One of the challenges of writing a series of novels about the same character is managing reader expectations around character growth. At least it's a challenge for me. For writers of some series—some bestselling lone-hero crime fiction, for example, or techno-thrillers—this is no problem at all: the protagonist simply never changes, at least in any meaningful sense. Readers of these series expect the main character to approach people and problem-solving in, say, Book Six exactly as they approached them in Book One; they prefer knowing what they'll get for their money.
Before I go any further I want to be clear: I am not disparaging these books. I read and enjoy them myself. There's a certain comfort in knowing what to expect, of seeing the protagonist behave exactly as themselves. At worst they're reliable and at best they can be enormously pleasurable to read. I just don't find them interesting to write.
So when I write a series—the Aud books, or the Hild sequence—some readers will, inevitably, be disappointed. Readers who loved The Blue Place might not be able to stand Stay; some who loved Stay might find Always puzzling. Some, of course, love them all—love seeing Aud grow and change and alter her behaviour, handle a situation in radical new ways. And Aud does change, quite a bit, from book to book. Which means the concerns of the narrative change, and the prose, style, pace, theme and setting change to match. While some readers delight in this, others find it bewildering if not downright disturbing. If you're one of the latter then I may not be the writer for you—this is just how I work. This has been true since the beginning: my first two novels, Ammonite and Slow River, are both SF but wildly different, not just in setting—far future on a distant planet vs day-after-tomorrow right here—but in scope and tone. Not coincidentally, many people who loved Ammonite did not get on with Slow River (though, interestingly, most people who loved Slow River also really liked Ammonite—but that's an essay for another time).
This is doubly true when the first book in any series—The Blue Place, or Hild—is unlike anything that's gone before.1 If a reader falls head over heels with this New Thing then the odds are that they'll want to repeat that experience with the next book in the series. Only, well, when it comes to my books that just isn't going to happen.2 And it's one of the reasons I'm still debating whether to write more about Peretur and Nimuë.
So when it comes to Menewood I'm not surprised that some readers and critics like the book but nonetheless are slightly dissatisfied but can't quite pinpoint why, other than a vague feeling that it's just not Hild. Well, no. It's not. It can't be. In Menewood, Hild the woman has different lessons to learn from that of child Hild; different crises to handle; different people to relate to; different skills to draw upon. And the world at the beginning of Menewood is very different place from that at the beginning of Hild—partly because of the actions of Hild herself in that first book. But I understand some readers' restlessness: they wanted to re-experience that freshness and newness and difference that's inherent in not only discovering a whole world/era that's new to them but in inhabiting the body and mind of a child exploring her own wonders of life, when everything she feels is new, everything she does and everyone she meets is for the first time.
Menewood, of course, has other delights that Hild doesn't—and so I'm delighted but not too surprised that other readers and critics not only call out the differences between the two novels but find them thrilling.3
So if you loved Hild will you love Menewood? I think you might—in fact I'm betting most of you will. I also wouldn't be surprised if, in future years, readers who found, read and loved Menewood before encountering Hild are shocked at how different the first book is.
No two readers are alike: the book they read and the way they respond will be different. How they approach reading a series will be different. For example, when I encounter a new book in a series I've been enjoying I read it immediately, and only then go back and reread the previous books.
So now I'm curious about Hild readers. How did approach Menewood? Did you reread Hild first? (Why?) Did you read Menewood and only then go back and reread Hild? (Why?) Did you reassess either books as a result? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Did you prefer one to the other? Did different modes of consumption—paper, digital, audio—between now and then, or between books, influence your response?
Will this change what and how I write? It depends what I learn. Mainly, I'm just curious. I'd love to hear anything you care to share even (especially?) if you think I might not like it.
1 A phrase I heard several times in commentary on The Blue Place, and Aud in particular, was sui generis.
2 It's not just readers who sometimes get bent out of shape when I don't turn in an exact copy of what's gone before—agents don't always like it, and some editors hate it. This is partly why my career has looked the way it has. Right now I have an editor and agent who like the differences. Long may that remain so...
3 Not surprised but a bit relieved, I admit: you just never know.
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