In which Lisa waxes on (and on) about stories

I love stories. If you know me, you know that I am a huge nerd for stories. If it’s got plot and characters, I’m all about it—movies, books, tv shows, musicals, games, camp-fire ghost stories, fish-that-got-away tales, “How was your day?” “Oh, do get me started” rants and all the rest. I love ‘em. I’ve studied what makes a good plot, the characteristics of heroes and villains and antiheroes, traditional heroic arcs, predictable plot twists, and on and on ad infinitum. Basically, stories are my thing.

So it probably isn’t too surprising when I say that I’ve had stories on my mind lately.

In particular, I’ve been musing about our stories, yours and mine. The lives we lead and the ordinary adventures on which we go daily. Our heartbreaks and triumphs, our goals and our efforts to achieve them, our feelings, thoughts and actions. The average person (with the exception, perhaps, of people with certain mental or emotional disorders) is the protagonist of his or her very own “Once upon a time.”

 

Think about it. The protagonist is the usually the main person from whose point of view the world of the story is seen. They are not perfect, they do not always make the right choices, their point of view is often biased by their beliefs and experiences—but to them, and to the observer (the reader of the book, hearer of the story, viewer of the show) their actions are generally justified. For an example, let’s talk Harry Potter. (Yeah, I referenced Harry Potter in my last blog post. Do I have an obsession? Yes, in fact, I kind of do. Sorry, not sorry. If it really bothers you, skip the next paragraph.)

In the Harry Potter series, young wizard Harry, who was raised by abusive better-than-thou bullies, meets and immediately dislikes snide better-than-thou bully, Draco Malfoy. 

Throughout the series he suspects Malfoy of being behind any number of dastardly deeds. Sometimes he is right (Death Eater invasion of Hogwarts, anyone?), but at least as often he is wrong. Occasionally he gets in trouble trying to prove Malfoy is behind things when Malfoy really isn’t (making illegal polyjuice potion to try and prove Malfoy opened the Chamber of Secrets, for example). Similarly, it is part of Harry’s impulsive courageous nature—usually a good thing!—that he often acts rashly, without fully understanding the situation (setting out to “save” Sirius from the Ministry of Magic, only to find it was a trap and Sirius isn’t even there).

Now, before you start wondering if you just stumbled onto a Harry Potter appreciation/analysis-only blog, lemme get to my point. As happens often when we see the world entirely from one point of view, we see Harry’s actions as completely reasonable. Even when he messes up horribly, we understand his rationale and we find it easy to forgive him his stupidity.

But imagine we’d seen the story from Draco’s point of view? Or Dumbledore’s? Hermione’s? Harry’s actions wouldn’t seem quite so normal if we saw him through their characteristics and their sets of beliefs and biases.

This whole train of thought started when I found myself confronted with a version of a story I’d heard before, but from a different point of view than I’d previously considered. That is, I listened to the musical, “Hamilton.”

(So good, guys. 10/10 adults-with-a-tolerance-for-less-than-squeaky-language-and-an-appreciation-for-musicals-and-American-history would recommend.)

In Hamilton, we see the story of the American Revolution from the perspective of founding father, Alexander Hamilton. (Shocking, I know. You never would’ve suspected that was the protagonist, based on the name of the play, right?) I am a big history nerd too (STORIES, man—REAL LIFE stories!) and the Revolution is one of my favorite periods to learn about. In particular, I have always loved learning about Thomas Jefferson. I rather relate to the tall, shy, musically talented guy with a penchant for expressing himself better in the written word than vocally.

So, given my adoration of Jefferson, you can imagine my surprise when, halfway through enjoying the heck out of that musical, at the point when I’d already come to relate to and like Hamilton, I found out that he and Jefferson were political opposites. “Hamilton” portrays Jefferson as a hypocritical, pompous, jealous jerk who has it out for the play’s hero. Of course, the play exaggerates the character of Jefferson a bit for entertainment purposes, but it still represents the role that Jefferson played in Hamilton’s narrative pretty well.

It took me a while to reconcile Hamilton’s Jefferson with the Jefferson I’d pictured while reading my history books. A person couldn’t possibly be both the villain of one representation and the hero painted in another! Which version was right? I fretted. But eventually I realized they both could be, and quite possibly are, correct. It just depends on who is looking, their relationship with the person under scrutiny and the character traits and actions to which they pay more attention.

Sorry, I realize I’m getting a little long winded here, and not everyone is as excited about the nuances of story as I am. I’ll try and round up my thoughts quickly.

My POINT, gentle reader, is this: we are each the protagonists of our own stories, for good and ill. Of course, it is important that we be our own heroes and heroines. We are here to live and to become and to make something of ourselves, after all. But sometimes we fail to understand that every other person we know is also the protagonist of their own story too. Every action, interaction, relationship, passing gesture, every story has another side to it. We would do well not to villainize those people to whose perspectives we are not privy. And, even more than that, we could all be better at trying to understand the stories of those around us. We’ll likely find ourselves far more sympathetic to them, and we may even find ourselves in the role of antagonist in their lives and understand changes we can make in our own characters.