Ed Protzel

creating complex characters caught up in challenging times

The Book Title: Doorway to the Story

Strangers On A Bridge.jpg

Saw the Steven Spielberg film “Bridge of Spies,” this weekend, which vividly reproduced the paranoia of the post-WWII/Cold War era. The Soviets were hardliners, no doubt;, but we had many of our own hard cases, too. Both the U. S. and the Soviets had a long slug to victory over the Nazis. And, naturally, hardliners in both camps were in the ascendancy after VE Day. That’s the way it works.

As a writer, reflecting on “Bridge” got me thinking of the importance of titles, both of movies and books. That, of course, led me to thinking about the title of my own forthcoming novel, The Lies That Bind (TouchPoint Press, November 2015): a dark, ironic, and twisted tale of intrigue in the antebellum South.

I’ve been asked by other writers how I came up with the title, and I can honestly say it was a major headache–until it appeared in a flash of light. The challenge was how to encapsulate the story’s many elements, overall mood, themes, and time and place. Do you try to elicit mood or do you get specific?

That’s a lot to pack into a few words, and still try to entice a reader to wonder about its meaning and to pick the book off the shelf.

I haven’t yet read Strangers on a Train (the book by James B. Donovan the movie was based on), but I’m guessing the “Bridge” in the movie title relates not only to the physical Glienicke Bridge between East and West Berlin, but to the connection bridged between the mutually hostile East and West that brought about the story’s humanitarian Powers/Able/student prisoner exchange. On a human level, “Bridge” also alludes to the respect that developed between Able, the Soviet spy, and Donovan, the lawyer reluctantly representing him, as men of principle, without painting either as evil or enemies in the Cold War.

A good title focuses on a book’s central theme.
Hanks (as Donovan) argued artfully and logically not to put Abel to death so that he might be used a future pawn if an American were captured. Donovan was an insurance wheeler-dealer, a regular guy, not a political hardliner, and diplomacy won out over vengeance and death. Hey, we’re still trying to learn that lesson today, right?

My book title, The Lies That Bind, focuses the reader on the story’s central themes, too. But unlike the phrase “the ties that bind,” which has a positive connotation, Lies shows the dark side of life in Southern slave society, with people held together through deceit, bound by falsehoods: injustice, subterfuge, and outright intimidation. See synopsis.

 Yet, though the novel’s characters must live lies and live with lies, oppression can never be omnipotent. The opposite is true, in fact. This story shows that the only way we can fulfill our highest aspirations is to find the truth deep in our own hearts. It’s a battle we never stop fighting within ourselves.

In a macro sense, too, The Lies That Bind shows that a society built on falsehood and injustice is fated for an upheaval that will bring it crashing down. If you doubt that,  just look at the former Soviet Union and its puppet, East Germany, which “Bridge of Spies” presents so well. And, historically, regarding The Lies That Bind, what was the result of the slavery system? I think my novel dramatizes it pretty clearly.

See you next week. Good reading!

Interpreting the Ambivalent, Conflicted Harper Lee

Having just completed my read of Harper Lee’s Go Set a Watchman, I was not surprised to learn of the similarities between her fictionalized Atticus Finch father-figure (in Watchman and in the later-published but earlier-set To Kill a Mockingbird) and her real-life father, newspaperman A.C. Lee (see the AP’s Jay Reeves’ report in the Christian Science Monitor).

In Watchman, Lee’s massive polemics against father-figure Atticus felt like angry, youthful rebellion against her real father, A. C., who as noted was part racist Watchman-Atticus and part honorable Mockingbird-Atticus.

In the AP report, A. C. Lee, editor and owner of their hometown paper, The Monroe Journal, from 1929 to 1949, did in fact support segregation, was nostalgic for the vanquished Confederacy, and was against proposed (failed) federal legislation against lynching. Still, he editorialized against lynching and displayed front page stories on its horrors. He also published positive stories on the local black community, unusual for deep South white newspapers.

It appears Mockingbird, having been written second, may reflect Harper Lee’s emotional reconciliation with her racist but otherwise honorable father, as perhaps evidenced in Watchman’s conclusion and made right in her much-loved To Kill a Mockingbird.

A daughter’s dilemma in any era.

Taken together, Lee’s two novels appear to express her own highly charged, mixed feelings about her father—as well as her disgust with the South’s racist Jim Crow ties to the past and its resistance to Civil Rights.

For me, I was left with my own disturbing sense of ambivalence about Atticus, the character I thought I knew and admired from Mockingbird.

If only we could make right our disappointments with a re-write in real life.

What’s your take on Lee, on rectifying disappointment? Can art help heal the wounds of the past?

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Note: Like Harper Lee, my Southern novel, The Lies That Bind, confronts racism, sexism and class distinctions in antebellum Mississippi.

Watch for its November release and how to order!

November Release for "The Lies That Bind"

Great news! I just learned that my novel, "The Lies That Bind," is scheduled for publication this November (TouchPoint Press)!! We'll post the book cover as soon as possible and let you know where you'll be able to order it.

It's been a long time coming. I've been living with these characters for years and feel I know them personally. I hope you'll feel the same when you read the book.

Stay tuned :)

Introducing Big Josh: the Undervalued African-American

Each semester I have the privilege of teaching a writing course for college juniors and seniors at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. This past semester’s was an evening class attended by so-called “non-traditional students,” meaning I had more students who were a bit older, worked full time, and had full family responsibilities, including wives or husbands, children, and even grandchildren to support. And although school is quite a drag on their limited time and energies, they push ahead to get their degrees.

A good percentage of the students were African-American, and their personal sacrifices and drive to excel would open the eyes of any citizen whose perception of them was formed basically through the lens of local newscasts, sensationalized headlines or talk radio, and little to no actual interaction with them as individuals (more in future blogs). On top of their other responsibilities, the adults in my class devote much time to their churches and charities, to helping others when some of them could use a helping hand themselves. Is it any wonder I so greatly admire their work ethic and perseverance in their efforts to better themselves and their families?

"Uncle Jim" Lawson

Big Josh: Giving Credit Where Due
One of the major characters in my novel, The Lies That Bind (to be published this year by TouchPoint Press), is Big Josh, a man of great heart and intelligence in his fifties who has lived his entire life as a slave. In one of the novel’s major plot streams, Big Josh and his group of enslaved men, hopelessly stranded in the Mississippi wilds, take great risks to form a secret partnership with the visionary charlatan Durksen Hurst to build an egalitarian plantation they will call Dark Horse. White and black share the work—and the deprivation—of building Dark Horse. However, there are limits to well-meaning equality in a society structured to be inherently unequal.

Having run the plantation back home, Big Josh is the real strength and brains behind the success of the farming side of their plantation scheme. He is a deep thinker and peacemaker within the ill-fitting partnership, a man with a tragic past (how many slaves who survived didn't have tragic pasts?). But with Durk serving as figurehead "white master," the town's admiration, and fear, are bestowed solely on Durk—whose only farming experience was busting up clods for his drunk-of-a-daddy. Big Josh and the other partners are virtually invisible. Ironically, Durk, whose incompetence is matched only by his naivete and blind ambition, is the one who puts their endeavor at greatest peril.

This dichotomy exposes one of the deeper meanings of the novel, and one of the currents in our society today. The antebellum South’s wealth was based on agriculture, but the wealthiest elite made their fortunes on the backs of slave labor. And slavery was not a benevolent institution. Don’t the bonded laborers deserve some credit—much less some remuneration—for the South’s extraordinary successes? But whose statues and portraits grace the region?

In one of the greatest American novels, William Faulkner’s Absalom, Absalom!, Thomas Sutpen builds Sutpen’s Hundred on the backs of slave labor; yet Sutpen becomes the legend. Isn’t this skewed slant symbolic of the antebellum South? Why shouldn’t Big Josh—or so many like him—get at least a public mention? As in my novel, slaves would have been satisfied to simply not be slaves, allowed to eat what they grew, to be warm when they could earn enough to buy a blanket, to live in a house they built for themselves—and to not live in constant fear.

But 700,000 men, white and black, would have to die before slaves could even come close to achieving that minimum condition. And even today, a skewed view of the African-American community by too many continues to hold them back.


Next Up: A campaign to require a disclaimer on hate speech.

To be announced soon: Publication date of Ed Protzel’s novel, The Lies That Bind, a darkly ironic antebellum mystery/drama set in Turkle, Mississippi, 1859-61, (TouchPoint Press, 2015).


Ed Protzel’s views, opinions, and ideas expressed in this blog are his alone. Blog copyrighted by Ed Protzel © 2015.

Introducing Devereau French, the other main protagonist in The Lies that Bind

In my last blog, we met Durk Hurst, aka “Dark Horse,” the main protagonist in my darkly ironic antebellum South mystery/drama, The Lies that Bind, Turkle, Mississippi, 1859-61. Now I want you to meet Devereau French, the novel’s second protagonist and Durk’s “reluctant” nemesis.

Second protagonist? Yes. The Lies that Bind is unique in many ways, and having two conflicting, sympathetic main characters is one of them. (Incidentally, the novel has been acquired by TouchPoint Press and is due to be published this year.)

The novel revolves around a cast of outsiders, and no one is more of an outsider than the enigmatic Devereau French—not even Durk. Because of Devereau’s position as, technically, the richest landowner with the most slaves in the region, you wouldn’t normally consider him an outsider. But Devereau isn’t living a “normal” life—as you will discover.

Slave shack, circa 1860

Slave shack, circa 1860

In fact, Devereau is more of a prisoner, more trapped, than his own slaves, whom he often envies! Lightly freckled and frail, with cropped auburn hair, Devereau, at thirty-one, has soft, rosy cheeks. Indeed, his “slight stature gives one the sense of an adolescent boy, not a mature man.

 It is with good reason that the Turkle townsfolk call Devereau “the loneliest man on Earth.” Yes, poor Devereau: his darkest secret—one of many—is tearing him apart, driving him to fits of severe melancholy, to contemplate both murder and suicide, and to desperate actions.

 When we first see him he is in tears, about to bury the three-year-old child his mother “adopted” for him to ensure the family’s legacy. This is necessary because, according to rumor, Devereau has “never had a wife nor even a sweetheart.” Devereau needs love more than anything in the world, but the life he is trapped in makes that dream nearly impossible to achieve. As the novel’s tangled webs of deceit unravel, you will be surprised when you learn why—but maybe you’ll have suspected all along?

 As owner of French Acres, Devereau rules the town by fear, but the townsfolk fear his mother, not him. When Durk Hurst appears, it is in the interest of the French family to eliminate him and steal the land Durk has swindled from a mad Chickasaw chief. So why is Devereau so reluctant to eliminate, perhaps even murder, the interloper? Hint: It may not be what you think.

Up Next: Given that last week was the 150th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s death, I thought it fitting to pay homage to the man who inspired this country to its better angels—a struggle that continues to this day.

In Two Weeks: Meet Devereau’s mother, the reclusive Missus Marie Brussard French, the master manipulator who attempts to control his life.

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Publication date to be announced soon!

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Watch for publication of Ed’s novel, The Lies that Bind (TouchPoint Press, 2015), a darkly ironic antebellum mystery/drama set in Turkle, Mississippi, 1859-61.

Ed Protzel’s views, opinions, and ideas expressed in this blog are his alone. Blog copyrighted by Ed Protzel © 2015.

Introducing Durksen Hurst, main protagonist in Ed Protzel’s novel, The Lies that Bind

Welcome to my blog. Over time, I’ll be introducing you to the world inhabited by the characters of my upcoming historical novel, The Lies that Bind, a darkly ironic antebellum mystery/drama set in Turkle, Mississippi, 1859-61, where no one is who they pretend to be and more than anyone can imagine. The novel has been acquired by TouchPoint Press and is due to be published this year. I can’t wait! 

The story revolves around a cast of outsiders trying to find their humanity during a dark time in our nation’s history, just before the Civil War. It deals with issues of class, race, and gender, with people enslaved and seemingly free—all seeking love and respect. 

As the story’s tangled webs of deceit unravel, each startling plot twist and cathartic revelation shines a fresh light on what it means to be a man, a woman, free or enslaved—indeed, what it means to be human. My website tells you more about it. 

But first, let me introduce you to Durksen Hurst, aka “Dark Horse,” the primary protagonist in The Lies that Bind. (I say “primary” because one of the novel’s unique features is two competing, but sympathetic, main characters.) It’s 1859 when we first meet Durk Hurst who is being pursued on his roan horse through a Mississippi swamp—and not for the first time—his fancy Memphis-bought suit mud-splattered and torn, his body and mind past exhaustion. 

Naturally, he is despondent. This visionary hustler believed his most recent scheme would have helped dirt-poor farmers throughout the South—and, of course, made him rich in the process. But here he is at forty, at a dead end, having “fallen into the pit where all his sky-high dreams and clever plans, his fine-figuring and fast-talking inevitably left him broke, desperate, and alone.” 

In the swamp, Durk encounters a dozen slaves, stranded, whose safest course may be to sink his body into the bayou. But, alas, Durk has a plan for all of them; one based on an “imaginary” plantation, a potentially fatal partnership made possible by his private disgust with slavery. Naturally, his future “partners” are skeptical. When they accuse him of being a charlatan, he replies that, yes, he’s “had to play the charlatan, though always an honest one,” one who’s “never told a lie I didn’t believe in myself.”  

Now which of us wouldn’t trust this man with our life? Well, they were so desperate, they had no choice. Incredibly, a number of Durk’s magnificent scams turn that plantation idea into a real employee-owned enterprise. 

Durk Hurst never has fit in anywhere; doesn’t even look like other people. He’s half Seminole. Nor do his attitudes toward society fit in either. And his imagination, well, his imagination could be his undoing.  

Unfortunately, the ambitious scamp is never satisfied. His uncontrollable dreams lead to further wild schemes that put the partners’ lives in jeopardy. And their peril only increases dramatically when the advent of the Civil War throws a monkey wrench into their biggest scam yet. Still a lonely visionary with a mind of his own, Durk has the temerity to oppose the town’s rabid rush to war, which gets him branded a traitor.  

Whoa, can he get himself out of this one? 

Come along with Durk in The Lies that Bind as he and his partners pull off one glorious gambit after another in the hamlet of Turkle, Mississippi, more a microcosm of our own world than we’d care to admit. See this interloper take on the wealthy and powerful French family, some of the strangest protagonists in literature, who are concealing their own fatal charades. Experience the drama, irony, humor, and terror as the facades of both sides unravel—one a clue at a time. 

Publication date to be announced soon!
Next Up: Meet Durk’s nemesis, Devereau French 

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Watch for publication of Ed’s novel, The Lies that Bind (TouchPoint Press, 2015), a darkly ironic antebellum mystery/drama set in Turkle, Mississippi, 1859-61. Ed Protzel’s views, opinions, and ideas expressed in this blog are his alone. Blog copyrighted by Ed Protzel © 2015.

© Copyright 2020 Ed Protzel