I’m reading a book at the moment where the first two chapters seem to be one infodump chained after another, and yet they string me along with their colourful worldbuilding, unique character histories, and sudden bouts of compelling vulgarity.
Admittedly, I’m starting to get fatigued by having to mentally jump between so many points in time, but it’s not without payoff. The stakes feel rather high on the few key events driving the plot along so far. A house gets robbed. A guy washes his mother’s car and gets a job. And I find myself wanting to find out how these two arcs converge.
Are we wrong to turn our noses up at infodumps? Could they actually be opportunities to create art within art? Would we still refer to them by such a humble term as “infodump” if they evoked a spark of curiosity and emotion as powerful as the story itself?
Many questions, no answers, but perhaps something to try at one’s next freewriting session over tea ☕️