It is week 2 of my British Novel class. The reading assignment for this week was Ford Madox Ford's The Good Soldier. The story is told by the narrator John Dowell. He opens the book with the statement " I don't know how it is best to put this thing down - whether it would be better to try and tell the story from the beginning, as if it were a story; or whether to tell it from this distance of time..." The narration jumps back and forth in time. The reader is left to figure out the sequence of events based on the narrator's disconnected thoughts and perception of the characters and of the events. We want to believe Dowell because he was there and he was a witness to the events. Unfortunately, Dowell was viewing social behavior and his perceptions of this behavior. All is not as it seems. The characters were acting one way in public and another behind closed doors. Dowell is duped and deceived by both his wife and his friends. Is Dowell a reliable or unreliable narrator? Dowell was viewing social behavior for 9 years and never seemed to look beyond the social norms of the time. However, as the story unfolds and the truth is revealed to Dowll, he does pass it on to the reader. By the end of the story, we have all of the events, perceptions and truths that Dowell is able to provide.

British Novel 1900 to 1940

I am currently enrolled in a British Novel class. My introduction to the genre was James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. This introduction also included a literary technique called stream of consciousness. Through this technique the reader is exposed to a character's disconnected, random thoughts. As the main character grows in self awareness, his development as a writer and artist grow as well. The poem at the end of the book sums up Joyce's story and Stephen's (main character) attainment of personal growth.

Are You Not Weary of Ardent Ways

From A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

By James Joyce

Are you not weary of ardent ways,

Lure of the fallen seraphim?

Tell no more of enchanted days.

Your eyes have set man's heart ablaze

And you have had your will of him.

Are you not weary of ardent ways?

Above the flame the smoke of praise

Goes up from ocean rim to rim.

Tell no more of enchanted days.

Our broken cries and mournful lays

Rise in one eucharistic hymn.

Are you not weary of ardent ways?

While sacrificing hands upraise

The chalice flowing to the brim,

Tell no more of enchanted days.

And still you hold our longing gaze

With languorous look and lavish limb!

Are you not weary of ardent ways?

Tell no more of enchanted days.