outline and historical context

TRUTH MARATHON

OUTLINE AND HISTORICAL CONTEXT

Finn Harvor

Seo-cho gu, bang-bae dong, 890-27, B101

Seoul, S. Korea

137-841

TRUTH MARATHON works on several levels. On the one hand, it's a social novel. Its protagonist, Paul Northfield, works on contract. And although educated and employed and therefore supposedly a member of the comfortable middle class, in fact Paul’s life is perpetually on the verge of crisis.

His boss hates him. His apartment has rats. He’s always budgeting to make ends meet, and never feels like he has job security.

On top of this, he has to cope with a family situation that regularly threatens to overwhelm him emotionally. His father -- a genial, intellectually gifted individual diagnosed with schizophrenia (he is on medication) -- lives on welfare. He spends his days conducting "research" into what he calls "some of the greatest stories never told". Meanwhile, Paul's mother, who many years ago divorced his father, can't seem to let go of the relationship. Unfortunately, the way she expresses her concern is through nagging. The particulars of his life aside, Paul is emblematic of what so many people nowadays live through; Paul is an Everyperson of 21st Century society.

But the story is also a love story. It focuses on Paul's relationship with a Korean-Canadian co-worker named Sarah. Sarah is beautiful -- extraordinarily beautiful. The pull Paul feels toward her is irresistible. But Sarah also possesses the capriciousness of the beautiful, and it doesn't help that she is likely an alcoholic.

She's gotten under his skin, though. Paul loves Sarah ardently, without restraint. Paul has had girlfriends before. But not like this. And so, when she denies that she has a drinking problem, Paul, besotted, tries to keep up with her level of booze consumption rather than bring her back to his level. And in the midst of all this, his problems at work and complications with his parents just increase.

But TRUTH MARATHON has an extra element, and that is history. At the heart of Paul's relationship with his father and also with Sarah are two of the great mysteries of the 20th Century: How could Pearl Harbor and the Korean War have happened the way they did? How could sneak attacks of such devastating magnitude not been foreseen?

The truth -- and what follows are not the allegations of conspiracy buffs but is accepted as part of the historical record -- is the governments of both Roosevelt and Truman had very capable intelligence warning them of potential hostilities. In the case of Pearl Harbor, the U.S. had a half-ring of listening posts close to Japan. It had broken Japanese diplomatic codes. It had a policy of requiring military commanders to "accept the first blow" in the expected event of hostilities. (For a very interesting example of what how this policy played out, look carefully at what happened the day of Dec. 7, 1941 not in Hawaii, but in the Philippines, under General Douglas MacArthur; despite being warned seven hours in advance of an attack, he failed to get his planes off the ground.)

In the case of Pearl Harbor, the event that gives global context to what was happening was World War Two: Roosevelt was desperate to enter, but public support for American involvement in "Europe and Asia's wars" wasn't there. Pearl Harbor galvanized the American people overnight.

Similarly, in the spring of 1950, U.S. intelligence knew for a fact that the North Koreans were arming heavily; shipments of materiel flowing from the Soviet Union were monitored by U.S. subs outside Soviet ports; the build-up of a North Korean airforce was monitored by American overflights and in-country agents (the border between North and South Korea at that point was very permeable). Yet despite this massive buildup of military power in the North during the early months of 1950, de facto U.S. military assistance to South Korea slowed to a trickle. When the South Koreans protested, they were stonewalled with claims the American government couldn't afford to spend more.

Again, global context throws a different light on what was happening on the Korean peninsula in early 1950: in 1949, the Soviets had successfully tested an atomic bomb. Later the same year, the Chinese successfully concluded their revolution (with the exception of Formosa). In reaction to these events, during the first months of 1950 the Truman administration secretly developed a policy to quadruple defense spending. But the American public, recently having emerged from World War Two, was eager for a reduction in military spending, not an increase of it. That changed overnight on June 25, 1950 when North Korea successfully invaded the South.

One major theme of TRUTH MARATHON is that history matters; it matters when it occurs as a "current event" -- it matters decades after the fact, when records remain sealed. (It's worth noting that the Russians have revealed more state secrets pertaining to the Korean War than the U. S. government has.)

The issues dealt with in the novel work on both personal and political levels. This is a work that is emotionally and intellectually sophisticated. Yet it also has the potential to be a best-seller. And it is in a package which is bound to win attention from reviewers and the public. To contact me, write to fharvor at yahoo dot com.

Truth Marathon -- trailer

Truth Marathon -- trailer

This is the internet trailer for my screenplay-novel, Truth Marathon. It's meant to capture Truth Marathon's theme of contemporary big-city life -- in particular, the relationship between Paul and Sarah. But it's also meant to capture the novel's underlying theme of the power of history and how it constantly exerts its effect on people, even when they're unaware of it.

There are two major historical events addressed in Truth Marathon: the first is Pearl Harbor, the second the outbreak of the Korean War. About the latter, it is safe to say this still makes its effect felt on the Korean people -- not on a daily basis, but nevertheless regularly, inexorably.

History matters. It matters to individuals. It matters to nations. Yet the paradox of history is that quite often, even when scholarship shows certain facts to be true, it can be glossed over by myth.

[Special thanks to Yang Sang-joon and friend for putting this together]

TRUTH MARATHON -- OPENING SEQUENCE.

This is the new opening to my screenplay-novel, Truth Marathon:

EXTERIOR. A STREET IN PRE-WORLD WAR TWO TOKYO. MID-DAY.

TITLE: TOKYO, JANUARY 26, 1941.

The street in front of the Japanese branch of the National City Bank of New York. The street is covered with a thin film of snow. Crowds move back and forth quickly: Japanese men, mostly, dressed in sober dark suits, but also the occasional vendor pulling a large wagon, or, with her head bowed, a woman.

The women are young and officious and also dressed in dark, business-like fashions. But once in a while, they are wearing bright kimonos.

The overall visual effect is of a series of monochromes, from the black of the window frames and wrought iron fences to the dark gray of stone walls to the steadily dirtying white of the snow -- but all this dotted by an infrequent bob of colour.

A car pulls up in front of the bank. A WELL-DRESSED WESTERN MAN emerges. He enters the bank.

INTERIOR. THE BANK. A MOMENT LATER.

The WELL-DRESSED WESTERN MAN stands in line. After a moment, he reaches the front.

MALE JAPANESE TELLER: [with a strong Asian accent] Hello. May I helping you?

WELL-DRESSED WESTERN MAN: [speaking with an Northeastern, Ivy League accent] Konichiwa. Yes, I’d like to convert some yen to U. S. dollars.

MALE JAPANESE TELLER:How much?

WELL-DRESSED WESTERN MAN: [reaching into his jacket and pulling out a big envelope] Well, it’s rather a large amount….

JUMP-CUT.

INTERIOR. JUST BEHIND THE WELL-DRESSED WESTERN MAN.

ANOTHER WESTERN MAN, also well dressed, taps the first on the shoulder.

OTHER WESTERN MAN: [with a Latin-American accent] Mr. Bishop.

BISHOP (FIRST WELL-DRESSED WESTERN MAN): [startled] Oh, Dr. Schreiber. You surprised me.

DR. SCHRIEBER: [somewhat anxiously] I’m sorry. May I have a word with you?

BISHOP: Shoot.

DR. SCHRIEBER: No. A private word.

BISHOP: [friendly] Sure. Just a moment.

Bishop turns back to the teller, finishes his business, then turns back to Schreiber who is clearly agitated.

SCHREIBER: [whispering] What I have to say is of paramount importance.

BISHOP: Oh. All right, then.

The two walk to an alcove.

INTERIOR. A CLOSE-UP OF THE TWO MEN. THE BUSINESS OF THE BANK CONTINUES IN THE BACKGROUND.

SCHREIBER: What do you know about Japanese foreign policy toward your country?

BISHOP: [in a rather hale tone] Well, it’s complex, isn’t it? [Trying to be witty] That’s what the Japanese do so well. Make things complex.

SCHREIBER: Well, of course. There is complex. But there is also hostile.

BISHOP: Good god, why should the Japanese be hostile?

SCHREIBER: You are interfering with their aims.

BISHOP: What? In China?

SCHREIBER: Well, yes. In China. But also --. [Schreiber turns his head and does a quick nervous scan of the bank. Then he turns back to Bishop] Well, it would seem that since they signed an agreement with Germany and Italy….

BISHOP: [shaking his head] Oh, yes, a foolish business, that. Very bad form.

SCHREIBER: Well, since they have allied into an axis, they --. There seems to be a change in your government’s attitude toward them.

BISHOP: [bluffly] I should hope so!

SCHREIBER: But why? You don’t fight in Europe’s war.

BISHOP: No, no. But we thoroughly disapprove of it. We disapprove of fascism.

SCHREIBER: But that is a European movement. Not Asian.

BISHOP: No. But in Japan it might turn into something close enough. And what Tojo’s people are doing in China right now. It’s very shameful.

SCHREIBER: Mr. Bishop. We are both diplomats. We know countries do not pick fights with each other because they think one country’s actions are shameful.

BISHOP: No, no. That’s true. But we can express disapproval.

SCHREIBER: At the diplomatic level, surely. But not the policy level.

BISHOP: What are you driving at?

SCHREIBER: The Japanese have noticed a change in your government’s policy toward them since they signed their agreement. They view this change as a provocation,

BISHOP: [a little pugnaciously] Well, they can view our policies any way they want. Maybe they might take it as a sign they should change some of their own policies.

SCHREIBER: Mr. Bishop. I have to speak more plainly. [Again, he scans the room.]

BISHOP: [looking at his watch] All right, then.

SCHREIBER: [whispering] What I have to say will shock you.

BISHOP: [distracted, again looking at his watch] I’m sorry, Doctor, I don’t mean to rush you, but I still haven’t eaten.

SCHREIBER: [whispering very forcefully] Listen to me well. Japanese forces are planning, in the event of trouble with the United States, to attempt a surprise mass attack on Pearl Harbor using all their military resources.

Bishop pulls back from Schreiber, obviously shocked.

BISHOP: Come again?

SCHREIBER: [noticing a Japanese bank manager who has noticed them] I must go. Mark my words.

He disappears into the crowd.

Bishop looks after him, somewhat slack-jawed.

INTERIOR. AN AMERICAN GOVERNMENTAL OFFICE. THE NEXT DAY.

TITLE: THE U.S. STATE DEPARTMENT. OFFICE OF SECRETARY OF STATE CORDELL HULL. JANUARY 27, 1941.

An assistant approaches Secretary Hull, who sits at a desk.

ASSISTANT: [holding a cable] Sir, we just received this from Ambassador Grew in Tokyo. It’s urgent.

HULL: [Taking the cable from the assistant and speaking with a Southern drawl] Thank you.

The assistant starts to leave.

HULL: One moment. I may need you.

The assistant waits.

Hull looks at the message. He sighs audibly.

Beat.

HULL: [finishing the message] Get me Army and Naval intelligence.

ASSISTANT: Yes, Mr. Secretary.

HULL: And make sure the appropriate brass sees it, too.

ASSISTANT: You mean the admiral at Pearl?

HULL: [distantly, distracted by some other thought] What?

ASSISTANT: Do you want me to pass this along to Admiral Richardson, as well?

HULL: [still distant] No, no. Richardson may not be serving in that capacity much longer, actually.

ASSISTANT: I see. So would you like me to pass this memo along to whomever replaces him?

HULL: [same voice] We'll see....

ASSISTANT: [trying to be helpful] Well, in any event, the naval commanders will see it if naval intelligence sees it.

HULL: Yes, ahh, you're correct. That’s right. [beat] Well, that’s fine, then.

ASSISTANT: Would you like me to copy the cable for Admiral Richardson anyhow?

HULL: [still distantly] No. As you said, he’ll get word. Or the new fellow. [Hull looks directly at his assistant and manufactures a smile] That will be fine.

EXTERIOR. AN AERIAL SHOT OF PEARL HARBOR AT HAWAII.

SFX: low, rather ominous music.

Voice-over: [an intelligence functionary reading text from a message sent to Admiral Kimmel, the commander of the fleet at Pearl Harbor on the day of the attack] “The Division of Naval Intelligence places no credence in these rumors. Furthermore, based on known data regarding the present disposition and employment of Japanese naval and army forces, no move against Pearl Harbor appears imminent or planned for in the foreseeable future.”

The voice stops reading the text. The screen blacks out.

Beat.

SFX: the slow, insistent wail of an air raid siren, followed after several moments by a series of explosions.

Fade.

EXTERIOR. THE PLAZA OUTSIDE AN OFFICE BUILDING IN A LARGE NORTH AMERICAN CITY. A WEEK-DAY IN EARLY SPRING. MORNING.

TITLE: TORONTO, SPRING, 2006.

Young people stand in this plaza area, smoking cigarettes and chatting. The atmosphere is cheerful, gregarious.

Other people stream into the office building. Most of them are also young, and all of these, though middle-class in appearance, are dressed casually. They look like students. And this is in fact what they are. For although the office building is home to several enterprises, it is above all the location of a very popular language school.

And so the casual dress of the young people makes sense; they aren't here to work, they're here to study -- study the Imperial language of the moment, English. And so when we look more closely at the students we realize they are almost all Latin American or Asian.

A HANDSOME MEXICAN GUY is standing WITH SEVERAL EQUALLY COOL MALE BUDDIES OF VARIOUS ETHNICITIES. The HANDSOME MEXICAN GUY is smoking a cigarette.

HANDSOME MEXICAN GUY: [to a very attractive young woman who is walking by] Hey, Maria, where you go?

MARIA: [smiling] What you think? I go to the school.

HANDSOME MEXICAN GUY: No, you come here.

Maria just smiles and ignores him. She enters the building.

HANDSOME MEXICAN GUY: [To a strongly built Asian friend] Eesh. Eh, what you think?

ASIAN FRIEND: She not like you, Luis.

LUIS, THE HANDSOME MEXICAN GUY: Not like?

ASIAN FRIEND: Yeah. She think you not handsome.

LUIS: Oh. Oh. So you think you handsome?

ASIAN FRIEND: [cocksure] Sure.

LUIS: Usted sueña. You try then okay? You talk to pretty girl.

ASIAN FRIEND: [spotting an enormously good-looking Asian woman] Ji-nah! 안녕! 잘 지내?

LUIS: [mildly upset] No. You don't talk to Chinese girl --

ASIAN FRIEND: [amused and affronted at the same time] She not Chinese. She Korean.

LUIS: Okay, okay. But you choose different woman.

JUMP CUT.

EXT. A BUSY MAIN STREET.

It’s the height of rush hour. A young man is biking quickly down the side of the road. Cars flow past him in a steady stream. He has black hair and pale white skin speckled with a few pimples.

A truck drives by a little too close for comfort.

YOUNG MAN ON BIKE: [under his breath] Shit, what're you trying to do? Kill me?

JUMP CUT.

EXT. THE LANGUAGE SCHOOL. A MOMENT LATER.

The gang of cool guys is still standing around, smoking.

As they do, a beautiful Asian woman with flowingly long black hair and an oval face walks up the steps of the plaza.

She’s wearing a gypsy dress and an Indian cotton blouse. She is charismatic, and, as she walks energetically toward the building, the heads of several students turn toward her involuntarily. Several people lingering on the plaza smile at her. She’s clearly popular.

LUIS: [whisping conspiratorially in his Asian friend's ear] Jae-ok. Look. Here come Sarah teacher.

JAE-OK: Teacher?

LUIS: Sure. You try.

JAE-OK: No. Not with teacher.

LUIS: [wolfishly] Why not? She so beautiful. And she not have boyfriend. It's true. They get kind of divorce. You try.

JAE-OK: [legalistically] She Asian, too. You said no Asian.

LUIS: [impatiently] She same as pueblo d'el Norte. Go.

Jae-ok steps forward. The camera catches this movement and also the expression on Sarah's face. She looks at him simply, with unguarded friendliness.

JAE-OK: [clearing his throat] Sarah.

JUMP-CUT.

EXT. THE BUSY STREET WITH THE YOUNG MAN ON HIS BIKE. ONE MOMENT LATER.

The camera tracks the young man as he approaches an intersection. The lights turn yellow. The young man starts pumping his bike pedals as hard as he can. He accelerates, barely making it through the intersection before the lights turn red.

We see a slight but triumphant smile on his face.

YOUNG MAN: [under his breath] Rock on, babies.

The young man keeps pedaling vigorously. The camera follows him as he speeds down the street, sometimes going almost as quickly as the cars beside him. He seems to be “in the zone”; filled with a happy, aggressive energy.

SFX: A quick popping sound, followed by a rapid hiss.

YOUNG MAN: [looking at his front tire] What the fu--?!

His bike suddenly lurches forward then bumps harshly as all the air seeps from his front tire.

YOUNG MAN: Awwww, shit.

The young man gets off his bike. He looks at his watch, the street.

YOUNG MAN: [forcefully] Shit! Not today! Not fuckin' today!!

Traffic streams past him.

The young man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wallet. Not enough for a taxi. However, he has some loose change and spots a pay-phone. He rushes to it, grateful. He puts a quarter into the coin slot. There’s a loud clink as the money, instead of being accepted, drops immediately into the change bin.

He tries again.

Same problem.

YOUNG MAN: [picking up handset, looking ready to get violent against the phone] Oh, you son-of-a ....

Another young man, better dressed, walks by, talking into a cell phone. The young man with the bike looks at the cell phone with envy. Then he looks at his watch anxiously. He shakes his head. But clearly he’s reached a decision. He locks his disabled bike to a nearby post and begins running . His gait has the steady rhythm of a seasoned runner.

JUMP-CUT.

EXT. THE SCHOOL. THE SAME MOMENT.

Jae-ok is making his move.

JAE-OK: [very nervous -- almost unable to speak] Hi. Sarah. Teacher.

SARAH: [Off-handly] Oh, hi! How are you?

JAE-OK: Good.

SARAH: Great! So, who's your new teacher this term?

JAE-OK: [confused] New?

SARAH: Sure! For the term!

JAE-OK is truly speechless now. He simply looks at her.

SARAH: Silly! Didn't you know that you're switching classes today? You should check your schedule more carefully!

SARAH gives the tough guys a "ta-da" gesture and lightly skips toward the building.

Beat.

LUIS: [laughing uproariously and slapping Jae-ok very hard on the shoulder] You don't know nothing, man! Boy, you ever look .... stoo-pid!

JAE-OK: [visibly defensive] I know that. Before. I know what she say.

LUIS: Oh yeah?

JAE-OK: Yeah. I have new teacher today. Paul.

LUIS: Who?

JAE-OK: Paul.

JUMP-CUT.

EXT. THE CITY STREET WHERE THE YOUNG MAN GOT A FLAT.

Vehicular traffic streams along as the young man jogs quickly. He glances at his watch and his face distends into an expression of helpless desperation; he knows he's not going to make it to his destination on time. He picks up his pace.

JUMP-CUT.

INT. THE LANGUAGE SCHOOL. A CLASSROOM. THREE OR FOUR MINUTES LATER.

Several students, including JAE-0K, sit down in a class-room and patiently wait for their teacher to arrive. There is a pregnant silence. A few students whisper to each other.

JUMP-CUT.

EXT. ANOTHER STREET.

THE YOUNG MAN keeps jogging fast. By now his white shirt is untucked from his pants and soaked in sweat. His tie is disheveled. His jacket is damp, too.

YOUNG MAN: [with tears of anger and exertion in his eyes] Shit, shit, shit!

JUMP-CUT.

INT. THE LANGUAGE SCHOOL. THE SAME CLASSROOM.

Students are getting more restless now. They begin chatting with each other more loudly. A few look at the wall clock.

JUMP-CUT.

INT. THE LOBBY OF THE LANGAUGE SCHOOL.

The young man has arrived at the lobby. He looks as exhausted as a marathon runner -- which, in a manner of speaking, he is. He looks forlornly at the elevator light as it slowly and frustratingly makes its way to the lobby.

JUMP-CUT.

INT. THE CLASSROOM.

GIRL STUDENT: [With Russian accent] What is teacher name?

ANOTHER GIRL STUDENT: [looking at a sheet] Paul.

RUSSIAN GIRL: You know him?

ANOTHER GIRL: No. He new.

RUSSIAN STUDENT: Maybe mistake. [She looks at the sheet of paper more carefully].

ANOTHER GIRL: No mistake.

RUSSIAN GIRL: [determined] I go ask Lucille.

She leaves the classroom. As she does, more hubbub.

JUMP-CUT.

INT. THE LOBBY. THE YOUNG MAN IN FRONT OF AN ELEVATOR DOOR.

SFX: The elevator's cheerful, indifferent "ding!"

JUMP-CUT.

INT. THE LANGUAGE SCHOOL. A HALLWAY.

The Russian girl and Lucille – the school’s manager -- walk quickly toward the classroom where the other students wait.

RUSSIAN GIRL: Lucille. Where is teacher?

LUCILLE: [with repressed anger] I don’t know.

JUMP-CUT.

INT. THE LOBBY OF THE LANGAUGE SCHOOL ITSELF. A MOMENT LATER.

An elevator door opens and the young man bursts out. At the same time, he is looking through a notebook he’s grabbed from his backpack as he looks for some critical information.

YOUNG MAN: [to himself] Room 214. Room 214.

He walks toward where the classrooms start and scans various room number plates.

JUMP-CUT.

INT. THE TEACHER-LESS CLASSROOM. THE SAME MOMENT.

The Russian girl and Lucille enter.

LUCILLE: There seems to be a problem....

At this very moment, the YOUNG MAN bursts in, a smile on his face.

The students, looking at this intruder and then at the manager, regard both with blank faces.

YOUNG MAN: [To the students with a smile] Hi there!. Then, noticing Lucille] Oh. Hi, Lucille.

LUCILLE: [coldly] Paul, what happened? Wasn't Peter clearer about the start time when he hired you?

PAUL: [busted] Y-eah.

LUCILLE: Then what happened? [Whispering sharply] Let's talk out here.

She exits to the hallway. Paul follows.

JUMP-CUT.
INTERIOR. THE HALLWAY.

PAUL: [Quickly] I'm so sorry. My bike tire burst.

LUCILLE: [losing her grip; now noticeably upset] Why didn't you phone?

PAUL: I'm so sorry. The pay-phone, it didn't work. There was just one. I was on Dupont Street. It's just car garages and stuff. I don't have a cell. I ran.

LUCILLE: [regaining composure] Okay, well fine, whatever. You'd better get started. They've been waiting -- [she checks her wrist watch] twenty minutes.

PAUL: I'm really, really sorry.

LUCILLE: Don't apologize. Teach.

[Cont'd]

If you would like to see more pages from TRUTH MARATHON as well as an outline of the novel, email me at fharvor AT yahoo DOT com.