COGNITIVE RESONANCE

by Steve Steinbock

I pity the misunderstood analogy. I propose that we stand up and defend the rights of overused and underpaid metaphors. There are tens of thousands of them out there, ignored and forgotten, but used every day.

When a TV economist talks about a spiraling economy, is she being fair to spirals – or to economies, for that matter?

A headline in yesterday’s New York Times reported that Ethanol, Just Recently a Savior, Is Struggling. As I began to read the article – imagining the messianic fuel gasping for air – I had to stop myself. When the article referred to corn growth, was I to take that literally, or was it a metaphor for something else?

Two other lead stories yesterday brought me further confusion. One headline read: Obama’s Battle on Stimulus Shows Threats to His Agenda. I don’t like battles, or threats for that matter. The thought of our new president taking up arms to protect his agenda had me shifting in my seat to protect my own agenda. The next headline read: 20 Dead as Taliban Attackers Storm Kabul Offices. Since this appeared to be a story about a storm at someone’s office, I wondered if the “20 Dead” were a metaphor of some sort. I assumed that it wasn’t as serious as Obama’s battle.

Can you resonate with what I’m saying?

No? I’m glad. Resonance is a physics concept. I don’t claim to have the vaguest understanding of how the collapse of the Tacoma Narrows Bridge is related to measurements on an oscilloscope or to Galileo’s pendulum experiments. I’m not sure I could tell you the difference between frequency and amplitude. I’ve heard that Nikola Tesla believed there was a vibratory sweet spot (sorry, another overused analogy) at which entire buildings could be demolished with a simple light tapping.

What I can conceptualize is the way a violin string can start to vibrate when the corresponding string of another nearby violin is bowed or plucked. I don’t fully understand how it happens, but I’ve seen it, and I know it works. You can get the same effect with guitars, tuning forks, and even wine glasses. Cool, huh?

What does any of this have to do with fiction?

Those of us who work with a lot of fictional characters are well aware of how a character’s personality – his distinctness – can be brought out by his contrast to other characters. Where would Stan Laurel be without Ollie? Shrek without his Donkey? Would anyone remember Prince Hal were it not for Falstaff? And of course there’s Nero Wolfe and his leg-man Archie Goodwin.

Even minor characters are made more real by their differences. Consider the villains in Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon. Long before Lorre and Greenstreet brought them to the screen, the characters of Joel Cairo and Caspar Gutman provide a study in contrasts.

But what about similarities? The other day I read an analysis of M. Night Shyamalan’s “The Sixth Sense.” The author suggested that the personality traits of Bruce Willis’ character – his loneliness, his sense of abandonment, and his fear of ghosts – are brought out through the character of his young patient, played by Haley Joel Osment. In effect, the boy who “sees dead people” mirrored, or resonated, Willis’ traits.

I was thinking about Robert Parker’s characters, Spenser and Hawk. At first glance, Hawk seems to contrast Spenser. But on second thought, I think Hawk serves to bring out of Spenser the very traits that he brings to the relationship. Does that make sense? When Spenser is with Hawk, we see Spenser for what he really is: a tireless hero unafraid of breaking some legs in order to save an innocent victim.

How are other characters brought out by their resonance with other characters?

Rock and Roll Titles

Speaking of resonance, I’ve been thinking about music in the context of last week’s round-table discussion on titles.

It was one of those rare days when I was in my car listening to music rather than news or an audiobook. I was playing a David Bowie CD and was commenting to myself on the brilliance of the music. “Ziggy Stardust” was playing. Some really great phrases: “Making love with his ego” “snow white tan” “leper messiah.”

Okay, I answered myself. Maybe none of these would make a great story title (although “Snow White Tan” has a certain resonance). But it got me thinking about a title-source that we never really discussed during our Title Round-table. Paul mentioned a Pilot he pitched which almost had the title “Bad Company.” Rob wrote a bit about how he used a line from an Arlo Guthrie song. But none of us really jumped on the music scene as a source.

Just a quick scan of my bookshelves brought up the following: Ian Rankin has used the names of Rolling Stones albums (“Black and Blue,” “Let it Bleed,” etc.).

Peter Robinson, whose writing constantly evokes music, also alludes to the Stones with his Playing With Fire. (This title, by the way, is extremely apt to the contents of the book). Other of Robinson’s musical book titles include A Piece of My Heart and Friend of the Devil.

Martin Edwards uses song titles for his Liverpool series with names such as All the Lonely People, Eve of Destruction, and The Devil in Disguise. His latest novel (I almost typed “album”) is Liverpool Sunset, from the song by The Kinks. Edwards does the same with his short stories. The shorter adventures of Liverpool-based Harry Devlin include “The Boxer,” “When I’m Dead and Gone,” and “With a Little Help From My Friends.”

Michelle Spring is another writer who gives her books evocative titles taken from popular music (“Nights in White Satin,” “Every Breath You Take,” “In the Midnight Hour,” etc). Who else am I forgetting?