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The "Show, don't tell" dictum surfaces with great regularity here, and never without somebody being mystified by it. Tonight, in bedtime reading, I came across an example of how a great writer does it, worth passing on as an example. It's also a great example of limited third-person POV, and damn good straightforward unpretentious narrative prose. This is from an obscure, posthumously-published, and excellent novel by Philip K. Dick, The Man Whose Teeth Were All Exactly Alike
You, dear reader, now know everything you need to know about the state of Leo and Janet's marriage. The story can proceed.
caw
From the kitchen drifted a sound that Leo Runcible knew well. A pan, on the burner, unattended, had begun to go dry. Soon the contents would boil off, and the expensive steel pan, with its copper bottom, part of a set, would be ruined. Janet had already ruined the new tea kettle; she had the habit of filling it, turning the knob to high, and then going into the bathroom and taking a long meditative bath, during which she read a book. Sometimes she drove down to town and shopped, leaving a pan of eggs hardboiling on the stove; and once she had even left the electric oven, mounted in the wall, on broil. He had gotten home to find the house filled with the reek of burning wood; the wall itself had begun to char.
He set down his newspaper. Where had his wife gone? A tinkle. She was fixing a drink.
You, dear reader, now know everything you need to know about the state of Leo and Janet's marriage. The story can proceed.
caw