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A NEW MODEL OF RELIABLE & UNRELIABLE NARRATION Abstract: In this essay I give an overview of the current account of unreliable narration as it applies to Ishiguro’s novel. I examine two critics, James Phalen and Brian Shaffer, and explain why their understanding of this particular narrative does not account for the interesting dynamic that the implied author establishes between the narrator and reader. Furthermore, I expand on Phalen’s “axis of knowledge and perception” to create a better model of reliable narration, based on consciousness and unconsciousness, that fully accounts for the aforementioned dynamic and its rhetorical effects on the audience. Kazuo Ishiguro received critical acclaim when, as his various critics assert, he effectively shaped “the depth and power” of his main character’s experience through several aspects of unreliable narration (Phalen 31). James Phalen has asserted that Stevens, the narrator in Ishiguro’s novel, utilizes up to six types of unreliable narration. Stevens neither reports as much he is aware of nor admits to the reader what he knows is true. In a sense, Stevens is masking his identity from the reader and omitting details in order to create suspense. Rather than having Stevens disclose his thoughts immediately, the implied author entices the reader by keeping numerous details of Stevens’s thought life secret. Significant time is needed, for instance, for the reader to fully comprehend Stevens’s feelings for Miss Kenton, and it is this time the reader devotes to reach the “climactic revelation” between these two characters (Phalen 37). This process of reaching the climax would not be nearly as engaging if all is divulged in the beginning. Such is the case for unreliable narration as a tool for building and maintaining suspense, yet I propose that, contrary to Phalen’s interpretation, it is Stevens’s reliable narration that creates a more engaging dynamic between the narrator and reader. Later on, as I add to Phalen’s “axis of knowledge and perception,” I will develop a new model of reliable narration that accounts more completely for the effectiveness of Ishiguro’s narrative work (Phalen 34). However, before we can successfully understand how this reliable narration operates, we must first carefully dismantle the argument for unreliable narration set both by Phalen and another critic I will discuss, among others. Looking first to Phalen’s argument, we see him cite various examples of unreliable narration throughout his rhetorical analysis which depict instances where Stevens supposedly chooses to withhold information from the reader. Specifically, Stevens chooses to underreport his feelings for Miss Kenton (Phalen 35). The reader is then left with the suspicion that Stevens feels more than he admits, and so the story becomes increasingly absorbing. Brian Shaffer, another critic I will include in the present analysis, also states that Stevens attempts to “characteristically mask or distort rather than uncover the true essence” of his tale in order to create an emotional climax (Shaffer 1). In this sense, Phalen and Shaffer agree that unreliability is at the source of Stevens’s narration. Not only does Stevens avoid divulging the full truth, but he goes so far as to “work hard to conceal the alarming significances and troubling consequences” of his past life (Shaffer 1). It is not an accident that Stevens gives an unreliable account of his story. Instead, we can assume that he has several reasons for not reporting certain details. Perhaps he is insecure or fearful of disclosing too much about his personal life, and so he decides to withhold information. Unreliable narration then seems intentional by nature, and it is at this point of intention, or “consciousness” as I will also refer to it, that Phalen’s and Shaffer’s argument break down under scrutiny. Since their argument for unreliable narration depends on the reading that Stevens intentionally conceals certain details, it would only be logical to assume that if Stevens unintentionally conceals details, details he might not be aware of, he would not be an unreliable narrator. In other words, if it could be demonstrated that Stevens unconsciously underreports, underregards, etc., throughout his narration, then he could be termed a “reliable narrator,” so long as a new model for reliable narration is established. The very fact is that, though it is implicit for the audience there is more to his emotions that he reports, Stevens does not possess the ability to report more accurate information simply because he is not certain of the depths of his own emotions. How, then, can he be underreporting, misreporting, and so on, if he is not consciously withholding information from the reader? Stevens may be underregarding when he says that “in bantering lies the key to human warmth,” but he nevertheless gives us a reliable account of the way he feels at that moment (Ishiguro 245). His perception may not be objectively accurate, but neither is it an unreliable account of his experience, or “story truth,” which I will also address later. Now, in contrast, if Stevens is aware that there is more to human warmth than bantering and is underreporting for some specific reason, he would certainly be an unreliable narrator in this instance; however, there is nothing in this passage or outside of it in context to suggest otherwise. The above statements require much more investigation, but most of all they require a new model of reliable narration that I will set forth momentarily. For now, let us look further into why various critics feel Stevens is an unreliable narrator. The previous points beg us, among other things, to examine several examples in Phalen’s and Shaffer’s case for unreliable narration. Phalen first cites an instance where Stevens initially reports to the reader that he, upon meeting Miss Kenton, is not sure what to make of her supposed contentment. Later on, however, “Stevens admits that Miss Kenton’s report of being content in her life breaks his heart” (Ishiguro 239). Stevens the narrator withholds that his heart truly is broken until several passages later. This moment in the narrative, Phalen states, is a clear example of underreporting. I propose, however, after judging the evidence, that Stevens reports accurately in this passage. Phalen seems to have ignored the fact that Stevens initially is skeptical of the validity of Miss Kenton’s report. He suspects that she has been “ill-treated in some way” and that she desires to return to Darlington Hall (Ishiguro 238). Contrary to Phalen’s misconception, Stevens believes that Miss Kenton is very much discontented with her life; such is the very reason he ventures off on the road trip in the beginning. In the letter that Stevens reads repeatedly, Miss Kenton states, “The rest of my life stretches out like an emptiness before me” (Ishiguro 236). Therefore, it is only natural for Stevens to doubt Miss Kenton’s claim of contentment, and it is only several passages later that he realizes she will not be returning to Darlington Hall. After she says, “. . . my rightful place is with my husband . . . there’s no turning back the clock now,” he realizes he has already relinquished the chance for a more intimate relationship with her, a relationship that belongs only to her husband now, whether she is content or not (Ishiguro 239). In his next instance of reporting, he admits his heart is breaking when she says those quoted words. Consequently, I contend that not only is Stevens not underreporting, but his broken heart has little to do with Miss Kenton’s report of being content, and all to do with the realization that he has lost his chance to live a different sort of life with her. Phalen both misinterprets the scene and utilizes the misinterpretation to locate a passage which supports his argument for unreliable narration. As it turns out, Stevens reliably reports how his heart breaks after Miss Kenton conveys that their time together has passed, the implication of which is that she will not be returning to Darlington Hall. In addition, though minor instances of unreliability occur along the various axes Phalen describes, such trivial occurrences demonstrate that Phalen has difficulty supporting his argument, or otherwise more conclusive examples would have been implemented. For instance, Phalen cites Stevens when he says that the English landscape is “the most deeply satisfying in the world” (Ishiguro 28). While this is an instance of misreading, it is insignificant in the context of the narrative. Stevens, not having traveled extensively throughout the world, would certainly be biased in his account of the landscape, as would many citizens of their own countries, but such a trivial example of misreading should not characterize a narrator as unreliable unless numerous other instances occur; in this case they do not. As I initially stated, a new model of unreliable and reliable narration must be established to thoroughly appreciate the dynamic between the narrator and reader. In Booth’s 1961 book The Rhetoric of Fiction, he classifies the “unreliable narrator” as someone who, for example, withholds information to deceive an audience, or whose personal bias creates too much of a subjective truth to be taken at face value. He also states, after describing the objectivity an author should establish in his works, that “no author can ever attain this kind of objectivity” (Booth 68). To even say “objective author” is an oxymoron, it seems. In other words, every author writes with a bias, so each character narrates with a bias. The issue of unreliable narration then has little to do with whether the narrator is biased, since all are, but more to do with the issue of whether he is consciously misguiding the reader with that bias. Booth goes on to say that “the implied author chooses, consciously or unconsciously, what we read” (Booth 74). I would build on this idea of the consciousness by adding, moving from implied author to narrator, that if a narrator consciously misleads the audience, as Booth’s implied author might, then he is an unreliable narrator. Nevertheless, there are reasons that some narrators should be unreliable; this does not necessarily mean they are “bad” narrators. Tim O’ Brien, for instance, in The Things They Carried, explains to the reader that “story truth is sometimes truer than happening truth,” and so he purposefully embellishes to a substantial degree in order to enable the reader to visualize the story truth that he experiences (O’ Brien 179). Consequently, O’ Brien has been viewed as an unreliable narrator, so the reader cannot take his account of the story at face value. The reliable narrator, however, unconsciously portrays his bias and, without deceit, leads the reader to an understanding of his own perception, just as Stevens does. Now a new model for unreliable and reliable narration can be established along the axis of knowledge and perception, or consciousness (if we are to merge the concepts of Booth and Phalen). If a narrator consciously omits details and limits his reporting to the reader, among other things, then he misleads the reader and should be considered unreliable. This might apply to works such as The Things They Carried and Lolita. If a narrator is unconscious of his own bias or lack of knowledge, he does not purposefully mislead the reader and should be considered reliable. Along the axis of knowledge and perception, the unreliable narrator has knowledge and perception that he consciously limits for the reader; the reliable narrator communicates all of the knowledge and perception he has, remaining unconscious of anything beyond his scope. We might ask why a character with biases and limited perspective is reliable. For this we will have to delve more into the concept of story truth. O’ Brien is correct when he says that story truth can be truer than happening truth. In the case of Stevens, however, there is only story truth; this is because Stevens’s story is primarily a story of emotions, not events. His story is one of realizing his feelings for Miss Kenton, and the road trip is merely a landscape to set the stage. If it is true that Stevens is uncertain of his emotions, then an objective narrator would be incapable of claiming Stevens felt one way or another. Therefore, all we have is Stevens’s personal account, his own ambivalence and confusion: his story truth. To clarify this point, the happening truth, or objective truth, is merely that Stevens takes a road trip to see an old friend. These are facts. What is uncertain or ambiguous is the story truth: Stevens’s roller coaster of emotions that can neither be pinpointed nor even described in exhaustive detail. Since Stevens is communicating his story truth to the best of his ability, he is giving a reliable account of his experience even though he has a limited perception of himself. For instance, when Miss Kenton accepts an engagement proposal, Stevens responds without even a modicum of enthusiasm: “Indeed, Miss Kenton. That is very interesting . . . But I repeat, there are matters of global significance upstairs and I must return to my post” (Ishiguro 215). Now, perhaps there is ultimately more to Stevens’s true reaction to the news that only the implied author is aware of. Perhaps, if he had been more introspective at this point in his life, he might realize a slight affection for Miss Kenton and be disappointed by the news. Nevertheless, these romantic, subconscious feelings do not finally manifest themselves until the climax. Therefore, Stevens’s limited account of his reaction demonstrates his current preoccupation with maintaining dignity as a butler. The reader, as a consequence, experiences this moment in the same way Stevens experiences it, and this account is more reliable because it accurately illustrates the story truth of the experience. Hopefully it is clearer at this point why Stevens is to be considered a reliable narrator. Other places in the narrative, traditionally considered unreliable, also assist the reader in understanding the story truth. Coming from a line of butlers, Stevens is preoccupied with his own concept of dignity, as mentioned before. His preoccupation leads him to avoid developing any kind of more personal relationship with Miss Kenton. In the end, the preoccupation is responsible for his broken heart, for when he realizes his true feelings, it is too late to act. Now, returning to Phalen’s and Shaffer’s point of view, if Stevens is an unreliable narrator who consciously withholds his feelings from the reader, the reader is waiting for Stevens to reveal his feelings rather than struggling with him to discover what they truly are. In a different sense, the audience, rather than waiting for the wizard to pull back the green curtain, is working together with the wizard to pull back it back. Since Stevens’s emotions, from the perspective of the reliable narrator, are not self evident and certain, the reader is engaged in the process of understanding the confusion from a personal point of view. The main point to be clarified is that if we are to label this story as an account of unreliable narration, we miss the dynamic between reader and narrator that the implied author has established. In other words, is this story a suspenseful waiting for the revelation of Stevens’s hidden emotions, or is it a journey that ends in the climactic realization that Stevens does truly love Miss Kenton? Is Stevens conscious, or is he unconscious of his emotions? The answers to these questions determine the reader’s role in the narrative. If Stevens is unconscious of his emotions, as I have cited evidence for, then the reader has a much more active role in analyzing Stevens’s character, as if the reader must put pieces of a puzzle together, a puzzle that Stevens himself is attempting to piece together. In this sense, both reader and narrator are in the active process of discovery, the effect of which is much more engaging than if the narrator has the puzzle already completed and is merely revealing it piece by piece; yes, this is suspenseful, but the reader becomes an uninvolved observer rather than an active participant. When Stevens decides to take the road trip in the beginning, for example, both he and the reader aren’t completely sure what the motivations for his journey are. The reader suspects he might have an affection for Miss Kenton, but the not knowing, the uncertainty that both narrator and reader share, creates a dynamic atmosphere where they must proceed on an introspective trek into the unknown. There are instances of this dynamic throughout the narrative. When Miss Kenton observes Stevens reading a romance book, he narrates afterward, “Why should one not enjoy in a lighthearted sort of way stories of ladies and gentlemen who fall in love and express their feelings for each other, often in the most elegant phrases?” (Ishiguro 168). If this comes from an unreliable narrator, obviously we suspect that Stevens is toying with the reader, and he continues to underreport his emotions. However, if this comes from a reliable narrator then we as readers are given a piece of the puzzle to Stevens’s emotions. Although he is preoccupied with preserving his dignity and professionalism as a butler, we now understand there is a chance he might develop his feelings for Miss Kenton and change the course of his life. We are, in a sense, active in discerning Stevens’s fate. It should be evident now that viewing Stevens as a reliable narrator is not only logical, but beneficial to the dynamic between reader and narrator. From the perspective of reliable narration, the authorial audience is enabled to experience the story truth of Stevens’s introspective narrative while sorting through the ambivalence and confusion that he constantly wrestles with on his journey through England. In conclusion, to relate back to a Burkean frame of mind, our perception of Stevens as a reliable narrator, under a newfound model of reliable and unreliable narration, allows Ishiguro’s work to achieve its full effect, namely the interpersonal dynamic between narrator and reader. If we are to look at effects, as Burke would have us do, the first and foremost effect being eloquence, then the reliable narrative creates not just a typical story of suspense, but a story in which both narrator and reader struggle for abstract truths of life, love, dignity, and devotion. The narrative achieves a universal appeal, Burke might say, and the pattern of experience, that being the introspective struggle, is a pattern all humans can relate to, appreciate, and become fully engaged in (Burke 150). In light of these ideas, Ishiguro’s narrative can be fully appreciated for its tremendous effects on the audience and for its formal eloquence as a portrayal of the personal struggle for emotional clarity.
Works Cited Booth, Wayne C. The Rhetoric of Fiction. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961. Burke, Kenneth. Counter-Statement. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1931. Ishiguro, Kazuo. Interview with Brian W. Shaffer. Contemporary Literature 42 (2001): 1-14. Wisconsin: University of Wisconsin Press. Ishiguro, Kazuo. The Remains of the Day. New York: Vintage Books, 1988. O’ Brien, Tim. The Things They Carried. New York: Broadway Books, 1990.
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