This is the last instalment of How Not To Write A Novel ; a review (of sorts) of a book that shall remain Nameless, broken down into all the things it did that you Really Shouldn't Do. Parts one through six are listed here.

One of the first things intrepid writers discover when penning dialogue is that when you dutifully copy down what people actually say, it's absolute rubbish. Dull, repetitive, banal and pointless, people spout utter gibberish that only makes sense because you're actually there, and you're filling in the blanks with what you know the conversation is about. Real people don't talk like they do in books. 

And that's a good thing, because the point of fiction is entertainment, not verisimilitude. Your dialogue should be pared down to the bare essentials necessary to get the point across; it should not be filled with the ramblings and auto-loops of everyday chatter.

But worse still, is when a book flouts this rule in combination with Rule #2: Info dumps, and uses dialogue as a way to dump information on the reader. Then we have something truly hideous. Like Nameless.

It's like the "As you know, Jim," but worse, because this is an info dump that goes on for pages, with characters discussing things they quite possibly already know, or (just as bad) one ignorant character contributing nothing but meaningless noise-questions (Why? Really? How? I don't understand) to the questions as an excuse for the knowledgeable character to keep spouting. Bonus points if the ignorant character then ends the conversation with "So, wait, let me get this straight," and proceeds to reiterate the main points of the info dump.

This happens a lot in game narratives, where it's rendered doubly painful by the terrible voice acting that accompanies it. There, it's near-excusable as an expedient way to get information across to a disinterested and distracted player in a quasi-interactive way. But a book? A book has no excuse.

If you find yourself delivering platefuls of information via dialogue, take a hard look at what you're telling the reader. Is this information strictly necessary? Do they need to know it, or is it just adding fancy curtains to your worldbuilding windows? If they do need to know it, does it all have to be delivered right now? Can some of it be put earlier, or perhaps hinted at so the reader can make their own conclusions? How much of it can you show, or hint, or foreshadow? A reader will be far more satisfied if they discover the rules of the world for themselves, rather than have John tell Jimmy What It's All About.