I keep writing about the stories that just “get me.” So I thought, for a change, that I would go back through the stories that we’ve read and do a bit-o-blogging on one of the stories that didn’t catch my fancy or that I predict I won't say, “OH man…” to in three more years… Maybe it would be The Enduring Chill? So what do I attribute this forgetability to?
It’s not that I didn’t enjoy reading the story. Because I did.
It’s not that there weren’t unforgettable details. There were.
It’s not that I don’t identify with the character in the story, because I do (unfortunately).
Maybe it’s that I don’t have much sympathy for Asbury. I mean, in Pale Horse, Pale Rider, I feel for Adam and Miranda. In The Lame Shall Enter First, I feel for Norton. In Parker’s Back, I want to simultaneously smack Parker upside the head and hug him with tears in my eyes, yelling at Sarah Ruth to see what’s he trying to do for her. But with Asbury, he had too much sympathy for himself for me to feel like I should dole any out.
This is going to be off-topic, but I remember reading an essay of waiting tables. (Surprisingly not a gender-based one—but for the record women do make more tips than men.) Oh, no! It was an episode of This American Life, I think. Anyway, the results of this little experiment-type thing were that the servers who were super-happy and helpful got worse tips than the ones who seemed like they were having a crumby day, but service didn’t suffer. The servers who were clearly negative, unhelpful, and who were too bummed out also got crappy tips.
Moral of the story: If a character doesn’t need my sympathy (tips), then I don’t give them. If a character is demanding that I give them my sympathy (tips) then I am resistant. It’s those characters smack in the middle, like Parker, that end up winning the “Aw…poor guy/girl!” factor in my book.