What happens when you do something that turns out to have unintended consequences? Middle Cat loves his Human-Mom. He goes out to the choicest nests and picks the nicest gifts for her and leaves them, pungent and appetizing, at the foot of her bed. But does she appreciate it? No. Quite the opposite. Why does he bother, he asks himself? He tries to show he cares about her. Tries to make a fuss. And yet.
Big Cat, ever the optimist, says that there has to be some mistake. It’s possible, for example, that Human-Mom is allergic to starling and that’s why she doesn’t appreciate Middle Cat’s presents. Or maybe she filled up on vole at lunch and you know how vole can cause an imbalance of humours. Even the most philosophic feline can become dyspeptic when they eat too much vole. Human-Mom should know that, of course. Everyone does. But you know how humans are. If they were really as bright as all that, Big Cat and Middle Cat wouldn’t need to hunt so much just to ensure she gets enough protein.
Big Cat, Little Cat: Make a Fuss
Unintended Consequences
Unintended consequences are among your most powerful tools as a writer. One of the first stories we know of–The Iliad–plays with the idea of unintended consequences. Agamemnon tries to teach Achilles a lesson. And Achilles ends up learning a that very lesson–that he is human; that all humans must bow to the will of kings, gods, and fate. But not in the way Agamemnon intends. And certainly not in the way Patroklos would have preferred.
The Iliad represents a particularly satisfying arc because the first book sets out a proposition that the twenty-fourth book fulfills. But the middle books keep the reader/listener guessing the whole time. You’d think, for instance, based on the conflict they set up in the first book, that this would be Achilles’ story. And it is. From beginning to end. But not the way you’d think. For instance, he doesn’t even enter the battle until something like Book 16. The whole poem is a master class in playing with audience expectations. All the more so given that everyone who heard the original performances back in the year 800 BC would already have been familiar with the story.
The Iliad is the classic example of the simple meal, well made. Its themes are obvious. Love? good. War? Bad. Its characters announce their intentions and states of mind in long speeches. And yet in little ways, it keeps the audience guessing and wondering. Usually because of the law of unintended consequences.
I don’t mean to gush but I love the Iliad. It’s just so epic. It’s, like, literally an epic poem.
Anyway. I’d be curious if any readers of this column have favorite examples. Perhaps from your own writing, perhaps from a favorite novel… or poem.
I don’t mean to gush but I love the Iliad. It’s just so epic. It’s, like, literally an epic poem.
Description
Two cats are sitting on a cushion. A large orange with orange stripes looks hale and hearty as he gazes down at his friend, a small grey with grey stripes who looks visibly the worse for wear. The Grey looks out of the frame with a tired expression on his face
Panel 1
Big Cat: Hey, Little Cat! Are you alright? We haven’t talked.
Little Cat: Oh. It’s fine. I’ve been sick.
Panel 2
Big Cat: I heard! I was really worried.
Little Cat: Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make a fuss.
Panel 3
Big Cat: But you made a fuss by trying not to make a fuss.
Little Cat: Oh… Well, shit.
In the corner, there is a byline that reads: Adam Katz, followed by the URL: https://2rulesofwriting.com/tag/big-cat-little-cat/