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White, Rachel. 2020. All this is for you and contemporary uses of omniscient narration: theories and case studies. Doctoral thesis, Goldsmiths, University of London [Thesis] https://research.gold.ac.uk/id/eprint/28377/ The version presented here may differ from the published, performed or presented work. Please go to the persistent GRO record above for more information. If you believe that any material held in the repository infringes copyright law, please contact the Repository Team at Goldsmiths, University of London via the following email address: [email protected]. The item will be removed from the repository while any claim is being investigated. For more information, please contact the GRO team: [email protected] All this is for you and Contemporary Uses of Omniscient Narration: Theories and Case Studies Submitted by Rachel White Goldsmiths College, University of London Thesis submitted for the PhD in Creative and Life Writing 1 Declaration of Authorship I, Rachel White, declare that this thesis and the work presented in it is entirely my own. I have clearly stated where I have consulted the work of others. Signed: Date: 2 Acknowledgements I would like to offer my sincere thanks to my creative supervisor, Ardashir Vakil, and my critical supervisor, Jane Desmarais, for their unflagging support and encouragement, and their much-appreciated advice in the writing of this thesis. 3 Abstract This thesis consists of two parts. Part One is the creative writing component, a 62,000 word novel, All this is for you, about Hemu Daswani, immigrant turned wealthy entrepreneur, and his daughter-in-law, Joanna, who between them debate the question, once a person has become rich, what else is there to strive for. The second part is a 27,000 word critical commentary titled Contemporary Uses of Omniscient Narration: Theories and Case Studies. This commentary argues for the ongoing relevance of omniscient narration in contemporary realist fiction. I discuss the validity of fiction’s author-God analogy and how it is both challenged and reinforced by theories of point of view, free indirect speech, and focalization. My close readings of works by Alice Munro, Elizabeth Strout, and Richard Yates examine the use of an omniscient narrator to engage readers in the multiple perspectives and complexities of close family relationships. 4 Table of Contents Part I: Creative writing: All this is for you 6 Part II: Contemporary Uses of Omniscient Narration: Theories and Case 198 Studies Introduction Chapter One - Theory: Critical Contexts 206 1.1 The Problem of Literary Omniscience 1.2 The Author-God Analogy 1.3 Free indirect speech 1.4 Point of view 1.5 Focalization A note on Mikhail Bakhtin’s ‘dialogism’ Chapter Two – Case Studies 247 2.1 Richard Yates 2.2 Alice Munro 2.3 Elizabeth Strout 2.4 All this is for You Conclusion 285 Bibliography 292 5 PART I: CREATIVE WRITING All this is for you A novel 6 Hemu Hemu Daswani never thought he would outlive his wife. Most mornings, before he’d finished The Times, Laxmi Daswani was already out on her walk. She would put on her plain black MBTs, fasten a pedometer to the waistband of her trousers and plug a single headphone bud into her ear. She liked to listen to aartis while she walked, the spare bud tucked underneath the wide strap of her bra so that she could listen out for careless drivers and stay safe from robbers. The route she took went out along the Watford Road footpath and back through the Harrow-on-the-Hill Pitch and Putt, totalling three and a half miles, and on a good day, she did it in an hour and fifteen minutes. Hemu liked to see the glow about her when she got home, which took years off. Although he never told her that. − Come with me, she always said to him. − A blast of fresh air will remove all your tension. And each time, he said he was too busy. She taped a magazine page to the fridge door: Fifteen Benefits of Walking and drew thick lines under heart disease and diabetes, which were first and second on the list and stress, which came lower down. In the margin she wrote: blood pressure arthritis balance. One night, when they were sitting up in bed, both reading from their iPads, she asked him if he knew what endorphins were. The bedroom light was turned off, and except for the blue-white glow of their screens, they were in darkness. − Of course I bloody know, he said. The article he was reading said that houses prices in Hounslow would rise by nineteen and a half per cent over the next five years. It was totally off the mark. Hemu had been buying property for more than thirty years and he counted on being three steps ahead of all of 7 these madhatter journalists. Anybody could’ve told this idiot that the problem with Hounslow was the constant forth and back over another runway at Heathrow. − Then tell me, she said. − What’s the purpose of an endorphin? − I can’t tell you the exact medical explanation. I know the general sense of the word. − Endorphins are endogenous opioid inhibitory neuropeptides, she read out. − They are neurotransmitters that pass signals from one neuron to the next. The signals instruct the body to reduce stress and enhance pleasure. It says here that chillies, exercise and sex all release endorphins into the body. − What you’re supposed to do with the chillies? He said, and he laughed until a fit of coughing came on. − This is what I’m telling you. She rested her iPad on the duvet and looked at him over the top of her glasses. − One of these days, you’re going to drop dead. * Hemu and Laxmi were married at the Bombay Radio Club on Arthur Bunder Road. The date was 22 September 1973, a Saturday. Hemu rode there on a white horse, rented for the day by his uncle. His younger brother holding the reins on one side and the young ghodawala holding them on the other. That morning, while he was taking his tea, Laxmi’s cousin Meena came to collect him for the first of the ceremonies. This would be the foot-washing, which would take place at the apartment on Peddar Road where the bride’s family lived. Earlier, he’d tried on the wedding sherwani his mother had chosen for him. The colour was cream with heavy gold embroidery covering the front panels. It fitted him well, except that across the shoulders it was tight and the collar had rubbed against his neck. Now, he was sitting on 8 the balcony, letting the sun warm his chest through the new white undershirt he was wearing. The sun was low and hazy, and his uncle kept saying that they were lucky because if there was to be rain, it would only come after the main ceremony. Meena came onto the balcony and leant against the wall. She was dressed for the wedding in a mango-coloured sari with a blouse that showed her curves very nicely. She passed him a small red box. − What’s this? − Open it. Inside was a tie pin. It was a gold bar, with a large blue stone set close to the edge - the kind of jewellery he’d have picked for himself when he first got to London, thinking it made him look rich. − Do you wear a tie to the office? she said. − Of course. She asked him for a cigarette and he offered her the packet. − These are what you smoke in London? They were Benson & Hedges Special Filters. In a gold box with the Royal Warrant stamped on the front. − They’re what I picked up at the airport. He handed her his lighter, a plastic one with the phone number of his accountant stamped on it. − Your husband allows you to smoke? he said. − I allow myself. Meena’s marriage was a love marriage. Her husband, Rajeev, was a chemical engineer. Straight after Hemu’s wedding, Meena and Rajeev were moving to America because Rajeev was starting his doctorate at a college there. 9 − It’s California you’re going to, no? She nodded. − I don’t know it, he said. He stubbed out his cigarette and lit another − Are you nervous to go? − Yes and no. She put her arm across her body, just underneath her bust, to make a rest for her other arm, the one that was holding the cigarette. − I’m anxious and at the same time I want the day to come quickly. He nodded. − I don’t like all the waiting around. The balcony door opened and his uncle came out. His wedding outfit was a dark blue Nehru suit. − Why you’re still sitting here smoking? he said to Hemu. − Hurry up and put on your clothes. He went back inside and Hemu took another long drag from his cigarette. Meena had turned away from him to lean on the balcony railing. The shape of her large round arse showed through her skirt and he watched it until he was ready to grind out his cigarette. Then, he stood up, put the red box into his trouser pocket and went to stand beside her. − The tie pin was your choice? he said. − You’ll wear it? He leaned forwards and kissed her. It was a rough kiss. His mouth was dry and so was hers. He reached up to her choli and squeezed her breast, but the rows of beads stitched onto the silk stopped him from getting the full feel of it.

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