The Critics’ Corner

The Ending in “Death of a Stranger”

Discussion with Pete Sierra and Don Webb

Pete Sierra and Don Webb converse about “Death of a Stranger” and Challenge 300.

[Pete Sierra] Are you aware that our hospital system has turned into a killing field? You have more chances to get killed in one of our hospitals by a staff blunder, than to get killed going to our worst city ghetto at midnight, or walking the streets of Baghdad. 200,000 patients a year die from staff negligence. So depicting nurses behaving unprofessionally or being cynical seems quite realistic nowadays. Besides, the two nurses were alone. I think to expect nurses to act professionally all the time is unrealistic.

[Don Webb] The Challenge question does not contradict what you say about irresponsible hospital staff; if anything, it emphasizes your point. My problem is with art, not with reality.

I have only one reservation: the account of Juan Lomita’s experience and the account of the two nurses’ bizarre behavior are two different stories:

Juan’s death is described very perceptively, even poetically. The problem is: How to conclude? There are a number of ways, such as depicting the nurses as blasé and indifferent. That’s perfectly legitimate: such an ending can challenge the readers’ sensitivity quite effectively.

But Juan’s story and the nurses’ story are not of the same order. Juan’s story is poetry; the nurses’ is satire — or stark realism, if you will — and implies a cause external to the story itself. In other words, the nurses’ story is not really an epilogue; it’s a footnote. It amounts to saying: “Now you’ve seen what Juan has gone through. Here’s why it happened.”

Readers will wonder: “Who is this story about: Juan or the nurses? And what is the story about: Juan’s experience of dying or hospital malfeasance?”

If the center of the story is that the nurses’ neglect causes Juan’s death, then you’ve done too good a job with Juan; he has to be relegated to a pathetic but secondary role while the nurses take center stage.

If the center of the story is Juan’s experience of dying, then the nurses are a distraction.

[Pete] The story is not about Juan, or hospital neglect. The story is about how the human mind deals with death. The story is presented at two levels: Juan’s subjective experience of his death is to project it as happening to a stranger, therefore, the title. His own death, denied yet witnessed as the death of another, has deep philosophical urgency for him.

This is contrasted by the cold insensitivity which protects the nurses’ minds from their daily dealing with death. To them it is mainly work. Their role in the story is also to let he reader know that there was no stranger dying with Juan. He died alone.

The reader is moved briskly from idealized death to death as business. The story is designed to contrast our mind’s efforts to make sense of life and death, with the reality that neither offers explanations, and often ends what we love most, abruptly and for no discernible reason at all.

Maybe, you like more tidy stories, but sometimes, I like to present readers with a bit of a jig puzzle to assemble.

[Don] Thanks for the explanation. I’m a little surprised by it, mainly because it supports squarely what I said earlier. In short, you and I have said the same thing in different words.

I’m not sure what a “tidy” story would be. And I really don’t care whether any story can be called “tidy.”

My job is to represent the readers to the authors. If I represented myself alone, I might have rejected “Death of a Stranger” or made the acceptance conditional pending a rewrite. I didn’t do that. I accepted the story as is and gave you the option of a rewrite. Most of our contributors see that as evidence of good faith; a few object to any suggestions at all. Honestly, you’d be amazed...

I can’t predict what any individual will like, and I like to be surprised, myself. I’m very enthusiastic about the depiction of Juan Lomita’s experience of dying: the prose poetry gives it the ring of authenticity. And that’s something that readers generally do respond to favorably.

I realize that many authors like to puzzle their readers. In mystery stories, game-playing is practically obligatory: a mystery writer typically misdirects the readers into mistaken suspicions before revealing the culprit; or the author may unravel mistaken assumptions one after another in order to unmask the culprit or explain the mystery. Misdirection is a legitimate and frequently-used narrative device in all fiction, not only in mysteries.

However, it is not legitimate to mislead the reader. For example, a mystery story cannot be resolved on the basis of evidence unknown to the reader. And that’s why Bewildering Stories frowns upon deus ex machina endings, to cite an example.

Can a messenger from the King arrive in the final scene to arrest a con man? Can a long-long relative appear and reveal vital information that will set everything right? Only in 17th-century France, where such plot resolutions were expected in the comic theater. Can the cavalry ride to the rescue? Only in 20th-century western films, for exactly the same reason.

We’re in complete agreement that the nurses’ callous indifference does belong in the story, as does their revelation that Juan has been alone in his room. What strikes me as odd is their unprofessional and sometimes strange conduct. That’s a legitimate story, but it’s not Juan’s. And that’s why I think the ending is more a footnote than an epilogue.

Readers love authenticity and powerful, persuasive writing. They’ll be captivated by Juan’s story. I’m just afraid that they’ll be distracted by the nurses’ conduct and will prefer to talk about that. Like the nurses, the readers may forget all about Juan.

[Pete] I think this type of conversation is of interest to all writers and editors as well. Wouldn’t you love to read the correspondence of great past writers and their editors? I would. Not that I pretend that ours would be of interest to many, but it could be educational to some. I certainly enjoy discussing writing with you.

[Don] I wholeheartedly agree. I’ve enjoyed our conversation. And it’s the sort of thing that readers also enjoy for one important reason: they can listen in on two real people talking seriously about problems that both writers and readers commonly confront.

Neither of us has convinced the other, but I don’t mind; we’ve been doing something more important: laying out cogent reasons for different points of view. Readers and writers can learn from us both at the same time.

Keep up the good work... and I’m looking forward to your next story!