How landscape and setting can function like a character in suspense fiction

by Holly Craig

Have you ever teetered on the crumbling edge of a high cliff while peering over? I bet not. What about ventured down a network of underwater caves, free climbed up a mountainous ledge, camped alone in isolated wilderness? Many of us refuse to step outside our predictable routines and the warm security of home, that sweet spot where all external dangers are banished. This is the attraction of suspense fiction—a powerful, persuasive, totally irresistible genre, especially when paired with a compelling landscape and/or setting that functions as a character. Readers of this genre prefer experiencing icy, wild, unforgiving landscapes vicariously through fictional characters, while in the snug comfort of home. They can take time out when things get too much, slap the book shut, sip their herbal teas and roll their blankets up to their chins, returning to the benign familiarity of their bedrooms.

            But astute suspense authors thrive on manipulating their readers emotions by creating vivid, sensory, mood and atmosphere through 3D landscape and setting. How effective this is done depends on skill and attention to detail. The more emotional impact the reader experiences, the more invested they become in their immersive experience. After all, a suspense reader wants to be entertained with the promise of emotional roller-coaster fulfillment. This is a contractual agreement set out between author and audience, and it begins with the cover.

            Landscape and setting and the feel of it being personified, begins when a particular book cover catches the eye. The cover is a window, a glimpse, a promise of things to come, a teaser trailer all on its own. The reader lets their imagination fill in the gaps, animating their newly found still-life into a thrilling new adventure of the mind.

            The suspense reader’s mind is a powerful tool that can conjure worlds from words, convert the written page into a dynamic ecosystem of believability. This is what suspense readers yearn for, perhaps even live for. When done right, authors become magicians and readers are held spellbound, compelled to believe the unbelievable to such an extent that it becomes their world. One that should never end but always does. At least for a short time. The reader also possesses a return ticket anytime they desire to relive the thrilling experience.

            My latest survival suspense, Find Me, is set in the Tasmanian wilderness dominated by the fictitious Mount Mercy, the epicenter of the story where the main protagonists are relentlessly drawn, despite the warnings from locals. Mount Mercy takes men. This is what the townsfolk and characters believe to be true. Mountains are inherently dangerous settings, and tend to rule their surrounding landscapes, more so if associated with fatalities and mysterious legends stoked by local inhabitants. Mount Mercy is treated as an adversary from the get-go, the main antagonist all other characters must struggle against for survival. It’s not easy living in the shadow of such a phenomenal presence. Miss Mercy truly rules the landscape of this book, becoming a character in her own right. Notice what I did there? Gave an inert landscape, such as a Mountain, an honorific, Miss, and a pronoun, her own right. Why does this make the reader feel uneasy, as though this mountain is now a living, breathing entity?

            What brings a landscape or setting alive is infusing human traits and characteristics into an inherently motionless/unliving landscape or setting. This forest keeps her secrets; this house won’t let you leave; this desert is choking me. Descriptive language and personification activate emotions and thereby, a sense of the supernatural manifests itself within ordinary rocks and trees, streams and fields, settling upon buildings and ruins alike, possessing them with living qualities, transforming the everyday into the unfamiliar. 

It would be easy to presume the very elements of nature are in collusion with humans, hell-bent on their demise. Hardly. Nature is neither friend nor foe; it is, in fact, awesome in its indifference. If suspense authors attribute human behavior and motivation to inhuman forces, we have a powerful character (antagonist) too good not to utilise.

The unfamiliar is what automatically creates tension and suspense in reading about particular landscapes or setting. In fact, anything out of the ordinary can trigger alarm from our often-dormant survival instincts, even if perceived as a vague threat. Who hasn’t crossed a quiet street to avoid an unsavory character, especially at night? Who hasn’t peered behind them while hiking, fearing the shadows? Who wants to perish wandering in the wilderness from a lack of water, from exposure, from starvation? No one. However, survival readers desire to step inside the pages of the book, peer into the what ifs and what now’s and experience any stimulating, unfamiliar landscape safely from afar.

Reading about wild landscapes tends to provoke and taunt our inadequacies, showcasing our inherent weaknesses. We aren’t the most robust of species. We’re poorly equipped to handle hidden dangers and unless prepared, when plucked out of our regular environment and plonked into danger, I’m guessing Mount Mercy from Find Me, underwater caves, steaming deserts, high seas are enough to terrify and deter most. This is why survival stories are such an attractive, addictive genre to devour. How did the protagonist escape the beast of the mountain? How did they find their way out the labyrinth of pines? How did they trek without food and what exactly did they eat? We fear what we don’t know, which is why we’re engrossed with studying characters who must grapple with that unknown.

When executed effectively, using distinctive literary techniques, the landscape and setting can provide much more than a scenic backdrop to a suspense thriller, it can serve as a secondary character that seeps into the suspense readers subconscious until they are there up that misty cold mountain, and they are at one with her.


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