The modern novel most often
leaves you in little doubt as to who the protagonist is by plunging you into
his or her perspective in the very first line and/or naming him/her in the opening
sentence. The cry of agents and publishers everywhere is that the character,
and the stakes for the character, must be firmly established in the opening
paragraphs—that the story should start in the ‘right’ place.
But, whisper it, there is another
way to provoke interest in your character—delay. This approach isn’t suited to
close third narration but works well for an omniscient viewpoint and is
exemplified in the opening pages of William Makepeace Thackeray’s Vanity Fair (1847-8).
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| Becky Sharp leaving Chiswick illustration |
Thackeray’s panoramic masterpiece
opens in Miss Pinkerton’s academy for young ladies:
While the present century was in its
teens, and on one sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron
gate of Miss Pinkerton's academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a large
family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven by a fat coachman
in a three-cornered hat and wig, at the rate of four miles an hour. A black
servant, who reposed on the box beside the fat coachman, uncurled his bandy
legs as soon as the equipage drew up opposite Miss Pinkerton's shining brass
plate, and as he pulled the bell at least a score of young heads were seen
peering out of the narrow windows of the stately old brick house. Nay, the
acute observer might have recognized the little red nose of good-natured Miss
Jemima Pinkerton herself, rising over some geranium pots in the window of that
lady's own drawing-room.
In these few lines we are
introduced to an array of characters, giving us a good indication of the large
cast to come. There’s a fat coachman, the black servant, a score of young
ladies and two named characters, the Miss Pinkertons. But none of these people
are our main characters. In fact, Thackeray tells us, a few paragraphs later:
Honest Jemima had all the bills, and the
washing, and the mending, and the puddings, and the plate and crockery, and the
servants to superintend. But why speak about her? It is probable that we shall
not hear of her again from this moment to the end of time, and that when the
great filigree iron gates are once closed on her, she and her awful sister will
never issue therefrom into this little world of history.
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| William Makepeace Thackeray |
A natural assumption might be
that the soon-to-be-occupant of the large family coach will be our heroine,
and, sure enough, she is soon introduced—Amelia Sedley. But again our
expectations are confounded. After a letter detailing Miss Sedley’s numerous
accomplishments (music, dancing, orthography, embroidery, needlework, religion,
morality, deportment, although she is sadly deficient in geography), Miss
Pinkerton adds a brusque postscript:
P.S.—Miss Sharp accompanies Miss Sedley.
It is particularly requested that Miss Sharp's stay in Russell Square may not
exceed ten days. The family of distinction with whom she is engaged, desire to
avail themselves of her services as soon as possible.
The contrast between Miss
Pinkerton’s glowing description of Miss Sedley and lack of detail about Miss
Sharp interests the reader. We find ourselves wondering ‘what’s wrong with
her?’, increasing the emotional stakes for us even without instant
identification with the primary character.
This interest grows a few lines
later, when we learn Miss Sharp’s full name and see Miss Pinkerton’s reluctance
to give her a dictionary.
Being commanded by her elder sister to get
"the Dictionary" from the cupboard, Miss Jemima had extracted two
copies of the book from the receptacle in question. When Miss Pinkerton had
finished the inscription in the first, Jemima, with rather a dubious and timid
air, handed her the second.
"For whom is this, Miss Jemima?"
said Miss Pinkerton, with awful coldness.
"For Becky Sharp," answered
Jemima, trembling very much, and blushing over her withered face and neck, as
she turned her back on her sister. "For Becky Sharp: she's going
too."
"MISS JEMIMA!" exclaimed Miss
Pinkerton, in the largest capitals. "Are you in your senses? Replace the
Dixonary in the closet, and never venture to take such a liberty in
future."
"Well, sister, it's only
two-and-ninepence, and poor Becky will be miserable if she don't get one."
Becky Sharp then is a character
who exacts strong responses from other characters, and one who other characters
can misjudge. For Becky doesn’t care in the least if she receives a dictionary
or not, as we learn when she hurls it out of the carriage window. A reader
certainly doesn’t know her, or understand her motivations at this juncture, but
is nevertheless invested in her and her story.
The next time you’re playing with
an opening, or introducing an important character, consider: How can delay and
enigma help me build a character? Can I avoid giving everything away instantly,
while still remaining true to my narration? Instead of having them dive at once
into the water, see if you can lead your readers out to sea.
What would you like to see the
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