Heisting from Hamlet: Chapter 4
On using "method to the madness" and "play within the play"
For previous installments of this explanation-and-exploration series:
Mea Culpa
Fine, I admit it. When I was writing COMMUNITY DAY, I stole an idea from Hamlet.
Actually, I stole two ideas from Hamlet.
Both are relevant to a potential character in the prequel to COMMUNITY DAY I’m thinking about writing.
Let me explain.
Acting!
As I currently envision it, the prequel would have a bunch of big characters. Hella alphas ramming heads.
But a plot twist, probably about 1/3 of the way in, would be that a young woman, seemingly soft and flaky, is actually a puppet master. She has been putting on an act—pretending to be innocent. All the while she’s been quietly, adeptly manipulating people and arranging events
In this way, she’s both an actor and a playwright.
OK, back to COMMUNITY DAY and Hamlet.
On Purpose
First, I’ve always liked characters with “a method to their madness”—when someone seems unhinged but is behaving that way for a reason. That framing actually originates in a line in Hamlet.1
And that is my narrator in a nutshell. We’re given plenty of reason to believe he is mentally unwell. But slowly, surely, we see there’s much more to him. His behavior has a purpose.
Indeed, in Chapter 4, I begin the task of showing the reader that there is a method to the narrator’s madness.
In fact, the narrator admits as much in the first paragraph of that chapter. After addressing his wife’s view that his stories are often “fantasyland,” he says:
I do love telling stories. Always have. There’s a method to it.
Meta
As for the second pilfered item from Hamlet: It’s the famous “play within the play.” Fancy professors call that a “metatheatrical device”: Shakespeare pens the play Hamlet, and his character Hamlet puts on a play in Hamlet.
I like the way this give the character power. Instead of being a pawn controlled by the author, Hamlet is suddenly creating a story that drives the author’s story. It’s a way of allowing the protagonist to hijack the writer’s plane. It’s subversive.
In Hamlet, Hamlet puts on a show that mirrors a murder that might’ve been committed. Hamlet is trying to send a message to the possible perpetrator.
If you breeze through Chapter 4 of COMMUNITY DAY, you’ll likely think it’s just the conclusion of a silly story about a silly neighborhood party. But if you slow down, you’ll see that the narrator is alluding to the murders at the park (the heart of the novel) and the themes he believes to be important. He’s also trying to send signals to his lawyer—the person to whom he’s telling the story.
In other words, my narrator is creating a story within my story.
Combination
Now let me explain how I combine 1) the method to his madness and 2) a story within the story.
In the first paragraph of Chapter 4, the narrator makes absolutely clear to his lawyer (and the reader) that he’s spinning a yarn. The story he’s currently telling shouldn’t be taken at face value:
The first time my wife heard me telling a friend about this story of Matty and the party, she sighed, shook her head, and said my version was entertaining but bore little resemblance to what actually took place that afternoon. Ha! It has far more truth than she’d like to admit. But I do love telling stories. Always have. There’s a method to it. My mom would sometimes have to tell my teachers to take me “seriously not literally.” She was right. Absolutely right. Literal only gets you so far. My wife used to call my storytelling my “powers of hogwash.” She said I had my superpowers working with this particular story. [Emphasis added]
So what exactly is the narrator trying to convey?
If you take the narrator literally, you’ll think he’s crazy. There’s no way his tale can be true. It’s too outrageous.
But unwell people seldom tell you to doubt their stories. So he’s conceding the appearance of madness—and implying that you should look deeper.
Now, the overarching story of the novel revolves around his arrest, his confinement in a psychiatric hospital, his role in a horrible crime, and themes of morality and duty.
But the narrator seems to have no interest in talking about any of those things. Instead, at this point in the novel, he’s regaling his lawyer with a ridiculous story about a ridiculous neighborhood party.
But if we see his tale as a “play within a play” (his story inside my story), we’ll take his story seriously not literally. We’ll accept that he’s trying to accomplish something.
“C’mon, Andy,” you might be thinking, “how would the reader know that the narrator’s story is working on this other level?”
Because the language he uses to talk about a disagreement during a Saturday-afternoon party constantly evokes 1) Death, 2) Justice, 3) Mental illness, and 4) God.2
The Plot of the Story in the Story
Here are instances from Chapter 4 where the narrator’s words suggest something more than a silly story.
Death
“I’m too young to die”
“straddling his prone body”
“totally incapacitated”
“dead silent”3
“playing a cadaver”
“wake-the-dead”4
Justice
“Justice was gunning for him”
“lawyers had worked out a deal”
“war crimes”
“cosmic justice”
“due for comeuppance”
“books gotta be squared”
“my punishment”
“mob justice-wise”
“ridden out on a rail”
“banishment”
“negotiate down to a lesser charge”
“accept a plea deal”
“This mob wanted justice”
“tar and feathering”
“a consensus had developed that I had done wrong”
Mental Illness
“cuckoo clock”
“laughing like madmen”5
“dazzling madness”
“beautiful lunacy”
God
“resurrection”
“He is risen”
“looked to the heavens”
“Protestant rectitude”6
“God, he deserved it”
“The Man Upstairs uses all tools in the box”
“The gods of justice”
“Jesus, give me the wheel”
Planning the Prequel
How is this relevant to the young woman in the possible prequel?
I’m realizing now that if I’m going to eventually reveal her as a puppet master in disguise as a naif, I need to do at least two things. I have to foreshadow the coming revelation so it doesn’t come entirely out of the blue. It will need to be a surprise to the reader… but a surprise that the reader sees, in hindsight, should not have been a surprise.
I also need to give some thought to why she feigns simplicity. What is it in her character that causes her to want to appear one way while actually being another?
As for the play-within-the-play aspect, I have a vague idea. There will probably be two scenes where her puppet-master skills will be on full display. Rather than just describing her actions as brilliant and conniving, I think I’d want to describe them more like stage directions. Like she’s already written the script in her mind and now she’s moving people around like a director.
Wait. If I describe her like a director, that frees me up to describe someone else as the playwright. She’s operationalizing the plan, but someone else has written the script. A ha!
Now I just have to figure out with whom she’s in cahoots…
Polonius says, “Though this be madness, yet there is a method in it.” https://www.opensourceshakespeare.org/views/plays/play_view.php?WorkID=hamlet&Act=2&Scene=2&Scope=scene#:~:text=Polonius.%20%5Baside%5D%20Though%20this%20be%20madness%2C%20yet%20there%20is%20a%20method%20in%27t.%2D
The narrator obliquely foreshadows several other big events but that will have to wait for another column. But examples include “water under the bridge” (in reference to the ongoing discussions about the Ohunka river, the Wayfarer’s track, and the Union Central bridge) and “party suddenly turned chaotic” (which is the entirety of the final scene of the novel).
It could’ve been just “silent,” but I used “dead silent.”
This is about volume, so it could have been “very loud,” “cacophonous,” or “blaring,” but I chose to use “wake-the-dead loud.”
It could’ve been “laughing hysterically” or “laughing like a hyena.”
It could’ve been just “rectitude,” but I added “Protestant”