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Nicole Duddy From his unkempt appearance to his coarse and frank manner of conversation, J.G. Quiggin presents himself as an unappealing yet peculiar personality, capable of making an impression on all he encounters. First acquaintances are hesitant in the sense that one never wants to give a bad first impression or strike others as an unlikable human being. When he bursts into the room, rudely banging open the door in an unapologetic manner and taking a seat with a sour look on his face, Quiggin makes it apparent that he does not practice this common exercise of caution among an unfamiliar audience. Jenkins can already tell that Quiggin is special; he comments "For the first time since come up I felt that I was at last getting into touch with the submerged element of the university, which, I had sometimes suspected, might have more to offer than was to be found in conventional undergraduate circles" (179). Indeed, Quiggin defies the conventionality among the standard undergraduates at the university, and perhaps what makes him different fuels his ambitions to rise up from his modest background. Quiggin is, no doubt, a very opinionated individual and an aggressive inquisitor. When Sillery asks him the simple question "Are you happy?" he "[begins] to enlarge on the matter of his own exasperation. He [says]: `All anyone here seems interested in is in messing about... I thought people came to the university to study, not to booze and gas all the time.'"(181). After that, everyone seems a little taken aback by such an attack on the university. In response, Sillery says, "You find we all fall woefully short of your own exacting standards- formed, no doubt, in a more austere tradition." (181). While they walk together, Quiggin persistently questions Jenkins "without relaxing [his] harsh exterior" as if probing for valuable information. He also claims to hate anything superficial; he would much rather read Fabian Essays in Socialism compared to the popular novel, The Green Hat, which describes the life of the rich and lost generation. He adds: "I suppose that depicts the kind of world that you friend String will enter..." (203). Jenkins also discovers that Quiggin is keen on meeting people he considers important, as if it was an opportunity to judge their worth or build his own connections. What are the roots to such an attitude of self assurance? Quiggin's grating voice with a Northern Country inflexion reveals his modest background, though talk of his hometown is something he wants to avoid. Quiggin makes it well known that he is not rich like his contemporaries, perhaps even exaggerating a bit. His lack of money transcends into a deficiency in class, status, a first-rate primary education, a distinguished family name, etc. On the subject of Bill Truscott and the job opportunity as private secretary to Sir Magnus Donners, Quiggin says, "I knew at once there would be no chance of Truscott thinking of me. Not good enough, I suppose…. Not good enough by a long chalk" (204). His envy and discontent, for Stringham in this case, encourages him to surpass the superficial privileged upper class- the Stringhams who get the jobs because of their connections. This requires a lot of self-discipline on his part. He has done so already by "collect[ing] unto himself sundry scholarships and exhibitions, which is much to his credit" (177). Ultimately, Quiggin will stay a topic of interest among the circle of undergraduates on matters of his background, appearance, and "something of the angry solitude of spirit that [holds Jenkins'] attention..." (205). Above all, Jenkins must not sympathize for Quiggin, who shows the will, independence, and capacity to take care of himself. As Sillery assures Jenkins, "Quiggin is an able young man... we must not forget that" (212). His display of work ethic and ambition might take him places farther than anyone would like to imagine. |
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Nick Anschuetz In Anthony Powell's A Question of Upbringing, characters are introduced through the eyes of the narrator, Jenkins. While most narrated novels introduce characters omnisciently, Powell does this quite differently. Rather than portraying characters immediately as they are going to be during the rest of the novel, Powell shows the characters as they are viewed through Jenkins at the time they are introduced. If a character is introduced as kind and likable at first, it is not definite they will remain that way. It is all decided by how Jenkins grows to view that particular person. A man could be introduced as a sniveling rat at first, yet, if Jenkins grows to like him, he may become more attractive to the reader as well. Classic examples of this in the novel are the characters of Widmerpool, Stringham, and Uncle Giles. Widmerpool's stoic appearance out of the afternoon mist at Eton in the first chapter of the novel symbolizes his mysteriousness throughout the chapter. "…the road was empty; except for Widmerpool, in a sweater once white and cap at least a size too small, hobbling unevenly, though with determination, on the flat heels of spiked running-shoes." (3) A boy, running alone, covered in mud, and "looming through the dusk" (3) excites Jenkins, which in turn, excites the reader. Not only is he running in the dusk, he is running at a time of the year when "exercise [was] no longer contestable five days a week." (3) We do immediately find out that he is considered quite odd at school. "His status was not high" (4), and he was in no way a standout in any particular aspect. Nevertheless, this only intrigues us more. From the first moment we meet Widmerpool, we like him and, like Jenkins, we are curious. Later, Stringham tells a story about Widmerpool being hit in the face with a banana accidentally. When Budd, the responsible party, goes up to apologize, Widmerpool says, "I don't mind at all, Budd. It doesn't matter in the least." (11) Stringham remarks that "It was as if Widmerpool had experienced some secret and awful pleasure." Widmerpool's heartiness towards the scene not only avoids an incident, but also throws "the most appalling gloom" (11) over the responsible boys. By seeing how Widmerpool handles certain situations, we become more and more curious as to what the boy is actually like. However, our opinion of Widmerpool changes as the story progresses. In Chapter 3, Jenkins travels to France to stay at La Grenadière, where Widmerpool is also staying. Here, Jenkins actually meets Widmerpool and has numerous conversations with him. Jenkins is finally able to see through the mysterious personae and find out who Widmerpool really is. During one meeting, the two talk about Peter Templer, and Widmerpool says, "`I suppose Templer got sacked in the end?'" and was "no doubt conscious that he might have sounded over-emphatic, and evidently trying to bring some jocularity to his tone." (131) Here we see Jenkins analyzing Widmerpool's tone and finding something he does not like. Jenkins has love for his friends, and never likes it when someone talks badly about one of them or about their personal lives. "Stringham being a friend of mine, I felt that it would be beneath my dignity to discuss his family affairs with someone who, like Widmerpool, knew of them only through hearsay." (130) Upon hearing the remark about Templer from Widmerpool, Jenkins immediately recognizes Widmerpool's poor cover-up. The reader can see how Jenkins is starting to lose all interest in knowing Widmerpool, and the reader begins to as well. Stringham is, along with Templer, one of Jenkins' best friends. "I liked and admired Stringham" (8). From reading Jenkins initial perception of Stringham, the reader also appreciates Stringham's qualities. For the first three chapters, Stringham is always closer to Jenkins, while Templer seems much more removed. However, when Stringham and Jenkins both attend Oxford, Stringham begins to separate himself from the trio. When Templer comes to Oxford, he insists that Stringham and Jenkins take a ride in his new car. During the trip, the car goes out of control and crashes, but does not seriously injure anyone. However, Stringham was "far the angriest person present." (197) "The incident with Templer's car had two results, so far as Stringham was concerned: it brought an end to his friendship with Peter, and it immensely strengthened his desire to go down as soon as possible from the university." (200) Jenkins does not appreciate the fact that Stringham is willing to drop a friend so quickly simply because of an accident. Not only does Stringham drop Templer as a friend, but he begins to drop Jenkins as well. Stringham cancels plans with Jenkins so he can go to a party, to which Jenkins "could pretend to Stringham that I did not mind: within, I was exceedingly annoyed. This was quite unlike him." (226) Stringham had changed from a good friend to a social climber. "Lady Bridgnorth, by her invitation that night, had effortlessly snapped one of the links-for practical purposes the main one-between Stringham and myself; just as the accident in Templer's car, in a rather different manner, had removed Templer from Stringham's course." (229) Uncle Giles first appears in the first chapter by interrupting Jenkins and Stringham in Jenkins' dorm room. He explains his intrusion by saying he was in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by. After a number of questions about Jenkins' friends, Uncle Giles reveals that his true reason for stopping by was because of a problem with the family Trust. After Uncle Giles leaves, Jenkins tells Stringham that "Uncle Giles was known for being impossible to keep in order, and that he always left trouble in his wake." (31) Initially, Jenkins views Uncle Giles as an annoying burden and that he would wish nothing more than to get rid of it. Jenkins' view influences the reader into believing the same thing. However, Jenkins' perception of Uncle Giles reverses after his "link" between himself and Stringham is snapped. "I was glad to have remembered Uncle Giles. It was, I suppose, justification of the family as a social group that, upon such an occasion, my uncle's company seemed to offer a restorative in the accidental nature of our relationship and the purely formal regard paid by him to the fact that I was his nephew." (229-230) Because of their familial bond, Jenkins is able to find an outlet in Uncle Giles. The reader's view of Uncle Giles immediately changes from one of aversion to one of appreciation. It is not as though Uncle Giles has necessarily changed-they talk about the Trust all night-but more that Jenkins realizes the asylum Uncle Giles can give him. People do not always change; more often than not, it is our opinion of people that change. Whether or not it's our ability to grow to tolerate someone or to understanding them better, our perception of that person is constantly changing. Widmerpool is first introduced as a mystery to Jenkins, which intrigues him. However, as he gets to know him, he realizes how much he really does not like him. While Jenkins always though Stringham was his best friend, he quickly discovers how two-faced he can be. Uncle Giles never changes throughout the novel; Jenkins discovers that when he needs help, Uncle Giles is there because of their family bond. The reader trusts Jenkins' opinions of people and shares them, until Jenkins changes his own opinion. |
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Jacob Bean In Anthony Powell's A Question of Upbringing the narrator Jenkins finds himself with two very unique friends from different backgrounds. Charles Stringham, the eldest of the three, is a respected member of Eton and comes from an affluent upper class family with noble connections. Peter Templer on the other hand has the reputation of being somewhat of a troublemaker and rule-bender at Eton. While he comes from a wealthy family, his father is a shrewd businessman who expects Templer to live off his own successes in business. This necessity to support himself seems to be trait lacking in Stringham who has the comfort of knowing he will never have to worry about money. Each character embodies two distinct sections of the upper class; Stringham represents inherited wealth while Templer represents earned wealth. At the end of A Question of Upbringing, Jenkins finds himself alone at Oxford while both his friends have ventured off into the real world; Stringham as a personal secretary to Sir Magnus and Templer a businessman quickly climbing toward economic prosperity. Each character has his own set of qualities which were heavily impacted by their opposite upbringings'. At the end of this volume, Powell has established a race to riches between the two characters, leaving old wealth and its connections to compete against new wealth and its demand to succeed. From the moment we first meet him, Jenkins tells us that " [he] liked and admired Stringham"(8). We soon find out that that Stringham's mother is an heiress and that Templer remarked that Stringham's family had "a good deal of money available"(9). Despite his family's impressive standing, Stringham only does enough to get by. Jenkins described him as "play[ing] cricket well enough to rub along"(9). When he is not in one of his "fits of melancholy, he talk[s] a lot,"(9) and has a generally amiable personality. He is also a keen judge of emotion and was able to use this skill to "quickly abandon[e] what had apparently been taken as a hostile standpoint"(41) by La Bas after the quote from Oscar Wilde. When Jenkins visits Stringham over the summer we are able to get a sense of the upper class lifestyle Stringham leads. Upon arriving in London "Stringham explained he wanted to buy some tropical clothes,"(54) a task which took up the majority of the morning. Stringham's lack of responsibility was only amplified by the absence of any real job in his family. Buster is described as "a polo-playing sailor"(54) who has never set foot on a boat while Mrs. Foxe seems to be vaguely carrying out the duties of an heiress. Instead of jobs, Stringham's family passes the time by watching the Russian Ballet and trading cars. When Stringham began his undergraduate studies at Oxford "he used to spend hours … reading detective stories, and complaining that he was bored" (171). Luckily for Stringham, he contained enough of what Uncle Giles called "influence,"(66) a trait that "the rich and nobly born automatically enjoy,"(66) to escape the university by means of serving as a private secretary to Sir Magnus. A job attained through Sillery's connections. Quite contrary to Stringham, Jenkins' first description of Peter Templer tells us that Peter was "adept at breaking rules, or diverting them to ends not intended by those who framed them"(8). He had a "natural jauntiness"(30) and was constantly in a "continuous series of minor rows"(31) with Le Bas, always testing how much he can get away with. Jenkins states that Templer "could not possibly be looked upon as a credit to the house"(31) and was "fairly lazy at work"(31). In spite of these negative attributes, Templer possesses one motivation that Stringham doesn't; Templer, who has no inheritance to fall back on, is driven by the knowledge that he will soon be completely reliant on his own economic success. Templer tells Jenkins that he must "see the car we have to use for station work"(72) before Jenkins can "understand what sort of man [Templer's] father is"(72). This picture of a conservative businessman is strengthened by Templer's "chief complaint"(72) that "his father, in control of so much more money than himself, showed … so little capacity for putting this favorable situation to a suitable advantage"(72). Templer realizes he must soon provide for himself, and it is this realization that spurs Templer to become a successful businessman in spite of his shortcomings. Luckily for Templer, his home life has prepared him to fulfill this role. We first venture into the Templer household in the midst of a business conversation "specif[ing] the terms and bearings of foreign loan…which [sunny] and Mr. Templer had evidently been discussing"(76). Immediately we can perceive a stark contrast between the Stringham and Templer households. Mr. Templer is very business minded while Stringham's family seems to scorn the triviality of holding a steady job. It is no surprise then that Peter's father is persuaded to remove him a term earlier than expected from Eton, holding the notion that "Peter should gain … some smattering of commercial life before going into the City"(75). Peter is "pleased"(71) by his early removal from school and greets his future with eagerness, spending a month studying business methods in Holland before moving to the city. The next time we encounter Peter he is a young and promising businessman who visits Jenkins at Oxford. At the end of A Question of Upbringing, both Stringham and Templer have branched out into the real world. Stringham, through his influence and association with Sillery, was able to take a position as a secretary of Sir Magnus, while Templer left Eton and entered straight into business under the guidance of his father. Both characters although varying greatly in personality and upbringing have found themselves in relatively important roles. However, the question still remains whether influence and connections are worth more than a demand to succeed. |
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Matt Cranney A Dance to the Music of Time is a story that focuses on characters. Jenkins is constantly encountering and processing new characters, who continually flit in and out of his life. Of these characters, Jenkins expresses more interest in those are on the edge of the social sphere and live reclusively. At Eton it was Widmerpool who fascinated him from afar, but upon reaching university Jenkins finds a new outcast to ponder. Quiggin is a different sort of man than any Jenkins has met thus far. Quiggin is ostracized from the rest of the characters before he even makes a physical appearance. Sillery's warning of how "he comes from a modest home, and is, I think, a little sensitive about it" and his mention of his acquisition of "sundry scholarships and exhibitions," immediately puts Quiggin on different footing then his assumedly wealthy, upper class peers (177). Yet Quiggin shows no fear in engaging with Sillery's inner circle, and while there manages to criticize the state of the university and interrogate Sillery's unexpected guest. In fact, his grating, working class, North Country accent seems to give him more authority when he talks, or at the very least give him a distinct voice. Jenkins later learns that Quiggin is not ashamed of his lack of class at all, but rather tries to trump up his appearance of financial hardship. By doing so, Quiggin makes himself appear like a hard working student, forging his way on merit alone. But despite this initial impression, Jenkins notices that "Quiggin's work was something to be discussed rather than tackled, and that what he really enjoyed was drinking cups of coffee at odd times of day" (209). Similar to Widmerpool, Quiggin is very ambitious. He works hard to come across as studious, and unlike most of Jenkins acquaintances, he is anything but a socialite. His appearance is "squat, already going bald…his neck encircled by a starched and grubby collar, his trousers kept up by a belt which he constantly adjusted," a stark difference to the vanity of Peter Templer. His looks match his declamations on the state of the student body, "I though people came to university to study, not to booze and gas all the time" (181). Jenkins notices that Quiggin is constantly trying to network to his advantage, and is "surprisingly successful in impressing persons- as he seemed to have impressed Truscott" (209) Members provides a fascinating foil for Quiggin. Sillery takes great joy in pointing out that Members and Quiggin are from the same town. This seems to suggest that they may come from similar backgrounds, if not financially than culturally. Members is very embarrassed by this fact, and tries to dodge questions about it when having tea with Short. This North Country, industrial background runs against the image Members is trying to create for himself. Members quips of "what very Monet weather it has been lately" show how painfully hard he tries to create his image as a member of the intelligentsia (190). He wishes to be seen as an elegant poet-intellectual who is comfortably located in Sillery's inner circle. Members puts on an extravagant show to act at ease with Sillery, referring to him as Sillers, and stretching out across Sillery's floor. Quiggin on the other hand is described by Jenkins as "[sitting] sourly on the extreme edge of the sofa, glancing around the room like a fierce little animal, trapped by naturalists" (180). In one manner Members and Quiggin are both very similar: they are both posers. They both wish to create a new persona in hopes that it their perceived identity will advance them closer to their goals. They both are attracted to Sillery because of what he represents. Members desires Sillery's academic connotations, and tries to use his connections with Sillery to get in with England's elite. Just like Quiggin, he is drawn towards Truscott. Members is drawn to Truscott's social status, and he attempts to put himself at a similar social standing in Truscott's mind by joking "pleasure can be so exhausting" (186). Quiggin is more interested in Truscott's political and business: he grills him on his new job with Sir Magnus Donners. This demonstrates how these two ambitious young men are located in different realms. Quiggin desires to make himself powerful through economic and political means, Members on the other hand wishes to rise to the top of the intellectual crowd. Both men come from the same town, but they try to project very different images that they both think will help advance them farther. Quiggin thinks that by playing up his working class background he appears to show that he has risen by merit, and Members wishes to disassociate himself from his hometown and focus on his successful poetry career while at his posh Public School. Due to Jenkin's fascinations with oddball characters such as Quiggin, it is doubtless he will appear later on in the story. It will be interesting to see what path he takes coming out of the university. How will Quiggin and Jenkins cross paths again? Will Members ever reconcile his connection to Quiggin? The most fascinating scenario of all will be if the novels two outcasts, Quiggin and Widmerpool, have an encounter. It would be a brilliant clash of ambitions and awkward social skills. |
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Corey Simpson It seems rash to indicate any kind of preference so early in the series, but while reading A Question of Upbringing I have grown especially attached to Jenkins, and all I can do is attempt to explain my reasons and hope he does not later turn out to be an ax-murderer. Short of his being an ax-murderer, though, I will defend him stubbornly, because, based on one quote -- one casual, passing comment in the first few pages -- I suspect Jenkins' entire outlook on life is colored by what I privately refer to as "bookish idealism," an affliction that has haunted me since the age of four and which gives me the greatest sympathy for his motivations. The quote I find so revealing is actually about Templer. Jenkins is, in the beginning, not sure he likes his messmate because his "boast that he had never read a book for pleasure in his life did not predispose me in his favour: though he knew far more than I of the things about which books are written." He clearly feels strongly about books if he is inclined to dislike anyone who dislikes reading, and his lack of worldly knowledge confirms that he has probably spent more time living through his books than through the kind of experiences Peter Templer has had. Lacking such experience, Jenkins is forced to see everything he encounters as he has learned: through books. "Bookish idealism" being an entirely invented term, I'll define it as the tendency to see life as one long, complex story, and the perpetual hope that said story will contain characters as easy to understand as those in fiction. Jenkins certainly sees his life as a story; accustomed to watching events unfold in books, he tends to do the same with his own life, narrating faithfully but rarely involving himself. He watches and analyzes others carefully, but never examines his own actions and motivations in equal depth. Another of Jenkins' more noticeable weaknesses is his habit of leaping to absurdly detailed conclusions about people he has barely met, assigning them all sorts of qualities based on appearance or pure whim. Nowhere is this more clearly illustrated than Jenkins' preconceived picture of Sunny Farebrother -- for, except in novels, people rarely fit neatly into categories, or match whatever images their names might evoke. Most obviously idealistic of all is his attitude towards love, which is treated so casually by Templer but is extremely important to Jenkins. Jean Templer is neither exceptionally pretty nor especially polite, remaining silent for most of his visit and speaking only to make some commonplace remark-yet Jenkins attributes this to Jean's "mysterious, even melancholy, presence." This is far less believable than Stringham's melancholy; it would be acceptable if he had actually known Jean, but Jenkins wastes no time in comparing her to a sad young saint, a tragic martyr to tennis. Later, in France, his encounter with Suzette makes him aware of "that restless sense of something desired that had become an increasing burden upon both day and night." He wants to love someone, even needs to be in love; so why not assign his desired qualities to girls too aloof to disturb his carefully crafted ideal? It is probably no coincidence that, straight from several years of living with and admiring Stringham, Jenkins is inclined to label anyone he wants to like as "melancholy." Upon arriving in France, he falls for Suzette easily, instantly "seeing" in her the same emotional intensity he believes he has seen in Jean, although at that point he knows nothing about Suzette except her liking for writing letters in mauve ink. Jenkins' belief that first impressions and speculation can provide an accurate picture of any person is one that could only be practical in fiction; the constant evolution of his acquaintances show that real life doesn't work that way. He possesses an odd combination of accurate observation and wild imagination; though he has all the qualities of a good narrator, he can't be regarded as reliable until he can bring the two into balance. |
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Nicole Lee Throughout "A Question of Upbringing," relationships seem to dissolve as quickly as they form. A common theme recurring in this novel is the loss of touch with old friends as the characters move on in life. As the narrator describes on page 229, "Human relationships flourish and decay, quickly and silently, so that those concerned scarcely know how brittle, or how inflexible, the ties that bind them have become." Two major examples of decaying friendships in this novel are those between Stringham and Templer, and Stringham and Jenkins. Jenkins, Stringham and Templer all attend Eton together in their college years and become friends by bonding over everyday occurrences such as complaining about Les Bas, mocking Widmerpool, and talking about girls. They room together, dine together, and satisfy the typical stereotype of college boys in England. By chapter two, however, Jenkins becomes aware of the differences between Stringham and Templer. He "recognizes how much their unlikeness to each other might also be attributed to dissimilar background." This foreshadows the decisive moment in which it is clear that Stringham and Templer's companionship is over. The final falling out between these two long time friends happens near the end of "A Question of Upbringing." Templer shows up to visit Stringham and Jenkins, bringing along his new friends Bob Duport and Jimmy Brent. When the five men go out to dinner, Jenkins and Stringham talk to Peter "rather fragmentarily"(192) while "Duport and Brent grunt to each other from time to time."(192) Having gone through many different experiences since college, they only manage to make small talk. This happens to every person at least once in their life, as they part ways with their friends and reunite, finding their goals in life are no longer the same. The three old friends know they have each gone there separate ways and just do not share the same camaraderie they did back at Eton. At dinner, Jenkins acknowledges to himself the change between Templer and Stringham. He realizes they no longer have anything in common and have grown out of each other's "habit of mind" and "manner of talking."(192) This proves a valid point because as people grow up and move on, their priorities change. Emphasized by their dissimilar backgrounds, it is not a surprise that their relationship did not work out. The accident involving Peter Templer's car serves as a solid end to his friendship with Stringham. In describing this situation, the narrator says, " there could be no doubt whatever that metamorphosis had taken place; and sometimes, it was almost as if Stringham were speaking of a friend who had died, or gone beyond the sea to a place from which he would never return."(201) The two simply set foot on different paths in life. This car incident does not have as great an impact on Jenkins as Stringham. Jenkins does mention that if Brent and Duport are "typical representatives of his London circle,"(201) then he does not care to spend much time with them. Though not particularly fond of Templer's new friends, Jenkins does not hold anything against him. Jenkins and Stringham's relationship, however eventually withers away in the end of the first book. The major turning point occurs when the two plan to dine, but Stringham instead attends "good party" that he is invited to last minute. He invites Jenkins to come and talk with him as he changes for the party after they get a quick drink. Although it is understandable that Stringham goes to the party, as he can see Jenkins anytime, for some reason this incident seems to affect their relationship. As they reminisce about university life, Les Bas and old memories such as Braddock alias Thorne, Jenkins realizes things have changed, just as things changed between Stringham and Templer. Jenkins even admits, "I knew now that this parting was one of those final things that happen, recurrently, as time passes. "(229) The friendship situations between Stringham, Templer and Jenkins seem inevitable to turn out the way they did. Templer and Stringham come from completely different backgrounds, have different plans for life, and surround themselves with different groups of people. Similarly, Jenkins and Stringham no longer share similar ideals and ambitions. Just as in real life, people tend to associate with those with common goals as themselves. As Jenkins simply put it, "the path had suddenly forked." |
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Cassidy Carpenter Jenkins of A Question of Upbringing by Anthony Powell is an unusually passive narrator. Instead of asserting himself in the story, it appears that in most cases he is merely a spectator of his life. He writes with over twenty years hindsight which allows his to omit and exaggerate certain memories which he finds most appealing. Though the reader must rely on his narration, it seems odd that his passivity is common place through out the novel. The only way Jenkins asserts his opinion is when commenting on the appearance and actions of others. His first impression of every character is based on his feeling at that moment, which changes with every situation. During lively moments, such as the Braddock Alias Thorne incident, Jenkins chooses to remain uninvolved. The only two times where Jenkins asserts himself are when he asks for his seat on the train from England to France, and when confessing his false-love for Madame Dubission. Beyond these two times, Jenkins does not involve himself in the story of his life. His reserved characteristics lend itself to detailed observations of the world around him, forcing the reader to interpret and analyze his opinions. During the Braddock alias Thorne incident where it would have been easy for Jenkins to take charge in the action, he chose to sit back and let the event happen around him. Jenkins does not express a single reaction when Stringham breaks the news that he called the police on La Bas. The conversation bounces easily between Stringham and Templer right passed the reserved Jenkins. He passively observes their excited conversation, "[Templer] `Is this a joke,' [Stringham] `Yes,' `Where did you tell them to look,' `In the field beyond the railway line.,' `Why?,' `Set your mind to it.,' `Le Bas,' `Neat, wasn't it?" ( Powell 45). Even when there are times for him to interject he allows the moment to pass by. This type of narration gives the reader Jenkin's personal perspective while in the situation but his actions are more as a third person narrator in the way he is removed from the story. There are two examples throughout the entire first novel that show Jenkins acting in an assertive manner. First is during his train ride from England to France. It took the sour wine and crowded train to create a "throbbing in [his] head so intense" that he made up his mind to "eject the man with the beard" (Powell 107). He briefly argued with the man and reclaimed his seat. This was the first act of true assertiveness on Jenkin's part throughout the book. He could have easily let the uncomfortable moment sustain itself but chose to take a stand for what was rightfully his. It was the influence of poor wine and the over stimulation of the train which took him beyond his comfort zone enough to demand his place back. It is not until later in France under the sway of lustful young love which pushes Jenkins to establish himself once again. Under the impression that he was going to meet Suzette in the summer house, he practiced lines in French to confess that she is why his "visit to the Grenadière seem so romantic" (165). Once approaching the woman sitting under what use to be Suzette's hat, Jenkins soon realized that it was in fact Madame Dubuisson. At that point he realizes that, "It was not too late to retreat. I had prepared a few sentences to express my feelings, and I was already half-way through one of them. Having made the mistake, there was nothing for it but to behave as if it were indeed Madame Dubuisson" who the lines were intended for (Powell 164-165). Instead of a swift apology and steady retreat as would be expected from Jenkins, he chooses to follow through despite his mistake. He stands up for himself in a very uncomfortable situation contrasting his typical choices. These two examples show the gradual development of Jenkins character into more than just a passive observer. It is unusual for a narrator of such a long book to remain so reserved in the recitation of his own life story. The only advantage that this type of narration gives the reader is a detailed description and analysis of each character and their interactions with others. It is in these descriptions where Jenkins is able to pass his judgment on those around him, through his assessment seems to change each time he sees the chracter. This is most obviously true with Widmerpool. Jenkins first sees Widmerpool coming out of the mist waving his arms and legs awkwardly, Stringham immediately jumps into an imitation of his gawky walk. At this first appearance of Winderpool Jenkins as an unprecedented reaction: "from an unreasoning fear of the embarrassment that would be caused me if Widmerpool should look back and himself observe Stringham's agitated pantomime, I persuaded him to stop this improvisation" (38). In this instance Jenkins feels an urge to stand up for a defenseless classmate. This is surprising when Jenkins is barely able to assert is own opinion on things in front of Stringham and Templer. Jenkin's first reaction to Widmerpool is to protect him, but this attitude changes on their next meeting outside of school. When Jenkins runs into Widmerpool at his stay in the Grenadière he approaches him with his original impression of a socially inept school boy. Jenkins soon finds that Widmerpool is exceedingly opinionated and self-confident. Widmerpool begins by making harsh criticisms about Stringham and Templer as if he knew them. This leads Jenkins to find "Widmerpool's remarks in this vien so tiresome that I was almost inclined to try and shock him;" though Jenkins decides that it would be "beneath my dignity to discuss his family affairs with someone who, like Widmerpool, knew of them only by hearsay. In this instance his opinion of Widmerpool completely changes. Though Jenkins tends not to react to situations that would normally elicit a response, certain moments such as these, move him to defend those who are not there. If these situations had been in reverse, Jenkins would not have prevented Stringham's improvisation of Widmerpool. His alliances easily change with a single rude encounter, constantly modifying how Jenkins, and in turn the reader, perceives each character. Though Jenkins is generally a passive narrator it is apparent through these examples that is character is growing. Jenkins is rarely directly assertive but instead takes a passive aggressive role. Jenkins opinion is only clear through his critical commentaries of characters. When he feels that a character is being misrepresented he will stand up for them, though he is careful not to offend the instigator of criticism. His roundabout way of asserting his opinion entices the reader to trust his judgment of those around him. Though Jenkins is an atypical narrator, his character is evolving to become more assertive. Jenkins passive style is engaging because it makes the reader question his opinions leading to a well-rounded view of each scene and character. |