My husband was sorting through the flotsam of papers on my desk in search of scratch paper. He picked up one of the scraps, read it, then asked,
"What does invincible banana mean?"
I remembered writing Invincible Banana on a sheet of paper one night shortly before bed. It was one of those flashes of story ideas that hold a lot of promise when I first think of them. Usually I jot the idea down somewhere, think about it for awhile, and decide if I can develop it into something exciting. I know I had some pretty concrete ideas about a story I would title "Invincible Banana." Unfortunately, other than the title and the memory of my own excitement, I remember nothing useful about the story- like the plot, situation, characters.
I learned several things from this experience: 1) clean my desk more often, 2) don't leave crazy stuff around where my husband can read it and laugh at me 3) make more detailed notes even if I have a mouthful of toothpaste, and 4) "Invincible Banana" was probably not a good story title, because the title tells me (and the reader) nothing about the story.
I blogged earlier this week about a story called "St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves" by Karen Russell. The title encapsulates the magical realism element of the story (something normal, something fantastic), describes the setting (St. Lucy's Home), describes primary characters in the story (girls raised by wolves), and even hints at the story's main conflict (civilization vs. the wild life). Wow, now that is a title that would make sense unearthed from scraps of grocery store receipts and junk mail- and, by the way, it would also make a lot of sense to a reader about to embark on the story.
Listening to T.C. Boyle read Tobias Wolffe's "Bullet in the Brain" in a New Yorker Fiction podcast, I was struck by the story's title. "Bullet in the Brain" is a very short story, and approximately half the drama happens before the critical event of the bullet entering the protagonist's brain. So I asked myself: wasn't Wolffe cutting the tension of the drama by telling us what was going to happen before we even started the story? Well, having heard "Bullet in the Brain" read out loud, my response was that the "giveaway" title didn't do anything to destroy the drama. Why? Part of the answer is that the heart of the story occurs after the bullet has breached the skull of the protagonist's brain. But there is also an element of tragicomedy present in the first half of the story, that makes the tension of the moments before the bullet is fired worse, because we know (or strongly suspect) what's going to happen. Since readers know the protagonist is going to get shot in the head, we're biting our nails as the protagonist goads the gunman. If the reader believed the protagonist might somehow escape his fate, the tension would be lessened.
As much as I enjoy the koan-like sense of wonder evoked by the two word titles of J-Pop bands like Swinging Popsicle, Crispy Park, Berry Roll, Browny Circus, I have my doubts about this kind of ambiguous , two-word title for a short story. What makes these band names cool (at least for me) is that they open up my mind in the attempt to figure out what the heck they mean. But in a short story every word counts. In most cases, something as important as the first words should focus the reader's mind, or do something to help the reader grasp the context or content of the story. And in instances like "Bullet in the Brain," the title can manipulate building tension in the plot.
Of course, I'm sure there are great short stories out there with intriguingly vague titles. I'd like hear about some of your favorites.
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