Literary Tattoos: Girls, dragons, and Shangri-La

March 8th, 2010

tattoo Final 27x40.inddThe publishers wanted a title they could take to the bank. The original Swedish title you wouldn’t take to a dog fight: Men Who Hate Women. What were they thinking over at the marketing department? Capitalizing on a red hot cultural trend, the English publishers hit on The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and they’ve been laughing all the way to ‘you know where’. Whether by accident or design, they also deployed one of the most powerful literary devices – a highly graphic unifying image. A literary tattoo!

Symbols of any kind can help us decypher what lies at the heart of a story. Think of the mockingbird in To Kill a Mockingbird, or the white whale in Moby Dick. For that matter, who can forget the Polynesian harpooner (Queequeg) and his tattoos. Every good film or book has a compelling image that serves as the theme’s touchstone, and only rarely in film or literature has it been a tattoo.

Dragon Tattoo’s most creative invention is Lisbeth Salander, the enigmatic co-protagonist who cleans up after the hateful men in her life. Without this dark and vengeful angel the book may have proved too cruel to digest. She, of course, is the woman with the dragon tattoo.

Author Stieg Larsson didn’t over-cook the dragon motif. In fact, the tattoo is barely mentioned. In my latest novel, ROXY, I treat a tattoo motif in the same subtle fashion. Central images work best that way, just as the moral of a book or film is often buried in a minor incident. Yet the detail reverberates throughout the story. It’s just these kinds of ripples repeatedly encountered that make reading long-form fiction so enjoyable. And what makes speculating upon the writer’s intention so much fun.

So, what did the late Stieg Larrson intend with his dragon motif? Obviously he wanted to add depth to the Salander character. He wanted the reader to understand her without being told in so many unwieldy words. A tattoo has the potential to do that. What might we have expected of Lisbeth Salander if, instead of a dragon, she wore a floral design, or Our Lady of Guadalupe? We would anticipate a more forgiving character – definitely not the personality Larsson had in mind. Readers rightfully expect a character simmering with a latent vengeance capable of breathing fire.

Sometimes an author will chose an icon with significance more far-reaching than he intended. It seems to me that Larsson’s dragon also speaks to inconvenient history that the plot unearths, crimes so hideous that they could only have been committed by men held hostage by their own lizard brains.

A tattoo defines my young protagonist in the novel, ROXY. I wanted her to appear both rebellious and heart-felt. A tattoo over her heart would accomplish that, a text tattoo spelling “Shangri-La”. How could this not imply something central to her life? This is the tattoo’s uniquely powerful medicine – it serves as a talisman reflecting a person’s deepest fears or desires.

Roxy’s tattoo is a reminder of her long-dead grandmother, the person closest to her heart. While that may sound so very sentimental, the tattoo is meanwhile helping to hold the story universe together in its role as central image. “Shangri-La” provides a clue to where the story is headed, quite literally.

A unifying icon like a tattoo is a nucleus around which readers can organize their participation in the story. Yes, we do participate – by anticipating events in the plot, and finally by unlocking the story’s meaning. This is what we expect of an emblem or myth or tattoo, and that’s what we get—understanding without laborious thinking. And here’s the kicker – readers are smart – we’re aware of cross-currents of meaning, if only on a subliminal level.

While reading a good book, the magical part of our brain thrives on hints and buried clues. It works overtime – often without our knowing it – to interpret minor details, throw-away lines, and hidden symbols such as Salander’s dragon and Roxy’s Shangri-La tattoo.

(Interested in other articles of mine on tattoos?  See: Ancient Tattoos and Erotic Tattoos on this website or at www.vanishingtattoo.com )

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

We Can’t All Be Everything

March 2nd, 2010

I’m writing a review of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” for the Vanishing Tattoo website. Author Stieg Larsson has created an unlikely duo that team up to solve the mystery of a long-ago disappearance of a young woman in a lonely Swedish landscape. Blomkvist and Salander couldn’t appear more incompatible – a middle-aged journalist, principled, disciplined and male,  in league with a young, brooding, anorexic, rebellious, body-modified hacker. About the only thing they have in common is the brewing and drinking of unhealthy amounts of coffee (on just about every page, I swear it’s true). Soon, though, it’s clear that for different reasons Blomkvist and Salander have something else simmering on the back burner – vengeance.

Never mind the story – what interests me is the device of bringing together such stark opposites. It makes for great dramatic tension, not least because Salander and Blomkvist become romantically involved. It also makes the point that two people can become one super-powered organism. What if we were to extrapolate that to humanity in general?

Recently, I’ve become impressed with my limitations. I am not and never will acquire a talent for figure skating, quantum physics, or navigating FaceBook. Similarly, few people on earth have my unique passion for sounding important in print, collecting old golf clubs, and meditating. Obviously, we can’t all be everything. As a species, though, we are – all together—everything. The evolution of the human species would appear to be lurching, however painfully slowly, toward a secure ontological footing in this fact.

So what?

So this – a vicarious glimpse of wholeness is one of the rewards of reading good literature. Authors aren’t knowingly designing stories with this in mind. They don’t have to. It’s part of a protagonist’s job description to gain a larger worldview in advance of charging into Act III.

After getting sufficiently battered by the forces of antagonism, the hero starts to become disenchanted with all her best efforts and comes to learn that she is ‘only human’. If she accepts that notion, she realizes that she’s part of a larger interconnected humanity. By acknowledging our limits, we simultaneously see the advantages of surrendering to how the whole works together. We see this in stories all the time. Look for it.

By the end of “Dragon Tattoo,” the dark and tattooed angel known as Salander is just beginning to wake up to these facts of life. She has two sequels to look forward to. Two more thick volumes in which to experiment with the nearly impossible art of becoming human.

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

The Main Thing in Life

February 25th, 2010

A recent review of “Roxy” would appear to be suggesting that the subject of teen pregnancy is inappropriate for young adults. The reviewer wrote: “…the heart-warming ending is based on something which is wrong.”

Wrong? Hmm. Gee. How on earth can tears, or a warm heart, be wrong? Oh, before I go on, I should report that the reviewer appeared to sincerely like most of the book:

“It’s a good story – I was very keen to keep turning the pages to find out how things would work out and how the mysteries of Roxy and Maddy’s lives would unravel. There’s a great sense of place too – I swear I could smell the herb fields in Corfu and…” Etc.

In other words, some of life’s problems – teen sex, pregnancy, young motherhood – though valid themes for adults, are too hot for teens. Oh, yes, the reviewer also added that, “Alcohol and pregnancy shouldn’t mix, even in fiction.” Never mind that Roxy, never consumed any alcohol in the story, “…she would have drunk it if she’d liked it,” the reviewer reckoned.

Okay, you get the picture. It’s Roxy vs political correctness. Those of you who know me are bracing for a rant – but no – today I’m leaving my rebuttal in the hands of another writer more talented by far. Colin Higgins.

Higgins wrote that delightfully irreverent little story called “Harold and Maude” which showed up on the big screen in 1978. It’s the story of a romance between a 19 year old boy and an 80 year old woman. He finds her a bit wild, and tells her so. She replies, sweetly.

“Virtue? It’s best not to be too moral. You cheat yourself out of too much life. Aim above morality. As Confucius says, ‘Don’t simply be good. Make good things happen.’”

 

I think Roxy can fairly be credited for making a lot of good things happen for her damaged family. Her desire to raise a healthy child is not the least of those good deeds.

I often see political correctness as an attempt to cover up an awkward truth – and it troubles me that young people are in danger of falling into denial of the human condition. But it’s a writer’s duty to speak the truth, don’t you think? And by doing so, remain as human as possible.

 “Oh, Harold,” she sighed, stroking his hair. “You are so young. What have they taught you?” She brushed away the tears that fell down her cheeks. “Yes. I cry. I cry for you. I cry for this. I cry at beauty – a sunset or a seagull. I cry when a man tortures his brother…when he repents and begs for forgiveness…when forgiveness is refused…and when it is granted. One laughs. One cries. Two uniquely human traits. And the main thing in life, my dear Harold, is not to be afraid to be human.”

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments »

Teens Read Too

February 20th, 2010

Tomorrow, Feb. 21, 2010, I hope you’ll visit a web site called Teens Read Too, where I’m the guest blogger of the day. In addition to my typically profound post, you have the chance to peer even deeper into my brain as I try to answer a daunting list of questions posed by the site’s moderator.  It’s been fun!  And I’m going pursue one or more of the questions — such as ‘why are teens so compelled by the paranormal?’ — in future blogs.

If you happen to be reading this after Feb 21, 2010, you can still click on Teens Read Too and find my guest blog by scrolling down to Feb. 21.

We’ll talk later.

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

A Sad Story

February 17th, 2010

A colleague of mine relates a true story on his blog. Vince, a photographer, is walking his dogs down a rainy Vancouver lane when he notices snapshots spilling from a soggy cardboard carton. Turns out to be an entire photo album that’s been chucked out. Shocked and curious that someone would jettison their photo archive, Vince begins to examine this discarded life: a young girl growing up – her graduation, boyfriends, marriage, birth of a daughter, breastfeeding. Vince writes:

“These pictures were so personal and so private and so filled with love that it hurt to see them thrown out in the trash. These pictures were anything but garbage.”

Wait, there’s more. The baby grows into a beautiful young girl, goes to school, becomes pregnant – yes, the family cycle repeating itself. Now there’s a beaming soldier boy anticipating the birth as well, hospital shots, the new baby, everyone shining.

“And then the pictures of the boy in uniform, the handsome young man, were torn out of the album. And the beautiful girl with the new baby was pictured by herself and then the album stopped and I was looking at it in the rain.”

I feel Vince’s reticence – almost shame – at dwelling over this private tragedy. It wasn’t meant for his or anyone’s eyes, and I’m glad he didn’t photograph it. Yet, my mind’s eye still burns with images. How is that such a short story can move me almost to tears? Most full-length movies don’t touch me so deeply.

I guess because…this story is real. Truth is stranger than fiction. Or is it because the incident reveals with such pathos the fragility of human relationships? It’s such a shocking glimpse into human nature with all its vulnerability and imperfection. Is this our fate, too, waiting for us?

Then I thought…what if Vince invented this story? Would it make any difference? Would I feel any less disturbed, sorry, compassionate? Would you? Whatever else I was feeling, I would think the author was a brilliant storyteller.

This is what ‘story’ is all about – transporting us into the heart of another person. That this story accomplishes it so quickly and powerfully makes it – in my opinion – a great story.

I’m learning something from it every time I recall it. If you haven’t done so yet – check out Vince’s account for yourself.

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

A Gift Blog

February 11th, 2010

Sometimes a blog is a real gift — such as today’s dispatch from Seth Godin.  It’s about the power of gift giving. I’ve long had a respect for the act of giving and receiving gifts, so I thought it worth reviewing right here on ‘The Meaning of Life Blog’.

Godin points out that when a gift is ‘freely given and gladly received’, an imbalance is created. In the resolving of the imbalance, a chain reaction of goodwill is started. The chain creates all-important human connections. Godin suggests that a healthy community is one that’s infused with this kind of selflessness. The gift also has a selfish aspect to it, of course, since it feels so good to give.

Feeling good and selflessness would appear to be contradictory, but they’re not, are they? Whatever helps us to detach from an excessively self-centred worldview is going to feel liberating. We’ve all had altruistic experiences that prove this without a doubt.

Then, why does it feel so awkward to give freely and often?

In a materialistic society, letting go of things that we’ve worked hard to acquire seems, on the surface, absurd. Our identities are built around the things we’ve acquired – from iPhones to our powerful egos. Yet, who will deny that wellbeing is a by-product of releasing our grip, be it physical or psychic. It’s like a law of nature. Truly religious people have been trying to make this point since the dawn of time.

“Surrender, yield, renounce,” they say. We should try to be less of who we’ve been trained to think we are. Let go and fall upwards.

Give.

Tags:
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

What the Mockingbird Proves

February 9th, 2010

After all these years, I finally got around to reading “To Kill a Mockingbird”, by Harper Lee. The book’s unique characters held me in thrall. Who would have thought to invent a character who (without religion) is all light and goodness? He serves to contrast the general level of bigotry that’s typical of our so-called “religious” society.

Here’s the book’s theme: “I’d rather you shot at tin cans in the back yard,” says Atticus, the young protagonist’s father, “but I know you’ll go after birds. Shoot all the bluejays you want, if you can hit ‘em, but remember it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

The rationale for the mockingbird’s special status is explained by a neighbour: “They don’t do one thing but sing their heart out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

Atticus is the only lawyer in the small Alabama town who will defend a black man facing a rape charge. As the only moral person in sight, it’s pretty obvious that Atticus is the human mockingbird. His truth ‘sings’. On some deep level, the townspeople need him as a touchstone to maintain their basic humanity.

But the story is told from the point of view of Atticus’ young daughter, Scout. She’s on a journey to becoming a mockingbird, herself. But it’s a rough ride. As we all know, people on the leading edge of human evolution tend to get crucified. Atticus comes very close to getting strung up himself. This is the story of how one small island of sanity survives in a sea of ignorance.

Fine, but so what? (I’m glad I asked that.)

If you know this blog at all, you’re just waiting for me to introduce some deep thought, so here it is. A good story promises to prove a thesis. Many of the best stories show (often unwittingly) that the natural drift of our human potential is toward knowing, understanding, and compassion. It may be a slow journey; it’s definitely not easy; and it may be tragically nipped in the bud by a dark age…but it would appear to be our destiny, nevertheless.

Most conventional stories – because they climax with a hero’s ‘growth’ – are more or less in the service of this principle. The sooner we get a grip on the concept of life’s meaning being a state of consciousness – as opposed to some high falutin ‘purpose’ – the sooner we will quit squandering this valuable lifetime.

Now…I’m off to the library. What other books did I miss in high school?

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Love the Opposite

February 2nd, 2010

Imagine yourself a highly scrupulous person, who discovers that the truth lies in the opposite of what you’ve always believed. Well, how do you feel?

I’m writing a story about such a person, a comedian, who tries to kill himself. It’s not depressing at all, I promise you. It’s not even illogical – in fact it might be the most logical thing he’s ever done. It’s an act of love.

Here’s a person trying so hard to prove his love for his soul mate that he unwittingly discovers who he really is. Of course, this might describe the character development of the hero in a great many stories. When protagonists dig deep to get what they want, they often find themselves mining the dark side of their personalities. It’s a frightening journey, to say the least.

Eventually, my hero comes to his senses and gives up on the idea of corporeal martyrdom. But only because his point of view continues to expand. He has been so misguided throughout his life, that, at the end, he barely recognizes himself. I could have allowed him to keep digging through two more novels, if I hadn’t decided to put him out of his ecstasy in the final pages. (The story doesn’t end there, though.)

Now here’s something to consider – the theme of ‘truth being the opposite of what we believe’ emerged from my writing the story. I don’t even know if it’s true. I doubt that many good writers set out to make a philosophical point. They set out to tell a good story. And in my story, the protagonist realizes that in the passionate ignorance of his youth he developed principles to protect himself from pain. By realizing this later in life, he is able to right the ship, so to speak.

Another of his epiphanies is, ‘having a soul mate means finally having someone to die for’ (a la “Romeo and Juliet”).

I think that the human journey is remarkable for the possibilities that exist for us to discover who we really are. Fictional heroes are always showing us how it’s done.  You can believe them or not.

Happy reading!

Tags:
Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

Nothing but the Truth…

January 27th, 2010

Am I obsessing? Once again I’m talking about that moment late in a story when battle weary heroes are forced into a ‘die or wake up’ situation. The waking up is called an ‘epiphany’. People are never the same after that. The protagonist is now equipped with the knowledge and power to bring the story to its conclusion.

Previously (”Fight for the right to see”, Dec, 7, 2009), I described this climax in terms of climbing a mountain, from which heights the hero is presented with a more expansive view of their world. They see more; they’re wiser now; outmoded principles can fall away. The lesson would appear to be that discovering ‘truth’ is a product of struggle. Better yet, all-consuming struggle.

Otherwise there’s no story worth telling. (This is what I’m obsessing about.)

Imagine if, in the opening scene of a movie, someone accosted the protagonist in the street and told them the truth. Instructed them clearly and forcibly. That should be the end of the story, right? Wrong. We don’t expect the hero to take anything on faith. If that happened, we’d groan. We’d demand our money back. Instinctively, we know that’s not how life’s most profound lessons are learned.

Truth told to us, however sincerely, and taken on faith, isn’t satisfying at all. Let’s see how this thesis plays out in Avatar.

Sully, the film’s hero, is dropped (literally) into a situation (Planet Pandora) where we just know he’s going to have a change of heart. Once a Marine, Sully is going to soften up, fall in love, and challenge authority. We know that. Yet we stick around for another two hours of film time to experience vicariously the painfully human process of breaking down old habits so that a new understanding can take root. We know it’s going to happen, but still, this is where we get our money’s worth. In the living through hell. As they say, ‘it’s easier to die than change.’

Sully’s ultimate transformation is total. The conventional wisdom pounded into him by his military training is abandoned. Coming from a world where ‘knowledge is power’ (and where power is synonymous with gain at the expense of others), Sully learns a more profound type of ‘knowing’. Pandoran knowledge empowers the person to understand where they fit in the cosmic scheme of things, a perspective from which all good things flow.

So, what’s my point? That the power of a story to nourish us depends on a struggle to uncover the truth. And that truth is always some kind of ‘knowing’. And, finally, that ever-expanding knowing (not knowledge) would appear to be our noble destiny.

Tags: ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

Advantages of Adversity

January 19th, 2010

It’s almost a week now that I’ve been house-bound with a cold. There’s always an up-side to a downer, and so here’s my positive spin on my negative state of affairs. Stuck inside, I have more time to spend on my personal projects.

Even as a kid, I appreciated the ‘joy of being sick’. My passion was stamp collecting and building model houses out of balsa wood. I loved being sick! These days, it’s writing novels. This week, I’ve put the time to good use solving some story problems.

Consider the advantages of adversity, that’s the moral of this story (my blog story, I mean.)

For me, it’s been an advantage to be forced to sharpen my focus. Being ‘forced’ is key, because otherwise we humans have a powerful tendency to take the path of least resistance. Story characters are no different. If circumstances aren’t forcing the protagonist to fight for something, they won’t dig deep into their hidden selves. And whoever doesn’t dig, doesn’t discover who they really are.

As in life, so in art.

Consider this: the hero of a story doesn’t change through struggle. Rather, their character unfolds. It unfolds through adversity. (Same with you and me in real life.)

In the film Avatar (Best Picture, Golden Globe Awards!), Sully always had a greater understanding of human nature than was allowed him as a Marine. Through a heck of a lot of adversity, his higher nature began to show through.

But enough is enough! When am I going to get better?!

Tags:
Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

« Older Entries