In my latest novel, The Little Rock Messenger, set in 1956, a young African-American boy becomes a reluctant messenger-courier for an Austrian emigre he meets on a Greyhound bus trip. The man is headed for Atlanta to deliver personal items to a young Jewish woman whose family perished in the Holocaust. Unfortunately, he dies before he can complete his mission, but before he does, he entrusts the young boy to act for him.
As I wrote the story, which I intended to be as much action-driven as character-driven, I began to see that I was developing a subtext suggesting the parallel plight of blacks and Jews who have been, and to some degree continue to be, victims of racial and cultural bigotry. There was nothing ironic intended in my narrative, but the message is there nonetheless. Are there perfect parallels in their histories? Of course not. Arguments can be made that societal integration has been much easier for the Jew. And yet there was the Holocaust, and there continues to be anti-semitism in many areas of the world, most prominently displayed in the middle east.
To me this is why writing continues to be a mystery. A story is never created like a photograph, where all elements of a setting are known and understood beforehand. A story is born through a process - sometimes grueling and time-consuming, sometimes less so - and during that process, characters and situations can turn in unforeseen ways, surprising not only the reader, but often the writer as well.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
As my story moved along, I encountered a lot of questions. For instance, how was a Greyhound bus designed in 1956; did it have air conditioning? How much was gasoline? How much was a bottle of Coke or Nehi soft drink? What did a call from a pay phone cost? Did African-Americans sit in the back of a bus? Oh-yes. Did bus stations in the South have separate waiting areas for blacks? Were blacks always talked-down to, or were there instances of kindness and respect shown by whites? Was there any fast-food, or only sit-down cafes? What was the popular music on the radio? As my story includes a suspenseful chase, I also needed to research law enforcement practices in 1956 - both local and federal. How did local cops interact with the FBI? Where was the regional FBI field office that would be involved? Atlanta. Where was it located in Atlanta in 1956? How many agents were there at that time? And so forth.
I was writing a book set in 1956 from the perspective of someone living in 2009. We live now in a time that is far removed from that earlier period, and I was forced to immerse myself in the environment of my characters. They had to wear clothes, drive cars, take buses, make phone calls, eat food, watch TV and movies, and listen to music that was available in 1956. They couldn't whip out a cell phone, jump on the internet or click-on the cable TV for a 24-hour news update. They used what they had, and that was my challenge. It was also a lot of fun. Because I kept asking myself as I got deeper into this project, how well would I function living in those times with what I know now? Could I adapt, or am I hopelessly imprisoned by my own place and time? It's an interesting question to explore. Because no matter how remote a place we travel to these days, it seems we're never very far away from a cell or SAT phone and other modern conveniences. Going back to the rudimentary life of 1956 wouldn't exactly be like cave-dwelling in Afghanistan, but it probably would seem pretty darn close.