When writers write about humans, whether real or fictional, they often turn them into a product not found in nature. They load the character with tics and behavioural mechanisms and traits they do or don't like, but what they end up with is not a human being. It's something between a caricature sketch and one of those party-trick 'impersonations' people do, like holding up two fingers and shaking imaginary jowls to indicate Richard Nixon. It's annoying, and not really helpful.

What you really require from a character study, real or fictional, is a sense of who the person thinks they are.

Poirot was an extraordinary looking little man. He was hardly more than five feet, four inches, but carried himself with great dignity. His head was exactly the shape of an egg, and he always perched it a little on one side. His moustache was very stiff and military. The neatness of his attire was almost incredible. I believe a speck of dust would have caused him more pain than a bullet wound. Yet this quaint dandified little man who, I was sorry to see, now
limped badly, had been in his time one of the most celebrated members of the Belgian police. As a detective, his flair had been extraordinary, and he had achieved triumphs by unravelling some of the most baffling cases of the day.

Agatha Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles

Now, I would be the last person to call Mrs Christie insightful: she's far too much a prisoner of her time, place, and social class for that. But she was a successful storyteller. One reason for this was her recognition that for humans, it is necessary to have a sense of identity. They need to know what defines them in their world. But that sense of self-definition can take a variety of forms.

In Christie's stories, Poirot's sense of identity is hinted at, but never clearly defined, because we always see him as the 'outsider'. This is because, no matter what she thought she was doing, Mrs Christie was unable to imagine a world of readers who wouldn't automatically interpret her stories from the British point of view of the interwar period. This makes her work particularly interesting as an artefact.

The reason so many actors have found it possible to portray Poirot is that hint of a sense of identity in the character. They just decide for themselves what it is, some well, some badly. Then they play to that sense of self. Which explains why David Suchet's Poirot seems like a real person, and Peter Ustinov's does not. Kenneth Branagh's was too real: Christie fans recoiled in horror.

What gives people their sense of identity? A number of things, depending on what's important to you.

• Position in society.
• Ethnic, national, or cultural affinity.
• Gender.
• Sexual orientation.
• Role within a family.
• Profession, skill set, avocation.
• Personal possessions.
• Etc.

If a person loses their profession as a result of injury, for example, it may precipitate a personal crisis. A parent may experience feelings of insecurity as a result of children leaving home, which changes the family dynamic. Personal discoveries about sexual orientation or gender can lead to profound crises. All of those things can be part of a person's sense of identity but don't need to be. If they are, the person may lose control when one of those identity markers changes.

The most pitiful identity markers are those based on consumer choices. Humans shouldn't base their identity on whether they enjoy this or that music, shop at this or that clothing store, or support this or that political idea. But they do. Increasingly in the 21st Century, people in Western 'Civilisation' base their sense of self on what they buy, who they watch and listen to, and what they push the 'Like' button for. It's horrible. They're impoverished by this, and usually don't realise it.

He will give away all robes and hides and so he shall own covering neither for lodge nor for body. He will give away all horses and so make himself foot-going. And next, he will give away his feet, to the final pair of moccasins.

He will give away lances, bows, knives, every weapon he owns but his hands. Truly, he will give until nothing exists for him but his own naked person. And then he shall discard whoever, whatever, outside himself influences this naked person.

I shall live with my bareness, the warrior had told himself, somewhere beyond view of camp until I learn the meaning of pure, pure-anything.

Ruth Beebe Hill, Hanta Yo, p 523

This novel, which explores the philosophy of the Lakota Sioux, is very concerned with the main character's sense of identity. Abhleza sets himself many personal challenges in order to 'find himself'. What he's looking for is a sense of self that is not dependent on social status or worldly possessions. It's an interesting take on the issue.

It doesn't really matter what conclusions you draw about the people you're describing. That's up to you. You're the writer, and it's your page and your opinion. But remember: whoever that person is, they base their sense of identity on something. Figure out what it is, and you're halfway to understanding them.

Writing Right with Dmitri Archive

Dmitri Gheorgheni

21.10.19 Front Page

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