The Hero Chooses the Wiser Alternative or the Better Person

THE MORAL or esthetic dilemma is a time-honored theme
in all literatures. The necessity of choosing between selfindulgence
and duty, between the easy expedient and
justice, between what is merely gilt and what is truly gold
has troubled heroes of all ages. Unless they are parodies
or burlesques, dilemma stories are usually didactic, uplifting,
and regenerating affairs. They exemplify and prove
the essential nobility of man. For this reason, they are
favorites with slick editors, who are always eager to say
nice things interestingly. As might be expected, though,
these editors have a way of taking this powerful fictional
theme and, for the sake of superficial originality, doing
some strange things with it. As an instance, consider this
piece.
A blind, old man knocks on the door of a house where a
party is in progress. When the host answers, the old man
explains that he is lost. He is invited in to rest and, since he
has an accordion with him, he is happily able to repay the
kindness by playing some tunes for the guests. Then he tells
his sad story. His neighbors in the nearby town where he lives
made a collection to buy him a seeing-eye dog. The dog turned
out to be a very intelligent and useful friend to the old man.
But there was a difficulty: the old man's one joy in life is
playing his accordion. And whenever he plays, the dog puts
up a deafening howl. Now the old man is faced with a
dilemma. He can't very well return the dog to the people of
the town because they would consider him an ingrate, and he
can't give up his playing, because life would lose its meaning
for him if he did. The people at the party are struck to the
heart by the old man's difficulty. When the time comes for the
old man to leave, the host offers to drive him home and slips
a revolver into his pocket on his way out. He explains his
plan to the old man. The host intends to shoot the dog, and
then run over the dog's body with his car so that the death
will look like an accident. The old man, of course, is deeply
troubled by this solution to his quandary, but sees in the
scheme, the only answer. At the last minute, just as the host
is about to shoot the dog, the old man changes his mind, and
decides that the dog is a better and more important friend to
him than his accordion.
If such a tale seems an outrage against probability, the
literal-minded reader can find compensation in such blunt
stories as this one.
One of three sons of an upper-middle-class, small-town
widow seduces a young waitress who is painfully lower class.
Distraught, despairing and pregnant the waitress goes to the
boy's mother with her problem. Initially, the mother is incredulous,
refuses to believe that her son would do such a
thing. But, listening to the girl, who seems honest enough,
she learns that the son, although he never explicitly promised
to marry the girl, had told her many times that he loved her.
The mother promises the girl that, after she hears her son's
version of the story, she will do all in her power to see justice
done. The son is angered and ashamed to find that his mother
has learned of the affair. The older brother who is currently
engaged to a highly respectable, upper-class girl in town is
outraged at the mother's suggestion that the boy marry the
waitress. The older brother feels such a solution would ruin
his chances to marry into an aristocratic family and would
seriously injure the business connections he has so laboriously
built up. The mother, though, who has given over her entire
adult life to bringing up her sons to be respected members of
the community and who consequently has most to lose by an
improper alliance insists that the boy treat the girl fairly and
marry her. The critical scene is set in front of the town church.
The mother has asked the girl to meet the family outside,
after services. There the mother introduces her to friends as
the fiancee of her youngest son. The son himself is happy to
have his dilemma solved since he really loves the girl.
It is interesting to notice that this story appeared not
in one of the more fashionable women's magazines, but
in a practical housewife's periodical. The solution offered
by the author of this story is much more likely to seem
valid to readers of the latter type magazine than to readers
of the former.
The more restricted the readership of a magazine socially
and economically, the more definite and unqualified the
answer to a hero's problem can be. Contrariwise, consider
this one:
A game warden is set the task of locating a poacher who
has been herding wild horses on state property. When he is
found, the game-law violater turns out to be a very nice young
man who loves nature. The game warden does not admit his
position or his business but tags along with the poacher in
order to gather evidence against him. The two strike up a
close friendship, and the game warden discovers that the
ultimate aim of the poacher is to breed horses from the magnificent
wild stock he has been herding on this public land.
The game warden is so attracted to the young man's ways and
ideas and so sympathetic to his project, that he finally decides
to let the poacher go ahead, and turns in a report saying that
he was unable to locate the culprit.
This story was printed in a magazine with a very broad
circulation. And the solution that the author offered to the
warden' s dilemma had to be strongly qualified. The
warden, after all, by letting the poacher continue his activities,
was neglecting his duty and contravening the law.
The qualifications or mitigating circumstances: (1) the
poacher was young, handsome, ambitious; (2) rather than
being an exploiter of nature like most poachers, he was
intent on improving nature by breeding a superior stock of
horses; (3) instead of harboring a callous disregard for
nature, the young man loved all its manifestations. Innocuous
as herding horses on public property may seem to the
casual reader, the fact is that the magazine which printed
the story reaches all sorts of people with all sorts of interests
and opinions. In consequence, these precautions became
necessary.
In most dilemma stories, the two or more alternatives
at the hero's disposal are made only too clear. And the
greatest pains are usually taken to outline the pros and
cons of each possibility. Occasionally, though, a story
appears in which the very fact that the hero is facing a
dilemma at all becomes apparent only at the story's close.
For instance:
A young prep-school student is told that at the next student
assembly he will be tapped for the school's most exclusive
honor society. For 5000 words, the reader hears, through the
thoughts of the hero, about the workings of the society. The
reader is gently persuaded that the society represents a contemptible
kind of arbitrary snobbery. But he is nonetheless
anxious for the hero to be accepted into the society, since
admission is an undeniable mark of distinction at the school
and since also the hero seems like such a sensible and likeable
boy.
At the assembly, three boys are tapped by a society member
and step forward. At last, the society president walks up to
our hero and lays a hand on his shoulder. A strange thing
happens. Suddenly the hero revolts against the clannishness
that the society fosters and refuses to step forward. At first,
there is only awed silence. In the entire history of the school,
this has never happened before. Then there is a patter of applause,
followed by a wild ovation from the mass of students
who are only too keenly appreciative of the falseness of
honor societies.
It was a wonderful trick. So much emphasis was put
on the question of whether the hero would actually be
tapped, that the reader forgot to consider the possibility
that the hero might refuse acceptance. When he did, the
reader realized that, unconsciously, the hero had been facing
a dilemma from the time he learned he was to be
chosen. The snobbish nature of the society had been
dramatically and amusingly detailed through the boy's
thoughts about it. But, if at any point the boy had consciously
considered not joining the organization, if the
dilemma had ever been clearly stated, the reader would
have been tipped off to the probable outcome, and the
story would have lost most of its punch.
In connection with the corollary theme of a hero choosing
the better or more suitable person, something of the
same trick is sometimes used.
A widower-father and his five sons hire a housekeeper. She
turns out to be a wonderful cook and generally a very appealing
person. Four of the boys throw themselves at her. The
fifth thinks she is after a soft berth, and spurns her. She, in
turn, focuses all her attention and flirtatiousness on this dissenting
son. When the young man is finally won over and
just about to propose marriage to her, the housekeeper announces
her engagement to the father.
Here is not a matter of there being no apparent choice
to be made. The surprise is accomplished by turning
the chooser to a completely unsuspected choice. Such
a dodge, if adequately written, always seems to fascinate
readers. Very important, though, is keeping the final choice
of the hero hidden until the close, and yet developing it in
such a way that it seems the wisest move the hero can make.
The choice of the right girl for the hero or the right
man for the heroine is common enough in the slicks, but
rarely does it fill the foreground of a story. Most often
it will be used as a subplot behind a tale of adventure
or business or what-not. The reason for relegating to the
background the choice of the right mate is a simple one.
Give a hero the right girl and the wrong girl, and the
reader is always quite certain which one the hero will
eventually choose. Few fictional tricks are original enough
to lead the reader away from the trail. Therefore, the
writer rarely can depend entirely on the problem of choosing
the most suitable spouse to create the needed suspense.
But more of this when we come to slick love stories.
category:plot lines
Category: transformation.