I know I’ve discussed some Aimee Bender works before on this blog, but I just can’t stop being in love with her writing. And her novel, The Butterfly Lampshade, includes a fantastic example of how to approach a character’s life-changing moment. And she starts in the very first chapter!
When she is only ten years old, Francie’s single mother calls her aunt, Minn, claiming that there is something wrong with Francie. As the scene plays out, it becomes obvious that Francie’s mother is not well. Though the scene doesn’t begin with Francie’s presence, her feelings are consistent throughout. This opening scene is the beginning of the event in Francie’s life that changes everything; from this moment on, everything will be different for Francie.
So, how do we approach writing a moment in time when a character’s life is about to change forever? How can we capture the sort of feeling that can’t be explained? Bender uses several techniques simultaneously to capture the ineffable moment that changes Francie’s life.
We cannot tend to her. There is something wrong with her.
What do you mean? What is wrong with her?
We do not know. Something.
She seems like such a normal little girl to me. Last visit—
It is hidden.
Did she do anything? Did she do something bad?
No.
Then what?
This back-and-forth between Elaine (Francie’s mother) and Minn occurs without any quotation marks or dialogue tags; the only indication that these words were said out loud is the break between each paragraph. This, in itself, creates a sense of distance, even considering how close Francie is to this conversation (she is listening). It has the same feeling as when a film uses echoes to indicate that what’s happening is traumatic.
The very first line, “We cannot tend to her,” uses no contractions (cannot/can’t), and “tend to” is a distanced choice of words to describe taking care of her child. The next line is ominous: “There is something wrong with her.” Once again, the lack of contractions draws the reader’s attention to the strangeness of the scene (there is/there’s). And finally, “It is hidden” merges the absence of contractions and ominous word choice (“it” is eerily vague in this instance). This piece of dialogue doesn’t sound like how people normally speak. The word choice in this exchange isn’t merely careful: it is meticulous.
Our first impression of Elaine, while also serving as a hook to keep the reader turning pages, acts as a launching point that will take us straight to the heart of the story and the heart of Francie’s trauma.
Can you put her on the phone?
No.
Is she nearby?
She’s right here. She’s looking right at me.
Can you tell her to come on the phone?
Francie. Francie, dear, your aunt Minn wants to speak to you.
Hello? Francie?
Hello.
Francie is nearby and listening to everything her mother is saying about her and is young enough to internalize her mother’s delusions. Her mother’s belief that something is wrong with her doesn’t go away, even when Francie gets older. Elaine’s fear is on full display (“She’s looking right at me”). And Francie’s first word of the entire book, her emotionless “Hello,” indicates that she is already distancing herself from the situation.
This back-and-forth-and-back between Francie, Minn, and Elaine is a quick section, but full of carefully placed subtext. We know exactly what type of book we are reading: this will be Francie’s journey of self-discovery, all stemming from this one moment and spiraling into the rest of her life.
At some point in everyone’s life, there comes a moment when everything changes. We all know what it feels like at some level. When that moment comes, the feeling that comes with it is indescribable, as if you’re seeing the world through a haze and feeling a myriad of emotions from a distance. Bender’s opening moment properly digs at what Charles Baxter refers to as “the subterranean” (Baxter, 33) in The Art of Subtext.
Without saying so outright (and who could describe Francie’s life-changing feeling outright?), Bender hints at Francie’s life-changing moment with the absence of quotation marks (creating narrative distance), careful dialogue word choice, and the reserved voice of Francie herself. What a beautifully strange moment; after reading this Bender novel, I know my life has certainly never been the same!
Rachel Sandell 