One aspect of Anthony Trollope’s first two books in the Chronicles of Barsetshire series, The Warden and Barchester Towers, is the
shifting and playful point of view that the author presents. Both novels are
written mostly in third-person point of view. However, at times in the
narrative, the prose shifts into first-person. Trollope actually uses at least two
different forms of first-person. Very occasionally, he puts himself into the
story and recounts conversations that he has had with various characters. At
other times, quite often in fact, he actually refers to himself as a novelist
and refers to the story as something that he has created. He also directly addresses
the reader, calling him or her, “reader”.
One of my favorite instances of this occurs in Barchester Towers. The
widowed Eleanor Bold is beginning to be wooed by several men, including the
scheming and manipulative Mr. Slope and the buffoonish and narcissistic Bertie
Stanhope. These attempted courtships become a major narrative thread that
weaves itself around much of the balance of the novel. At this early stage, Trollope
reveals the ultimate outcome,
But let the gentle-hearted reader
be under no apprehension whatsoever. It is not destined that Eleanor shall
marry Mr. Slope or Bertie Stanhope.
Why does Trollope reveal this milestone in the plot so far
advance? The reader has no need to speculate. Trollope explains exactly why he
does this.
And here perhaps it may be
allowed to the novelist to explain his views on a very important point in the
art of telling tales. He ventures to reprobate that system which goes so far to
violate all proper confidence between the author and his readers by maintaining
nearly to the end of the third volume a mystery as to the fate of their
favourite personage. Nay, more, and worse than this, is too frequently done. Have not often the
profoundest efforts of genius been used to baffle the aspirations of the
reader, to raise false hopes and false fears, and to give rise to expectations
which are never to be realized? Are not promises all but made of delightful
horrors, in lieu of which the writer produces nothing but most commonplace
realities in his final chapter?
Trollope goes on for several additional paragraphs, explaining why
he eschews this form of literary suspense. He even mentions Ann Radcliffe by
name, as well as several of Jane Austin’s characters, as he playfully
criticizes books that rely too much upon suspense as a plot technique. Within
this digression, he also creates a mini comedy as an example. A loose-lipped girl named Susan reveals vital
plot details to her sibling, Kitty. Susan and Kitty are not characters in the main
narrative. They are just a duo that Trollope creates to make his not so serious
point. After the secret is revealed, he presents us with a dialog between the
two,
"How very ill-natured
you are, Susan," says Kitty with tears in her eyes: "I don't care a
bit about it now."
Trollope next directly addresses Kitty,
Dear Kitty, if you will read my
book, you may defy the ill-nature of your sister. There shall be no secret that
she can tell you. Nay, take the third volume if you please— learn from the last
pages all the results of our troubled story, and the story shall have lost none
of its interest, if indeed there be any interest in it to lose.
I find this marvelously inventive and amusing. I think that
Trollope does succeed in creating a certain intimacy with his readers here. It
is insightful as well as fun the way that he is letting us in a little on the
details of his writing process. Though these variations and digressions seem to
be presented in a tongue in cheek and ironic style, I do think that they are
meant to say something about writing. Before reading the above, I thought that
I was the only one that thought that sometimes too much suspense can actually
mar a story that includes very strong and aesthetically pleasing characters.
There is another passage included in the book that once again
cleverly plays this game. At one point, Eleanor is speaking to a much more honorable
love interest, Reverend Francis Arabin. A misunderstanding occurs and Eleanor
is angry, essentially because Arabin does not explain the situation,
Everything would have been
explained, and Eleanor would have gone back to Barchester with a contented
mind. How easily would she have forgiven and …had she but heard the whole truth
from Mr. Arabin. But then where would
have been my novel?
That last line is priceless.
There are many additional examples of all this sprinkled
throughout the narrative.
Without a doubt Trollope’s unconventional twists in his point of
view liven up these novels. I tend to be a hound for innovation and variation
in storytelling as I think that such experiments add diversity and spice to
literature. As I continue to read Trollope I will be persistently watching for
more of these intriguing digressions in his prose.
My commentary on The Warden is here.
