Backstory

I have been thinking about backstory and its choreography—the rise and fall of what is happening right this instant in a story, set against what is remembered, what comes before. Transitions between the present and the past and back to present again become as important as plot. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that perfectly executed transitions are plot.

I've been thinking about those authors who are masters at this sort of thing—Michael Ondaatje, of course. Wallace Stegner. Alice McDermott. Jayne Anne Phillips. Alyson Hagy. Ann Patchett, in her newest novel, RUN, does an exquisite job (I think) of slipping between the now and then of her characters' lives. So does Howard Norman in THE BIRD ARTIST, Ron Carlson in FIVE SKIES, Debra Dean in THE MADONNAS OF LENINGRAD, and Sarah Waters in THE NIGHT WATCH.

Sometimes an author will slide forwards and back, take nearly imperceptible steps through time. How does that happen? And sometimes the transition is declarative, abrupt. Why can that work so well? When does it fail?

I'm interested in gaining your perspective.