In February 2021, I published a blog post called “Unlearning ‘Show, Don’t Tell.’” In that post, I discussed how to use description to really pack a punch—how to bring it out at major moments and when to skip descriptions to move a story along. I used, as an example, Elena Ferrante’s use of exposition to summarize several conversations in the space of a single paragraph, since the specifics of those conversations weren’t nearly as important as the fact that they happened.
Today, I want to talk about a particularly masterful example of using exposition instead of description to tell a compelling story. (Note: While I will be discussing elements of A Brightness Long Ago, I will keep it as spoiler-free as possible because I recommend reading the book!)
A Brightness Long Ago – Guy Gavriel Kay
I don’t know why it took me so long to crack open a Guy Gavriel Kay book, but recently read my first one. And damn, can that man write.
A Brightness Long Ago is set in an imaginary version of Italy, several hundred years ago. The book begins with an assassination of the ruler of a city that thrusts the area into political turmoil. Kay’s writing is intricate and complex, with a large cast of characters, several time periods, multiple locations. His dialogue is fantastic for conveying the political games that the characters play, and the shifts in point of view between the characters gives an almost panoramic sense of the setting.
(Content warning: Though I will not be engaging with this part of the book in this blog post, readers should be aware that the book begins with a pretty graphic description of physical and attempted sexual assault, as well as mentions of child sexual assault.)
The golden city of Sarantium
Throughout the first hundred pages or so, various characters reference the golden city of Sarantium. This seems to be the Constantinople equivalent in the story. It’s the biggest, bestest city in the world, with tall, golden walls. It’s to the east of the Italy-esque story setting, and it’s under attack by invaders from the east.
Although the characters continue to reference the city, none of them have actually been there, and thus the city takes on a mystical quality in the way they talk about it. We don’t get any real description, because the story is told from the point of view of characters who haven’t been to the city.
The anticipation built from exposition instead of description
Because we only know about the city of Sarantium to the extent that the characters do, we, as readers, are left imagining a great, magical city of gold. We hope, as the characters do, that they’ll reach it at some point in the book, because then we’ll finally get a proper description of what it looks like. By telling rather than showing, Kay keeps us in suspense, waiting for the emotional payoff of experiencing the grandeur as the characters do.
Spoilers ahead: Crushed hopes in three short words
This is where I’m forced to give away a little bit of the plot, but it’s also the reason why I’m writing this blog post, so I hope you’ll bear with me.
After a hundred pages of building up the story with this fantastical golden city looming in the distance, Kay puts us in the point of view of a random cleric for a chapter. The cleric’s life is threatened, but he survives, and he decides to head east to defend Sarantium as an act of devotion to the god of the realm.
It’s an exciting moment for the reader: we’re finally about to hear a description of the glorious city. Kay builds our expectations, writing that the cleric “was entirely overwhelmed by the gold and glory there, it was beyond what a soul could imagine. He was rendered speechless with awe for a time by the grandeur of that city named the glory of the world for centuries.”
But this chapter isn’t about the glories of the city. It’s about someone who goes to defend the city, which is what the cleric does. And we don’t get to hear a description of the city’s beauty, or even the fight to defend it.
Kay writes, “He would die holding a spear, having aged a great deal in a short time, […] within the innermost of the great triple walls, when Sarantium fell.”
The emotional effect of removing the description
None of the characters—the cleric aside—have made it to Sarantium by the time the reader learns that the great city falls. By using only exposition to tell the reader what happens to Sarantium, Kay leaves us, as readers, with a sense of loss when we read that the city has been sacked, even though we’ve never been there, even though we haven’t even properly heard it described.
By removing the description, Kay ups the anticipation, leaving the readers with a more dramatic sense of disappointment that we don’t get to experience the glory of Sarantium in its prime. Rather than the emotional payoff of a Tolkien-worthy piece of descriptive prose—which is what would be warranted if one of our main characters finally entered the city—Kay leaves us with the brutally concise “when Sarantium fell.”
We get a bit of description of the aftermath, of a character whose “severed head was paraded on a pike, then placed with others above the once-mighty landward gates,” but the city itself remains undescribed. Kay reverts again to exposition, ending the chapter with “The fall of the city shook the foundations of the world.”
The world is shaken, and so is the reader. This moment carries so much more emotional weight through its simplicity than if Kay had spent pages describing the city and then the battle and then the fall. We, as readers, are not permitted to live through it, but instead feel only the emotional loss at the description we’ve been waiting for being pulled away from us.
Want to learn more about choosing when to use exposition instead of description?
If you’ve spent your writing life with the mantra “Show, don’t tell” running through your mind, you’re not alone. This is great advice for folks learning to write creatively, but to really advance your craft, the right approach is sometimes to set description aside.
It can be hard to tell when description is needed and when it’s preventing your story from fully shining through. If an outside set of eyes would help your story reach its full potential, Rookwood Editing is here to help! Get in touch today to make your story the best it can be.