On What Marks The Soul

The word character – as long time readers will remember – did not mean dramatis personae. The word comes from the Greek meaning an engraved mark. As in to draw a character on a piece of paper. Put some together and it becomes a word. The term also meant to mark on the body, or the soul. It was not until a few hundred years ago that the term became applicable to a person in a story. Hamlet was not a character – the meaning changed more recent than Shakespeare’s death.

A mark on the soul seems a particularly relevant definition.

A story happens to a character who undergoes change. Without change, you have an anecdote. The events of the story must have a marking on the soul.

A writer might start a story with the concept of the protagonist at the beginning or the end, but in either case the story demands that this marking of the soul be deeply explored. What change does the character undergo? What breaks inside them, and what grows? What is this actually about?

Part of the charm of the Benoit Blanc mysteries is that Rian Johnson knowingly writes the film without Blanc at the centre. The main character in each of the films is not the detective. Benoit Blanc does not undergo much of a change in the story. There might be some – he seems to spiritually soften a little in Wake Up, Dead Man – but the story is not his. The main character then, of course, is Father Jud. Just as in Knives Out the main character is Marta and in Glass Onion it’s Helen. And that is who the story belongs to. This gives Johnson the ability to explore other themes outside Blanc’s normal realm – like spirituality and faith – but still anchor the answer to the mystery in the world view of his detective.

Father Jud wants to contribute to a parish but is put out by the weird power structures around the church where he was assigned. He wants to bring an end to the type of preaching he doesn’t agree with, a fire and brimstone style of spirituality. In the strange mystery of his predecessor’s death, Jud travels a strange path, facing the unknown, and facing down the devil to eventually find himself in the position where he must be the Priest he aspired to be.

Blanc guides the young priest’s journey but the marks on his soul are not the story being told here. There is some change, a softening to his view on religion because he sees the power it can have for others, but the story is not his.

In Michael Lewis’ Moneyball, Billy Beane takes a chance on an alternative approach to baseball scouting. He is pushed up against the wall to see it work, faced with the end of his career if the experiment doesn’t work. He doesn’t get the result he wanted – to win the World Series – but he sees the culture around scouting change because of what he achieved. That’s a different kind of success that the Beane at the beginning of the story wouldn’t have cared for.

Lewis understands the conflict in Moneyball is not about baseball. It is within the character of Beane. The story is in how Beane failed as a young player because of the very culture he is taking on as a manager later in life. He wants answers to understand his failings, and his search for that rewrites the rules for baseball scouting.

Locating the story means locating the conflict and the change in the character. Sometimes this is in a character we didn’t intend as the centre. We have to redraft the story to focus on the character who changes the most. Or tell a different story.

If the story doesn’t ring true, ask: what is this actually about? And: who is this actually about?

This is taken from the Dispatch newsletter. Join the wire here.