Narrator

What types of narrators are there? The first major distinction critics make about narrators is by person:

a FIRST PERSON narrator is an "I" (occasionally a "we") who speaks from her/his subject position. That narrator is usually a character in the story, who interacts with other characters; we see those interactions through the narrator's eyes, and we can't know anything the narrator doesn't know.

a SECOND PERSON narrator speaks in "you." This is an extremely rare case in American literature, although we will read a few examples.

a THIRD PERSON narrator is not a figure in the story, but an "observer" who is outside the action being described. A third-person narrator might be omniscient (ie, able to tell what all the characters are thinking), but that is not always the case. Third-person narration may also be focalized through a particular character, meaning that the narrator tells us how that character sees the world, but can't, or at least doesn't, read the mind of all the characters this way.




The role of the narrator is integral to the success of our narrative, the narrator is somewhat outside the cast, in the main observing rather than taking part in the action of the story. What can the way in which the narrator relays the story give us an insight into the persona of the narrator? In many ways the narrator seems to be in a place of authority as it is he/she who decides what parts of the story are revealed to us.

One example that came to mind (though certainly not resolved) is the boy who narrates in "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time" , Mark Haddon. The 15 year old relays in minute detail the story even though much of it is beyond the realm of his understanding. But what, I found myself asking would happen if the narrator either was unable to tell the story or chose not to? Is it possible to have an untruthful narrator?

Perhaps most importantly, why is the narrator bothering to tell the story at all?


image via hello friend

Dubliners

The introduction to my copy of Dubliners (Penguin, 2000) contains the following extract from a young Joyce's letter to Nora Barnacle shortly after the death of his mother in 1904, when he was 22:

"My mind rejects the whole present social order and Christianity - home, the recognised virtues, classes of life and religious doctrines. How could I like the idea of home? My home was simply a middle-class affair ruined by spendthrift habits which I have inherited. My mother was slowly killed, I think, by my father's ill-treatment, by years of trouble, and by my cynical frankness of conduct. When I looked on her face as she lay in her coffin - a face grey and wasted with cancer - I understood that I was looking on the face of a victim and I cursed the system which had made her a victim."
(Letters, II, 48)

The extract is a scathing denouncement of Joyce's upbringing, rife with youthful disillusionment and the horror of awaking to find that his life has not in fact been as he had believed it to be. The inherent pathos of domesticity seems like interesting ground for exploration...


"There was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke. Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead, I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blind for I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a corpse."
The Sisters, p.1

New character of the voyeur, perhaps? Gazing into lit interiors is one of the greatest pleasures of the urban experience...

"I waited until his monologue paused again. Then I stood up abruptly. Lest I should betray my agitation I delayed a few moments pretending to fix my shoe properly and then, saying that I was obliged to go, I bade him good day. I went up the slope calmly but my heart was beating quickly with fear that he would seize me by the ankles. When I reached the top of the slope I turned round and, without looking at him, called loudly across the field:
- Murphy!
My voice had an accent of forced bravery in it and I was ashamed of my paltry stratagem. I had to call the name again before Mahony saw me and hallooed in answer. How my heart beat as he came running across the field to me! He ran as if to bring me aid."
An Encounter, p.20

This scene comes after two young boys skipping school encounter an eccentric older man in a field in Ringsend. The situation is every bit as suspicious as it sounds; the boys are uncomfortable in his presence and, at the beginning of this extract, the narrator decides to break away from the conversation. This piece reminded of the trepidation and fear that can characterise encounters with strangers, a quintessential part of an urban existence, and something which we have overlooked thus far.

"That night the city wore the mask of a capital. The five young men strolled along Stephen's Green in a faint cloud of aromatic smoke. They talked loudly and gaily and their cloaks dangled from their shoulders. The people made way for them."
After the Race, p.39

Interesting for a couple of reasons. Really like the description of Dublin as wearing "the mask of a capital", and, although my footnotes suggest that this refers to the fact that the country was, at this time, governed from London rather than Dublin, I prefer to associate it with those brief moments where Limerick feels superficially like "a real city". The characters are also relevant for our purposes; perhaps this kind of extroversion (at night, in groups) is what we have been thinking of?




Image via http://www.flickr.com/photos/bg/4365402771/. Interestingly, it formed part of a physically disconnected, loosely defined virtual reading group's response to the stories. More info on the project here: http://motleyread.posterous.com/reading-joyces-dubliners-join-in-the-fun

A stranger in his own home

"He could see through the crack of the door that the gas was turned on in the living-room, but while usually at this time his father made a habit of reading the afternoon newspaper in a loud voice to his mother and occasionally to his sister as well, not a sound was now to be heard. Well, perhaps his father had recently given up this habit of reading aloud, which his sister had mentioned so often in conversation and in her letters. But there was the same silence all around, although the flat was certainly not empty of occupants. 'What a quiet life our family has been leading,' said Gregor to himself, and as he sat there motionless staring into darkness he felt great pride in the fact that he had been able to provide such a life for his parents and sister in such a fine flat."

Franz Kafka, Metamorphosis, p.20

The image is another untitled Gregory Crewdson photograph.

Joyce, Woolf and urban characters

Have come across an interesting article in the Blackwell City Reader by Jeri Johnson that discusses the readings of character and city in the work of Joyce and Woolf. It is partially available online through Google Books (http://tiny.cc/QYdKG), but there is also a copy in the library, call number 307.76/BRI.

Image via http://www.flickr.com/photos/pitmanra/1331950209/

Talking Space

J: Listening, "This American Life" - 24 hour diner.

L: Cast of characters, Joyce's love of the flaneur/stranger,
(Leopold Bloom walking Dublin endlessly, but also his alienation in a socially & racially homogeneous city as a Jewish man)

Maybe we don't have to read Ulysses...Dubliners does many of the same things, but is much more accessible.

Internetz also pointed me towards "Mrs Dalloway", which I have actually read!

J: Joyce-Bloom, just occurred to me the book, "A Curious Impulse" (UCD MA) also focused on domestic and character- worth a look for sure.

Sebastian Fawlks also, "Engleby"- stranger/pervert??...outcast, alienation, intense character development.

Still mainly drawn to cities for some reason-even though site doesn't call for this!...perhaps need to also look to village/ small town...Mc Gahern or the likes, well maybe not Mc Gahern!

L: Tell me more about the "A Curious Impulse"...

Sebastian Faulks, good suggestion haven't read him, but am sure you can direct me to the best of his back catalogue!

Cities actually kind of make sense to me as the setting, though I am open to investigation of village simultaneously (of course!). Dubliners & Joyce interesting because he straddles both worlds.

J: Indeed agree with your Joycian musings- perhaps we could have a race to the end of Ulysses!

Curious Impulse bought in the winding stair features in the bear hat photos!

Umm Faulks yes-maybe viaale in "Through the windows of wonder", bit sentimental but you would appreciate the ironic sub-text!

What would happen if the cast were to be displaced? Out of context characters...

L: I love ironic sub texts!

What I like so much about the cast is that they can be take on many different roles throughout the entire process- I had considered that a moment of displacement would occur by way of programme we are looking at the moment. Do you know what I mean? I'm not really being clear enough. I guess my point is that in the practise of everyday life, all our "characters" are displaced at regular intervals, and that our context is ever changing.

(we are sometimes out of context, sometimes we adapt, chameleon-like, to where we find ourselves).

Fiction?

‘As an object a book can sit around for years, resting comfortably on a library shelf, but as a text, it does not exist at all unless it is read, interpreted, understood.’ –D. G. Myers

the new shelton wet/dry

smoker/flaneur/extrovert/storyteller

Thinking a bit more about the cast of characters idea, perhaps it would be sensible to read some Benjamin/Baudelaire on the flaneur? May also throw up some ideas as to the makeup of the rest of the cast... As an aside, Benjamin was apparently an ardent archivist, not only with regard to his own work and to collections, but also engaging with the concept of archive (see image above)