BROWDERBOOKS
Wild New York
My historical novel Forbidden Brownstones has a cover that I like, but some say that even fiction should have a subtitle on the cover, so as to let buyers know the genre at a glance.
Babylon: Stories of Old New York
Will this help sell it? Who knows? It hasn't even got a publisher yet.
When We Should Lie
This is a postscript to last week's post on man/boy love. In his unpublished memoir my former pen pal Joe tells how, when he was working as a counselor in a boys' camp in North Carolina, one of the boys -- we'll call him Jim -- told him an interesting story. A man moved into his neighborhood who started having consensual sex with the local underage boys. Word got around; the boys flocked. Jim himself had sex with the man, as did his younger brother. But one day the police came calling: word had reached them too, and they wanted Jim to testify against the man, so this predator could be locked up. Jim didn't want to, but under great pressure he agreed. There was no mention of his younger brother, so only Jim was involved.
When the day came, Jim went to court with his father. There he saw the man, now in custody, and realized that the whole case against him depended on Jim's testimony. But Jim reflected: he liked the man, liked the sex, and didn't think the man had harmed, or would harm, anyone. So when he took the stand, with all eyes on him, he testified that yes, he knew the man, but they had never had sex. Pandemonium erupted in the courtroom. The prosecutor and a social worker upbraided him, while the judge pounded his gavel for order. The session was suspended, so the social worker could talk to Jim in private, with only his father present.
In another room the social worker, a woman, again described the man as a monster and said it was Jim's duty to testify against him so he could be locked up. "Lady," said Jim, "right now I'm more scared of you than I am of him!" Her jaw dropped, and Jim's father intervened: "If you don't mind, I'm taking my son home." And so he did.
For the next few days Jim's father kept a close eye on him, lest he see the man again. But the man, now at liberty, soon moved away. End of story.
This anecdote taught me something useful. We are all told that it's wrong to lie; one should always tell the truth. But it isn't that simple. It isn't enough to just tell the truth. You must tell the truth for the right reasons. Jim lied in his testimony -- indeed, he committed perjury -- but to have told the truth would have gone counter to his own perceptions of the situation and betrayed a man who he felt had done him no harm. Few teenagers would have had the courage to do this, least of all in court; I applaud him.
Could this rule be abused? Of course. The cases where it applies are special and rare. But I hold to my conclusion: It isn't enough just to tell the truth. You must tell the truth for the right reasons.
© 2021 Clifford Browder
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