Very interesting post. As someone who writes with a definite style and who enjoys reading high-style authors such as Tanith Lee, this is a breath of fresh air.

I tend to dislike the "no-prose" mode since I believe that style is an integral part of the reading experience. Style determines the mood, the flavor and the elegance of the story, at least to me. Without style, the story itself may be wonderful but it would lack the flair that would make it perfect.

It's like a hearty soup without the right amount of seasoning -- still healthy and filling, but without the same amount of pleasure going down.

Yeah, the No-Style stuff is solidly in the tradition of Northern European peasant cuisine — meat, cheese, boiled cabbage, root vegetables, salt. Taken to an extreme, it leads to mac-and-cheese, and potatoes au gratin, and eventually to fast food. . .  and then you get Tom Clancy. Or, if you want to live on the edge and try something exotic — Taco Bell, say — Michael Crichton.

(I’d better stop before I try to figure out what sort of food LaHaye and Jenkins are.)

And there's also something to be said for good ingredients simply prepared.

Absolutely.

I've always considered Octavia Butler to be a practitioner of transparent prose, but I don't feel that her work suffers from the pitfalls described. Interesting argument, though.

SF is about challenging assumptions?

No, but I think many people suppose it to be.

One could argue that all literature is about challenging assumptions, but most of us show up merely to be entertained.

LaHaye and Jenkins are the cheesy poofs.

I actually can't get my head around the concept of "no style." I mean, it's kind of like trying to picture someone not standing up: you can't do it. You can picture someone sitting down or lying down or leaning over, but not standing? Doesn't make sense to me.

I think that’s part of the point — that what a lot of people seem to think is an absence of style is in fact just a particular style.

You're right, of course...there's no such thing as "no style". It's like the concept of not having an accent. We all have accents. I didn't realize until I taught English alongside Brits that I was pronouncing "butter" with a soft "d"..."budder", rather than "but-uh", and I realized how, even though I've spent most of my life trying to expunge a Southern accent from my speaking that I've just ended up sounding Midwestern, and that despite my best efforts I still have an accent.

But I'd question the assertion that you can't challenge assumptions, no matter which style you choose. Style isn't everything, after all.

But if, as Maureen points out, one of the components of a certain style is that it leaves a lot of detail out, and expects the reader to fill it in by using a set of shared assumptions, it’s hard to challenge those invisible assumptions.

This is fascinating to me, especially since I hadn't realized that the term "transparent prose" had such a lengthy definition attached to it. For me, transparent prose has always simply meant that the writing style is invisible and doesn't get in the way of the plot, characters, etc. In my definition of transparent prose, I'm able get lost in the world of the story itself, without having to pay attention to how it was written.

Some writing I find confusing, even on multiple reads, because the language is so stylized or jumbled. This is effective in that it can help set a mood -- fast-paced writing with lots of short-cuts (such as making references to established conventions or well-known trends, instead of using lots of detail) can make the action seem hectic -- but it's hardly what I'd call transparent prose. I'm paying too much attention to the style, trying to suss out what the author is referencing, what s/he is trying to do, to be able to simply get lost in the story.

But if, as Maureen points out, one of the components of a certain style is that it leaves a lot of detail out, and expects the reader to fill it in by using a set of shared assumptions, it’s hard to challenge those invisible assumptions.

I guess that would be true if style were all there was to a particular story.

I can imagine, for example, a story which challenges early 21st century, middle-class American notions of ideal family structure, or cultural norms, or whatever...and does so in "transparent" prose. In fact, such a style could in fact be used in an ironic way to heighten the effect. Couldn't it?

Of course it's possible to use a style which is in direct counterpoint to the story itself.

I think the point is that many writers are not aware of the assumptions that they bring to their writing, and using a style which is dependent upon shared assumptions without acknowledging their basis makes it more difficult to challenge these assumptions.