Vestdijkkroniek. Jaargang 1978

[p. 53]

Jane Fenoulhet | ‘A novel within a novel within a novel...’ (2)

The method described in ‘A novel within a novel within a novel...’ is something of an experimental one, never employed by S before. Once Frits has heard S's defence of it, his response is rapturous:

‘De compositie zat hem (Frits) al even hoog als de inhoud, hij sprak van een geheel nieuw en geniaal procédé van romanverwekking, door romans in het wilde weg met elkaar te paren, figuren te scheppen door het in elkaar schuiven van tien andere figuren, en daar was het eind van weg, want als je figuren steeds in een andere verhouding mengde, dan kreeg je telkens weer iets nieuws. Het was de roman van de toekomst, hij wou er lezingen over houden’.^13.

Frits's enthousiasm leaves S cold. True, he goes to extremes, but one would expect S to be a little excited at the idea of inventing a new genre of novel. However, this was certainly not his intention when he set out to fuse two novels together: as far as S is concerned, it is more a case of necessity being the mother of invention. Since he was combining two unfinished books, S found himself with too many characters, and, for the sake of economy, hit on the idea of fusing two or even three of the existing personae into one new character. Frits expresses the obvious objection to this method:

‘“Gaat dat niet wat op gesynthetiseerde mensen lijken, zoiets als die robots van tegenwoordig? Je zou dan toch in het determinisme verzeild raken”.’^14.

There are two dangers inherent in this method of characterisation - the most obvious one is the risk that the resulting characters will have an alienating effect on the reader because they are not true to life. Given that one is aiming at a realistic portrayal of human life, this criticism is valid, but it is not so subtle as the suggestion that the other danger facing S is that he could find himself acting contrary to his own strong principles. If the reader is aware of

13. AH, p. 97.

14. AH, p. 63.

[p. 54]

the synthesis which has taken place, he must also be aware of the degree of manipulation of the characters by the author, which would surely inhibit his attitude toward the characters, making him more aware of their past, than of their future possibilities. Frits was only posing a hypothetical question. He was only pointing out dangers which there is one sure way of averting. S's answer may seem simplistic, but it is the only correct one: the success of this type of characterisation is dependent on skill alone. In practice the act is not so negative, because besides merely avoiding dangers, something positive can emerge from the union of two characters.

As they tend to bring out the best in each other, only certain characteristics have become dominant, whilst others disappear, leaving one new character with an individual personality.

‘“Door zich met een ander te verbinden, laden ze niet een deterministische last op zich, maar ze vinden hun innerlijke vrijheid, hun ware bestemming, soms hun geluk”.’^15.

S certainly identifies strongly with his characters, so much so, that he speaks to Frits about his conductor as if the latter were a living person, existing outside the novel. This is rather difficult to reconcile with the totally uninvolved way he created him in the first instance. The chapter ‘Een roman in een roman in een roman..’ is a key one, since it gives valuable insight into this act of creation, because S is addressing himself to the reader directly, who is an unseen and unknown quantity, whose immediate response does not affect S in any way. He is not playing to any audience and hence need not be conscious of the effect he is creating - in fact he seems to be writing more for himself, which does not mean to say, unfortunately, that he is being completely honest, for one of S's main characteristics is that he is frequently not honest with himself, although this is not consciously done. However, there is no pressure on him to give an account of his work, as in the interview with Frits, which would suggest that he was motivated in this chapter by an urge to unburden himself on the subject of his novel-writing, especially as this was connected with Victor, and seemed to remind S how much he was missing his friend.

15. AH, p. 63-4.

[p. 55]

I have mentioned S's tendency to identify strongly with characters he is in the process of creating. This has proved problematic in the past when it resulted in the break-up with Nettie, because he became confused between the real-life person and the woman he was creating. Once again these identification difficulties have extended beyond his work, permeating every aspect of reality to the extent that he can lose his own identity and assume Victor Slingeland's.

‘Wat ik niet vergat was de vereenzelviging met Victor, iets dat mij, voor zover ik wist, nooit eerder was overkomen. Het werd misschien verklaard door onze ongewone vertrouwelijkheid en het abrupte eind daarvan, waardoor ik, trage geest, als het ware genoodzaakt was Victor in mijzelf te continueren’.^16.

The genesis of S's central character symbolises the identification between S and Victor, since he was created from a conductor figure inspired by Victor and a novelist one based on S himself. Perhaps this aspect of S's method of characterisation is not diametrically opposed to his apparently objective mental attitude displayed elsewhere in the chapter, and may even have sprung from it, as a reaction. Although S rationalises and says that he chose this method of combining two important characters to make one for reasons of economy, one should not underestimate the part played by a subconscious urge to illustrate - make public, even - the closeness he feels both with Victor, the person, and with the character based on Victor. He feels so close to him that in his mind he is not sure where his own personality stops and Victor's begins, resulting in a loss of identity.

This would seem to be quite a common experience amongst those novelists showing a great degree of self-awareness - one which troubles Gide's novelist character, Édouard, in Les faux-monnayeurs, who finds that he too has a strong tendency to identify with his own creations, so much so, that he often lives through them instead of facing up to reality himself.

‘... je ne vis que par autrui; par procuration, pourrais-je dire, par épousaille, et ne me sens jamais vivre plus intensément que

16. OB, p. 99.

[p. 56]

quand je m'échappe à moi-même pour devenir n'importe qui’.^17.

This leads to a desire to step outside himself and watch himself at work, presumably to convince himself of his existence, though it often serves to confuse him more.

‘Je m'échappe sans cesse et ne comprends pas bien, lorsque je me regarde agir, que celui que je vois agir soit le même que celui qui regarde, et qui s'étonne, et doute qu'il puisse être acteur et contemplateur à la fois’.^18.

Édouard is intrigued by the idea of mirror reflections of himself, which must have some bearing on his decision to make his main character a novelist, who, like himself, is writing a novel entitled ‘Les faux-monnayeurs’. Édouard includes in his novel within a novel an image of himself whose value to him personally is a therapeutic one, because he is not merely imagining himself at work - he is projecting the reflection on to the pages of his book so that he, and others, can study it, and perhaps come to grips with the notion that he, Édouard, is a living individual personality.

One would expect S's conflicting attitudes to lead to inconsistent characters. On the one hand they would have a tendency to take on a life of their own, like Gide's, and on the other, to become numbers in some kind of scheme. Yet S somehow manages to combine the two. He comments that his task of fusing two heroes is complicated by the characters' reluctance to surrender their individuality. His remark illustrates perfectly how he copes with the duality of his approach. He is unaware of it, so that at the same time as discussing characters as if they were pieces of some jig-saw puzzle, he regards them as living individuals with minds and wills of their own.

‘Mijn schrijver en mijn dirigent wilden eerst niets van elkaar weten, zij weigerden pertinent tot een levend wezen te versmelten, en dit begreep ik ook wel van hen... Maar ik dwong hen...’^19.

17. Les Faux-monnayeurs, p. 73.

18. Idem.

19. OB p. 101.

[p. 57]

In other words, S combines the two attitudes naturally within himself. As his two main characters are based on himself and Victor, he is close enough to them to identify with them at the same time as juggling with them for the sake of economy in the new novel.

S has a clearly definable relationship with his characters. Once he has created them, they do take on a life of their own, like Gide's, but whereas the latter's personae then take over, their own natures determining their actions, S always remains in control. It is as if his figures are indebted to him for creating them. He commands and they eventually knuckle under, however unwillingly. Gide's characters are free to choose how they will act, and the author leaves them to it, since he believes there is only one possible course open to them because they are governed by their dispositions. As Gide says of Edouard:

‘Comment l'en êmpecher? Châque être agit selon sa loi..’

S decides his characters' actions for them, but admits that his choice is purely arbitrary, and that another, completely different course of action may well have been open to them.

In Open boek in the chapter entitled ‘In de muziekkamer’, Vestdijk also touches on the idea that a mirror is necessary for any artist to be able to put a distance between himself and his work. He specifically talks about the musician's mirror, the recording of his performance. Vestdijk realises that the novelist's mirror can only be created by himself, in his own work, by including a novel which is being written within his own novel. He and Gide both employ this device, and Vestdijk suggests that such a mirror is a necessity for any artist wishing to assess his own work. Gide, in fact goes one stage further: not content with a simple reflection, he constructs an arrangement of mirrors, as it were, enabling him to present a reflection of a reflection. There are, all in all, three novels entitled ‘Les faux-monnayeurs’. In the passages quoted above, Édouard is not simply a mouthpiece for Gide's own experiences as a novelist. One cannot fail to notice the gently mocking tone which Gide adopts

[p. 58]

towards him, both in Part 2, Chapter VII, where he (Gide) surveys all his characters, and also through the other characters themselves.

Sophroniska, for example, makes one aware of Édouard's rather inexperienced, naïve attitude towards people, and Laura points out inconsistencies in his approach to novel writing. This, combined with certain remarks by the narrator, forces one to regard Édouard with a certain amount of scepticism.

In an abstract way, Gide is actually reviewing the stages through which he passed during his own artistic development. By holding up his theoretical ideas on the novel for the reader to judge, he is acknowledging a need to step back and survey himself as a novelist. Vestdijk is motivated by a similar self-conscious desire to portray a novelist at work, but the distance which he puts between himself and S is not so great as that between Gide and Édouard. For a start, any ironical treatment of S is made impossible by the fact that S himself acts as the narrator. On the other hand, Vestdijk subtly distances himself, using the other characters' reactions and comments, which have the effect of making the reader begin to assess S's character from their point of view, and although this is an extremely indirect method of drawing critical attention to a character, it does help one achieve a greater objectivity when analysing S.

Despite the ironic treatment, Édouard is a much more accurate reflection of Gide than S is of Vestdijk: Édouard and Gide (and Vestdijk too) are motivated largely by a self-consciousness in respect of their art, which, although possessed by S, does not figure so prominently in determining the subject matter of his work. S's urge to write springs from a need to describe the people he comes into contact with in everyday life. Those with whom he has close relationships are most important, as he is unable to cope with this particular kind of contact with others. Whilst his awareness of his own ‘kunstenaarschap’ does not play such a large role, he nevertheless writes because of a need to commit various experiences to paper, and thus come to terms with them more easily, like Édouard. One such experience is his friendship with Victor Slingeland. His identification with Victor at a personal level is contained in his work in the fusion

[p. 59]

of the novelist and conductor characters, and also as one of the main themes, which is the ‘identificatie tussen vrienden’. It is not surprising, that when deciding to fuse the two main characters, S made the resulting one into a conductor: his interest in himself and his work had been superseded by the involvement with this friend. It is interesting that at this point, the prospect of combining the pair seemed rather daunting to S, since as individuals the characters had so little in common. S soon discovered that the more work he put in, the easier his task became, until it absorbed him completely, together with his identity, to the extent that the latter became temporarily obscured. This undoubtedly helped S to create a character who was convincing in a personal capacity - but what about his professional one? There is not much evidence to suggest that the resulting character is exceptionally gifted musically, and even less evidence as regards his particular talent for conducting. S underestimates the importance of this, although he is aware of it and has a clever answer ready for anyone who draws attention to it. ‘Trouwens, geen enkele dirigent kan dirigeren. Hij moet het eerst nog leren’.

This whole question raised by S in the inner novel, is begging to be asked about the actual novel. What has earlier been mooted on the subject of S's motivation for drawing attention to such a vital aspect of his work which might well attract criticism, could apply equally to Vestdijk. This is generally the case, and surely one of the main points of including a novel within a novel. Bearing in mind that the trilogy is entitled ‘Symfonie van Victor Slingeland’ and this symphonic subject is supposed to be a conductor by profession, the question of whether one can picture him at work, or at least believe in his conductorship, is fundamental to his acceptability as a character. If Vestdijk chooses to make such an important character a conductor, then he should make sure that Slingeland is convincing in the role. In fact, Vestdijk did not have a great deal of choice in the matter, since it is necessary for S's friend to be an interpreting artist, to enable Vestdijk to propound one of the predominant themes of the trilogy: the different roles of the creative and interpretive artists, and their intrinsic values. But since Vestijk has decided what Slingeland's profession is to be, he must be answerable for any criticism. He is only too aware of

[p. 60]

this fact, which is why he draws our attention to it, using S and the inner novel. Yet in doing so, he could on the one hand be inviting criticism rather than forestalling it. On the other hand, it could be a clever device on Vestdijk's part. Not only does it save the reader the trouble of putting a nagging suspicion into words, but it also offers a few counter-arguments which might provide the reader with an easy way out, satisfying any critical inclinations. Whilst these are both effects which including an autocritique might well achieve, another reason for doing so is simply to enable Vestdijk to distance himself from his work and look at it objectively in the role of critic, which was certainly not new to him. Fitting in with the picture of the writer which is beginning to emerge, this is not simply an academic exercise for him, but a real desire to assess himself as a novelist. The trouble with the trilogy is that because of its first person narration, Vestdijk can never talk directly to the reader about his work. It must always be done indirectly through S, who acts as a mirror for Vestdijk, through which he can view the various aspects of his work which interest him, for instance, the characterisation of Slingeland.

In Les faux-monnayeurs, Gide addresses himself directly to the reader when he sets aside a whole chapter at the end of Part 2 in order to step back and assess the characters as they have turned out so far.

‘Ainsi l'auteur imprévoyant s'arrête un instant, reprend souffle, et se demande avec inquiétude où va le mener son récit’.

This is not a purely critical device. I am not even sure how truthful Gide is being with the reader: indeed - he offers some critical judgement of each character, but one is left with the feeling that this is a deliberate manoeuvre on the part of the author, to illustrate how he puts his ideas on the theory of the novel into practice. The whole chapter bears witness (true or false) to the fact that Gide has no preconceived ideas as to how the novel will develop. He lets his characters take over, which is why he is so often found to be expressing dislike for a particular character, or disapproval at the way he has turned out.

[p. 61]

‘Édouard m'a plus d'une fois irrité (lorsqu'il parle de Douviers, par exemple), idigné même; j'espère ne l'avoir pas trop laissé voir; mais je puis bien le dire à présent; Sa façon de se comporter avec Laura, si généreuse parfois, m'a paru parfois révoltante’.

Vestdijk enjoys manoeuvring with and manipulating his characters so that they have the maximum effect on the reader. Take the two main figures in the trilogy - S and Victor Slingeland (V.S.). Already their names alone point to some connection between them and the author (S.V.). The possibility of a symbolic interpretation has already been discussed, but the names do not fit into any kind of scheme which can be further analysed. One cannot discount the impression that Vestdijk is taking this opportunity to play with the reader, and that he might have relished the prospect of the time devoted to puzzling out correspondences between reality and fiction which might suggest themselves. This, of course, presupposes a certain amount of careful deliberation in order to achieve such a measured effect. Similarly, the village where S stays, simply designated D..., recalls the village of Doorn where Vestdijk did much of his writing. The idea that Vestdijk might be teasing his audience does have a slightly alienating effect, which serves chiefly to sharpen one's awareness of the actual novel one is engaged in reading. The inner novel is even more important in this respect. It may not actively alienate, but attention is drawn to, and focused on, the actual act of writing - one is required to consider the methods which a writer employs when drawing a character.

One of the effects of alienating the reader is to put a distance between him and the work in question, but it is also possible to achieve a distancing effect without alienating at the same time. The diary of Stan Vastenou does this by changing the narrator from S to herself, and therefore altering the viewpoint; also, by creating a definite break in the story and mood of Part 2 of Open boek, which enables the reader to attain a greater degree of objectivity, and encourages him to look critically at the ‘Symfonie’. The events which are related by Tante Stan are largely those dealt with in Part 2 of Het glinsterend pantser. One is obliged to question the degree to which S's

[p. 62]

memory of events is affected by their emotional effect on him, both at the time they occurred, and at the time of relating them. This adds depth to the narrative structure of the trilogy since one is allowed to witness events both with the sense-of-proportion perspective of an adult and the larger-than-life perspective of a child. What before had seemed dramatic now is only to be expected with the extra knowledge which has been acquired, because much of the drama had been derived from a misunderstanding or a misinterpretation of a situation.

To a certain extent, one must, in the light of this new perspective, review one's impressions of the two central characters - something which is required several times in the course of the trilogy, and not just in Part 2 of Open boek. S has a tendency to review his own ideas concerning Victor and his skin disease, as he does in Open boek, Part 1, Chapter I and Part 2, Chapter I, which has a very disconcerting effect on the reader. In the first instance, which follows on from the tense climax of Het glinsterend pantser, S pricks the bubble, as it were, and one is left wondering why one should have been carried along in the general mood of suspense and excitement of the first book. Why should a writer deliberately destroy the powerful effect he has succeeded in creating?

‘Waar had ik mij druk over gemaakt? Ik had niet eens gesnapt waar het om ging’.

S realises that he has read too much into this disease of Victor's. The reason for its effect on him does not have such deep psychological significance as S first imagined. Now that the reader has been successfully disillusioned, he must begin to realise that what S writes must be taken with a pinch of salt: that S has a rendency to get carried away. Bearing this in mind, one cannot help but read S's memoirs with a greater awareness of the fact that whatever one is reading at any given time is entirely dependent on the (fictitious) author's mood or intention at that time. One should realise that one is free to look at it from any other angle, from any other character's point of view.

[p. 63]

Later on, in Part 2, Ch. I, after S has built up interest in Victor's relationships with women, and the bearing that the psoriasis has on them, just when one has become sufficiently involved in the psychology of it to want to work out some solution to Victor's problem, S rejects its importance.

‘Zelfs mijn medelijden leek mij nu overdreven. Ging hij werkelijk zo diep onder zijn kwaal gebukt als ik aanvankelijk had gemeend, dan had hij toch zeker niet tot dat theater geleend van dat sinistere tochtje van een badkamer naar een slaapkamer... Daarbij was het (de kwaal) dan nog zijn paspoort, zijn alibi, zijn vrijgeleide in het land der vrouwen’.

Instead of the disease being the cause of some psychological disturbance leading to an apparent inability to have a ‘normal’ relationship with a woman, S now believes that it has the opposite effect. He goes on to systematically destroy every clue which he had put in the way of the psychological detective.

‘De mogelijkheid bestond dat Victor's huidziekte niets te maken had met het schelden, niets met zijn vader, niets met zijn kunstenaarschap, niets met zijn celibaat, niets met zijn hele innerlijk, noch als oorzaak noch als gevolg, en dat er tussen alles alleen maar een nuttig arrangement tot stand was gekomen’.

Having said this, however, and what is more, when he was feeling definitely anti-Victor - due, no doubt, to jealousy over the affair with Eva - one begins almost immediately to suspect that it is largely a result of mood, despite S's statement that he has little trouble in ‘mijn belevingen met Victor in de juiste proporties te zien’. S is incapable of objective judgements of character, since what he now believes to be true or right (‘juist’), although it contains a grain of truth, is most likely to be an exaggeration which he is quite capable of refuting in the next chapter. Subconsiously, he probably realises this, which is why he preceeds his revision of ideas with ‘De mogelijkheid bestond..’ and concludes the chapter with ‘Wat niet wegnam, dat ook

[p. 64]

het tegendeel waar kon zijn, - dat hij onnoemelijk veel had geleden.’.

In the Symfonie van Victor Slingeland, Vestdijk deliberately sets out to disorientate the reader, thus requiring him to be more critical in his judgements and more creative in his reading. He is not dependent on the reading public, as he does not expect or need them to accept his ideas - his aim is to stretch the writer-reader relationship to its limit.