* Spoiler alert – this post discusses Rebecca, Wuthering Heights, The Phantom of
the Opera, and American Psycho
and you may find some parts to spoil the plot *
Last year I finally got round to reading Rebecca, and although it wasn’t quite what I was expecting, it is a
book that inspires debate. The final quarter is by far the most engaging
section of the novel as Rebecca’s murder and true character are revealed. Of
course, Maxim’s depiction of her may well be skewed – their marriage did not
end well and he’s unlikely to admit to murder in the same breath as praising
his deceased wife. There are hints from other characters that suggest she was
not as perfect as others would have the new Mrs de Winter to believe. Assuming
that we believe Maxim’s tale, does this justify the reader in rooting for him
to get away with it? Does the fact we know it’s fiction lessen the moral
dilemma? I would argue that we are more accepting of extreme behaviour within
the confines of fiction, and yet it can help us to see the world in less black
and white simplicity.
The point of view of the narrator will play a large part in our
reaction to events. We have witnessed the story unfold through the eyes of
Maxim’s new bride and although she is not particularly likable and seems
self-centred to the extreme when discovering the sticky end of Rebecca and
feeling only relief that she no longer has to live in her shadow. Yet, because
we have never met Rebecca except through the reminiscences of other characters,
it is easier to side with Maxim. We experience the events through the loving
eyes of his new wife and so it is her desire for evading the law that is
projected on to the reader.
Often it is either the narrator’s voice that sways us as readers or
the knowledge of mistreatment that has led to their otherwise unforgivable
actions. Take Heathcliff for example; he behaves abominably through large
chunks of Wuthering Heights and yet
generations of fans hold him up as a romantic hero or misunderstood man.
Popular adaptations lean heavily toward this interpretation, cutting many of
his wicked deeds, yet many readings of the novel are also often reluctant to
condemn him. Why? Is it because we see his mistreatment at the hands of Hindley
and abandonment by Cathy and hold on to the sympathy this evokes? Regardless of
this, can we really justify his abuse of the next generation who have done him
no harm? Is it fair to look the other way because of childhood trauma? Would we
feel the same way if it were real life?
Similarly in The Phantom of
the Opera we are led to feel pity for the Phantom. Again, popular
adaptations downplay his villainy, but even in the popular musical he kills
somebody. In the book he has a torture chamber that we see put to use in
horrifying detail, but we are also told that even his own mother would not
kiss his head. His rejection is total. This sense of him having been wronged
throughout his life through no fault of his own, to begin with at least,
encourages us to feel more compassionately toward him. These characters show
humans to be much more complex than simply good or bad. We seem to find this
almost easier to accept in fiction than in life.
In both Wuthering Heights and
The Phantom of the Opera we don’t
have the story told to us by the perpetrators themselves but pieced together
through other narratives. This suggests that it is knowledge of hardship that
plays with our reactions more than the narrative point of view. If we look at a
more recent example, American Psycho, we
are reading a first person narrative, experiencing crimes in uncomfortable
detail, and I can’t imagine many readers making excuses for Patrick Bateman’s
actions as we have in the previous examples. Why does he not hold this same
ambiguity (for the purpose of this post, let’s assume the crimes are real and
not figments of his imagination, as is the belief held throughout the bulk of
the book)? Consumerism and the shallow society he lives in seem to be his main
driving factors, seeing humans as little more than commodities. This admittedly
does not spring from the same abuse that our other examples have endured, yet
there is the suggestion that he is mentally ill and therefore not entirely
culpable for his actions. Why is this not enough? If we witnessed Heathcliff’s
actions against Isabella in similarly gruesome detail would we find it as easy
to make excuses for his behaviour? Does Bateman’s lack of regret close him off
to us where in others there is some inkling of remorse? Do we need this as
something we can relate to on a human level?
I’d love to hear your thoughts on these famous characters, what
books have raised moral questions for you, and if the experience translated
into altered world views? Let me know in the comments below.
