Tense for flashbacks

[gadgetmind]

I struggled with this as I don't do many flashbacks. I think I've made it clear it's a flashback, and I've switched to perfect tense as much as I could, but found myself falling over it. I've posted a bigger chunk, and welcome comments on anything, but it's the flashback(s) that I'm most keen to have opinions on.

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Her hand froze mere centimetres from the box. Unwelcome memories triggered each other in a wild cascade and the deluge of emotion prevented her from reaching any closer. She’d asked that it be thrown away, but her sister had looked at the price sticker and instead placed it on a high shelf. There it sat, its cover a colourful collage of healthy plants and happy faces, but Parvathi knew the back bore a skull and crossbones with small English text beneath, too small for her tired eyes to make out without bright light, and even then many of the words were long and unfamiliar.

No, there it must stay. It would be dark soon, and the bugs would soon settle so she could squish them with her fingers by torchlight. It would take many hours but her delicate crop would thank her for it.

Parvathi lifted the slatted wooden door on its rope hinges to prevent it dragging on the floor as she shuffled forwards, then swung it back and hung it on its rusty hook on the front of the house. As she turned to look due west towards Navi Mumbai, she gave her habitual deep sigh: she’d always loved the view across the fields, but now it was gone, replaced by a maze of dozens of wood and canvass dwellings, each even more meagre than her own.

Over there had been the small shed where Andrah had kept his prized tools and where the children were forbidden to even tread. To the right had been a field of golden rice, pampered more than the children, but always demanding extra, and never showing gratitude. And over there, where Narashima’s shack now stood, that was where she’d found her husband’s body, his torso slumped over his crossed legs by his second well, a well dug even deeper than the first but every bit as dry, and digging them twice as deeply into debt. To his side had sat that box, its contents deadly to insects and man alike, and a small jar that he must have drained in one long gulp.

She’d reported it of course, turning a once proud farmer into another sad statistic, and had done everything a grieving widow should do, and more. There were generous offers of help from friends and family, but she knew they couldn’t afford to back them up, so she refused all but the most trivial. Her sister had tidied up and kept her talking, her brother sold some of the heavier tools to get enough money to last a few weeks, and the next day they left her alone, alone with the children and their questions.

Then, when darkness came, it had been her turn to walk to the well, to sit on the mound of dry earth that was all it had ever yielded, and to stare down into its darkness. The kitchen knife that had lain on her lap was very old, and its handle had been rewrapped with rope many times, but the blade’s edge was well-tended and razor sharp.

The children had made her final decision inevitable: she’d pushed the earth into the hole, first scooping with her hands, and then kicking with her feet, occasionally pausing for breath, but soon resuming her labour. When the hole was almost full, she’d knelt before it and taken the knife in her right hand. Working quickly but methodically, she’d hacked off her hair, and thrown handful after handful down into the hole, before eventually stamping the remaining earth down on top and returning to the house. It was only when the children greeted her with blind terror that she realised that she’d nicked her scalp in many places, and her hands, arms and clothes were caked in a thick mixture of dirt, hair and blood.

A familiar hacking cough pulled her away from her memories, and for the first time in months, the present seemed a better place to be. Narashima had been away for several days, and even though the lull in the acrid smell of his trade had been welcome, she’d missed his presence, and even his cough.

“Narashima?” Paravathi knew it was him but wanted to make sure he was fully clothed this time.

“Who else would be in this shithole? Come in Parav, pull up a drum, make yourself at home, which I suppose you are.”

She pushed aside the ragged curtain, stooped to enter the shack, and had to remain half bent while Nara considerately brushed charred paint residue from the top of a large drum. There was little inside the shack that didn’t relate to Nara’s trade as a paint drum restorer, and the stench of paint, both burnt and fresh, permeated its very fabric and hadn’t noticeably faded during his brief absence.
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Many thanks.

Ian

[HareBrain]

I think you mean pluperfect rather than perfect (which is standard past-tense) in your introduction.

The standard technique for flashback is to move to pluperfect for a couple of sentences, then switch to perfect/past for the rest of the flashback, moving back to pluperfect at the end just to remind the reader that the events were happening prior to the main time of the story. What you've done is to use pluperfect to get us in, and then switched to a mixture. And actually, I think it works fine. It might even be necessary, because the start of the flashback is a bit indistinct -- I'm not sure if you could call the para starting "Over there had been a small shed" a flashback or not, rather than observations made in the "present". And the hacking cough bit brings us back without you having to make clear through tenses that the flashback has ended.

So I think it's well-handled here, and the proportion of pluperfect to perfect in the flashback is about right -- any more pluperfect and like you, we would have been stumbling over it.

In a longer flashback, where it's definitely a retelling of something that happened previously rather that a character's fragmented thoughts about it, then I would go with the standard technique described above. But it's always a bit of a balancing act.

BTW, I thought the rest of it was good too, but my brain's full of snot at the moment and I don't feel up to doing a proper crit on it.

[gadgetmind]

Pluperfect is maybe more precise, but I'm not sure calling it perfect is wrong. I'm already in the past tense, so if it's also perfect, then it's past perfect, which is pluperfect. However, I dropped every subject that wasn't a science at the earliest opportunity, so what do I know?

Thanks for the feedback on my flashback. I knew you switched to pluperfect (probably out of instinct more than anything else) but didn't know about drifting back to past nor switching to pluperfect again just before reverting to the present. I do have another long flashback, nearly a whole scene, and used something akin to a "hacking cough" to end that one. Maybe I need to revisit it.

This scene is about 2400 words in total and is one of the ones that could come out entirely. However, I am planning to reuse a character from it, perhaps even in a sequel! (Whenever I mention another book, my wife does that frowny thing. Does anything else get that?)

Commiserations on your cold. I had a smidge of one at the weekend, and didn't think it was anything like bad enough to prevent me from scuba diving, but was wrong. I managed the dive but my eardrums are still informing me that it was a bad idea, and in no uncertain terms!

Ian

[HareBrain]

Originally Posted by gadgetmind

Pluperfect is maybe more precise, but I'm not sure calling it perfect is wrong. I'm already in the past tense, so if it's also perfect, then it's past perfect, which is pluperfect.

Well, past tense is another name for perfect tense, and past-perfect is another name for pluperfect. Don't ask me why. When I rule the world I'll make it less confusing.

Commiserations on your cold. I had a smidge of one at the weekend, and didn't think it was anything like bad enough to prevent me from scuba diving, but was wrong. I managed the dive but my eardrums are still informing me that it was a bad idea, and in no uncertain terms!

At the risk of going too OT, coincidentally I found out yesterday that the tinnitus/partial hearing loss I picked up in June from freediving is likely to be permanent. Treasure your eardrums!

[Ursa major]

In the scheme described in the Toolbox (in particular, this post The Toolbox), the Pluperfect is the same as the Past Perfect. What I learnt, in Latin, as the Perfect tense is the Present Perfect in English.


So gadgetmind is correct in this instance. (As is HB when he calls it the Pluperfect. )

[gadgetmind]

Everyone's a winner!

(BTW, I also took Latin but I would hesitate to use the word "learnt" )

[Ursa major]

Admission: In that case I should have more than hesitated.

[iansales]

It's normal practice to begin a flashback in pluperfect (assuming the narrative is in the past tense, of course), but switch to perfect a few sentences in. You then keep the sense of it happening in the past of the story, without having the cumbersome "had" prepended to every verb...

[ventanamist]

I've recently read a book with flashbacks done in the present tense (John le Carre). I found it very satisfying. It gave the memories the vividness and importance that suited the plot. I'm afraid I can't remember how they were started and finished and I left the book in a backpacker's hostel.

[Jane Holland]

I think the flashback, which is very minor, works fine, with a few awkward moments. I've highlighted those in red, with suggestions on which way to swing, and also just poked and prodded a few other things which I might fiddle with if editing it myself.

Hope there's something useful here. I'd be inclined to follow the advice above in general though, and stick to pluperfect to introduce it, then perfect until it finishes, rather than keep switching. It's just more elegant that way.

Originally Posted by gadgetmind

Over there had been the small shed where Andrah had kept his prized tools and where the children were [had been, or are they still?] forbidden to even tread. To the right had been a field of golden rice, pampered more than the children, but always demanding extra, and never showing gratitude. And [over there,] where Narashima’s shack now stood, [that was where] she’d found her husband’s body, [his] torso slumped over [his] crossed legs by his second well - a well dug even deeper than the first but every bit as dry [,] and digging them twice as deeply into debt. To his side had sat that box, its contents deadly to insects and man alike, and a small jar [that] he must have drained in one long gulp.

She’d reported it of course, turning a once proud farmer into another sad statistic, and had done everything a grieving widow should do, and more. There were generous offers of help from friends and family, but she knew they couldn’t afford to back them up, so she refused all but the most trivial. Her sister tidied up and kept her talking, her brother sold some of the heavier tools to get enough money to last a few weeks; the next day they left her alone, alone with the children and their questions.

Then, when darkness came, it had been her turn to walk to the well, to sit on the mound of dry earth that was all it had ever yielded, and to stare down into its darkness. The kitchen knife [that had lain] on her lap was very old, [and] its handle [had been] rewrapped with rope many times, but the blade[’s edge] was well-tended and razor sharp.

The children had made her final decision inevitable: she’d pushed the earth into the hole, first scooping with her hands, and then kicking with her feet, occasionally pausing for breath, but soon resuming her labour. With the hole almost full, she’d knelt before it and taken the knife in her right hand. Working quickly but methodically, she hacked off her hair, and threw handful after handful down into the hole, before stamping the remaining earth down on top and returning to the house. It was only when the children greeted her with blind terror that she realised [that] she’d nicked her scalp in many places, and her hands, arms and clothes were caked in a thick mixture of dirt, hair and blood.

[gadgetmind]

Wow, thanks. I'll merge that with my (already pushed around) version tomorrow. I might well come back with questions as to why certain forms are better.
Ian