With perception at its core, Barnes’ novel travels alongside an imprisoned man and a famous author attempting to help him earn his freedom. While additional themes of the novel include racial injustice, legal injustice, and faith are of equal importance and presence in this novel, equally deserving of attention is the possibility of Barnes’ play on words and the commentary it provides into Barnes’ own thoughts about perception. The novel shifts between two male leads, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and George Edalji. The former, though, offers an interesting play on words as he is Arthur the author of the incredible stories of the detective known as Sherlock Holmes. Arthur, the author, the creator of narratives and “palaces built out of paragraphs”1. Sir Arthur’s profession offers several interesting roads to travel. The first being that his job solely requires him to both create narratives and sell them. If an author publishes a story that is incapable of enticing an audience no matter how large or small, they surely are not a good one. While spinning yarns might be an admirable talent, consider this in connection with a legal case. Are men and women convicted off of a good story or evidence? Should the justice system be swayed by evidence or an enthralling theory? The American justice system is set up in a way that individuals should be considered innocent until proven guilty by a jury of their peers, who shall only convict them if they are without reasonable doubt. Whether Americans are tried fairly in this way, whether George was tried fairly in a similar way within America’s parent country, leads us to our next point about Barnes’ many interpretations of perception found in Sir Arthur’s name. To be an author goes beyond telling and selling a story. As mentioned, this blog is run by a Graduate student at Wright State University. In my own seminar class, two colleagues offered insight into what Arthur’s name could mean. Trey Brown offered that Arthur’s name-play is interesting in the way that an author sometimes knows the ending they wish to reach, and will create a narrative to assist them in reaching it. Sir Arthur decides immediately that George is innocent. He expresses that he not only thinks George is innocent, he “knows” George is (Barnes, 270). Brown’s insight suggests, in connection to a legal case, that it is highly likely an author might be missing evidence that does not fit the narrative they have decided on. When looking for things to prove George’s innocence, Sir Arthur negates what might prove George’s guilt (Barnes, 309). Another classmate, Kendra Fields, offers that because Sir Arthur is the author who created such a whimsically intelligent and astute detective, he is often perceived as an equally intelligent detective. This fictional credibility may transfer to the real members of the jury in a way that makes them eager to believe the same thing that Sir Arthur eagerly wants to prove. This, again, reflects the fragility of the legal system as people with influence are often able to sway cases one way or another without much evidence. These roads that map out the possible meaning of Sir Arthur’s name could reflect Barnes’ own awareness of the power in his profession, and thus his understanding of the power of perception. As an author, Barnes has the chance to wield the same power as Sir Arthur, the power to persuade others to buy into their own narrative. Barnes highlights not only the power of persuasion in literature but the power of persuasion in unjust legal systems. "’You will only see him with the eyes of faith.’" - Barnes, Arthur & George, pg. 325. 1. “Burn”, Hamilton, 2015
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What’s in a name? What history? What life? What stories? Readers may have these questions after finishing Atwood’s brilliant novel, where these questions remain unanswered by the author to torture the reader. Or rather, at least, to inspire the reader to consider these questions and then some. Alias Grace follows the story of a convicted murderess with narration limited by the protagonist, Grace Marks. Upon completing the novel, readers may feel lost at sea with nothing to help them navigate their way home except the stars, a tool only the ancient experts are privy to. Grace is quite like these ancient navigators. She is deliberate in what knowledge she shares with whom. We never really know the truth. One element that is uncomfortably clear, though, is that the romanticism of murderers is a tale as old as time, where the beauty is the beast. Throughout Atwood’s work, Grace is consistently aware of how others perceive her, as well as how she wants to be perceived. Is she telling a carefully crafted story because she wants to get away with murder? Because she is insane? Or because she is in a world ruled by men and a woman who was in the wrong place at the wrong time? Grace’s interaction with the men of the novel screams, “Help me, I keep finding myself at the mercy of men who desperately miss their mothers.” Dr. Jordan, of course, is the first example of this. However, I would like to discuss Jaime Walsh, the man who testified against Grace during her trial but eventually married her when she was pardoned. Jaime forces Grace to relive her miserable life often, sparing no gruesome details. Grace remarks that the more unsettling her stories are, the more “in ecstasies” he finds himself (Atwood, 457). Commonly, murderers and famous loons throughout history are doted on. Charles Manson and Ted Bundy make the cut in reality while Tate Langdon and Norman Bates carry the fictitious burden. While most who suffer from hybristophilia are guilty of romanticizing murderous men, Grace finds herself in an inverse position where Jaime is beside himself without Grace’s gory stories. Equally as strange as this fascination with the freaky things in life is Grace’s sense of pride when she manages to please her husband. He feebly begs her for forgiveness and upon receiving it, is thus put back into his manhood. As a woman, Grace has found power in a man’s world. The longer she can keep someone listening, the more she can forgive her husband. The stronger she feels while remaining a victim simultaneously. To think that a woman, convicted for murder for most her of her life, is still a victim to the men around her creates an uninteresting contrast. The restrictions of a woman’s uterus knows no bounds, as no matter what the situation Grace finds herself in she will be reduced to her womanhood. If Grace was mentally insane, she would be subject to ridicule for melodramatics or hysteria. If Grace was a murderer, she would again be subject to commentary with connotations of being emotionally overwhelmed. Lastly, and perhaps the worst-case scenario that Grace could possibly find herself in, Grace could find herself telling a story of feigned illness as she was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time… Caught by men, diagnosed by men, and thus having to play along in hopes that mercy would find her. What is in a name? A gender? An era? “The way I understand things, the Bible may have been thought out by God, but it was written down by men. And like everything men write down, such as the newspapers, they got the main story right but some of the details wrong.” - Atwood, Alias Grace, pg. 459. |
About the Faux HistorianAs a Graduate student at Wright State University, Kayelynne Harrison found herself studying Neo-Victorian Literature as she pursued her Master of Art's Degree in ENG: Literature. This page is a small reflection of the work she has accomplished in her last semester. Though preferring to study Gothic Literature and Horror Film analysis, where she hopes her future lies, these Neo-Victorian studies prove helpful in Kayelynne's journey. Archives
April 2021
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