The Seven Basic Plots - Christopher Booker [166]
At its most basic level, the way we experience the unfolding of this pattern when we are following any story lies in the contrast between the moments when we sense the pressure of the dark power closing in on the central figure and those when we sense that pressure being relaxed. The pressure may be that of an actual threat to their life; or that of some other physical or spiritual imprisonment; or it may simply be the lack of any resolution to their situation, so that they feel lost and confused, cannot make sense of their surroundings and cannot see what do next. The release comes when that pressure is lifted: when the threat to their life recedes; when they escape from imprisonment; when they can again see clearly the way forward. In fact the fundamental rhythm of any story is determined precisely by this alternation between phases of constriction and liberation. And there is a common pattern to these alternations which we have seen in every type of story we have looked at.
Again and again through our sequence of plots we noted how they unfold through a basic structure consisting of five stages. The names given to these stages did not in every instance coincide, because what is happening in them may vary according to the specific demands of each type of plot. But we can now see how, on another level, there is a basic structure underlying them all, which shows the essence of how any fully resolved story takes shape.
(1) This begins with an initial phase when we are shown how the hero or heroine feel in some way constricted. This sets up the tension requiring resolution which leads into the action of the story.
(2) This is followed by a phase of opening out, as the hero or heroine sense that they are on the road to some new state or some far-off point of resolution.
(3) Eventually this leads to a more severe phase of constriction, where the strength of the dark power and the hero or heroine's limitations in face of it both become more obvious.
(4) We then see a phase where, although the dark power is still dominant, the light elements in the story are preparing for the final confrontation. This eventually works up to the nightmare climax, when opposition between light and dark is at its most extreme and the pressure on everyone involved is at its greatest.
(5) This culminates in the moment of reversal and liberation, when the grip of the darkness is finally broken. The story thus ends on the sense of a final opening out into life, with everything at last resolved.
The essential pattern underlying all this, the pattern of any properly constructed story, is therefore that of a threefold ebb-and-flow, in which the swings between the two poles become more pronounced until the climax is reached. The initial constriction and a first, limited opening out are followed by a new, more serious constriction. This is followed by a phase of preparation which culminates in the most acute constriction of all, the story's climax. This leads to the final liberation, with the release of the prize.
At such a moment we recognise, again and again, something which lies at the very root of our lifelong experience of storytelling, in all its myriad forms and guises: the sense, at the ending of a story, that only with enormous difficulty and after a long and painful struggle, something of inestimable life-giving value has at last been worked forth from a dark, imprisoning matrix which held it fast.
When we see the essence of stories in this light we are left with three overriding questions. What is this thing of priceless value which has to be won from the shadows? What is it which casts those shadows and creates that imprisonment in the first place? And, just as important as either of these, what is it that is required for this liberation to be successfully achieved?
Such are the questions we look