Why Hardy Boys Novels = Pride and Prejudice

Some literary authorities cite seven basic 

plot types, but I propose an eighth

And now for something... completely different

It behooves the ambitious analyst to categorize, organize, and otherwise provide structure to the examination of literature. Those who desire to leave a mark upon the world of literature wrack their brains to produce a new system.  For example, according to Wikipedia, British literary figure Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch described all plots as development of one of seven types of fictional conflict: Man vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, Man against God, Man vs. Society, Man in the Middle, Man & Woman, Man vs. Himself. As my own humble yet valuable contribution to the literary theory of the Western World, I propose recognition of another type of plot. It may be summed up as “Wait…you mean it’s HIM?”

           

            The “Wait… you mean it’s HIM?” (W...YMIH) plot is found in a multitude of books. It transcends genre, delivering climaxes in tales as divergent as detective stories and romance novels. Let us take two wildly different pieces of writing as our example, and compare the plot of the typical Hardy Boys tale with that of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Ridiculous, disrespectful, sacrilegious (this for the Janeites), you say? Ah, but I do not claim that Miss Austen and the legion of Franklin W. Dixon ghostwriters handled their plot with equal humanity and dexterity. I only point out that each used the same one.

           

            Like other plots, the W...YMIH begins by establishing a problem, in this case a problem centered on the question: “Whom?” Elizabeth Bennet (and her mother) wonders whom she will marry. The Hardy Boys wonder whom they will turn in to the police for the crime in question. Both parties are in search of their man. Immediately the story proceeds to the introduction of the “Rude Gent.” This fellow, lavishly well-off in Miss Austen’s story, is also wealthy in the Hardy world. He catches the protagonists’ attention through his uncalled for ill-temper. To a discerning reader, the “Rude Gent’s” behavior is enough to mark him at once as the character upon whom we ought to fix our eye, but the protagonists, unaware of literature's tropes, fail to grasp his significance even when he moves beyond “Rude Gent” and slides into the role of “Rude Gent Who Keeps Showing Up.” In the case of the Hardy brothers, he generally bashes them on the head once or twice when they are not looking. In the case of Mr. Darcy, he proffers insults .

           

            The “Rude Gent Who Keeps Showing Up” (RGWKSU) is clearly qualified to answer to the great question “Whom?” Mr. Darcy is suitably rich and single. The Hardy Boys’ villain is suitably possessed of means, motive and opportunity. However, the plot is not so simple and uninteresting as to allow an epiphany in the first few chapters: no, a “Distracting Gent” must first appear. In the case of the Dixon ghostwriters, some deserving and put-upon person (a friend’s father, a young clerk seeking to rise in the world, an old man protecting his nearest and dearest) behaves in a suspicious manner and must be investigated. While the brothers are chasing their Red Herring, Elizabeth Bennett finds herself fond of a Red Lobsterback: Wickham, in his dashing scarlet coat, appears to be a better “Whom” than Darcy.

           

            The truth about the RGWKSU is finally revealed through climactic action. Mr. Darcy gallops to London and, through his timely intervention into Wickham’s marital schemes, preserves the Bennett family.  What is the feeling of Elizabeth Bennett when she realizes not only that he is a far worthier sort of man than her Lobsterback, but also that she loves him dearly? “Wait… you mean it’s HIM?” The Hardy boys’ villain also behaves decisively. Generally, he does something along the lines of knocking our heroes unconscious, trussing them like turkeys, confronting them in a scene in which he reveal their own guilt, and then unaccountably allowing the brothers to escape. The brothers are left in no doubt “whom” to denounce to the police.

            Thus it may be seen that the W...YMIH plot provides delight, excitement, and drama to readers across the genres. It’s variability and universality are its strength. I defy even Sir William Lucas to produce such a son-in-law—I mean, such a literary theory.

I issue this question to my readers : is it true that plots are universal, or can you cite any authors that you consider truly original in their plot development? 

 

Joining up with Amongst Lovely Things for a hunt through the archives. 

Head over there for "funniest posts."

Review: The Practice Effect

By David Brin

Bantam Books, 1984

The science in this sci-fi tale is soft and squishy, but the philosophy is interesting.  Dennis Nuel, a gifted young physicist of the future, is involved in exploring alternative universes. Naturally, he finds himself stranded within one through the dastardly plotting of his rival. Dennis explores his location and attempts to return home. Meanwhile his belongings behave bit oddly. Distracted by the sight of native inhabitants who appear primitive yet are possessed of some bafflingly advanced technology, Dennis does not realize for some time what the physical rules of this universe are. He catches sight of a beautiful, captive princess in flowing white, is imprisoned by a cruel and oppressive baron, and makes friends with good-hearted peasants who take his modern know-how for wizardry. There is a touch of Connecticut Yankee here. If you are willing to tolerate a dated-to-the-eighties style and some cheesy plotting, you may enjoy the light-hearted adventure.

 What interests me is the philosophical implication of the world’s premise.  The second law of thermodynamics does not apply in the same way as in our world—in this universe, objects improve with use instead of deteriorate. Tools are badly made from primitive materials, but achieve breathtaking excellence in both form and function through sufficient “practice.” The poor are hired to wear the clothing of the rich in order to “practice” rough burlap into silken embroidery, and prisoners are required to beat on the walls of the prison in order to make it thicker and stronger.

            The practice effect hints at Platonism. If garments and artifacts become increasingly beautiful just because crowds of people LOOK at them, and if objects acquire qualities that are unnecessary to the function they are performing, does this not imply that there must be some higher form or archetype to shape the evolution of the objects? In Brin's world, it is not necessary for a human to plan or choose the final "look" of an object, so how does a knife of ever-increasing sharpness know that it ought to turn into translucent crystal? How does a fashionable dress of increasing silky-comfort decide whether it should be flared or A-line? Surely there must be some sort of “ideal” knife and dress, above all knives and dresses, for this theory to work. Otherwise, the objects, though increasingly good at their tasks, would not become so beautified.

            Over-analyzer that I am, I ponder next what these implications implicate. Do they suggest that many of us, like the author, possess some unconscious belief in an ideal design—or metaphysical ideal—existing behind the scenes of life, guiding objects to greater or lesser degrees of rightness and beauty? Is beauty a universal absolute that is independent of our cultural opinions? It does indeed seem human to stop in awe before certain sights in nature and in art, yet some would argue that there is no such thing as true beauty, and that the word merely implies a subjective, unprovable judgement. What do you think?

Want another sci-fi/fantasy review? Read about possible Deconstructionism in The Eyre Affair. 

Poem: Salty Valentine

I intended to write a piece of flash fiction, but it came out as a poem instead.

Salty Valentine

                    

Salty water smooths the ridges on the bottle from the past.

“Sorry,” say the penciled words, preserved within the glass.

Sorry, says the valentine, I’m sorry, Hank, my love,

I gave your books away today and your old baseball glove.

Dirty Kamikaze with their red and rising sun,

I wish we’d never heard of war against the Jap and Hun.

I wish that if you had to die, it could have been on land         

So you could have some daisies, and not just salt and sand.

Yesterday was Valentine’s; I cried and thought of you,

I even bought this card because it seemed the thing to do.

Right now a man waits at the door to drive me into town,

He knows the story of your life and how your carrier went down.

We’re going to the courthouse; I’ll be wearing my new hat,

And I cannot help but wonder, Hank, what you would say to that.

I’m getting married—sorry, Hank, my love,

I won’t forget to think of you, alone up there above.