Clyde Andrews responds to...

Challenge 194

G’day, Don,

Just thought I’d respond to this week’s challenge (194).

“In a comedy you get married; in a tragedy you die.”

As for comedy and tragedy, I am not sure about that. You say that in comedy, someone gets married, whereas in a tragedy someone dies. I think differently. Now I’m probably wrong here, as I don’t know much about the mechanics of such things, but I always thought that a light moment can/does highlight a dark. Or to put it simply, how can you judge a dark moment without a light one?

In the case of “The Orion Incident” I think the mixing of the genres is justified. It reinforces the plight of the alien. Without it, it may not make the reader connect with the alien as much as it did. Even when writing it I had that “oh my god moment” where I thought: “here’s these two clowning around in the escape hole, while the alien is distraught and dying.” Anyway, that’s my opinion of it. And, yes, I intended that scene to be a comedy.

Now as for Judy being able to trust Reg. I think that is a good question. And one I deliberately left out of the story. (Rightly or wrongly). I wanted the story to have that “hang on a minute” feeling to it at the end. I gave a clue as to how the reader should feel about it when Reg says that in his view the Cassiopeian should be frozen, and not killed in cold blood. Before this incident I felt that Reg would have had no problem killing it. For him to say otherwise is a shift in his mental attitude.

Thanks, mate.

Clyde

And thank you for the discussion, matey (practicing my Oz here). “The Orion Incident” attempts to do something very original and very difficult: mingle tragedy and comedy. You deserve credit for trying and for giving us the chance to see how both genres work.

The “comedy-married, tragedy-die” formula is not mine: it’s an archetype and so primordial that there’s no point in searching Antiquity for its origins. Obviously it’s a rule of thumb, a starting point, and need not be taken literally. All sorts of gradations are possible.

Look at a classic, straightforward example: Hamlet doesn’t marry Ophelia; their relationship ends in a brutal tragedy. So does Hamlet’s career: he fights to the death with Claudius. “The Orion Incident” provides another literal example of the rule: two of the characters get married or at least get back together, while the two Cassiopeians die: one offstage; the other, on stage, for all practical purposes.

but I always thought that a light moment can/does highlight a dark. Or to put it simply, how can you judge a dark moment without a light one?

Marriage — or at least a happy ending — is normally considered a good thing; death, a bad thing. Those are commonly accepted notions; they don’t have to be spelled out to anybody.

The contrast you refer to is required only when you need to distinguish between relative good and evil. What, for Hamlet, is a fate worse than death? Living with the guilt of appearing to condone his father’s assassination.

Look at another classic example, one that’s more ambiguous: Oedipus outwits the Sphinx, becomes king of Thebes and marries Jocasta. That’s comedy, in the sense of a happy ending.

But Oedipus finds out the truth about himself in two ways: he learns who his parents really were, and he realizes that he has been acting like a know-it-all. Oedipus’ hubris is his lack of curiosity and prudence: he flouts the Oracle’s authoritative warning and is very careless about whom he kills and whom he marries. He doesn’t die at the end, exactly; the equivalent is that he’s severely impaired.

While on this subject, dark comedies are some of my favourite shows. We have a TV show here called “6 feet under” (about a family funeral home business.) Quite hilarious in parts, yet tragic in others – for obvious reasons. Therefore in the case of The Orion Incident I think the mixing of the genres is justified. It reinforces the plight of the alien. Without it, it may not make the reader connect with the alien as much as it did.

“The Orion Incident” emphasizes comedy at the expense of tragedy. Proof? Stand the plot on its head: Reg and Judy are Cassiopeians while the space aliens are human. Now the story has a rather different effect, doesn't it?

Even when writing it I had that ‘oh my god moment where’ I thought: “here’s these two clowning around in the escape hole, while the alien is distraught and dying.

Right. The audience goes from pillar to post emotionally. Sophocles portrays opposing emotions in Oedipus Rex by having them follow sequentially with one character. It may be possible to do something similar with two pairs of characters in a simultaneous comedy and tragedy; I don’t know.

Now as for Judy being able to trust Reg. I think that is a good question. And one I deliberately left out of the story. (Rightly or wrongly). I wanted the story to have that “hang on a minute” feeling to it at the end. I gave a clue as to how the reader should feel about it when Reg says that in his view the Cassiopeian should be frozen, and not killed in cold blood. Before this incident I felt that Reg would have had no problem killing it. For him to say otherwise is a shift in his mental attitude.

I found Reg’s suggestion very interesting: it indicates an unsuspected depth to his character. And that means it needs some foreshadowing, perhaps even a background story. How to handle it? Any number of ways:

Why is Reg so obsessive about punctuality, even when it means leaving passengers behind? He’s doing the right thing (departing on time) for the wrong reasons (his own gratification). As a consequence he’s putting himself before the passengers and even the transport company. In short, he acts irrationally. Now that calls for an explanation, one that matches the gravity of the situation.

For example, Reg could have a flashback to a time when he had been more lenient and waited for latecomers to board. Only, on one trip a medical team was among the passengers, and the delay — small as it was — resulted in the death of a severely injured or critically ill patient on the Moon...

Ever since then, Reg has been burned: he wasn’t really responsible for that patient’s death; maybe the patient could not have been saved even if the ship had left early...

But Reg does feel responsible, and he’s never going to let it happen again, even when — and this is the irrational part — there is no emergency. Over the years, he’s taken to rewarding himself with a cigar or something after a successful, on-time lift-off, and he’s almost forgotten — or repressed — the memory of the time he departed and arrived too late.

That example may be a bit convoluted, but I think it serves its purpose. The background story gives Reg motivation as well as a humane character that Judy can admire.

Now, let’s make sure we know what I’m talking about here. If we consider literary characters as being real people, that’s a big mistake: we can say anything we want about them. What would be the point? We’d just be adding our own stories on top of the original, which is practically forgotten.

No, the principle is motivation, one that Carmen describes actors as using in playing roles on stage. The readers will understand Reg’s change of heart when they know who he is and, sooner or later, why.

Don