Given
the preponderance of plot in much writing done today, setting often gets
shortchanged. It’s not number one on many people’s list of features in a work
of fiction. Plot, of course comes first. Many are aware of the need for
character development and for good dialogue, but setting often gets little
attention. Yet it is an important element, one that must not be neglected, and
one that skillful writers exploit to their advantage.
Setting
is the background to a story, where the story takes places. It is both the
locale—the place where the action transpires, as in London, Paris, Bakersfield, New York City, New Haven; it is also the location: a bar, a golf course, a haunted house, a
suburban house that is anything but haunted, the countryside. But it is much
more. Setting creates effect. It gives the mood and atmosphere to a story.
Mood
and atmosphere is vital, and it’s a good idea to determine it early on. One of
my all-time favorite passages that sets the mood is the beginning of Edgar Alan
Poe’s classic story, “The Fall of the House of Usher.” I will quote the opening
section here in full: During the whole of a dull, dark, and
soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low
in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly
dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the
evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
Is
this going to be a happy story? I don’t think so. Poe sets the mood up right
away. It is going to be a gloomy story, an oppressive
story, and a story of melancholy. And if you’ve read the tale of a mad brother
who buries his sister alive, you know that Poe did what he wanted to do. He produced a
narrative that equals his opening sentence, and then some.
Poe
gives the story a psychological
environment, which is another term literary critics use for setting. I like
it. The setting creates this kind of feeling. It puts us in a certain mental
and emotional disposition. Skillful writers know how to create this
psychological environment and set it in such a way that it contributes to the
story.
Another
example is one of my very favorite stories, “Janus,” by Ann Beattie. It is the story of a realtor. The story is filled with empty
houses, empty rooms, and the quiet of someone preparing a home for viewing by
potential purchasers. This sets the mood of distant loneliness in Andrea, the
realtor’s, life. She is married but not entirely happy. She had an affair
some time ago that faded away. She is still married but seems alienated from
her husband. And she is obsessed with a bowl.
The bowl was something her old lover bought for her
at an antique sale, and Andrea always uses it when she shows a home. It is one of
the “devices” she uses to make a home look more attractive when it is being
shown. People sometimes want to buy the bowl. Once or twice she leaves it in a
house and panics until she can recover it. Somehow it is symbolic—perhaps the
empty bowl represents her empty life. It sits in the vacant, unlived-in houses
that are the setting of much of the story.
Janus is the Roman god of the New Year, and he has two faces, one looking back and one looking
forward. But he is also the god of doorways, of entrances, of passages. Going
through doors is important in a home tour. Bettie uses setting—in this case, empty houses,
numerous rooms, doors to pass through, quiet, vacancy—to set the psychological atmosphere
of this story about a woman who lives in an emptiness she does not understand.
These are two examples of skillful use of setting.
Many writers today seem to think that setting is a distraction, that we can
simply say a person is in a house, on a spaceship, or in an airplane and this
will suffice. Failing to exploit the element of setting, however—failing to
create mood and atmosphere, to establish a psychological environment—will impoverish
a story and cause it to tend toward superficiality. Set the mood. Create the
atmosphere. This will take the story into full expressiveness.
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