Between the lines

Why do some fictional characters have such a powerful grip on our imagination?

So, Atticus Finch turned out to be a racist so-and-so. Now, who could have seen that coming? Not me, not the many millions of other readers who loved the upright, righteous lawyer of To Kill A Mockingbird. No, not even his adoring daughter, Jean Louise Finch, better known to us as Scout, who suffers a full-scale nervous breakdown when she discovers the 'truth' about the father she hero-worshipped.

What could Harper Lee have been thinking, when she turned the wise, gentle and just Atticus Finch of Mockingbird into just another Southern supremacist who flirted with the Klan in his youth and now attends 'Council Meetings' in Watchman to discuss how to keep the 'Negroes' in their place as desegregation gathers strength?

By the time you read this, much newsprint will have been spent on articles, columns and book reviews, dissecting the strange and disturbing path Atticus' character takes from one book to another. You will have heard from those who insist that Go, Set A Watchman was nothing more than a first draft of To Kill A Mockingbird and should never have seen the light of day. You will have read about how the dark undertones of Atticus' racism were always present in Mockingbird, if only we had bothered to look. You may even followed sly suggestions that the new book was not entirely Harper Lee's work. And you will probably have made up your mind about Go, Set A Watchman after reading it yourself.

So, I am not going to bore you my views about Harper Lee and her two books (except to say that while Mockingbird remains a classic, Watchman is an interesting case study of how great literature comes into being).

Instead, I'd like to talk about something that has intrigued me for many years now. What is it about certain fictional characters that we invest so much of ourselves in them? Why do we get so involved in their entirely imaginary emotional lives? And why do we feel so cheated, even angry, when they don't live up to the image we carry of them in our heads?

Atticus Finch is only the most recent example. But there are many other fictional characters who exercise as great a control on our imagination. And we feel outraged when they are presented as something entirely different without our consent. It seems like a betrayal of the worst kind - because it is.

Yes, yes, we've all heard that trite line. The book belongs to the author, as do the characters in it. And it is for her/him to do with them as she/he sees fit. But I beg to differ. I truly believe that the act of reading turns the book into something that belongs to every reader as well. And when authors turn rogue (yes, Harper Lee, I'm looking at you!) it feels as if they spitting in the face of every single person who has loved their books and fallen in love with their characters.

In the case of Watchman, at least, you could argue that it is the author herself who has done the dirty on us. But it is even more annoying when the reinvention is the work of a new author/adapter who has decided to mess with classic pieces by writing a sequel, a spin-off, or just doing a simple rewrite. (Here's an idea: if you are so creative, why don't you just make up your own stories peopled by your own characters, instead of ruining other people's imaginary worlds?)

Much as I loved Longbourn, with its central conceit of telling the story of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice from the viewpoint of the servants of the Bennet household, I was revolted by the little plot twist that gave the entirely harmless (if woolly-headed) Mr Bennet an illegitimate child. Now, what had the poor man done to deserve this kind of besmirching of his character?

I feel much the same way when I see some of Agatha Christie's Poirot mysteries re-imagined for television. A much-loved book, with its cast of familiar characters, is transformed into something entirely different by the sudden inclusion of a lesbian angle in the mix (poor old Agatha would be spinning in her grave if she got wind of this!). Not that I have anything against lesbians (some of my best friends...etc. etc.) but they are not a part of Christie's universe. If you want a murder mystery with a lesbian twist, then feel free to write your own.

And then, there's the whole Game of Thrones imbroglio (if you haven't seen the last series or read all the books, be warned: spoilers ahead!). You read a book in which sweet little Sansa Stark escapes from Kings Landing and ends up at the Eyrie with Littlefinger. Meanwhile, a girl is tricked out to look like Arya Stark and married to Ramsay Bolton. And then, one day, you settle down to watch the TV series. And what do you see? Sansa Stark, in the flesh, married to Ramsay Bolton!

So, to go back to my original question, why do we feel so invested in certain fictional characters? Why do their fates so absorb us? Why do we feel outraged on their behalf when their creators do the dirty on them? Why does Atticus Finch turning out to be a racist upset us so?

Is it because we feel the certainties of our world being turned upside down? Or are we just big babies who can't bear to grow up and see the world in shades of grey rather than in stark black and white?

Book your break

Here’s a list of cracking reads for when you finally take off on your summer vacation

So, we’re into the month of May, that time of year when our thoughts inexorably veer towards that most-longed-for vacation: the summer break. But banish that glazed look in your eyes for a moment. I am not going to lecture you about how to get the perfect beach body or hold forth on how best to pack those long dresses that take you effortlessly from day to night. Nor am I going to dazzle with all the names of the must-visit destinations that you simply must visit. And I certainly have no advice on how to get there, or what to do and where to eat once you do.

What I have for you instead is something that is simply vital for every holiday: a list of books to take along and dip into as you sit for hours on an airplane, sunbathe on the beach, relax by the pool, or laze in bed. And no, I am not going to mention the usual suspects. By now, I am sure anyone who has any interest in reading has gobbled up Gone Girl, The Girl On The Train, or whatever the bestseller du jour is. 

Instead I present, in no particular order of importance, a short list of all the authors that I love, and whose books you might enjoy reading during your break. (The fact that they are all women is just a happy accident.)

• Nora Ephron: There is no way you can possibly go wrong with Nora Ephron. If you enjoy fiction, you can kick back with the classic that started it all, Heartburn, the witty and sometimes darkly humorous chronicle of the end of a marriage. If you prefer non-fiction, you can immerse yourself in Ephron’s sparkling essays like the one that explains why I Feel Bad About My Neck. No matter what book you choose, your can depend on Ephron to keep you suitably entertained (not to mention entranced). 

• Harper Lee: Now that the reclusive author is about to publish her second novel, Go Set A Watchman, a sequel to her first that came out 55 (yes, that’s right, 55) years ago, it may be time to pick up your tattered old copy of To Kill A Mockingbird and refresh your memories of Atticus Finch and his daughter, Scout. You can then catch up with the adult Scout in the new book as she journeys back to visit her father in the new book (which was actually written before To Kill A Mockingbird but then put away and forgotten).

• Elizabeth Jane Howard: She is probably the most underrated novelist of her time, her fame eclipsed by her one-time husband, Kingsley Amis. But don’t let that deter you. Howard is a masterly storyteller and her tetralogy of novels, five books making up the Cazalet Chronicles, tracing the life of an upper-class English family over three generations, is a fantastic read.

• Kate Atkinson: She does family drama too, but so very differently. There is sometimes a gentle elegiac quality to her writing, which draws into you into the story, but it is always leavened with wit and humour. And sometimes there is a darkly brooding atmosphere that can be truly unsettling. If at all possible, try and read her trilogy of crime novels featuring ex-policeman Jackson Brodie, in order.

• Jodi Picoult: As regular readers of this column will know, she is an old favourite of mine and a reliable standby when it comes to page-turners that don’t demand too much of you (my definition of a holiday read, when it comes to that). Her latest, Leaving Time, was a bit patchy but if you haven’t read some of her earlier books – Change Of Heart, Perfect Match, Keeping Faith – you are in for a treat.

• Philippa Gregory: If historical fiction is your thing, then Gregory is your woman. And her novels set in the Tudor and Plantagenet period are quite unique for being written from the perspective of her principal women characters, who have been quite ignored by history. But whether it is Elizabeth Woodville or Elizabeth of York, they all come alive in her books, as fully-rounded, fleshed-out characters who influence the course of medieval English history from their vantage points behind the throne.

• Hilary Mantel: We’re still in historical fiction territory with her two latest bestsellers, Wolf Hall and Bring Up The Bodies. But Mantel’s is a far more literary take on the subject than Gregory’s, though she manages to write page-turners just the same. She is the first person to tell the turbulent story of Henry VIII and his ill-fated love affair with Anne Boleyn from the perspective of the much-reviled Thomas Cromwell. And it is entirely a tribute to her writing skills that you begin to have a sneaking admiration for a man who was, by all historical accounts, a thoroughly nasty piece of work.

• Liane Moriarty: I came to discover her late, after she had written four books, but it was her fifth, the international bestseller, The Husband’s Secret, that really got me hooked. It begins with a suburban Australian wife stumbling upon a letter written by her husband with the exhortation that it only be read after his death. He is very much alive, but can she possibly resist opening the envelope? Read it to find out. Meanwhile I will be busy, delving into Moriarty’s new book, Big Little Lies, which I have earmarked for my own vacation.