In praise of FPPOV, part the second (Why All the Hatahs?)

I was inspired to write this series by two things: a blog dissing FPPOV by a writer I admire, and a Q&A session on one of my loops with an editor whose house guidelines specifically state: “Things to avoid include: first person POV (at least in the beginning).”

But… but… why?

Natalie Damschroder states (bolding mine):

The exact reasons people give for loving first person are the reasons I hate it. See, most people feel first person is more intimate. Like the narrator is a friend, sitting beside the reader and telling them what happened. I agree that it’s like that—but I don’t agree that it’s more intimate. In fact, I think it’s more distancing… when I’m reading first person, the narrator is telling me the story. I want to live it, not hear it…First person exacerbates flaws in the story that I might ignore otherwise. The first person narratives that I stick with and enjoy the most, however, are the ones that are written as if they were third person. There’s very little direct address to the reader, or self-aware language.

(In the interest of full-disclosure, Natalie goes on to admit she’s trying her first FPPOV story now.)

I’ve never felt the “distancing” that Natalie mentions. I’m not sure I even understand it. Why should there be any more likelihood to “live” the story when “she does this and he does that” than when “I do this, I do that?” Can you really be “living” the story in any POV other than second person? (i.e., “You do this, you do that.”)

Indeed, there are arguments to be made that third person is necessarily more distancing, since there is the distance between subject and narrator–even the modern, involved, limited third-person narrator. In first person, there is no veil between the protagonist and the reader. Whose heart has not broken all over the page as Charlie from Flowers for Algernon begins to disintegrate, and doesn’t even possess the mental faculties to understand what has happened to him? Would such a reaction be the same if we read, “As time passed, the effects of the treatment wore off, and Charlie regressed to his former state…”

If anything, I think the true argument to be made against first person is how completely it forces you to live through the reality as the narrator sees it, no matter how unreliable that narration is. (::cough:: The Murder of Roger Ackroyd ::cough, cough::). In first person, you cannot distance yourself from this narrator. You cannot, even if you want to. You’ve been aligned to his or her worldview, however despicable it might be. I’m sure we can all think of a few like FPPOV books like that.

Now let us discuss the bolded text, wherein first person is accused of exacerbating flaws. In my research of FPPOV hatahs, this is a common refrain. Though I am barred by the rules of the email loop from repeating the editor’s words, it’s pretty much what he said.

I am curious, however, what flaws these are. Some FPPOV detractors even go so far as to state that FPPOV is the refuge of the sloppy novelist. But I’m having a hard time finding details. Any takers? Someone suggested the repetition of “I” and that in third person, you get the option of “he” or “Sailor Boy.” I read my novels out loud during the editing process, and though repeated words jump out at me, (oh, all too often, which is *why* I read out loud while I edit)…”I” is not one of them.

I suppose it’s different for every novel. One detractor opined that you miss a lot of detail when forced to view the world through the eyes of a given protagonist (he was speaking specifically about first person in science fiction). And yet, isn’t it fun to have that extra layer of mystery? Is this person really the way they’ve been described, or is the protagonist prejudiced? And could it be that the reader, in trying to divine the truth, is the one putting the distance between herself and the narrative?

The editor also stated that though many people think it’s easy, convincing FPPOV is in actuality quite difficult. I have certainly read FPPOV done poorly, as I have read books in any POV done poorly. But I’m not sure that I think of it as any more or less difficult than writing convincing characters — no matter what POV you choose.

And perhaps that’s where the issue is. If you don’t take to the characters, there is no escape in FPPOV. No distance. If the voice bugs you in third person, you may be able to tolerate it for the sake of the story. But in FPPOV, the voice is with you at every turn. If you LOVE the character (or, um, love to hate her) then this is a plus. Otherwise, I can imagine getting annoyed/frustrated/angry much more quickly.

Then again, there’s a third-person POV writer out there who turns me off by page 20 of every book of hers I’ve ever tried to read.

Of course, in this case, we’re discussing strong, convincing FPPOV stories featuring characters we don’t enjoy. I have a friend who can’t get through a Shopaholic book because of her very strong, very negative feelings about Becky Bloomwood. Lord knows there have been people, inconceivable as it sounds, who don’t care much for Amy. What about a FPPOV book where the voice is just… meh? Is this better or worse than a TPPOV with meh characters? Which is more distasteful?

The final problem the editor pointed out with FPPOV is that it required very careful blocking. He expressed doubt that a “strong plot” could be achieved in first person, since it required the protagonist to be present at every scene. No chance for a villain POV sneaking behind the protag’s back. Often, you see this problem solved with what Rachel Vincent calls “a Scooby Doo scene” where the villain somehow explains what he or she was doing throughout the book. (Vincent also rightly says this scene needs to be cut down as much as possible.) This, perhaps, would be similar to the scene discussed in the comments section yesterday, where the hero of the romance explains to the heroine how much he loved her all along. Or, you simply arrange the plot so that such monologuing is not necessary.

If the story truly centers around the protagonist (here we have the difference between the heterodiegetic (e.g., Ishmael) and the autodiegetic (e.g., Bridget Jones) narrator), then it’s probably pretty easy to make sure she’s there all the time, is it not? I’ve written 600 pages in my series, and there has only been one scene where I had to write around Amy’s absence.

So are these flaws real flaws, or are they a matter of taste? Natalie says she dislikes direct address (external focalization) in favor of “to the moment” living alongside the character. (Natalie and Sam Richardson would be buddies, I think.) I love it, in all mediums. I love Shakespeare’s asides, I love Ferris Bueller talking to the screen, I love Veronica Mars’s voice overs, and I love Amy’s confessions.

Focalization, of course, does not need to remain stable throughout the text. Like a camera, it can zoom in and out of the moment as needed.

So again, I wonder, why is there prejudice at all. Certainly, the problem of “sympathy” becomes even more trying when you are dealing with first person narration. But when achieved, the result is even more stunning than in third. A skillful writer can avoid repetition of sentence structure, and other claims (navel gazing, etc.) can be a danger in any narrative voice. Is it really a matter of taste after all?