Location, Location, Location—Writing Place in Your Story

Over the weekend I had the good fortune to receive an ARC (advance reader copy) for Damyanti Biswas’ new crime novel, The Blue Bar. Aside from a top-notch story, a rich cast of characters, and some biting commentary, I was struck by the setting. Biswas places her story in the Indian coastal city of Mumbai.

From the crowds of diverse lingual groups, the splendor of the financial center contrasted with the squalor of those living on the edge, to the deep history, Biswas writes lovingly of Mumbai. That is not to be confused with writing a tourist pamphlet. The author is brutally honest about crime, traffic, and cultural pitfalls. 

But without ever engaging in propaganda, exploitation, or sentiment, she does render Mumbai as a salient presence in her story. We trek the streets with Inspector Anvar through the throngs of people. We hear the “tinny music” from passing vehicles. We smell the pungent spices and rich flavors from the food stalls, carried by the sweltering air. 

What’s in a name?

Sure, I’ve read stories without location names. A fellow writer who deals in erotica keeps his locales generic and WAY in the background. He claims the location is secondary and not naming it adds an air of mystery. Personally, if anything, the lack of a location contributes to a lack of plausibility.

More than a place to be…

But, but, but what about science fiction? To which I say “Frank Herbert.” Herbert has been criticized for his character names, (e.g. Duncan Idaho). However, there is no dispute that Frank excelled in naming places. 

Active during the golden age of science fiction, Herbert took the “number for planet name” bit and turned it on its ear. In Giedi Prime, we have a hard, regimented seat of power. Without ever reading of the Harkonnen family we know their world is exact and calculating. While Ix, (acknowledged as a designation based on long-forgotten Roman numerals) is cold, impersonal, and elusive. But it is Caladan where Herbert nailed the romance in “place.” The ancestral home of Herbet’s valiant Atreides, Caladan is a lush, verdant planet in name alone. Even if you know nothing of the Scottish roots, the name evokes equally lush ideas. 

Places, good or bad, center characters

In his mystery novel, Old Man Winter, Michael Cook takes us to 1974 Philadelphia and I felt the cold and smell the slightly moldy steam-heat through sparse prose. The same is true of Robert B. Parker’s use of Boston for his Spenser series. Even when Spenser is elsewhere, the salt-air streets of Boston are the detective’s center. 

Responsibility writing other places

Of course you have a responsibility to get it as close to right as possible.  However, you must get it respectful. People will forgive you for getting your landmarks wrong. They will not forgive/forget you pandering to stereotypes about their home.

Who would do such a thing?

When considering his loving representation of Boston and Los Angeles and all points west, Parker’s “humor” in commentary and depiction of New York, Dallas, et al is harsh, bordering on vicious. Ian Fleming was even harder with colonial settings that made Kipling and Conrad look progressive and enlightened by comparison.

Who does it well?

Our very own Fiona Quinn is a master of place in story. With an economy of detail, (that I study like algebra) she takes the reader from D.C. to London to Beirut in one book. More than simply settings for the “daring do,” she imbues each city with a distinct tone and reference point for the protagonists. Thomas Harris is a master of contrasts, from faux-gaslight glamor of Federal Hill in Baltimore to desolate-but-resolute-any-town Middle America. Most importantly, Harris’ loving rendering of Florence (modern and old city) is a master-class in writing place. 

Part of the appeal to most readers, (means “me”) is I’ve never been to Florence, Texas much less Florence, Tuscany. So, how do you write it, if you’ve never been to it? There are travel guides for references, (Frommer’s, Let’s Go, et al). There are people who will gladly talk your ear off about their hometowns.  

What I do know is that even if you think you’ve never been anywhere, you have been somewhere, even if it’s just your neighborhood. Somewhere, someone is interested in it as a shadow over your protagonist, the history driving your antagonist, or the heartstrings plucked to the thrill of your romantic interest’s interest. 

The point is, don’t skip the surroundings. The room where it happens is really exciting. Don’t leave the reader outside the door.

The photo at the top, "Bandra Worli Sea Link" by Yatriksheath, courtesy of Creative Commons.