It will probably be clear to anyone who has
followed these attempts, that the first step in
adaptation is analysis, careful analysis of the
story as it stands. One asks oneself, What is
the story? Which events are necessary links in
the chain? How much of the text is pure
description?
Having this essential body of the story in
mind, one then decides which of the steps toward
the climax are needed for safe arrival there, and
keeps these. When two or more steps can be
covered in a single stride, one makes the stride.
When a necessary explanation is unduly long, or
is woven into the story in too many strands, one
disposes of it in an introductory statement, or
perhaps in a side remark. If there are two or
more threads of narrative, one chooses among
them, and holds strictly to the one chosen,
eliminating details which concern the others.
In order to hold the simplicity of plot so
attained, it is also desirable to have but few
personages in the story, and to narrate the action
from the point of view of one of them,—usually
the hero. To shift the point of view of the
action is confusing to the child's mind.
When the analysis and condensation have
been accomplished, the whole must be cast in
simple language, keeping if possible the same
kind of speech as that used in the original, but
changing difficult or technical terms to plain,
and complex images to simple and familiar ones.
All types of adaptation share in this need of
simple language,—stories which are too short,
as well as those which are too long, have this
feature in their changed form. The change in a
short story is applied oftenest where it becomes
desirable to amplify a single anecdote, or
perhaps a fable, which is told in very condensed
form. Such an instance is the following anecdote
of heroism, which in the original is quoted in
one of F. W. Robertson's lectures on Poetry.
A detachment of troops was marching along a valley,
the cliffs overhanging which were crested by the enemy. A
sergeant, with eleven men, chanced to become separated from
the rest by taking the wrong side of a ravine, which they
expected soon to terminate, but which suddenly deepened
into an impassable chasm. The officer in command signalled
to the party an order to return. They mistook the signal for
a command to charge; the brave fellows answered with a
cheer, and charged. At the summit of the steep mountain
was a triangular platform, defended by a breastwork, behind
which were seventy of the foe. On they went, charging up
one of those fearful paths, eleven against seventy. The
contest could not long be doubtful with such odds. One
after another they fell; six upon the spot, the remainder
hurled backwards; but not until they had slain nearly twice
their own number.
There is a custom, we are told, amongst the hillsmen, that
when a great chieftain of their own falls in battle, his wrist is
bound with a thread either of red or green, the red denoting
the highest rank. According to custom, they stripped the
dead, and threw their bodies over the precipice. When their
comrades came, they found their corpses stark and gashed;
but round both wrists of every British hero was twined the
red thread!
This anecdote serves its purpose of illustration
perfectly well, but considered as a separate
story it is somewhat too explanatory in diction,
and too condensed in form. Just as the long
story is analysed for reduction of given details,
so this must be analysed,—to find the details
implied. We have to read into it again all that
has been left between the lines.
Moreover, the order must be slightly changed,
if we are to end with the proper "snap,'' the
final sting of surprise and admiration given by
the point of the story; the point must be prepared
for. The purpose of the original is equally
well served by the explanation at the end, but
we must never forget that the place for the
climax, or effective point in a story told, is the
last thing said. That is what makes a story
"go off'' well.
Imagining vividly the situation suggested, and
keeping the logical sequence of facts in mind,
shall we not find the story telling itself to boys
and girls in somewhat this form?
