Tag Archives: David Copperfield

Lessons From Literary Dads

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there! Don’t forget to tell a #DadJoke today.

What happened when two slices of bread went on a date? It was loaf at first sight.

Thank you! Tip your server on the way out.

Which brings me to four literary dads and what we can learn from them.

Atticus Finch

At the top of the list is, of course, Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird. A widower, Atticus is faced with the prospect of raising two young children without a mother. His daughter, Scout, presents a particular problem. She has budding prejudices as the result of her social environment, the deep South of the 1930s. She also likes to solve her disputes with boys by beating them up.

His greatest challenge is the heart of the book. It’s when he is asked by a local judge to undertake the defense of Tom Robinson, a black man accused of raping a white girl. Atticus takes the case, knowing he is going to lose. So why does he do it? He tries to explain it to Scout:

“Scout,” said Atticus, “when summer comes you’ll have to keep your head about far worse things…it’s not fair for you and Jem, I know that, but sometimes we have to make the best of things, and the way we conduct ourselves when the chips are down – well, all I can say is, when you and Jem are grown, maybe you’ll look back on this with some compassion and some feeling that I didn’t let you down. This case, Tom Robinson’s case, is something that goes to the essence of a man’s conscience – Scout, I couldn’t go to church and worship God if I didn’t try to help that man.”

Lesson: Live by the higher ideals, even if they fail in some circumstances, or any hope for civilization crumbles.

Daniel Peggotty

In David Copperfield, Daniel Peggotty offers a crucial counterpoint to David’s cold-hearted stepfather, Mr. Murdstone, as well as the odious and oily Uriah Heep (one of the best character names ever). Daniel’s love and loyalty to his family is the epitome of paternal virtue. He is the brother of David’s beloved nurse, Clara Peggotty, and happily welcomes young David into his home, treating him as he would a family member.

In particular, his devotion to his niece, Little Em’ly, results in a sacrificial quest to save her after she runs away with James Steerforth. He declares, “I’m a going to seek her, fur and wide. If any hurt should come to me, remember that the last words I left for her was, ‘My unchanged love is with my darling child, and I forgive her!’”

Lesson: A father protects his family, no matter the cost.

Vito Corleone

Wait, what? Don Vito Corleone in The Godfather? He’s the opposite of Atticus Finch, operating on the wrong side of the law. He has murdered and ordered murders. Now as he ages, he knows the future of his family is in the hands of his youngest son, Michael. Here he is, warning Michael of an impending attempt on his life…and sharing his sadness at Michael’s fate.

So why do we care at all about Vito Corleone? He’s the head of a crime family, for crying out loud. I think there’s a literary secret here. You can pull for a character who is not entirely good if, within the story context, he is “better” than the other bad people around him. In the case of The Godfather, Vito has refused to partner with another Mafia family in the drug trade. This leads to his attempted assassination. Thus, Michael’s revenge is understandable within that story world.

Lesson: You can love your children, but crime still doesn’t pay.

King Lear

Boy, what a bad dad. Which shows us we can learn from the negative (the raison d’etre of tragedy).

Lear is the opposite of Daniel Peggotty. Instead of familial loyalty to all three of his daughters, he rewards vain flattery and punishes the one daughter who expresses love, Cordelia. It isn’t long before the other daughters, Goneril and Regan, conspire to strip him of his power. He’s left a wandering lunatic, and runs for Congress. (I may be misinterpreting that last point.)

Lesson: Pride goeth before a fall. So, despite what TikTok says, life is not all about you.

In the immortal words of Graham Nash, we must “have a code that you can live by/And so, become yourself.” Nash wrote movingly about the inspiration for this song:

The origin of the song came from my recent infatuation with art. I had begun collecting photographs around that time, powerful images that had an emotional effect on me. One, in particular, was a Diane Arbus image of a boy in Central Park. It spoke volumes to me. The kid was only about nine or ten years old, but his expression bristled with intense anger. He had a plastic grenade clenched in a fist, but it seemed to me that if it were real the kid would have thrown it. The consequences it implied startled me. I thought, “If we don’t start teaching our kids a better way of dealing with each other, humanity will never succeed.”

Enjoy your day, dads. You matter.

Major in Minors

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

W. C. Fields as Wilkins Micawber; Freddy Bartholomew as David in MGM’s David Copperfield (1935)

When it comes to minor characters, what you don’t want is the bland leading the bland. That’s why I call minor characters “spice.” Just the right amount can turn an average reading experience into a tasty delight. It’s the difference between plain yogurt and Rocky Road, or chicken broth and mulligatawny.

Minor characters, as I use the term, are to be distinguished from Main and Secondary characters.

Main characters are Rick, Ilsa, Laszlo, Louis in Casablanca. They have the most to do with the plot.

Secondary are recurring characters who have some importance to the plot, like Major Strasser and Sam the piano man.

Minor characters are those who appear for various reasons to complicate or relieve matters (comic relief is a great tool in thrillers and suspense). In Casablanca there are a number of these, from Ugarte (Peter Lorre) to the desperate Bulgarian wife (Joy Page) to Carl the waiter (S. Z. “Cuddles” Sakall).

A subset of minor characters are those who appear once, necessary to a scene. Taxi drivers, doormen, barbers, and the like.

Consider now the uses of minor characters.

Essential Plot Information

There are any number of times when a main character needs some inside information. The cliché is the shoeshine guy who knows what’s happening on the street.

My favorite send-up of this trope is from the old TV show Police Squad, starring Leslie Nielsen as the cop. He gets into the shoeshine chair and slips Johnny a bill to tell him what’s what. The hilarious part is that while Johnny knows everything going on crime-wise, he also knows everything about everything. So when a priest sits down and asks, “What do you know about life after death?” Johnny answers, “I wouldn’t know anything about it.” The priest slips him a bill. Johnny says, “You talking existential being or anthropomorphic deity?”

It is Ugarte in Casablanca who delivers the MacGuffin to Rick—the letters of transit.

Deepening Main Characters

How a main character interacts with a minor character can reveal a great deal.

Here’s some advice from James “The Love Doctor” Bell. If you plan to get married, observe how your intended treats the server in a restaurant, or the checkout person at the grocery store.

What I call the “Pet the Dog” beat can be used for this. Think of Dr. Richard Kimble in The Fugitive (see my post here). He takes a risk to help a dying boy in the hospital, even though it leads to more trouble.

Or Rick, who helps the husband of the Bulgarian wife get the money they need to buy papers, instead of her having to sleep with Louis to get them. Louis observes this and makes note of it. More trouble for Rick.

Setting Richness

A minor character can lend color to an unfamiliar setting. This is a good addition to description. Seeing and hearing characters in their element adds to the tone and feel of a scene.

In the Harrison Ford movie Witness, John Book (Ford) is a cop who has to hide out among the Amish to avoid assassination and protect the Amish boy who can identify a murdering cop (played by Danny Glover). His interactions with various characters and their ways are evocative:

Scene Tension

Here’s an underused tip: put two minor characters in opposition in a scene as the main character is trying to advance the plot. In Long Lost I have two elderly women who volunteer at the reception desk of a local hospital. As my main character attempts to gain access, the two of them, dubbed Curls and Red by the main, snipe at each other, adding a further obstacle. I got this idea from my great aunts, one a widow and the other a divorcee, who lived together. When I’d visit, they’d put out the See’s candy and give each other little verbal jabs as they recalled family stories.

Plot Juice

Raymond Chandler famously said that if things get slow, just bring in a guy with a gun. Of course, it doesn’t have to be a guy or a gun, but a minor character with something of importance.

Hammett does this in The Maltese Falcon. Spade has had no luck finding the black bird. Then one night a man riddled with bullets stumbles into his office, hands him a bundle, and dies. Turns out the stiff is the captain of a ship and the bundle is, you guessed it, the falcon.

Wrapping Up a Mystery

Sometimes you get to the end of a book and there are plot threads that need to be accounted for (you pantsers know what I’m talking about!). Now what?

Well, a minor character can show up with the essential information. You can create such a character on the spot. But then you have to do something else—go back into the book and find a scene or two to plant this character. Otherwise, it will be a Deus ex machina.

I’ll leave you with a couple of tips for creating memorable minor characters.

Avoid stereotypes. They are usually the first picture to spring to mind because we’ve seen them so many times before. The bartender wiping a glass. The truck driver in boots and cowboy hat or baseball cap. Just take a moment to change things up. Maybe the bartender knits. Maybe the truck driver is a woman who likes dresses. You’re the writer, come up with something new.

Tags of manner and speech. Give each minor character one unique tag of manner and one of speech. Dickens was a master at this. Think of Uriah Heep, always rubbing his hands together and smarmily talking about how ’umble he is. Or Wilkins Micawber, who always uses twenty words when five would do. David describes him as—

a stoutish, middle-aged person, in a brown surtout and black tights and shoes, with no more hair upon his head (which was a large one, and very shining) than there is upon an egg, and with a very extensive face, which he turned full upon me. His clothes were shabby, but he had an imposing shirt-collar on. He carried a jaunty sort of a stick, with a large pair of rusty tassels to it; and a quizzing-glass hung outside his coat,—for ornament, I afterwards found, as he very seldom looked through it, and couldn’t see anything when he did.

That’s how you major in minors.

Who are some of you favorite fictional minor characters? How about in you own fiction?