Jim Butcher is one of my favourite authors. Nobody is going to accuse him of writing great literature, but his books are damn good fun. However, what I admire most about his books is not the characters, or the world-building (though they’re both pretty good) – it’s the plotting.
With Butcher’s books, I can tell that he has plotted not only each book, but the whole series, in advance. Little incidents in earlier books turn out to be important in later books. Major characters don’t just show up; they’re hinted at earlier.
Take Butcher’s latest book, Skin Game (Harry Dresden book 15). One of the new characters in it, who turns out to be quite important, and whom there are signs that we will see more of – was foreshadowed in an earlier book. Not in any obvious way, but the groundwork for believing in him as a character had already been laid. So we, as readers, already have a conceptual slot to put him in, and we also have some background knowledge that fleshes out the character without Butcher having to do any tedious explaining.
In another incident, a character does something appallingly stupid, meaning that a whole bunch of assumptions that readers have made over previous books suddenly have to be junked. Now, when some authors do that, it’s really disappointing. You feel cheated. The author has suddenly changed direction on you with no warning, and that’s just wrong. But when Butcher does it, once you’ve got over the shock, you sit back and you think “Yeah…. he’s absolutely right.” Because this particular incident made me re-evaluate that character, and made me realise that I’d been wrong (and so had everyone else) all along. That what I’d expected would happen wouldn’t have been the right thing at all. That the stupid thing that the character does was not the result of Butcher needing a sudden plot change and sacrificing readers’ expectations for the quick fix, but entirely due to the fact that Butcher knows those characters and his world a lot better than his readers do. The incident to which I refer did not end up making me feel betrayed, but instead made me realise that I’d been wrong about that character all along – and that the ‘stupid thing’ was actually inevitable. The character would have done it, or something like it, sooner or later. In some ways, that moment of revelation was one of the best parts of the book.
This beautiful plotting means that you never have one of those “WTF???” moments, as a major baddie suddenly appears out of nowhere, or the series as a whole gradually veers off course (and possibly over a narrative cliff). Instead, you not only have a great story, but – as you read the series – you get to sit back and admire the sheer artistry of what Butcher is doing with the series as a whole. Everything interlocks, like a puzzle. There are no flabby bits flopping around looking significant at first but turning out to be irrelevant. It’s tight; it’s efficient. It works. Things move on, move forward.
He’s also subtle. You don’t get big flashing lights that say “Hey! Small but significant point here!” It’s only after he gets to the denouement that you figure out where all the little signposts were. Not only does this preserve the excitement of the books because you can’t always predict what’s going to happen next, but you also get to re-enjoy previous books as you realise the true significance of bits to which you hadn’t really paid much attention.
Butcher’s Dresden Files is the best demonstration I can think of that careful plotting means that a series of books is greater than simply the sum of its parts. And you know what? Spotting the hooks in Skin Game makes me want to read the next book just to find out what they mean…