The Bazaar and Other Stories Read Free Page A

or
woman or child, in relation to a particular crisis or mood or moment,
and to that only” ( Mulberry Tree 129). Notwithstanding the com
pression of character, the details that constitute their fictional being
are metonyms for other forces. As Phyllis Lassner explains, “This
technique reflects Bowen’s theory of character as shaped by
historical processes” (75).
    The short story requires compression in dialogue and dramatic
situation. In Bowen’s stories, people talk at cross-purposes or do
not express themselves fully in conversation, which exacerbates
tensions. Drama arises from misunderstanding and withheld mean
ing, as happens between Tom and Antonia in “The Man and the
Boy.” Dialogue, even when mined with misapprehensions, displays
character. Any recourse to description would merely add to the
length of the story. The “full-length portrait” of character suits the
novel, where motive and feeling can be explained in the
Bowen invariably conceives of fiction as a coincidence of
pressures: longueurs of
exposition. The short story, by contrast, “confers importance:
characters in it are given stature, and are moreover spotlit, so that
their gestures are not only clearly seen but cast meaningful shadows”
(“Rx for a Story Worth the Telling” 14). The embodiment of actions,
characters do not explain their every motive, nor need they. Action
unfolds in a series of spotlit manœuvres, but the glare of the
spotlight elongates the shadows thrown by characters. Characters
act according to the dictates of plot, which their own volition
distorts.
    There is the plot: that is, the author’s intention. And inside that
plot (or, situation) and in it only can the characters operate. And,
that they may operate the better, the novelist subjects them to an
inhuman pressure – keeping them at the alert, and extracting the
utmost from them, forcing them along. He exposes them, night
and day, to a relentless daylight in which nothing is hid. No
human being, other than a fiend, would treat with his fellow
humans, in daily life, in so ruthless, uncompromising a manner.
(“Novelist and his Characters” 22)
    The author’s handling of characters borders on sadism. Plot moves
along a chain of cause and effect, or event and consequence.
Character, auxiliary to sequence, is gripped as if in a vice. In her
introduction to
The Observer Prize Stories , Bowen calls this “inner
inevitability” a merit in any narrative (viii). The situation lays hold
of the characters, rather than the characters laying hold of the
situation. Whether they make the situation or not, characters have
to respond to the force of circumstance. They act under the burden
of necessity.
    Bowen responded to a different kind of necessity by writing
stories for collaborative volumes. In addition to “The Unromantic
Princess” and “Brigands,” three stories – “She Gave Him,” “Flavia,”
and “The Good Earl” – initially appeared in books by several hands.
“The Good Earl,” a political allegory masquerading as an Irish folk
tale, was written for
Diversion (1946), a book sold to raise money for
the Yugoslav Relief Fund. Proceeds from The Princess Elizabeth Gift
Book , in which “The Unromantic Princess” appeared, supported the
Princess of York Hospital for Children. On the other hand, “Flavia,”
written for The Fothergill Omnibus (1931), had no specifically
charitable aim. As editor, John Fothergill invited several authors to
write a story on a given plot: a correspondence between a man and
woman is curtailed when the man marries; when he resumes the
correspondence after his marriage, he learns that his wife and his
correspondent are one and the same person. Whether Diversion , The
Fothergill Omnibus , or The Princess Elizabeth Gift Book , the collaborative
book either demonstrates public-mindedness or endorses public
causes. The story need have no direct connection to the cause it
ostensibly supports. In terms of content, “The Good