Character Interview: Shalaby W. Shalaby

A Writing Exercise

In which my own characters sass me mercilessly

Have you ever tried doing a "character interview"?

When you do a character interview, you imagine sitting down with one of your fictional characters and asking them questions. The idea is to get a better handle on those elusive details that make a fictional character feel real.

Questions can range from personal and hard-hitting to trivial and unexpected. It helps to use someone else's pre-written questions. That way, as the author, you avoid asking "leading questions" that play to whatever you've already established about the character. My questions in this interview are adapted from “Four Methods for Interviewing Characters” (Laurie Campbell, Autocrit, 2020) and the Marcel Proust Character Interview (Gotham Writers, 2020). 

I get it: It seems easy, and even sort of stupid. You're just asking yourself questions, and then answering them however you want, right?

But as writers can tell you, long-established characters develop a will of their own. If you're writing with attention to consistency, motivation and personality, a set of patterns emerges. It's less like operating a puppet and more like interacting with an artificial intelligence you've created.

It can be a revealing exercise. It's a space for dramatic characters to be a bit lighthearted, or for humorous characters to get serious for a moment. You get to consider not only the factual answer to each question, but stuff like: 

• How the character would interpret the question; misinterpretations can be revealing
• How honestly or evasively they'd answer; the story that emerges from what goes unsaid
• How they might influence or even hijack the interview process
• How they feel about talking about themselves

Some of the questions also bring out cultural differences you might never think about. In this case, the genre of the current-day "interview" assumes we're all familiar with how interviews are supposed to go, and reasonably comfortable talking about our personal lives. Compare that to how a stodgy Victorian Englishman reacts when you start asking him questions that would seem unbelievably cheeky by 19th-century standards.

As you'll see in this and the next interview I post, my pair of detectives have firmly established a will of their own. We'll start with my surprisingly frustrating session with Shalaby W. Shalaby, an old-fashioned sort who is not having any of this touchy-feely, tell-me-about-your-hopes-and-dreams rubbish. Here are the excerpted highlights of our fictional chat:

Interview with Shalaby W. Shalaby

Private Supernatural Detective

1880's London

If you had a free day with no responsibilities and your only mission was to enjoy yourself, what would you do?

Well, I suppose leisure time is occasionally salutary to one’s…health or…mental fortitude. That being that case, I—

But then you’d be looking at leisure as a sort of responsibility, right?

Hm. Yes, er. Then, if I were to take irresponsible leisure time…?

Yes. What then?

I…I suppose I should brew some very good tea. Ceylon, first flush. A slice of custard tart might not be out of order. Yes, and I think I should settle into my leather wing chair with the sagging bottom, by a good dry fire, with one of those multi-volume works on Slavic folklore I’ve been meaning to get round to annotating really thoroughly. One hasn’t really read the thing until one’s been through it with a pen, cross-referencing translations and filling in useful marginalia.

What impression do you make on people when they first meet you?

I endeavor to be faultlessly respectful and respectable in all situations. That, I believe, is the mark of the true English gentleman. Not, that is to say, that I appear in the vulgar sense a “gentleman.” No, I’m content to be judged a professional man of the middle class—neat and orderly, I hope, and of a serious mind. That, indeed, is I think all one is entitled to hope at my age and station.

How about after they’ve known you for a while?

Well, that may be different. I don’t count many intimate…er, companions. Better not to expose oneself to ridicule. My colleagues, I trust, can rightly estimate my expertise and the merit of my labours. I believe I’m accounted a scholar of some ability, and of course my closer acquaintance would know of my…somewhat less theoretical work with the esoteric.

And those whom you’re closest to, beyond just colleagues? What more could they say about you?

I should hope they could call me…an honourable man. A stalwart friend, and a gentleman of courage to the very last. But, I’m afraid, rather ridiculous. As I said, with true familiarity one’s personal dignity tends to be deflated.

What’s your idea of a good marriage? Do you think that’ll happen in your life?

Ahem. I-I…Certainly not. No, very probably not. Of course, an affectionate marriage between kindred souls is an admirable state. A man should be reverent toward his wife, and spare her any painful or awkward circumstances. That is, ideally, a man who marries should lead such a life that he may be perfectly transparent toward his wife without causing her any distress. A good marriage is one in which a man can invite a woman whom he loves absolutely, to share in his happiness. A man whose lot is uncertain, or fraught with complexities, should never marry.

What are you most ashamed of in your life?

I might have—I should think I—I…had rather not say. If I must, I might say only that…I might have brought happiness to…to someone. She wished— I never managed to arrange my affairs as she might have wished. I was young and headstrong in my way, and I might have tried harder. And now the time for such things is past, and the matter must rest.

If you could spend the day with someone you admire (living or dead or imaginary), who would you pick?

Imaginary? That seems slightly frivolous. There are so many instructive persons in actual history, from whom one might truly understand mysteries that are otherwise lost. I could name a dozen authors from the bookshelf next to me. Why, ten minutes with one of the sages of Araby, or the Greek philosophers, should be worth more than a lifetime of converse with some imaginary personage! Herodotus, for example, or the great Ibn Senna. One can only imagine!

Do you think you’ve turned out the way your parents expected?

Ah. Well, that’s difficult to say. I think they find me a dutiful son. My father should certainly be pleased if I published more research and attended to my ancient languages more frequently. A mother’s approval is of course more unconditional. She should have preferred me to marry, I know. But I mayn’t say she expected it.

What do you believe about God? What do you suppose God thinks of you?

Begging your pardon, the second question seems extremely presumptuous. I shall venture to say only that I believe in a Creator, Whose nature, like so many things, is very probably beyond man’s ability to fathom. As inquiry into the supernatural goes, I’m more at ease with practical research than with theology. 

What’s the worst thing that’s happened in your life? What did you learn from it?

That, I fear, is too long a story to tell in much detail. Briefly put: I was drafted as a soldier in a war, in which my conscience could take no part. I learned physical courage, to tolerate pain and deprivation, and to value a well-trained and fit constitution. I saw much of ordinary men’s valour, and also of ordinary men’s depravity. It taught me what capacity for greatness, and also for degradation, is within us all.

Tell me about your best friend. How did you meet? What do you like about this person? What do they like about you?

My partner…Byron Fecklace. He’s some years my junior, and a gentleman in the titular sense, though of loose morals. In fact, I met him when I was commissioned to find and return him to England and his virtuous lady wife. He’d abandoned both for pleasure tour through the Mediterranean and the East, leaving debt and scandal in his wake.

A shame, because Fecklace really is a man of extraordinary intellect. I cannot say I approve of his character. He is, in short, an ingenious reprobate. But he is ingenious—when he cares to be. And I have glimpsed the true manly impulse of compassion and courage in him. He wants…reigning in. Perhaps, despite himself, he values my company because it provides a check to his baser impulses. I will say, he’s been a worthy partner, whatever his faults. And I daresay he could point out a great many faults of mine.

Describe your ideal mate.

I protest this is a terribly awkward question. One cannot answer it except in poor taste. An ideal woman is just as she knows she should be, and it isn’t for a gentleman to describe what…what that…is.

Oh, come on.

Well…needless to say, any man must admire a lady of courtesy and refinement, of acute reasoning, who bears herself with gentleness and compassion toward every creature. A lady of sensitive understanding, whose very presence brings harmony and right-mindedness wherever she chooses to go. A lady of high moral courage, and energetic goodness. Such a lady ought to inspire love in any man.

What are you most afraid of?

I… Ladies. Or rather—that is to say—I intend no ungentlemanly sentiment by that. Only, that is, I can brave most any physical or spiritual danger more readily than I should brave a minute’s conversation with a composed lady. They unman one so. One is conscious of looking the most abominable fool, and yet can do nothing better than stammer and get hot in the face.

What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

I am not in the habit of devaluing virtue in any form. Perhaps prudence, of all the virtues, is sometimes praised too highly. One should be disciplined, of course. One should study and think. But there are times when it’s proper for a man to simply act, spurred only by his impulse for what is right and needful.

What do you like best about yourself? Least?

If one is being superficial, I quite like my moustache. If I’m asked to speak of deeper qualities… perhaps without being immodest I can call myself a man of honesty and integrity.

It sounds vain, but I dislike that I’ve a tendency to stoutness. One wants to be at least in decent training. And at times I heartily wish I knew how to express myself more fluently. Stammering is such an undignified flaw.

What do you like best about Byron Fecklace? Least?

As I said, I value his brilliance, if only he would turn it to good use. Moreover, he has a way of slyly winning one’s affection. Perhaps it’s the spontaneous warmth of his nature. He’s quite disingenuous in that way. It’s…gratifying. Occasionally. To be regarded with such unaffected fondness, I mean.

I think I’ve spoken enough on his vices. One could wish that he wasn’t so vain and melodramatic. At least one can say that his faults are mostly of an impulsive nature, the result of chasing his ever-changing whims. I’m almost certain that there’s no true viciousness in him.

How do you feel about your life right now? What, if anything, would you like to change?

My path in life might be thankless and inglorious at times. But noble toil in obscurity is nothing to be ashamed of. If I could change the world’s appraisal of me…if I weren’t so generally looked upon as a crackpot, and a rather shabby one at that, I should be gratified. As long as one can hold one’s head up, however—as long as one is conscious of being worthy of one’s own esteem—one can endure a little mockery.

Are you lying to yourself about something? What is it?

…It does become tiring, being laughed at. One sometimes wonders whether… I do wonder whether I really am just a fat, blustering, ridiculous old fool. But giving in to self-pity is the worst of weaknesses. I usually endeavour not to think about it, and if that is lying to myself, then I admit I…I do lie to myself, about that.

Okay, lightning round.

I beg your pardon?

Short answers only. Quick as you can, please.

Ah.

Name some things that are overrated.

Dogs. A fashionable appearance. And coffee.

Name some things that are underappreciated.

Letter-writing. Good, sturdy undergarments—if I may say so without impropriety.

What commonsense advice is actually wrong?

Fairies can be warded off with iron. Actually, they just dislike a lot of industrial noise. People are fooling themselves if they think they can “ward off” fairies with anything except constant vigilance and perhaps wearing their clothes inside-out.

What do you like to have for breakfast?

Good, strong tea with a lump of sugar is indispensable. And I’m partial to a boiled egg with some sausage, and a thick slice of bread fried in butter with blackberry jam.

If you were arrested, what would it most likely be for?

Oh…public brawling, perhaps. I assure you it would be justified, though possibly difficult to explain.

What things bother you that most people don’t seem to mind?

Ladies on steam velocipedes. The existence of steam velocipedes at all. Poor handwriting. Gentlemen who make ridiculous postures with their walking sticks. Omnibuses.

Besides necessities, what do you never travel without?

My notebook, to be sure. And a revolver. One never knows what one may encounter.

Have you ever done a fictional character interview? What questions would you most like to ask your own, or someone else's, fictional characters? Feel free to share your juiciest questions in the Comments section.