Authors: Ronald B Tobias
OF MICE AND ELEPHANT MEN
The story of John Merrick,
The Elephant Man,
reverses the cycle. He moves from a lower state to a higher state of consciousness, the reverse of Willie Stark. These stories are less common, which might say something about ourselves, but the ascension plot (the character's spiritual movement from sinner to saint rather than from saint to sinner) is uplifting. Whereas the descension plot serves as a cautionary tale, the ascension plot serves as a parable.
The Elephant Man
is a stirring ode to the dignity of the human spirit. It is a story of seeming transformation and redemption, an uncovering of the beauty within the beast. (If you wonder why this isn't a metamorphosis plot, it's because Merrick never changes from one physical state to another. He is simply "discovered" for who, not what, he is.)
Merrick is presented to us as a monster, and we understand only what we see—a hideous monster. But gradually we begin to see the man beneath the disfigurement. There is a scene in the film that brings his humanity to the surface in a touching way. The surgeon who has taken on Merrick's cause brings him home for tea. The surgeon's wife is horrified by the sight of him, but when Merrick sees the family photographs sitting on the mantel, he points to them and says, "They have such noble faces." He then reaches into his own pocket and pulls out a picture of his mother. "She had the face of an angel," he says, adding, "I might have been a great disappointment to her. I tried so hard to be good...."
Merrick must suffer tremendous personal physical and mental anguish in his quest to be a "human being." But he is absolutely dedicated to being accepted as human, not animal; and his search is finally rewarded, if only momentarily.
Stories like
The Elephant Man
are uplifting because they ultimately explore the positive aspects of human character. Your main character should overcome odds not just as a hero who has obstacles to conquer but as a character in the process of becoming a better person. Obviously it's easier to accomplish this task if your character starts out in something of a sorry state. The 1939 melodrama
Dark Victory
by George Emerson Brewer, Jr., and Bertram Bloch (which was later made into a film starring Bette Davis) is about Judith Traherne, a rich young socialite who is dying of a brain tumor. As the story starts, she's portrayed as a self-centered, spoiled, intolerable little rich girl. But as the disease progresses and humbles her, she begins to change.
But the change doesn't come suddenly, like someone turned on a faucet. Human character is complicated, and to be believable as a writer, you need to explore the human psyche as it might really behave in such circumstances. In
Dark Victory,
when Judith learns that her brain tumor is inoperable, she reacts with rage and cuts off her relationship with the doctor (which has been developing along personal lines). She parties hard and starts drinking heavily; she refuses to go to bed because she doesn't want to waste whatever time is left in her life. At a horse show she takes reckless risks to win because she knows she has nothing to lose. She turns cynical and bitter.
But she realizes that she cannot depart the world such a person, and she knows she must make her peace with the world and with those people who care for her. The transformation now takes a positive turn. (In psychology, her behavior would be characterized as going from denial of death to its acceptance.) Judith finally faces death with dignity—"beautifully, finely, peacefully." (I would recommend renting the video and watching this film because Bette Davis' performance is absolutely believable and first-rate.)
Leo Tolstoy's novella
The Death of Ivan Ilyich
is arguably one of the finest examples of the ascension plot (and one of the finest short works in all of literature). Ivan Ilyich is a man who, like Judith Traherne, is confronted by the prospect of death. (The threat of death you no doubt have noticed is a great catalyst.) Unlike Judith, however, Ivan is an ordinary man. Nothing distinguishes his life. In many ways he appeals to us as readers because we can see ourselves in him. He thinks life should be smooth, pleasant and routine. No surprises. He is a conscientious man who is responsible to his family and his employer. He is, from afar, boring.
But Tolstoy doesn't bore us with the details. We meet Ivan at his funeral and overhear people talking about him and wondering who will be promoted in his place, and we wonder why this poor dead man is being treated so irreverently.
Tolstoy then takes us back to the beginning of Ivan's decline, when he falls off a ladder and bruises his side. The accident seems trivial but his condition worsens. The story concentrates on Ivan's awareness of the meaning of life (and death) and finding love in the least expected places. Tolstoy's portrayal overwhelms us with its sensitivity and honesty. His portrayal of Ivan is so accurate that even if you apply the clinical standards of the five stages of dying (which were conceived long after Tolstoy wrote the story), they fit perfectly. We follow Ivan in his process step by step as death approaches. Fear is replaced by acceptance and, finally, peace. In an ironic way, Ivan's physical decline allows his spirit to ascend the mundane and the trivial.
This was Tolstoy's genius. He was an incredible observer of human character, and he knew how to bring it to print. Ivan's journey from life to death is a journey from slavery to freedom. It is the journey from a lower character state to a high spiritual state. This common man dies a quiet hero.
There is a lesson for writers in Tolstoy's story. You don't have to be outrageous in your selection of subject matter by having a story about someone as exotic as the Elephant Man. Your story can be about ordinary people. This story is harder to write because it lacks a lot of the easy mileage you can get out of stories like
The Elephant Man,
in which the main character is a monster on the outside but a gentle, intelligent person on the inside.
This isn't to slight
The Elephant Man,
which is a superb story. But
The Death of Ivan Ilyich
moves more deeply and explores human character more convincingly. It doesn't rely on gimmicks.
It relies on understanding human character at the ultimate turning point of life. Now
that's
powerful stuff.
WHO KNOWS WHAT EVIL LURKS IN THE HEARTS OF MEN . . .
Now for the flip side. Just as the ascension plot examines the positive values of human character under stress, the descension explores the negative values of human character under stress. These are dark tales. They are tales about power and corruption and greed. The human spirit fails in its moment of crisis.
People like Charles Foster Kane in
Citizen Kane,
Michael Cor-leone in
The Godfather
trilogy and King Richard III in Shakespeare's play of the same name fascinate us. So do characters like Elmer Gantry (in
Elmer Gantry),
Willy Loman (in
Death of a Salesman)
and Jake La Motta (in
Raging Bull).
The characters in these stories may range in character from evil (such as Michael Corleone—although we start to develop a smidgen of sympathy for him in
Godfather III
when he tries to atone for his sins) to a sort of wonderment (such as for Charles Foster Kane, who can't be characterized as a "bad" man). As the writer you must focus on what might be loosely called "the journey of life," the rise and fall of your main character. We follow Kane from the moment he is separated from his mother (and father) as a young, carefree boy. Now that he is rich, he has responsibilities. We see him as a young man full of idealism and energy and a desire to make the world a better place. We follow him through the twists and turns of a complicated life. Gradually he becomes disillusioned and bitter about what life has offered him and his lack of power to make the changes he wants to make. Kane isn't an ordinary person. As you develop your central character, you will find that she will quickly become extraordinary. Your main character may start out average, but events (Fate, if you prefer) lift the character above the ordinary and the trivial. The question that ultimately backs most of these stories is simple: How will fame (or power, or money) affect this character? We see her before the change, during the change and after the change, and we compare the phases of character development she has gone through as a result of these circumstances. Some handle it well; others don't.
This doesn't mean your main character must crash morally. The tension, as in
Citizen Kane,
comes as a result of the ocean of difference between what Kane hoped to do with his money and his life and what he actually does. The effort may be valiant, but it fails in this scenario. And because it fails, it leads to disillusionment, unhappiness and even ruin. The lesson seems to be that having fame (power, money) isn't everything—it may not even be enough. These things sometimes (although not always) corrupt, or at least they are forces that are stronger than the people who have them.
Depending on the message you want to present to the reader, you should understand clearly the moral or social implications of the chain of events in your story. If power or money ultimately corrupts your hero, what are you saying about power or money? That these forces are stronger than any of us? This message would be particularly strong if your character is basically good before coming into power and is transformed into a character of dubious values as a result of the power. That would make a strong statement about the corruption of values as a result of power or money. You may be saying that these things in and of themselves are evil. Is that the message you want to give?
The normal effect of these forces (fame, power, money) is a struggle between your character in his previous state (that is, how he was before the catalyst changed things) and the character as he develops into a new person being shaped by events. (Note the difference between this and the transformation plot, which opens with the change.) How easily does your character give in to the abuse of power? Does he resist? In a meaningful way? Or does he just cave in? There's so much human psychology for you to deal with that you should have a goal (that is, a definite idea of what you want to say about the subject matter) to work toward.
As you fashion your character, keep in mind that it's important for the reader to know and understand the stages of development that your character is going through. We should know what he was like
before
the great change in his life so we have a basis of comparison. This constitutes the first movement of your plot.
In the second movement, we should experience the change that propels your character from his previous self into his emerging self. This may be a gradual progression over months or even years, or it may be instantaneous (a sudden stroke of good fortune such as winning the lottery or suddenly being thrust into a position of power). These events make it impossible for your character to remain the same.
The third movement is the culmination of character and events. If the character has a flaw, we will see the expression of the flaw and how it affects him and those around him. Your character may overcome that flaw after some drastic event forces him to confront himself, or he may succumb to the flaw. Usually (but not always) some catastrophe—the result of your character's behavior—forces a realization of what he has "become." Again, it depends on what you want to say about this kind of character in this kind of circumstance, and what you want to say about human nature. Is it strong? Or weak? Are we but the playthings of the universe? Or can we take Fate in our hands and fashion a future for ourselves?
If a character abuses other people during his trip to the top, oftentimes we expect to see that character get his comeuppance. Pride goeth before the fall. We prefer to see haughty people taken down a notch or two. But if the human spirit must overcome great odds, as in the case of the Elephant Man, and that character demonstrates that he deserves to achieve his goal, we want the character to move to a higher spiritual plane. We want him to triumph. But he must prove to us his worthiness. Wanting it isn't enough; even deserving it isn't enough; your character needs to
earn
it.
The story is about your main character; events start and finish with him. He should overwhelm others by virtue of his larger-than-life attributes (positive or negative). He should be charismatic, fascinating and strong. We should be drawn to him, hero or villain.
A lot of the other plots examine human nature and how character is affected under stress, but few plots do it as thoroughly as these two. We recognize that life has its ups and downs and these plots characterize just those fluctuations in human events. For some people the rises and falls are much more dramatic than for the rest of us, and those meteoric people fascinate us. They aren't
like us, and yet they're very much like us. They love and hate the same way we do, with the exception that theirs seems more exaggerated. The rises go much higher, and the falls plunge much lower.
Once you've found the moral center for your character and decide whether he will win or lose the struggle, you will see more clearly how to achieve those goals. We are often told we should write with an end in mind, though this is easier said than written. With these plots, however, it's almost an absolute necessity to know how you intend to draw the character. (Notice I said "almost"—nothing is absolute when it comes to writing.) The dramatist would have us believe there is a tragic flaw in each of us waiting for an opportunity to express itself. If it's true, most of us don't have much to worry about. But there are those who step into the limelight of attention (and power) who are tested. Some hold up and are heroes. Others do not—and perhaps they're only human.