Mystery vs. Irony

How writers can do two things at once

Welcome back to Glass Half Full, and thanks for reading! We’re taking a break from flat-earthism and conspiracy theories to think about a particular feature of narrative, which involves how much the reader knows, and when. I think this is one of the things that can give a story its narrative drive. If you find this post worthwhile, I hope you’ll:

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I was reading The New Kid, the excellent first instalment in

S.E. Reid

’s as yet untitled short serial, when I was reminded of a famous saying about Jane Austen’s Emma: it works as both mystery and dramatic irony.¹

Let’s see how this works in Sally’s story. In it, Jake is a new student on Ferris Island, and he meets characters from Sally’s previous stories set in this world. Here’s the passage that caught my attention:

“It’s okay to be weird, you know,” she said, softly. Ethan and Bailey both nodded. 

Jake glanced up. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just…all three of us know what it’s like not to fit in, to feel like no one else gets it, and it’s okay. You don’t have to be embarrassed. We all feel that way, too.”

Jake shook his head. “Believe me…no one gets it. For real.”

Ivy arched an eyebrow and exchanged knowing glances with Ethan and Bailey. “You’d be surprised,” she said, and took a casual sip of her orange juice. 

Jake didn’t get the joke. He waited.

Like Jake, I’m a newcomer to this place, so I’m just as confused as he is by the intentions of the other three. I don’t get the joke either. But that creates a mystery that keeps pulling me forward in the story: what’s up with these three? Clearly, they have a shared past that lets them guess something about Jake. (Jake is also keeping a secret at this point, which no reader knows about yet.)

As I read the comments, it became clear that long-time readers of Sally’s Ferris Island stories are familiar with Ethan, Bailey, and Ivy, and were especially glad that Ivy is back. They’ll know all about whatever these three are keeping in the background at this point. They’re in on the joke.

For these readers, the mystery surrounding Jake will pull them through the story. But so too will the dramatic irony of knowing more about Jake’s new friends than he does. I imagine they can’t wait for the scene when this is all revealed to him. Like the proverbial time bomb beneath the table, this irony raises the tension — but with less dire consequences.

Mystery vs. irony in Ada’s Children

The first chapters of my post-apocalyptic sci-fi novel can also function like a mystery. Sila and Jun have reason to suspect that their goddess, Ada, isn’t exactly what she seems. They set out to discover the truth, getting clues from an old hermit and going in search of the Ancient Ones, who might have had something to do with the goddess. If the reader somehow remains unaware of anything else about Ada, this part will read like a mystery. What the reader knows will be closely aligned with what the characters know as they try to find out who or what Ada is, solving the mystery only at the end.

But of course you can’t market a novel about an AI takeover without mentioning the AI — and it’s actually pretty clear from the cover. I knew most readers would figure out the goddess Ada’s identity even before opening the book. In the Prologue, I gave a few hints to the technological elements of the world these characters inhabit, which would otherwise seem like a typical hunter-gatherer society. (Lacking those hints, the reader might think this was another Clan of the Cave Bear. If they’d come for an AI novel, they’d think, “Where’s the AI?”)

So I realized that Ada’s identity wouldn’t be a mystery to most (or all) readers. I had to rely on dramatic irony to keep pulling the reader along. Instead of “Who’s Ada?”, the reader’s questions or motivations would be something like, “I hope they don’t do anything to really piss Ada off!” or “I can’t wait until they find out who Ada really is.” Is that enough narrative drive to pull readers through this portion of the story? Only readers can be the judge of that.

Mystery in Ship of Fools

There’s definitely a mysterious element to my new novel. Who or what is behind the bizarre coincidences that keep happening to Elizabeth Dare? Who are these strange characters that periodically threaten her and seem to have a lot of control over things they shouldn’t? Unlike with Ada’s Children, I don’t think many readers will catch on to who or what they are until close to the end, and maybe not even then. So the mystery surrounding them is one of the things that will — I hope! — pull readers through the story.

And here’s another reason I think these mysterious characters will remain a mystery to the reader. It’s either a spoiler or maybe something an author shouldn’t admit: I’m not even sure who or what these characters are! There are simply a lot of things about this novel that are still a mystery to me. If someone asks, “Hey, Larry, how did you come up with this character or that event?”, my honest answer would have to be: I have no effin’ clue!

So Ship of Fools has more mystery than irony. There is some irony along the way, but mentioning it would be an even bigger spoiler.

Join the discussion

What other stories or novels have you read that work through both mystery and dramatic irony? Do you see this feature in your own work? Let me know in the comments!

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Come back on Friday for another chapter of Ship of Fools, in which Ben Himmelstein’s moon-landing hoax theory goes from the ridiculous to the absurd. Then on Sunday, we’ll follow flat-earther Clive Cuddleshanks as he hawks his astroanamorphoscope.

1. Emma spoilers incoming! On a first read, Jane Fairfax’s actions are enigmatic except to the most insightful readers (and certainly to me!). On a second read, knowing that Jane and Frank Churchill are secretly in love, the reader experiences all of those formerly enigmatic passages as dramatic irony: the reader is in on the secret while Emma remains unaware.