The Well

When you were a kid did you ever sing “There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, she had so many children she didn’t know what to do so . . . she threw them out the window, the window the second story window!”?

No? Well, then you’ll have to excuse my analogy, but I believe that Twain has his own method of getting rid of unwanted children . . . or in his case, characters.

In the break between Puddin’head Wilson and Those Extraordinary Twins, Twain relates his frustration in writing the story that he had in his head. No matter how he tried, the characters took control of the story, leaving his intended central characters in the shadows.

What does an author do with disobedient or disappearing characters?

Twain found his answer, not by throwing them out of the second story window, but by drowning them in a well. First one, then two more . . . but soon the well filled up. After all, wouldn’t the readers get a little suspicious of all these “coincidental” drownings in a family well? What’s an author to do?

For Twain, the answer was obvious—write two stories. The first, Puddin’head Wilson, would be the story commandeered by the characters; the second, Those Extraordinary Twins, would be the story he intended to write from the beginning.

So, next time I’m faced with opposition from my fictional characters (which I honestly can’t think of when this could happen, as I do not write fiction), I’ll take a lesson from Twain and drown them in the well. Once that fills up, I’ll write a supplementary novel.

Of course I could always “throw them out the window, the window the second story window . . .”

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Tragedy or Farce?

Which has more literary value, the tragedy Puddin’head Wilson or comedic farce Those Extraordinary Twins?

I’m not trying to trick you. That’s a loaded question that can be answered by you alone. Personally, I like the tragic Puddin’head Wilson far better than Those Extraordinary Twins. Why? I’m glad you asked.

First, Puddin’head Wilson is a well-rounded, intriguing, complete story. I was drawn in at the beginning (partially because of the Missouri connection) when Roxanne switched the two infants. Right from the beginning, I knew this story was going somewhere—who wouldn’t want to find out what happens when the mix-up is discovered? (If you are one of those uninterested persons, then I question your sense of curiosity.) Though Twain claims that these characters took over the original story, the characters in Puddin’head Wilson are deeper and more developed than those in Those Extraordinary Twins.

Second, enjoy reading more realistic tragedies. As I have already admitted, I enjoy pieces by Hawthorne (The Birthmark and The House of Seven Gables) and Poe. Even contemporary novels and short stories, like A Separate Peace and The Lottery, captivate my attention.

Third, I felt that Those Extraordinary Twins was a stretch. Whether comedy or tragedy, I like to sense a degree of realism in what I read. I want to believe that what is taking place could really happen. Conjoined twins whose legs change ownership on the stroke of midnight of a new week? A town who hangs one twin believing the other will live? Nonsense. There is absolutely nothing plausible, realistic or appealing about a story like that.

Whatever your  choice, I can firmly say that, in this instance, I would choose the tragedy hands-down. Maybe I like Puddin’head too much. Maybe I just got annoyed with the conjoined version of Luigi and the ridiculousness of the leg-ownership. Whatever the case, I’ve made my choice—what’s yours?

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Twins Called Parallels

Puddin’head Wilson and Those Extraordinary Twins are filled with twins—and I’m not talking about Tom and Chambers or Luigi and Angelo. I’m talking about parallels. Twain uses several parallels in his conjoined novel that challenge the reader to think about and evaluate a variety of deep topics.

·         Black & White: Twain grew up in a restrictive era in one of the most controversial regions of the country. Was slavery right or wrong? Growing up, Twain accepted the institution of slavery as fact, but as he began writing he used his pen to speak out against the world of his childhood. He addresses this controversy in Puddin’head Wilson through Roxy’s deception. From the age of eight weeks, Tom and Chambers lead each other’s lives. No one, not one person in the community outside of Roxy, knows the switch has been made. Twain blurs the distinction between Blacks and Whites in his portrayal of “Tom.”

·         Male & Female: Now, I know what you’re thinking, “how could Twain challenge the reader’s perception of male and female? Do you think I’m stupid?” No, I don’t—and neither does Twain. Like his meld of Black and White, Twain shows readers that things aren’t always what they seem. Puddin’head Wilson is sure he saw a woman leave the Judge’s house after his murder—but it wasn’t a man that was fleeing. In St. Louis, Roxy avoids  recapture and being sold “down river” by dressing as a man.

·         Slave & Master: Who is really in control—the slave or the master? In Puddin’head Wilson, it is hard to say for sure. Once again, Twain blurs conventional lines to challenge the distorted moral views of his era. The slave’s son enjoys the life and privilege of his master’s son while the privileged young man works for his meager living. Even when the novel ends and “wrong is made right” nothing really changes. How can a man, who has lived his entire life as a slave, suddenly be accepted and accept himself as his own master? The task is truly daunting.

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2-for-1

Twain’s books Puddin’head Wilson and Those Extraordinary Twins are a two-for-one deal. Literally.

First, if you read one, you must read the other. Why? Because you cannot fully understand Twain’s purpose for the books without doing so. And this reading includes the introductory material that so many readers mistakenly skim or skip over.

In Puddin’head Wilson the two Italian twins we meet are “attached at the hip” in a symbolic, not realistic, sense. The attachment between the twins is that of close friendship, which is why they choose to do every activity together—even sleep in the same room and go to political rallies opposite of personal views. They are the best of friends, they have gone through great trials together, and they could not imagine life as anything but twins. While Luigi and Angelo make interesting characters in Puddin’head Wilson, they are not main characters. Their intriguing story is set aside for that of the slave Roxy, her misplaced son “Tom,” and the town fool-turned-success Puddin’head Wilson.

The first story the reader meets is intriguing, but does not follow Twain’s original storyline. Not by a long shot. Twain remarks that the characters hijacked his story—which is why the American and national readership can know enjoy the tragedy of Puddin’head Wilson.

No, the original plot focused on a silly country girl and conjoined twins from Italy. Sure, those three characters made it into Puddin’head Wilson, but their real story is found in Those Extraordinary Twins. That, friends, is why you must read both novels.

In Those Extraordinary Twins, the small Missouri town of Dawson’s Landing is shocked (and somewhat horrified) to discover that their two newest visitors are really one . . .or at least they are one from the waist down. The whole town (excepting that silly girl) is befuddled. Is it “them” or “him”?  More mesmerizing (and perhaps disturbing) are the hands that feed the wrong face and the legs that switch ownership at the precise ending of a week. In the comedic half of the novel, Twain focuses on introducing the reader to the “horrific events” in the life of conjoined twins.

Whether you like Puddin’head Wilson or Those Extraordinary Twins better is completely your choice, but remember, when you read one, you must read the other. Like Luigi and Angelo, they are a two-for-one deal.

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Twain's "Poor Richard's"

Ignorant readers are easily preyed upon. In 1732, Benjamin Franklin introduced Poor Richard’s Almanack to the unsuspecting American public. The almanac addressed the typical prophecies concerning the weather and astrological signs, but Franklin slipped short bits of wit and wisdom between the calendar entries. The American public took to Franklin’s proverbs like a pig takes to mud. Even now, nearly 400 years later, American quote the timeless truths: “Early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” “A penny saved is a penny earned,” and “God helps them that help themselves.”

With sayings just as witty, but possibly not as timeless, Twain uses Puddin’head Wilson’s Calendar to insert his own philosophical proverbs into the American culture.

Tacked onto the beginning of each chapter are quotes from the Calendar that immortalize Twain’s sarcastic wit and open cynicism toward the human race. So, sit back and enjoy a laugh as I share with you some of my favorites from Puddin’head Wilson’s Calendar for 1894.

January: “Nothing so needs reform as other people’s habits.”
{I cannot count how many times I have thought the same thing—don’t people know that my way is best?}

April 1^st: “This is the day upon which we are reminded of what we are the other three hundred and sixty-four.”
{Can’t you picture him with one eyebrow cocked and a smirking twitch at his moustache uttering these words of wisdom in his tenored Southern drawl?}

July 4^th:  “Statistics show we lose more fools on this day than in all the other days of the year put together. This proves, by the number left in stock, that one Fourth of July per year is now inadequate, the country has grown so.”
{This quote brings back hilarious family memories—including the year I finally scrapped up the courage to hold the Roman Candles. I think I jumped four feet in the air when the first projectile left the cardboard tube in my hand. I dropped the still-active firecracker on the ground as it sent off the remaining six or seven cartridges. I don’t think I’d ever seen my dad and brothers move so quickly . . .}

August: “Why is it that we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a funeral? Is it because we are not the person involved?”
{What a way to think about life! As a Christian, I should be looking forward to “going home.” But as a human, I am all too attached to those God brings into my life . . . }

October: “This is one of the particularly dangerous months to speculate stocks in. The others are July, January, September, April, November, May, March, June, December, August, and February.”

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Twain vs. Stowe

In Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Stowe introduces possibly the most well-known bi-racial characters in literature. While she conforms her Black and White characters to the conventions of the time (Blacks speak with the garbled language of the uneducated while Whites speak with clear and proper English), her bi-racial characters, specifically seen in George (a mulatto) and Eliza (a quadroon) Harris, present somewhat of a conundrum. Eliza  and George both speak with the perfect, flowing, flowery language used to represent Whites. Is Stowe’s depiction of these slaves accurate or has she romanticized reality in order to sell her story?

Mark Twain, on the other hand, depicts his bi-racial characters (who are “less-Black” than Eliza and George) with the broken, garbled language of the other slaves. Roxanne, though only one-sixteenth Black, speaks no differently than the slaves with a more solid heritage.

So, which author is properly depicting the bi-racial slaves? Is it Stowe, the little lady with a message, or Twain, the sarcastic humorist, who can give the reader a realistic picture of life in the 1830-50s?

While I thoroughly enjoyed Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I must admit, my confidence lies with the crass and sarcastic Twain.

Why? Let’s look at the lives of the authors.

Stowe was born and raised in the North—in fact, she never actually lived in a state that allowed slavery. Her story is based on a belief and written from testimonies and distant observation. She never actually experienced or observed the brutality of slavery. Does that make her story less pertinent or her cause less just? No, but it may mean it is less realistic.

Twain was born in a state torn in half by the slave issue. Though it entered the Union as a slave state, Missouri citizens were unsettled concerning the slavery issue. In The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Twain creates a fictional story with factual basis. Huck’s greatest struggle rests on his belief concerning Blacks: are they people or aren’t they? He boldly lays aside his life for his belief that the slaves are the same as anybody else and deserve the same freedom.

Kinda sounds like an uneducated version of Stowe’s thesis, huh?

But Twain’s depiction of the bi-racial characters is in direct opposition to Stowe’s—how can this be? The difference exists because Twain drew from personal experience. He wrote of the life he heard, smelt, and felt as a young boy. His dialectical representation can be trusted because he doesn’t use it because of conventional beliefs—he uses the native language of common people to create realistic characters, with all their quirks, that will forever represent the small, river town of Hannibal, Missouri.

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Nature vs. Nurture

Puddin’head Wilson presents an age-old question: which is more affective to child rearing, nature or nurture?

The advocates of the nature argument say that the child is what he is because of his heritage and circumstances. A child becomes a thief because of his heritage or ethnicity or because he was driven to do so by circumstance. The child’s attributes are inherent. In Twain’s day, slaves were characterized as troublesome and mischievous because of their heritage and because of their circumstantial environment of being a slave (nevermind that they had no opportunity to change their circumstances due to the slave system).

The advocates of the nurture argument propose that a child is what he is because of how he is treated. The nurturing hand of his mother (father, grandmother, or guardian) determine the characteristic outcome of the child. The child’s attributes are learned. In complete contrast to their assumptions of slaves, the Whites of the 19^th Century believed that the good and bad attributes of “free men” (generally middle to upper-class Whites) were learned from a variety of influences. If a man became a drunk it was because he learned to do so. If he became a good, compassionate master, it was because his father was one.

Twain challenges the reader’s stance concerning nature and nurture when Roxy “saves” her son by switching him with her master’s son. Which argument is Twain defending? Does he support nature or nurture?

In my own humble opinion, he supports neither—and yet he supports both.

The outcome of the lives of ‘Tom’ and ‘Chambers’ can be defended by both parties. According to the era’s assumptions of nature, ‘Tom’ behaves like a thieving, mischievous slave and ‘Chambers’ embodies the  . . . uh . . . humility of his aristocratic ancestors. And yet, the boys’ nurture must receive some credit—would ‘Tom’ have become a drunken gambler if he had never been to Yale? Would ‘Chambers’ have been as strong had he not fought for ‘Tom’? Did the constant rebuke and reminder of his status make ‘Chambers’ humble?

While studying education, I have come to a similar conclusion. The answer is not nature OR nurture, but nature AND nurture. The two work together to create a man. One cannot be separated from the other. I am who I am because of my heritage, circumstance (environment), and the instruction and models of those authorities in my life.

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Clemons' Frankenstein

While sitting at a party with her husband and friends, Mary Shelley created the world’s most well known and beloved monster: Frankenstein’s monster. Since Frankenstein’s exclamation “It’s alive!” critics have disputed the humanity of the creature that has become a household name.

But this post isn’t about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

On November 30, 1835, a young lad was born in the little Mississippi River town of Hannibal, Missouri. Samuel L. Clemons grew up dreaming of life on the river. As a young man he fulfilled his dream by becoming a riverboat captain on the Mississippi. For Sam, life moved with the ever-changing flow of the river. The river was his life source and passion. But the river was also the inception of Clemons’ own monster.

After the death of his younger brother, Clemons left Hannibal and the Mississippi for the booming West. Out west, Clemons revived his writing talent and published several short stories in the local paper, the most famous of which is “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County.” As his popularity increased, Clemons created his alter ego—his penname—Mark Twain.

The monster Clemons created displayed a will of its own. Just as the monster Frankenstein created by grafting together dead body parts. The creator no longer had reign over his creation. Frankenstein spent the bulk of his existence chasing the shadow of his monster. So much so, that our culture attributes the name ‘Frankenstein’ to the creation, not the creator.

Such is the life of Samuel Clemons after the introduction of the bold, sarcastic, and brilliant Mark Twain. Though Twain’s works creatively retell the memories and adventures of one Samuel Clemons, no one remembers the old riverboat captain. In fact, I would go as far to say that most of the world would be stumped if asked, “who is Samuel Clemons?”

Samuel Clemons struggled against Mark Twain’s overwhelming popularity for the rest of his life. No one cared about Sam Clemons, the family man—they wanted to know Mark Twain the humorist and brilliant author of common American life. 


Clemons created his monster and spent his life reeling in the shadows of Mark Twain.

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