As writers, we often desire to close the gap between our characters and readers. We want readers to become so engrossed in the characters’ lives that they forget they are reading. This gap between the reader and the text can widen when the author uses an indirect characterization method. Janet Burroway, in Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft, defines indirect characterization as describing the character “… in summary, abstract, or judgemental terms by either the author or another speaker (75).” This is often found in moments of authorial exposition. Although it breaks the old rule of ‘show, don’t tell,’ it can be useful in the correct situation. Indirect characterization allows the writer to shape the character for the reader quickly and without ambiguity. Burroway warns, however, that this method can result in distancing the reader. Can a writer use indirect characterization while still creating a visceral experience for the reader? Can authors borrow the voices of their characters during narration by using the Uncle Charles Principle to reap the benefits of indirect characterization without pushing their audience out of reach? What are other strategies to create intimacy?
A character’s voice, or the way they speak and express themselves, is one of the most direct ways of characterization. When we hear a voice with clipped sentences and infused with forwarding momentum, we easily picture the career-driven New Yorker, but when the language is soft, slow, and flowing with metaphors, we can picture a relaxed southern grandmother sipping sweet tea. The style of the character’s voice gives us insight into who the character is at their core. When we hear their voice, we can connect with and understand them. It is the voice of the character that provides intimacy with them.
The Uncle Charles Principle brings in the character’s voice without giving them space to speak. In Joyce’s Voices, Hugh Kenner defines the Uncle Charles Principle as “the narrative idiom need not be the narrators (18).” In other words, the narrator can borrow the language of a character. The principle is named after a character in James Joyce’s The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. In the novel, the character named Uncle Charles “repaired” to the outhouse. Kenner argues that this is not language that would be used by the impartial narrator but is instead how Uncle Charles would describe his action. The narrator is “contaminated” by the voice of the character, and through this, we can get a better understanding of Uncle Charles and become accustomed to his voice (Kenner 17). Since voice is such a powerful and effective way of creating character, the ability of the narrator to borrow voices allows for the economic inclusion of the voices of characters that might otherwise be missed.
I will examine three vastly different books to explore how The Uncle Charles Principle and its adaptations can be used in fiction to economically close the gap between narrator and reader. The first piece I will discuss is The Dead by James Joyce. The Uncle Charles Principle allows Joyce to incorporate the voices of a large cast of characters in a story built on understanding the nuances of their social positions and beliefs. I will then look at Fred Chappell’s I Am One of You Forever and how he adapts the principle to expand the limitations of the first-person. Chappell uses this adapted Uncle Charles Principle to incorporate the voices of the narrator as a child and adult while borrowing the voices of characters close to the narrator to bring the reader into the community. Finally, I will compare this style with the intense intimacy of Julia Alvarez’s In the Time of the Butterflies. Unlike Joyce and Chappell, Alvarez does not use The Uncle Charles Principle but instead includes shifting points of view to show a deeper intimacy with a smaller cast of characters.
The Dead by James Joyce
The Uncle Charles Principle can be found throughout Joyce’s writings. An analysis of The Dead, the final story in the short story collection Dubliners, is especially useful because of the clarity of the use of The Uncle Charles Principle. The short story begins at a Christmas party as the guests arrive and with the much-anticipated arrival of Gabriel Conroy. The story uses limited third-person narration to focus on Gabriel and his interactions throughout the night. The Dead has a large array of characters, and the story is contingent on understanding the characters’ differing beliefs and social status. The reader must be able to pick up on the differences in political views, social miscues, and other subtle character relations. For the story to work, Joyce needs the reader to feel comfortable with and understand each character. He uses his Uncle Charles Principle to quickly bring in many character voices without spending much time or space creating connections between characters and readers. The Uncle Charles Principle is used in the story to close the gap between the reader, narrator, and character.
James Joyce begins The Dead with The Uncle Charles Principle. It begins, “Lily, the caretaker’s daughter, was literally run off her feet (119).” The word ‘literally’ is obviously misused. Lily has not lost her feet. The grammatically correct term would be ‘figuratively’ – “Lily was [figuratively] run off her feet.” The impartial narrator would not make such an obvious mistake, but Lily would. According to Kenner, “The Uncle Charles Principle entails writing about someone much as that someone would choose to be written about (21).” The narrator is writing the line about Lily using Lily’s voice or writing about her as she would write about herself. Joyce uses Lily’s voice to help the reader understand Lily’s character. The Dead is a story about the relationships and differences of the large cast of characters at the Christmas party. When Joyce can slip in a character’s voice, he quickly gives the reader a sense of that character. The reader can feel a level of closeness and understanding of Lily that they can then carry into further interactions with her. Therefore, the Uncle Charles Principle uses the economy of indirect characterization while still tapping into the closeness provided by a character’s voice.
The Uncle Charles Principle creates a promiscuous narrator who can borrow the voice of the character closest to them at that moment. This promiscuity is essential to the principle’s usefulness. It allows for the quick inclusion of multiple character voices into the text. For example, in The Dead’s first two opening paragraphs, we get the voices of Lily, Mary Jane, Aunt Kate, and Aunt Julia without a single line of dialogue.
Lily’s voice is evident in the first line as she is “literally run off her feet.” Mary Jane’s voice is present in the description of her students as “better-class families” and how “Old as they were, her aunts did their share (Joyce 119).” The aunts are heard as the narrator borrows their voices to describe their lifestyle, “Though their life was modest, they believed in eating well; the best of everything: diamond-bone sirloins, three-shilling tea, and the best-bottled stout (Joyce 120).” The second paragraph ends with borrowing Lily’s voice again: “They were fussy, that was all. But the only thing they would not stand was back answers (Joyce 120).” The Uncle Charles Principle helps Joyce quickly establish the characters of Lily, Mary Jane, and the aunts. We are introduced to Lily, who is likely uneducated, generally comfortable with her position, and understanding of her mistresses. Mary Jane’s voice shows us a younger woman proud of the families she teaches. She is kind to her much older aunts and understands their limited ability to contribute to the household. Finally, through the borrowed voices of the aunts, we meet two older women in the twilight season of life who are proud of the lifestyle they maintain and concerned with being seen as enjoying the finer things in life. The Uncle Charles Principle allows all this character-building to happen quickly and without the distance typical in indirect characterization. If Joyce had opened The Dead with the narrator telling us, ‘Two fastidious elderly sisters live with their appreciative niece who is proud of her station and their uneducated housekeeper,’ We would have received all the same information without having any intimacy with these characters. When Joyce chooses to use his Uncle Charles Principle, we feel close to the characters even though we receive them through the narrator. When the narrator borrows their voices, it closes the gap created by indirect characterization.
Joyce shows the effectiveness of The Uncle Charles Principle in a third-person perspective, but can it be used in the first-person point of view? If the story’s narrator is also the main character, is it possible for the main character to borrow the voice of another? The first-person point of view can be limiting because it forces the reader to see only through the eyes of the narrating character. In novels with a large cast of characters, the reader may need to understand scenes from the perspective of the other characters. An adapted version of The Uncle Charles Principle could allow for the inclusion of more character voices to expand past the familiar limitations of the first-person perspective.
I Am One of You Forever by Fred Chappell
Fred Chappell’s I Am One of You Forever uses an adapted version of The Uncle Charles Principle. Told in the retrospective first-person point-of-view, I Am One of You Forever is a novel made of short stories from Jess’s childhood in Appalachia. This is a coming-of-age story about growing up in a culture that questions your continued alliance if you leave or go on to higher education. Jess is forced to ask if he is one of his people or if growth means leaving them behind.
Jess narrates the novel but has split himself in two: the adult Jess retelling his past and the Jess present in the stories. These two versions of Jess give us two different narrative voices. Other narrative voices seep into the text as well. The first-person point of view is naturally limiting as it only allows for the main character’s voice, thoughts, and perspective. Chappell is attempting to bring the reader into a family, a region, and a culture that often questions individual growth. The limitations of the first-person make it challenging to allow the reader into all these spaces. Chappell lets the reader see how Jess grows and changes by including his childhood and adult voices. We are given insight into Jess’s growth through his changing voice. The family and broader culture can seep into the narration by borrowing the voices of Jess’s grandmother, mother, strange relatives, and neighbors.
In Chapter One: “The Good Time,” Jess tells of 1940 when Johnson Gibbs joined the family, and his grandmother’s voice seems mixed with his adult and child narration. We hear the boy Jess describing a sound as being “like a little squeak-dog” (Chappell 9). The adult Jess drops in bits of knowledge and language that the child Jess would never be able to use. “It was a law woven into the fabric of the universe that these two young men were going to have at it;” this is not the language or insight of a small boy. The second half of this sentence dips into a voice that sounds like neither child Jess nor adult Jess. “…and Monday was as good a day as the Lord ever made” (Chappell 9). A reader familiar with the novel’s characters will recognize the grandmother’s distinct voice. Her Appalachian dialect, religious nature, and elderly wisdom have been picked up and added to this narration. Again, we see a promiscuous narrator who borrows the voices of various characters to economically enhance the story and provide more connection to the characters.
In this passage, the Uncle Charles Principle eliminates the need for a narrator to tell the reader about the characters explicitly. The borrowing of voices allows the reader to understand and relate to characters without the distance of indirect characterization or the length required for dialogue. When child Jess talks of a “little squeak-dog,” we can hear his innocence. Adult Jess drops a level of maturity and growth that clues the reader into the person Jess grows up to become. The grandmother’s voice not only clues the reader into her loveable and strict nature but also provides a glimpse into life in Appalachia. This information could have been told in lengthy exposition, but using The Uncle Charles Principle, it is cut to just a few lines and trusts the reader to glean the information on their own.
In a later chapter, we see another example of this when Jess’ Aunt Sam comes to visit. Aunt Sam is a country music star, and we get a feel for her voice in moments of direct dialogue. Her voice is borrowed by the narrator when Jess’ father makes a rude joke that is referenced as a “misplayed note (168).” This language is not our narrator’s voice but instead borrows verbiage from Aunt Sam. Chappell uses this to bring us closer to Aunt Sam with just two short words.
Joyce and Chappell effectively use The Uncle Charles Principle to invite the reader into a large cast of characters and the larger society surrounding them. Joyce can avoid traditional forms of indirect characterization without sacrificing the speed of the style by using The Uncle Charles Principle to include character voices economically. Chappell uses the principle to move past the limitation of the first-person perspective and welcome more voices into the narration. Although The Uncle Charles Principle can effectively close the gap between the reader, narrator, and character, it is not ideal in every situation. Julia Alvarez demonstrates the effectiveness and deeper intimacy created by shifting viewpoints.
In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez
Julia Alvarez relies significantly more on direct characterization in her novel In the Time of the Butterflies. It tells the story of the Mirabal sisters, who opposed the oppressive dictatorship of Raphael Leonidas Trujillo in the Dominican Republic. The novel switches between the voices of the sisters from third-person and first-person points of view and epistolary form. In each chapter, the narrating sister remains true to her voice, and unlike Joyce and Chappell, the narrator never borrows the voice of another character. Direct characterization methods provide a closer and more intimate characterization because it comes directly from and about the character. According to Burroway, “dialogue, appearance, action, and thought” are the four methods of direct characterization (Burroway 44). These methods, and especially dialogue, often require more page space.
Although one of my favorite books because of the intimacy with the characters, Alvarez’s In the Time of the Butterflies has occasionally been accused of being ‘slow’ or ‘boring.[1] Does Alvarez’s use of direct characterization methods cause some readers to find the book too slow? Or is this lingering intimacy Alvarez’s goal for the text?
In the novel’s postscript, Alvarez warns that she was careful not to deify the Mirabal sisters because idolization is how dictators are created in the first place. It puts the sisters’ actions out of reach for the average person. Alvarez was careful to show the sisters in all their complexities and imperfections because it shows that ordinary people can make a difference (323-324). Intimacy was a primary goal for Alvarez, and it was more fitting for her to work inside this and its slower pace than to attempt brevity.
In the voices of Patria or Dede, the narration is from the first-person point of view. Alvarez allows the narrator to rely heavily on personal pronouns, creating closeness to the character. When Patria speaks with her children after being released from prison, the language makes the reader feel as though they are there sharing their private moment. Alvarez writes, “And of course, my children were a wonder. I’d swoop down on them, showering them in kisses. “Mami!” they’d shriek. How lovely to be called mother again; to have their little arms around my neck; their sane, sweet breath in my face (Alvarez 258).” In these four short sentences, Alvarez uses nine personal pronouns to close the gap between reader and narrator until they are so close that they nearly blend. This moment, although beautiful, is verbose and lingering.
If Alvarez would have utilized The Uncle Charles Principle and written the above section as ‘I smooch my babies until they cry, “Mami! How lovely to be called mother again, to receive their sweet snuggles.’” It would essentially express the same information and incorporate the children’s voices, but it would be less intimate. Alvarez deliberately chooses her more intimate approach because her goal is to bring full humanity to each of the Mirabal sisters.
Applying The Uncle Charles Principle
Alvarez’s novel is 324 pages, while Chappell’s is only 184 pages. The length of each novel is essential to the story the author wanted to tell. When writing, we must home in on precisely the story we want. Is character intimacy the primary focus of our piece? In that case, like Alvarez, it might be better to slow the writing and dive deep into character. If we want a short, snappy piece like Chappell and Joyce, then the Uncle Charles Principle can be used effectively. New writers are especially prone to overwriting, but examining how voices are used can help writers trim their work while creating closeness between reader and character.
Bibliography
Alvarez, Julia. In the Time of the Butterflies. 1st ed, Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 1994.
Burroway, Janet, et al. Writing Fiction: A Guide to Narrative Craft. Tenth edition, The University of Chicago Press, 2019.
Chappell, Fred. I Am One of You Forever. Louisiana State University Press, 1985.
Joyce, James. “The Dead.” Dubliners, Dover Publications, 1991, pp. 119–51.
Kenner, Hugh. Joyce’s Voices. 1st Dalkey Archive ed, Dalkey Archive Press, 2007. “Novel Pairings: In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez, Coming of Age Stories, and Sweeping Historical Fiction on Apple Podcasts.” Apple Podcasts, https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/in-the-time-of-the-butterflies-by-julia-alvarez/id1500764291?i=1000520026812. Accessed 14 Feb. 2022
[1] In the podcast Novel Pairings, Chelsey and Sara discuss the novel and how, although they enjoyed the book, it can be slow at times. They discuss that it might not work, especially in a high school class, because of its slower pace and because it may be “boring” for those students. I also experienced this when I was a T.A. for a World Literature course in 2013, and many students complained that it was too slow.
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