

This is the kind of thing I struggle with all the time. I try to err on the side of not too much, but reserve the right to go back and provide more detail. When I'm reading, I like to have a good description of characters. Major characters especially, but also minor characters. When an author takes the time and effort to make me really see the flight attendant or the clerk or the mayor whose droning on at the podium, I feel taken care of. I'm in the hands of a good storyteller, and I can relax and let it flow.

This is my take on things, but I wonder about other people's preferences.

Posted by at 2:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

"[...] the actor, the mimic, the clown, who would amuse himself by going to a hotel with a friend, pretending to be a valet, and proclaiming in a loud voice all the secret vices of his master, until the whole hotel was in an uproar.  He adored buffoonery.  He liked putting on disguises.  He would throw a Bokhara robe round his shoulders and wrap a turban round his head and pretend to be some visiting emir from the mysterious lands of the east.  On a train journey he was in his element.  If he was traveling with his mother he would pretend she was a countess and himself a very unimportant servant in her employ, and would watch the behavior of the other passengers toward the bewildered countess with the wide-eyed wonder and delight.  He had the trick of making a walk in the country an adventure in high drama.  Everything excited him."

This makes me sad (as I often am) that I don't live in Manhattan.

Posted by at 7:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Grandmother of Eight Makes Hole in One
Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers
Drunk Gets Nine Months in Violin Case
Chef Throws His Heart into Helping Feed Needy
Arson Suspect is Held in Massachusetts Fire
Ban On Soliciting Dead in Trotwood
Lansing Residents Can Drop Off Trees
Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half

Some of these from Enjoy The Music, and the link from Language Log. There's a nicely put together summary of classic transformational grammar structural rules and trees here. Syntactic theory moved beyond this stage a log time ago, but it remains a useful tool. Linguists use headlines like the ones above to demonstrate structural issues. Editors could use this kind of basic syntactic mapping, too, as seen here. But I don't think most of them do. Just a guess.

Posted by at 8:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

tomorrow a long(er) entry about something more substantive.

Posted by at 1:42 PM | Permalink

Wrongful Death is different in tone from Harmful Intent, and it took me a little longer to get into it. I had to stop myself from reading quickly and really concentrate on the first ten pages. I have rarely invested my reading time so well. Wrongful Death is about things as diverse as personal injury law and the Bosnian war-crime tribunals, mother-daughter relationships and forensic pathology. Kerr pulls it all together with such flair, you can only sit back in amazement and admiration. The final section of the novel takes place in court, and I doubt anyone will ever write a better trial sequence.

What is best about this novel, though, is Kerr's absolutely wonderful rendering of three very different women, each so clearly drawn and so distinct from the other that you hear their voices without trying. The next time I hear somebody claiming that men can't write women, I'll hand them this book.

Wrongful Death deals with terrible tragedy, human weakness and grief, but it is, in the end, hopeful. It has my highest recommendation.

Posted by at 5:33 PM | Permalink

This is actually more of a prequel, in which we go back to Reacher's last days as a military cop and the final case he investigates. For the first time we get a better look at his family history, and high time -- I like backstory, and this is a good one. It's especially welcome because Reacher is anything but introspective; his quick mind and flair for reading people and situations is always focused outward. Although he does not see himself this way, he has always struck me as a man looking for a way to connect but without the tools to do that. I like this addition to the series because it does in fact give us a better look at the Reacher who prefers not to be seen.

Posted by at 5:24 PM | Permalink

In fact, this novel reminded me a little of those sweet, sad, sentimental movies of the era. A good daughter of a good family wants to break out of the life that's been set up for her; she makes some good decisions and some very bad decisions, and thus it goes.

I've been thinking about this for days, and my conclusion is this: it's next to impossible to get any complexity or depth or subtlety into a story of a life if it's told in first person, present tense. Present tense works best in scenes that are action-driven, and that's not what we've got here. First person is by definition limiting, so we never get out of Lucia's sanitized, idealized memories, and thus Trigiani has small number of tools to work with. She does attempt to fix this by adding on a present day story at beginning and end about a young neighbor (the audience for her story) but that doesn't quite work either.

Trigiani's readers are many and loyal, and they will disagree with me, but this novel struck me as hollow, stiff and more than a little artificial. That's unfortunate, because she did have some interesting characters to work with.

Posted by at 9:14 AM | Permalink

Book clubs I get. Book clubs are very popular in my part of the world, and in theory I like everything about them. I like getting together with people to talk about a specific book, and establishing friendships that way. But, (confession coming) I have never lasted in a book club for very long. I always get impatient with the books chosen, and most usually I can't make myself read something to meet a book club deadline if I have no interest in it. As book clubs are by necessity a democratic kind of institution, I'm just not book club material.

It has been pointed out to me that this has to do with the fact that I taught for a long time (and my classrooms were not models of democracy, I'll admit that: my style was more of a benevolent monarch). Thus, book clubs don't feel right because somebody else is setting the syllabus. Which was a gentle way of saying that I'm too controlling. Or too stubborn or independent or lazy. Any or all of the above.

Maybe I should go back to teaching?

Nah.

Posted by at 7:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Posted by at 7:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Here's a fun game... First, look up the most popular and critically-acclaimed books, movies, and music on Amazon. Click on "Customer Reviews," and sort them by "Lowest Rating First." Hilarity ensues! It's the Amazon.com Knee-Jerk Contrarian Game!

I bought this DVD as a way to show off my new DVD player to my family. I had seen the movie several times in the theater, and knew its bright colors would be beautiful on my TV screen.
To my horror, I saw that Columbia had seen fit to alter a masterpiece. Yes, the film came complete with those horrific black bars at the top and bottom of my screen, which obscured about half of the picture. I've seen those bars on the "artsy" videos on TV, and I sometimes enjoy them. But this is a classic work of art! You don't try to make it "hip" and "relevant" with modern touches. It would be like adding a moustache to the Mona Lisa.
Until Columbia drops the act and releases "Lawrence of Arabia" without those bars, letting us see all of the picture, stay away.

I wanted to like this novel, but I just couldn't. Like all of Patchett's other works, this one is boring and hard to read. After I bought the book and read it, I felt like I had been tricked by an evil magician. I felt like an unwilling participant at a magic show--the lady who gets sawed in half. The plot is jerky and lackluster; it's predictable and rather dull. The characters are slippery and distant. There is no energy, no rabbit out of the hat. It's a one woman show where the magic is missing. It deserves a zero but the marks don't go quite that low.

Posted by at 9:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The reviews can be limp with distaste or bristling with sarcasm or even positive -- but one thing is pretty constant: I almost always have the really strong sense that the reviewer didn't really read the book beyond a casual skimming. Here's the thing: reviews -- even mean spirited ones, even nasty ones -- would be easier to take if the process were less opaque. The big places who exist primarily to produce reviews (Kirkus, for example) do so anonymously. The books are farmed out like so many little lambs, and the reviewers are paid far less than the cost of a rib roast for a review. They are often frustrated writers and students of writing.

Being reviewed by PW is a little bit like being sewn (blindfolded) into a sack with a very unstable bipolar person who may, or may not be, on meds, but who certainly has a weapon.

I know this sounds like the mewling of a disgruntled mother after her baby has failed to win the beauty contest. After all, I didn't have to write the book, and I didn't have to go find an agent or let her sell it or take the money. Reviews are part of the process and the price.

So it's time to gird my loins. That phrase always strikes me as particularly funny -- as a kid it gave me a mental image of a sirloin wrapped in bacon (there's a theme here, I notice, blood and meat and cutting) -- so to cheer myself up I went over to the OED. This is part of the entry under loins:

2. Chiefly Biblical and poet. This part of the body, regarded    a. as the part of the body that should be covered by clothing and about which the clothes are bound; so, to gird (up) the loins (lit. and fig.), to prepare for strenuous exertion.

    1526 TINDALE Matt. iii. 4 This Jhon had his garment off camels heer and a gerdell off a skynne aboute his loynes. 1535 COVERDALE Prov. xxxi. 17 She gyrdeth hir loynes with strength. 1605 SHAKES. Lear II. iii. 10 My face Ile grime with filth, Blanket my loines. 1667 MILTON P.L. IX. 1096 Some Tree whose broad smooth Leaves together sowd, And girded on our loyns, may cover round Those middle parts. 1742 COLLINS Ode Poet. Charac. 21 To gird their blest prophetick loins. 1753 SMART Hilliad I. 27 Her loins with patch-work cincture were begirt. 1833 L. RITCHIE Wand. by Loire 17 It was necessary, therefore, to gird up our loins and walk. 1855 BROWNING Statue & Bust, The unlit lamp and the ungirt loin. 1877 BRYANT Odyss. v. 280 And round about her loins Wound a fair golden girdle. 1880 MRS. E. LYNN LINTON Rebel of Fam. II. v, He was standing like the impersonation of masculine punctuality with loins girded.

Posted by at 8:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I've touched on this issue before, but never in depth -- and I'm not going there now, either. But I would hope that people inform themselves and think about the impact on the author before they make their buying decisions. Points to consider:

1. the only sale that counts, as far as the publisher is concerned, is the first one. If copy x is sold ten times, that's nine readers whose buying decisions don't count for anything. And before you ask: of course the story is the thing, and of course kind and thoughtful and generous reader feedback is wonderful and gratifying. But those things don't pay the rent.

2. If an author doesn't sell well enough, there will be no more books from that author, which will leave all booksellers (new and used) -- and the readers -- in the lurch. Not to mention the author, who will have to rededicate him or herself to short-order cooking or bookkeeping or whatever else it is that does pay the rent.

Do I have a fair, thoughtful solution to this problem? Nope. Please do let me know if you come up with one.

Posted by at 8:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

I suspect these are the same people who, when they see a baby on the ultrasound screen turn their faces away because they want to be surprised at the birth on the boy/girl question. These are the people who do not hunt for hidden presents and certainly don't carefully unwrap and then re-wrap them; this kind of person likes surprise parties. These are, in a word, saintly people, and I have nothing in common with them.

I am a spoiler connoisseur. Others seek out fine wines or elusive first editions; I look for spoilers.

I respect everyone's right to be saintly, really, but I don't understand how it's possible to not want to know, right now. I would gladly read the scripts for the entire new season of Deadwood. Reading the scripts would not take anything away from my enjoyment when I finally get to sit down and watch these shows. How the actors and directors and photography people bring it to life is going to be enough of a surprise. In the same way, reading the end of a novel first doesn't hurt my enjoyment of the rest of it. I like knowing where I'm going, so I can enjoy the ride. I may have read Pride and Prejudice fifty times -- but every time I enjoy it just as much, and maybe, possibly, more. Because I know whole passages by heart doesn't matter. Will Darcy finally get round to actually approaching Elizabeth? Oh, the agony. Oh, the suspense. So you see, spoilers really, really don't matter, except in this way: I want to know. Now.

Call me names if you like; they are all true. I'm a spoiler slut. It would be pretty hard to bribe me with money, but to the person who whispers in my ear hey! you! wanna know all about Farscape: The Peacekeeper Wars? -- in that person's hands, I am putty.

Before you ask, no, I won't tell you what happens in Fire Along the Sky. Yes, I am an inconsistent spoiler slut. I will not tell you because I'm afraid you don't actually really want to know. So no spoilers for you. Unless you've got something interesting to whisper in my ear, of course.

mwahahahahaha.

Posted by at 7:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Here's an idea: if it hits two hundred entries, I'll pull two names out of the hat and give a signed first edition to both of them.

Posted by at 5:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

There are painters who transform the sun to a yellow spot, but there are others who with the help of their art and their intelligence, transform a yellow spot into the sun.

-- Pablo Picasso

Posted by at 11:45 AM | Permalink

I have been critical of Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code, you'll notice, and every once in a while somebody posts a comment to that review to let me know I'm not alone in my real dislike of every. little. thing. about that novel. It's good to have pals in crankiness, so I thank those people. I especially thank Shelly, who sent me a link to Dave Barry's column on TDC called 'The DaVinci Code, Cracked'. It made my day. Thanks, Shelly.

Posted by at 7:52 AM | Permalink

Posted by at 7:00 AM | Permalink

Yaaaahoooo.

Second, there will be a 'teaser' (is this new media speak for preview?) of the miniseries during the Season Eight premiere of Stargate SG-1 on Friday, July 9, at 9/8C (yes, that's tonight.)

Yes, I'm pleased. Yes, I am a middle-aged woman making a point of proclaiming, publically, that I really like and admire this science fiction drama, this excellent adventure in storytelling, and that it deserves to be watched. You could watch it too. You'd be in good company:

And despite the cliché of science-fiction fans as teenage boys, viewers of "Farscape" are mostly adult professionals. Almost uniquely among science-fiction shows, it draws equal numbers of men and women. And a roll call of fans online turned up plenty of doctors, fire-fighters, counselors, teachers and so on — in addition to the predictable number of software engineers.[...]"In my day job I help run a psychiatric center," [Charlotte] explained. "Any random month, we're dealing with close calls and human misery: abused kids, well-armed ex-husbands, breathtaking stupidity. If it's a trainwreck or a meltdown, I'm one of the people who get called. At the end of the week it's a nice reward, to be able to relax into "Farscape." It isn't my usual thing; it wouldn't have caught my attention if my husband hadn't sat me down in front of it. But those characters resonate for me, in a powerful and refreshing way. They know that friendship, decency, kindness and wit help keep you going — but so do silliness, good sex and black leather pants."
"Don't Mention the F-Word", by Clare Sainsbury