The Phantom Narrator: Introduction

This character analysis series is not, unfortunately, about the comic book character The Phantom.  Instead it is about the poor habit that many authors have fallen into: writing passive narrators. These narrators do only what their title requires: they narrate. They look on as the other characters in the book leap into action. They describe as tumult and change swirl around them, but don’t seem all that affected by it. 

Is this true to life?  In a way, yes. There have been many times when I have watched from afar as things occurred, or listened to a conversation without contributing much to it. If I were in the midst of a battle—well, to be honest I’d run helter-skelter out of there! But I certainly wouldn’t be very good in a classic action scene. 

The problem with passive narrators—I call them “phantoms”—is not that they are inactive, but that they don’t have much (if any) impact on the plot or other characters. After awhile you start to wonder how they even are still caught up in the action, when they make hardly any effort to keep up with the flow of the plot. The story would usually work just as well written from the third-person perspective. 

As is probably evident already, I’m not a fan of this method of writing, and I find that I dislike many of the books narrated this way. Even if I like the overall plot, I invariably loathe the narrator.   

By way of introduction to this series, let’s use a well-known book as an example. The Great Gatsby is a book that is lauded as a Great American Novel. (In many ways I agree it’s superbly written.)  It is narrated by the character Nick Carraway. (In this instance, I’ll even take back what I said about the book being better written from third-person, because I don’t think it would have worked here.) Nick Carraway finds himself “going with the flow” of parties, wealthy socialites, and the enigmatic Jay Gatsby. He sees all the events (and to be honest there isn’t much in the way of plot until the end of this book) from beginning to end. 

If you haven’t read the book, you probably haven’t finished high school yet because it’s still pretty generic High School Required Reading. But in case you still haven’t read it, I won’t ruin the surprise ending where it turns out that Jay Gatsby is Nick Carraway’s father who wants  him to join the Dark Side of West Egg. 

Oops I think that is another overly-known spoiler. Sorry for the confusion.

My point is Nick Carraway leaves the story disillusioned with the American Dream, frustrated with the corruption of wealth and the idle superficiality of society. Is this a good (if kinda downer) theme for a Great American Novel? Yes. But then I also must remind you that Nick has done nothing to try to change the depressing outcome of the novel.  He knows EVERYTHING that happens. He even has the outsider perspective to see how things are going to go downhill. He’s supposedly the COUSIN of one of the main characters, supposedly romantically involved with another girl, supposedly a friend* to Gatsby, supposedly a good “middle-class” upstanding moral guy. 

And he does NILTCH. 

He sits there and listens to conversations without interfering/interceding/intervening. There’s even a point (which is spoilerish) where he knows information that he SHOULD give to the police, but he stays out of it, with tragic consequences. If he leaves the novel with a dour outlook on life, it’s his own fault if you ask me.

So, how’d you like my little rant? Fancy some more? Cool because you have no choice.  

*Or SON…?  Duh duh DUH!  Sorry, just wishful thinking.