A few days ago, as I was rambling around the subject of writing the Soterion Mission and trying to get straight in my head exactly what I was doing, I said I'd tackle sex and violence in a novel for young adults. Then I avoided doing so because other things seemed to have priority. But now, alas! I can't stand aside any longer.Violence first.
Like every writer I know - and nearly all readers - I'm opposed in principle to censorship. That said, I'm not sure what my reaction would be to a vitriolic piece that openly advocated the torture and murder of, say, all people with red hair or brown skin. In a perfect world, where everyone was balanced, sensitive and well-educated, I suppose I'd allow the piece be published because all readers would inevitably scorn such idiotic nonsense. But ours is not such a world ...
Which means that there must be some limits on what we can and cannot say. Just in case. But don't ask me to be the judge.
Regarding violence in novels that are designed to appeal to young adults, I think the position is simpler. In my experience, readers self-censor: they read only what they want to read. If the want unremitting blood and guts, then there are plenty of places where they can find it, in books, on the web, in movies and so forth. Moreover, they know full well that horrible human beings - and sometimes not such horrible ones - have been doing foul and cruel things to other members of their species since homo sapiens sapiens emerged umpteen thousand years ago. Read history. Watch the news.
So the amount of violence in the Soterion Mission is determined not by some absolute moral code but by what, in my judgement, the readers want and what sits easily with the tone of the novel. Interestingly, from the feedback I've received, the older the reader, the less overt violence they appear to want - the loudest whingers are adults who seem to want to keep dear, sweet innocent children in some sort of wholly unrealistic and ultimately damaging candyfloss cocoon.
The Zeds are what happens to people in a society without laws, culture and education. We all have something of the Zed in us; they are a warning, if you like. Of course they do despicable things. Nevertheless, I hope the reader notices that they are so foul as to be ridiculous in their nastiness, just as angels are ridiculous in their goodness. Timur is, therefore, to some extent a comic character - the only possible reactions to his insane cruelty are total despair or laughter. I've opted for the latter.
Moreover, again as a close reader will notice, violence in the book is never actually described in detail. Its effects are there, as is what's going on around it. But the deeds themselves are in the reader's imagination, which is - as with sex scenes - where they are best left. The scream from behind a closed door is more terrifying than the torture scene within.
Where does this leave us? There cannot be too much or too little violence in a book. Too much is simply a medical or butcher's handbook, too little a Disneyfied twee-mess. What comes between is up to the author. If he gets it wrong, the book will fail on several counts, including artistically and commercially (both linked, we hope). Those, in the end, are the relevant yardsticks: art and commerce, not some external morality.
