In these dark times, sometimes I enjoy going darker still: like lamenting my personal big bang when scientists declared the universe “open” and all meaning lost. But other moments, in more of a PB&J kind of mood, I might find some distracting joy in sleuthing the weird history of an animal expression and making a white fish blush.
My daughter started this habit by suggesting a while back I explore the Bee’s Knees, which proved one of my more popular excursions. In more recent weeks: I chased down the Scapegoat nibbling the laundry and cornered the Elephant in the Room with its unspoken secrets. To add a third point to my guilty-pleasure series of creatures sacrificed metaphorically to our human foibles, I have to spend some time this week—as a Danish descendent of sailor stock and pescatarian—with Red Herrings.
I honestly needed to start from scratch on this one. I know about pickled herrings from the jar of them that my dad would devour in their vinegary onion marinade as if a rare treat. To me herrings come in only this silvery white version, and I admit I loved them then too but haven’t ever bought a jar myself; the memory is still strong enough to enjoy from that distant door of my parents’ fridge. Are these fish ever red? How did slippery little herrings get mixed up with throwing us off the trail?
Ah, so it turns out, if I ever ate a cured herring rather then solely pickled, I would have known about the various colors of this fish. A herring goes red (or dark brown) when cured by salt and slow smoke. But it’s the part 2 definition of this that summons the literary possibilities that excite me most:
From Merriam-Webster:
[from the practice of drawing a red herring across a trail to confuse hunting dogs] : something that distracts attention from the real issue
Believe it or not, red herring has as much to do with hunting dogs as with brightly colored fish. Here’s how: A herring is a soft-finned bony fish. People who like to eat herring have long preserved them by salting and slowly smoking them. That process makes a herring turn red or dark brown—and gives them a very strong smell. Dogs love to sniff such smelly treats, a fact that makes the fish a perfect diversion for anyone trying to distract hunting dogs from the trail of their quarry. The practice of using preserved fish to confuse hunting dogs led to the use of the term red herring for anything that diverts attention from the issue at hand.
So it’s a multi-species expression ultimately, luring dogs with these smelly fish. Not to mention the unknown animal being hunted (the above-mentioned “quarry”) that we want to divert the dogs away from for reasons also unknown. So there’s a whole host of creatures here packed into two words with the secret puppeteer being the manipulative Human. It’s an entire show with a cast of characters playing their roles for our amusement. I don’t mean to harp on this, but I don’t think I’ve ever come across a concept so crowded with different lurking characters (albeit off-stage).
What are some notable red herrings in popular culture? Politicians’ mouths are packed full of them. True crime of course can’t get enough of this dubious stink-fish. In many fictional books, especially detective stories and thrillers, it’s a common (necessary) plot device, to throw the reader off the course of truth with a tricky diversion. The goal is crafting a surprising twist no one sees coming, as opposed to a clumsier reveal not done artfully but annoyingly that only pisses people off (see: politician).
A few more contemporary red herrings in cinema from Industrialscripts include:
Sixth Sense (1999)—Remember the kid Cole who sees dead people and the shrink Malcolm who tries to help the boy out of his “delusion”? But, surprise, Malcolm is the actual dead person in this scenario and the one with the major conflict to resolve (like accepting his ghosthood).
Gone Girl (2014)—The audience believes Amy is the victim and she turns out to be the killer.
But you can’t have a conversation about red herrings without going back to the master Alfred Hitchcock and Psycho.
The classic psychological horror follows Marion Crane, a woman who stole $40,000 dollars, until her untimely death at the Bates Motel. The skittish proprietor [Norman] of the motel ultimately cleans up the crime scene (including unknowingly getting rid of the stolen money). But misfortune seems to befall him regardless of his efforts with investigations and more murder occurring before the end of the film.
Where are the red herrings in all this? Well, practically everywhere. One of the main red herrings is actually the movie’s use of violins, which constantly feature and build up, implying that something sinister is coming. Typically though, no twist or major plot development happens when they play. In the end, they are mostly used to distract and build up the audience’s suspense.
Of course, the other main red herring lies in Norman’s mother. Presented by the movie and Norman as always sitting by the window, constantly uncooperative, and ever-controlling of her son, audiences fully expect her to be the psycho. In reality, she was a distraction tool. Norman was really “Mother” and the killer the whole time.
See? This whole thing is just a ruse. It’s been a Mother’s Day post all along…
When we go deeper on this as a literary device in fiction, we get to talk about fun things like fallacies. There’s great further nuance to these red herrings to be unpacked in this article on Literarydevices:
Red herrings are an example of an informal fallacy. While a formal fallacy contains a flaw in logic, an informal fallacy is an argument that often contains a flaw in reasoning.
Informal in that the device works technically but not actually, but also may be intentional—in the real world only. In a true crime investigation, a red herring might be any evidence “that later proves to be irrelevant.” However, in the world of art and literature, all red herrings are intentional, dangled by the author to distract that dog (the audience). The article provides a list of other intentional informal fallacies, in case you’re wanting for more fallacies to mess with:
Ad Hominem Attacks: Insulting someone’s character to undermine that person, instead of focusing on the strength of the person’s arguments.
Non Sequitur: Making a jump in logic so that there is no connective tissue from one statement to the next.
Either-Or Fallacy: Creating a false dichotomy to oversimplify a situation.
Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc (also known as Post Hoc): Identifying false causality, basing a conclusion solely on the chronology of events.
Bandwagon Effect: Asserting that something must be true because everyone says that it is true.
Straw man: Misrepresenting an opponent’s stance in order to refute that false argument and create the illusion that one has defeated the opponent.
Which is to say, humans and their deceptive use of language is really mindbendingly confusing. But what might render us insane in real life, seems to be something we gravitate to in stories. Some of the most classic literary examples of red herrings happen in:
Great Expectations (1861) by Charles Dickens has one in Miss Havisham, the odd old woman both the reader and protagonist Pip are both meant to suspect is his secret wealthy benefactor. Surprisingly, it’s not her but rather an escaped convict Pip once helped.
Agatha Christie’s And Then Were None (1939), 100M copies sold and counting. Ten people invited to a remote island, greeted by a version of the poem “Ten Little Indians.” People die off one by one in fashions similar to those depicted line by line for each little Indian.
Ten little Indian boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were nine.
Nine little Indian boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight.
Eight little Indian boys traveling in Devon;
One said he'd stay there and then there were seven.
Seven little Indian boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.
Six little Indian boys playing with a hive;
A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.
Five little Indian boys going in for law;
One got in Chancery and then there were four.
When there are only four people left on the island, one goes missing and the remaining three assume that he must be the killer. Instead, they later find his body washed up onshore. Therefore, his absence was a red herring that misled the characters and, presumably, the reader. Indeed, this parallels the line of the poem about a red herring swallowing the fourth-to-last boy:
Four little Indian boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.
Three little Indian boys walking in the zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were two.
Two Little Indian boys sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was one.
One little Indian boy left all alone;
He went out and hanged himself and then there were none.
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From dubious stink fish to more non sequitors, I loved this post! Red herrings, the definition, the source, are so fascinating (so many players as you say) and when done well in fiction or movies, can be so surprising and when done poorly, stink like the fish moniker.