Fiction is an Art

The chapter Narrating, in James Wood's How Fiction Works speaks on the cons and pros of third person verses first person. They each have their own benefits and negatives: according to Wood, first person narrative, while seeming to be unreliable, can be "reliably unreliable", as we get to know the character and learn what is true and what is not. Third person omniscient narration, on the other hand, while covering many characters, portrays an author more than the character of whom he/she is describing.

Of this I have to agree. First person narrative often gives more character and personality to the protagonist- not only do we see the character's actions and expressions, but his thoughts- all with a certain pizazz and closeness. In third person, novels take a removed point of view, and, if the author is not an excellent one, a less exciting relationship with the characters, story, and themes of the novel. However, third person can also cover a lot more- creating a different mood for a different kind of book. I have to say that it depends on the author, story, and novel- at times first person is needed, and at others third. There is not black and white way to write fiction- it is an art.

In this aspect Wood seemed to agree with me. He continued on to say that solely third person is not possible: a good author will combine the two, in what the author calls "free indirect speech or style". The narration still is in third person- yet in manages to include the voice of the characters. One example that Wood gives is in What Maisie Knew, by Henry James. The last sentence in the excerpt- "Mrs. Wix was as safe as Clara Matilda, who was in heaven and yet, embarrassingly, also in Kensal Green, where they had been together to see her little huddled grave" Wood analyzes to show the diction James uses to portray both himself and Maisie. The word "embarrassingly" is Maisie's word, a word that conveys Maisie's embarrassment "for a child to witness adult grief, and embarrasing that a body could be both up in heaven and solidly in the ground", as well as the adult opinion of Mrs. Wix. However, the word "huddled" is written by the author for the reader- giving us a picture of the scene and the atmosphere that Maisie need not give.

Wood continues with examples of free indirect speech- and the points he makes are good. It is excellent to mix both first and third person together, but I have to disagree with one thing Wood has said. When he says that specific words are at times the author's when it should be the character's, I can agree with him. However, I do not think that the author and the character should be entirely separate. Cannot the author be the character, or the scene, or the animal? I think any book, whether it is fact or fiction, contains an element of the author- and it should. Some good authors become a part of the story- and without them there, the story would not seem as real. There is no "correct" style to write fiction: like art, it depends on interpretation.

McCormick, in The Road, uses free indirect style quite well. Mixing descriptions of actions and the scene with the thoughts of the father, images are created both by the author as well as the development of the characters. One example I think brilliantly portrays this is on page 256.

"He looked at them. He looked at the boy. He was an outcast from one of the communes and the fingers of his right hand had been cut away. He tried to hide it behind him. A sort of fleshy spatula. The cart was piled high. He'd taken everything."

Here, a father and his son find the thief that stole all of their belongings. While this is clearly third-person, with everything being described by the author- "He was an outcast from one of the communes...", giving a context to who the thief is, McCormick also manages to describe the thief's hand as "a sort of fleshy spatula". Not only is this absolutely repulsive, and stomach-churning, but a word that seems to be the character's. While further discussing the thief's hand, it is a word chosen by the father- and reveals not only who the thief is, but the father's. I have to say, upon seeing a hand without any fingers, "a sort of fleshy spatula" are not the first words I would think of. By thinking of these words first, the father is shown that things considered absolutely repulsive and stomach-churning are not in The Road.

All of this intricate web of alternating third-person and first narrations brings together a whole story, mood, and way of reading. One thing is for sure: what McCormick does- or all fiction writers, for that matter, is an art.