Exposition lesson, Part 1

I filled up my car today for less than twenty bucks. (It should be noted that my car has a pretty small gas tank.) What a good feeling that was! That’s a genuine economic stimulus payment. I can’t help thinking that people all over this country are enjoying the feeling of extra weight left in their wallets, and are getting ready to do some spending they’ve been putting off.

I’m probably wrong, but it feels that way to me.



I’m reading another Dean Koontz novel
(I’ve pretty much read all his books now). It’s one of his re-issued early works and, typically, shows numerous marks of artistic immaturity. Particularly notable are the lame jokes (his jokes tend to be a little lame even nowadays, but he’s made great progress).

But what really caught my attention was his problem with exposition, a problem I’ve discussed before in reference to other early efforts. I’m not going to excerpt any of his scenes here, but I’ll compose a Koontz-like chunk of dialogue.

Slade stepped into the captain’s office. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.

Captain Cherhofsky tipped a hand toward the visitor’s chair. “Sit down, Morrie,” he said without expression. Slade sat down.

“What’s this I hear about you asking for the Monroe files?” Cherhofsky asked.

Slade shifted in his chair. “They’re relevant to this extortion case I’m working.”

“That’s b******, and you know it. A fifteen year old murder? What’s that got to do with some nut threatening to blow up dry cleaners?”

“A name came up. I’m pretty sure the guy was a witness on the Monroe thing. I just wanted to check it out.”

“And that would help us, how?”

“OK, I was fishing. I had a hunch. You’ve followed up hunches. Every cop has.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Cherhofsky, leaning back in his leather chair. It was a beautiful chair. The nicest chair in the station. Nobody had any idea how Cherhofsky had snagged it. It sure wasn’t city issue. “Oh yeah, I get hunches. For instance, right now I’ve got a hunch you’re trying to re-open Monroe. Again. On city time. When we’ve got hot cases to solve.”

Slade fought the urge to hunch his shoulders, fuming. He knew he’d been made, but he wasn’t about to give it up without a fight. Especially with Cherhofsky, who’d had it in for him ever since they’d been rookies together.

“Unsolved murder is always hot. Especially when it’s a kid who got killed.”

Cherhofsky shook his head. “What is it with you, Slade? We’ve got a million unsolved murders down in Records. There’s not an officer on the force who hasn’t seen things he can’t get out of his head—things that stay with us the rest of our lives. Wicked and evil, stupid and evil, random and evil. Faces and voices that keep us awake at night. But we keep doing the job. We move past it. We accept the fact that we’re not God, not angels, not some g****** CSI on TV. We’re just guys doing a job the best way we can. Things fall through the cracks. People fall through the cracks. You understand that. You live with it just like the rest of us. Except for the Monroe case. That one you won’t let go.”

Slade took a deep breath. It was almost a sigh. “When I was a kid, I knew a little boy like the Monroe kid. A kid with a brain injury. A little slow, a little awkward. All the kids made fun of him. Some of the boys used to make a game of tripping him, laughing at him when he fell on his face.”

“Yeah, so what? We’ve all known bullies like that.”



“I’ll bet you were one of them,”
thought Slade. Aloud he said, “That kid was my brother. He died one day, when I wasn’t with him. Got caught in a snowstorm and couldn’t get to shelter. Nobody killed him, but I wasn’t there to help. It was my job to watch out for him. I’ve always felt responsible.”

Cherhofsky smiled a cruel smile. “We’ve got a department shrink, you know. I think you ought to make an appointment to see him.”

Do you see what’s wrong with this scene? I’m telling you that Slade and Cherhofsky are enemies. And yet here is Slade, baring his deepest secrets to the man.

In real life, nobody would do that. It would give his enemy too much ammunition.

But the author wants to tell us about the brother (we call it exposition).

That’s fine and good. This just isn’t the place to do it.

Tomorrow I’ll show you a couple better ways to do the job.

0 thoughts on “Exposition lesson, Part 1”

  1. I like pretty much all of his recent books. The one I recommend most has been The Face. I’m also very fond of Life Expectancy, a quirky and creative piece of work.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.