A question of style

Are you a maximalist or a minimalist?

As part of the MA in creative writing, we were asked to consider our style and how it impacts our writing and also our reading.

At one end of the scale you have the lush maximalism of Delia Owens ‘When the Crawdads Sing’ (Penguin, 2020) that draws you in breath by breath into the undergrowth of the swamp, such that you can almost feel the bugs crawling on your skin, verses the almost astringent minimalism of Bonnie Garmus’ ‘Lessons in Chemistry’ (Penguin Random House, 2022). The latter is as rich in description as the former but invokes (in me at least) a very different response.

The course suggests that maximalism is a lush, layered tapestry (think Grayson Perry) that uses extended sentences, elaborate metaphors and similes. The tapestry/story is embellished with trinkets and mirrors, with luminous scraps, beads and tassels. It can be difficult to find the meaning in amongst all those adornments. It requires you to pay attention to even the smallest detail. Conversely, minimalism is like the Bayeux Tapestry. No less skilled, no less complex. The beauty of the minimalist story is all in the detail; sharp, in focus and laid bare. Here, as a reader, you are forced to consider the gaps.

So where am I?

I veer towards minimalist expression as I accelerate through a book. ‘Give me the story’ I cry as I speed read to find out how it all unravels but then, often, I re-read slowly like a flâneur ; savouring the detail.

As a writer, I have to consciously add description to my pieces to give the reader a sense of place and time (because, you know, they aren’t in my head with me).

Like many fledgling writers, I guess I am a little bit of both.

A maximinalist?