Following on from the recent frenzy of blog-ranting on the subject of narrative styles, I thought I’d post a few examples of some novels which I think demonstrate clever use of the omniscient narrator. Note that I’m focusing specifically on books about the legendary/historical characters that my earlier blog posts centred on - I think we’ve covered that plenty enough already, and besides which I think there’s an interesting discussion to be had about the use of narrative mode more generally. These then, are simply three books which spring to mind as good examples of narrative modes other than the most common third-person limited narrator. All three also employ other noteworthy techniques as we shall see…

You can use the comments thread below to leave your own recommendations, and read on to see mine…

The Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe
C.S. Lewis // 1950 // Various Editions Available

I haven’t read this in about, oh, 20 years, but it was brought to my attention in discussion with my friend, Andy Hall, on the subject of my earlier post. As Andy pointed out, having recently read the book to his young daughter, C.S. Lewis uses an interesting variation on the third-person omniscient narrator, which I shall call the Storyteller Mode. The Storyteller is an omniscient narrator who not only describes the story, but also communicates it directly to the reader, as though there in the room with them, speaking it aloud as an old-fashioned storyteller might. The Storyteller refers to the story itself (and sometimes even the book) as though viewing it externally, as can be seen from the following excerpt:

Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy. This story is about something that happened to them when they were sent away from London during the war because of the air-raids. They were sent to the house of an old Professor who lived in the heart of the country, ten miles from the nearest railway station and two miles from the nearest post office. He had no wife and he lived in a very large house with a housekeeper called Mrs Macready and three servants. (Their names were Ivy, Margaret and Betty, but they do not come into the story much.)

The Storyteller Mode raises the question of what the narrator really represents - is it the author’s own voice, or simply a role to be assumed by the reader? It also ‘breaks the fourth wall’ in that is suggests the narrator as a character in our own world, rather than some abstracted, disembodied figure within the world of the story. He remains omniscient, but his omniscience is that of a knowing reader, who has heard the story before. The style can be overly quaint and avuncular, though that hasn’t prevented it proving popular with generations of children. The Storyteller Mode’s usefulness is perhaps limited, but it does raise one important question - that of the relationship between the narrator and the reader (as opposed to that between the narrator and the story, or the reader and the story) - which is worthy of consideration when writing any story, in any narrative style.

The Lion, the Witch & the Wardrobe on Amazon

Elric of Melniboné
Michael Moorcock // 1972 // Gollancz

Chronologically the earliest of Elric’s adventures, though not the first to be written, the eponymous volume introduces the albino Emperor and the island Kingdom of Melniboné. Separating the narrative are what are essentially numerous prologues, and the tale is told in truly omniscient fashion - neither of which would generally be considered good form today. Elric of Melniboné is, however, to my mind an example of how the omniscient narrator can be used incredibly well, without becoming a crutch for the lazy, without becoming a too greatly convenient means of storytelling and without leaving the reader lacking a connection to the characters. Of particular note is the first chapter which, unusually is written in the present tense:

It is the colour of a bleached skull, his flesh; and the long hair which flows from below his shoulders is milk-white. From the tapering, beautiful head stare two slanting eyes, crimson and moody, and from the loose sleeves of his yellow gown emerge two slender hands, also the colour of bone, resting on each arm of a seat which has been carved from a single massive ruby.

Later in the chapter, we’re made privy to the nature of Elric’s Kingdom:

These are the people of Melniboné, the Dragon Isle, which ruled the world for ten thousand years and has ceased to rule it for less than five hundred years. And they are cruel and clever and to them ‘morality’ means little more than a proper respect for the traditions of a hundred centuries.

…and Elric’s own tenuous place within it:

So, alone, the emperor broods. He mourns that his father, Sadric the Eighty-Sixth, did not sire more children, for then a more suitable monarch might have been available to take his place on the ruby throne.

For anyone who read my previous post, this is pathos, if not characterisation or empathy-building in the rather dull, straightforward sense of most modern novels. This presentation of the character - with pathos - is, for a character like Elric, a far superior choice. In fact, the writing style is incredibly well-chosen throughout, perfectly matched to its subject, and clever literary devices, like the use of present tense, only enhance that. To my mind it’s a perfect example of why narrative mode (and, in this case, tense) are so important, and ought be given just as much consideration as the story itself, and the choice of them not merely surrendered to habit or assumption.

Elric of Melnibone on Amazon

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Susanna Clarke // 2004 // Bloomsbury

A very modern novel in a very classic style. Jonathan Strange is narrated omnisciently in a way considered terribly unfashionable today, and yet proved hugely popular with readers and critics alike upon its release - all of which would seem to me to be heartening evidence that trends in publishing are not based upon what the public wants or enjoys, but merely upon what the publishers feel comfortable offering them. When new novels offering something other than the drably conventional form of storytelling arrive, they can and do succeed, which ought to be a lesson to readers, writers and publishers alike.

Of particular interest in Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is the use of footnotes, another interesting variation on the omniscient narrator. Here we’re are left with the implication of a narrator who serves not only a storytelling purpose, but who has also compiled the book and its many references. This raises similar questions to those posed by the use of the storyteller mode, and is again a subtle distortion of the omniscient narrator’s usual role. All very clever, and a good read too (now if only I could get to the end…).

Here’s the obligatory excerpt:

Some years ago there was in the city of York a society of magicians. They met upon the third Wednesday of every month and read each other long, dull papers upon the history of English magic.

They were gentleman-magicians, which is to say they had never harmed anyone by magic - nor ever done anyone the slightest good. In fact, to own the truth, not one of these magicians had ever cast the smallest spell, nor by magic caused one leaf to tremble upon a tree, made one mote of dust to alter its course or changed a single hair upon anyone’s head. But, with this one minor reservation, they enjoyed a reputation as some of the wisest and most magical gentlemen in Yorkshire.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell on Amazon