Guardian: A Book Review and a Writing Exercise

Congratulations to Sheri Levy who won Dorothy Price's picture book, "Nana's Favorite Things."

In November I reviewed Mississippi Trial, 1955  and analyzed a scene using questions that Rebecca Petruck posed to me. In this post I'm sharing an excerpt from another award winning book about the Jim Crow period, Guardian by Julius Lester. This time I'm analyzing it using questions from James Scott Bell's book, Plot and Structure.

A short but immensely powerful book, Guardian portrays a lynching as seen from the viewpoint of several characters most intimately effected by the man's murder. Here are seven of these characters:

Ansel Anderson- a 14-year-old white boy living in a small town in the south in 1946.

Bert Anderson- Ansel's father who operates Anderson General Store and helped Big Willie get his job.

Maureen Anderson- Ansel's mother.

Little Willie Benton- Ansel's black fishing buddy who works with Ansel at the General Store. 

Big Willie Benton- WWII vet suffering from (undiagnosed PTSD), Little Willie's father. He does odd jobs at Mary Susan's father's church. 

Mary Susan Dennis- the girl Ansel likes.

Zach Davis- Ansel's antagonist and town bully. Great-Grandson of the man who founded the town of Davis, son of the man who owns the largest plantation in the town as well as the store where Ansel's father works and the church where Mary Susan's father is the preacher. 

Through these multitude of lenses, yet told from the narrator's present tense viewpoint, Mr. Lester has interwoven a story full of deep prejudice and misunderstanding. It is an unconventional style which works well for this topic. The reader intimately sees each character's motivations, fears, and beliefs and feels his or her emotions.

James Scott Bell writes: "A novel usually revolves around a few big scenes. These act like guideposts as the novelist moves from one to the other up through the climax." (p.127) The scene you are about to read happens three-quarters of the way into the book and is one of the big scenes in Guardian. Bert and Ansel have just left their store. 

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As father and son cross the street to the car, they see Big Willie hurrying out the front door of the church. He looks quickly to his right and left, and seeing Bert and Ansel, he runs to them. 

"Mistah Bert, suh! I'm glad it's you. Yes, suh!" Willie is a tall and rather ungainly young man. His face looks as if it absorbed every death he witnessed, those he was agent of and those he was not. He is wearing a khaki military shirt with a private's stripe on the sleeve. But the shirt is dirty and torn, as if he has not taken it off since his discharge. 

"Wasn't me, Mistah Bert. No, suh! I didn't have nothing to do with it, but I know I'm gon' get blamed for it. Something like this happen, nigger gets blamed every time. Yes, suh. Sho' do. But I ain't done it." 

"What are you talking about, Willie?" 

Willie points toward the church. "I seen him. I seen him just as sho' as I'm seeing you and Mistah Ansel. Yes, such. The young Mistah Zeph." 

Bert hurries to the church and goes inside. In the dim light at the front, he sees and does not want to believe what he sees. 

"Ansel! Go outside!" 

Instead of doing what his father tells him, Ansel says, "Papa? What's he doing?" 

Zeph Davis the Third turns at the sounds of the voices. In his right hand is a knife. It is slick with blood. On the floor in front of the alter lies a body, the skirt raised to reveal her nakedness. 

Ansel does not wait for an answer from his father, who is still trying to understand what he is seeing. Ansel screams, "Mary Susan! Mary Susan!" and runs to the front of the church. He stops and stares at her nakedness. Then, realizing what he is doing, he pulls down the skirt to cover her. 

In doing so, he sees a ripped blouse and severed bra. The exposed breasts are red and slick with blood.  

He wants to stare, but feels that he shouldn't, that Mary Susan would not want him to. 

He takes the blood-soaked blouse and pulls both sides over her bared breasts, careful not to touch them. 

Zeph looks rapidly from Ansel to Bert, back and forth, back and forth, breathing heavily, not knowing what to do, what to say. 

Then he sees Big Willie in the shadows at the back of the church.

"He did it!" Zeph hours, pointing at Big Willie. "He did it!" 

"Mistah Bert? Suh, look at me. Ain't no blood nowhere on me. Look at him. He covered with blood, her blood." 

"You know niggers, Bert!" Zeph breaks in. "They do all kinds of stuff with roots. That nigger probably got a mojo that can take blood off his hands." 

"I seen him, Mistah Bert. I seen him. I was up in the balcony. I likes to sit up there when no one's around. It's real peaceful. 

"That's where I was when the preacher's girl, Miz Mary, come in. I wanted to leave right then 'cause I knowed it wouldn't look good if I was alone in the same place with a white woman. But wasn't no way I could get out without her hearing. Seeing' me, she might get the wrong idea and start screaming. So I just stayed still. 

"She went to the altar and knelt down to pray. I wondered what could be weighing so heaving on the heart of someone as young as she was. If she'd been a nigger gal, I could understand. Us niggers need all the prayer we can get. Yes, suh. 

"Miz Mary hadn't been there long when I heard the door of the church open and he come in. I thought maybe the two of them had decided to meet up together at the church, but when she turned around to see who it was had come in and seen it was him she say, 'What do you want? You get on outta here and leave me alone. I'm praying.' 

"He don't pay no mind to what she say. He go up to her and grab her try to kiss her. She push him away. She say, 'Get away from me or I'll kick you so hard you won't be able to move for a month.' 

"That's when he whipped out his knife and before she could do anything, he was on her, stabbing her over and over. Then I seen him raise up her skirt, and I didn't want to see no more. Mistah Zeph was so caught up in what he was doing that he didn't see me, and I hurried out and that's when I seen you and your boy. That's the God's truth, Mistah Bert. You believe me, don't you? You'll tell the white folks it wasn't me. Won't you Mistah Berth?" 

"Who you going to belive, Bert? A nigger or a white man?" 

Zeph notices that Bert is hesitating, that Bert is thinking about what the right thing to do is, and Zeph drops the knife on the floor next to Mary Susan's body, runs up the aisle and out of the church. 

"Rape! Rape! Pastor's daughter been raped by a nigger!" Zeph is running and yelling at the same time. Over and over he shouts and the only words that are clear are "rape" and "nigger." pp. 71-75.

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Mr. Bell asks:

Was this an action scene? No question. This scene demonstrates high intensity with "tremendous conflict, important emotions, sharp dialogue, and inner turmoil." (Bell, p.128)

Identify the places where you learn about the character's objective in the scene and the conflict:

• Big Willie's speech when he meets Ansel and Bert show how he wants his name cleared. That is repeated  at the close of the scene bookending his desperation. Conflict roars to life through Zeph's false accusation. 
• Entering the church, Ansel wants to see what has disturbed his father. His internal conflict in seeing Mary Susan is demonstrated in his actions.
• Zeph's anger at being rebuffed again (this is not the first time Mary Susan rejects him) leads to his objective: revenge. His conflict is visible in his brief hesitation after his sociopathic behavior. 
• Bert wants not to see what is plain before his eyes. Afterwards, he also hesitates, showing his internal conflict. 

How does the scene end?

Zeph leaves the church and "Over and over he shouts and the only words that are clear are 'rape' and 'nigger.' The reader knows that this certainly means disaster for Big Willie and sets up the scenes which, like soldiers falling in battle, will surely follow. 

Do you want to read on? 

I'm going to leave this question up to you. Even though you have a strong sense of what's going to happen next, are you pulled into the next scene? Why or why not?

Jim Bell writes, "...you need to end scenes with a prompt, something to make readers turn the page...Don't ever let your scenes fizzle out, ending on a boring note." (p. 124).

It seems to me, that Julius Lester has done just that. 
On next week's blog, Mr. Lester shares some personal insights into writing Guardian.

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For more information on making your scenes intense, download these handouts from Lorin Oberweger, founder of Free Expressions. 

Scene Response Sheet

High Temperature Plotting Sheet

Mississippi Trial, 1955: A Book Review and a Writing Exercise

I recently submitted the fourth draft of Half-Truths to Rebecca Petruck for her critique. In a future blog I'll clue you in on my marching orders for Draft #5, but today I'm sharing a specific part of her feedback about writing scenes. This is a longer blog than normal, so grab your favorite beverage and get ready to learn about a great book and about the writing craft. 

Craft-wise, writing scenes is your weakest element. That’s partly why I asked you to write the slow down scene. You might want to read Make a Scene by Jordan Rosenfeld. For exercises, I suggest choosing a few scenes from three novels and deeply analyze the arc—what did the MC want as she entered the scene? What did she get? How did the author show the external action? The internal action/reaction? How much dialogue is used relative to narrative text? How did the author set the scene? End it? 

Then, look at one of your own scenes, and critique it for the elements listed above. Does the scene have an arc? Is there room for the reader to experience what’s happening? Time for the reader to feel what’s happening? How might you deepen the scene? How might you create more tension? Raise the stakes? - Rebecca Petruck

The first novel I chose to study scene making was the award winning book, Mississippi Trial, 1955 by Chris Crowe. I anticipated learning more about Jim Crow. I gained that, and much more.

Crowe's debut novel (Penguin Putnam, 2002) is based on the true story of the kidnapping and murder of Emmett Till. Crowe created a believable white protagonist, Hiram Hillburn, whose life is irrevocably changed following Emmett's kidnapping and murder. 

As a young child, Hiram spent several years in Greenwood, Mississippi living with his paternal grandparents. He has fond memories of Grampa Hillburn and a town steeped in cotton and Southern traditions. Hiram doesn't understand the deep conflict between his father and grandfather and blames his father for the alienation between the two men.

At 16, Hiram returns to Greenwood after his grandfather suffers a stroke and meets Emmett who is in town visiting his uncle. Hiram reconnects with R.C. Rydell, a boyhood friend who drinks too much and bullies Negroes; and R.C.'s sister Naomi who he likes. R.C. convinces Hiram to go fishing together, and the two meet up with Emmett who is cooling off in the river. R.C. mercilessly bullies Emmett while Hiram stands by helplessly. Afterwards he feels ashamed of himself and later becomes convinced that R.C. was involved in Emmett's death. 

This scene follows Hiram reading a newspaper report of Emmett's death:

When I put the newspaper down, my hands were shaky and cold. Emmett was dead, murdered. The article said nothing about R.D. Rydell, but I figured the sheriff must still be looking of him. Was R.C. involved in the murder? I knew he was, and I hoped the police would find him--soon.    

And what about Naomi? If R.C. skipped town or ended up in jail, she'd be left alone with her dad. I didn't even want to think how much more miserable her life might become in that shack down along the Yazoo.    

Grampa interrupted my thoughts when he whistled softly after reading the article. "I can't believe they killed that boy." He rubbed his hand across his face and muttered to himself, "There's going to be hell to pay now." He still looked pale as he folded the paper on his lap, creased it carefully in half, and set it on the table next to his chair. "Hiram, those boys went too far, way too far. For his sake, I sure hope your friend [R.C.] wasn't involved in this mess. I never did think much of R.C. Rydell, but I never took him for a murderer."    

"R.C.'s not my friend, Grampa," I reminded him without looking at him. "I told you how he acted."  

 "Of course he's not your friend. A Hillburn usually has better sense than getting mixed up with people like these." Grampa rapped his knuckles on the folder newspaper. "People all over the United States are hearing about what's happened down here and wondering what kind of uncivilized brutes live in Mississippi. Those peckerwoods who did this are a shame to all of us in the Delta. No self-respecting Southern gentleman would lover himself to of this far."    

Grampa's reaction bothered me. He seemed more concerned bout the negative press than about what had happened to Emmett Till.    

He kept on complaining. "The radio said that colored boy's mama up in Chicago is blaming everyone in Mississippi for what's happened, said she said, 'The entire state of Mississippi is going to pay for this.' The woman's grief is understandable, Hiram, but she's go tho cause to blame all of us for what a couple redneck peckerwoods did in the middle of the night.  

 "Before we know it, the NAACP and all those bleeding-heart Northerners are going to use this as another excuses for integration. They're going to come down here and cry about how we treat our Negroes and how we've got to mix the races in our schools. That's what really makes me mad, son: Those ignorant boys have stirred up a hornet's next of trouble."    

"But what about Emmett?" I asked. "They killed him. Doesn't that make you mad?"    

"Of course those boys went too far. Whatever that colored boy deserved, he didn't deserve getting shot and tossed into the Tallahatchie, that's for sure."      

I wanted to yell at Grampa. A boy was murdered just for acting cocky! I wanted to say something, something mean and hard that would knock some sense into him, but I knew nothing I could say would change him, and I had a glimpse into why Dad and Grampa never got along. (p. 123-5)

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Here are Rebecca's questions:

What did the MC want as he entered the scene? 

Hiram wants comfort/justice over Emmett's death. 

What did he get? 

He got a "glimpse" into why his father and grandfather don't get along, and a new picture of his grandfather. 

How did the author show the external action? 

Reports the grandfather complaining, shows Hiram arguing.

The internal action/reaction? 

Hiram's observation that his grandfather was more concerned about negative press than justice is a huge "Aha!" moment. His appreciation for his father initiates a change in his attitude. 

How much dialogue is used relative to narrative text? 

Dialogue and internalization carried this scene; not much narration. 

How did the author set the scene?

"When I set the paper down." Opens the scene.

End it? 

With Hiram's new realizations. 

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I picked this scene because it was pivotal to Hiram's burgeoning questions of the culture he accepted as a child as well as his new understanding of the tensions between his father and grandfather. The reader sees Hiram's conclusions so that when there is a switch at the end, Crowe has paved the way for a surprise ending. 

Rebecca has told me before that I need to go deeper into my character's internal experiences (I guess I'm a slow learner!). But copying out a scene pushed me inside Hiram. I saw his grandfather and father in new ways and found a model for what I needed to work on in Half-Truths.

How about you? Have you ever deeply studied a scene from a novel? If not, I hope you'll try this exercise. If you have, what book did you study? I'd love to hear from you. 

And I hope you'll read Mississippi Trial, 1955. You won't regret it; and besides, you need to discover the surprise ending which wraps up this important book so well.

Learning Character Internalization

Congratulations to Lindsay Fouts, my new blog follower, who won James Scott Bell's book, Plot and Structure.

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As I begin the fourth major draft of Half-Truths, I need to attack some of my writing weaknesses. According to my writing coach Rebecca Petruck, I have to work on my "internal-life writing muscles." To do this, she assigned me this task:

Type several dialogue-free passages from books you would like to emulate. Type at least three pages to get the rhythm. Then, type at least five dialogue-free pages from Kate’s POV and then again from Lillie’s POV.... Think about the difference between rote description, and description that reveals something about the character. When you describe the external world around them, it has to be in order to reflect how they interpret it, what it means to them and how it feels.

I'm beginning this assignment by sharing a dialogue-free passage from the latest book I listened to, Dodger, by Terry Pratchett. An historical fantasy spin-off of Charles Dickens' character, the Artful Dodger, it is an entertaining and funny book--albeit at times irreverent. Here is a brief blurb from Pratchett's website for context: 

A storm. Rain-lashed city streets. A flash of lightning. A scruffy lad sees a girl leap desperately from a horse drawn carriage in a vain attempt to escape her captors. Can the lad stand by and let her be caught again? Of course not, because he's….Dodger….Dodger's encounter with the mad barber Sweeney Todd to his meetings with the great writer Charles Dickens and the calculating politician Benjamin Disreali, history and fantasy intertwine in a breathtaking account of adventure and mystery.

The following excerpt occurs after Dodger rescues the girl and "Charlie" Dickens and Henry Mayhew take them both to the Mayhew household. 

Twenty minutes later Dodger was sitting close to the fire in the kitchen of a house, not a grand house as such, but nevertheless much grander than most buildings he went into legally; there were much grander buildings that he had been into illegally, but he never spent very much time in them, often leaving with a  considerable amount of haste. Honestly, the number of dogs people had these days was a damn scandal, so it was, and they would set them on a body without warning, so he had always been speedy. But here, oh yes, there was meat and potatoes, carrots too, but not, alas, any beer. In the kitchen he had been given a glass of warm milk that was nearly fresh. Mrs. Quickly the cook was watching him like a hawk and half already locked away the cutlery, but apart from that it seemed to be a pretty decent crib, although there had been a certain amount of what you might call words from the missus of Mister Henry to her husband on the subject of bringing home waifs and strays at this time of night. It seemed to Dodger, who paid a great deal of forensic attention to all he could see and hear, that this was by no means the first time that she had cause for complaint; she sounded like someone trying to hard to conceal that they were really fed up and trying to put a brave face on it. But nevertheless, Dodger had certainly had his meal (and that was the important thing), the wife and a maid had bustled off with the girl, and now…someone was coming down the stairs to the kitchen. 

It was Charlie, and Charlie bothered Dodger. Henry seemed like one of them do-gooders who felt guilty about having money and food when other people did not; Dodger knew the type. He, personally was not bothered about having money when other people didn't, but when you lived a life like his, Dodger found that being generous when in funds, and being a cheerful giver, was a definite insurance. You needed friends--friends were the kind of people who would say: "Dodger? Never heard of 'I'm, ever clapped eyes on 'im, guv'nor! You must be thinking of some other cove"--because you had to live as best you could in the city and you had to be sharp and wary and on your toes every moment of the day if you wanted to stay alive. 

He stayed alive because he was the Dodger, smart and fast. He knew everybody and everybody knew him. He had never, ever, been before the beak, he could outrun the fastest Bow Street runner, and now that they had all been found out and replaced, he could outrun every peeler as well. They couldn't arrest you unless they put a hand on you, and nobody ever managed to touch Dodger.  

No, Henry was no problem, but Charlie--now, oh yes Charlie--he looked the type who would look at a body and see right inside of you, Charlie, Dodger considered, might well be a dangerous cove, a gentleman who knew the ins and outs of the world and could see through flannel and soft words to what you were thinking, which was dangerous indeed. Here he was now, the man himself, coming downstairs escorted by the jingling of coins. (pp. 6-7)

Rebecca encouraged me to figure out where my characters are coming from. In this excerpt, narrated by the omniscient narrator, but in Dodgers' close POV, I learn that Dodger is coming from a place where:

1. He doesn't always get a whole meal.
2. He's prone to illegal activity that is Dodger's normal; a fact of his life. 
3. He is street smart and has friends on the street who cover for him (and the reader assumes, he does the same for them).
4. He looks suspicious to the cook who has to "hide the cutlery".
5. He is very observant. Notices the cook's mistrust, perfectly assesses Mr. Mayhew's character, communicates his own distrust of Charlie Dickens and why. 
6. He's "bothered" by people who can read him, as well he can read others.
7. He's proud of his abilities to outsmart the police. 

In other words, Dodger sees the world of London through a lens of "I have less money than the rich, but that doesn't bother me, because by my wits and speed, I get what I need." The reader meets a character who feels confidant about himself and moves with ease--unless he is up against another person who is equally good at reading people and their motivations as he is.

Pratchett has portrayed a character who I want to find out more about and who I want to root for-- as he goes from being a tosher (one who scavenges London's sewers) to a…wait, I don't want to spoil this book for you!

This week I'll be attending the Table Rock Writer's retreat where I'll be studying with John Bemis and Dawn Shamp. I'm hoping to strengthen my "internal-life muscles." 

So, watch out Kate and Lillie! You're about to grow deeper, inner lives.