must have full omniscience is the unjusufiable belief that an omniscient
God is the only alternative to a human’s partial knowledge.
analyzes biblical narrative as a special case, the true model of omniscient
narration, significantly revises the views that I have quoted. Instead o f cit
ing as a known quantity “the infallible awareness o f the all-knowing im
It is curious that literary scholars should refer to a superhuman viewpoint as an
Olympian narrator, for the model of omniscient narration they have in mind
is actually patterned on the Hebraic rather than the Homeric model of divinity.
Homer’s gods, like the corresponding Near Eastern pantheons, certainly have ac
cess to a wider range of information than the normal run of humanity, but their
knowledge still falls well short of omniscience, concerning the past as well as the
19 0
C O N C E P T S
What happened to the idea that superhuman knowledge o f any sort en
tails full omniscience? But the later Sternberg is right: the Greek gods dis
play various sorts o f special knowledge; one cannot assume that they re
ally know everything but choose not to reveal it or act on it. Perhaps, if
only to break with the Judeo-Christian concept o f omniscience, narratol-
ogy should call on the Greek gods to embody the myriad sorts o f uncanny
knowledge that narratives deploy.
But rather than substitute one pantheon for another, we should ap
proach the matter from the other direction by asking what are the effects
people have sought to describe through the dubious notion o f omniscience
and whether it is apposite or helpful in these cases. There are four sorts of
phenomena that are important: (i) the performative authoritativeness of
many narrative declarations, which seem to bring into being what they de
scribe; (2) the reporting o f innermost thoughts and feelings, such as are
usually inaccessible to human observers; (3) authorial narration, where the
narrator flaunts his or her godlike ability to determine how things turn
out; and (4) the synoptic impersonal narration o f the realist tradition. Let
me take these up in turn.
(i)
One thing that contributes to the ascription o f omniscience is the
incontrovertible narrative declaration. “Emma Woodhouse, handsome,
clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed
to unite some o f the best blessings o f existence; and had lived nearly twen-
ty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.” '^ Critics
are inclined to say that the narrator knows these things. Since we cannot
dispute them, arguing that probably Emma was really older and not hand
some at all, we might think that we are dealing with special, superhuman
knowledge. But in fact it is not a question o f knowledge. You could know
this about a friend— it would be a permissible sort o f generalization— but
in the novel the claim has a different status: by convention we accept the
statement as truth, as a given o f the narrative world.
In this respect narrative fiction differs radically from nonfictional
narrative. The basic convention o f literature is that narrative sentences not
produced by characters are true, whereas in nonfiction similar statements
would have a different status. Consider this: “The job he had his eye on
now was Secretary o f the Navy, and when in October 1942, the man in that
job, Frank Knox, was away from Washington on an inspection tour for the
17. Austen, Emma, i.
President, Johnson planted with Walter Winchell, Drew Pearson and other
friendly columnists, the rumor that Knox was about to resign and that he
himself was in line for the post.” **
In a novel this would simply be a statement about the actions o f a
character that we would accept as given and true, and the question of ex
actly how the narrator knew this would not arise (unless the narrator were
a character). It is not a matter o f omniscience but o f the constitutive con
vention o f fiction. In Robert Caro’s biography o f Lyndon Johnson it has a
different status: we may wonder exactly how the author, Caro, knows this
and whether it is true that Johnson was himself the source o f these rumors.
“In narrative that is specifically literary,” though, as Felix Martinez-Bonati
writes, “the validity attributed to the narrator’s mimetic discourse is maxi
mal, absolute.” *^ (When doubts arise, the narrator turns into a character
whose different claims we must evaluate— which illustrates the constitu
tive force o f the presumption o f truthfulness.) The truth o f the heterodi-
egetic narrator’s discourse is, in Kantian terms, a transcendental principle
o f the comprehension or experience o f literary narration. What Martinez-
Bonati calls “the ironic acceptance o f the absolute truth o f the narrator’s
mimetic apophansis” is a condition o f possibility o f literature.^® The case
o f first-person narrative is different; there readers may certainly wonder
whether the narrator is telling the truth, but for so-called third-person nar
rative, which is where the ascription o f omniscience occurs, the truth of
the narrative’s “mimetic discourse” is a convention o f fiction.
But all narrative assertions in the novel do not benefit from this con
vention, as they would have to if the narrator were indeed omniscient.
Martinez-Bonati distinguishes the mimetic discourse or mimetic content
of the narratorial sentences from affirmations that are not narrative or de
scriptive: generalizations, aphorisms, opinions, moral views— which by
convention are not taken as constitutive o f the world o f the novel and
may receive varying degrees o f acceptance from readers. Thus, in Emma
18. Robert A. Caro, Means ofAscent, vol. 2 of The Years o f Lyndon Johnson
(New York: Random House, 1990), 72.
19. Felix Martinez-Bonati, Fictive Discourse and the Structures o f Literature
(Ithaca, NY: Cornell Universit)^ Press, 1986), 34.
20. “Ironic” in that we accept statements as truth within a universe we take
to be fictional. Apophansis is Martinez-Bonati’s term for the mimetic representa
tions asserted as true by definition in this novehstic world. Martinez-Bonati, Fic
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: