Narrative and Narration

Order DescriptionQUESTION 1 Identify the effects of Free Indirect Discourse (FID) in" rel="nofollow">in the followin" rel="nofollow">ing passage and comment on its effect. Where relevant, distin" rel="nofollow">inguish between Free Indirect Speech and Free Indirect Thought. (125 words) Mr. Duffy raised his eyes from the paper and gazed out of his win" rel="nofollow">indow on the cheerless evenin" rel="nofollow">ing landscape. The river lay quiet beside the empty distillery and from time to time a light appeared in" rel="nofollow">in some house on the Lucan road. What an end! The whole narrative of her death revolted him and it revolted him to thin" rel="nofollow">ink that he had ever spoken to her of what he held sacred. The threadbare phrases, the in" rel="nofollow">inane expressions of sympathy, the cautious words of a reporter won over to conceal the details of a commonplace vulgar death attacked his stomach. Not merely had she degraded herself; she had degraded him. He saw the squalid tract of her vice, miserable and malodorous. His soul’s companion! He thought of the hobblin" rel="nofollow">ing wretches whom he had seen carryin" rel="nofollow">ing cans and bottles to be filled by the barman. Just God, what an end! Evidently she had been unfit to live, without any strength of purpose, an easy prey to habits, one of the wrecks on which civilisation has been reared. But that she could have sunk so low! Was it possible he had deceived himself so utterly about her? He remembered her outburst of that night and in" rel="nofollow">interpreted it in" rel="nofollow">in a harsher sense than he had ever done. He had no difficulty now in" rel="nofollow">in approvin" rel="nofollow">ing of the course he had taken. As the light failed and his memory began to wander he thought her hand touched his. The shock which had first attacked his stomach was now attackin" rel="nofollow">ing his nerves. He put on his overcoat and hat quickly and went out. The cold air met him on the threshold; it crept in" rel="nofollow">into the sleeves of his coat. When he came to the public-house at Chapelizod Bridge he went in" rel="nofollow">in and ordered a hot punch. The proprietor served him obsequiously but did not venture to talk. There were five or six workin" rel="nofollow">ingmen in" rel="nofollow">in the shop discussin" rel="nofollow">ing the value of a gentleman’s estate in" rel="nofollow">in County Kildare They drank at in" rel="nofollow">intervals from their huge pin" rel="nofollow">int tumblers and smoked, spittin" rel="nofollow">ing often on the floor and sometimes draggin" rel="nofollow">ing the sawdust over their spits with their heavy boots. Mr. Duffy sat on his stool and gazed at them, without seein" rel="nofollow">ing or hearin" rel="nofollow">ing them. After a while they went out and he called for another punch. He sat a long time over it. The shop was very quiet. The proprietor sprawled on the counter readin" rel="nofollow">ing the Herald and yawnin" rel="nofollow">ing. Now and again" rel="nofollow">in a tram was heard swishin" rel="nofollow">ing along the lonely road outside. As he sat there, livin" rel="nofollow">ing over his life with her and evokin" rel="nofollow">ing alternately the two images in" rel="nofollow">in which he now conceived her, he realised that she was dead, that she had ceased to exist, that she had become a memory. He began to feel ill at ease. He asked himself what else could he have done. He could not have carried on a comedy of deception with her; he could not have lived with her openly. He had done what seemed to him best. How was he to blame? Now that she was gone he understood how lonely her life must have been, sittin" rel="nofollow">ing night after night alone in" rel="nofollow">in that room. His life would be lonely too until he, too, died, ceased to exist, became a memory—if anyone remembered him. It was after nin" rel="nofollow">ine o’clock when he left the shop. The night was cold and gloomy. He entered the Park by the first gate and walked along under the gaunt trees. He walked through the bleak alleys where they had walked four years before. She seemed to be near him in" rel="nofollow">in the darkness. At moments he seemed to feel her voice touch his ear, her hand touch his. He stood still to listen. Why had he withheld life from her? Why had he sentenced her to death? He felt his moral nature fallin" rel="nofollow">ing to pieces. When he gain" rel="nofollow">ined the crest of the Magazin" rel="nofollow">ine Hill he halted and looked along the river towards Dublin" rel="nofollow">in, the lights of which burned redly and hospitably in" rel="nofollow">in the cold night. He looked down the slope and, at the base, in" rel="nofollow">in the shadow of the wall of the Park, he saw some human figures lyin" rel="nofollow">ing. Those venal and furtive loves filled him with despair. He gnawed the rectitude of his life; he felt that he had been outcast from life’s feast. One human bein" rel="nofollow">ing had seemed to love him and he had denied her life and happin" rel="nofollow">iness: he had sentenced her to ignomin" rel="nofollow">iny, a death of shame. He knew that the prostrate creatures down by the wall were watchin" rel="nofollow">ing him and wished him gone. No one wanted him; he was outcast from life’s feast. He turned his eyes to the grey gleamin" rel="nofollow">ing river, win" rel="nofollow">indin" rel="nofollow">ing along towards Dublin" rel="nofollow">in. Beyond the river he saw a goods train" rel="nofollow">in win" rel="nofollow">indin" rel="nofollow">ing out of Kin" rel="nofollow">ingsbridge Station, like a worm with a fiery head win" rel="nofollow">indin" rel="nofollow">ing through the darkness, obstin" rel="nofollow">inately and laboriously. It passed slowly out of sight; but still he heard in" rel="nofollow">in his ears the laborious drone of the engin" rel="nofollow">ine reiteratin" rel="nofollow">ing the syllables of her name. He turned back the way he had come, the rhythm of the engin" rel="nofollow">ine poundin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in his ears. He began to doubt the reality of what memory told him. He halted under a tree and allowed the rhythm to die away. He could not feel her near him in" rel="nofollow">in the darkness nor her voice touch his ear. He waited for some min" rel="nofollow">inutes listenin" rel="nofollow">ing. He could hear nothin" rel="nofollow">ing: the night was perfectly silent. He listened again" rel="nofollow">in: perfectly silent. He felt that he was alone. James Joyce, "A Pain" rel="nofollow">inful Case," in" rel="nofollow">in Dublin" rel="nofollow">iners QUESTION 2 Identify the narrative voice (1st person, 3rd person, etc) of the followin" rel="nofollow">ing passage of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Notes From Underground and discuss with regard to the effects of focalisation and reliability. (125 words) I am a sick man.... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothin" rel="nofollow">ing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain" rel="nofollow">in what ails me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicin" rel="nofollow">ine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicin" rel="nofollow">ine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I can't explain" rel="nofollow">in who it is precisely that I am mortifyin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consultin" rel="nofollow">ing them; I know better than anyone that by all this I am only in" rel="nofollow">injurin" rel="nofollow">ing myself and no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is from spite. My liver is bad, well — let it get worse! I have been goin" rel="nofollow">ing on like that for a long time — twenty years. Now I am forty. I used to be in" rel="nofollow">in the government service, but am no longer. I was a spiteful official. I was rude and took pleasure in" rel="nofollow">in bein" rel="nofollow">ing so. I did not take bribes, you see, so I was bound to fin" rel="nofollow">ind a recompense in" rel="nofollow">in that, at least. (A poor jest, but I will not scratch it out. I wrote it thin" rel="nofollow">inkin" rel="nofollow">ing it would sound very witty; but now that I have seen myself that I only wanted to show off in" rel="nofollow">in a despicable way, I will not scratch it out on purpose!) When petitioners used to come for in" rel="nofollow">information to the table at which I sat, I used to grin" rel="nofollow">ind my teeth at them, and felt in" rel="nofollow">intense enjoyment when I succeeded in" rel="nofollow">in makin" rel="nofollow">ing anybody unhappy. I almost did succeed. For the most part they were all timid people — of course, they were petitioners. But of the uppish ones there was one officer in" rel="nofollow">in particular I could not endure. He simply would not be humble, and clanked his sword in" rel="nofollow">in a disgustin" rel="nofollow">ing way. I carried on a feud with him for eighteen months over that sword. At last I got the better of him. He left off clankin" rel="nofollow">ing it. That happened in" rel="nofollow">in my youth, though. But do you know, gentlemen, what was the chief poin" rel="nofollow">int about my spite? Why, the whole poin" rel="nofollow">int, the real stin" rel="nofollow">ing of it lay in" rel="nofollow">in the fact that contin" rel="nofollow">inually, even in" rel="nofollow">in the moment of the acutest spleen, I was in" rel="nofollow">inwardly conscious with shame that I was not only not a spiteful but not even an embittered man, that I was simply scarin" rel="nofollow">ing sparrows at random and amusin" rel="nofollow">ing myself by it. I might foam at the mouth, but brin" rel="nofollow">ing me a doll to play with, give me a cup of tea with sugar in" rel="nofollow">in it, and maybe I should be appeased. I might even be genuin" rel="nofollow">inely touched, though probably I should grin" rel="nofollow">ind my teeth at myself afterwards and lie awake at night with shame for months after. That was my way. I was lyin" rel="nofollow">ing when I said just now that I was a spiteful official. I was lyin" rel="nofollow">ing from spite. I was simply amusin" rel="nofollow">ing myself with the petitioners and with the officer, and in" rel="nofollow">in reality I never could become spiteful. I was conscious every moment in" rel="nofollow">in myself of many, very many elements absolutely opposite to that. I felt them positively swarmin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in me, these opposite elements. I knew that they had been swarmin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in me all my life and cravin" rel="nofollow">ing some outlet from me, but I would not let them, would not let them, purposely would not let them come out. They tormented me till I was ashamed: they drove me to convulsions and--sickened me, at last, how they sickened me! Now, are not you fancyin" rel="nofollow">ing, gentlemen, that I am expressin" rel="nofollow">ing remorse for somethin" rel="nofollow">ing now, that I am askin" rel="nofollow">ing your forgiveness for somethin" rel="nofollow">ing? I am sure you are fancyin" rel="nofollow">ing that… However, I assure you I do not care if you are… It was not only that I could not become spiteful, I did not know how to become anythin" rel="nofollow">ing; neither spiteful nor kin" rel="nofollow">ind, neither a rascal nor an honest man, neither a hero nor an in" rel="nofollow">insect. Now, I am livin" rel="nofollow">ing out my life in" rel="nofollow">in my corner, tauntin" rel="nofollow">ing myself with the spiteful and useless consolation that an in" rel="nofollow">intelligent man cannot become anythin" rel="nofollow">ing seriously, and it is only the fool who becomes anythin" rel="nofollow">ing. Yes, a man in" rel="nofollow">in the nin" rel="nofollow">ineteenth century must and morally ought to be pre-emin" rel="nofollow">inently a characterless creature; a man of character, an active man is pre-emin" rel="nofollow">inently a limited creature. That is my conviction of forty years. I am forty years old now, and you know forty years is a whole lifetime; you know it is extreme old age. To live longer than forty years is bad manners, is vulgar, immoral. Who does live beyond forty? Answer that, sin" rel="nofollow">incerely and honestly I will tell you who do: fools and worthless fellows. I tell all old men that to their face, all these venerable old men, all these silver-haired and reverend seniors! I tell the whole world that to its face! I have a right to say so, for I shall go on livin" rel="nofollow">ing to sixty myself. To seventy! To eighty!... Stay, let me take breath… You imagin" rel="nofollow">ine no doubt, gentlemen, that I want to amuse you. You are mistaken in" rel="nofollow">in that, too. I am by no means such a mirthful person as you imagin" rel="nofollow">ine, or as you may imagin" rel="nofollow">ine; however, irritated by all this babble (and I feel that you are irritated) you thin" rel="nofollow">ink fit to ask me who I am--then my answer is, I am a collegiate assessor. I was in" rel="nofollow">in the service that I might have somethin" rel="nofollow">ing to eat (and solely for that reason), and when last year a distant relation left me six thousand roubles in" rel="nofollow">in his will I immediately retired from the service and settled down in" rel="nofollow">in my corner. I used to live in" rel="nofollow">in this corner before, but now I have settled down in" rel="nofollow">in it. My room is a wretched, horrid one in" rel="nofollow">in the outskirts of the town. My servant is an old country-woman, ill-natured from stupidity, and, moreover, there is always a nasty smell about her. I am told that the Petersburg climate is bad for me, and that with my small means it is very expensive to live in" rel="nofollow">in Petersburg. I know all that better than all these sage and experienced counsellors and monitors…. But I am remain" rel="nofollow">inin" rel="nofollow">ing in" rel="nofollow">in Petersburg; I am not goin" rel="nofollow">ing away from Petersburg! I am not goin" rel="nofollow">ing away because… ech! Why, it is absolutely no matter whether I am goin" rel="nofollow">ing away or not goin" rel="nofollow">ing away.