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Bryce Aston Dr. Wiley ENGL 350-08 June 16, 2017
Prompt: In the natural arc of any novel, we are often looking for resolution – a solution to a situation or a problem or even a theme. Main characters can be placed in several roles in the context of this search: they can be the catalyst of the storyline or theme (active), the solution of the storyline or theme (active), or a symptom of the storyline or theme (passive). There are other roles, of course, but simplified, those seem to be the main ones. In modernist novels such as Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, and True Grit by Charles Portis, characters can be portrayed as having different levels of agency and thus playing into these different roles within their own story. How and to what extent do the characters in these books play these different roles? Why does it matter that they play these roles in this way? Read the Resolution It’s human nature to seek a form of resolution in anything. In music, we want dissonant chords to resolve into consonance. In language, we want phrases to resolve into full sentences. And in novels, we want the plot line to resolve into a state of harmony. In many cases, that search for a resolution is the whole point of a novel. Without the search, there would be no point. Just like in music where the right or wrong chords contribute to consonance or dissonance, so the characters within a novel play crucial roles in the resolution of a plot. Though every novel is intricate and operates differently, generally characters can be classified to play three different roles within the plot or conflict of the novel: they can be an active participant and be the catalyst for the plot, they can be passive and be a symptom to the plot, or they can be active in the solution of the plot. In the novels True Grit by Charles Portis, And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf, and The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, the fulfillment of catalyst, symptom and solution roles is key to both fitting the novels into their specific genres and conveying a larger message. Furthermore, when taken in a larger societal context, these novels
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may serve in those roles themselves for their audiences. In other words - what we read can help us reach our resolution. Before examining how they’re manifested in these novels, it’s important to understand how these roles function within the context of a novel. The catalyst character is active, aggressive in their agency. This character plots the starting point of the novel by sparking their own arc – coming up with a plan, starting a rebellion, going on a journey. They take matters into their own hands and they, through their actions, introduce the plot of the novel. These characters serve as an inspiration to the audience while also being key to the inception of the novel itself. If catalysts have complete agency, symptom characters are almost the opposite. When a character plays the role of a symptom, they are passive to the extreme. They do not make things happen – things happen to them. Their entire existence is to be moved and oftentimes abused by the whims of the overarching plot. Authors often use these characters to display problems or patterns within the plot, to make a point. These characters may be more relatable in some cases because they are simply living their lives – ordinary people, neither heroes nor villains. Solutions, meanwhile, are the extreme heroes or villains, the characters whose actions tie together loose ends and solve the overarching plot lines they are attached to. They defeat the enemy or solve the mystery. They can inspire or warn the audience, but either way, they end things. These three archetypes may interact with one another and their plot lines in various ways. They may be attached to the overarching plot line of the whole novel or a side plot specific to themselves. Even minor subplots have characters that play these roles for them. These characters are key to the resolution of a novel, and they are key to the role a novel can play in our lives. The characters of novels with the simplest resolutions often fulfill their roles in an accordingly straightforward manner, as is evident in novels such as And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie and True Grit by Charles Portis. Though stemming from different genres, these two novels both consist of similar arcs and solutions: a character seeks to right a perceived injustice and works outside what they believe to be a broken or imperfect system to achieve resolution. The main structural differences – and difference in the fulfillment of roles – stem from the style of narration: Christie’s novel is third-person semi-omniscient, fleeting between the thoughts and perspectives of several different characters, while
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Portis narrates from the first-person limited perspective of one girl. These styles affect role fulfillment because Christie’s plot has nine characters of relatively equal importance that have the opportunity to act as catalyst, symptom or solution, while Portis’ novel focuses on only one. True Grit, then, represents the most cut-and-dried example of a character fulfilling these roles. In Mattie, Portis has created a simple and effective catalyst and solution for his novel. Mattie’s no-nonsense attitude and unencumbered motivation are key to the clean execution of the plot - it is very linear and in many ways satisfying to the reader. Mattie sets off to kill her father’s killer, and she does. It’s a clean arc, framed perfectly by Mattie’s actions. She catalyzes the plot without fanfare or even second thought, simply saying “‘Nobody here knew my father and I am afraid nothing much is going to be done about Chaney except I do it myself’” (60). She is the ultimate catalyst character, taking matters into her own hands efficiently and effectively - and she ends the whole affair in the same way: “The charge exploded and sent a lead ball of justice, too long delayed, into the criminal head of Tom Chaney” (204). Though the novel does not technically end here, the loose ends are tied. Mattie acts as both catalyst and solution to her own plot line, and in doing so, exhibits ultimate agency and a disregard for everything but her own priorities. In this way, her fulfillment of the roles of catalyst and solution are part of what makes True Grit the ultimate Western novel, despite its unusual narrator. Mattie’s self-sufficiency, independence, and determination, all displayed in her execution of her roles, dovetail perfectly into the individualistic and rebellious ideas of the Western genre. Christie’s And Then There Were None may be a mystery rather than a Western, and may feature many points of view rather than one, but the novel she crafts shares two major characteristics with Portis’. Firstly, it has a similarly clean and linear plot with a satisfying ending, and secondly, it also ties into themes of a search for justice. Within this similar framework, however, Christie builds a more complex web of characters. She presents a singular catalyst who also acts as a solution, along with many other characters acting as symptoms of the plot. Justice Wargrave, in pursuing his sadistic version of justice, catalyzes the storyline. He quite literally puts all pieces in place and sets all forces in motion. Through sheer determination and force of will, he catalyzes and executes the whole complex plot that makes the novel so compelling. Furthermore, he is the solution to the novel - in more than one way. On a basic level, he orchestrates all the characters’ deaths, thus completing the prophecy of the poem and reaching the
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prophecy’s resolution. On a higher level, his final confession is a solution to the mystery that the audience is left wondering over after the final death. However, Wargrave isn’t the only character in And Then There Were None. Christie develops the other characters into symptoms of the plot line: they have no agency whatsoever. They are puppets in Wargrave’s plan, and even when they believe they are acting independently, there’s a sense that Wargrave’s influence is always looming over them. These characters are symptoms in that their actions are completely resulting from the actions of Wargrave. This concept of a cast of characters, helpless to the whims of an intricate and sinister plot they are not aware of, is classic for the mystery genre. If we stack Christie and and Portis’ books in a neat little pile of clean, concise, tied up plot lines, Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway stands in stark contrast. It has virtually no plot, it isn’t linear, and because there is no real plot, there can be no resolution to a plot. In novels such as this one where there is no real end point to aim for, no satisfying ending, the audience needs a conflict, concept or theme to be developed in order to gain that satisfaction. In the case of Mrs. Dalloway, the conflict comes in the characters’ inability to reconcile their internal perception of themselves and their external presentation and perception by others. This inability to self-actualize ends up being the arc in which characters play out their roles. To reach the solution of this arc would be for the characters to achieve a point of stasis wherein their self-perception would meet their perception of how others see them. Interestingly, in the case of Clarissa and Peter, the characters catalyze their arcs in a negative way: their inability to communicate with each other leads them to have skewed perceptions of how they are perceived by the other. Clarissa and Peter both have an inability to communicate with one another effectively, instead acting on assumptions of how the other sees them. Because of this, they are both deeply unhappy and are unable to recognize their mutual feelings for each other. In this way, they are both active catalysts, but mainly in the sense that they are actively alienating themselves from the person they wish to be close to. The only character that could be argued to reach some sort of solution in this struggle to reconcile the external and internal is Septimus. Dark as it may be, Septimus’s ultimate suicide is a representation of his agency. He takes control of his fate, and finds a solution for his internal suffering by acting according to his external perception - that of a mad man. His arc toward suicide is catalyzed by his own PTSD and by Dr. Holmes’ refusal to acknowledge the legitimacy of his suffering, but it is Septimus alone who finds
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the arc’s solution. The culmination of Septimus’s arc and the alienation and unresolved arc seen in Clarissa and Peter is key to the overall tone of Mrs. Dalloway. It also plays into the theme of alienation and loss of human connection in a post-war society that is such a key part of the novel. When transitioning to consider the roles of catalyst, symptom and solution in The Handmaid’s Tale, we have yet another change in structure. Where Woolf’s novel was a classic modernist piece with all the alienation and disjointedness often seen in the genre, Atwood’s novel is squarely within the dystopian genre, though not completely traditional in the approach. Atwood’s deviation from a typical dystopian plot line is intertwined with the role that Offred plays in the novel. In many modern dystopian novels, the arc of the novel and the arc of the main character are fairly inextricable because more often than not, the character is the catalyst for a narrative in which the solution is the destruction of the dystopia. However, in The Handmaid’s Tale, Offred is no catalyst and no solution. She falls firmly into the category of symptom throughout: her narrative is not that of actively attempting to fight the society she lives in. It is simply one of survival - she allows things to happen to her, rather than making things happen, because it is the only way to survive comfortably. She conforms to the role she must live in and she is subject to the whims of the dystopia. There are small moments in which she is subordinate, but these are minor and do nothing to catalyze change, so cannot be considered an attempt at control on her part. Offred is a symptom of her dystopian society. Atwood further emphasizes Offred’s passivity by cutting off her storyline with no real solution. The audience never learns of her fate, and instead finds out about the fall of Gilead through a disconnected future. While the arc of the dystopia has a solution, Offred does not. This, combined with Atwood’s description of Offred’s passivity in the time directly before Gilead was formed, plays into the classic role of a dystopian novel. Very often, these novels are seen as a warning or a call to arms for current society. By emphasizing the passivity of her narrator, Atwood sends a warning to the audience regarding the role of a passive population in the rise of dystopian governments. If these arcs, these narratives and characters, catalysts and symptoms and solutions are stacked up all together, we have a mess of different messages. Each author uses the agency or lack thereof of their characters to mold their storyline to a different genre or message. These moves are intentional and powerful within the individual storylines. However, there’s more to it than that. The roles the characters in these novels play are key to the roles these novels can play in our lives as an audience, in inspiring us to
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act or lulling us to sit back. A book can take up one of these roles in our lives, and in turn we can choose to take up one of these rolls in our society. If we look at the books we read, the media we consume, the things upon which we place importance, as working adopted organs within the living, breathing body of our lives, it is impossible to overlook their vitality to our own growth and function. Zoom in, all the way: these characters that we detest or adore or generally tolerate or don’t think about at all, they play their roles, make their decisions and act with agency or instinct or pure passivity. They play out the resolution, not just in initial reading but in every rereading and contemplation of their story that we engage in. And so there – the cellular anatomy of the meaning we find, made up of characters we read about who were catalysts, solutions or symptoms, they build the foundation. We see in them models of what we could be or what we are. The characters that we read become part of us. They become ours in interpretation or relation. Here we have our basic building blocks, continually living out their resolutions without our acknowledgement or awareness, in the recesses of our insides. But a collection of cells does not a person make (although I suppose that depends on who you ask). They must function in a larger system – that of the books and storylines they inhabit. Here – our organs. Because books, in themselves, play out the same roles of their characters within our lives. If we are lucky enough, a book may be our solution – may bring our dissonance to a consonance. We may finish a novel with a sense of devastating relief: finally, we understand. Finally, catharsis through metaphor. But sometimes it doesn’t work out that way. Sometimes the things we devote time to are symptoms of ourselves and our reality. Sometimes you are in pain or you are frustrated and you read a book simply because it is necessary. It may be escapism or masochism or pure obligation, but sometimes we read things because the act of reading them is required by where we are. You read To Kill A Mockingbird because you’re in high school English, and you read The Unbearable Lightness of Being because you’re not sure that anything matters anymore. And of course, some books are the catalyst. These are the books that make you shout on the inside. A well-crafted book can ignite a new storyline within the anatomy of our lives’ meaning. When you read a book and feel changed, feel outraged or inspired or unable to breathe with the potential and the uncertainty of the things it said to you, that book is the catalyst. The book that doesn’t change your life
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itself, but gives you the courage to make the changes yourself – that is the catalyst. And now zoom out – that’s us. Uncertain, clumsy, holding onto these stories in our head because they give us courage or hope or make us feel something. We have choices to make in our society, in our lives - to be the catalyst, to be the symptom, to be the solution. If we read a book like The Handmaid’s Tale and choose to let it wash over us but not move us, then we are letting ourselves be symptoms symptoms of a society that consumes without thought or consideration. But if we read books like True Grit and find that Mattie makes us want to stand bold in the face of what we know is wrong - we can be catalysts. We can change the story we are living, create a new arc that could lead to the biggest, or even the smallest, revolution. And if we read books like Mrs. Dalloway and find that the aching in our chest won’t allow us to say nothing, if we take the step and reconcile with those we miss because of some pretentious book that we read for our English class - well then. We can find a solution. Characters aren’t perfect. Neither are books, and neither are we. But there’s a chain of connection between the things we read about, how we feel about them, and what we choose to do with what they show us. It’s powerful. It’s something.
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Works Cited Agresta, Michael. "How the Western Was Lost (and Why It Matters)." The Atlantic. Atlantic Media Company, 24 July 2013. Web. 17 May 2017. Atwood, Margaret Eleanor. The Handmaid’s Tale. N.p.: Anchor, 1998. Print. Christie, Agatha. And Then There Were None. London, UK: Harpercollins, 2011. Print. Portis, Charles. True Grit. New York, NY: Overlook, 2016. Print. Woolf, Virginia. Mrs. Dalloway. New York, NY: Harcourt, 2005. Print.