Great Stories, Part 3: The Common Quality

Today’s post will be long, as a warning. There will also be about a million “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Angel” spoilers.

It happens that I’m a huge fan of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." I never watched the show while it was on, having been a toddler when it began, but Netflix is beautiful. I actually pulled an all-nighter my first run through. I did the same after ordering the Season 8 comics. And now I'm saving for Season 9...

But I digress.

My point isn’t that I love the show, but why. To me, it’s the perfect combination of hilarious and scary. The dialogue sparkles, the characters are great (except maybe Riley – so beneath Buffy), and though the show changes through the seasons, I never cease to love it.

Today I want to talk about the character of Faith.

I don’t want to go into too much detail, but what you have to understand is this:

Buffy and Faith slay vampires. They’re the only Slayers. Buffy’s nice, honest, has good friends, etc. Faith is damaged, wild, flirtatious – Buffy’s foil. The two are friends for a time, until a chain of reactions is set off.

This begins when Faith accidentally kills a man. Instead of dealing with the event (and she almost does), she denies it, then turns to killing for hire. She takes the same joy out of it as from Slaying. Buffy & Co. try to reach her, but no one seems able to.

That's until Angel intervenes, anyway. He's Buffy's undead boyfriend, who's been stuck with a soul since getting cursed by Gypsies. Now he can't stop reliving old murders, and that's why Faith is attracted to him: He's the only one who could possibly relate.

But we couldn't have a happy ending here, could we?

The Watchers’ Council breaks in to arrest Faith. (They’re a group of old British guys that oversee Slayers and hire goons to beat/lock up rogue ones.) Faith escapes, naturally, but more events and she ends up in a coma for half a season. When she wakes up, it’s to wreak yet more havoc, ruining Buffy’s life in the process. Then she heads to LA, and the show Angel (a BtVS spinoff.)

Angel is, pretty obviously, Angel’s show. Faith’s been hired to kill him, but he still wants to save her from herself. A few events occur, and Faith seems pretty bent on carrying out her job. She even kidnaps Wesley, her former Watcher and Angel’s friend. She is torturing him in an apartment when Angel breaks in.

There’s a fight sequence. Lots of broken glass. Angel and Faith fall out of a window into the street below, a distance of maybe four stories.

The fight continues, but the viewer can tell Angel’s letting up. It begins raining, then pouring, and Faith is screaming. “You don’t know what evil is!” she says. “I’m bad! Fight back!” Angel responds quietly – by now his arms are still. “Nice try, Faith. I know what you want. And I’m not gonna do it – I’m not gonna make it easy for you.”

The viewer doesn’t know what he means; just that Faith is suddenly collapsing. She’s still fighting, but her screams are more like sobbing as Angel draws nearer to her. “I’m evil! I’m bad!” she continues. “Do you hear me?!” Angel ignores this.

“I’m evil!” she says, weeping and shaking in his arms. “Please just do it!... Just kill me!”

There’s a clatter as Wesley, standing behind the pair, drops a kitchen knife.

To me, this is an amazing moment - so much comes to a head. I won’t bore you with the details, but I’ll say this: Someone who’s gotten into “Buffy” and now “Angel” will be affected by this moment. Faith is such a human character, and Eliza Dushku’s acting is fantastic.

Instead of examining the scene further, I want to make a point about great stories. I’d argue that they all hold a common quality: They entertain us as they reveal truths about the human condition – most especially, but not necessarily, on how we deal with death.


Applying the Theory

My solution applies pretty obviously to Faith's story. She commits horrible murders, but as a coping mechanism. When Angel comes to her with the possibility of redemption, she responds, before the chance is cruelly snatched away. Now, she seems hopelessly stuck on a serious downward spiral. She doesn't know what to do but act out violently. She tortures Wesley viciously, but it's really an appeal to Angel to end her confusion and suffering. He's still the face of her salvation; it's the solution itself that's changed.

So how do other stories deal with the human condition?

Glad you asked. I'll use my favorites as examples:

Franny and Zooey (Novella):
A college student, Franny, is bothered by the superficial characters surrounding her. She becomes obsessed with the "Jesus prayer" and suffers a nervous breakdown on a date. She then heads to her parents', where her brother, Zooey, points out that her constant prayer is as "egotistical as the egotism against which she rails."

The scene best illustrating this novella's power is the last. In the scene, Zooey's on the phone with his sister, Franny, telling her how he lives for the "Fat Lady" - the unremarkable woman in the audience of a game show in which they participated as kids. He took the idea from their older brother, Seymour, who'd committed suicide several years before. This is important to Franny because the Fat Lady isn't just the Fat Lady - she's everyone, "even Christ himself." The story inspires Franny to coexist with others in contentment, even joy. And even after Zooey hangs up, she holds to the phone, listening to the dial tone. She finds it "extraordinarily beautiful"... "the best possible substitute for the primordial silence itself." Perfect, right?

To Kill a Mockingbird (Novel & Film):

"Set in the small Southern town of Maycomb, Alabama, during the Depression, [the novel] follows three years in the life of 8-year-old Scout Finch, her brother, Jem, and their father, Atticus--three years punctuated by the arrest and eventual trial of a young black man accused of raping a white woman."

There are so many moments proving my theory: when Dill shares his dreams, when Atticus tells Scout what real courage is, when Miss Maudie says how some men are born to do our unpleasant jobs, or when Jem realizes why Boo’s stayed shut up for so many years. In the end, I couldn’t decide on my absolute favorite moment: It’s either Reverend Sykes’ words at the trial’s end – asking Scout to stand for her father – or a quote from the novel’s end, when Scout remarks:

 Atticus was right. One time he said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them. Just standing on the Radley porch was enough.

The novel (and film) are all about coming of age, coming to understanding suffering and what true courage is. And, of course, how beautiful mockingbirds - symbols of innocence and goodwill - are. This novel is poignant and clever, quietly revealing truths on nearly every page.

Looking for Alaska (Novel):

"Before. Miles “Pudge” Halter's whole life has been one big non-event. Then he heads off to the sometimes crazy, possibly unstable, and anything-but-boring world of Culver Creek Boarding School, and his life becomes the opposite of safe. Because down the hall is Alaska Young. The gorgeous, clever, funny, sexy, self-destructive, screwed-up, and utterly fascinating Alaska Young pulls Pudge into her world, launches him into a new life, and steals his heart. After. Nothing is ever the same."

This book's a heartbreaker, and it's full of hilarious, witty quotes. I was so moved after my first reading that I spent a summer writing a (horrible) novel attempt nearly identical to it. If I could give one example of this novel's power, it'd be the final line: 

Thomas Edison's last words were 'It's very beautiful over there'. I don't know where there is, but I believe it's somewhere, and I hope it's beautiful.”

It's the theme of death and the human condition, all over again. And I didn't even mention Alaska, a character every reader falls in love with. I mean, the girl uses her spare time to reflect on Simon Bolivar's "labyrinth of suffering" (from Garcia Marquez's "The General in His Labyrinth.)

I could go on, detailing how various novels can illustrate various philosophies, but this post is long enough already: Technicality can follow.

So, for now:

What do you think?

Great Stories, Part 2: Agreeing on Great Stories

Hesiod, upset at his lack of future fame.

Recently I've been thinking about great stories. 
This is the 2nd of three posts on the topic.

There are many reasons why some stories are rated or regarded highly - in the form of a novel, film, or television episode. Maybe they're told in a unique voice, have an especially engaging plot, are set in an unusual time or place. But why are some more famous than others? Why do only some last? For an example - why are Homer's works famous but not Hesiod's, though from the same culture and time period?

Let's skip thoughts for a second.

In 1998, Modern Library released a list of the 100 Greatest Novels. The list was automatically challenged, leading to the Reader's List and Radcliffe's rival list.

So why was the list challenged?

For one, a number of critics noticed that it focused on North American and European writers. It neglected foreign, lesser-known greats. Others were bothered by the lack of female representation; and one went as far as calling the entire thing a "sales gimmick."

It's a tricky business, rating novels. If you took a public poll, Homer would be rated over Hesiod, simply because his works have resonated more with modern culture. If you asked a group of knowledgeable critics, there would be a squabble. One might even sit to the side in refusal, arguing the two writers were too different to compare. (Not even gonna mention the possibility that Homer was two different people.)

As the man who called the original ML list a "sales gimmick" asked: "How can you quantify something as quicksilver as literature?''

At the end of the day, I'd argue that the key to agreeing on great stories is taking an unbiased and intelligent view. A judge would have to be knowledgeable about each story's medium and its qualities, but couldn't be allowed to have favorites. As I'm sure you can tell, this is pretty impossible. 

Personally, I generally disregard novel lists like Modern Library's. Creating them is just too subjective. (Plus, I'll usually spot one of my favorites below one I hate, then I'll go ranting to anyone who'll listen about it.) Instead, I read what I've heard of - I nearly always go by word-of-mouth (or word-of-blogs, I suppose.)

Even with Shakespeare this applies: Everyone knows he's got to be the greatest worthsmith ever, yet I - someone who reads quite a bit - never stopped to give him a chance until quite recently. It was only my English teacher's enthusiasm for Romeo & Juliet that convinced me to really examine Shakespeare's work... and I'm very glad I did.

What's your opinion? Do you agree with the lists' rankings? Is it possible to "quantify something as quicksilver as literature"? What's your solution?

Great Stories, Part 1: What Makes a Story Great?

This is the first of a 3-post discussion on great stories: “What Makes a Story Great?”, “Agreeing on Great Stories”, and “The Common Quality.”

A few days ago – last Thursday – I got into a conversation with a friend and a former teacher. The friend, who’s a sophomore at my school, has been reading “The Catcher in the Rye” in English.

To just say it: I love, love, love that book. All of Salinger’s stuff, actually. I had this prolonged moment of immense awe at the end of “Franny and Zooey”, a novella of his.

My friend wasn’t quite as moved. She did seem to like the novel, but hadn’t formed much of an opinion on it. She’s this way about most books, not big on critical analysis.

Then there was the teacher. She seriously disliked the book, completely dismissed it from the canon of great lit. Of course, I had a mixed reaction – equal parts shock, confusion, and loud, angry noises – and she somewhat hesitantly explained.

Her idea was that the book just wasn’t very good. It didn’t have any great metaphors; any symbols it contained were far too obvious. And teens mostly liked it because of the cussing.

I tried to explain why I think it’s great – it’s the best depiction of an adolescent EVER (Dostoevsky's "The Adolescent" gets spot #2.) I don’t think the teacher recognized it: She complained about the cussing, but it's crucial to the voice. The story never would have survived if it had been censored, I argued. And even though the sophomore English teacher didn’t especially like teaching the book, it was great for the students. Holden’s voice is attractive to angsty teens, lures them into the kind of critical thought and discussion most kids automatically reject. They want to talk about this book – or a large number of them, anyways.

Something I found interesting was that the teacher who disliked "Catcher" so greatly agreed with me on another novel: Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird." I've never actually met - or heard - of someone with criticisms for it (aside from a completely awful character in "The Perks of Being a Wallflower")... So why would one classic be met with such debate, another with such overwhelming love? I'd guess it's got to do with the target audience & style - "Mockingbird" is more of a traditional classic, and it was really quite loving to the South, despite the topic; whereas "Catcher" is, as I've said, totally angsty. And Holden does cuss a lot.

Now for the point: Whether you agree with the teacher, myself, or have an entirely different opinion on this, you've got to ask: What makes a story great? Whether it’s a novel, movie, TV – beyond the basic entertainment, what makes a story last and worth remembering? In the next two posts, I'll try to overview the discussion on this, and provide my own answers.

So - what do you think?