Taking Liberties

I love it when I read something that makes me think – about my own prejudices or opinions, or about the ways the world works. And fiction can open up many emotions and issues more easily than its more cerebral counterparts.

Perhaps this is why I like books (and films) that deal with difficult topics – slavery, war, crime etc. But you don’t need to delve into the bleakest parts of humanity to explore human nature. Two of my recent FF pieces appear to have sparked discussion on the everyday but critical issue of the battle of the sexes.

Sangria was about a middle-aged couple on holiday in Spain. Don thought he’d hit the spot for romance: Julie had wanted to drink Sangria on the Main and here they were doing just that. Julie could only feel disappointment: after years of hinting and waiting to be surprised, she’d had to tell him of her dream, and now they were there, he was more interested in the yachts.

Liberties is about younger characters. Belle is walking through the corridors of her new school with her friend Alice, when some lads make a crude remark about her. Alice is outraged, Belle takes it in her stride and even professes to be flattered.

In both cases, I was interested by the strong feelings I got in response. Many readers condemned Don, but I was pleased at how many also criticised Julie. After all, Don’s trying his best even if he does fall short, and too many women demand mind reading from their partners (I sometimes count myself in their number, I’m afraid.).

The response to Liberties was even more divided. Some saw Belle as a hussy or at best naïve, others saw Alice as jealous or too easily offended. Personally, I am on Belle’s side – I saw her as a confident young woman who isn’t afraid of her appearance or of the effect it has on the boys, but nor is she desperate for their attentions and approval. To me, Belle has discovered at 18 the lesson that you can’t change other people, only how you react to them. If she had been upset and offended by the remarks, it would have ruined her day not the boys’.

A friend of a friend has started the “Everyday Sexist Project”. I think it’s a good idea in many ways, and I am shocked by how much sexism pervades even in modern society. However, I do think some people get overwrought about innocent things – and I count wolf whistles and catcalls in that category. This isn’t a “boys will be boys” argument … if I’d had space, I’d have shown Alice subsequently making a similar casual remark about a band member she likes. I just think people will always make these comments and, like Belle, I value the freedom to do so.

But going back to fiction, I like it when something I read makes me think and question my views on something, but I LOVE it when something I’ve written has that effect on others, and opens up a dialogue between us. Because one of the magical things about fiction is it can be interpreted in many ways.  My précises of the stories about are what I intended, but there’s nothing in the pieces themselves that makes other people’s interpretations invalid. Perhaps, like a Rorschach ink blot test, our reading tells us something about ourselves … perhaps it doesn’t.

 

Friday Fiction – Mirror

This week’s picture comes from David Stewart via Rochelle and the Fictioneers. I’ve included some previous drafts, although as ever if you just want to read the story itself, that’s cool too.

Mirror (Genre: Modern Fable)

The artist called the sculpture Mirror. The critics were perplexed. Some described “A man, reaching toward his destiny, held back by his personal demons”, others talked of “One man, dragging another out of the gutter”.  “If it’s a mirror, it belongs in the fair. The man is elongated and distorted,” said one, refusing to be drawn on meaning.

Years later, the sculptor finally broke his silence. “In itself, it means nothing. A mirror doesn’t change,” he said. “But show that mirror to a thousand men, they will all see something different … and they will all see something of themselves.”

 

V1

The artist called the sculpture Mirror. Critics were divided: many questioned the choice of name. “If it’s a mirror, it belongs in the fair,” said one, picking up on the strange perspective of the piece.

Describing it, some talked of “A man, reaching toward his destiny, held back by his inner daemons”, others of “One man, dragging another out of the gutter”. “The Chinese figure is depicted standing on one leg, the other elongated and buried in the sand behind him,” said The Times, refusing to be drawn on meaning.

Years later, retired and fading, the artist finally broke his silence about the sculpture. “In itself, it means nothing. A mirror doesn’t change,” he said. “And yet, show that mirror to a thousand men, and they will all see something different … and they will all see something of themselves.”

[The hardest thing about this piece, once I’d come up with the idea, was the order of it. Because it doesn’t really have a beginning, middle and end, I wasn’t sure what to put where. So many of the changes are to the order. I’m still not sure it’s entirely right. Interestingly, this is also a problem i’m having with my novel editing, although for slightly different reasons.

The other problem was length, this is 140 words, and didn’t feel as though it included much fluff.]

 

V2

Critics were divided. Some described “A man, reaching toward his destiny, held back by his personal demons”, others “One man, dragging another out of the gutter”.

The artist called the sculpture Mirror. “If it’s a mirror, it belongs in the fair. The man is elongated and distorted.” said the art critic for The Times, refusing to be drawn on meaning.

Years later, the sculptor finally broke his silence. “In itself, it means nothing. A mirror doesn’t change,” he said. “And yet, show that mirror to a thousand men, they will all see something different … and they will all see something of themselves.”

[Almost on point for length, this still didn’t feel quite right for order. And the emphasis seemed to be in the wrong places. Hopefully, the final version feels more balanced.]

Friday Fiction – Choices

After 50 posts to the Friday Fictioneers, I did wonder if I should find a new writing challenge, move on. But I’ve come to enjoy my weekly forays into the FF world, I value the friendships and feedback of the group and I enjoy reading the stories – so why mess with a winning formula? Besides, Sebastian is providing me with plenty of new challenges right now, so an old challenge makes a welcome change!

Life is settling into a new kind of normal with my little boy up front and centre in the new world order, but I’m hoping he allows me to continue the writing commitments I’ve enjoyed so much over the last few years. Right now, my muse seems to be suffering a bit under the weight of insufficient sleep and lots of distractions, so please be gentle with this week’s piece, but as ever I welcome your feedback, good and bad.

Here’s the photo, courtesy of Joyce Johnson. You can see the other responses linked from Rochelle’s page.

Choices

It wasn’t at all like she’d expected. There was no bright light, no beckoning figures; just two doors and apparently a free decision which to enter.

Each door was marked with a bronze face. One was serene and placid: its features unmarked by emotion. The other was twisted into a laugh or a grimace; she couldn’t tell which.  Either way, it was ugly. The other was more … angelic.

But her eyes kept coming back to the twisted visage. Even if it was a grimace, was that really worse than a world without emotion?

She paused, then pushed the door.