[...] For instance: If we are (a) fully to understand Helen’s surprise at the arrival of her relatives (if the event is in this primary sense to have meaning; never mind the larger philosophical implications), and if we’re (b) to be convinced that her relatives really did come in such astounding numbers, the writer must somehow find a way to show us clearly (1) what these strange people the Achaians are like that they’d react in such a way, (2) what the Trojans are like, and especially Paris, that he should make such a blunder, and (3) why Helen did not anticipate her kinsmen’s response. All this, if the story is to be vivid and suspenseful, the writer must find a way to show us dramatically, by enacted scenes, not authorial essays or lengthy set speeches by the characters. If the story is to be efficient and elegant (in the sense that mathematical proofs are elegant), the writer must introduce no more background events or major characters than strictly necessary (and, obviously, no less), and must introduce these materials in the smallest possible number of scenes, each scene rhythmically proportionate to those surrounding, so that the pace is regular or, if appropriate, in regular acceleration. In other words, if it is possible to show in a single scene—clearly and powerfully—both what the Achaians are like and why Helen will not anticipate their response to her flight with Paris, the efficient and elegant writer does not use two or three scenes. [...]