Genesis: the impact of structure
Level 2 written text essays often ask you to go beyond considering the impact a piece of work has (so
considering things like theme, place, character) to thinking about why the writing has the impact it
does (so considering how the piece is put together, and how the writer’s creative decisions affect
the reader). With this in mind here’s an essay on the decisions I think were the most important in
terms of making this piece work. Because they talk specifically about the set-up and the conclusion
of the book, some of this might also prove useful if you’re asked to consider beginnings or endings
explicitly.
For a long time I knew what Genesis would be about, but not how to write it. I had the basic theme,
an examination of what it means to be human, and the assumptions we make when we choose to
value human life in the way we do. And I knew what would happen: at some stage in the future,
where robots have developed to the point where they can hold a convincing conversation (for more
on this idea, search Turing Test), a man is held prisoner, with only a machine for company. The man
resists befriending the machine, his prejudices tell him that such an action is beneath him. But the
machine refuses to be ignored. The man, Adam, represents the prejudices I expect most readers to
bring to the book, and the machine, Art, represents the voice challenging us to justify these
prejudices.
But before I could bring this story to life, I had to solve two problems. I needed to work out how to
explain the futuristic world to the reader without getting bogged down in detailed description. I
couldn’t get to the prison cell until the rules of the world were established, but I needed to get to
the prison cell early, or the story would die. In sci-fi, people refer to this as the information dump,
the technique used to let the reader know where and when we are, and what’s going on. The second
problem was to do with getting the reader emotionally involved. How could I make reading more
than an abstract experience? How could I make a book about a different world, and indeed a
machine, feel as if it is really about us?
I tried many different things, and none of them worked. And then when day, I started from scratch,
with the opening sentence:
“Anax moved down the long corridor.”
And straight away I knew I’d solved both the problems. By creating a third character, living some
time further into the future again, and sitting an oral exam on the time of Adam and Art, I could pull
a number of tricks. This decision, or discovery, lies at the heart of Genesis’ impact.
The first trick the examination technique allowed was the examiners beginning by asking:
“Can you please explain to us the political circumstances that led to The Republic’s formation?”
Although it’s clearly a little artificial, opening with that question allows Anax, and so me the writer,
to set out the basic rules of the society very quickly. It’s an efficient way of getting us to the heart of
the story, which is the conversation between Art and Adam, without sacrificing the necessary
background detail.
The second trick this decision allowed was the ability to set up a sense of curiosity and suspense. It is
clearly signalled that the character Anax has chosen to study, Adam, is important to this society’s
history, and so we immediately know that the conversations between Adam and Art are going to go
somewhere significant. It’s not just going to be talk. Something important is going to happen,
something that will change the course of history. This promise allows the reader to in some way
tolerate the long, philosophical conversations, because the promise is that they’re going to be part
of a bigger story. All will be revealed.
The third trick is that the examination provides an emotional hook for the audience. We are
introduced to Anax, a nervous student approaching the exam that will determine her future. The
circumstances are intimidating, it will be easy for her to fail. And so, our human instincts being what
they are, we take Anax’s side. We care for her and want to see her succeed. We’re not just curious
to see how this story will turn out, we’re emotionally invested in Anax’s success.
And that investment, of course, sets up the biggest trick. How to make the reader feel this story is
relevant to them? Well, by involving them in the thought experiment. So, the question Adam faces is,
could he ever form emotional attachments to something he knows is just a machine? And the
related question, in what way is he himself anything more than a machine? And all along, it turns out
the character we have cared for, and have wanted to succeed, Anax, is also, just a machine. Just as
Adam reluctantly bonds with Art, so we as readers are tricked into bonding with Anax. The shock we
feel when she is killed is, hopefully, in part the shock of realising how naturally we fell into the
pattern of caring for a machine, and how little discovering she actually is a machine affects our
empathy. This final trick makes the reader part of the story.
“She felt the cracking of her neck, and the long arm of Pericles reaching deep within her,
disconnecting her for the very last time.”