The Critics’ Corner

Reading “February Rain”

Sometimes the messages we receive are not what we expect or the ones we might have written, ourselves. A veteran contributor writes about “February Rain”:

Having been in a serious car accident, I immediately plunged into the opening scene only to find, instead of a story a dialogue and a bargain struck. And then?

Therein lies the frustration: it’s not that “February Rain” is bad or anything like that. Worse, it’s incomplete and unfinished.

I’m surprised you posted it as such.

Then again, what do I know?

[Gary Inbinder] I don’t think I understand the reader’s criticism. Does he want more realistic detail of a car crash? That might make sense if the nature of the accident itself were integral to the plot. However, “February Rain” is a ghost story about the aftermath of an accident and the “bargain” struck between the ghost and the badly injured surviving victim.

The dialogue between ghost and accident victim could have taken place after a plane, train, boating or skiing accident. So, I’m not sure that more realistic detail of a serious auto accident is necessary to “complete” this story, if that is in fact what is wanted.

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[Bill Bowler] I think the criticism of “February Rain” is a bit harsh, but the point is well taken. First, because of personal experience, he identified with the plot scenario and “plunged” into the opening scene. No writer could ask for more.

However, when a reader with actual experience reads a “made-up” scene in a story, the author is faced with the particular problem of avoiding false notes which such a reader will unmask at once. This was not the critic’s experience, though. He continued reading, finished the story, and wanted more (an “ending”). Again, not the worst scenario for a writer.

Now, the idea that the story is “incomplete and unfinished” is quite interesting. It’s not entirely clear what distinguishes a “complete” short story from an incomplete one or what distinguishes a short story from an excerpt of a longer work. Beginning-middle-end? That’s part of it. But a short work can contain all three and still be felt as incomplete, more like an unfinished “outline” for a longer work than a finished short story.

Does “February Rain” stand on its own as written? I thought so. “Dialog and a bargain struck,” OK. Could the story have continued on? I think so. There was sufficient characterization, setting and intrigue upon which to base further development. I would have kept reading. And so would the critic, if I understand him correctly.

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[Carmen Ruggero] I think Gary zeroed in on it. The nature of the accident is not integral to the plot. It could have been any accident. It could have been a plane headed for the Twin Towers. “February Rain” is a ghost story and as such, I think Charles James does an excellent job. He opens with a brief but very vivid introduction to establish accident and mood. The very first line of dialogue, just two paragraphs from the beginning, comes from the ghost: “You’re not going to make it out, you know.”

That line clearly tells us that the story is not about the “accident.” The line comes from a bird of prey waiting for the girl to die.

Kari-Ann and the “ghost” hitchhiker strike a “bargain.” Is the ending left open? Is it inconclusive? I don’t think so. It’s like striking a bargain with the devil or your local insurance company. You’re taken in by their promises, and they promise what you want to hear. But there’s always that small print that nobody ever reads. The ghost wants one year of life but... she may like it enough to stay.

Any story, or part of any story, can go on to become a larger piece of work. It can even take a different route. Charles could some day explore the probability of Kari-Ann haunting the ghost, demanding her life back. All kinds of possibilities are open, but this story stands alone.

I think “February Rain” didn’t meet the reader’s expectations. But that doesn’t mean the story failed, it just wasn’t what the reader wanted to read.

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[Don Webb] I asked the reader to propose one or more alternate endings to the story, but the offer was declined. That’s quite a pity: rewriting — which may include replotting — is one of the most practical forms of literary criticism there are. Our file on “Writing Pastiches” has something to say about that.

If a reader likes or dislikes anything in Bewildering Stories — not to mention anywhere else — we need to know what he’s talking about. Outside of a story contest, which is not the case here, vague appreciations don’t tell us much. Whatever you think of a work, cite chapter and verse to tell us why.

But when you propose a change, compare it with the original and see what’s been gained or lost. You may be surprised.