31.1.2009
(Continued from part
1, part 2,
part 3.)
7) Reflection on narrative technique. I have argued that the first
chapter of The Trial exposes a number of unfavorable character traits
in Josef K.; but one more aspect needs discussion: the apparent
inconsistencies in the text. I shall look at the narrative techniques that
bring these inconsistencies about, and at the function they fulfill.
Although the novel is written in third-person mode, it is closely focused
on K. as the center of attention. We are told only about developments and
events in which K. himself is present, and the narrative content is
restricted to what he perceives. Furthermore, it is not only the objective
facts of the plot that are restricted - the same applies to information
about thoughts, feelings, memories and so on. We are given insight (to a
certain degree) into K.'s thought processes, but into no other person's in
the novel. In particular, we must do without other person's impressions and
estimations of K.'s personality. (Unless they are of course verbalized or
otherwise expressed by them, e.g. in body language described in the
novel - but in this case we must again be aware that what we learn may be
distorted by K.'s perception, which heavily influences the narrative
content.)
Now, it is of course not to be expected that K. himself has the same
critical attitude towards his own character that we have. In fact, quite in
accord with his other character qualities, he displays a considerable
arrogance and a strong tendency towards self-righteousness. Thus we have
registered a tension, in the first chapter, between what we learn from
observing what goes on and what K.'s own assessment of the situation
suggests about it: Although K.'s actions betray character defects, this
comes out in a distorted manner, because at the same time K.'s subjective
view is actively devising excuses, rationalizations and so on. We are
therefore challenged to see through K.'s attempts to deceive himself (and us)
when judging the character that is presented to us.
Note that given these observations, there is nothing either particularly
inconsistent nor especially obscure about the way the novel introduces the
main character. True, we don't have the luxury of an objective narrative
that just shows how K. is reacting, without a subjective overlay that comes
from his own perceptions and attitudes. So we have to deal with both points
of view simultaneously. But then, so are we most of the time in daily life.
It makes many of our judgments less clear-cut and more provisional, but in
the light of what is possible, they are still good judgments on which it
makes sense to proceed. We are thus not in a position with respect to
interpreting the novel that is in principle worse than what we are faced
with in real life.
The situation is complicated, however, by the fact that insight into
K.'s mind is used selectively by the narrator, and the purpose of the
selection is not (as is more typical for narrators in literature) to give
us a comprehensive character portrait. It's as if the narrator shares K.'s
disinterest in other people - he's only interested sporadically, and only
when it fits his own agenda. That agenda, as I have argued, is to expose
K.'s character. More precisely, the narrator provides insight into K.'s
thoughts, feelings and intentions whenever it helps us seeing that they
contradict his actions and self-descriptions. But it's not the contradictions
themselves in which he is interested. Behind them, there is always an
aspect of K.s personality.
Personality is not just a matter of regularities in behavior, though. It
has also long-term aspects - character traits may change, normally resulting
from reflection and a conscious effort on the part of the character's bearer.
In theory, every episode shown to us by the narrator would be a chance for
K. to do so as well, precisely because K. himself has available to himself
exactly the same information that we receive from the narrator, including
those inconsistencies.
When we are confronted with a feedback that shows us an inconsistency
between what we think and how we act, different options are open to us:
we may correct our actions (and possibly our dispositions to act) or
we might change our views of ourselves. Or we might, as K. usually does,
invent some excuses or rationalizations that let our actions look plausible
after all. The narrator of The Trial lets us see this aspect of
K.'s personality. It's another, additional character trait, a perverted
(as we might say) form of reflection. It's dysfunctional as reflection
because reflection normally should help to improve one's character, not
to excuse it and re-assure oneself that one is doing just fine.
To summarize, then: the narrator provides us insight into K.'s mind
to carve out character traits. Some of these can be simply seen from a
mismatch between K.'s thoughts and actions, but there is also his inability
to honestly reflect on himself, which needs more elaborate presentation
of his thought processes. In all cases, however, we're not given a full
picture of K.'s inner life. All we get are the elements necessary for a
critical exposition of his bad qualities.
Can we infer from this that K. doesn't have any good qualities, that
he is a uniformly bad person? Given the overwhelming evidence of weakness,
arrogance and lack of concern for others in what we learn about K., this
seems to be a natural conclusion. Still, can we rely on the narrator here?
Can we be sure that this portrait is not a deliberately one-sided one? The
evidence we are given might have been carefully selected to generate just
that impression.
The function of an interpretation is of course not to pass moral judgment
on a character. Rather, we should note that such a judgment is strongly
suggested by the way the text is narrated, and we can identify the techniques
which make that suggestion so strong. We can notice that K. is
presented as a weak and faulty character, and we can find out exactly
how this is achieved by the author's use of narrative techniques. It's not
our business to condemn the character of K. (and indeed, what would be the
point of such condemning?) We're concerned with how the text works, and why
it achieves the effects it does achieve. When doing this, we have to draw in
resources like our knowledge about how character shows itself in people,
and what indicates good or bad qualities in a personality. We also have to
develop an ability to see through the deceptive (and self-deceptive)
maneuvers of K., and the deliberative, but purposive holding back of
information by the narrator (he only shows us part of K.'s mental life, and
that's in accord with his agenda). Having mastered this, we're rewarded with
a surprisingly consistent and elegant, albeit disturbingly stern and
purely condemning reading. That it is possible to find this behind a text that
looks so strange and confusing at first sight is a sure indicator for the
great quality of Kafka's work. (More so, I think, than the opportunity it
perennially gives for metaphysical speculation.)
