Smyser Inkblot #2: Fiction is Fatal to Prejudice
During my Master’s program, I came to a realization about much of my long-form writing. My characters, usually a group, move from one place to another. Now you may be thinking: “Isn’t that every story except for bottle episodes?” Yes, but instead of just changing set pieces, my characters move across different cultures as well. They’re travelers. They arrive at a new place, learn about its customs and lifestyles if it’s a town or learn how to survive different conditions if it’s wilderness, and then they deal with the new catalyst for conflict. And then, in a very Odyssean (is that a word?) fashion, they move on to the next new place.
But I can’t help but question why I have done this in so many different iterations. (Many of which will not see the light of day because they were early attempts at novel writing.) Of course I like to construct different places and cultures. Worldbuilding is fun. But I think it is deeper than just that, especially when so many of these stories have a similar theme. As Mark Twain once said, “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” My characters discover the world and ideally destroy their prejudices or misconceptions about the distant lands they’ve only heard rumors about. And I was doing this subconsciously for so long, until I wasn’t.
I like my characters to amble about because I like to see how different environments shape people. Mountainous people develop their language differently than desert people. Language, in turn, changes how people interact and solve problems. An island nation has different hardships than a volcanic one. And those differences fascinate me. Those hardships fuel the conflict I want to write about.
In my novel, The Chestmaker, the protagonist Archie starts his journey in difficult conditions. Life in the Tyro Archipelago is harsh. Not torture or servitude, but bordering on becoming one of those. He lives on the small strip of land that is available between an endless ocean and a dangerous bayou. Additionally, Archie has grown up with his home losing its personality and way of life. He blames it on certain groups of people and their beliefs because that is what he was told to believe. Now take that character and thrust him into adventure where he can face his prejudices head on. Hopping from island to island, he learns directly how little he ever knew about the world.
An outsider notices things that the locals take for granted. Customs that seem perfectly ordinary to one culture appear bizarre to another. Sometimes those assumptions lead to conflict. Other times they lead to understanding. A traveler has the unique privilege of asking, "Why do you do it this way?" And if they're willing to listen, they often leave with the unsettling realization that there isn't always a single right answer.
Cultural collision is fascinating to me. Every destination becomes an opportunity for my characters to have a belief challenged—whether that belief concerns another people, themselves, or the world as a whole.
Looking back, it’s funny that I started writing these kinds of stories without being much of a traveler myself. I’ve always wanted to, but it’s cost prohibitive. And so I’ve come to understand that reading this kind of fiction when one is unable to truly travel the world can do something similar to prejudice if one is willing to let that happen.
Perhaps that's why I keep returning to journeys. Epic conclusions are interesting, but they aren't really the point. The point is that every mile traveled is another chance for a character to become someone who sees the world with a little more nuance than when they began. I thought I was writing adventures. In reality, I was writing about curiosity.
Keep being curious.
JL Smyser
