Learning From the Greats Part 2
In my last post in this series I wrote about narrative tension, character flaw and core belief. You can read it here.
I’m still pulling apart Tracy Chevalier’s classic Girl With a Pearl Earring. This week we’re talking about Symbolism and Theme, and how the author uses Showing and Telling for effect.
The thing with Chevalier’s book is that everything is so brilliantly subtle. Even though you get ‘it’ on surface level, you don’t even realise the depths of nuance the author uses until you go back with the scalpel and begin to dissect.
Symbolism and Theme
Upon my first read of GWaPE I initially thought that Griet’s obsession with cleanliness and order was merely a tool to justify why Vermeer thought she was suitable to be his maid. With further readings it became more obvious it works much harder for its place than that.
In the bigger symbolic sense, her tidiness of appearance represents her youth, her virtue, and her innocence – the position of a young girl who has not yet experienced the complexities of adulthood. It also sets out and develops the themes of respectability and social expectancy and uses this seemingly minor character trait as a measuring stick of her transitioning state-of-being throughout the plot. Her cap is preciously maintained and protected, and Griet is super-sensitive around the suggestion of removing it, representing her as-closely-guarded propriety.
As the story moves along, Griet is determined to keep her external appearance as unblemished as ever but, inside, her innocence and untarnished character is slipping. And yet, Chevalier is cleverer than merely telling us from Griet’s internal monologue. Much like with the technique she uses at the beginning to show Griet’s true feelings about her family’s lowered position, she reinforces Griet’s deeper feelings through symbolic actions.
One example is when she interferes in the presentation of the studio scene leading up to when Vermeer paints Van Ruijven’s wife. By moving the tablecloth to seem disheveled, not only does it show Griet’s natural instinct for art, it symbolises her inner turmoil, her desire to become untamed, give in to her passions, and not be the good person she is expected so hardily to be. It symbolises that there are cracks beneath the carefully maintained veneer, and that her rebellious nature is coming to the fore. But the beauty I find in Chevalier’s style is that not once does Griet have an improper thought about her relationship with Vermeer. It’s all implied; Chevalier deliberately avoids doing anything so crass.
Other instances of this symbolic transitioning are when she sees Vermeer has added a slight wisp of hair from beneath her cap in her own portrait, foreshadowing what will come later. And, when she has finally reached the point of no return, she goes to the changing room, willingly takes off her closely guarded cap and lets down her hair, waiting for her master to come to her. This is the final symbolisation of her fall from innocence, of her becoming a woman, of her becoming knowingly complicit in a situation which, up until that point, has, for the most part, been thrust upon her. And in the last pages, her bloodied hands and apron create a stark contrast against the image with which we began the tale, representing her acceptance of her lowering in social hierarchy.
There are many more instances like these, if you look for them, but if ever you are editing your manuscript and you feel you have fallen into a pattern of character description that seems trite or shallow or just too bloody obvious, think about this technique. See where you can reflect your protagonist’s emotional state through the use of symbiotic symbolism rather than through the overt.
Showing and Telling.
It’s as simple as this: in order to show how Griet’s feelings differ between Vermeer and Pieter, Chevalier uses these two techniques to contrast one against the other. The scenes with Vermeer are scrupulously detailed (which also contributes to the impression that Griet has artistic potential) and the scenes with Pieter are kept much more at a distance; showing/telling.
We never really come to like Pieter, or root for them to be together, and his advances on Griet as their relationship progresses help to give a somewhat seedy feel to their blossoming affair. These scenes also reflect Griet’s growing romanticism of Vermeer; the deeper her feelings become, the more she allows Pieter to have access to her body. But it is the more Telling nature of the narrative in the Pieter scenes that highlights the importance of Vermeer, whose scenes are more vivid, sumptuous and therefore more pleasing to read; Pieter’s scenes feel kind of stiff ( or maybe I mean uncomfortable), distant and not quite ‘right’. Much like the shine of the earring in the painting itself, the use of contrast, of light in the dark – or, in this case, of dark in the light – sets off the main body of the art and makes it (Vermeer) all the more captivating.
The fact that Chevalier understands the process of creating such a work of art is reflected in how she has structured the story in this way. To translate those processes into creating the story is beyond clever, it’s sublime. And inspiring and intimidating, from a writer’s point of view, all at the same time.
And it is only when you look at it like this you remember that, in fact, the book is painting a portrait of the painter, who is painting a portrait of the subject of the story. It’s all mirrors in this book, from the deep characterisation, to the symbolism, to the structure. Mirrors and dark and light. Genius.
So, plenty to mull over here. I’m off to London for the weekend – party, party! — but come back for part three next Friday where I will be talking about backstory, setting and characterisation. There’s also Monday for the last part of Top 10 Reasons for Rejection at The Colored Lens.
Have a good one!
