GUEST POST: Harry is a Tool, Aang is a Hero

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Hey, Readers!  Today I have a treat for you lucky folk in the form of a wonderful guest post by my friend Rob.  Some months ago, Rob and I found ourselves in a debate about stories that include a "chosen one" (read about it here).  Rob has some interesting ideas -- including a theory as to why Harry Potter isn't really a hero.  I'll let him explain ...

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Hi.  I’m Rob.  Jonathan and I were good friends back when I was handsomer and less hairy.  I live in South Korea (not the scary one), and write a blog about South Korea.  I’m no expert in fantasy or young adult books, but I am a breathless lover of awesome things and a frustrated thinker-abouter (some editors prefer ‘think-abouterer’) for things that try to be awesome but fail: for example, stories, songs and raspberry sorbets.

We once discussed what Jonathan called “prophecy stories,” stories featuring “Chosen Ones” like Harry Potter, Ender Wiggin and King Arthur, here, here, here and here.  “Chosen Ones” have some great destiny expected (sometimes prophesied) of them.  Now, I thrill to a great hero story, but not any old hero thrills me: I’m not easy.  So let’s talk about some “Chosen Ones” I adore:

 **Spoiler Alerts** for The Harry Potter Series, Ender’s Game, and Avatar: The Last Airbender (TV series)

Harry Potter started off as my favorite hero ever.  The first three books were fun and gripping, the characters were lively and hilarious.  Courage, cleverness, and awesome friends helped Harry, and the author threw him a rope when he got in too deep.

Then, in book four, Harry’s preparations for the Triwizard Tournament were as last-minute and half-hearted as his quest for a date to the Yule Ball.  When Harry learns he won the tournament because somebody wanted him to, a hero would think, “That should have been my hide. I’d better not bank on luck again.”  The time had come to start kicking butt through resourcefulness and preparedness, not courage and luck.

Cue training montage: 

Harry forms Dumbledore’s Army.  He also lies about his connection with Voldemort, quits Occlumency, walks into more traps, and fails to get the information Dumbledore needs without JK Rowlicis... oops I mean felix felicis.[2. A description of felix felicis can be found here]  Instead of watching a kid learn from mistakes and improve, we watch Harry beat himself up for his mistakes and resent a lot of stuff.  Holden Caulfield, yes.  Heroic, no.

But the undoing of Harry the hero is this: long ahead of time, Dumbledore and Snape knew Harry had to die to destroy Voldemort[3. As revealed in Deathly Hallows, pg 686]  Except they didn’t tell Harry!  In Chamber of Secrets, Dumbledore says,  “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are,” but by hiding vital information until it was far too late for Harry to do anything but sacrifice himself, Snape and Dumbledore (mostly J.K. Rowling) robbed Harry of real choice.

And that means I read seven books to learn Harry’s a weapon aimed by Dumbledore and Snape, or a cog in Rowling’s plot mechanism: less heroic either way.  It means the first three books telling me he was the crucial choice-maker in the series, were misleading me.

Yet I give Ender Wiggin a pass, though he had no choice in Ender's Game, either.  Why?  Because once he learned the consequences of his choices, he took ownership of them.  Because heroes live with their choices, and learn from them, and change (heroes don’t walk into another trap in book five, and another in Godric’s Hollow, despite what happened to Cedric and Sirius).

Also, nothing in Harry Potter reaches the level of nuance and insight Ender displays here:

          “In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it's impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves. And then, in that very moment when I love them--"

         "You beat them."

Ender Wiggen was special from birth, but he was also recruited for his talent:  Ender had to pass a test before going to Battle School to fulfill his destiny.  Excalibur didn’t magically come out of the stone for him.  His talents, though, made him especially suited to perform his task.[4. Jonathan here: Rob also made a generous comparison between Peter Nimble and Ender Wiggen, which I cut because it made me blush.]

Finally, which “Chosen One” checks every box?  My favorite hero right now is a boy named Aang, from the awesome Nikelodeon cartoon series “Avatar: The Last Airbender”.

In Aang’s world, some people can “bend” or control one of the four elements -- Earth, Air, Water, and Fire.  The Avatar is a continually reincarnating person with power to control all four, tasked with keeping the four elements in balance.  So ... imagine the Dalai Lama was a diplomat with superpowers.  But Aang ran from his Avatar training, and got frozen in ice for a century while the Fire Nation took over.  Now, he must take up the responsibility he once shirked, master all four elements, and then defeat the Fire Nation king to restore balance.

 Traveling with a team of friends, Aang masters the four elements.  He learns, in his training and in his relationships.  Aang deals with the guilt of abandoning the Air Nation (who were wiped out).  He is also a kid, and acts like one.  He plays pranks, cracks people up, and makes faces at babies.  The supporting characters are humans too, with strengths and flaws, journeys, and tough choices.  They suffer loss, and even grieve.  They learn from mistakes.  Or they don’t.  Each earns the fate they receive.

For the final battle, sprits of previous Avatars encourage Aang to kill the Fire King.  Aang’s journey has made him hate killing, so he is unwilling to live with having made that ultimate choice.  Instead, Aang negotiates a new path, true to his values as well as his duty as Avatar.  By balancing his individuality and his destiny, Aang’s “Chosen One” journey is totally satisfying.

These stories show me I like heroes who take control of their situations, earn their victories, and own their choices - including mistakes.  Their authors put them in situations where they are real people with real choices, not just props and placeholders.  Without these elements, even “Chosen Ones” (perhaps especially them) fail to move me.

 Call me picky.

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Thanks for the fantastic insights, Rob!  Bloggers Matt Bird and Tanner Higgin have been after me to watch Avatar for ages now ... between your three recommendations, I find myself with no choice but to check it out!  Ooh, look!  It's on Netflix ... (promptly wastes the entire afternoon)

One Word Every Writer Should Know ...

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Last week, I had the pleasure of watching a staged adaptation of CS Lewis' Till We Have Faces.  In advance of the show, I sat down and read the book.[1. This was long overdue; people have been telling me that I would *love* this novel for years.  Summary judgment: I think this is a book that would have blown my mind in college, but less so as an adult.]  There was something near the end of the story that seemed like a good jumping-off point for a topic I've been meaning to blog about for ages. 

First, a little setup:  Lewis' book is a retelling of the myth of Cupid & Psyche.  It follows Psyche's scorned older sister, Orual.  After losing her beloved sister, Orual becomes embittered and angry.  At the end of the story, she finally gets an audience before the gods -- a chance to make her case for how they have wronged her.  But instead of giving a sympathetic plea, she unleashes a tirade that betrays her own selfishness. 

Orual hears the ugliness of her own anger, and it prompts a revelation: 

"Lightly men talk of saying what they mean. ... When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you'll not talk about joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should we hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"[2. The excerpt is from Part II, ch. 4]

This "word" that Lewis eludes to is the magical, rare moment when a person sees him or herself with clarity for the first time.  Aristotle (the grandfather of writing analysis) had a word for this moment in a character's journey: "anagnorisis." 

Let's let the man himself explain the term (through Wikipedia):

There you have it.  Anagnorisis is the moment when someone understands a Truth so powerful that it effects change in their lives.  I don't know about you, but this moment is the reason I read stories. In fact, I judge the quality of a story by the quality of its anagnorisis, because when done right, I share in the character's epiphany.

A great number of Aristotle's playwriting terms have survived into the present age (climax, catharsis), but none of them are so valuable to understanding the power of a story as anagnorisis.[3. For those interested in learning a bit more about Aristotle, screenwriter Matt Bird just posted a great summary of how Poetics has influenced screenwriting for better and worse.]  Unfortunately, this word is all but forgotten -- it's not even in the OED.[3. Neither, I might add, is the word "scop."] 

I have a card with "anagnorisis" on it taped to the wall above my desk, because I never want to forget that every chapter, scene, and word is working to that one profound moment.  After all, How can my characters meet audiences face to face till they have faces?

 

Announcing PeterNimble.com!

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At long last, PeterNimble.com is live!


The site is the result of some work by me and a ton of work by the brilliant Amanda McPherson (who also designed The Scop)!  At PeterNimble.com, you'll find everything you'd ever want to know about the greatest thief who ever lived -- including reviews, an illustration gallery, interviews, event photos, and an awesome "mischief!" page for aspiring delinquents! 

Check it out!

Also, if you're so inclined, I would love for fans to Tweet the word by clicking here!

 

 

 

Darth Vader Takes a Break ...

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No fancy post today because I'm visiting schools in anticipation of a signing event at Mrs. Nelson's Bookstore in LaVerne TONIGHT at 5:00pm!!!! Come check it out. If you can't make that, I'm having my first LA signing tomorrow at Chevalier's in Hollywood from 1-3pm -- please, oh please come!

In the meantime, I thought I'd post a picture I drew a while back.  I was showing my younger cousins Jude and Asher (5 and 7, respectively) how the drawing tablet on my computer worked.  I asked the oldest one what I should draw.  He said, "Darth Vader!"  I asked the younger one where Darth Vader should be.  He said, "In the bathroom!"  And there you have it ...

I'll admit, not my finest work!

Great Books That Turned Me Off From Reading

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The above picture is from Kelly Butcher's excellent blog, the Lemme Library.  Note the second name on that checkout list![1. I would be lying if I said the thought of Peter Nimble checking out a book also read by Lucy Pevensie and Edward Tulane didn't make me cry a bit!]  Yesterday I had the honor of teaming up with fellow Abrams' author Tom Angleberger to write a guest post for Kelly on a topic very dear to my heart: What to do when you hate a classic

It's a lively conversation and definitely worth checking out if you've ever felt at odds with the critical mass.  (Tom may or may not refer to Peter Pan as "dreck!")  In the post, I mention three books that I was forced to read in school that turned me off from reading:  The Yearling by Marjorie Rawlings, A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, and Romeo & Juliet by ... some dude ... can't remember his name ...

Anyway, a few readers expressed a desire to learn what about those particular books bothered me so much.  I thought I'd take a crack at answering the question here! 

First off, a disclaimer:  I am not saying these books are actually bad, only that my experiences with them were negative.  But the fact remains that they did more damage than good. 

The Yearling - I read this book in seventh grade Language Arts class.  Nothing too pointed in my criticism beyond the fact that this book had nothing to do with me or my life.  By that age, I was enough of a reader to know that there were many wonderful, exciting books out there.  But instead of reading Ray Bradbury or SE Hinton, we were stuck with this story of a farm kid and his pet deer.  What was the damage?  The choice of text led me to believe that great stories (which I read at home) and English Literature (which I read in class) were completely unrelated things.

Romeo & Juliet - I read this play in grade ten.  There is a common problem in pop culture where Romeo & Juliet is peddled as a love story when it's actually a cautionary tale.  Even as a young adolescent, I could tell that whatever Romeo and Juliet had going on between them was not real love -- certainly not an ideal to aspire to.  And yet the play was presented to me as some kind of timeless love story.  I remember reading it and thinking, "If this is Shakespeare's idea of true love, then he doesn't really know much about the world."  What was the damage?  When I later read other Shakespeare plays (Hamlet, Midsummer Night's Dream), I was unreceptive; I had already made up my mind that this was a writer who had nothing to teach me.[2. Of course I could not have been more wrong on this point -- I owe a tremendous debt to both Julie Taymor and Niel Gaiman for setting me straight!]

A Tale of Two Cities - I don't know what makes educators think that this book is a good introduction to Dickens -- yes, it's short, but it is also devoid of Boz' trademark humor and charm.  I read this in my junior year of high school, and I hated every word.[3. Looking back now, I think I struggled because I lacked the necessary historical context.  To really appreciate this book, you need to have a sense of both the French Revolution and the Victorian social reform movement -- only then can you start to understand why Dicken's English readers would be interested in things that transpired half a century earlier in a different country.]  I already knew and liked some of Dickens more kid-friendly stories (Oliver Twist, A Christmas Carol), and I deduced wrongly from Tale of Two Cities that this was what happened when authors wrote "serious" books ... they got boring.  I suppose a positive effect of this experience was that it drove me to further embrace children's literature as the sort of stories I wanted to write![4. It took me even longer to come around to Dickens; I didn't start reading him again until I went to graduate school and met an pretty young Victorianist with pigtails!]

So those were a few classic books with which I really struggled.  I've since gone back and re-read the latter two, and I have to say they were better the second time around.  I'm not sure whether a different teacher could have gotten me to respond to the books or whether I was simply too young.

My wife and I were discussing this topic yesterday, and I asked her what the solution might be. She said the best thing for her in high school was a (wonderful) English teacher who alternated between fun and challenging texts:  students read one difficult assigned book, and then they read one book of their choosing (from a list).  Seems like a nice carrot-and-stick compromise!

THE NEDDIAD Quote #2

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Seeing the Grand Canyon:
"He kept thinking it was some fantastic big painting, or a movie set. There was a little building put up by the park service, with a model of the Grand Canyon made out of plaster and painted to look real ... in some strange way, looking at the model was more comfortable than looking at the actual thing. After looking at the model for a while, we went outside and found we were able to deal with the real canyon a little better."

Daniel Pinkwater
The Neddiad ch. 14

Irony vs. Sarcasm

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What's the difference between irony and sarcasm? Most thesauri list them as synonyms, but anyone who's been on the receiving end of either type of humor can tell you the difference at once: ironic statements make you laugh, and sarcastic statements make you cry. 

Many a protective parent has assured his or her teased child that sarcasm is the lowest form of humor.  And the word sarcasm literally translates to mean "to tear the flesh."  But what exactly is it it about a sarcastic statement that makes it a low form of humor?  And what makes it "tear the flesh?"  I've been mulling over this question for a while now, and I think I've landed on an answer:

Sarcasm happens when the observed irony does not extend to the speaker.

That is to say that an ironic person includes himself among the mocked, whereas a sarcastic person stands outside the situation in judgement.  See how it might play out in the below scene involving a bunch of nerds camping outside of a movie theater:

In this instance, the guy making fun of the people is including himself in the joke -- after all, he's in the line, too!  But consider what happens when the speaker is not in line with the others:

Sarcasm is the one kind of joke that can be made by someone who does not actually find something funny -- it is humor for the humorless.  In life, I have a problem with sarcasm because I don't believe that any person has the right to laugh at others unless he can first laugh at himself.

And what about sarcasm in storytelling?

To be clear, I'm all for sarcastic characters (I enjoy Holden Caulfield as much as the next guy!).  But sarcastic authors are a different thing altogether.  Sarcastic authors attempt to point out absurdities in the world, but they try to do it from a safe distance -- never letting themselves become a part of the joke.  The only way to do this is by creating straw men for the express purpose of knocking them down. Ironically(!),  this ends up undercutting the author's initial goal, because now instead of critiquing the world, he is critiquing some flimsy characters who bear little resemblance to the world. 

The end result is a thing neither funny nor true.

School Visits, T-Shirts, and Signings -- Oh my!

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Now that the craziness of the book release has calmed down, I'll be returning to a more regular posting schedule (MWF) in which I discuss broader subjects in children's books.[1. Next week's topics will include the allure of genre mashups as well as a post about the difference between sarcasm and irony -- stay tuned]

In the meantime, I wanted to share about my absolutely crazy week.  First off, I managed to get invited to an amazing party at author Cornelia Funke's house.  I got to hang out with a slew of teachers and booksellers ... as well as Newbery winning author Susan Patron.[2. Susan was delightful and very nice. She's having a signing at Skylights Books on the 18th for anyone interested in meeting her.] 

Even more awesome, this week I did my very first SCHOOL VISITS!  I did four middle schools in two days -- each group was between 300-400 kids.  The presentation included candy, costumes, toilet plungers, yo-yos and, of course, Peter Nimble!   The whole thing culminated in a signing at Redlands Barnes & Noble.  We had a huge turnout of awesome kids at the signing!  Here's a picture of me doing a little lightning quick sketch-artistry to explain some of the story:  

Also, check out this ridiculous photo from an article in the local paper about the event.  I especially love how this photo features my many weak chins:

I owe a huge thanks to librarian Joan McCall and B&N's Laurie Aldern for organizing the event.  I've got a whole slew of signings and presentations in the coming months ... check out my events tab to see the full list. Once I get a few more of these visits under my belt, I'll be writing a post with tips about what I've learned presenting to schools.  Until then, consider booking me in a school or store near you!

This is as good a time as any to point my Los Angeles friends to TWO upcoming signings that I'll be doing next week:

I will be at the famous Mrs. Nelson's Books & Toys on Friday the 23rd at 5pm in conjunction with another school visit.  And the following day (Sept 24), I will be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles from 1-3pm.  The store is on Larchmont in Mid-Wilshire.  For my LA friends, I urge you to please, please, PLEASE come to the Chevalier's signing.  Seriously, what else are you doing at 1pm on a Saturday?

And finally, I've picked winners from the Peter Nimble t-shirt giveaway!  The winners were selected from anyone who wrote a Peter Nimble review on Amazon, Goodreads, or B&N.com before August 31.  Here they are:

Karissa Eckert - "A creative world, interesting plot, and wonderful characters make this a book that is fun to read and hard to put down."

Nicola Manning - "A wonderful story that quickly grabs your attention with delightful characters one becomes fond of right away."

Joceline Foley - "Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes is a classic hero-on-a-quest novel, yet it manages to be anything but predictable and boring. The archetypal characters are fresh, funny, and smart."

Aislynn Thompson - "The author did a fantastic job of weaving all the various stories of each character together - from the evil kind, the lost princess, the mysterious desert with the thieves, the crows, the missing children ... all of it was woven together into a story that I couldn't put down!"

Francine Kizner - "Peter Nimble is a fun and exciting adventure story that brings a fresh voice and perspective to children's literature. It's enthralling, funny, and very entertaining."

I've contacted the winners -- congrats, gang!

I've had a number of people ask about buying Peter Nimble t-shirts.  For those interested, you can grab one for $20 (this includes shipping).  The shirts are hand-printed on American Apparel 50/50 tees. Please specify size (XS, S, M, L, XL) whether you want green or blue.  Click below to pay through paypal, or contact me directly to mail a check. 

Size
Color

Four More Thoughts on Writing Action ...

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I wanted to write a follow-up to my previous post about the importance of specificity in action scenes.  Namely, four things:

1. You do not have to be super to be a hero

Many writers make the mistake of thinking that action sequences are about showcasing a hero's strengths ... but for my money, the drama is found in exposing their weaknesses.  A while back, a good friend of mine wrote a NY Magazine piece on this very subject entitled Are Martial Arts Ruining Action?  The article traces the origins of the martial arts explosion in Hollywood action movies and laments how every actor now goes through months of training in order to make the wire-Fu look authentic in their cop movie.  Why is this bad?  Because no matter how well executed and thoughtful the fights may be, no character in a cop movie has any business doing backflips.[1. The Rush Hour franchise, of course, gets a pass on this particular gripe.]


2. Superhuman action is low-stakes action

So what about stories where the superpowers are already built into the plot?  Shouldn’t the X-Men be able to do backflips?  Perhaps, but it’s still important to make the super-punches mean something.  If characters can take an unlimited (or even undefined) amount of damage, it’s hard for audiences to care about the outcome.  Screenwriter and friend Matt Bird has a great piece about this subject over at his blog, The Cockeyed Caravan.  Check it out!


3. Above all, action should make sense

Last week, movie critic Jim Emerson launched a great series examining how action sequences can go wrong simply by ignoring the 101 of filmmaking.  His first example?  The Dark Knight Returns.  Emerson goes shot-by-shot through an epic car chase, revealing how careless editing can lead to a needlessly disorienting experience.  This reinforces my longstanding belief that James Cameron is the greatest living director of chases for the simple fact that he makes sure that at all times the audience knows the following three things:

1) where the good guys are

2) where the bad guys are

3) where the exits are

Don't believe me?  I invite you to watch for yourself.

 
4. Sometimes no action is the action

While I generally think it's bad for writers to summarize action scenes, there are some stories that deliberately do so because its essential to their overall message.  A good example of this is Tolkien.  Despite having written an epic trilogy about the battle between good and evil, Tolkien keeps his action scenes infuriatingly short -- usually under a page.  Roger Ebert observed as much when he reviewed The Fellowship of the Ring, in which he points out that the central action set piece of the movie (the fight with the Balrog) takes up less than 500 words in the original book.  So was Tolkien being lazy with his action writing?  I’d say in this case, sidestepping the action was the action -- the author was signaling to readers that the meaningful events of this particular story were found in the journey itself, not the skirmishes.

Blow by Blow: What D&D Taught Me About Storytelling

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In theatre, descriptive action sequences are almost non-existent.  Hamlet may talk a big game, but at the end of the script, all we get is: “dies” (Not even a definite article for the poor Prince of Denmark!)   This works in playwriting because specific action is limited to the capabilities of specific actors, budgets, and stages -- why write a death scene that a director will just have to change anyway?[1. One could argue that the unique appeal of theatre is this infinite variety in staging possibilities  -- no two productions are alike.]

The same is not true for novelists and screenwriters.  Books and movies are stories fixed in time -- if every reader is seeing a different thing during an action scene, that’s a problem.[2. I am not objecting to ambiguous ideas or themes in books and movies, but I would argue that the basic questions who/what/where/when should be universally understood … because only when those things are clearly established can readers effectively debate the why behind those actions.]  Unfortunately, I often read action sequences that give me the feeling that writers are going on autopilot:  instead of writing a tightly constructed series of dramatic events, they simply write “and here we get an awesome chase sequence!” 

I’m ashamed to say I’ve done it myself.   Writing action scenes is hard, and it’s nice to think that those difficult bits can be reduced to a few lines of summary.  But summarizing fights and chases is like a comic carefully setting up a joke and then replacing the punch line with “hilarity ensues!"  (To be fair, "hilarity ensues" is sort of an awesome punch line in its own right.)

And when you get down to it, truly funny moments don’t even have traditional punch lines -- watch your favorite comedy and write down the laugh-out-loud moments.  I guarantee you that the biggest laughs will fall on generic lines like “Actually I quite like it” and “I can imagine.”[3. These are actual examples taken from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy ... I find such human moments far funnier than the digressions on multiple heads and improbability engines.]  Such lines are not funny in a vacuum; they’re funny because that character said it in that specific moment.[4. This is something my MFA director Milan Stitt was fond of saying -- credit goes to him for the observation.]

I'm going to make a confession that I might regret.  About a year ago, I joined some of Mary's colleagues in a weekly "tabletop gaming" group ... which is a dressed-up term for Dungeons & Dragons.  This was a pretty smart bunch of people (our game master has a PhD in comic books!), and I learned a lot from the experience -- not only about roleplaying games, but also about the give-and-take of corporate storytelling.  

One of the central aspects of any roleplaying game is combat.  Generally speaking, most roleplaying games are pretty conversational and free-form … but when a bad guy shows up, everyone pulls out dice, and charts, and (in my case) a calculator!  Suddenly, there's an order of operations, and a series of rigid rules to help choreograph every movement of a battle.  

I sort of became obsessed with the details of these "encounters" and started taking copious notes about every move in the hope of unlocking some secret about how to write action scenes.  I wanted to figure out what separated the so-so encounters from the ones that sucked us in -- inspiring recaps, arguments, and in-jokes.

What I discovered is that blow-by-blow, the actions in a fun encounter were no different from those in a boring encounter -- sometimes you landed a hit, sometimes you missed.  What made a difference was when those ordinary actions were a reflection of the personality of individual character:  a hothead fighter dives into a suicide battle right after the rest of the group has agreed to retreat; a vengeful character murders an enemy who has already surrendered; a noble character sacrifices herself so that others can escape.  

That is to say, the actions are dramatic because that character did them in that specific moment.