It’s been said that writing a story is the art of trying to put into words that which cannot be put into words. This thing which cannot be put into words is often summed up with the pat phrase, “the human condition,” and capturing this condition is the artist’s constant labor. The big, foggy idea of the experience of humanness, in turn, comprises a number of slippery notions such as mortality, love, confusion, joy and, well, a lot of things that are hard to put into words. In fact, the words I just listed don’t mean a whole lot. Words like “love” and “mortality” feel especially worn thin: flimsy. They don’t hold.
So what is it that takes hold of us when we read a compelling story? What makes a story live? Is it the theme of the story? One way of identifying a story's theme is to look for a pattern of bright images throughout the story, pictures that keep cropping up or changing as the climax mounts. These images work their way into our subconscious and we translate the story using the lexicon of our own life experiences to give meaning to the imagery.
Of course, the theme of a story would not impact us as soundly if we did not get wrapped up in the events of the story itself, and the characters that populate it, so these elements must excite our imagination and sympathy. Also, the way a writer chooses to tell a story may be more effective in some cases than in others, either engaging our senses in the story’s world…or not. Ideally: The poetry of the story’s language plays like sunlight over the waters of our senses, illuminating surprising depths.
Honestly, it’s hard to isolate the various aspects of craft that turn a story from a mere collection of words into a work of art. The easy answer would be to say that all of those things I mentioned above (and more) are necessary if a story is to bash us over the head and grab us by the heart—in a good way, of course. Yet, there is no denying that some stories have a more lasting impression than others, and some stories speak to us more loudly than others. If you are following Story Euphoria, chances are, right now you are carrying around inside you precious stories that have shaped your life and the way you see the world.
We are treading murky waters now. We have entered the realms of dream and myth. There are no concise answers, no literary terminology that explains this mystery. Yet this mystery is perhaps the greatest power that can define a “good story”—that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts—and to impart such a power is no doubt the ultimate ambition of all who create stories.
In one way or another, this mystery is at the heart of all we explore at Story Euphoria. What makes a story come alive for you? What are some of your favorite stories, and how do they express “that which cannot be put into words?” Fortunately, we live in a world brimming with powerful stories, and one such I share with you today. Katherine Mansfield’s The Daughters of the Late Colonel is a tale that sneaks up on you and strikes when you least expect it—delightful, funny, compelling and surprisingly vast for a story told from such limited perspective: Through Josephine and Constantia, Mansfield speaks to us all, placing her finger on that awkward little something inside us so commonly called “the human condition.”
If you want more Mansfield, read from the text I used at Project Gutenberg, or fetch a collection of her stories for yourself from your local library. You can also buy a copy you’ll be sure to return to time and again over the years:
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