from Fifty Great Short Stories
I don’t know much about Henry James, though I have struggled through more of his short stories than I have novels. I’ve never formally studied his writing, so don’t know what the prevailing literary criticism theories are…but I can tell you this: I dislike his characters and I dislike his outlook and I always end up, as I did at the end of this story, wanting to punch at least one of the characters in the nose.
Which is, I suppose a kind of a compliment to the writer.
Brooksmith by Henry James
As much as I say I don’t ‘like’ Henry James’s stories, I do recognise the work of a master craftsman. (I wonder if I would have liked him any better if he had been writing today [1. Probably not.])
The first thing I admired about this story was the way he pulled me in right from the first sentence. You might not think of the slow-paced Henry James novels as belonging on the same shelf as Ian Fleming or James Patterson, but there is, nonetheless, plenty of suspense to keep the reader hooked:
We are scattered now, the friends of the late Mr. Oliver Offord, but whenever we chance to meet I think we are conscious of a certain esoteric respect for each other.
Who was the late Mr. Oliver Offord and why do his friends only ‘chance to meet’ and share a ‘certain esoteric respect’ – and what does that really mean?
James continues to ratchet up the suspense in the very next sentence,
“Yes, you too have been in Arcadia,” we seem not too grumpily to allow.
Why was it “Arcadia” (and why would they ordinarily be grumpy with each other)?
The story turns out not to be about Mr Offord at all, but about his butler, Brooksmith and the perils of allowing the servant class to rise above their station.
I’m not sure which side Henry James would really have taken on the issue of class and station, but his narrator has a very fixed, extremely anti-egalitarian viewpoint that makes him supremely unsympathetic to the modern reader.
He is, however, so unrelentingly shaped by his societal norms that he is absolutely believable and ‘true’ – and loathsome, I might add.
It really struck me — after putting down this book with a sneer on my face and a punchy urge in my fist — that my writing could benefit from a bit more loathesomeness. I’m really a very nice person, trained in life to be fair and tolerant and to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But being well-brought-up can create a tendency to be too nice to my characters, too forgiving.
If I want to create characters as ‘true’ and real as Brooksmith‘s unworthy narrator, I have to risk creating characters that someone 111 years from now might want to punch.
What do you do to make your characters ‘real’? Please do leave a comment!
Sorry, but in today’s era, I find a lot of people so focused on pointing out inequalities in works, that they miss the underlying value of them. They judge older works based on today’s culture. I found this to be especially true in a recent criticism of the original Star Trek series. It was incredibly revolutionary for its time! It made bold statements against racism and class systems, and hit home during the Civil Rights movement. But… not enough for the author who judged it against today’s norms. He totally missed how transformational the series was, and how influential it was in promoting equality.
If “lack of equality” is your primary focus regarding Brooksmith, then you are missing one of the greatest themes it masterfully depicts: The value and enjoyment of deep, meaningful conversation. An art that seems to be disappearing in today’s ADD / texting / screen-focused generation. True, in-depth conversation is what I value most in any relationship. I can tolerate the need to discuss “the practical and commonplace”, but I find far too many people who constantly spew a stream of what they have to get done, how someone slighted them, who said what to who, what politician is lying now (duh!), etc. Life, history, and the universe we live in is saturated with a million other interesting topics! James addresses this directly as the host of the salon is in decline, and states, “The worst of it is that now we shall talk about my health…” – another sometimes necessary, but overused topic.
And despite the butler’s “lower station” in that society (extremely common at the time), James makes it clear that the butler is instrumental in enhancing the sophisticated interaction that takes place in the salon! And he specifically points out that Brooksmith is both interested in it, and benefits from it.
In addition, James elucidates the character of the narrator, as well as the other participants of the salon. Rather than dismissing the butler, as might have been the norm for that time, they genuinely value him as a person. He contrasts this “egalitarian” attitude to the next set of employers who Brooksmith works for – egotistical and clearly anti-egalitarian.
Lastly, there is the poignant depiction of what so many face towards the end of their careers and life. The decline of health and usefulness. And again, the heart of the narrator is clearly shown as he continues to pursue a relationship with the butler, which I would imagine was a radical concept for that time!
Well, sorry you missed it.
15 years after I wrote this review I do wonder what I would make of the story if I read it again today, with your comments in mind.
I might still find the narrator loathsome, but perhaps I would see the context better and cut him some slack š
(Iām always the person at Christmastime begging people to listen to āBaby, Itās Cold Outsideā with some awareness of its original context, so I suspect you and I would get along!)
I love loathsome characters.
While there is something to be said about loving a character and giving them traits to deserve those feelings from you and everyone who reads them, there’s something so satisfying in the opposite as well.
My view on making characters real is simply to look at real flaws. The reality of a person is that they can’t possibly know everything. If everyone knew everything and took absolute truth to heart without subjecting it to their own personal preferences, we would all be, practically the same person.
Giving characters special flaws, personal spins, foolish ideas, stubborn withholdings and all the other shortcomings you’d normally try to weed out of yourself is more important to me than fleshing out backstory and family history and wardrobe and hobbies and anything else an old character sheet might have in store for you.