I had to say that three times, for emphasis. I feel smooth dialogue is extremely important in a good book. Unfortunately, so very few authors really do it well. This is, no doubt, because dialogue is one of the most difficult things to get right when writing prose. Well, the best way to illustrate is by example, so without further ado:
Bad Dialogue (From Robin Cook‘s Acceptable Risk)
“Relax, cousin,” Stanton said after the hostess had departed. He reached across the table and poured Kim a glass of white wine. “As usual you’re wound up like a banjo wire.”
“Telling me to relax only makes me more nervous,” Kim said. She took a drink of the wine.
“You are a strange one,” Stanton said playfully. “I can never understand why you’re so damn self-conscious, especially sitting here with family in a room full of people you’ll never see again. Let your hair down.”
“I have no control over what my hair chooses to do,” Kim joked. “As for your inability to understand my unease, it’s entirely understandable. You’re so totally self-assured that it’s impossible for you to imagine what it’s like not to be so.”
“Why not give me a chance to understand?” Stanton said. “I challenge you to explain why you are feeling uncomfortable right at this moment. My God, woman, your hand is shaking.”
Kim put down her glass and put her hands in her lap. “I’m nervous mainly because I feel thrown together,” she said. “After your call this evening, I barely had time to take a shower, much less find something to wear. And, if you must know, my bangs are driving me crazy.” Kim blindly tried to adjust the hair over her forehead.
“I think your dress is smashing,” Candice said.
“No doubt about it,” Stanton said. “Kimberly, you look gorgeous.”
Kim laughed. “I’m smart enough to know that provoked compliments are invariably false.”
“Balderdash,” Stanton said. “The irony of this discussion is that you are a sexy, beautiful woman even though you always act as if you haven’t a clue, which, I suppose, is somewhat endearing. How old are you now, twenty-six?”
“Twenty-seven,” Kim said. She tried more of her wine.
“Twenty-seven and improving with each year,” Stanton said. He smiled impishly. “You’ve got cheekbones other women would die for, skin like a baby’s bottom, and a ballerina’s figure, not to mention those emerald eyes that could mesmerize a Greek statue.”
I could go on, but it just gets worse from here. This dialogue sucks. It’s awful. Terrible. Hideous! There are so many things wrong with this passage that I scarcely know where to start. But I shall, heroically, try:
- Never say “joked”. If you have to tell your reader that your character is joking, you’ve missed the point.
- “As for your inability to understand my unease…” Who talks like that?
- “Balderdash”? Who talks like that?
- Men do not smile impishly. They do not, moreover, notice cheekbones (unless they are in the business of scouting models), let alone compliment women on them. They do not say “baby’s bottom”. They do not say “emerald” when they could say “green”. And why is the statue Greek? How does one mesmerize a statue? Are Greek statues more difficult to mesmerize than, say, Roman statues?
This is why I will never read a Robin Cook book if I can help it. All his books are like this. And he’d been writing for, what? Twenty years by this point? Yeesh.
Mediocre Dialogue (From Fiona McIntosh‘s Myrren’s Gift)
“But, Wyl, a word of caution. It would not do to whip the backside of the young Prince. You may find it politic to play second fiddle to a king-in-waiting.”
Wyl’s gaze rested firmly on Gueryn. “I understand.”
“Good. Your sensibility in this will protect you.”
“Do I need protection?” Wyl asked, surprised.
Gueryn wished he could take back the warning. It was ill-timed but he was always honest with his charge. “I don’t know yet. You are being brought to Pearlis to learn your craft and follow in your father’s proud footsteps. You must consider the city your home now. You understand this? Argorn must rest in your mind as a country property you may return to from time to time. Home is Stoneheart now.” He watched the sorrow at those last words take a firm hold on the boy. It was said now. Had to be aired, best out in the open and accepted. “The other reason the King is keen to have you in the capital is, I suspect, because he is concerned at his son’s wayward manner.”
“Oh?”
“Celimus needs someone to temper his ways. The King has been told you possess a similar countenance to your father and I gather this pleases him greatly. He has hopes that you and his son will become as close friends as he and Fergys were.” Gueryn waited for Wyl to comment but the boy said nothing. “Anyway, friendship can never be forced, so let’s just keep an open mind and see how it all pans out. I shall be with you the whole time.”
Wyl bit his lip and nodded. “Let’s not tarry then, Gueryn.”
This is certainly not the worst dialogue I’ve ever read, but it’s really not very good.
- First, it’s too flowery and stilted. Just plain awkward: “You may find it politic to play second fiddle to a king-in-waiting.” Politic? Second fiddle? That just doesn’t seem like something a soldier would say, let alone to a boy.
- Too much exposition in the dialogue: “The other reason the King is keen to have you in the capital is, I suspect, because he is concerned at his son’s wayward manner.”
- Unnatural speech patterns: “Anyway, friendship can never be forced, so let’s just keep an open mind and see how it all pans out. I shall be with you the whole time.” “Let’s just keep an open mind” and “see how it all pans out” are modern expressions, and just don’t fit well with “I shall be with you the whole time.”
Good Dialogue (From George R.R. Martin‘s A Game of Thrones)
“There is no shame in being a steward,” Sam said.
“Do you think I want to spend the rest of my life washing an old man’s smallclothes?”
“The old man is Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch,” Sam reminded him. “You’ll be with him day and night. Yes, you’ll pour his wine and see that his bed linen is fresh, but you’ll also take his letters, attend him at meetings, squire for him in battle. You’ll be as close to him as his shadow. You’ll know everything, be a part of everything…and the Lord Steward said Mormont asked for you himself!
“When I was little, my father used to insist that I attend him in the audience chamber whenever he held court. When he rode to Highgarden to bend his knee to Lord Tyrell, he made me come. Later, though, he started to take Dickon and leave me at home, and he no longer cared whether I sat through his audiences, so long as Dickon was there. He wanted his heir at his side, don’t you see? To watch and listen and learn from all he did. I’ll wager that’s why Lord Mormont requested you, Jon. What else could it be? He wants to groom you for command!”
Jon was taken aback. It was true, Lord Eddard had often made Robb part of his councils back at Winterfell. Could Sam be right? Even a bastard could rise high in the Night’s Watch, they said. “I never asked for this,” he said stubbornly.
“None of us are here for asking,” Sam reminded him.
And suddenly Jon Snow was ashamed.
Dialogue in period pieces and medieval fantasies is very difficult to get right. Often it ends up being too flowery and formal, bordering on incomprehensible (see above). But Martin hits just the right balance of the formal speech patterns of medieval times and realistic dialogue.
Fabulous Dialogue 01 (From Lee Child‘s The Enemy)
“Reacher here,” I said.
There was a long pause.
“I thought you were in Panama,” he said.
“I got orders,” I said.
“From Panama to Fort Bird? Why?”
“Not my place to ask.”
“When was this?”
“Two days ago.”
“That’s a kick in the teeth,” he said. “Isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
“Panama was probably more exciting.”
“It was OK,” I said.
“And they got you working duty officer on New Year’s Eve already?”
“I volunteered,” I said. “I’m trying to make people like me.”
“That’s a hopeless task,” he said.
“A sergeant just brought me coffee.”
He paused. “Someone just call you about a dead soldier in a motel?”
“Eight minutes ago,” I said. “I shuffled it off to headquarters.”
“And they shuffled it off to someone else and I just got pulled out of a party to hear all about it.”
“Why?”
“Because the dead soldier in question is a two-star general.”
This is pretty close to perfect. It’s spare and effective, natural and smart; it advances the plot without sounding too much like exposition, and doesn’t add in unnecessary detail (often the death of many a written verbal exchange).
Fabulous Dialogue 02 (From Jennifer Crusie‘s Faking It):
Then, since it was Friday, he dutifully punched in his sister’s number, and his niece answered on the second ring. “Hey, Dill, it’s me,” Davy said.
“Excellent,” Dillie said. “I need some advice from a guy.”
“Right,” Davy said. “I reserve the right to bail from this conversation at any time.”
“Don’t be wimpy,” Dillie said. “Jamie Barclay quit the softball team. She says boys don’t like girls who compete with them. Mom says that’s garbage. But she would say that. I mean, you know Mom. But Jamie’s mom says it’s true. And she’s been married to a lot of guys. So I need to know. Is it true? And don’t give me any of that after-school-special stuff.”
“Well, yes and no,” Davy said, following with some difficulty. “Some guys don’t. That’s not the point. You like softball, right?”
“Yes,” Dillie said. “But–”
“Well, what kind of loser guy would make you give up something you liked so he could feel better?”
“Yeah, I know,” Dillie said. “That sounds good, but–”
“Got your eye on a seventh-grader, too?”
“No,” Dillie said. “He’s in my grade. His name’s Jordan.”
“And he doesn’t want you to play?”
“I didn’t ask. He doesn’t know I like him. He doesn’t know I exist.”
“Okay, I’ve got it.” Davy thought for a moment. “I think you have to look at the big picture here, Dill. This guy, whoever he is, is a practice swing.”
“Huh?”
“Very few people mate for life with the people they fall for at twelve. Doesn’t mean it isn’t real, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter, but basically, we’re talking a practice swing in the big game of love.”
Dillie groaned.
“So he’s temporary. But softball is permanent. You can play softball forever if you want to. Softball is not a practice swing. The things you love are never practice swings.”
“Okay, yeah, that’s good,” Dillie said, sounding overly patient, “but I like Jordan. You know?”
“Right.” Davy looked at the ceiling and sighed. “I’m going to explain something to you, so listen carefully. And don’t ever tell your mom I told you. Or God knows, your dad. They’d never let me near you again.”
“Okay,” Dillie said. “Cool.”
Boom! This has it all: humor, flow, a natural feel, everything. It’s a good example of dialogue between people who know each other well…so many times you get dialogue that goes something like this: “Your uncle, Bob, said the other day that his roof is leaking, and that he’d get his son, Jim, to fix it for him.” This example, like the one before, gives valuable insight into the characters without overt exposition or any awkwardness whatsoever.
In conclusion, I don’t really need to add anything; the examples more or less speak for themselves. The better the dialogue, the more interested you are in reading the book, the more you get into the book, the more you enjoy the book. That’s it, really.