Concrete versus psychological realism in fiction: Concrete realism concerns the appearances of things seeming plausible given our understanding of physics, bodily capabilities and so on. A person jumping onto a three foot high box is concretely realistic, while a person jumping on top of a ten-story building from street level is not. A person wielding a historically accurate sword in a martially plausible fashion is concretely realistic, while a person wildly swinging a sword that is twice as long as their body and as thick as their torso is not. This is the form of realism that most people are concerned with when they speak of fiction benefiting from some degree of realism. Psychological realism is more abstract and less discussed. It concerns the presence or absence of tenable psychological principles in the actions, reactions and development of the characters in the story.

 A story which lacks psychological realism may have an orphaned teenage girl go through a brief apprenticeship in combat, lasting a few weeks or months, and then proceed to have this girl, immediately thereafter, effortlessly dispatch seasoned warriors who are significantly larger than her. The notion that a lithe young girl could so readily attain mastery of combat as to render much larger, more experienced opponents completely impotent is not psychologically realistic. It is absurd, as anybody who has experienced martial training or combat knows. Likewise, having a bright but otherwise normal young man that immediately grasps and effortlessly masters any and all skillful activities that are demanded of him is not psychologically realistic. One does not master complex skills that take years of intensive practice in the space of a few days, weeks or months. Certainly not to the point where great differences in physical stature and power can be overcome with ease. This is at odds with all of human experience. Perhaps there are beings that could manage these feats, but they are surely not the human beings we are all familiar with. Making a person who is in every other respect much like you and I perform such ludicrous feats of wide-ranging, expedited mastery is jarring in its unreality.

 It may also take the form of a character reacting in a way completely inconsistent with the type of personality suggested by their previous involvement in the story. A lack of believable continuity in a character’s behaviors, thoughts and emotions is a lack of psychological realism. Examples could be enumerated endlessly. A lack of concrete realism can be irksome or refreshing, depending on the particular story. A lack of psychological realism, when it is not consciously utilized in a comedic fashion, is almost always irksome and galling to those who have the capacity to discern it. Certain basic principles of human psychology, when flagrantly violated in a fictional work, tend only to lessen the impact, staying power and relatability of the story.

 A teenage girl that becomes an unstoppable killing machine after a few weeks of swinging a sword is a vulgar and silly tale. A teenage girl that spends a decade honing her skills with a master swordsman, struggling and suffering as all budding warriors do, is far more compelling. When she dispatches brutish soldiers with deft, well-practiced movements that she honed over a decade we can see the plausibility in it, we can see that she clearly put in the requisite time and energy to attain a high degree of skill. It makes sense. It is consistent with our own experiences of life and the long road to mastery.

 As concerns good fiction, concrete realism is less important, in my mind, than psychological realism. A combination of the two can be very compelling—for example, as in A Song of Ice and Fire—but the psychological aspect is truly foundational for a well-told tale, while concrete realism is more like a tasteful spicing. Notions of what is and is not psychologically realistic will of course change as our culture develops philosophically and scientifically. A truly excellent work could even push the bounds of what is considered psychologically realistic in a compelling way, whether by refining existing notions or suggesting alternative conceptions that prove insightful and relevant.

 This, however, is much different than that unreflective laxity that allows of the two-week master or the effortless polymath. Our culture is presently rife with tales and plotlines that vitiate psychological realism repeatedly, playing on the vanity and vulgarity of the masses. I think we would greatly benefit from discussing and appreciating those works of fiction that evince a well-rounded comprehension of the human condition.