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Corey Simpson Yes, Uncle Giles is dead. Nick's trusty measuring stick for human fallibility has met his Maker, the eternal bane of the Jenkins clan will haunt them no more, and the family Trust is, at long last, safe; Captain Giles Jenkins has, to quote the immortal Bob Duport, "dropped off the hooks." He was a minor pest, true, but a consistent one; I find myself somewhat shocked at his sudden expiration, and I cannot help but feel that this was kind of a massive oversight on Myra Erdleigh's part. If she can't be relied upon to predict such a simple thing as death, then clearly no one is safe. Uncle Giles, rest in peace. I never liked you much, but I did rather expect Nick to show a little human emotion over your untimely demise. It isn't your fault you had a lousy horoscope, after all. In Anthony Powell's A Dance to the Music of Time, our narrator, Nick Jenkins, seems to be the only one in the world with any kind of-I hesitate to call it affection, but tolerance, at least, for his Uncle Giles (Myra Erdleigh's devotion seems downright heroic until one learns that she is the sole beneficiary of Giles' will). We know that Nick is not forthcoming with details about those he loves, so the fact that he is positively chatty about Uncle Giles ought to have tipped us off to his true feelings. Consider the situation: Nick has been sent, as the lone representative of the Jenkins family, to pay his last respects to an uncle who has fascinated him since he was a boy. This man was a nomad, effectively alone in the world, despised by his own kin, and born under an unlucky conjunction of planets-by any standards, a sad story. And yet, as our narrator sorts through the few pathetic items that are the only indication his uncle ever lived and breathed, is he moved to tears? Does he think fondly of the Giles of old? Does he even feel the faintest passing sense of regret? Hardly. Nick Jenkins, our reticent and collected narrator, is practically giggling. Nick openly mocks the wording of the Officer's Commission that he finds in Giles' bag, even going so far as to say "Trusty and wellbeloved were not the terms in which his own kith and kin had thought of Uncle Giles for a long time now ... no doubt the Queen had been badly advised in the first instance. She must have been vexed and disappointed." (157) This is not one of his cold-blooded analyses of a character's flaws. This is not even his usual brand of subtle humor. Nick is, God help us, joking. At the expense of a family member. The mind boggles. I never thought that Nick saw Uncle Giles as a soul mate, of course, but I didn't think he would be quite so callously indifferent to his death, either. For the first few books, new characters were introduced and compared to Uncle Giles in almost the same breath. I always assumed Nick was using Giles as standard of measurement simply because he was convenient, familiar, and relatively uncomplicated, but in light of this new scene, I have to wonder if Nick merely wished to point out that almost anyone was better than his uncle. At the end of A Question of Upbringing, Nick is grateful for the opportunity to have dinner with Giles after being abandoned by Stringham, but even that is more the relief of a young man seeing a familiar adult face in the middle of a confusing new city than real affection. Towards the end of the passage, I was relieved to read what I thought was the beginning of remorse, "I could not help thinking at the same time that facile irony at my uncle's expense could go too far," (159) but alas, Nick only meant to note that his own impending military career was not as laughable as Giles'. Throughout this passage, Nick jokes at his uncle's expense the same way one would joke at the expense of a child who does not know any better and cannot defend himself, and in much the same way that General Conyers treats Giles at the beginning of the book. Perhaps this is another example of Nick following Conyers' lead, but that is another paper. More likely, Nick is just taking advantage of the opportunity to poke fun at a relative he never liked much anyway. And, while I cannot approve on principle, I can't say that I really blame him either. |
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Mike Donelan Gula, Superbia, Ira, Acedia, Avaritia, Invidia and Luxuria; the Seven Deadly Sins as they appear in Anthony Powell's The Kindly Ones. It is appropriate that Powell uses the middle book in his novel for an assessment of the characters the reader has met up to this point despite the fact that a number of significant characters are not at the party and thus, not receiving the analysis of Sir Magnus Donners as he assigns roles. The dinner represents the purest moment of comprehension as to how Powell wishes each character to be portrayed up to this point. Powell's characterization is demonstrated through Sir Magnus and it is accurate for some individuals, but for others, it is difficult to see why Powell assigned that particular sin to him or her. Perhaps the reason will be revealed in subsequent books, but we do have enough evidence to accurately assess the majority of the sins and their assignments. Sir Magnus divvies up the sins accordingly, asking Moreland to pose first with Gluttony. Moreland exhibits some symptoms that would suggest his Sin being appropriately allocated. While he is not overweight and there is no evidence of him eating excessive amounts of food at any point in the novel, it appears he has a wide encompassing knowledge of the menu at Casanova's Chinese Restaurant where Nick, "under Morelands's guidance ... embarked upon one of the specialties of the house."(CCR 31) This understanding of the menu suggests he may well wine and dine there too much, and after allotting the Sin to him, Sir Magnus says he "often hears you (Moreland) praise the pleasures of the table above all others." (KO 126) Furthermore, after the photograph is taken, Moreland "shall continue to act the Sin for the rest of the evening ... pouring out more Kümmel, this time into a tumbler." (KO 128) While this is only a quick comment and Sir Magnus continues dealing out the sins, it is exactly how Powell has shared insight with regard to other characters so far in the novel. Isobel is selected next for Pride choosing Anne Umfraville as a partner to help her act the part. We already know that Isobel can be "a bit of a highbrow when she isn't going out to night clubs" (ALM 19), according to Chips Lovell, even before we meet her, so right away Sir Magnus has chosen well in his assessment of her capabilities of acting with Pride. After they return from dressing themselves, Nick thinks "Isobel looked the personification of Pride." (KO 128) Isobel and Anne both come from very comfortable backgrounds, something Nick notes by saying they "displayed ... the abounding physical vitality of big aristocratic families, their absolute disregard for personal dignity ... never released ... so completely by any other class." (KO 128) Powell is able to reveal these characterizations through Nick as Nick believes both Isobel and Anne are perfect to represent Pride. For Anne Umfraville, or Lady Anne Stepney as she is known earlier in the novel, representing Anger does not appear well founded. We know little to nothing about her character; only that she is the former wife of Dicky Umfraville and the two of them never got along, mainly because she was much younger than he. When Nick and Ted Jeavons meet by chance while Ted is on one of his pub crawls they end up going to Dicky's club. It is here that Ted says Anne was "Badly brought up. Been taken down a peg or two, I hope. Bad luck on Eddie Bridgnorth to have a girl like that. Done nothing to deserve it." (ALM 182) There is a possibility that gossip like this has reached her ears and has made her into an angry person, but Nick has no first hand experience that gives any insight as to why she would be considered by Sir Magnus an angry person. Perhaps Powell is foreshadowing an event that will involve Anne and Isobel where she will be performing similar violent actions such as "Anger provoked by Pride" (TKO 129) but up until this point there is no concrete reason behind giving Anne Anger. Nick's interpretation of Sloth goes very much unnoticed, which is not surprising as much of what Nick does throughout the novel is not analyzed deeply. This is one of the Sins that Sir Magnus seems to assign by default, as it is the final Sin to be allotted and thus Nick has no say in representing any other. However, there is some validity to this assignment despite the fact that Sir Magnus is sure the sin is "quite inappropriate" (KO 127) and there are "no personal implications" (KO 127) There are some people who feel Nick's profession as a screenwriter is a rather pathetic excuse for a job. Another more recent example of Nick's laziness is his struggle to procure a post in the Army now that World War II is upon England. The conversation he has with Widmerpool is revealing, as we know Widmerpool does not hold back from speaking his mind. "`The fact is, you ought to have joined the Territorials before war broke out.' `There were difficulties in age.' `Only after you'd left it too late…Never mind. Think how long I've been a Territorial officer. You should have looked ahead.'" (KO 220) Widmerpool is openly critical of Jenkins and his laziness, so while Sir Magnus did not think too much of giving Nick Sloth, Powell was subtly delivering a message revealing his true thoughts about Nick, perhaps giving us insight to a side of Powell's life he didn't want many people to see. Matilda Wilson represents her sin better than any other. She is in a position to envy and be envied. She was once the mistress of Sir Magnus Donners, a position where one can reap hefty benefits both financially and socially. Now that Anne Umfraville fills that role, it is evident that Matilda is envious of her: "She stood absolutely upright, her face contorted. The glance, inasmuch as it was canalized seemed aimed ion the direction of Anne Umfraville." (KO 130) Her look at Anne can be seen as a direct channeling of her envy: "Matilda was less prepared to accept Anne Umfraville." (TKO 129) She had also "draped herself in a long green robe..." (KO 129) because she is envious of Anne. The robe that is draped over her shoulders can also be to attract attention to her; making people envious of her. She is, after all, a professional actress with "a reputation to sustain." (KO 129) Nick states that the temperature of the room changed, becoming colder, as she was posing for her photograph. She wants everyone to be drawn to her, for after her picture is taken "There was some clapping. There appeared to be no other way of bringing Matilda back to earth." (KO 130) At the very least Matilda has succeeded in making the members of the party envious of her, but at the same time, she has shown some envy of her own, for the position Anne holds with Sir Magnus. Betty Templer portrays Greed next but at first it seems there is no real reason for her to represent this Sin. Sir Magnus seems to assign this one by default as well, as to not lay too much of a burden on her, but she really does a good job portraying Greed. She is very soft spoken, and does not require much attention, although it is clear that she wants more from Templer than she gets. She is greedy for his affection and attention, not in a lustful, sexual sense. He spends more time flirting with other women and giving them his attention rather than interacting with her. Her eventual breakdown demonstrates a sort of frustrated Greed. If there was a person to represent their respective sin as well as Matilda represents Envy, it is Peter Templer and Lust. Nick immediately notes that Templer had "now entirely thrown off the distant, almost formal air he had shown earlier in the day. He was more like himself when I had known him years before." (KO 131) This being the Templer who returned to his dormitory late after a weekend in London, claiming he has spent an afternoon with a tart, during his teenage years none-the-less, which he later backed up with a story. He is clearly enjoying all the attention because it is making him feel young again, bringing him back to perhaps what he feels as his finer days. Anthony Powell, while usually using Nick as his main character for sharing his characterizations and messages, instead uses Sir Magnus Donners to bring certain characteristics to light. The Seven Deadly Sins are the ultimate form to reveal each character's flaws and Powell masterfully uses Sir Magnus to reveal each character's tendencies to succumb to the wickedness of Sin. |
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James Seman During The Kindly Ones, Nick and Isobel go to a party where they dress up and portray two of the seven deadly sins: Sloth and Pride respectively. Through this book, as well as the others, Nick rarely talks about things and people that are extremely close to him. This reticence extends to talking about his relationship with his wife. Yet, during this one scene, Powell reveals more of Nick and Isobel's personality. Nick's assigned sin is Sloth. As Sir Magnus says: "I fear there is nothing left for you [Nick] but Sloth. There are, of course, no personal implications, I am sure it is quite inappropriate…" (127). Sir Magnus, a good judge of character, thinks that Nick is not lazy. However, being lazy is not quite the same as Sloth. Nick's own interpretation of Sloth is a little bit clichéd: "My own enactment of Sloth required not histrionic ability beyond lying on the table supported by piles of cushions" (129). Nick is not a naturally slothful person, and thus his impression of Sloth is a clichéd version. Although adequate, this interpretation lacks a certain, deliberate avoidance of exertion that is true Sloth. In fact, Nick is quite an active person, and tends to deal with life as it comes, including dealing with Uncle Giles death later in the book: "I found myself charged with that duty. There was, indeed, no one else to do the job" (147). Nick takes on the duty of overseeing his uncle's estate with a sort of vigor, similar to how he approaches all of life. This conflict between Nick's assigned sin and his real attitude towards life creates the humor evident while Sir Magnus is taking pictures of the seven deadly sins. Isobel's assigned sin is Pride. She is, after all, from a fairly prominent family, as her father was Lord Warminster. However, she is not the least bit prideful: "Here, before us, in these two [Isobel and Anne], was displayed the nursery and playroom life of generations of 'great houses'..." (129). Isobel's interpretation of Pride is a rather childish interpretation, a sort of playacting, because she does not know exactly what Pride is. Powell shows that although Isobel grew up in a "great house" she does not actual exhibit any pride about it. Ironically, it is actually Nick who exhibits pride about Isobel: "that passionate return to childhood, never released so fully in any other country, or, even in this country, so completely by any other class" (129). Nick is both envious of his wife's upbringing, and proud of his relationship with her. This rare glimpse into Nick's subconscious shows us just how much he is in love with her. In revealing some more of Nick and Isobel's personality, Powell also urges the reader to think about Nick and Isobel's relationship and how it relates to their sins. Nick and Isobel's relationship is very strong, as they stay together until the end of the series. The assignment of their sins, as well as their interpretations of these sins reflects a little bit of their relationship. First of all, the sins themselves are, compared to the other ones, fairly harmless. Powell is arguing that these two sins are related to each other, in much the same way that Nick and Isobel are. Therefore, Pride and Sloth share an intimate bond, and it is rare to have one and not the other. Pride can cause Sloth, and Sloth can instill a sort of Pride at the same time. The relationship between these sins show Powell's own opinion about the sins: that these two sins are linked together forever. |
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Cassidy Carpenter Throughout A Dance to the Music of Time Anthony Powell's life has been a basic model for the events experienced by Nick Jenkins. When we finally meet Nick's family after five novels the characters of Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins are an obvious nod to Powell's own parents. The similar family life and living conditions between Nick and Powell gives us greater insight into both of their characters. Though the information about both families is limited, we are given just enough information to make educated inferences to the experience of an early 20th century only-child of a military officer on the English countryside. Powell's father, Philip Lionel Powell, was an army infantry officer who rose to the rank of Colonel and company commander in World War I (Understanding AP 1). After the war he received honors of Commander of the British Empire and Distinguished Service Officer (1). His mother, Maud Wells-Dymoke, came from a family with "no exalted kings or princes in their history, but instead had parsons and squires… though young Powell might qualify by birth as one of the privileged classes, he began life pretty much on the fringes" (2). Growing up in a family of a respected military officer but without any genealogical status, Powell was humbled by his parent's modest position in society. These small facts are all that is known about the Powell family, even in his memoirs Powell gives little to no detail of the personalities of these important people in his life, not unlike Nick throughout The Dance. We know that in the Victorian period fathers were typically remote and mothers in charge of ordering the help to maintain the house, but these vague generalizations and sparse facts about his mother and father are all of the details we are offered by Powell. Through Nick Jenkins we are able to get a better sense of the possible home life Powell experienced. We are given the most detail about his father, a military officer who was present at peace talks at the end of WWI. Due to his involvement in the military he was "saddled with the equally serious military- indeed, also civilian -handicap of chronic inability to be obsequious to superiors in rank" (KO 36). This feeling of chronic inferiority may have contributed to his melancholy persona. In turn, he was painfully sensitive to criticism and "had little to no aptitude for sport of any sort and his health was not good… he disliked not only books, but also people- even places -that threatened to [make him think]" (37).. He had an "absolute passion for power" though he was never in a particular position to wield it, "in his own house he was the only one allowed to criticize" (38). Nick's inability to express critical opinions among his family may be the sole reason his novels are compilation of events and other's observations, all generally excluding a critique from Nick. This character trait is already expressed in Nick's childhood as when he recounts the name and family standings of those children he is tutored with. Nick's mother is seemingly removed from particular influence within the family. Her sole duty is that of the typical Victorian woman within the home. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins' relationship was agreeably bound to "a life entirely enclosed by their own domestic interests" (23). The Jenkins' marriage is steady and loving like the Powell's and the details given in The Kindly Ones help paint a better picture of Powell's experience. The only way Powell was able to write about his father in a true sense was in a fictional character for fear of offending him. In his writing of A Dance to the Music of Time he is still unable to be critical of others and relies on his tendency to "go into matter thoroughly," as commented by General Conyers (KO 51). Though neither Powell or Nick's families were able to provide them with exceeding wealth or social standing, their childhood experiences cultivated in them a conspicuous attention to detail with a Victorian reserve that indeed became their "secret of success in life" (KO 51). Source: Understanding Anthony Powell. Nicholas Birns . University of South Carolina Press, 2004. |
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Nicole Lee As we have come across many character models in A Dance to the Music of Time, such as Constant Lambert for Hugh Moreland and George Orwell for Lord Warminster, it can only be assumed that Anthony Powell himself is a model for the narrator, Nick Jenkins. This becomes especially clear in The Kindly Ones, as Powell finally reveals Nick's childhood through flashbacks and details about his parents. Many aspects of Powell's early life prove to be reflected in some way to Nick's experiences as a child. First off, Powell's parents bear striking resemblances to Nick's parents in their mannerisms and way of life. Powell's mother "above all things detested having attention drawn to herself, even in a complimentary manner." Likewise, Nick's mother does not enjoy "going out" and has a great distaste for officers' wives, or `regimental' ladies.(22) She stays to herself and seems rather reserved from what we know of her in the novel. Mrs. Powell and Mrs. Jenkins also both share a common belief in occultism. Powell's mother always showed a slight interest in divination as he stated in his memoirs, "my mother possessed none of her sisters and mother in laws fortune telling flair, although in her younger days she had no opposition to the Occult and its byways. She retained a life long interest in Christian science." Similarly, in The Kindly Ones, Jenkins describes how "my mother- together with her sisters in their unmarried days- had always indulged a taste for investigation of the Unseen World.(5)" Powell's grandmother was also much devoted to such pursuits as occultism and fortune-telling. All of this exposure to the Occult as a child offers a possible explanation of all the references to divination in A Dance to the Music of Time, particularly in The Acceptance World when the characters play Planchette and Mrs. Erdleigh brings out her fortune-telling cards. Just as Powell's mother resembles Nick's, his father can be related to the character of Nick's father. For six years during his early childhood, Powell's father was posted to the Kensington Regiment, a London battalion of the Territorial Army. During this time, their family lived in a flat in Kensington. In 1913 his father rejoined the regiment at Aldershot, and the family moved to Stonehurst. In the novel, Jenkins' father is also involved in the war and stationed at Aldershot. Inevitably, a job in the military comes with a military lifestyle, which both Powell's and Jenkins' parents also successfully survive. Anthony Powell sums this up in his memoirs writing: "my parents' marriage was a wholehearted success." In the Dance, before marriage, Nick's mom was "keen enough on parties and balls, but, my father, having little or no distaste for such amusements, she forgot about them herself, then developed greater dislike than his own.(22)" However, Nick's father does have a character flaw that "Happy marriage did not cure.(37)" The idea for this flaw probably originated from the elder Mr. Powell's personality, who is said to possess an untranquil temperament, having rows and showing himself difficult at many times. Nick's father apparently shares this characteristic as he mentions in the novel, "my father would sometimes rebel against this aggressive, even contagious, depression- to which he himself was no stranger- and then there would be a row. (12)" He feels that "all tragedies are major tragedies…especially if he himself is in any way concerned.(27)" It is clear that Powell used many observations of his own parents to create Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins. Just as the characters in the dance are modeled on Powell's actual life, the places are as well. In particular, Stonehurst is not an imaginary place, but rather a large, furnished bungalow where Powell spent many of his childhood years. He also notes memories of the appearances of a cult leader who ran past the gates from time to time with his followers, similar to Dr. Trelawney. Powell even states, "We lived in a large bungalow of Indian type, let furnished, its situation on the top of a lonely hill, surrounded by heather, gorse, pines, sandy hollows skirted with bracken. A fairly close description of the bungalow appears in my novel, in which the house is called Stonehurst." One last parallel that can be drawn from Powell's life to the occurrences in the novel is the ghost incident. In his memoirs, Powell tells how his own mother encountered ghosts at Stonehurst. Their family owned many animals, many of which slept on her bed. He explains, "one night, my mother awakened by the thud of a smallish animal jumping on her bed… however, the thing landed near the foot of the bed and slowly worked its way up, until pressing down the bedclothes just below her neck. This visitation took place several times." When we begin The Kindly Ones, we learn of the ghosts immediately, as they are "a recognized feature of Stonehurst.(4)" Nick narrates, "my mother admitted to a recurrent sense, sometimes even in the day, of an uncomfortable presence in her bedroom ...; at night, she had waked once or twice overwhelmed with an inexplicable feeling of doom and horror.(4)" As talk of ghosts was not curtailed in Nick's childhood, it is not surprising to find these references in The Kindly Ones. Anthony Powell uses much of his own life as a model for the plot in The Dance To the Music of Time. The details of Powell's life are, as might be expected, very substantially the same as Nick Jenkins's. An examination of Powell's memoirs reveals that much of the narrator's childhood is in fact drawn from Powell's life. Sources: Brooke Allen. "The Unauthorized Anthony Powell." http://newcriterion.com:81/archive/23/sept04/powell.htm John Potter. "The Novelist and His Narrator: Anthony Powell and Nicholas Jenkins." http://www.anthonypowell.org.uk/reflib/narrator.pdf Anthony Powell. To Keep the Ball Rolling: The Memoirs of Anthony Powell. |
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Paul McCarthy Anthony Powell's A Dance to the Music of Time sequence cannot properly be described without mentioning its use of ancient references. Seemingly, every scene in The Dance is peppered with similes and images from the ancient world. Even the name of the series is taken from a classical painting featuring personifications of the Four Seasons, dressed in traditional Roman clothing. However, as rampant as the references are in the first five books, Powell takes it to an extreme in The Kindly Ones. There is, of course, the fact that the book's title is taken from the Greek gods, the Eumenides, but "The Kindly Ones" takes the ancient theme to a new level: it actually casts its characters into situations from classical literature. One example of this is Dr. Trelawney, who, besides being a very strange person, shows many traits associated with ancient prophets, including a very prophetic conversation he has with Nick and Duport. This characterization of Trelawney as a prophet, along with other ancient allusions, work to accentuate the fact that an epic war is coming very soon. Classical prophets tended to be very reclusive. For the most part, they lived outside of society, on mountains or in sanctuaries, and were not allowed to come down. An example of this was the oracle at Delphi, who lived in a mountainside sanctuary. Also, there was always a great deal of fear when it came to prophets, because they were powerful enough to converse with the gods. That power bred a lot of anxiety and, at times, even contempt. Dr. Trelawney certainly fits the description of a recluse. When we first see him, he's in charge of a religious commune in the same town as Nick's childhood house. He is regarded in part as a visionary, but also as a fake. "...there remained an unbridgeable margin of doubt as to whether he was a holy man-at least a very simple and virtuous one-whose unconventional behaviour was to be tolerated, even applauded, or a charlatan ..." (KO, pg. 29) Trelawney produces the same sort of reaction in others that prophets once did: somewhere between admiration and contempt. Also, when we first meet him, Trelawney lives in a commune, isolated entirely from the outside world, much like prophets were. And even when he leaves the commune, he moves into the Bellevue, an out of the way seaside inn. He chooses to stay on the outskirts of English society, rather than moving to London or somewhere more central. Trelawney also matches up with classical prophets in the way he delivers prophecies. The Delphic oracle, for example, was basically drugged, and then she would shout things out, and priests would interpret these cries and write them down as prophecies. Most of these prophecies, since they were coming from someone high on drugs, were not very coherent. They were often filled with ancient references and riddles that had to be deciphered and then interpreted. Despite this, according to Romans and Greeks, the prophets were rarely, if ever, wrong. Trelawney, like the prophets, seems to be reliant on drugs. When he gets stuck in the Bellevue bathroom, he yells to call Mrs. Erdleigh, and for her to bring his pills. "I must have my pills!" he says. (KO, 184) And later, as he's lying in bed, talking with Nick and Duport, his speech is very prophetic, laced with ancient references to "the sword of Mithras" and "the slayer of Osiris." When asked the very direct question of whether World War II was avoidable, he responds with a riddle, "...the future is ever the consequence of the past." (KO,192) Beyond all of these basic similarities, there's the fact that Trelawney's predictions come true. Just before World War I, he says "the portents are unfavourable. There is no doubt of that." (KO, 65) And, in his prophecy to Duport and Nick before World War II, he says "The Angel of Death will ride the storm," and "The god, Mars, approaches the earth to lay waste." (KO, 192) In other words, Trelawney is saying there will be war, and, obviously, he is proven right in both instances. There is one more characteristic Trelawney shares with ancient prophets: like Tiresias in the Oedipus cycle or the Cumaean Sibyl in the Aeneid, he is a larger than life characters who only become important in everyday affairs to signal that something bad is about to happen. He appears twice in the entire series: once right before each world war, and then he disappears from Nick's life entirely. In that sense, he is tied in very closely to the concept of war. There are other examples of the ancient tied in with war in The Kindly Ones. On page 199, Nick is haunted by a dream of Trelawney in an army uniform the night Russia and Germany sign a non-aggression pact. This kind of thing happened a lot in Greco-Roman literature. In the Aeneid, for example, Aeneas is haunted by the spirit of Hector minutes before the Greeks invaded Troy. And, more generally, the Kindly Ones, after whom the book is named, are the Greek harbingers of death and war. By putting these particular references into "The Kindly Ones," Powell emphasizes World War II as a massive, historic struggle, causing the same sorts of disturbances that the Trojan War did, for example, with Nick's dream sequence. That emphasis, along with the emphasis all the characters have placed on the coming war, throws the focus of the entire novel onto World War II. The Kindly Ones, then, basically acts like a movie trailer, a preview of coming attractions, so to speak, for the grand and epic struggle to come. |
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Jimmy Yang We would like to think that Nick Jenkins is a trustworthy narrator. Throughout A Dance to the Music of Time, his relative detachment from the events he relates seems to indicate that he is unbiased toward the other characters in the story. He even seems to willingly omit information about characters that he cannot tell us about in an unbiased fashion, such as his wife and parents. In The Kindly Ones, however, we notice one character that Nick seems to dislike too unreasonably to provide an unbiased opinion. In the third chapter, Nick meets Bob Duport again for the first time since the first book in the series. Back when we first met Duport, it was clear that Nick did not like him very much, since he was also after Jean. In most other respects, however, he seems similar to Nick's friend Peter Templer. Even Nick himself makes note of this similarity. "[Duport] had that indefinable air of being up to no good that characterized Peter himself." (QU, 191) It seems reasonable therefore, that since Nick is no longer in love with Jean, that his impression of Bob might improve. However, when Nick meets Duport again at the Bellevue, we find that this is not the case. Nick seems to hate him as much as ever. From the beginning, we have seen the similarities between Duport and Templer. Both are stockbrokers who are interested in material things like "fast sports car[s], loud checks, blonds, [and] golf." (KO, 99) While Templer complains about the state of Duport's marital affairs, Templer's own marriages have not fared much better than Duport's. Though Templer's marriage might not have been plagued by affairs, Duport's marriage lasted much longer than Templer's before a divorce. Upon seeing Duport again in the Bellevue, Nick makes a comment that he "[did] not like the way Duport behaved." (KO, 163-164) This seems odd, since much of his behavior is quite similar to what we have seen from Peter Templer in the past. Both of them show very little interest in Nick's writing career, or anything else highbrow. They also, unlike Nick, seem to have a rather skeptical view of the spiritual. Templer treats the Planchette board as sort of a joke, and Duport seems to take quite lightly Dr. Trelawney's talk of "the sword of Mithras…flash[ing] from its scabbard." (KO, 192) All in all, there seems very little in Duport's behavior that might offend Nick that is not part of Templer's behavior as well. We know that Nick has a history with Duport which is undoubtedly one reason that Nick's vision is so colored. He even says himself that "although I loved [Jean] no longer, our relationship had secreted this distasteful residue, an unalterable, if hidden, tie with her ex-husband." (KO, 163) Still, it seems that Duport does not deserve the loathing that he receives from Nick. It is not he that took Jean away from Nick, but in some ways, the other way around. Duport at the very least might be entitled to some sympathy from Nick, especially when the conversation turns to Jean's many affairs. When Nick finds out about her affair with Jimmy Brent, all he can focus on is his own surprise. "I felt as if someone had suddenly kicked my legs out from under me, so that I had landed on the other side of the room, not exactly hurt, but thoroughly ruffled, with all the breath knocked out of me." (KO, 178) The only feeling remotely resembling sympathy from Nick is his momentary urge to tell Duport about his own affair, but that is quickly silenced by other thoughts. There is another possibility for the difference between Nick's views of Peter and of Bob. Perhaps it is not that Nick dislikes Duport much more than he ought, but that he likes Templer more than he should. Nick and Peter have a shared history, and a friendship (or what remains of one) that has built up over many years. Even when he first knew Templer at Eton, Nick was unsure about whether he liked him, since Templer's "boast that he had never read a book for pleasure in his life did not predispose me in his favor." (QU, 8) Nick was with Templer for the Old Boy dinner, and he was the one who introduced Templer to J.G. Quiggin, whom Templer's first wife, Mona, would leave him for. Nick has watched the ups and downs in Templer's life, and perhaps his sympathy for him comes from years of acquaintance, which cannot be substituted, in Duport's case, with several minutes in a bar. Perhaps it is in Nick's nature to hold a grudge. It seems just as well that if our narrator's memories last as long as they do, his grudges, or his sympathies, might last for a long time as well. Just as Nick's past affair with Jean sours his relationship with Duport, so do his memories with Templer improve Nick's impression of him. One thing is for certain: though he may seem reliable on many occasions, we see from his opinion of Bob Duport that Nick is not always a perfect narrator, and perhaps in the future, we may need to take some of his opinions with a grain of salt. |