Connecting Point of View and Theme

Ultimately, the purpose of looking at a text for point of view and thinking about the effects of certain perspectives is to connect the author’s choice of point of view to a theme he or she is trying to create in the story. There are many tools that authors use to establish theme, including characterization, conflict, symbols, and so on, and point of view is an often-overlooked device.

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A Model Analysis

Look at the ending of the short story “Eveline,” by James Joyce. In this excerpt, Eveline is trying to decide whether she should leave home and travel with her boyfriend, Frank, to Argentina. Joyce has chosen to use a third person limited narration, in which the reader receives the inside thoughts of Eveline, but we are excluded from the inside thoughts of Frank.

She stood among the swaying crowd in the station at the North Wall. He held her hand and she knew that he was speaking to her, saying something about the passage over and over again. The station was full of soldiers with brown baggages. Through the wide doors of the sheds she caught a glimpse of the black mass of the boat, lying in beside the quay wall, with illumined portholes. She answered nothing. She felt her cheek pale and cold and, out of a maze of distress, she prayed to God to direct her, to show her what was her duty. The boat blew a long mournful whistle into the mist. If she went, tomorrow she would be on the sea with Frank, steaming towards Buenos Ayres. Their passage had been booked. Could she still draw back after all he had done for her? Her distress awoke a nausea in her body and she kept moving her lips in silent fervent prayer.

A bell clanged upon her heart. She felt him seize her hand:

“Come!”

All the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing her into them: he would drown her. She gripped with both hands at the iron railing.

“Come!”

No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy. Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish.

“Eveline! Evvy!”

He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was shouted at to go on but he still called to her. She set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign of love or farewell or recognition. (pars. 19–26)

Notice how the reader receives only Eveline’s perspective but is also held at some remove because of the third person point of view; it is not quite as intimate or personal as a first person perspective. Joyce keeps us focused on Eveline’s difficult decision, but we also get the whole scene of the water and the crowds that surround Eveline, as if we were watching a film. If Joyce had employed a third person omniscient narration, the reader would have also had Frank’s inside thoughts, which might have influenced the reader’s opinion of Eveline’s decision. As it stands, only one voice matters in this scene; only one decision is important. This is not an easy choice that Eveline has to make, and because Joyce limits us only to Eveline’s perspective, we could argue that he suggests life’s difficult decisions are ultimately all faced alone.

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ACTIVITY

Look at this excerpt from “Zolaria,” by Caitlin Horrocks, which recounts the day that the unnamed narrator and Hanna became friends. As you read, be sure to consider what level of intimacy and reliability the reader feels because of the first person narration.

In fifth grade Hanna and I doomed ourselves. On the second day of school we took out our folders, our pencil cases, organized our desks, and Hanna had space dolphins and I had pink unicorns. Two years ago all the girls had school supplies like these, and I don’t understand why they have abandoned the things they loved. Hanna and I were startled but not stupid, and if no one had noticed us that day we would both have begged our mothers to take us to K-Mart that night and exchange them. But it was too late. We were the girls with the wrong school supplies, and everything we did after that, even the things that were just like everyone else, were the wrong things to do. I will never tell Hanna that space dolphins aren’t really as bad as pink unicorns, and that she wasn’t really doomed until I made her my friend. (par. 11)

Read the following excerpt from later in the story, after Hanna has become sick. How does the first person narration assist Horrocks in making a point about the nature of friendship?

I will be unprepared for how long this sickness takes, for how long Hanna will be neither cured nor desperate. I will visit her once more at the hospital, twice more while she’s at home. I will realize I am waiting for her to be either well or dead. She will feel very far away. I will start junior high alone, and when Hanna comes for her first day, in late November, I will be startled to see her. Our morning classes must all be different because I recognize her for the first time at lunch, sitting by herself. I will already be sitting in the middle of a long table by the time I see her, my lunch unpacked in front of me. I will be pressed tight on either side by people who, if asked, would probably say I am their friend. Hanna will be wearing an awful wig, stiff and styled like an old woman’s perm. The hair will be dark brown, not black, and will no longer match her eyes. She will be pale and her face swollen and she will not seem like someone I can afford to know. (par. 25)

ACTIVITY

Practice analyzing point of view with the following excerpt from The School Days of an Indian Girl by Zitkala-Sa. Write an analytical paragraph about the effect of the first person point of view of the piece and how that choice of point of view helps Zitkala-Sa develop her theme.

from The School Days of an Indian Girl / Zitkala-Sa

Late in the morning, my friend Judéwin gave me a terrible warning. Judéwin knew a few words of English, and she had overheard the paleface woman talk about cutting our long, heavy hair. Our mothers had taught us that only unskilled warriors who were captured had their hair shingled by the enemy. Among our people, short hair was worn by mourners, and shingled hair by cowards!

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We discussed our fate some moments, and when Judéwin said, “We have to submit, because they are strong,” I rebelled.

“No, I will not submit! I will struggle first!” I answered.

I watched my chance, and when no one noticed I disappeared. I crept up the stairs as quietly as I could in my squeaking shoes, — my moccasins had been exchanged for shoes. Along the hall I passed, without knowing whither I was going. Turning aside to an open door, I found a large room with three white beds in it. The windows were covered with dark green curtains, which made the room very dim. Thankful that no one was there, I directed my steps toward the corner farthest from the door. On my hands and knees I crawled under the bed, and cuddled myself in the dark corner.

From my hiding place I peered out, shuddering with fear whenever I heard footsteps near by. Though in the hall loud voices were calling my name, and I knew that even Judéwin was searching for me, I did not open my mouth to answer. Then the steps were quickened and the voices became excited. The sounds came nearer and nearer. Women and girls entered the room. I held my breath, and watched them open closet doors and peep behind large trunks. Some one threw up the curtains, and the room was filled with sudden light. What caused them to stoop and look under the bed I do not know. I remember being dragged out, though I resisted by kicking and scratching wildly. In spite of myself, I was carried downstairs and tied fast in a chair.

I cried aloud, shaking my head all the while until I felt the cold blades of the scissors against my neck, and heard them gnaw off one of my thick braids. Then I lost my spirit. Since the day I was taken from my mother I had suffered extreme indignities. People had stared at me. I had been tossed about in the air like a wooden puppet. And now my long hair was shingled like a coward’s! In my anguish I moaned for my mother, but no one came to comfort me. Not a soul reasoned quietly with me, as my own mother used to do; for now I was only one of many little animals driven by a herder.