Howard Pease’s Letter To Pat

Dear Pat:
You write that you have read every book of mine except two- quite a record. Yet I wonder if you really read those books...

If you reviewed one for your English teacher at school, you no doubt wrote something about the characters, the story plot, the humour, if any, the prose style, and all those other obvious elements of fiction. But did you scratch through the surface of the story to discover what the author had to say? Did you find the theme of each book, and then ask yourself how it applied to you? If you didn’t do this, you failed to read those books.

Let me hasten to point out that not every book contains more than the story with its surface elements. “Escape fiction” doesn’t. This is the type of fiction you most often find in the big popular magazines. It is never realistic. It never makes the reader think.

At least half of our young people’s books are of this type- pure escape. In plot they run like this:
Our youthful hero, poor but honest and hard - working, is presented with a colt, apparently worthless. Of course the average reader knows better; the colt is an ugly duckling. Under tender care this colt grows into a magnificent thoroughbred. Now our hero sees his chance. With the help of a friend, a “character” at a nearby racing stable, he trains his horse for the turf. Here we have suspense- the -ever present danger in the dark of night from other trainers who are jealous. Valiantly our hero triumphs over all these villains. In the exciting last chapter, our ugly duckling wins the race and our deserving hero receives the Grand Prize of fifty thousand dollars.

This, Pat, is not reality. They aren’t real people where world and this isn’t real life. It is the dream world where facts are never faced; in other words, this is an escape story. Such a book in itself doesn’t do any harm, When truly entertaining, it is valuable in getting the slow reader to come back like Oliver Twist and ask for more. It is only a continual diet of such books that may be harmful. For these books give a distorted view of life; they the reader in an unreal world.

I’ve written escape fiction myself. Jungle River and Hurricane Weather are just stories. In state industrial schools where most of the delinquent boys are so ill -adjusted they cannot face the world, such books are eagerly read, So we need, you see, all kinds of books for all kinds of readers. Still, if you are to become a reader of our better serials and murder tales, you must learn while young how to read. You must learn to dive beneath the surface of a story and explore in the twilight until you find its meaning – its point, its moral, its underlying idea, its theme.
Since most modern writers do not tack on an explanation to their stories, as did old Aesop in his fable about the fox and the grapes, you must learn how to hunt, how to dig.

You might begin your search by studying a popular song such as “Bali Ha’i,” from South Pacific, which says that most people live on a lonely island lost in the middle of a foggy sea, and most people long for another island- Bali Ha’i. Don’t take this literally Pat. This is figurative language. You might say in your own words that the song’s idea, or theme, is “Greener pastures are over the fence,” or Beyond the horizon is a lovelier place to live.” In this idea you’ll find what we call a universal truth. It is true of you and of me and of every other person, because all of us at times wish we were in other places- over the fences that surround us. It is the element in the song that gives it such a wide appeal and makes it stand out from other popular songs.

Pick up a volume of fairy tales by Hans Christian Andersen and read “The Red Shoes.” The little red shoes are always dancing. To me they represent. or symbolize, a quality. To me they are a symbol of vanity or the frivolous life. And to me the theme of the story is: “Vanity leads to sorrow and getting rid of vanity leads to peace and happiness.” Next read “The Nightingale” by Andersen and then figure for yourself what the live nightingale, with her lovely songs, stands for; and what the mechanical nightingale, with its one music-box song, stands for. Both are symbols. There is a meaning, a universal truth, in this little tale, and that’s one reason why it lasts through the years.
This is the stuff of art and literature. Our best writers whom I want you to read some day- Hawthorne, Melville, Henry James, Chekhov, Katherine Mansfield, Hemingway- can be read, and must be read, on more then one level. The short stories and novels of these distinguished writers not only have themes of universal significance, they are also filled with implication and symbolism; that is, they contain under-the-surface meanings.
It is not only our top-drawer authors who possess this under-the-surface element in their fiction. Any writer, if he really knows his craft, makes the attempt to include it.
Certainly it should not be difficult to peer into the twilight depths of a story for young people. Such a book may not be literature, but it may be, I hope, a stepping-stone to the reading of literature. Let me look at a few books I happen to know best - my own. Take one of my simplest books, Secret Cargo.

On the surface, this is an action and mystery story about a locked chest hidden in the hold of a ship. But there is also a hidden cargo that my hero, Larry, knows nothing about until the end of his adventures. When the lid of the wooden chest is raised, there is nothing of value inside. Then why is the book titled Secret Cargo? Because its theme, a belief I still hold to, is this: “In all of us, in our unplumbed depths, there are certain hidden qualities, abilities, talents- call them what you will- which few of us ever discover and bring to light and put to use. So seldom do any of us ever reach the limits of our own short range.”

The secret cargo is in Larry himself. The brassbound chest, hidden in the ship, is a symbol. What do I mean by that? Well, a lion is a symbol of courage. [Remember Richard the Lion-Hearted?] The object used as a symbol represents something else, a quality, an idea of greater magnitude, something you cannot see or put your hands on. To use a symbol is one way of trying to give more depth, more meaning to a story. Now, Pat, stand on the first level but hold yourself ready to dive. On the surface, this book is the story of a locked chest hidden on a ship at sea. Now dive to the second level. The story is about the secret cargo that Larry discovers within himself, certain abilities he did not know he had until his adventures showed them to him. Now plunge down to the third and touch bottom.

You see, I had hoped that a young reader like you, after finishing the story, would pause long enough to ask himself if he, like my hero, possessed any secret cargo. Think a minute. Dig deep down inside yourself, bring this cargo to light, put it to use. Did you do any of these things?
At last, Pat, we are beginning to read a book. We have found its theme. We have discovered the use of a symbol. We note that the surface story of the finding of the hidden chest on a ship at sea goes parallel with the deeper story of Larry’s finding himself as a capable human being. We understand now what the author is saying between the lines. So we finally ask ourselves if there is a meaning here that touches us personally, and we linger over this question….

If for a time you read along the lines I’ve mentioned, you should soon be ready to plunge into literature. I’d like you then to read a masterpiece by Ernest Hemingway. This is his short novel, The Old Man and the Sea. Let me suggest a few things, out of many, to look for.

From the very first paragraph, where you read that the boat’s sail, furled, was “like the flag of permanent defeat,” to the very last sentence of the book, “The old man was dreaming about the lions,” you will find symbols, underlying meanings, implications. Note that the old man feels himself a brother to the fish in the sea, to the birds that rest for a moment on his boat after flying so far from shore. Like himself, they are all part of life. Note that after a turtle has been butchered, its heart will still beat for hours. Do you find a meaning here?

When, at the end of the story, the old man returns defeated to his hut, he throws himself down upon his cot with his arms outstretched, “the palms of his hands up.” Here is the symbol of Christ on the Cross- material defeat but spiritual victory. For the old man still dreams about the lions. He has not lost his courage, his faith.

Why does the author so seldom call his main character by his name, Santiago, but usually just “the old man”? Because he represents mankind. His story is man’s story down through the ages. And why does the old man not have a wife at home or a friend of his own age to talk to? Why, instead, is his companion a boy? Because the author needed a youth to represent the younger generation. The old man passes on to this youth two things of value: first, a knowledge of how to fish, how to make a living; and second, courage that never admits defeat. In each generation, man needs to hold on to these two things if he is to survive, if the cycle of life is to go on.

Note the tourists who enter the story just before the final paragraph. They gaze upon the skeleton of the marlin and think it is a shark’s. They see only superficially; they do not understand, or care. Don’t be a tourist, Pat, who skims along like a water bug on the surface of life.

These under-the-surface elements that we have discussed are also to be found in many of the European movies shown in this country and, now and then, in an American movie. If you saw the Oscar-winning All About Eve, you must have been aware that the movie’s end was brought onto the stage. The camera turned away from Bette Davis and Celeste Holm and focused upon an unnamed character, a teenage girl. [This was Marilyn Monroe in one of her first small parts on the screen.] This teenage girl, standing before a panel of mirrors with a lovely evening gown held up before her, saw her own glittering reflection over and over again in those mirrors. Without a word spoken, the whole meaning of the story was summed up on that symbolic final scene. That glittering dress was a symbol that hit you with tremendous force. It was a symbol of material success at the expense of spiritual failure, a ruthless success that had achieved its end by trampling on friendships. The movie, in its own technical way, was getting under the surface of the story, aiming its camera at you and at me, speaking directly to you and to me. This is art.

When you bring this knowledge of method to the movies you see and the books you read, you gain a new understanding of your own life and a new understanding of the lives of people about you. Not only have learned how to get under the surface of a story; you have learned at the same time something more vital- how to get under the surface of life.

Let me summarize:
I hope now that you will be able to spot an escape story. A good one, based upon some measure of reality, can be as refreshing as a shower on a hot summer day. It is only the cheaper ones that I question. And those which over-emphasize material gain in the last chapter give such a distorted view of life that a diet of such books may act as an obstacle to your maturing into a sensible adult. Remember that a fairy tale may have, behind its action, a meaning, a universal truth. Remember that it is this element in some of our young people’s books that makes them stepping-stones to the reading of literature. Remember that behind the action, the characters, the prose style, lies the true worth of a book- its meaning.

You should [1] find the theme of a story and be able to express it in your own words, the fewer the better. [2] Be alert and look for symbols, and if there are some, decide what they stand for. [3] Pick out human values presented by the author and label them either as spiritual or as material values; then, according to your own way of thinking, rate them as to their importance. [4] Finally, identify some of the under-the-surface elements and ask yourself how they apply to you personally.

Yet how many readers, old or young, do this? Do you, Pat, truly read a book? Do you hunt for its secret cargo?
Cordially yours,
Howard Pease
Howard Pease, “How to Read Fiction”