Like most people, I have random and vague memories from being very small.
I remember being on an airplane at age two and being offered a Coke. I was amazed that my mother let me have one because I wasn’t allowed to have soft drinks usually (I got rambunctious after sugar or caffeine.)
I also have a very vague recollection of a little girl with several hundred Barbie dolls in an elegant hotel lobby. My grandmother and great-grandmother were there, which was unusual because they lived in another state.
I couldn’t put these snippets into any kind of mental catalog or file them away in the appropriate place, because I’d been small and picked out the pieces that seemed important to me.
When I asked my mother about these events years later, she was able to put them in context for me. But to her, the highlights of the experiences were definitely not Coca Cola and Barbie dolls. They were the flight’s destination at Sea Island, Georgia and the event we were attending at the elegant hotel. Neither of which I remembered a bit of, could describe, or even cared about.
This concept of individual observations interests me in fiction. In a mystery, it’s easy to use—different witnesses to the same event could perceive the event very differently, just because each has his own concept of what’s important. You’d get different viewpoints, colored by each person’s priorities and experiences. The sleuth tries to piece together the truth by merging the stories—and sometimes completely discounting a person’s observations as being incorrect (maybe because they’re lying about what they saw or did).
The idea is interesting in biographies. What is the truth about a person? How do we arrive at the truth? There could be twenty different biographies on Princess Diana and they might well all be different—depending on whether the information about her was given by a friend or from someone who she was at odds with in the palace. Most of us are mixes of good and bad—but if you’re writing a biography, what is your motive? What are you trying to portray—the truth? Whatever sells? Or your own romanticized idea of the person you’re writing about? I read bios with a lot of interest and a hefty amount of skepticism.
Nonfiction books on events like Vietnam? I can only imagine the range of opinions that could influence the writing of such a book. But then, if you stick only to the facts and don’t include interviews or opinions, then your book might be less interesting. I think you’d have to apply journalism principles and try to get all sides of a story…unless, again, your motives were to show only a particular side of the event.
It’s interesting in general fiction when someone finds that the truth about a person is different from what everyone has told them is the truth. Glenda of Oz directs Dorothy to a wizard she describes as great and powerful. Everyone in Oz shares the same perception of the wizard—one which isn’t accurate at all. Here you have inaccurate perceptions, deliberately given by someone who wanted the truth about himself (that he wasn’t a great wizard at all) to stay hidden.
You might have a character who ordinarily is extremely trustworthy; a person your protagonist frequently goes to for an opinion. But maybe this rock-solid individual isn’t a good person to talk to when it comes to a particular problem. Maybe their past experiences have warped them in some way to make their judgment unreliable.
We all have our own ideas on people and events, colored by our backgrounds and interests. I love seeing our differences played out in books. And working them into my own.
Perceptions are so key when getting into character, aren’t they? What a great thing to think about as I’m trying to begin planning my next novel. Thank you!
What an interesting post, Elizabeth! You’re absolutely right that perception is key when reading (and writing) mystery fiction. It’s not just a matter of piecing together the truth about a mystery from the witness’ perceptions, either; it’s also a matter of the sleuth realizing where his or her perceptions might be getting in the way of finding out the truth. Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse is a good example of a sleuth who’s able to stop himself and say, “Oh, *that’s* not how it really was! It only seemed that way to me…” Agatha Christie’s Poirot does the same thing. Thanks for making me think about this.
Nice post. (I wonder how others view it, tho.)
It’s fun to play around with different people’s viewpoints of the same event. Some excellent mysteries revolve around such situations.
I’m always amazed at reader feedback and reviews because each person sees something different in characters and in plot. Just like our fictional characters, each reader sees through the filter of his own life experience. This is one of the things that makes reading (and book clubs) and writing (and critique groups), so challenging.
This is actually my approach in my current manuscript. The mystery unfolds from the POV of six different characters; sometimes all were present, sometimes only one. I’m hoping it adds to the story as what each character notices is what is important to them.
And Helen; read “Wicked”. Everything becomes clear.
Elspeth
I’ve never thought about things in this light. What an awesome post. Another thing to consider while I am trying to develop my characters further!
Jody–Have fun with your new novel!
Margot–I *love* the huge library of detective fiction you have in your head! You’re absolutely right….Morse was wonderful at realizing he was looking at something from the wrong direction. And Poirot did the same–an aha! moment.
Marybeth–Hope it helps! :)
Interesting post. How true that our memories and perceptions are shaded by who we are. I know when my sister and I talk about events in our childhood, we remember totally different things – it’s as though we were raised apart!
This speaks to my interest in point of view. You’re so right, in fiction, the view point characters can tell a completely different story of the same event. I think there’s a lot of power in point of view that I’ve not previously considered. For my next work, I’m going to try to do some things differently and one is to really consider in advance, chapter to chapter, who the view point character could be and why. The object of that exercise is to find the most powerful, or revealing way to tell a particular event and make the overall work, more compelling…that’s the goal anyway.
Best Regards, Galen
Imagineering Fiction Blog
Great post, Elizabeth. You can have different POVs on the same event or aspect in a story and the reader has to work out who’s “right” and who’s “wrong.” And those terms are, of course, relevant to what the author wants to get across.
Did you ever think that Glenda was lying? I mean, she was a witch who could fly anywhere in her bubble machine. How could she not know the wizard was a fake?
Helen
Straight From Hel
An excellent post which reminds me of the very different things my sister and I remember about our childhood. Quite often I will talk about some childhood incident and ask her ´don´t you remember that?´ Somehow I am the one who remembers the weird and funny aspects of life.
Actually I am trying to write a novel together with a writing friend about two sisters who offer very different accounts of their childhoods. It may be a long-term project, but planning these different versions of life is a part of the writing process which really appeals to me.
Great post!
I found that my characters changed a bit as I moved through five books in the series. They appeared one way while the story focused on them, but a little different from the viewpoint of others. And it’s even more interesting when one’s seen a particular character in a negative light through the eyes of others, and suddenly seen from that person’s self view is so different!
I love that you are not only perceptive, but continue to ask questions after that! I really like this idea. I toy with different perspectivea, but haven’t actually played with the physical perceiving by different characters. Seems a rich area.
And on the history piece–a friend of mine once took a “History of History” class–the punchline was to ALWAYS look at the agenda of the people presenting it that way. It can be really eye-opening, especially when we then think of what history is NOT ever told because nobody has a powerful enough voice to get it out there. Now THOSE are some great stories.
Alan–I like those mysteries, too. Great technique.
Jane–My sister and I are the same way! But I’m 4 years older, so we usually trust my viewpoint. But should we?
Galen–That would be a cool way to figure out the strongest POV and make the story stronger. I hadn’t thought about that.
Helen–I’m not sure what was up with Glenda! I always wondered about that…and why Glenda couldn’t just tell Dorothy at the beginning how to get home. Something to do with learning a lesson, I guess…:)
Patricia–That’s so true. We all bring our own experiences to the book as a reader, too.
Elspeth–I think that would be really interesting to read…and very hard to write! I haven’t read “Wicked”–it sounds like all becomes clear there!
Diane–That would be really interesting! Almost like reading a book through the POV of Voldemort or something. :)
Hart–That would be an awesome class! I’d love to sit in on something like that.
This idea is something I’ve been playing with lately for my next WIP. I’d love to have a “Good Old Charlie Brown” character who isn’t all that good after all. Or someone, like Snape, hated by Harry Potter (who we all trust and love) but is actually not as bad as Harry thinks. Shake things up a little.
You put this so concisely! I am a middle child, my sister two years younger, my brother eight years older, and I’m always amazed at how different our memories are, colored by whatever age we were at the time and our own emotions.
Thanks for dropping by and reading my story and the nice comment, it meant a lot coming from you.
Dorte–That would be a really interesting book. I like the idea of continuing the different viewpoints through the entire book.
My sister and I usually remember very different things about our childhood. I’ve chalked it up to our age difference, but now I’m not so sure!
Elizabeth–I’m imagining it would be even *more* different with different gender viewpoints. My sister and I at least were looking at life through a similar lens…
And you’re so welcome. :) I enjoyed reading it.
Like Margot, as I was reading your post, I was thinking of Poirot. Always loved those wrap-up scenes! Even as a youngster, I smiled at how he would manipulate everyone into the same room. Then he would explain it all fromt their perspectives – Awesome stuff :)
I love this post, Elizabeth. Yes, perceptions are key to any story. To a kid, it is barbie dolls that are important, but to the mother it is something quite different.
Reminds me of “Instance of the Fingerpost” – the way the entire story unfolds from PoVs of different people, all of whom are honest observerers, but still see things differently.
Jemi–I love Christie! It was also cool how Poirot would look at something from the wrong angle and then get irritated with himself and realize he’d looked at it backward.
Rayna–I haven’t read that story…but I’ll put it on my list. Thanks!