Subjective Narration in "The Moonstone"
Wilkie Collins’ "The Moonstone" is the first mystery novel of its kind and is an example of reader-interactive literature. Collins employs subjective narration, a technique that allows the reader to be directly involved in piecing together the mystery of the stolen Moonstone and furthers the novel’s sense of paranoia. The different perspectives offered by the narrators give the reader a chance to play detective. Although each narration is divided into separate accounts given by different characters involved in the mystery, the narrative transitions are smooth because of their common tie: solving the mystery of the Moonstone.
The notion of subjective narration is introduced when Betteredge, on receiving a request from Franklin Blake, explains the purpose of his account to the reader by writing, “In this matter of the Moonstone the plan is, not to present reports, but to produce witnesses” (Collins 254). This immediately reveals that the descriptions to follow are based on the character’s personal experience with the mystery of the Moonstone, and because of personal opinions, biases, and knowledge the character may or may not possess, the account cannot be completely trusted. The reader must decide which details are insignificant subjective opinions, while employing his own detective skills to understand the truly important information offered by each report—the events and facts conducive to finding the truth behind the mystery of the Moonstone.
Therefore, the reader becomes a detective seeking truth along with Collins’ characters. A feeling of paranoia gradually increases throughout the text as a result. Assuming that it is possible that each narrator has misrepresented certain situations with personal opinions or a lack of necessary knowledge, who can the reader trust? Betteredge, though kindly, obviously misinterprets various pieces of information. For example, he wrongly believes Rachel is in love with Godfrey Ablewhite instead of Franklin Blake saying, “Mr. Franklin’s chance of topping Mr. Godfrey in our young lady’s estimation was, in my opinion, a very poor chance indeed” (110). Similarly, Miss Clack idolizes Godfrey, her “precious and admirable friend” (258), when it is later proved that he is in fact the devious thief behind the Moonstone’s disappearance. Finally, the addition of the mind-altering drug opium plays a part in distorting the facts of Franklin Blake’s narrative. Unintentionally, Blake deceives the reader by leaving out an account of his actions under the influence of opium. It is Ezra Jennings who reveals to Blake that he “took the Diamond, in a state of trance, produced by opium” (453).
In addition to creating a sense of mistrust from the reader’s point of view, the individual narratives create the story’s momentum. Collins’ narrators do not repeat previous information because they begin their narratives in turn. For example, at the end of his narrative, Betteredge notes that, “you are likely to be turned over to Miss Clack, after parting with me” (252). Conjointly, the change in narration provides chances for the story to change its scenery. The reader moves with the narrators from the Verinder’s country estate, to London with Miss Clack, and back to the Verinder’s country house when Ezra Jennings performs his experiment on Franklin Blake.
Each narrator is tempted to digress, as evidenced by Betteredge’s periodical rambling: “On Friday, nothing happened – except that one of the dogs showed signs of a breaking-out behind the ears. … Excuse my mentioning this. It has slipped in somehow” (252). However, the Moonstone invades these narrative tangents and the mystery becomes the central issue once more. The change in narration accounts for tone change, but the stories still run together smoothly because of their common interest in discovering the Moonstone’s thief. The Moonstone’s mysterious disappearance reminds each narrator to keep focused on propelling the story onward, and to keep focused on the events surrounding the Moonstone’s disappearance. In this way, Collins is able to efficiently employ the subjective narrative technique in several different characters’ points of view, but blend them cohesively into a whole.
Works Cited
Collins, Wilkie. The Moonstone. Ed. Steve Farmer. Ontario, 1999.
The notion of subjective narration is introduced when Betteredge, on receiving a request from Franklin Blake, explains the purpose of his account to the reader by writing, “In this matter of the Moonstone the plan is, not to present reports, but to produce witnesses” (Collins 254). This immediately reveals that the descriptions to follow are based on the character’s personal experience with the mystery of the Moonstone, and because of personal opinions, biases, and knowledge the character may or may not possess, the account cannot be completely trusted. The reader must decide which details are insignificant subjective opinions, while employing his own detective skills to understand the truly important information offered by each report—the events and facts conducive to finding the truth behind the mystery of the Moonstone.
Therefore, the reader becomes a detective seeking truth along with Collins’ characters. A feeling of paranoia gradually increases throughout the text as a result. Assuming that it is possible that each narrator has misrepresented certain situations with personal opinions or a lack of necessary knowledge, who can the reader trust? Betteredge, though kindly, obviously misinterprets various pieces of information. For example, he wrongly believes Rachel is in love with Godfrey Ablewhite instead of Franklin Blake saying, “Mr. Franklin’s chance of topping Mr. Godfrey in our young lady’s estimation was, in my opinion, a very poor chance indeed” (110). Similarly, Miss Clack idolizes Godfrey, her “precious and admirable friend” (258), when it is later proved that he is in fact the devious thief behind the Moonstone’s disappearance. Finally, the addition of the mind-altering drug opium plays a part in distorting the facts of Franklin Blake’s narrative. Unintentionally, Blake deceives the reader by leaving out an account of his actions under the influence of opium. It is Ezra Jennings who reveals to Blake that he “took the Diamond, in a state of trance, produced by opium” (453).
In addition to creating a sense of mistrust from the reader’s point of view, the individual narratives create the story’s momentum. Collins’ narrators do not repeat previous information because they begin their narratives in turn. For example, at the end of his narrative, Betteredge notes that, “you are likely to be turned over to Miss Clack, after parting with me” (252). Conjointly, the change in narration provides chances for the story to change its scenery. The reader moves with the narrators from the Verinder’s country estate, to London with Miss Clack, and back to the Verinder’s country house when Ezra Jennings performs his experiment on Franklin Blake.
Each narrator is tempted to digress, as evidenced by Betteredge’s periodical rambling: “On Friday, nothing happened – except that one of the dogs showed signs of a breaking-out behind the ears. … Excuse my mentioning this. It has slipped in somehow” (252). However, the Moonstone invades these narrative tangents and the mystery becomes the central issue once more. The change in narration accounts for tone change, but the stories still run together smoothly because of their common interest in discovering the Moonstone’s thief. The Moonstone’s mysterious disappearance reminds each narrator to keep focused on propelling the story onward, and to keep focused on the events surrounding the Moonstone’s disappearance. In this way, Collins is able to efficiently employ the subjective narrative technique in several different characters’ points of view, but blend them cohesively into a whole.
Works Cited
Collins, Wilkie. The Moonstone. Ed. Steve Farmer. Ontario, 1999.
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