Rachael Eyre's Blog - Posts Tagged "framing-devices"
Kids, this is the story of a framing device ...
Last Thursday British fans of How I Met Your Mother finally learned how the long running rom com ends. In case you're unfamiliar with the show, it's the story of how Ted Mosby meets the love of his life, told to his teenaged kids in the year 2030. The hook is, Ted is the sort of guy whose memory goes off on bizarre tangents, particularly the exploits of his wacky friends.
Since I refuse to give away spoilers, I won't say what happens, only that it caused a ruckus Stateside when it was first shown. I can't help but feel this anger is misplaced. Yes, we're emotionally invested in Ted's quest for love, but it's as much about the framing device and making use of the opportunities such a unique structure brings.
I'll come clean now: I've always had a yen for framing devices. If used well, they can lend a work real depth and poignancy. We know, for example, that Humbert Humbert has died from a heart attack, but what first time readers may miss, hidden amongst the 'Where are they now?' notes at the beginning, is that Lolita has recently died in childbirth. And few things make a reader as angry as the Appendix of The Handmaid's Tale, where the smug and unlikable history professor doubts the veracity of the account.
It's probably for this reason that I love the early books in Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next series. Thursday is able to jump in and out of books and meet the characters in between chapters. While it's great to meet Bronte characters off duty, I've personally always wanted to know about framing device characters. What are they doing when the main action's being related? What happens to Hooper, the young soldier described in such detail in Brideshead Revisited? How does Wormwood reply to his uncle Screwtape's letters? I itch to write about these unsung heroes who prop a story up, but won't leap on the 'zany take on a well loved classic' bandwagon.
Here are a few works with fabulous framing devices, showing how effective they are at their very best.
One Thousand and One Nights
Although the ancient Persian collection has given us many gems, not least Aladdin, the most interesting thing is arguably the premise itself.
Sultan Shahryar is a man with a grudge. His wife was unfaithful, so he embarks upon a terrible vendetta: he keeps taking a new bride, only to have her executed the next morning. When the supply of eligible virgins dries up, Scheherazade, his vizier's daughter, puts herself forward as the next bride. Scheherazade is as brainy as she is beautiful, and a masterly storyteller. She gets into a cycle of telling the most wonderful yarns, cutting them short at the exciting parts. Naturally Shahryar keeps her alive to hear the next instalment. A thousand and one nights and several children later, the Sultan is deeply in love and sees the error of his ways.
If you ask me, this is more suspenseful and intriguing than any magic lamp. It's also palpably unfair: why should clever, lovely Scheherazade be shackled to this monster? She deserves better!
The Canterbury Tales
Although it can't rival One Thousand and One Nights for length and scope, The Canterbury Tales is still a marvellous set up. A band of pilgrims, drawn from every tier of society, are riding to Thomas Becket's shrine. To help pass the time, they agree to tell stories, with pub landlord Harry Bailey acting as judge. While not all of them are good - Chaucer, in a self deprecating cameo, tells the decidedly silly story of Sir Topaz, and the Prioress's Tale is a revolting piece of anti Semitic propaganda - others are superb. Watch out for the bawdy Miller's Tale, the unforgettable Wife of Bath, and Chanticleer the rooster, one of the earliest examples of an engaging anthropomorphic animal.
Citizen Kane
What drove billionaire industrialist Charles Foster Kane, who died an eccentric, unmourned recluse on his estate Xanadu? And what was the meaning of his last word, "Rosebud"? Taking these questions as his remit, the reporter Thompson (we never see his face) travels far and wide to speak to Kane's associates, whether his erstwhile friend Jed or his drunken ex Susan Alexander. It's a fantastic bit of storytelling, and even though the ending has passed into common knowledge, still a cracking film.
The Princess Bride
The Princess Bride is unusual in that both book and film rely heavily on the framing device - and it pulls it off brilliantly. The novel purports to be the "less boring" version of a book by S Morgenstern, with fictional equivalents of the author and his family popping up. Since this would be impossible to adapt, the film takes a different approach. A mouthy kid is sick in bed, having The Princess Bride read to him by his granddad. Initially snarky about the story and reluctant to spend time with his grandpa, he gradually warms up to both. It's lovely to watch, and the gently bickering Peter Falk and Fred Savage turn in terrific performances.
Amadeus
Amadeus takes a popular legend - that court composer Antonio Salieri secretly loathed Mozart, and plotted his destruction - and runs with it. The set up is based on actual events: a crazed Salieri did indeed cut his throat, and claim he'd murdered Mozart. What happens next - an epic tale of passion, jealousy and vengeance, with the best soundtrack in film history - is pure fantasy, but spellbinding. The elderly Salieri (F Murray Abraham) spills all in confession to a naive young priest. He acts as audience surrogate as we learn of Salieri's grudge match against God - and how, decades later, the infuriating, giggling genius has had the last laugh.
Since I refuse to give away spoilers, I won't say what happens, only that it caused a ruckus Stateside when it was first shown. I can't help but feel this anger is misplaced. Yes, we're emotionally invested in Ted's quest for love, but it's as much about the framing device and making use of the opportunities such a unique structure brings.
I'll come clean now: I've always had a yen for framing devices. If used well, they can lend a work real depth and poignancy. We know, for example, that Humbert Humbert has died from a heart attack, but what first time readers may miss, hidden amongst the 'Where are they now?' notes at the beginning, is that Lolita has recently died in childbirth. And few things make a reader as angry as the Appendix of The Handmaid's Tale, where the smug and unlikable history professor doubts the veracity of the account.
It's probably for this reason that I love the early books in Jasper Fforde's Thursday Next series. Thursday is able to jump in and out of books and meet the characters in between chapters. While it's great to meet Bronte characters off duty, I've personally always wanted to know about framing device characters. What are they doing when the main action's being related? What happens to Hooper, the young soldier described in such detail in Brideshead Revisited? How does Wormwood reply to his uncle Screwtape's letters? I itch to write about these unsung heroes who prop a story up, but won't leap on the 'zany take on a well loved classic' bandwagon.
Here are a few works with fabulous framing devices, showing how effective they are at their very best.
One Thousand and One Nights
Although the ancient Persian collection has given us many gems, not least Aladdin, the most interesting thing is arguably the premise itself.
Sultan Shahryar is a man with a grudge. His wife was unfaithful, so he embarks upon a terrible vendetta: he keeps taking a new bride, only to have her executed the next morning. When the supply of eligible virgins dries up, Scheherazade, his vizier's daughter, puts herself forward as the next bride. Scheherazade is as brainy as she is beautiful, and a masterly storyteller. She gets into a cycle of telling the most wonderful yarns, cutting them short at the exciting parts. Naturally Shahryar keeps her alive to hear the next instalment. A thousand and one nights and several children later, the Sultan is deeply in love and sees the error of his ways.
If you ask me, this is more suspenseful and intriguing than any magic lamp. It's also palpably unfair: why should clever, lovely Scheherazade be shackled to this monster? She deserves better!
The Canterbury Tales
Although it can't rival One Thousand and One Nights for length and scope, The Canterbury Tales is still a marvellous set up. A band of pilgrims, drawn from every tier of society, are riding to Thomas Becket's shrine. To help pass the time, they agree to tell stories, with pub landlord Harry Bailey acting as judge. While not all of them are good - Chaucer, in a self deprecating cameo, tells the decidedly silly story of Sir Topaz, and the Prioress's Tale is a revolting piece of anti Semitic propaganda - others are superb. Watch out for the bawdy Miller's Tale, the unforgettable Wife of Bath, and Chanticleer the rooster, one of the earliest examples of an engaging anthropomorphic animal.
Citizen Kane
What drove billionaire industrialist Charles Foster Kane, who died an eccentric, unmourned recluse on his estate Xanadu? And what was the meaning of his last word, "Rosebud"? Taking these questions as his remit, the reporter Thompson (we never see his face) travels far and wide to speak to Kane's associates, whether his erstwhile friend Jed or his drunken ex Susan Alexander. It's a fantastic bit of storytelling, and even though the ending has passed into common knowledge, still a cracking film.
The Princess Bride
The Princess Bride is unusual in that both book and film rely heavily on the framing device - and it pulls it off brilliantly. The novel purports to be the "less boring" version of a book by S Morgenstern, with fictional equivalents of the author and his family popping up. Since this would be impossible to adapt, the film takes a different approach. A mouthy kid is sick in bed, having The Princess Bride read to him by his granddad. Initially snarky about the story and reluctant to spend time with his grandpa, he gradually warms up to both. It's lovely to watch, and the gently bickering Peter Falk and Fred Savage turn in terrific performances.
Amadeus
Amadeus takes a popular legend - that court composer Antonio Salieri secretly loathed Mozart, and plotted his destruction - and runs with it. The set up is based on actual events: a crazed Salieri did indeed cut his throat, and claim he'd murdered Mozart. What happens next - an epic tale of passion, jealousy and vengeance, with the best soundtrack in film history - is pure fantasy, but spellbinding. The elderly Salieri (F Murray Abraham) spills all in confession to a naive young priest. He acts as audience surrogate as we learn of Salieri's grudge match against God - and how, decades later, the infuriating, giggling genius has had the last laugh.
