Describe And Critically Analyse The Use Of Variable Internal Focus In Madame Bovary.

Variable internal focus is one of many narrative methods used in Madame Bovary which can hardly be said to be separable from the text. All interpretations are influenced by narrative technique and no consideration of its effects could be exhaustive. There are, however, some interesting points at which narrative technique comments on important themes in the text. Madame Bovary deals with understandings of reality and illusion, of seeing and being seen. The question, 'who sees?' is important to both plot and narrative. Emma's story can be understood as one of repeated seduction and disillusion. She seeks transcendence in religion, then in romance and finally in luxury, replacing each broken set of illusions with a new one as their unreality is revealed. Emma's struggle is set in a strongly physical world, one of farming and medicine, which throws her less grounded visions into sharp relief. Here, advantage is given to those with acute perception, such as Rodolphe and Lheureux, who profit, sexually and financially, from their own ability to see what Emma cannot. Charles's is inability to perceive Emma's adultery, or, indeed, Emma herself, is necessary to the progression of the plot and to the tragedy of its ending. As if to personify this play of sight and blindness through the text, a blind beggar haunts the road from Rouen and Emma's death. In addition to these thematic considerations, the question of 'who sees?' is one which the reader is prompted to ask repeatedly throughout the text, as there is no fixity of perspective. The novel's beginning, "We were in the preparation room when the head came in," creates an expectation that the story will be told by a first-person narrator, but it soon becomes apparent that this is not the case. Flaubert shifts between perspectives throughout the novel, as well as utilising an omniscient narrator, and does not signpost the changes. It would be impossible to reconcile the schoolboy narrator who introduces Charles as a classmate, the one narrating the following pages detailing Charles's family history, childhood and mother's silent anger, and the one who remarks after this, "we should all of us now find it impossible to remember a thing about him," into a single, coherent being. The reader has to keep track of these shifts if he or she is to make any judgements about the narrator's knowledge and reliability in any given passage. Shifting between perspectives in this way, Flaubert utilises variable internal focalization. Genette uses the term 'internal focalization' to refer to narratives in which "the narrator says only what a given character knows," corresponding to what other theorists may call 'point of view'. He distinguishes three types of internal focalisation: fixed, in which one character's point of view is consistently presented; multiple, in which many views may represent the same events; and variable, in which we move from one point of view to another, narrating different events. The final form he applies to Madame Bovary, although he makes this observation: The commitment as to focalization is not steady over the whole length of a narrative, and variable internal focalization, a formula already very flexible, does not apply to the whole of Bovary [...] Furthermore, the distinction between different points of view is not always as clear as the consideration of pure types alone would lead one to believe. It is worth noting, therefore, that while variable internal focalization is the dominant technique in Madame Bovary, it is not the only one, and observations by an omniscient, non-focalized narrator, for example, play a part. With this in mind we may consider Genette's analysis of, "Madame Bovary, where the focal character is first Charles, then Emma, then again Charles." Clearly, he oversimplifies, but taking this as a broad outline, let us first ask why internal focalization through Charles and Emma was adopted, and then why, at some points, Flaubert departs from it. Bal argues that on the basis of, "the fact that a character focalizes the first and/or last chapter, we label it the hero(ine) of the book." No reader will mistake Charles for the hero-the novel is titled Madame Bovary-but but it is interesting that, while it is conventional for a novel to open with the heroine's childhood, we are given Charles's and that Emma's childhood is withheld until after her marriage. The early chapters, which are constantly focussed on Charles and mostly focussed through him, have the function, as Lubbock observes, of preparing us for the final ones, which are similarly focussed. It is notable that Charles, who sees for us at the beginning of the book, is blind to Emma's character and her ill-concealed sexual and financial transgressions until the final pages. He reveals himself to possess the characteristics of the heroes of the romantic tales Emma read: he bows under grief and eventually dies of a broken heart. Focalization through him earlier in the book not only builds sympathy, allowing the reader to understand his emotions and, therefore, access the pathos of the end. It also positions him as a parody of the literary hero, making his character into a comment on the usual understanding of what is necessary to the hero and heroine. There are many departures from the 'Charles-Emma-Charles' focalization schema. One of the most important effects of this is that it allows Emma to be described by her husband and each of her lovers in turn. Lubbock, basing his judgement of Madame Bovary on a belief that its aims are primarily pictorial, justifies this use of varied perspectives thus: Emma must be placed in her world and fitted into it securely. Some glimpse of her appearance in the sight of those around her-this, too, we look for, to make the whole account of her compact and complete. Her relation to her husband, for instance, is from her side expressed very clearly in her view of him, which we possess; but there are great advantages in seeing it from his side, too. While Flaubert undoubtedly succeeds in painting an admirable and accurate portrait of provincial life, the text is not limited to this project, and its scope includes explorations of issues pertinent to that picture. Gans argues that Flaubert is, in fact, dissecting a model of the modern Self, with application across burgeoning consumer society, far beyond the specificities of Emma's situation in Yonville. Regardless of how far his observations may apply, certainly the advantages of seeing Emma from the outside go further than simply providing a clearer or more balanced view of her, they allow Flaubert to explore seeing itself. Emma's husband and lovers provide the bulk of outside perspectives on Emma. The interplay of their perspectives and hers build a multiplicity of visions of Emma and her relationships, as their observations are thrown into relief by her expectations of them. Each of Emma's seductions, as Gans notes, is preceded by a catalyst for the affair. The ball at La Vaubyessard is invoked in her affair with Rodolphe and the opera in Rouen marks the beginning of her sexual relationship with Léon. The catalysts are focussed through Emma, while at the start of the affairs the reader glimpses Emma through her lovers' eyes. The contrast between them is worth examining. At the ball at La Vaubyessard Emma's interests lead to an extensive descri ption of luxurious surroundings and exotic foods. The former lover of Marie-Antoinette, the Duc de Lavardière, is portrayed because, "Emma's eyes kept turning of their own accord in his direction." At one point in the evening, when peasants look in at the ball through the window, Emma ceases to be able to see beyond her immediate surroundings. In the rich glow of the present her own past life, til then so clear, vanished entirely, and she began to wonder whether indeed it had been hers at all. Here was she: beyond, outside the radius of the ball, everything lay in a vague, obliterating shadow. Emma's reality is no longer visible to her, replaced by the world of the ball which has already been associated with luxury, aristocracy and romance. The 'light' of her perception will extend no further than her desire. The fact that the cue for this is a look from the peasants outside indicates that this desire encompasses a certain perception of herself. The vision she accepts is the one in which she can be perceived according to her ideal. Extramarital affairs are alluded to again immediately after this passage with an episode involving secret correspondence. Late in the evening Emma dances with the Vicomte: They began slowly, then started to move more swiftly. They turned and twisted, and everything around them turned and twisted too, the lamps, the furniture, the panelled walls, the floor-like objects on a pivoted disk. As they passed close to the doors, the lower edge of Emma's dress blew against her partner's trousers: their legs became intertwined. He lowered his gaze and looked at her. She raised her eyes to his. A languorous dizziness came over her. She stopped. They started again, and, quickening his pace, the Vicomte swung her away to the far end of the gallery, where, quite out of breath, she all but fell and rested her hand for a moment on his breast. Then, still twirling, but more soberly, he led her back to her place. She stumbled against the wall and put her hand over her eyes. The descri ption of the world moving around the dancers gives the reader a strong sense of seeing through Emma's eyes; the Vicomte, an accomplished dancer, is unlikely to share this perception with the breathless Emma. Gans writes, "The dance scene is constructed like a simulation of sexual intercourse." Indeed, the intertwined legs, the reciprocity of the gaze, the quickening pace and Emma's breathlessness support this reading. The ball is, in effect, a "seduction" which takes place in Emma's mind. Again, she responds to being looked at and replies with her own, interpretative, look. After the ball, Emma puts the Vicomte's face to the heroes of romantic novels and imagines his walks through Paris. His cigar case, standing in for him, comes to represent romantic love, as she imagines the case is a present from his mistress, and high society, as it hears chatter beneath pompadour clocks. Charles's inability to handle the Vicomte's cigars emphasises his difference from the idealised lover Emma associates with his world, most notably, that he is limited by physicality. While Emma's imagined "seduction" is based in her vision of herself in another world, her actual seductions originate in her being seen in her own. Variable internal focus allows Flaubert to repeatedly scrutinise his heroine. Here, Rodolphe meditates on her after their first meeting: I bet she's bored!-wants to live in the town and go dancing the polka every night. Poor little woman-gasping for love like a carp on the kitchen table for water! If I paid her a few compliments, she'd be at my feet-I'm dam' sure of that! And a very charming, sweet little morsel she'd be... But how to get rid of her afterwards would be a bit of a problem [...] He conjured up a picture of Emma dressed as he had seen her in the parlour, and he began mentally to undress her. [...] It's only a question of finding an opportunity. I'll call on them once or twice, send them some game and a few chickens. If need be, I'll have myself bled. Focalized through Rodolphe, Emma is positioned as a desired object. Rodolphe's approach is firmly physical. She is stripped of her clothing in his mind, to expose her flesh. Emma becomes a consumable 'morsel', she is like a fish dying before its preparation for a meal. She can be attained by sacrificing meat or blood. Rodolphe's whole way of thinking is shown to be based in the corporeal. These images are strikingly different from the quails in their plumage, iced champagne and exotic fruits of Emma's memories of the ball. When Emma begins to graft her seducer at La Vaubyessard onto Rodolphe, therefore, the reader can see a strong contrast between his vision and her's. Rodolphe's perspicacity also grants him the ability to manipulate Emma because he has perceived her boredom and the vulnerability inherent in her desire for affection. Emma applies the romantic narratives which the Vicomte has come to represent to her to Rodolphe. She asks if he has a gun to protect himself against Charles, should he discover them; she gives him a copy of the Vicomte's cigar case. Emma's romanticism and Rodolphe's baseness would undoubtedly be clear to the reader however this part of the story was focalised, but the chasm between Emma's perceptions at the ball and Rodolphe's as he begins his affair is given more impact by this technique. The seduction, which takes place in the celebrated Agricultural Fair scene, involves Rodolphe uttering romantic clichés during an award ceremony for achievements in farming, including livestock and manures. The juxtaposition reveals their underlying similarity: Rodolphe's romantic narrative is comparable to the government's platitudes about the value of the provinces and his sexual agenda is as sophisticated as farming practices. In both cases, desire is used to manipulate vision. When Rodolphe fails to meet Emma's romantic expectations (which are intensified after Charles's failure to gain status in the 'physical' realm of medicine by operating on a club foot), she falls ill. Mistakes in perception have material consequences. Before her affair with Léon, Emma visits the opera in Rouen. At first she rejects its sentimental representation of love, but soon she succumbs to her image of the leading man: With him she would have travelled through all the kingdoms of Europe, moving from capital to capital, sharing his weariness and his triumphs, gathering in armfuls of bouquets showered upon him. With her own fingers she would have embroidered stage costumes, and every evening, seated at the back of her box, behind a gilded trellis-work, would have listened open-mouthed to the voice of that great soul singing for her alone. Even in the fervour of his playing he would have spared her a look from his place on the stage. A sudden madness seized her. He was looking at her! There could be no doubt about it. She longed to rush into his arms, to take refuge in his strength as in the incarnation of perfect love, to cry aloud to him-'Take me away! Oh, take me away!' Again, Emma is seduced when visiting a place outside her day to day experience. At the opera performers collude with the audience in suspending disbelief in a vision of the world which is explicitly unreal-they deal in illusion. As at the ball, Emma is seduced by one of its representatives. Just as the Vicomte looked down at her, and she up at him, here she imagines that the leading man returns her gaze from above. Here, though, she is not seduced by the immediate, romantic representation, but what she imagines is behind it: status, artistry. Emma does not want to be a participant in the romantic story performed on the stage, one derived from a romantic novel of the sort she imagined the Vicomte in. Rather, she imagines herself as part of the making of the illusion, working on costumes and inspiring the performance. She is seduced by the creator of visions. The affair which she begins with Léon, however, does not fulfil this desire. She was the 'beloved' of all the novels that had ever been written, the heroine of all the plays, the vague 'she' of all the many volumes of poetry. On her shoulders he recognised the golden bloom of the Bathing Odalisque: she had the elongated body of some medieval maiden, and resembled, too, the Pale Woman of Barcelona. Focalized through Léon, her lover, this passage reveals how the process which she applied to Rodolphe is now applied to her, as she is transformed into a literary and cultural ideal. Each is constructing the other, and variable internal focalization allows the reader to see the slippage between the lovers' visions. In her first affair, the contrast between Emma's romanticised vision and Rodolphe's more prosaic one created a power imbalance which Rodolphe exploited to gain sexual access. In her second one, with the knowledge of the artificiality of romance gained from the first, Emma has more power, and so, "he became her mistress far more completely than she was ever his." Her delusions are altered, though, rather than destroyed, and the affair contributes to her financial ruin. Accurate perception, then, can be said to confer privilege in Madame Bovary, and this is certainly the case, too, with Lheureux, whose shrewd observation of Emma and understanding of her accounts yields considerable rewards. However, while it is the case that Emma and Charles, whose visions encompass so many delusions, die, and while those, like Lheureux, who perceive more accurately, are rewarded, no character accumulates moral capital in the text. Variable internal focalization offers a variety of perspectives, but none emerges as an authority. The focalizations neutralise each other, much as Rodolphe's vision of his affair with Emma made her own absurd. No one perspective is able to confer validity, and so no interpretative system is commended to the reader by the text. Each vision confounds another. Variable internal focalization gives the reader access to a number of competing perspectives in Madame Bovary. By focalizing large sections of the text through and on Charles, Flaubert encourages sympathy for him and problematises the concept of the literary hero. Focalization on Emma through her lovers compliments Emma's own perspective and gives the reader a deep understanding of the incompatible visions the lovers hold. While perception and illusion are thoroughly explored, from the multiplicity of points of view no authoritative vision emerges. Flaubert's technique amounts to a questioning of vision itself. Bibliography

Bal,Mieke, Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative, trans. By Christine van Boheeman (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1985) Flaubert, Gustave, Madame Bovary: Life in a Country Town, trans. By Gerard Hopkins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998) Gans,Eric, Madame Bovary: The End of Romance (Boston: Twayne, 1989) Genette, Gérard, Narrative Discourse, trans. by Jane E Lewin (Oxford: Blackwell, 1980) Lubbock, Percy, The Craft of Fiction (London: Jonathon Cape, 1960) Rimmon-Kenan, Shlomith, Narrative Fiction: Contemporary Poetics (London & New York: Methuen, 1983)