OPENING INCIDENT. Emphasis falls at once on the society which the hero
disconcerts. The correctness of living, the tranquil setting, provide
the formal serenity he is to break. “Lucien forgot himself completely,”
note the effect of the impeccable chauffeur’s exclamation as testimony
to the “demon boy.” The reader, startled with the characters into
attention, catches the epithet up with interest and expectation.
Are the recounted escapades and the antecedent scene necessary? or,
in the wealth of instance which follows, does the recountal seem
extensive? Is the relaxation so effected pleasant? Does the rehearsal
of the antecedent episode slow the tempo and hold the story back
unnecessarily? Besides revealing Buster, the material permits the
cousin’s mental distress to accumulate in effect and allows time for
the race to and from Boston.
Within the economy of the first picture, Buster’s manner, the striking
factor of his aspect, and his adolescent growth are suggested. Notice
that the following scene enlarges the same points. Notice that in this
scene and the others between Buster and his aunts, Buster does the
talking. The aunts interpose, occasionally, protest and reasoning. Do
the scenes lack excitement other than Buster’s excitement? There is
not the vigorous clash of speech with speech; for that, the characters
are too well mannered. If the struggle wants intensity, is there
compensation in the naturalness of the futile boyish tirading? Buster
seems to fume?
The trouble at the bakery serves to remind the reader that Buster, in
the apparent lull, is intent on his own purposes. It serves, also,
to divert the reader’s mind from the preparation for the aeroplane
incident.
The Bazaar at Dawn Towers: The personnel for this scene is usual; there
are the usual élite and the climber from the West. (Notice the social
status of Oklahoma and Montana!) The futurist palace is a relieving
detail.
The incident caps the social crimes of Buster; it provides the climax
for part one of the story, playing off the vitality of the boy’s
contention against the vanities and half-sincerity of his Aunt’s set.
Like Buster’s passionate repetition, “I’ve got to know,” it is dramatic
forecast. Here is the significance of the story: youth struggling with
convention for its destiny.
The latter half of the story is fulfilment and realization.
Does the timing of this part--“and yesterday at dusk”--injure the
dramatic reality? The writer suggests this is an account, a diary, a
rehearsal.
EPISODIC PLOT. The incidents of the plot do not progress logically,
as steps in action having a consequential relation. But they are
instances making the same character point, having this unity. In the
important scenes the events are held in combination further by their
centralization about three characters: Dr. Lake, Miss Edith, and Buster
stand out at beginning, climax and end.
Account for the animosity against Dr. Lake in the boy’s tone and the
story tone. Does the writer in her characterization of him caricature
the doctor? (the emphasis on his eminence and his shirt-front in the
opening scenes, on his fright in the climax scene). Contrast his
appearance in the two parts of the story; his self-importance in the
earlier scenes with his eventual sacrifice. The traditions reveal in
the crisis their underlying sanction. Does his geniality in the final
scene convince?
Cousin Edith, if typical, is set apart from her environment by a
quality of humor and by her angle--as sympathetic observer of Buster.
Observe that Buster feels the difference in her character. Is there
a note of affectation in her manner? Notice that, though she is
influenced by the aviator’s tirade, she is sufficiently herself to
remark his manners. Does Buster work in her the magic of complete
conviction? Is her wordy “gush” when she first sees the unconscious boy
natural in tone and sentiment? She sees, remember, the “death-like”
face, at the sight of which “the limp, shivering doctor pulled himself
together with all his weary might.” Her words “baby” the hero--does one
“tuck” a brawny fist under his cheek?
Buster is pictured most completely in his unconsciousness. Do the
stubborn chin there and the sulky under-lip of the first scenes
indicate an unpleasant willfulness? Offset this impression by details
in the summary of his escapades which suggest a sympathetic kindness.
Does he show in the struggle with his Aunts a personal animosity?
Is the democracy revealed in the sailor episode typical of his
age? Compare Aunt Charlotte’s speech for German methods with the
Brigadier General’s on the making of the hero. Do the aviator and the
ambulance-driver in their recognition of him reinforce qualities in
Buster which are representative?
“Concerning ‘Buster,’ he isn’t the portrait of any real flesh-and-blood
boy. But he tries to be the composite portrait of the fourteen-year-olds
that we all know, and most of us own by ties of blood,--the tempestuous
darling, the pride and the despair of us. As for the story itself, it
is a well-meant but probably futile attempt to convince the Average
Parent,--to say nothing of the average Aunt Charlotte and Cousin
Edith,--that the abysmal differences between the Busters of to-day and
their own generation are not so many conclusive proofs that Buster
and his tribe are essentially inferior. On the contrary! For to my
eyes, the rising generation is a rising one, with a vengeance, and
o’ertops its predecessors with a disconcerting splendor. So the story
tries to make this conviction clear,--and very likely fails. For one
of my nearest and dearest was grieving only the other day, because
her own particular Buster insists that his life’s ambition is to be
a fire chief. ‘When we want him to be a corporation lawyer, like his
father!’... As to definitions--could there be a compact definition of
the short-story? I doubt it. It’s a universal experience, put into a
duodecimo edition, but it’s a thousand other things, besides.
“Some day, some one with authority will answer, I hope, this question:
Should the short-story writer be a writer of short-stories and nothing
more? Or--should he write stories when and where he can, in the
intervals of other, far more absorbing, tasks?”--_Katharine Holland
Brown._