What kind of knowledge
do we hope to derive from reading novels, which tell us stories we know are not
“true”? One traditional answer to that
question is: knowledge of the human heart, or mind. The novelist has intimate
access to the secret thoughts of characters denied to the historian, the
biographer or even the psychoanalyst.
The novel, therefore, can offer us more or less convincing models of how
and why people act as they do.
Not my words but those David Lodge, one of my favourite
authors, in his thought-provoking book The
Art of Fiction. Organised into fifty
short chapters, starting with ‘beginning’, David Lodge uses well-chosen
extracts to illustrate almost every aspect of fiction. One of those rare books that you can open at any
page and start reading; I guarantee that both readers and writers of fiction
will learn something every time.
For example, I just opened it in the section on ‘an
unreliable narrator’. David Lodge
observes that, "The point of using an unreliable narrator is to reveal in an
interesting way the gap between appearance and reality, and to show how human
beings distort or conceal the latter." I
recently struggled with a historical fiction novel with a very unreliable
narrator but now appreciate that it made me really think about the events being
described.
The Art of Fiction rounds
off with ’endings’ and a nice point from another of my favourite authors, Jane
Austen, that a novelist cannot conceal the timing of the end of their story
because of the tell-tale compression of the pages. Lodge ends a consideration
of the resolution (or deliberate non-resolution) of questions raised in the mind
of the reader by the narrative with an observation on the limitations of the
English language: “A novel is a Gestalt,
a German word for which there is no exact English equivalent, possessing qualities
as a whole that cannot be described merely as a sum of its parts.”
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