CHAPTER III.

ASPECTS OF T H E STREAFUOF-CONSCIOUSNESS NOVEL

Phase I

Plot vs Experiment : An A p p r a i s a l

Ue have a l r e a d y analysed i n some d e t a i l t he f o r ma t i v e

influences on t h e stream-of-consciousness technique i n modern

fiction. But before ue go i n t o a s t u d y of t he various aspects

of the "neu" novel (conforming to a neui t e c h n i q u e ) , ue would

do well to r e c a l l some interesting facts of history uhi ch

may have close bearings on t h e point at issue. W i l l i a m Games

had f i r s t given the p hr a s e "Stream_of Thought" in 1890 in

his s tudy of the working mi n d. It uas, howe ve r, May S i n c l a i r

who i n t r o d u c e d the me t a ph o r ' ' Stream of c o n s c i o u s n e s s 1* f i r s t

in l i t e r a r y criticism in 1918 in an a r t i c l e in The E q o i s t

( vol. IV, April 1918) on D o r o t h y Richardson's first three

novels Pointed Roofs . Backwater and Honeycomb. That was

indeed a c l a s s i c beginning of a c anon of c r i t i c i s m . The

reading of these novels had added one d i m e n s i o n t o the u n d e r ­

standi ng of the presentation of life in f i c t i o n . May S i n c l a i r

observes :

t h e r e is no d r a ma , no s i t u a t i o n , no s e t s c e n e .
N o t h i n g h a p p e n s . It is l i f e goi ng on and on.
And i n n e i t h e r discernible
b e g i n n i n g or m i u m . ^ ^j. o..u .

The presentation of the fluid life of Miriam Henderson in

fiction is to unload t he Aristotelian convention that plot

1May S i n c l a i r , ’’The No v e l s of Dorot hy Richardson"

E.R. Steinberg ( e d . ) , op.cit., p .93.
 5^

c ompri ses a "beginning, middle and e n d . " 2 It requires a neu/

a pproach for critical judgement.

Now e v e r y fiction reader is familiar with plot and

story. A plot is a formulation of basically external means

to gi ve a causality of events set against t he chronology of

time. In As pe c t s of the Novel E .P' i.Forster has defined story

and plot in apparently unquestionable t e r ms . The former is

a "a n a r r a t i v e of events arranged in t h e i r t i m e - s e q u e n c e "

and the latter "is also a narrative of events, t h e emphasis

falling on c a u s a l i t y . " T o make it more c o m p r e h e n s i v e , he

adds :

' T he k i n g d i e d and then the queen d i e d , ' is a s t o r y .

' T h e k i n g d i e d , and t he n the queen d i e d of g r i e f , '
is a p l o t . T h e t i me -s e q u e n c e is p r e s e r v e d , but t h e
s e n s e of c a u s a l i t y over s hadows i t . ~

Novels from the eighteenth century to t h e c l o s e of

the n i n e t e e n t h century c o mpri se a long history of a great

tradition founded on F o r s t e r ' s concepts of plot and story.

Associated with plot or s t o r y is the desire "to give pleasure

by g r a t i f y i n g the love of the uncommon in human experience."4

Every novel has a story to t e l l as a prerequisite, as i5

found i n Tom 3 ones , P ame l a , Do s e ph Andrews, \l a n i t y Fair,

2 A r i s t o t l e , On t h e Art of P o e t r y t r a n s c Ingram
Byuater ( London : O x f o r d U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , r p t . , 1 976) , p . 40 .

3 E.lyl . F o r s t e r , As p e c t s of t h e Novel ( Har mo n d s y o r t h ,

M i d d l e s e x i P e n g u i n Books L t d . r p t . 1 9 7 0 ) , p p . 9 3 —9 4 .

4 rUriam A l l o t t , N o v e l i s t s on t he Novel ( London :

R o u t l e d g e and K e g a n P a u l ^ ” 19 5 9 ) , p . 3 .
 55

Mi ddlemarch, Great E x p e c t a t i o n s . The R e t u r n of the Nati ve

etc. etc. The reader is a l wa y s bound to ask " Uha t would

5
happen next" from t h e beginning of the novel to t he end as

the plot progresses t o wa r ds a climax. Mysteries, suspsnse,

fantasies, conflicts, discoveries and f i n a l deneoument are

other f e a t u r e s of the art of s t o r y - t e l l i n g .

>. In a s h a r p contrast, a s t r e a m-o f -c o n s c i o u s n e s s novel

deals wi t h t h i n g s on a d i f f e r e n t p l a n e for obv i o us reasons.

To the s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s novelist it is no use t a l k i n g

about p l o t . "I c a n make up s i t u a t i o n s , " declares Virginia

Woolf,' " b u t I cannot make up p l o t s , T h e new n o v e l i s t wrote

a new " t y p e of fiction," says R o b e r t Humphrey,

in wh i c h t h e b a s i c e mpha s i s is pl aced on t he e x p l o ­
r a t i o n of t h e p r e s p e e c h l e v e l of c o n s c i o u s n e s s for
the p u r p o s e p r i m a r i l y , of r e v e a l i n g t h e p s yc h i c bei ng
of t h e c h a r a c t e r s . " '

This very effort to capture the unspoken or inarticulate

state of human c o n s c i o u s n e s s renders changes in the fictional

art n e c e s s a r y . It is discernible t hat the r e l e v a n c e of plot

and s t o r y - t e l l i n g to s u c h a method of novel writing is rele­

gated to a f l i m s y outline.

Plot was a proper novel ist ic t o o l when m a n ’ s image

5
Forster, op «c i t . , p . 34.

V i r g i n i a Uoolf, A U r i t e r *s D i a r y (Granada : Triad

r pt., 1981 j , p . 1 1 8 .

^ Rober t Hump hr e y, S t r e a m of C o n s c i o u s n e s s i n the

Modern Novel ( B e r k l e y and Los A n g e l e s : U n i v e r s i t y of
California Press, 1 9 5 5 ), p .1 .
 56

uas kept integrated, and he himself represented or through

him uas represented a consolidated social structure. Whi l e

the function of art u as extrinsic rather than intrinsic,

i.e., it was to put a n aim s o c i a l l y beneficial or e n j o y a b l e

by way of telling a delightful story having an irony or an

allegory or adventure or at least a moral implication put

f orward, and having an image of integrated life in s o c i e t y

in the form of love, friendship and m a r r i a g e , pl ot served

to e f f e c t a better artistic function^ Under s t r e s s of

changes, uncertainties, chaos, a n a r c h y and c o n f u s i o n s , t he

origin of wh i c h is attributed directly or i n d i r e c t l y to man -

an agent of crisis in t he modern c i v i l i z a t i o n - intrinsic

values once l i t t l e known, have become a subject of g r e a t

interest. The notion that chaos could not be e x p r e s s e d in

terms o t h e r than itself had far reaching consequences in

literature - and this l e d to a new experimentation. In

fiction the plotless experimental s t r e a m-o f -c o n s c i o u s n e s s

novel eme r g e d , just as i n drama t he absur d theatre s pr ang

up - both i n the hands of a v a n t -g a r d e young radicals.

Intensifying the p oi nt of v i e w of Henry 3ames and

the attempt of Conr ad t o put the narrator inside the s t o r y

f or comment and explanation, Dorothy Richardson was busy

with her own p r o bl e m of finding "a feminine equivalent of

current masculine realism", while Joyce also remained

superbly dedicated to an intense literary ambition :

 57

I have r e c o r d e d , s i mu l t a n e o u s l y , uhat a man s a y s ,

s e e s , t h i n k s and uhat s u c h , s e e i n g , t h i n k i n g , s a y i n g
does t o u ha t you F r e u d i a n s c a l l s u b c o n s c i o u s

Th e English novel upto t h e E dwar di a n period di d not

pay any a t t e n t i o n to this subjective ’’element of incoherence

9
in our c o n s c i o u s p r o c e s s , 11 h e n c e t he s t r e a m-o f -c o n s c i o us ness

novel i sts had to look beyond t he E n g l i s h Channel to France

and R u s s i a f or inspiration. They l a ugh e d at their predece­

ssors uho were p l o t makers. Joyce's contempt f or the E n g l i s h

noveli sts ( and for English language also) was of an e xtr eme

type : all his life he was abroad under the guise of s e l f ­

exi l e , e xc e pt that he came t w i c e back to D u b l i n . This is t he

route he f o l l o w e d throughout his life : Par is , D) ubl i n, Z u r i c h ,

Trieste, Rome, Dublin, Trieste, Zurich, Trieste, Paris.

Expressi ng his own d e e p -r o o t e d hatred of t h e c ontemporary

English novelists Joyce wrote t o hi s br o t he r from Rome in

1906 : "Without boasting, I think I have l i t t l e or not hi ng

10
to learn from English novelists." Notably, he l e ar n t

without any g r u d g e from Ibsen, Flaubert, the F r e n c h s y mb o l i s t

poets, D a n t e , Ho me r , Shakespeare, Bl ake , Swift, De f o e and

Vico. J o y c e ’ s knowledge of and fluency in English, Italian,

Fr e n c h , German and twelve other tongues including some d i a ­

l ects make his language turn from t h e c o n s c i o u s as in Ul ys s a s

^Steinberg (ed.), op.c i t . , p . 154.

^ J o s e p h W a r r e n Beach, T h e T w e n t i eth Ce nt u r y Novel

( L ud hi a n a I Lyal 1 Book D e p o t , Is"t I nd ian r p t . , 19 69) , p . 5 l 7 .

1 0 Q u o t e d ^ R o b e r t Ma r t i n Adams, Af ter J o y c e : S t u d i e s
i n F i c t i o n Af t e r U 1 v s s es ( New York J Oxford U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s ,
? 9 7 7 ) , p . 8.
 58

to the dream l a n g u a g e in Finnegans Uake. In case of E l i o t

also none of the English predecessors had influenced him.

For him a l s o the French symbolists and the E n g l i s h J ac o bea n

d r a ma t i s t s had become a source of inspiration. Similarly,

Virginia Uoolf says her predecessors had p r o v i d e d a house in

"the hope t h a t we may be a b l e to d e d u c e the human beings who

11
live t h e r e , 11 but the house, she finds to h er mortification,

just cannot a c c o mmo d a t e the present c oncept of the life.

Nothing of t h e old r e ma i n s suitable for the new g e n e r a t i o n ,

to uhich Virginia Uoolf, Joyce, Dorothy Ri ch a rd s on , Forster,

Laurence and E l i o t belong.^ Naturally, Virginia Uo o l f con­

tinues to a s s e r t that if t he now bI 1st jLs cnnnprneri -uiith the

quality of mind or human n a t u r e or the rev e l a t ion jof^ s o u l

in the French and R u s s i a n mode of expression of characters

then " t h e r e uould be no p l o t , no comedy, no t r a g e d y , no l ove

........................................................................... — ----------------------- 12 ~

i nterest or catastrophe i n the accepted s t y l e . " j

The concept of comedy or t r a g e d y is basically related

to a c t i o n of the hero uhich mi ght result in h i s rise or f a l l .

These terms have become u n c e r e mo n i o u s in s p h e r e s relatively

c onf i ne d to t h e significance of moments rather t h a n to s t a t e s

of a f f a i r . Such independent moments cannot be reduced to

limiting t e r ms , comedy and tragedy.^ Carefully o bs e r ve d,

1 V i r g i n i a U o o l f , "Mr B e n n e t t and Mrs B r o u n , " The

C a p t a i n 1s D e a t h Bed ( L o n d o n ! T h e Hogar th P r e s s , 1 9 5 0 ) , p. 106 .

12 " Mod e r n F i c t i o n , " op.cit. , p . 189.

 59

life's states and inner working of mind would seam f ar from

any precise shape a nd form to be put in a d e f i n i t e plot

pattern. Any n o v e l i s t i c effort in t ha t d i r e c t i o n would l e a d

to w as t age of material, and one might not be a b l e to s e e the

wood for t he t r e e s . ^

At t h e s ame time, the i mp a ct of the t i me s on t he nature

and r e l e v a n c e of t heme s is n o t e w o r t h y and has to be r e c k o n e d

with. So f a r love interest is concerned, the modern a nt i -

heroes are incapable of indulging in love a f f a i r s . The heroes

are set against fleeting backgrounds, where s c e n e s , charac­

ters, milieu, personality and impersonality are merged to

make o u t l i n e s blurred indistinguishably one from a n o t h e r . The

absence of courtship or even a mood of it in t h e stream-of-

consci ous ness novels is an expression of t he age's indiffe­

rence to comedy or tragedy. In this context D a v i d D a i c h e s ' s

view d e s e r v e s attention :

In t h e R e s t o r a t i o n p e r i o d t he s e d u c t i o n of a g i r l b y
a young man was a comedy; i n t he e i g h t e e n t h and n i n e ­
t e e n t h c e n t u r i e s i t was a t r a g e d y ; but in a l l cases
it was s o m e t h i n g s i g n i f i c a n t , one way or the o t h e r .
T o a t w e n t e e t h —c e n t u r y mind it might w e l l be n e i t h e r
comedy nor t r a g e d y — s i m p l y a wholly u ni mpor t a nt
d e ta il. ^^

It a p p ea r s that the theme of l ove and ma r r i a g e i n t he

modern f i c t i o n as a whol e is not overemphasized; rather it

becomes merely an u n i mp o r t a n t fact, its t r e a t me n t remains

13D) ai chas , T h e Novel and the Modern LJorld (Chicago :

Chicago University Press, 1948) , p . 8 .
 60

mostly s k e t c h y . Besides this, it l os es its moral and other

social s i g n i f i c a n c e s , as s to r ms of questioning a t t i t u d e are

being raised against the institution of m a r r i a g e . After

readi ng Hardy's Jude the Ob s c ur e . L a u r e n c e ’ s Sons and Lovers.

Joyce's Ulyss e s , as for instance, one;.; needs to reassess t he

prej udi ces concerning marriage. The apparent inconsistencies

in the mind of these anti-heroes are dus to psychological

rather t ha n s e n s u a l factors. A modern man l ooks upon ma r r i a g e

neither as a social function nor as a spiritual need. Hugh

Ualpole et al is correct in hi s stand : " The Victorian novel

assumed q u i t e falsely that marriage uas the best possible

haven for i ts more v i r t u o u s c h a r a c t e r s . Ue have changed all

14
that in our lives as uell as in our novels.” So a stream- j

of-consc ious nes s novelist, in his attempt to convey t he

spi ri t of the age, has to discard lave interest in his novel

except that it may figure feebly in the background. Since

the s t r e a m—of —c ons c i ous nes s n o v e l i s t is c o n c e r n e d uith t he

r e n de r i n g of the inner reality of mind t h e business of

marriage as a theme appears to have been rendered rather

ins i q n i f i c a n t .

To i l l u s t r a t e a f e u more points of plot versus experi­

ment the f o i l o u i n g facts may be s t r e s s e d . The e x p e r i me n t a l

no ve l draus the reader inside t he character’ s mind; the

1 4 Hugh U a l p o l e et a l , Tendencies of t he Modern N o v e l ,

p .26.
novel is a product of the novelist who is a self-introverted

personality. He is deeply involved with s o u l , and the s t o r y

he uses is a matter of ego probl em or id_ p r o b l e m . In V ir g i n i a

Woolf's The Waves Neville s ays :

Bernard s a y s t h e r e is a l wa y s a s t o r y . I am a s t o r y .
L oui s is a s t o r y . T h e r e is t he s t o r y of the boot-boy,
t h e s t o r y of t h e man w i t h one e ye, t h e s t o r y of t h e
woman who s e l l s w i n k l e s , 15

There is the least misgiving about a novelist's self-exami­

nation i n the age. His mind is r e c e p t i v e so as to record

whatever impression that passes above, behind, beyond or

inside the handiwork of his mi n d . Of course, one would

have to admi t the difficulty t he novelist faces "to convey

this v a r y i n g , this unknown and c i r c u m s c r i b e d s p i r i t , uhatever

A£1
aberration or c o m p l e x i t y it may d i s p l a y . " The difficulty

of the n o v e l i s t is that he is surrounded by t h e dark f o r c e s

of s o ul , non-v er bal i z e d and irrational human t r a i t s . It is

not p o s s i b l e to understand one man in o n e ' s lifetime research.

In a l e t t e r to H e r b e r t Read Jung wr i t e s :

T h e g r e a t p r o b l e m of our t i me is the f a c t that ue

d o n ' t u n d e r s t a n d what is h a p pe n i n g in t h e w or l d.
We are c o n f r o n t e d wi t h t he da r kn e s s of our s o u l f
the U n c o n s c i o u s . I t s e n d s up i t s dark and unre­
c o g n i z a b l e u rg e s . . . . We a r e s t i l l in a s h o c k i n g l y
primitive s t a t e of m i n d , and the main r e a s o n is
t h a t we c a n n o t become o b j e c t i v e in p h y s i c a l m a t t e r s . 1 '

15V ir gin ia Wo olf, The Waves ( London : The Hogarth

Press, rpt. 1 9 6 0 ) , p . 2 7 .

^ ________________ "Modern F i c t i o n " op.cit. , p . 189.

1 7 Herbert R e a d , T h e C u l t of Sincerity ( L o n do n :
Faber and F a b e r , 1 9 6 8 ; , p . 1 2 6 .
 62

J u ng is right u he n he s a y s that writers cannot become

objective in physical matters. It is the s u b j e c t i v e "I" or

its equivalent in the interior monologues of the stream-of-

consci ous n es s novels that posesja s e r i o u s probl e m for fiction

readers and future practitioners. No y o n d e r , t h e i r response

is p o o r , i n c r e d i b l y poor. Here is an interesting but d e r i d i n g

comment of Gerald Gould on U ly ss e s . as being "a book almost

exactly like the London Telephone D i r e c t o r y in s i z e and

18
ueight and on l y slightly less monotonous in s t y l e . " Such

a criticism cannot s h u n t h e many d i m e n s i o n a l and almost ency­

clopaedic knowledge in Ulysses. w h i c h was written as a self-

reflection of Joyce himself. Joyce did not write to please

anybody but himself. It is a type of intellectual response

of a r e a d e r , having scholarly background, that c a n do j u s t i c e

to the s t y l e of Lll ys s es . Perhaps t o some it may seem to be

a culmination of art for a r t ’ s sake.

One c a n n o t deny that difficulty or obsurity is a p ar t

of modern literature as a whole. Leon E d e l , the great psycho­

l ogi cal critic, confesses his ovin i n a b i l i t y to know the ex a c t

age of Miriam, whe n he re ad t he first volume of P ilqrimaqe;

his false calculation of the h e r o i n e ’ s age is "produced by

the pincenez, the Saratoga trunk, the " g r o w n -u p " airs assumed

1 8 Q u o t e d ; P e l h a m E d g a r , T h e Art of the Novel (New

York : R u s s e l l and R e s s e l l , 196 6 ) , p . 3 0 1 .
by Miriam and my f a i l u r e to note the earlier clues to her

exact a g e . 9

Whether one wel c omes it or n o t , it is a fact that a

neu novel form h ad developed in t he earlier tuo decades of

the c e n t u r y . As Bergsonian duration uas currently acknow­

ledged i n literary circles, the lining up of events in ti me

broke d o u n . Instead, things of t he past and present are

i nterl ocked simultaneously, and plot complications give uay

to d i g r e s s i o n s . Basically, in the s tr eam-of—c o n s c i ousness

novels the surface relations of t he events in time are

reduced to incongruity. Yet the inner structural relations

are established at all cost, that gradually they impose

significance till a synthetic and s y mbo l i c me a n i n g e mer ges .

No wonder, i ma ge after i ma g e , motif after mo t i f t h e form of

a total structure is rapidly crystallized, in t he attempt

of uhich t h e novelist rejects "uhatever it be probability,

or c o h e r e n c e , or a ny ot he r of these signposts uhich f or

generations have served to support the imagination of a

r e a d e r . " 2? It is not only that uhile reading a stream-of- ,

consciousness novel these points should necessarily be kept

a si de null and v o i d it is also n e c e s s a r y to a d o p t Coleridge1

"uilling suspension of disbelief.”

1 9 Leon E d e l , T h e P s y c h o l o g i c a l Novel 1 9 0 0 -1 9 5 0
( Lud hi ana I L y a l l Book D e p o t , 1 s t I n d i a n r p t , , 1 9 6 5 ) , p . 6 8 .

2 0 " Modern F i c t i o n , " o p . c i t . t p p . 1 9 0 -9 1 .

 Now it may be neither desirable nor possible to ma i n ­

tain that p l ot uas bad and experiment is good. The pres ent

study is not concerned uith an analysis of the uses and

abuses of plot and experimentation. The f a ct of t h e matter

is - and one must take it in all its significant ramifica­

tions - t h a t it is purely a matter of the s p i r i t of the ti me

that makes a literary technique adequate or inadequate,useful

or o b s o l e t e . * / A s e n s i t i v e artist knows the p rompt i ngs of t he

age (and thus alone can he ge t going) uhile others do n o t .

That is uhy a generation is represented truly only by a

handful of s e n s i t i v e artists. The problem is, as William

Van O’ Connor points out :

The c o n t e m p o r a r y r e a d e r c an e n j o y a n ov e 1 la or a
h e r oi c d r a m a , but h e c a n n o t e n j o y e i t h e r i f w r i t t e n
by a t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y s h o r t s t o r y w r i t e r or drama­
tist. To be t r u e t o hi s a r t a man must be t r u e to f
his a g e . He must u s e t h e r e s o u r c e s i t p r e s e n t s to
him. 2 1

The novelist is a person who c a n c h o o s e t he right and proper

tool to e x p r e s s h i s b u s i n e s s in the most fashionable way.

Therefore a modern novelist has quite justifiably chosen to

employ the s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s technique, which is

primarily in k e e pi n g with hi s peculiar literary purposes.

^ W i l l i a m Wan O ’ C o n n o r , " T h e Novel of Our T i m e ”

O ’Connor ( e d . ) , F o r m s of Modern F i c t i o n ( London : The
University of M i n n e s o t a P r e s s , 2 n d r p t . c . 1 9 4 8 ) , p . 2 .
 65

Phase I I

Te chni ques

The s tream - of- conscious ness novel is distinguished

fro* other k i n d s by v i r t u e of its emp ha sis on t h e new n a r r a ­

tive t e c h n i q u e s that were popularized i n the t w e n t i e t h c e n t u r y .

But the s t u d y of techniques, as such, is to encounter d i f f i ­

culties for one s u r e reason that the exponents o f the sane

novel-form u s e d different narrative techniques a nd t h a t t h e i r

dif fe r en c es w er e obvious more often t h a n us u s u a l l y t h i n k .

The present s t u d y would centre round some of t he commonly

found t e c h n i q u e s in the stream-of-consciousness fiction, and

in a s tudy of this kind one way have to allow for sons dis­

cursiveness in the discussions, howsoever r e s t r i c t e d .

\ in te rio r m o n o l o g u e

Of a l l the techniques in t h e streaw-of-consciousness

novel, interior monologue is the most commonly employed f or

the purpose of expressing the flickering and non-verbal

linguistic p henomenon of the interior life of the character’ s

psyche. A w e l l - kn o w n d e f i n i t i o n of it is t h a t of Robert

Humphrey’ s :

I n t e r i o r m o n o l o g u e , i s , t h e n , t h e t e c h n i q u e used in
f i c t i o n f o r r e p r e s e n t i n g t h e p sy c hi c c o n t e n t and
p r o c e s s e s o f c h a r a c t e r , p a r t l y or e n t i r e l y u n u t t e r e d ,
j u s t as t h e s e p r o c e s s e s e x i s t at v a r i o u s l e v e l s of
conscious c o n t r o l befo re they are formulated for
deliberate s p e e c h . 2 2

2 2 Robert Hu mphrey, Stream, of Consciousness in the

ffodern N o v e l , p . 2 4 .
 66

Surprisingly, its o r i g i n a t o r was none of t he a r c h i ­

tects of t h e s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s novelists, Joyce, Proust,

Dorothy R i c h a r d s o n , Virginia Uoolf etc. It was Edouard

Dujardin, a French novelist, to yhom is a s c r i b e d to whom the

twentieth c e n t u r y novelists are greatly indebted* In his

novel Les Lauriers sont c o up es (1888) he i n t r o d u c e d this

method t o c a p t u r e the momentary incandescences of t he f l e e ­

ting wind of the hero. n Internal m o n o l o g u e 11 i s t h e term he

gives for this technique and in Le roonolooue interieur he

defines t h us :

T h e i n t e r n a l m o n o l o g u e , l i k e e ve ry mono lo gu e is the
s p e e c h o f a g i v e n c h a r a c t e r d e s i g n e d t o i n t r o d u c e us
d i r e c t l y i n t o t h e i n t e r n a l l i f e of t h i s c h a r a c t e r ,
w i t h o u t a u t h o r ’ s i n t e r v e n i n g by e x p l o r i n g or commen­
t i n g , a n d l i k e e v e r y m o n o l o g u e , is a d i s c o u r s e w i t h ­
out l i s t e n e r a n d a d i s c o u r s e u n s p o k e n ; but i t d i f f e r s
from t h e t r a d i t i o n a l mo no l og u e i n t h a t :
as r e g a r d s i t s s u b s t a n c e , it e x p r e s s e s the most
intimate tho ugh ts, those c l o s e s t to t he u n c o n s c i o u s ;
as r e g a r d s i t s s p i r i t , i t is d i s c o u r s e b ef o r e
any l o g i c a l o r g a n i z a t i o n , r e p r o d u c i n g t h o u g h t in its
o r i g i n a l s t a t e as i t comes i n t o t h e m i n d ;
a s f o r i t s f o r m , i t is e x p r e s s e d by means of
d i r e c t s e n t e n c e s r e d u c e d t o s y n t a c t i c minimum;
t h u s i t r e s p o n d s e s s e n t i a l l y to t h e conception
u h i c h we h a v e t o d a y of p o e t r y . 2*

It was f u r t h e r developed by D o y c e , Proust, Dorothy Richardson,

^V irg in ia Uoolf and U i l l i a m F a u l k n e r i n t o a ma jo r fictional

technique in place of the s h i b b o l e t h s of the narrative method

of t he t r a d i t i o n a l novel.

2 3 Quoted L eon Ed el, The Psychological Novel,

pp. 53-54. N
 67

Of course, Dorothy Richardson and V i r g i n i a Uoolf t r i e d

to convey the nature of reality in t h e i r fe m in i n e prose w h i c h ,

in the words of D o r o t h y R i c h a r d s o n , ws ho u l d properly be un­

punctuated, w o w in g f rom point to point without f o r m a l o bstruc-

2A
tions." Joyce’s presentation of women’ s c o n s c i o u s n e s s far

e xc el le d bo t h D o r o t h y R i c h a r d s o n ’ s and V i r g i n i a Uoolf*s -

being h i m s l e f firmly commi tt ed to the kind of u n p u n c t u a t e d

language o f w om e n. The interior monologue of Mo l ly Bloom in

the l a s t forty five p a ge s of Ulysses is a classic example

of this kind of language ewer u s e d in literature. Here is

Molly Bloom :

Yes b e c a u s e he n e v e r d i d a t h i n g l i k e t h a t b e f o r e as
ask to g e t h i s b r e a k f a s t i n bed with a c o u p l e of eggs
s i n c e t h e C i t y Arms h o t e l when he used to be p r e t e n d i n g
t o be l a i d u p w i t h a s i c k v o i c e doing h is high ne ss
to make h i m s e l f i n t e r e s t i n g t o t hat o l d f a g g o t f*lrs
R i o r d a n t h a t he t h o u g h t he had a g r e a t l e g of and s h e
ne ve r l e f t us a f a r t h i n g a l l f o r masses f o r h e r s e l f
and her soulfj g r e a t e s t mi se r e v er was a c t u a l l y a f r a i d
t o l a y out 4 d f o r h er m e t h y l a t e d s p i r i t t e l l i n g me
a l l her a i l m e n t s s h e had t oo much old c h a t in her
a bo ut p o l i t i c s and e a r t h q u a k e s and t h e end of the
w o r l d l e t us have a b i t of f u n f i r s t God h e l p the
w o rl d i f a l l t h e women w er e her s o r t down on bathing-
s u i t s and l o w n e c k s of c o u r s e nobody w a n t e d her to
wear I s u p p o s e s h e was p i o u s because no man would
look;- at h e r t w i c e I hope 111 never be l i k e her a
wonder s h e d i d n t want us t o c over our f a c e s , . . 25

It is the purely embryonic, unuttered and ceaselessly

f l o w i n g t ho ug h t of Nolly. It does not have a w e l l - d e f i n e d

2 ^ Do ro t hy R i c h a r d s o n , F o r w a r d to P i l g r i m a g e ,
Steinberg ( e d ) , o p . c i t . , p . 8 0 .

2 ^James J o y c e , Ulysses t p . 7 3 8 .
 68

border with beginning, a middle and an e nd; it is not go in g

on and on s i m p l y , but is a do wn-p our in g of t h e inner mind

itself in i t s original, disjointed, illogical and s ymbol ic

form. In it Joyce s ee ms to have perfected u ha t D u j a r d i n has

defined, and here Molly is seeking an “absolute release from

self in a k i n d of N irv an a,” as Ethel F . Cornwall has a r g u e d .

Uith the external stimuli k ept shut out, her personality is

completely m e l t i n g , in w hi ch the past, p re s e n t and future a re

blended to form t h e history of M o l l y ’ s mind a t a moment,

spiritually. John Spencer rightly o bs er ve s :

Mo lly B l o o m ' s i n n e r s o l i l o q u y be fo r e s l e e p has t he

smooth movement of u n b r o k e n r e v e r i e ; o n ce begun i t
is s e l f - s t i m u l a t i n g , e n d l e s s l y f l o w i n g w i t ho u t
r e f e r e n c e to h e r i mm edi at e p h y s i c a l s u r r o u n d i n g s . 2 ?

Interior monologue is classified i n t o two kinds : djjrect

and y j d i r e c t . The difference b et wee n them is c o n f i n e d to t h e

absence of the author description i n t he one, and t h e i n c l u s i o n

of the a u t h o r i a l comments like tthe f e l t , * * whe t h o u g h t ” e t c .

in the o t h e r , in the presentation of the c h a r a c t e r ' s psyche.

S i m il a rl y t h e r e a d e r is d raw n d i r e c t l y into the character’s

mind i n t h e one and indirectly in t he other. First person

n a r r at i ve t e c h n i q u e is common in the former, while s ec ond or

t hi rd p er s on n a r r a t i v e method is used i n t he l a t t e r to show

26 Ethel F . C o r n w a l l , The S t i l l P o i n t (New B r u n s w i c k ,

New J e r s e y 5 R u t g e r s U n i v e r s i t y Press, c. 1962), p.3.

2 7 J ohn S p e n c e r " A Note on t h e ' S t e a d y Monoloquy of

t h e i n t e r i o r s ’ 1* A R e v i e w of E n g l i s h L i t e r a t u r s V l . 1 1 . A p r i l ,
1 9 6 5 ( L o n d o n s L o n g m a n s , G r e e n and C o . L t d . c . 1 9 6 5 ) , p . 4 0 .
 6$

the c o n t i n u o u s presence of the author. Joyce, Pr ou st and

F au lk n er c h o s e the direct interior monologue while Virginia

Uoolf and D o r o t h y R i c h a r d s o n p r e f e r a b l y chose the indirect

intarior monologue. The following two p a s s a g e s , one from

Ulysses and a n o t h e r f r om T o t h e Lighthouse will illustrate

these p o i n t s :

Mr Bloom w i t h c a r e f u l hand recomposed his wet

shirt. 0 L o r d , t h a t l i t t l e l i m p i n g d e v i l . Begins
t o f e e l c o l d a n d clammy. A f t e r e f f e c t not p l e a s a n t .
S t i l l you h a v e t o get r i d of i t some wa y. T h ey d o n ' t
c a r e . C o m p l i m e n t e d p e r h a p s . Go home t o n i c e y bread
and m i l k y a n d s a y n i g h t p ra y e r s w i t h t h e k i d d i e s .
W e l l , a r e n ’ t t h e y . S e e h e r as s h e is s p o i l a l l . Must
have t he s t a g e s e t t i n g , t h e r o u g e , c o s t u m e , p o s i t i o n ,
m u s i c . Th e name t o o . Amours of a c t r e s s e s . Ne ll Gwynn,
Mrs B r a c e g i r d l e , Hand B r a n s c o m b e . C u r t a i n u p . Moon­
l i g h t s i l v e r e f f u l g e n c e . M a id en d i s c o v e r e d wit h
p e n s i v e bosom . . . . S u p p o s e I spoke to h e r . Uhat
a b o u t ? Bad p l a n however i f you d o n ’ t know how to end
t h e c o n v e r s a t i o n . Ask them a q u e s t i o n t h e y ask you
a n o t h e r . G o o d i d e a i f y o u ’ r e i n a c a r t . W o n d er f u l of
c o u r s e i f you s a y : good e v e n i n g , and you s e e s h e ’ s
on f o r i t : good e v e n i n g . . . « 28

Here is a t y p i c a l example of indirect interior monologue

fro* To t he Lighthouse :

( ^ P e o p l e s o o n d r i f t a p a r t , ’ s a i d Mr B a n k e s , f e e l i n g ,
h o w e v e r , some s a t i s f a c t i o n when he t h o u g h t t h a t a f t e r
a l l he knfcu b o t h t h e Plannings and the R a m s a y s . He had
not d r i f t e d a p a r t , he t h o u g h t , l a y i n g down his spo on
and w i p i n g h i s c l e a n - s h o w n l i p s p u n c t i l i a t a s l y ) But
perhaps he was r a t h e r u n u s u a l , he t h o u g h t , i n t h i s j h e
never l e t h i m s e l f g e t i n t o a g r o o v e . . . . W e l l , t ho ug h t
U i l l i a m B a n k e s , p r e s e r v i n g a demeanour of e x q u i s i t e
c o u r t s e y and m e r e l y s p r e a d i n g t he f i n g e r s of his l e f t
hand on t h e t a l e c l o t h as a mechanic e x a mi ne s a t o o l
. . . . L o o k i n g at h is hand he tho ug h t t h a t i f he had

OQ
Dames D o y c e , Ulysses, p .370.
 70

been a l o n e d i n n e r w ou l d have been f r e e t o wor k. Yes,

he t h o u g h t , i t i s a t e r r i b l e waste of t i m e . 29

It is noticed that in the first interior monologue the

author’ s d i r e c t involvement is a bsolutely missing w h i l e t he

reader is d raw n into the character's mind d i r e c t l y . His

presence in t h e rendition of B l o o m ’ s t hought is spiritualized

and " l i k e t h e God of c r e a t i o n , r emains within or behind or

beyond or a b o v e h is handiwork, invisible, refiffci out of

30
e xi stence, indifferent, paring h is fingernails,” as J oy c e

himself i n s i s t s on t h e relationship between t h e art and t he

creator. Uhereas in Virginia W o o l f ’ s case her r o l e is one

of a mediator between the character and r e a d e r , d r a w i n g t he

reader i n t o t h e consciousness of the character indirectly

through t h e writer. Occasionally Virginia Woolf gives, of

course, to make t h e reader know, t h e name of the character,

uhose s t r e a m - o f - t h o u g h t the re ade r is following like "Well,

thought W i l l i a m B a n k e s . . . . 11

The f l e x i b i l i t y of t h e i n t e r i o r monogue t e c h n i q u e is

to h e igh te n t h e sense of t h e instable nature of reality,

which can be r e n d e r e d objectively and s u b j e c t i v e l y in t he

s t r e a m -o f -c o ns ci o us n es s novel.

It w i l l be of c o n s i d e r a b l e i n t e r e s t to bring here

ano th er i n t e r i o r mo no l og u e known as e r l e b t e R e d e , a German

vx'

29I o t he L i g h t h o u s e ( H a r m o n d s u o r t h , Middlesex :
P en gui n r p t . , 1 9 7 4 ) , p . 1 0 2 .

3 0 ft P o r t r a i t of t h e A r t i s t as a Young Han (Harmonds­

uorth, Middlesex : Penguin B oo k, r p t . 1 9 6 9 ) , p . 2 1 5 .
 71

terra. By c o n s t i t u t i o n it is neither direct i n t e r i o r monologue

nor indirect interior m on ol ogu e for t he r e a s o n that it d i s ­

penses uith the first person n a r r a t o r and t he authorial

comments a l i k e . However, s u r p r i s i n g l y the t h i r d person

narrator is ’’ b o t h t h e r e and not t h e r e ” and t h e stream-of-

c o n s c i ou s ne ss is depicted entirely " fr om t he perspective of

the c h a r a c t e r but the use of third per so n s u g g e s t s a report

----- • 31
by the o m n i s c i e n t author." The method is more c o p i o u s l y

employed by bo t h V ir ginia Uoolf and D or ot h y R i c h a r d s o n t h a n

by 3oyca b e c a u s e in their use of t h e indirect i n t e r i o r mono­

logue f r e q u e n t l y there is the c h a r a c te r l e f t alone after

the a u t h o r ' s own comment and explanation, during which p e r i o d

erlebte R e d e occurs provided that o th er c on d i t i o n s prevail

favourably .

Soliloquy^

In o rd er to represent the p s y c hi c reality of c h a r a c t e r s

the s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s novelists had r a n s a c k e d the house

of t r a d i t i o n a l fiction and having found it barren of raw

material their search continued in other literary forms to

facilitate them w i t h other t e c h n i q u e s . No w o n d e r , from drama

they borrowed a t e c h n i q u e s t r a i g h t , that is, soliloquy, a

p opular d r a m a t i c technique from t h e time of S h a k e s p e a r e . T he

new n ove l as an art for m keeps all doors open t o a l l pheno­

menon changes accepting the best s u i t a b l e method of p r e s e n t i n g

“^ K e i t h Leopold, oPoC i t . , p«l48.

 72

the i n n e r r e a l i t y of mind. And s o l i l o q u y in the new c on te x t

is employed to capture nt h e psychic c on te nt a nd p ro ce ss es

of a c h a r a c t e r directly from c h a r a c t e r to r e a d e r without the

presence of a n author, but with one a u d i e n c e tacitly assumed.”^2

It may not be out of place h ere to r e c a l l how s o l i l o q u y

has been u se d in the drama. Apparently it is employed to

depict t h e c h a r a c t e r ' s disturbed mental behaviour, but its

structure is more logical and c o h e r e n t , and a b o v e all, it

helps the d e v e l o p m e n t of the plot reach a c l i m a x . Hamlet's

Bad speeches and Lady Macbeth's sleep-walking speeches, for

instance, are best soliloquies exquisitely displaying their

troubled c o n s c i e n c e rather t ha n t h e s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s .

By its v e r y s t r u c t u r e its function in the s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s ­

ness novel is not to render the i n c h o a t e and a b e r r a n t c o ur s e

of mind o t he r than the ” preverbal t h i n k i n g ” of the character

with normal s y n t a x and punctuation. Therefore, soliloquies

are not "capable of c o n v e y i n g , 1* s a y s Dohn S p e n c e r , " t o the

reader the inchoateness and i nt e r ra i t t a n t irrelevance of many

states of c o n s c i o u s n e s s , or of m i r r o r i n g the s i m u l t a n i e t y of
33
reaction b etw ee n external c i r c u m s t a n c e and i n w a r d r e f l e c t i o n ”

^ Soliloquies, as a literary technique, appeared a f t e r

1920s, and in on ly t wo s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s novels this

technique is f o u nd being employed w it h r e m a r k a b l e s uc ce ss .

fto
Humphrey, op .cit., p«36.

7 *7
Dohn Sp en ce r , op«cit«, p . 33.
 73

Virginia Woolf's I jh eJ J av e s (1931) and F a u l k n e r ' s As I Lav

P./ i n q ( 1 9 3 0 ) . It is evident that the s tr ea m-o f —c o n s c i o u s ­

ne ss novel is m a r ke d by n e wn e s s and v a r i e t y ; e ac h novel

is an e x e r c i s e in bold experimentation. The medium to

represent the flux abounding is not one and only on e, but

varied and fresh. T h e c r i t i c *s interest is not in why

the method is ever employed but how i t is u s ed in a new

and d i f f e r e n t way from the o l d and familiar. The fo llo w in g

is an excerpt from As I Lay D y i n g i n which D a r i , one of

the f i f t e e n characters in t he novel, feels unable to empty

himself in a strange room a f t e r the completion o f the

coffin of Addie Bundren, who i s d yi n g and a b o u t whose

bu r ia l people are making p r e p a r a ti o n s ;

I n a s t r a n g e room you must empty y o u r s e l f for

s l e e p . And b e f o r e you a r e emptied f o r s l e e p , what
are y o u . And when you a r e emptied f o r s l e e p , you
are n o t . And when you a r e f i l l e d w i t h s l e e p , you
n e v e r w e r e . I d o n ' t know what I am. I d o n ' t know
I f I am or n o t . J e w e l knows he i s , b e c a u s e he does
not know t h a t he does not know w he the r h e is or
n o t . He c a n n o t empty h i m s e l f for s l e e p be ca us e he
is not what he is and he is what he is n o t . Beyond
t he u nl a mp e d w a l l I can h e a r the r a i n s h a p i n g the
wagon t h a t is o u r s , t h e lo ad that is no lon ge r
t h e i r s t h a t f e l l e d and s aw ed i t nor yet t h e i r s
t h a t b o u g h t i t and w h i c h is not ours e i t h e r , l i e
on o u r wagon tho u gh i t d o e s , s i n c e o n l y t he wind
and t he r a i n s h a p e i t o n l y t o Jewel a nd me, t h a t
a re not a s l e e p . And s i n c e s l e e p is i s - n ot and r a i n
and wind a r e u a s » i t is n o t . Yet the wagon i s .
b e c a u s e when t h e wagon is w a s , A d d i e Bundren w i l l
not b e 0 And J e w e l is_, s o Addle Bundren must b e.
And t h e n I must b e , or I c o u l d not empty myself
f o r s l e e p i n a s t r a n g e room. And so i f I am not
emptied y e t , I am i s . 3 4

3 4 W i l l i a m F a u l k n e r , As I Lay Plying ( Harmondsworth,

M i d d l e s e x I P e n g u i n Books r p t . 1 9 8 1 ) , p . 6 5 .
 7^

This soliloquy neatly fulfils the requirements of a

soliloquy from t h e angle of the stream-of-consciousness novel.

There is no a u t h o r intervention; everything is rendered from

the c h a r a c t e r ' s mind bu t t h e presence of one i n v i s i b l e and

silent audience is felt. G r e a t e r c o h e r e nc e in texture and

s t y l e is maintained thro u gh the i di om of t h e c h a r a c t e r , the

fluidity of w h i c h little shows the division and discontinuity

in the t h o u g h t process of t h e c h a r a c t e r , u n l i k e as in the

interior monologue, because D a r i ' s mind is interrupted by t he

external world.

To illustrate further h e re is an e x c e r p t from The

Waves :

” \Je d i f f e r , i t may be t o o p r o f o u n d l y , ” s a i d L o u i s ,
" f o r e x p l a n a t i o n . But l e t us attempt i t . I smoothed
my h a i r wha n I came i n , h o p i n g to look l i k e t he r e s t
of y o u . But I c a n n o t , f o r I am not s i n g l e and e n t i r e
a s you a r e . I have l i v e d a t h o u s an d l i v e s a l r e a d y .
Ev er y day I u n b u r y - I d i g u p . I f i n d r e l i c s of
m y s e l f i n t h e s a n d t h a t women made t h o u s a n d s of y ears
a g o , when I h e a r d songs by t he N i l e and t h e c h a i n e d
b e a s t s t a m p i n g . Uh at you s e e b e s i d e y o u , t h i s man,
t h i s L o u i s , i s o n l y t h e c i n d e r s and r e f u s e of some­
t h i n g o n c e s p l e n d i d . I was an Arab p r i n c e ; behold
my f r e e g e s t u r e s . I was a g re at poet in t h e time of
E l i z a b e t h . I was a D u k e at t he court of L o ui s the
F o u r t e e n t h . I am v e r y v a i n , v e r y c o n f i d e n t ; I have
an i m m e a s u r a b l e d e s i r e t h a t women s h o u l d s i g h in
s y m p a t h y . I h a v e e a t e n no l u n c h t o —day i n or de r t h a t
S u s a n may t h i n k me c a d a v e r o u s and t ha t 3 i n n y may
e x t e n d to me t h e e x q u i s i t e balm of her s y m p a t h y . . . .-5b

J The soliloquy shows how t h e n o v e l i s t tries to represent

the c h a r a c t e r ' s psyche nearest t h e conscieus or s p e e c h l e v e l

3 5 V i r g i n i a W o o l f , T he Waves ( L o n do n : T h e Hogarth
Press, rp t., 1960), p .91.
 75

from t he point of view of Louis. In other w ords, the s y n t a x

is more f o r m a l and coherent than that of i n t e r i o r mono lo gu e.

The c h a r a c t e r s emotions and me n t a l fluctuations a r e commu­

nicat ed d i r e c t l y f r om the character to the r e a d e r w i th ou t

the i n t e r v e n t i o n of the author* But as usual, the soliloquy

i nd ic a te s the c haracter's awareness of the p r e s e n c e of some

characters or an audience, as he often addresses in an e f f o r t

to show h is relation to t he surrounding.

Soliloquy, in this way, is best s u i t a b l e as a method

of p r e s e n t i n g Ma s u c c e s s f u l combination of i n t e r i o r stream-
36
o f-c on sc io us ne ss with external actio n .w In o t he r w o r d s ,

this is an example of how the s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s nove­

lists have t r i e d to revitalize the co n ven tio n al literary

methods f o r a redefinition of the conceptions of fiction.

/
Omniscient description

One of the oldest n a r r a t i v e techniques in fiction is

the o m n i s c i e n t author description and it finds a respectable

place in t h e s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s n o ve l as well. In t h i s

method a t h i r d person n a r r a t o r — may be t r u l y , the author

o mnis cient — presents the character from the focal point of

vie w of t h e a u t h o r . Dorothy Richardson, among t h e stream-

of-consciousness novelists is the one who can u se this

technique c o n s i s t e n t l y in t h e t w s l v e —volume P i l q r i m a q e to

Humphrey, op.cit., p . 38
 76
photograph s m o o t h l y the inner feelings of t he me nt al life of

Miriam H e n d e r s o n in its independent and u ns p ok en s t a t e of

p re c o n s c i o u s level of mind. Throughout t he novel Miriam is

seen t h r ou gh the a uthor's point of v i e w . Mere i s a p a r ag r ap h

from P o i n t e d R o o f s that shows M i r i a m ’ s s t re a m- o f—c o n s c i o u s n e s s ,

just before her departure for G e r ma ny , but t h r o u g h the a u t h o r ' s

oraniscient d e s c r i p t i o n of the heroine's feelings :

Her new S a r a t o g a t r u n k s t o o d s o l i d and gle amin g

i n t h e f i r e - l i g h t . To-morrow i t would be t a k e n away
and s h e w o u l d be g o n e . T h e room would be a l t o g e t h e r
H a r r i e t t ' s . I t w ou ld n e v e r h av e i t s old look a g a i n .
She e v a d e d t h e t h o u g h t a nd moved to t h e n e a r e s t
w i n d ow * T h e o u t l i n e of t he round bed a n d t h e sha pe s
of t h e may - t r e e s on e i t h e r s i d e of t h e bend of t h e
d r i v e w e r e j u s t v i s i b l e . T h e r e was no e s c a p e for her
t h o u g h t s i n t h i s d i r e c t i o n . The s e n s e of a l l s h e was
l e a v i n g s t i r r e d u n c o n t r o l l a b l y as s h e s t o o d l o o k i n g
down i n t o t h e w e l l - kn o wn g a r d e n . 37

A careful examination of this p a s s a g e shows that it is not

Miriam who s p e a k s but on her behalf a narrator is projecting

her i n n er mind in association w i t h t h e images of t h e e x t e r n a l

reality.

Virginia Uoolf also achieves a great deal of l y r i c a l

and p o e t i c v e i n with closely a s s o c i a t e d symbolic gestures,

c omb in a ti on s of v a r i o u s juxtaposing states, e x t e n d e d meta­

phors by t h e u se of omniscient narrator, but in an unusual

way. One c an s e e as D a v i d Neal Miller has pointed out the

narrator's role to link the r e l a t i o n s h i p and insight between

3 7 D o r o t h y M. R i c h a r d s o n , P i l g r i m a ge V o l I (London :
3 . M . D e n t and S o n s L t d . 1 s t e d . , 1 9 6 7 ) , p . 1 5 .
 77

Clarissa and S e p t i m u s , of which they t h e m se l v es are ignorant.

He says V i r g i n i a Woolf

does not s i m p l y i d e n t i f y S e p t im us and C l a r i s s a , but

r a t h e r e s t a b l i s h e s t h e i r i n s i g h t as t h e a u t h o r i a l
p o i n t of v i e w ’ b e h i n d t h e b a c ks * of t h e s e l e c t e d
c o n s c i o u s n e s s e s ; d i m e n s i o n s of w hic h t h e c h a r a c t e r s
are i g n o r a n t a r e t h u s r e s e r v e d by t h e n a r r a t o r
f or d i r e c t c o m m u n i c a t i o n w i t h the r e a d e r . 3 8

Lika t h i s at critical moments it is not t h r o u gh t h e c h a r a c t e r

that the r e a d e r is communicated with the i d e n t i t y of r e a l i t y

but through t h e narrator - the omniscient narrator. [Towards

the end of T o the Lighthouse Dames r e a l i z e s that t he l i g h t ­

house that s t a n d s before him i n s o l i d rock Us t a r k -and s t r a i o h t "

is quite d i f f e r e n t f r om t h e one he had s e e n t e n years ago

through t h e window on t h e s h o r e . This v i s i o n of r e a l i t y is

conveyed by t h e author in h er role of omniscient narrator to

the r e a de r t h r o u g h D a n e s ’ s c onscjjana-neas-j—srhixrh is controlled

by the n a r r a t o r . _____

Th us the function of t h e old-fashioned omniscience of

the a ut hor is r ev o lu tio n ized such as t o cope w i t h t he r e q u i r e -

nants of e x p e r i m e n t a t i o n i n t h e s t r e a m —of—c o n s c i o u s n e s s fiction.

Uith t he help of it the novelist not only is a b l e to represent

"the p s y ch i c content and processes of a c h a r a c t e r in which

39
an o mn is c ie n t author describes that psyche** but is a l so

3 8 Q y o t e d ^ C h a r l e s S c h u g , T h e Romantic G e n e s i s of the
Modern Novel ( P i t t s b u r g h : U n i v e r s i t y of P i t t s b u r g h P r e s s ,
c. 1979), p . 192.

“^ H u m p h r e y , o p.cit., p .33.
 78

able to c o n v e y her v i s i o n of reality t o the reader without

even making t h e characters very conscious of it.

Montage

Mo n ta g e is originally a cinematic device to evoke t h e

various perspectives of the characters in photography art as

contr as te d u i t h the single photograph d e v i c e . Sergei Eisen-

s t ei n, the f a mo us film director, introduced Mm o n t a g e M and

" partial representation” into film Mt o© jo k e from t he v i e u e r

the same f l o w of consciousness occurring in the mind of the

artist or one of the f i l » , s characters Indeed, Eisenstein’s

film t e c h n i q u e seems to h av e g r e a t l y influenced t h e contem­

porary s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s fiction, in u h i c h t h e primary

emphasis falls on t h e presentation of the flou of human mind

in its v a r i o u s courses, intermingling images of the past,

present a nd future, and ideas thickly or t h i n l y textured

showing t h e i r symbolic relationship at v a r i o u s conscious

control l e v e l s . Its literal function, as R o b e r t Humphrey

ma i n t a i n s , is "to show interrelation or a s s o c i a t i o n of i d e a s ,

such as rapid succession of images or the s u p e r i m p o s i t i o n of

image on image or t h e surrounding of a f o c a l image by r e l a t e d

^ °K e n n e t h S . Pope & Jerome L. S in g e r , "I n t r o d u c t io n :

The Fl ow of Human E x p e r i e n c e , ** T h e Stream of C o n s c i o u s n e s s :
S c i e n t i f i c I n v / e s t i o a t i o n s and t h e Floui of Human_E_xger_ioncj|»
p«3.

^Humphrey, o p .c it ., p .49.
 79

Montage, thus, is essentially a fictional device to

break auay f rom the traditional narrative based on the sequence

of time or p l o t . Dames Joyce’s (Jlysses is a fully developed

novel to c o n f o r m to the device of mo nt ag e. It is interesting

to note t h a t influenced by t h e art of m o v i e - p i c t u r e J oy c e

t r i e d to introduce the first motion picture theatre in Ireland.

However, though that ended in a f a i l u r e , Joyce gained consi­

derably from the attempt and the result is U l y s s e s . The book

is based on f i l m technique, in its display of images i n the

c h a r ac t er c o n s c i o u s n e s s w i t h a many-sided photographic angle

AO
that a g a i n fo r ms a ” composite p erspective,” and in its

arra ng eme nt of continuous flow of episodes that happen in

duration. Here Harry Levin has a point :

In i t s i n t i m a c y and i n i t s c o n t i n u i t y , U l y s s e s has
more i n common w i t h t h e c i n e ma t ha n w i t h other f i c t i o n .
T h e movement o f J o y c e ' s s t y l e , the t h o u g h t of his
c r e a t u r e s , is l i k e u n r e e l i n g f i l m ; his method of
c o n s t r u c t i o n , t h e a r r a n g e m e n t of t h i s raw m a t e r i a l ,
i n v o l v e s t h e c r u c i a l o p e r a t i o n of m o n t a g e . ^

Indeed, the application of montage t o Ulysses is c learly

shown by t h e fact that the book, h a v i n g 783 pages, is a r e c o rd

of one d a y ' s happenings, 16 J u n e , 1904, from 8 a . m . in the

morning t o 3 a.m . of the next day, i n t he lives of t hr e e

characters, Leopold Bl oom, S tep h e n Dedalus and Mo l ly Bloom0

* 2 Alen S p i e g e l , F i c t i o n a nd t h e Camera Eye : V i s u a l

C o ns c io u sn es s i n Filro and t h e M ode rn Novel ( C h a r i o t t s s v i l l e s
U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s of V i r g i n i a c . 1 9 7 6 ) , p . 1 6 4 *

4 3 Harry L e v i n , “ M o n t a g e ” i n John Ua ts on Aldridge(ed),

C r i t i q u e s and ELssays on M od er n F i c t i o n 1 9 2 0 —1 9 51 (Neu York J
The R o na l d P r e s s Compa ny , 1 9 5 2 ) , p p . 1 4 3 - 4 4 .
 80
But in its deep s t r u c t u r e the book c omp ri se s all r e c or ds of

history of a l l the cities of the w or l d and of the universe

transcending all barriers of time and s p a c e . To quote 3 o y c e

himself : ” If I can get to the heart of D u b l i n , I c an get to

the heart of all cities of the world. In t he particular is

contained the u n i v e r s a l . " 44 The whole book is full of the

cinematic devices; fade ins, fade outs, flash backs, slow-ups,

multiple v i e w s . The present D u blin day of both Bloom and

Stephen is haunted by t h e memory of t he past that breaks the

logical development of the book's plot. Fragmentary and

heteregenous ideas are skilfully juxtaposed t o get the effect

of m o n t a g e .

Now J o y c e ' s method appears to have p ro ve d v e r y influen­

tial in the mind of his contemporary experimentors. Virginia

Uoolf's firs D a l l o w a y . like Ulysses . is based on t h e e pi s o d e s

of a s i n g l e day in the conventional chronological sense, but

an examination of a further step would reveal that what is

significant is the existence of inviolable p as t against w hi ch

all the histories of t h e major characters, Clarissa Dalloway,

Peter Ualsh, Septimus Uarren Smith, Rezia, Sally Seton etc.,

are r e f l e c t e d with a vivid photographic reality. A reading

of the book e v ok e s an analogy that t he m i n d ’ s eye like a

camera eye t u r n s to the s n ap - s h o t like images of t h e c h a r a c ­

t e r ’ s mental movement t ha t complies with d u r a t i o n a l f lu x«

* 4 U i l l i a m Yo rk T i n d a l l , A R e a d e r ’ s G u i d e t o James
3 oyce (L on do n • Themes and H u d s o n , 1 9 6 8 ) , p . 73#
 M o nt ag e may be d i v i d e d i n t o two k i n ds j t i m e montage

and s p a c e montage. Time mo nt ag e is t he one t h a t allows the

wind to go in time backward and forward without intelligible

reasons whatever, while the character r emains fixed at a

point of s p a c e . S p a c e m o n t a g e , on t h e o ther h a n d , is the u s e

ofsome s p a t i a l object to d r a w t h e c h a r a c t e r 1s mind fixed

upon i t while time remains static. David Daiches in The

Novel and the Modern World has aptly o bs e r v e d on t h i s dis­

tinction in almost similar terms :

We e i t h e r s t a n d s t i l l i n t i m e and are led t o contem­

p l a t e d i v e r s e but c o n t e m po r an e ou s e ve nt s i n s p a c e or
we s t a n d s t i l l i n s p a c e and a r e a l l o w e d t o move up
a n d down t e m p o r a l l y i n t h e c o n s c i o u s n e s s of one
in d iv id u a l.^5

Of t h e t w o , time montage is legion i n t he s t re a m- o f- c on s ­

ciousness novel as discussed above. Space mon tag e is d e v e ­

loped w it h remarkable success by 3 o y c e and V i r g i n i a Woolf

in U l y s s e s and Mrs D a l l o u a y respectively. The appearance

of the v i c e r e g a l cavaleade in t h e "wandering rock" section

of Ulysses amply s ho ws how t he novelist tries to record

t he c o —e x i s t e n c e of v a r i o u s consciousnesses of v a r i o u s

characters at a particular point of t i m e . At first the

viceregal cavaleade is seen passing out of P a r k gate,greeted

by o b s e q u i o u s policemen; then, along Pembroke quay near Mr

Kernan it proceeds; further it dashes along Paliament street

45D a v i d D a i c h e s , The Nov el and the Modern World

(revised e d . ) , p .2 0 3 «
 82
causing s u r p r i s e t o a l l who " t u r n e d where they s to od * inclading

Martin Cunningham and 3ohn Uyse N ol an, who answers CunniRgham

nThe Lord l i e u t e n a n t general and general governor of Ireland?*®

The c a v a l e a d e c o n t i n u e s to proceed along the s t r e e t s , made

v i s i b l e to m u l t i t u d e s from place to place e i t h e r at close

range or from a f a r but a t t r a c t i n g all impressions upon i t , a s

if it were on the s c r e e n of a mov ie -p ic tur e. A s i m i l a r method

is the a p p e a r a n c e of a car and an aeroplane in Wrs D a l l o w a y .

Thus, time and s p a c e montage serves to repr es en t the

basic p r i n c i p l e s of the m a ni f e s t a t i o n s of the c h a r a c t e r s

psychic r e a l i t y , on the one hand, and it s u b s t i t u t e s the

plot, on t he other.

Other u n i f y i n o patterns and dev ic es

Of other literary t e chn iq ue s e xploited v a r i o u s l y by

the stream-of-conscious ness n o ve l i s t s for a r t i s t i c uni ties

and c on tr ol over t h e irrational psychic r e a l i t y the following

patterns and d e v i c e s may be taken into a cc ou nt. They may

in clude (l) the principles of uni ty of time, place, action

and c h a r a c t e r , m us i c a l leitmotifs, archetypal images of the

cycle of b i r t h , death, rebirth, and change of s eas on and

t i d e and of d a i l y phenomena of s u n r i s e , sunset, and in di re c t

suggestions of some u n i f i e d p at te rns ©f myth, and the concept

of some journey s y m b o l i c a l l y s u g g e s t i n g a b e g i n n i n g , a

middle and an end and above a l l literary paredies, and

*®3oyce, lilysses , p . 248

(2) diary form, verse, rhetorical devices etc. respectively.

Th e c o n c e p t of the unities has already be en a s s o c i a t e d

with t h e t r a d i t i o n a l fo r ms of literature, especially drama.

And l i k e any other form of literature where t h e c o n c e p t s of

time, place and action are observed, t h e s t r e a m —o f —c o n s c i o u s ­

ness novel t o o makes use of these unities for designing the

dream—l i k e e no rmo us turns and corners of psychic activity.

Being itself far more a n imaginative wot** of art t h a n the

traditional novel, the stream-of-consciousness novel, below

ghat is seen in its structure, seeks a symbolic framework by

the a p p l i c a t i o n of o ne unity or a n o t h e r . Th at controls t he

see min g boundlessness of human c o n s c i o u s n e s s to restore a

unique c l a s s i c a l order of a rt.^T h e o ft -me n ti on e d diurnal

structure of Ulysses and firs D a l l o w a y and c o n f i n e m e n t of t h e

characters and places of action t o D u b l i n and London d e s p i t e

sporadic accounts of or references to some c i t i e s and

countries outside Ireland and E n g l a n d r e s p e c t i v e l y show how

3 oy ce and V i r g i n i a Uoolf have t r i e d to impose the unities

of time and place with utmost skill against a background of

fluid mental experience. That is also fundamental in a work

of a r t , in a l l its aspects,but surely in keeping with

credibility or c o n v i n c i n g n e s s or w i t h i n the r e a c h of i m a g i ­

native probability.

Faulkner, in his As I Lay D y i n g and t o a s i g n i f i c a n t

extent in The Sound and t h e F ur y c a n m a i n ta i n the unity of

a c t i o n as t hey are more c o n c e r n e d w i t h what happens in t he

external world. But as for The S o un d and t h e F u r v one f a c t

remains that the more one t r i e s to r e a c h any c o n c r e t e ba si s

the greater is one's inability to do s o . However, it is

clear that in both these novels there is a substantial p l ot

and t he a c t i o n of t h e characters commands more or l e s s t he

basic traditional characteristics of b ei ng e x t e r n a l : a

beginning, a middle and an end. About the unity of charac­

ter none seems as clear and consistent as D o r o t h y Richardson

in P i l o r i m a g e which is a l on g and t h o r o ug h psychological

exploration of one particular character, Miriam Henderson,

t hr ou gh whose mental drama the inner world of t h e n o ve l is

represented from t h e beginning to t he end. Everywhere it

is M i r i a m ' s and not a ny o th er c h a r a c t e r ' s mind that is

rendered by t h e omniscient author* It is the unity of

character one gathers continuously as one g ets involved in

t he n ov e 1 .

A popular Wagnerian musical c on ce p t that is also

employed as a basic form of c o n t r o l l i n g the movement of

character consciousness in the stream-of-consciousness novel

is leitmotif. In t h e stream-of-consciousness n ove l the

novelist in order to g et a musical effect does arrange

certain images, words or p h ra se s to a p p e a r and r eap p ea r at

intervals rhythmically, supporting and r e i n f o r c i n g the s t r u c ­

ture of t h e n o v e l * As a literary technique its function is

to i n s i s t on t h e r e p l a c e m e n t of a sequential structure by

a systematic illogical organization t h a t forms a composite

art within the boundaries of leitmotifs. By t h e use of a

rhythmic repetition of leitm otifs t h e s tre am-o f-c on sci ous -

nass novelist "is no t allowed to drive us t o d i s t r a c t i o n . " 4 *^

nor is leitm o tif's function a mere r e p e t i t i o n of s t o c k

phrases as it "creates a c o h e r e n c e and unity in seemingly

AQ
disconnected c h ao s.”

3oyce, in order to unify theme and s u b j e c t - m a t t e r ,

uses more t h a n 1 50 motifs (depending on U i l l i a m Blissets

counting) but the most notable ones are the ” p o t a t o ” image

and "Agenbite of inwit" in the minds of Bloom and S t e p h e n

respectively, suggesting the gradual awareness of the c h a r a c ­

ters or at least the indicating d e v e l o pm en t of the novel's

movement itself is but w i t h i n one e ch o s y s t e m . Similarly in

A Portrait a ” bird," a"co w ," "w ater," "flow er," "flight" etc.

come up in t h e book w i t h symbolic maturation of Stephen

49
Q e d a l us from t h e beginning to the end.

In V i r g i n i a U o o lf's stream-of-consciousness novels

motifs like the lighthouse, sea, waves, stars, storms, sun­

set, flowers, pocket knife and needle regulate t he dynamic

process of c h a r a c t e r ' s consciousness. And t h e i r imp o rt an c e

is s o s t r e s s e d that some of t h e s e form a b a s i c structural

f o r mu l a of t h e novels and some s u g g e s t t he me n t a l and

A1
Robert Liddell, Soma P r i n c i p l e s of F i c t i o n , p .78,,

L i i s a D a h l , " T h e S t r e a m - o f - C o n s c i o u s n e s s T ec hni qu e
of 3 o y c e , U o o l f , and O ' N e i l l , " S t e i n b e r g ( e d ) , o p . c i t . . p . 1 6 8 .

49T i n d a l l , A Reader's G u i d e t o James J o y c e . p p . 8 7 - 93 .

 86

emotional a t t i t u d e s of the characters. The l i g h t h o u s e m ot if

in To_ t h e _ _ L i g h t h o u s e binds together various levels of c o n s ­

cious ness of v ario u s characters and it once wore c o r e l a t e s

t h s ^ u h o l e s t r u c t u r e^ o f the novel w it h t h e n a t u r e of r e a l i t y

at s u b t l e r Lav-eTs'.

In the presentation of what people usually think the

chaotic mental phenomenon, t h e s t r e a m - o f —c o n s c i o u s n e s s

novelist is seriously concerned with a meaningful represen­

t at ion of life as an archetypal s ymbol of t he cycle of birth,

death and marriage and the rhythmic c ha n g e of seasons corres­

ponds to human existence. The q ue st myth is also frequently

suggested as a form or pattern of art. The death of Dignara

in t h e opening of Ulyssas is followed by a b i r t h of a c h i l d

later on, fulfilling a cycle of d e a t h and birth that g iv es

a coherent life aspect. f Th e theme of life, d e a t h and r e s u ­

rrection is again symbolized i n To t h e Lighthouse. And in

Hrs P a l l o u a y life in d e a t h or death in l i f e theme is

emphasized. Again for lack of substantial plot in The Waves,

the picture of daily change of t h e sun i n the s k y and of t h e

waves in the sea has effected a convincing compensation,

and has revealed and imposed a meaning by way of contrast

between t h e v i v i d n e s s of the natural phenomenon and the

nebulous life of the six characters in t he n o v e l .

In order to i mp o s e u n i t y on t h e rather illogical

f r agm en ta ry and disjointed parts of t h e s t re a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s ­

ness n o v e l , t he novelists u s e some j o u r n e y images implicitely

 87

or e x p l i c i t e l y . In To the Lighthouse Virginia W o o l f makes

all c haracters concerned with a journey. In f a c t , t he n ove l

opens with a proposal to §o to the lighthouse as t he t i t l e

also s u g g e s t s . Through it s y m b o l i c a l l y the characters a re

in quest of the weaning of r e a l i t y . In the end t h e r e is the

actual journey; and the actual landing at t h e lighthouse not

only ends the long postponed proposal but a l s o dissolves the

differences between the characters a n d the a t t a i n m e n t of

harmony bo t h in texture and in structure, because w i t h t he

compl et ion of the journey order is restored : L ily 's insoluble

problem of painting is solved; Dames *s h a t r ed of his father

is r e p l a c e d by love and s y mp a t h y and v i c e v e r s a . , The u n d e r­

l ying i m p l i c a t i o n is a strong symbolic suggestion of a

classical pattern of art with a beginning, a m i d d l e and an

end.. I n more or less t h e same way in D o y c e ' s Ulysses a

j ourney i ma ge as a parody of H o m e r ' s T he O dy s se y is de e pl y

suggested. The journey of Leopold Bloom and S t e p h e n is the

j ou r ne y as s e e n in the epic of Ho me r. T he modern w r i t e r s in

their search for form in literature, w hic h e x t e r n a l l y c e n t r e s

round t he c o n t e m p o r a r y chaotic experience, often go t o the

heroic age of a n c i e n t past, mythical, legendary or an i m a g i ­

nary world of order, faith and religion, which they use as

symbols and patterns. Doyce's and E l i o t ' s commitment to a

faith in the a n c i e n t myths and rituals as projected in

U l ys se s and T h e W a s t e Land r e s p e c t i v e l y as a s o u r c e of t h e i r

faith is m e a n i n g f u l l y juxtaposed against and compared to

Ba d i a r y , remarks William Y. Tindall **is c e r t a i n l y a for a

for s u g g e s t i n g egocentricity. A man i n l o ve w i t h himself

keeps a d ia ry .” This technique suits Joyce’ s p ur po se of

representing one part of Stephen’ s personality for the latter

keeps himself aloof, alienated in his proud i s o l a t i o n from

others and fr om uhat he c a n n o t belong t o . The technique is

exceedingly successful.

Verse technique is also frequently used by 3oyce and

Virginia Uoolf in representing the emotional quality of t h e

characters in their s t r e a m —o f —c o n s c i o u s n e s s novels. I t t en d s

to s t a t e the tense emotional s t a t e in some o b j e c t i v e terms

equivalent to Eliot’ s no b j e c t i v e corelative However, verse

itself is highly formal, and it adheres to Ma s p e c i f i c form

51
of l o g i c a l o r d e r i n g * 1 and to a s p e c i f i c "su bject.n It f a l l s

short of evoking the illogical and distorted thought of t he

character. L ac k of a subtle focusing p o i n t a l s o seems

inherent in t h i s technique. Hence the overall p ur po s e of

the s t r e a m — o f —c onsc i o u s ness novel is not f u l l y in compliance

gith verse form.

These a r e some of the ma j o r t e c h n i q u e s employed by

the s t r e a m - o f -consciousness novelists t o c o nv ey t h e modern

consciousness. Yet some of t h e methods of r e p r e s e n t i n g t he

inner reality or t h e original state of mind t o w h i c h the

50T i n d a l l , o p .c it., p .69.

51
Humphrey, o p »c i t . , p p . 4 0 —4 1 .
 90

novelists have taken recourse are the S y m b o l i s t , the Ima gis t

and t he impressionist methods. T h e s e methods h av e given a

linguistic equivalent of the dre amy and s u b j e c t i v e mind of

characters in a modern novel.

A symbol, in this new c o n t e x t , is a c o n c r e t e raanifes-

t at i on of an idea, which may be v a g u e , subtle or comp l e x , and

is t r e a t e d as a t e c hnique in modern l i t e r a t u r e . I n t h e stream-

of-consciousness fiction symbols a r e employed to s u g g e s t some

hidden i d e a or ideas that does or do not have any b ea ri n g on

logical conclusion. As r e g a r ds its func tio n , it is a means

of e x p l o r i n g or s h o w i n g the i nternal activity of m i n d .

At t h i s point, it may seem necessary to re fe r in some

d eta il to the French Symbolist Movement, which was f ou nd ed

by g re at men of letters like Mallarme^ Rimbaud, Paul Valery,

/
Remy de G o u r m o n t , Laforgue, Degas, Huysmans, Henry de R e g n i e r ,

Paul Claudel, Andre G i d e , Oscar Wilde, Arthur S ymo ns, Geor ge

Moore and U . B . Yeats between 1870 and 1890. They were a i m i n g

at r e v o l u t i o n i z i n g the French poetry against the Naturalists

and R e a l i s m of Balzac, Zola, Flaubert and Ma u p a s s a ut and t h e

l a s t R om an ti c traits of t h e nineteenth century, and at

uprooting the logic a nd clarity of the Fre nc h classical

t r a d i t i o n and F r e n c h metrics as well. Instead, they focused

on t he e v o c a t i o n of individual author's private feelings and

sensations, for which a new l a n g u a g e of poetry, capable of

expressing, as Lytton Strachey puts, t he “v a g u e n e s s and

dreaminess of individual moods and s p i r i t u a l fluctuations,

 91

to t urn i t £ poetry_7 a Way f r om d e f i n i t e fact and b ei ng it

53
near to m u s i c " was invented. Mallard, who i s considered

the prophet of the Symbolist poets, goes on e x p l a i n i n g symbo­

lism as a r e c a s t by E dmund Wilson :

E v e r y - f e e l i n g or s e n s a t i o n ue h a v e , e v e r y moment of
c o n s c i o u s n e s s , i s d i f f e r e n t from every o t h e r ; and i t
i s , i n c o n s e q u e n c e , i m p o s s i b l e to r e n d e r our s e n s a ­
t i o n s as ue a c t u a l l y e x p e r i e n c e them t h r o u g h the
c o n v e n t i o n a l a n d u n i v e r s a l l a n g u a g e of o r d i n a r y
literature. E a c h poe t has his u ni qu e p e r s o n a l i t y ;
e a c h of h i s moments has i t s s p e c i a l t o n e , i t s s p e c i a l
com bin atio n of e le m e n t s . And i t is t he p o e t ' s task
to f i n d , t o i n v e n t , t he s p e c i a l l a n g u a g e which w i l l
a l o n e be c a p a b l e of e x p r e s s i n g his p e r s o n a l i t y and
feelings. S u c h a l a n g u a g e must make u s e of symbols j
u h a t i s s o s p e c i a l , s o f l e e t i n g and s o v a g u e cannot
be c o n v e y e d by d i r e c t s t a t e m e n t or d e s c r i p t i o n , but
o n l y by a s u c c e s s i o n of w o r d s , o f i m a g e s , w hic h w i l l
s e r v e to s u g g e s t i t t o t h e r e a d e r . T h e S y m b o l is t s
t h e m s e l v e s , f u l l of t h e i d e a s of p r o d u c i n g with
p o e t r y e f f e c t s l i k e t h o s e of m u s i c , t e n d e d t o t hi n k
of t h e s e i m a g e s as p o s s e s s i n g a n a b s t r a c t v a l u e l i k e
m u s i c a l n o t a t i o n , and what t h e symbols of Symbolism
r e a l l y w e r e , w e r e me ta p ho rs d e t a c h e d from their
s u b j e c t s - f o r one c a n n o t , beyond a c e r t a i n p o i n t ,
i n p o e t r y , m e r e l y e n j o y c o l o r and sound f o r t h e i r
own s a k e : one has t o g u e s s what the images are
being a p p l i e d t o . And Symbolism may be d e f i n e d as
an a t t e m p t by c a r e f u l l y s t u d i e d means — a c o m p l i ­
c a t e d a s s o c i a t i o n of i d e a s r e p r e s e n t e d by a melody
of m e t a p h o r s — t o c o m m u n i c a t e u ni q u e p e r s o n a l
feelings .^3

The S y m b o l i s t poetry is, thus, characterized by

"suggestiveness , 'w illfu l impressionism,* subjectivity, dis­

r egar d for grammatical construction, and d e p e n d e n c e on the

5 2 Buckner B. T r a u i c k , W or ld L i t e r a t u r e : I t a l i a n ,
F r e n c h . S p a n i s h . G er ma n and R u s s i a n L i t e r a t u r e s i n c e ...1.30.0.,
v o l . I I (New York I B a r n e s a n d N o b l e , I n c . , r p t . 1 9 5 8 ) , p . l 3 3 .

5 3 Edmund W i l s o n , A x e l ' s C a s t l e : A S t u d y , i n t h e
I m a g i n a t i v e L i t e r a t u r e of 1 8 7 0 - 1 9 3 0 (New York : Charles
Scribner's S o ns , 1950) , p p . 21-22.
 92
tonal qualities of w ords."'*4 N a t u r a l l y s uc h a language is

c ap a b l e of expressing dreamy aspects of mind, which o the r­

wise would not have been represented as freely as it is by

the t r a d i t i o n a l language. Apparently its influence on a

number of mo de rn British writers like Elio t, 3oyce, Virginia

Uoolf, Dorothy Richardson was inevitable.

7 Symbolism, t hus, in a stream-of-consciousness novel

functions to repudiate a "narrative or d i s c o u r s e as tradition

demands" i n p r e f e r e n c e t o r e n d e r i n g s t a t e s of mind "b y i m ag e,

* - - ““ ' - 5

cn
pattern and r h y t h m , d e v i c e s one p e c u l i a r t o p o e t r y or m u s i c "

The p ro se rhy th m t h a t gives e x p r e s s i o n to these evocative

powers of p o e t r y h as a lyric tone and o f t e n comes c l o s e to

poetry as in the case of Virginia Woolf's novels. For t h i n g s

in her novels stand Qfttside t h e m s e l v e s and r e l a t e th em se l ve s

to t i m e , change, flux a nd eternity, - t he s u b j e c t matter of

the S y m b o l i s t p o e t r y . w^The l i g h t h o u s e symbol i n T o the Light­

house. the c him in g of the clock in Mrs D a l l o w a y , t h e s ea and

waves in The W a v e s . the pageant in Between t h e Acts s ta nd

for s o m e t h i n g beyond the meaning they ordinarily carry. In

or de r to make m e a n i n g of meaning or of m e t a p h o r i c a l meaning

her prose is not denotative, direct and t e r s e , but oblique,

suggestive and evocative.

^^Trawick, o p .cit., p . 133.

5 5T i n d a l l , o p.cit. , p .287.
 93

To meet the exigencies of t h e s tre am—o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s

novel Joyce e mp l o y s the personal abstract s ymbo ls and images

in t h e mode of the Symbolist poets with his individual

e mo ti on al energy, Ulysses is an extr eme form of this

symbolist experiment a nd F i n n e o a n s Wake is a culmination of

obscurity, everything on a s u g g e s t i v e level without knowing

u hat, where, how a n d why. Notably, Joyce s u c c e s s f u l l y

invents his own idiom of jargon. W i t h most of the r eaders

they play h i d e and seek, and they escape unless some p a t t e r n

isc o n s t r u c t e d as literary illusions, for w h i c h t h e reader

has t o g o t o the ancient myths, some t o t h e e a r l i e s t litera­

tures of the world. The total effect is poetry. Leon E d e l ,

thus, sums up :

. . . t h e n o v e l i s t s b e g i n as n a t u r a l i s t s or realists —
a n d en d as s y m b o l i s t s ! In t h e i r p u r s u i t o f shadowy,
d a n c i n g , f l o w i n g t h o u g h t t h e y in vo ke p ro s e - and
produce p o e t r y , ®

It is further conceivable that when V i r g i n i a Woolf emphasizes

the n o v e l i s t * s t as k to c a p t u r e "this varying, this unknown

and c i r c u m s c r i b e d spirit, whatever aberration or c o m p l e x i t y

it may d i s p l a y , with as little mixture of t h e alien and

external as p o s s i b l e " 57 she implicitly refers to symbolism.

Admittedly, the abundant and rich employment of

symbols i n t he m o d e r n f i c t i o n is a direct influence of the

5^ E d e l , o p.cit., p .123.

57V irgin ia Woolf, "Modern F i c t i o n , " op. c i t . , p.189.

 9k

French S y m b o lis t Movement. Symbolism is an inteqral part

of the language selection. Usually a symbol in t h e stream-

of-consciousness novel do e s no t assert a t r a d i t i o n a l value

as it is m ea nt to be a device for caoturing the e xa c t non­

verbal d r e a m —l i k e experience of t he force of c h a r a c t e r ’ s

«ind. In their search for the unspoken, fleeting and

evanescent thought their conviction to the symbolist render­

ing g r a d u a l l y b ec ome s affluent with the im p r e s s i o n is t pain­

ting method too.

Sim ilarly, imagery and f i g u r e s of s p e e c h render a

significant role in the presentation of t he inner conscious­

ness of the character in t h e stream-of-consciousness novel.

Perhaps the use of imagery in t h e experimental fiction is

to e x t e r n a l i z e vividly the inner reality of mind i n the

p rocess of discaYfcfi ng, exploring and d e v e l o p i n g the n o v e l i s t , s

subject, which is his experience. T he novelist who is u n d e r

the pressure of a faithful representation of human c o n s c i o u s ­

ness t r a n s l a t e s the state of p e r c e p t i v e mind in the most

concrete, visual a nd original form by t h e use of external

mode of e x p r e s s i o n . The technique includes (among o t h er s )

the impressionist m e th o d of depicting subjective or o b j e c t i v e

reality, dots, dashes, parentheses to suggest the p ri vacy

f a c t o r of mind in the most unconventional prose s t y l e .

Dorothy R i c h a r d s o n , Virginia Uoolf and Doyce were i n f l u e n c e d

by t h e I m a g i s t poets like E .E . Cummin gs , Hart Crane, All en

Tate, T .S . Eliot and W a l l a c e Stevens, who were again

I

95

influenced by the Impressionist and Post-Impressionist

painting methods. So t h e Imagist s t y l e and t h e impre­

ssionist method are closely related. The following e xc er pt

from Q o r o t h y R i c h a r d s o n ' s Honeycomb shows an i m p r e s s i o n i s t

method of r e n d e r i n g objective reality w it h t h e help of

images :

T h e W e st End s t r e e t . . . g r e y b u i l d i n g s r i s i n g on
e i t h e r s i d e , a n g l e s s h a r p a g a i n s t the s k y . . . s o f t e n e d
a n g l e s of b u i l d i n g s a g a i n s t o t he r b u i l d i n g s . . . h i g h
mo u l d e d a n g l e s s o f t as c r u m b , with de e p u nd ers hado ws
. . . c r e e p e r s f r a y i n g from b a l c o n i e s . . . s t r i p s of
window blossoms across the b u i l d i n g s , s c a r l e t , yellow,
h i g h u p ; a c o n f u s i o n of l a v e n d e r and w h i t e pouching
out a l o n g t h e d i p p i n g s i l l . . . a wash o f g r e e n
c r e e p e r up a w h i t e p a i n t e d h o u s e - f r o n t . . . p atches o f
s h a d o w and b r i g h t l i g h t • • • • Sounds of v i s i b l e ne ar
t h i n g s s t r e a k e d and s c o r e d w i t h broken l i g h t as t he y
moved, led o f f i n t o untraced d i s t a n t sounds . . .
chiming t o g e t h e r .
W i d e g o l d e n s t r e a m i n g R e g e n t S t r e e t was quite
near. Some n e a r nar ro w s t r e e t would l e a d i n t o i t .
F l a g s of pavement f l o w i n g - smooth c l e a n grey
s q u a r e s a nd o b l o n g s , f a i n t l y p o l i s h e d , s h a p i n g and
d r a w i n g a w a y — s l i d i n g i n t o each o the r . . . . I am
p a r t of t h e d e n s e smooth c l e a n p a v i n g s t o n e . . .
s u n l i t ; g l e a m i n g u nder d a r k w i n t e r r a i n , s e n d i n g
up a f r e s h s t o n y s m e l l . . . a lways t h e r e . . . dark
and l i g h t . . . d o w n , s t e a l i n g . . c58

In passages like t h e one quoted above it is obvious

that Dorothy R i c h a r d s o n is s t r o n g l y addicted to t h e impre­

ssionist method of depicting the landscape in her perfact

voice of an imagist. C o n t r a r y t o t he v i s i b l e picture of

5 8D o r o t h y M. R i c h a r d s o n , Pilgrimage v o l,. 1 ,
p .416.
physical impressions lie "symbols of u n s t a t e d e mo t i o n a l

attitudes'* and "patterns that give a strong i m p r e s s i o n of

intellectual abstraction"^ of the author. The kinship of

the impressionist painting method with t he imagist method

is shown in the depiction of the physical impressions of

t he s c e n e that correspond to t h e emotional s t a t e of the

mind o f t he novelist.

The impressionist painting, by v i r t u e of its method

of painting objects under different lighting conditions,

which have flooded the objects till they become c o m p l e t e l y

merged with the rest of t h e background or l a n d s c a p e , can

evoke t h e impression of simultaneous rendering of what is

seen, felt a nd heard suggesting the successive illuminations

that take place inside the mind. Once more d i f f e r e n t colours

have e v o k e d additional impressions.

The post-impressionist Exhibition, which was held in

London in 1910 under the auspicies of R og er F r y , brought t h e

new movement in the French art to the n o t i c e of the public.

T h er e were d i s p l a y e d the paintings of C a z a n n e , Van Gogh,

Matisse and P i c a s s o w h i c h marked a t u r n i n g point i n the

minds of t h e avant-garde experimentalists,, Virginia Woolf's

eventual comment "in or a b o u t D e c e m b e r , 1910, human c h a r a c t e r

c h a n g e d " 60 in her f a m o us essay "Mr Bennett and Mrs Brown"

5 9 3oseph Warren Beach, T w e n ti e t h Century Novel :

Studies in T e c h n i q u e , p , 3 9 9 .

6 0 V / i r g i n i a W o o l f , " M r Be nn et t and Mrs B r o w n , " The

C a p t a i n ' s D e a t h Bed and o t he r E s s a y s ( London S T he Hogarth
Press, 1 9 50 ), p . 9 1 o "
 97

shous the shift of literary interest from t h e impressionist

reproduction of sensations as reflected on t h e r e t i n a to t he

rendering of the mental image as evoked on t h e r e t i n a resul­

ting fro* the seeing of an object. T h e modern experimental

novelists were then acquainted uith Cezanne's "dynamic inner

rhythm" which was contrary to the "static character"*^ of

art, Van Gogh's m et ho d of transforming reality "d epending

on t h e a r t i s t ' s emotional s t a t e "^ ^ and P aul Gaugin's "fluid

rhythm of the arabesques" that blended h a r m o n i o u s l y with t he

C *7
"melody of the colour p lan es." These new i n s i g h t s into

reality and m e th o d of presenting the new r e a l i t y , were used

to c ope with the bold fictional experimentation in the

stream-of-consciousness novel.

In addition to it the Dada movement and t he Surrealist

method have also left a great im print on the stream-of-»concious-

ness novel. Dada, which was of Zurich origin, developed

during and before the First World W ar , a time when the world

uas faced with s i n i s t e r forces, horror, decay, futility and

disillusionment. Dada was, as Edward L uc i e -S mi t h puts "an

explosion of high spirits and defiance, a criticism of the

6 1 From n o t e s by I r e n e L i n n i k , W est er n E u r o p e a n P a i n t i n g
in the H er mi tao e ( L e n i n g r a d : A urora Art P u b s . , 1 9 8 4 ) , pl ate 1 3 4 .

^^Ibid. plate 135.

^3 I b i d « plate 138
stupidity of the uorld u h i c h u as nou c r um b l i n g into r u i n . " 64

Its impact on t h e m o d er n s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s n ove l is a

complete v i o l a t i o n of rules and reason imposed on a r t and

an a d v o c a c y of the freedom of the s p i r i t . Joyce's deliberate

break of s e n t e n c e s , combinations of uords to p ro du c e neu

s oun d effect, ungrammatical construction and eccentric

fusion of images as found in Ujysses and F i n n e g a n s Uaks a re

perhaps, the examples of D a d a i s t influence or t e c h n i q u e .

Similarly, the Surrealist method is also a revolt against

the accepted conventions and traditional morality i n an

att empt to capture the intimate psychic atmosphere uhose

state is dreamy, nebulous and non-linguistic.

Surely, these are some important techniques u hich

have b ee n ingeniously exploited in the stream-of-conscious­

ness novel. The special place this n eu novel occupies in

modern l i t e r a t u r e may b e t r u l y a t t r i b u t e d to the sincere and

faithful exploitation of these techniques. But t h e techniques

i n the s t r e a m - o f - c o n s c i o u s n e s s n o ve l s are not employed f or

the sake of the techniques uhich is t o say t h a t t he y are

not to be l o o k e d u p o n as an end in themselves. On t h e c on­

trary, a means to explore the a t t i t u d e of the novelist uith

u h i c h he l o o k s at life and t h r o u g h them one knous hou he

understands it. Therefore the novelist's deep a r t i s t i c

6 4 Eduard L u c i e - S m i t h , "T h e Other A r t , " C . B . Cox and

A . E . D y s o n ( e d s ) , T h e T u e n t i e t h C ent ur y Wind ( L o n d o n : OUP,
1972), p .497.
 99

s e n se or c o n v i c t i o n is incorporated into the te chniques hs

u s b s . Reality is one but illusive. Ordinary means of commu­

nication is but a p o or outfit to g a r b the infinite s ha pe of

reality. Therefore the novelist’s introduction of new

techniques such as interior monologue, soliloquy, o m n is c ie n t

description, time and space montage, patterns, symbols and

images is to represent the i n t i m a t e t hought of subjective

mind in t he most original form as far as possible. Even

though t h e purpose is more or l e s s t h e same, e ven two a ut hor s

do not necessarily use t h e same t e c h n i q u e s . The choice of

material is entirely b a s ed on p e r s o n a l factors and s p e c i f i c

or peculiar artistic requirements. The fact o f the matter

is that the choice of techniques is g o v e rn e d by a sense of

improvisation and by an a w a r e n e s s of the changing phenomenon

both i n t h e artistic w o r l d and i n t he wor ld t h a t s u rr o un ds

artists and their mind and a r t .