I'm Telling You to Live

October 26, 2009

Confessions of a Mistaken Narrator

Filed under: Weekly Blog Entries — jbrousseau @ 11:46 pm
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The final section of Morrison’s Jazz truly allows readers to appreciate the difficulty of expressing the experience of observed individuals. This struggle stems from the absence of primary knowledge and description of events, something that can only be truly gained by having experienced an event in the first person. Although Morrison is able to articulate varying scenes and emotions exemplified by the characters (Joe, Violet, Dorcas, etc.), she also admits restrictions held on a third-party narrator. “I thought I knew them and wasn’t worried that they didn’t know about me…They knew how little I could be counted on; how poorly, how shabbily my know-it-all self covered hopelessness. That when I invented stories about them—and doing it seemed to me so fine—I was completely in their hands, managed without mercy…So I missed it altogether.” (Morrison, 220) Not only does this profession hint at the hopeless nature of describing experience second-hand, it also serves to infer that various accounts of seemingly true experience may in fact be the creation of gap-closing on the part of the narrator, making it essentially unreliable.

This brings up a significantly relevant question in regards to our classroom experiment: how are we to express the experience of others? It is apparent now that secondary explanation of first hand experience holds little merit, and that other modes of expression must be created. Although Morrison’s implementation of the unknown narrator held, admittedly so, a myriad number of faults, I believe she was on to something in regards to using the “beat” of Jazz and its “instruments” while writing the novel, and this creative mode of expression should be further investigated.

September 15, 2009

Narrator Reliability in “The Great Gatsby”

Throughout his text, Abbot speaks of the reliability of the narrator as being one of the central manners in which the reader interprets a novel’s characters and plot. The narrator of The Great Gatsby is Nick Carraway, an individual so involved with the various characters of the narrative that his account itself turns into an impressionistic report. Because of this subjective story telling, one has a difficult time knowing how to feel about the characters themselves. Does Nick’s friendship with Gatsby shed a more positive light to his past exploits and personality? Is Nick’s perception of Daisy and Tom so personally biased that the reader feels they must dislike them as much as Nick?
This sense of unreliability compares almost identically with the narrator Nelly who recounts the tale of Wuthering Heights. Nelly served as maid for the Earnshaws and eventually Heathcliff himself. Many readers accuse Nelly of being too lax in her personal condemnation of Heathcliff’s actions, while being too harsh in her criticism of Catherine. Based on these observations, one may note that the reader may feel more inclined to have sympathy for Heathcliff and his broken heart, rather than for Catherine, even upon her death.
There are various reasons why Fitzgerald may have chosen Nick to be so involved with the other characters of the novel while also acting as the narrator. For one, it makes the story more realistic and lends it an air of credibility. How better to construct a seemingly practical and honest novel than to include a narrator with his own feelings and narrative himself? Another reason Fitzgerald may have implemented this type of narration is to present the reader with a realistic sense of memory. Throughout the novel, Nick holds vague descriptions of time, and presents openly questionable events as well as time gaps in his recount of Gatsby’s tale. For example, on page 224 of the novel, Fitzgerald alludes to a conversation between Wilson and Tom that was left out of the novel, and eventually led to Gatsby’s death. “’Tom,’ I inquired, ‘what did you say to Wilson that afternoon?’ He stared at me without a word, and I knew I had guessed right about those missing hours.” (Fitzgerald 224). By purposefully disallowing Nick to have attendance at this meeting, and then later bringing up the conversation in the novel, the reader is allowed to make their own inferences about the events leading up to Gatsby’s death. A commonly thinking reader will deduct that Tom Buchanan told Wilson that he was not the individual driving the yellow car, but in fact, Gatsby had been the one behind the wheel, which in turn caused Wilson to kill Gatsby.
Another noticeable gap in Nick’s account of Gatsby’s story happens on page 203, when Wilson terminally shoots Gatsby—or so it would seem; so our inferences tell us. The truth is, Nick was not present for this event, and in turn leaves it very open to our own interpretation of the events. “The chauffeur—he was one of Wolfsheim’s protoges—heard the shots—afterward he could only say that he hadn’t thought anything much about them…It was after we started with Gatsby toward the house that the gardener saw Wilson’s body a little way off the grass, and the holocaust was complete.” (Fitzgerald 203-204). Most readers would believe that Wilson shot Gatsby and then turned the gun on himself, crazy with the grief of his late wife’s death. Others may hold different interpretations of these clues. Perhaps Gatsby had fought Wilson for the gun, shot the old man in self defense, and then turned the gun on himself as a result of his deep sense of loss in regards to Daisy. It makes sense doesn’t it? Gatsby had always believed in the hope of that green light across the bay. Perhaps the loss of this hope was just too much for him to bear. These differing interpretations bring a sense of mystery to the novel, and allow the reader to hold a more personal interpretation of its events, which in turn lends it a more realistic air.

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