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Notes on Narrative

Some notes on narrative that, in best Blue Peter tradition, I made earlier. 16 years earlier:

Narratives are made up of units of information. In Roland Barthes’ ‘Introduction to the Structural Analysis of Narratives’ he states:

“…narrative is never made up of anything other than functional units … This is not a matter of art (on the part of the narrator), but of structure…”

Barthes goes on to deconstruct these functional units, outlining two distinct types of narrative component.

The first type are referred to as ‘functions’, which are essentially the narrative elements of the structure, the units that constitute ’story’. Functions are “…units of content…”, they are statements that describe actions, (eg: Oswald shot the President) or provide information which is key to the narrative (Oswald had spent some time in Cuba). Barthes’ ‘Functions’ are similar to Hallorans’ ‘Message Vehicles’, which take meanings in terms of codes and sub-codes. To use an example from Barthes; the sentence “He saw a man of fifty” can render several meanings according to the context of the narrative and the position of the reader. It is firstly a description of age. In the context of other message vehicles that would define the text as a ’spy thriller’, the man is unidentified and signifies a ‘possible threat’. In the context of the eighteen year old reader he is a significantly older man, and so on. Barthes also points out that functions are correlative to one another, contribute to the meaning of one another. The function ‘he replaced the receiver’ only gains meaning in relation to its correlate ‘he picked up the phone’.

The second units given a term are ‘Indices’, which locate the ’scene’ of the text. Such units provide information about atmosphere, character, time and place. While these units do not directly contribute to the narrative, they serve to place the text into the ‘real’ world. For example, the indice “The night was stormy” gives us information about the temporal context of the narrative (it is night-time) and the atmosphere (stormy – foreshadows ‘doom’).

If narrative can be broken down into ‘units’ it follows, that these units can be ordered into a structure; a structure of messages that relate to each other. In books and films this structure is linear, is the Classic Realist structure of the text.

 

Scrivener

I’ve briefly reviewed the Mac-only writing tool Scrivener a couple of times for Macworld. This post is based on those two pieces:

Most of the stuff I review goes straight in the trash afterwards. Some programs stay on my machine for a little while. A very few apps become part of my toolkit; the software I use every day. Scrivener is one of those rare applications.

If you’re a student, write reports for work or fancy yourself as a creative author – Scrivener is perfection. It’s designed to help you plan, organise and execute large writing projects, from degree dissertations to blockbuster novels and everything in between. The basic features it gives you to do this are a simple but powerful word processor, outlining tools and an internal file system that enables you to file research snippets alongside your writing project. All of your work on a project is stored in a single file. I first reviewed the package at version 1.0. The program had major upgrades at 1.10 and 1.50, introducing lots of feature tweaks and fixes. At version 1.5.3 it’s mature and stable, Snow Leopard ready and boasts an ever-expanding fan base.

The program divides into discreet, yet connected parts. Writing’s processed in a traditional editor, with live word counts and layout tools. You can minimise distraction with a keyboard shortcut that puts the editor in full-screen mode – a feature I didn’t know I wanted until I tried it and loved it. But, unlike traditional writing programs, you don’t work on one file at once. The Scrivener format saves multiple files in one package. You arrange them using folders in a hierarchical filing system. The format’s very open – and files can be simple notes or full documents containing images, layout and links.

There are several ways to view this hierarchy. For our money the most powerful is the corkboard. And, yes, it’s a virtual representation of a literal corkboard, displaying the fragments of your novel or report as a series of index cards pinned to its pseudo-spongy surface. Not all attempts to translate real world metaphors work well in software interfaces – but this absolutely nails the process of dealing with complex documents.

Crucially, the corkboard isn’t just a reflection of your work in progress, but can be used to rearrange the workflow. For example, if a chapter is broken down into a sequence of events, you can switch things around by moving the index cards. Then there’s Outline mode, which shows the structure of the work in a detailed list. Again, a powerful way to get a quick overview of a large work.

My one gripe with the program, which I’m reluctant to admit, is that it’s Mac only. You can import files from Word or just about any other word processor though – so if you have to work on another machine for a while, it’s easy get your edits back into Scrivener when you’re home.

Scrivener can be bought for $39.95, which was about £25 in real money when I wrote this, from www.literatureandlatte.com.

Bean (and other none comestible writing tools)

 

I recently reviewed Bean 2.4 – a brilliant, free and very lightweight Mac word processor – for Macworld. Here’s my redux version of that review:

My quest for the ultimate writing tool continues with Bean, a stripped down and superfast word processor. Most of the applications Apple bundles with OS X are great – but TextEdit isn’t one of them. As a document viewer, it’s handy to have in the absence of Adobe Reader or MS Word. It supports RTF, HTML and even .webarchive files. As a word processor, I’d rather write with a sharp stone on the pavement.

I’m sure I can’t be alone in finding TextEdit clumsy to look at and cumbersome to use. Worst of all, it screws up perfectly good documents. Apple’s idea of ASCII text format seems to differ from everyone else’s.

If you can afford it, there’s MS Word. If you can’t, that’s where tools like OpenOffice.org come in – giving you the commercial standard features TextEdit can’t. Features like word count and print view. But, OpenOffice.org is pretty cumbersome, installing a suite of tools and requiring Java to run.

Bean is the ideal compromise. With a disk footprint of just 8 MB compared to OpenOffice.org’s 400 MB, it’s small – starting up in less than a second on our test machine.

It lacks a full word processor’s more advanced features, but Bean handles all the same files as TextEdit in an interface that’s very easy to use – with nice big icons and a clean and uncluttered work area.

Sure, it’s small. Compared to tools like Word it feels distinctly chopped down. But, it feels like Bean was designed by someone who writes for a living. All the features that have been left in are features you’ll actually use. With live word count, auto-save, spell check and page layout mode you won’t feel deprived. Though, used to using Scrivener recently, we did miss having full screen mode.

I’ve found myself using Google Docs a lot lately. Bean gives you the same simplicity, power and lack of clutter at the same price; nothing. Still – Google Docs has one thing Bean doesn’t. It’s cross platform. And you can access it from anywhere. So, make that two things Bean doesn’t have… I switched to Google Docs so I could access my writing on any machine I was logged in to – but it’s far from perfect. It’s ugly to look at, and it doesn’t quite know whether it’s using folders or tags to file your work.

These are petty issues – but there’s one major problem with Google Docs that can’t be overlooked: it screws up RTF export. Big time. That’s a big consideration when you’re writing professionally.

So – whenever I’m on a Mac – I mostly use Bean instead. Sometimes, I use it in conjunction with Google Docs, bypassing the export command and pasting my writing into Bean for final formatting. Either way, it’s free and takes up as much space as a couple of audio tracks. Win and, indeed, win.

Download Bean from www.bean-osx.com

Notes on Focalisation

 

Decided to do my first semester essay on variable, internal focalisation in Madame Bovary. Want to explore the structuralist roots of perspective as Genette’s Narrative Discourse, the set text, refers to Barthes Introduction to the Structural Analysis of Narrative a lot… And I love a bit of Barthes.

Anyway, for my benefit, here’s a beginner’s guide to focalisation or “point of view”.

Focalisation is the perspective from which we experience the narrative being told. I’m going to find a more concise way of expressing that later… Genette outlines three types of focalisation in narrative:

1. Non-focalised

This is often characterised as “omniscient” and is most frequently a third person narrative. Here, the narrator knows more than the characters about events that have happened and events that are to come, floats among and around them like a God, observing and noting. It’s the classic mode of the story teller, of Dickens and Balzac.

2. Internal Focalisation

Here the story is told from the exclusive viewpoint of the character or characters. It can be told in the first or third person, but presents the narrative through the experience of the focal character. We know what they know, see what they see.

It’s a little more complicated than that, though, as there are three variants:

a) Fixed Internal Focalisation
Here, we experience the text from the viewpoint of one character and one character alone. Classic examples would include:

Catcher in the Rye
A Confederacy of Dunces

b) Variable

In this subtype, we move from character to character within the narrative, experiencing their perspective. This might resemble, on the surface, non-focalised narrative perspective, but in true variable internal focalisation, the narrator knows and channels only the experience of the character she currently inhabits. Madame Bovary could be categorised as a narrative with variable, internal focalisation – but it’s a tricky one… The narrator’s voice begins in the first person, as an observer, for example.

c) Multiple

Multiple internal focalisation is similar to variable. However, we experience different narrative perspectives within a scene. This is the classic device of telling the same story from different viewpoints. There are many examples in film – Four Rooms, Code Unknown, Vantage Point.

3. External Focalisation

This is a rare variant of perspective in literary fiction – in which the action is described by an external observer. This observer doesn’t have access to the thoughts or feelings of the protagonists – and is an entirely external, authorial narrator or a minor character on the periphery. Examples abound in the short stories of Hemingway – but it’s a device most frequently found in genre fictions; crime, horror and the pulpier versions of SF.

First Thoughts on Mrs Dalloway

Ploughing through the first pages of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway, I’m reminded of several other artists, not all of them writers.

The first is Jack Kerouac. The stream of consciousness narrative, poetic and vibrant real-time description and epic sentences. Full stops are few. My first attempt at reading was fruitless. Only going back and reading as though aloud and in character seemed to work. It was a child-like approach, but once I did that, I was there – in Woolf’s lucidly illustrated world.

The others are film-makers. Wim Wenders and Robert Altman (and his greatest imitator Paul Thomas Anderson). It flits in and out of different threads, from one viewpoint to another, aggregating into a whole. It puts me in mind of the first half of Wings of Desire as we move from the thoughts of one character to another, the focus becoming finer as the story progresses and coalesces. Very modern, difficult and rewarding.