Hearing Voices

If anyone asks me what the most important part of a novel is, I almost always reply that it’s voice. Granted, for most people it’s a somewhat amorphous concept, that elements of storytelling, characterization, plot development and insight come together in some intangible way that is unique to the writer. But when it’s there, clear and strong, it’s a joy to behold. And not surprisingly, books that have an abundance of voice end up published and speak to many a reader.

For me, though, it’s a little different: I actually assign particular voices to different characters, and the narrator gets one as well. It’s not just amorphous, but specific. So I suppose that every time I pick up a book, I hear a litany of different–sometimes wildly different–voices in my head, an experience which is most often pleasurable but sometimes confusing as well. I’ll explain this in greater detail after the jump.

When I read, I actually translate what’s on the page into a recognizable voice, the kind that every person possesses in real life. So not only does a narrative voice possess all the characteristics I’ve mentioned, but it also makes use of specific pitches and tones, as well as different degrees of modulation.

I don’t think this is accidental, because I spent much of my life training as a musician, first on piano, then as a singer. Aside from teaching me a great deal about discipline, composition, structure and order (much great music resolves dissonant chords; so too does crime fiction resolve chaos into order, but that’s another subject for another day) music afforded me an intimate knowledge of sound and its pecularities. I also have perfect pitch so that adds another facet, in that even slight changes in pitch and tone means I’ll perceive it as “wrong” or offensive to my ears.

I’m also sensitive to voices outside the musical realm. Although often I can block out conversations, say when I’m on the bus home from work and trying to read a chunk of the book I have in hand, certain voices intrude more consistently than others. A higher pitch, or a more abrasive tone. Particular rhythms of speech, or subject matter. I can’t predict with any degree of consistency what I’ll listen to, but these human voices then get filtered into my brain, and often emerge in surprising ways as I read.

It certainly makes reading dialogue a much more active experience; not only, when it’s a good, quick exchange, enjoy the interplay between the characters, but I enjoy the juxtaposition of different vocal features each character posesses. Having said that, there’s no real consistency in what voices I assign a particular character. Whether there’s a description given or not, I can hear a specific dialect or regional accent. Sometimes, of course, these are suggested by the speech rhythms that the author’s written in. But then I go a step further: is that voice deep, or reedy? Full-bodied or breathy? Akin to a specific person or something I’ve created solely in my brain?

The “specific person” part is of considerable interest to me, because unlike so many others, I couldn’t care less who would play character X in a movie. But I do often wonder which person’s voice would best suit. As an example, when I first read S.J. Rozan’s CHINA TRADE (written from Lydia Chin’s point of view) the voice I heard bore a suspicious resemblance to that of Ming-Na Wen (who at the time was starring on ER, a show I watched on a semi-regular basis.) I always liked Ming-Na’s voice, with well-modulated low tones and a sense of wry humor that permeated her speech patterns. To me, that voice was Lydia’s, or a lot like her.

But does Ming-Na look anything like Lydia Chin? I doubt it. She’s too old now, for one, might even be too tall. But appearance doesn’t matter to me: voice does.

Bill Smith, Rozan’s other protagonist, I’m still trying to get a handle on. I think his voice is somewhat deep, but more of a baritone than a full basso profundo. There’s a wistful quality to it which might cause his voice to rise somewhat, but mostly I perceive it as consistently quiet, mid-to-low range. And again, I have no clue what he looks like beyond whatever description Rozan has written in (although I figure he’s tall.)

There are many readers, especially having heard authors read their work at booksignings, who assign the narrative voice to the author. Sometimes I do that–Lawrence Block’s voice is hard to put out of the mind once you’ve heard him read from his books–but most of the time I create some filtered amalgam which produces either a generic voice (if it’s a very serviceable one designed to move the plot along) or something more individual. It would be jarring, then, for me to hear a UK writer read from a book of his or hers that is set in the United States. It isn’t even so much that the character dialogue would sound off; this is specifically related to narrative. Lee Child, for example, reads very well, but it’s not his voice I hear when I read a Jack Reacher novel. That voice is flatter, maybe more of a typical midwestern flavor. Somewhat harsh, even guttural. It’s not so well-modulated, perhaps because Reacher isn’t that kind of character.

So having explained my reasons and given a few examples, I’m now curious: am I the only one who is this specific about voice, to the point of analyzing features and sound elements? And what, exactly, does voice mean to you?