lobster45
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Pride and Pulp: A Comparative Analysis of the Character Construction in Pride and Prejudice and Pulp Fiction
-Introduction-
1813 Meets 1994
Had Jane Austen ever gotten the chance to meet Quentin Tarantino, I have no doubt he would have appeared in one of her stories. Not only because Ms. Austen was well-known for placing people she had met or knew in her own life into the characters—wholly, partially, or otherwise—of her novels, but also because I believe she would have found him a wholly engrossing, if a crude and at times both shocking and banal, popular personality.
Likewise, if Mr. Tarantino had ever the opportunity to encounter Ms. Austen in person, most ideally at the height of her youth and artistry, though no less ideally at any other time in her adult life, I am equally convinced to perhaps an even greater degree than the other example before that he would have cast her into a role that would have cemented her, immediately and eternally, into the cinematic annals of American pop culture.
These two figures will never meet, and that makes me quietly sad.
For as oppositional as they may appear to be, after engaging with their respective works, I am moved, and more than that, I am convinced that they—one currently, another soon to be in time—have, do, and will for years to come, occupy an important cultural office. Maybe not one of total and shining reverence, or of celebrated, unbridled genius, or of honored technical commitment to craft—though an argument can certainly be made that both Austen and Tarantino possess these qualities and more in spades.
No, rather, their occupation is one of fun and humble work. It is that of the Author, a character as much as they are a person, a totalizing force as much as they are an atomic subject, a master and servant to their world and ours—ultimately, an artist of unparalleled range, scope, separation, and humanity, true, fun, light-of-touch and yet affirmational humanity, that few artists ever truly achieve in their work, much less their life.
Are Austen and Tarantino the greatest artists to ever live?
No. They are not.
But their relationship and their type, as illustrated in their work, bears examination, as they do not approach it with the mind or heart of an artist, but of a person first, and a craftsman and craftswoman second.
In this essay, I will examine two scenes, one from Pride and Prejudice, the other from Pulp Fiction, and through a comparison of the scenes, the characters, the patterns, and the authors themselves—with help from a simple theoretical model I have thrown together—I will make to demonstrate not only how and why Jane Austen and Quentin Tarantino are similar figures, but why they are important, or at least simply worthy figures to take note of in the realm, past, present, and future, of our culture.
-The Model-
Before either story is examined and compared, it is necessary to detail the technique both employ that makes them each so memorable and, in the case of one and perhaps one day in the case of the other, timeless.
Both Pride and Prejudice and Pulp Fiction tell their stories on multiple levels at the same time, though in different ways. Despite the difference in use, the technique is still the same.
A note before continuing: most stories, good and bad, are told on multiple levels, often at least two—text and subtext. This analysis is not a proclamation of discovery nor an attempt to assert Jane Austen or Quentin Tarantino as visionary heralds in a new era of storytelling. Rather, it is meant first to demonstrate an interesting, observed connection in craftsmanship between an older work and a younger work; and second, using such a demonstrated connection, sketch out a sort of rough cartographic key that may find use as an asset/tool for later audiences, critics, and artists alike. Again, none of this is really new, and most all of it is obvious—but the author has not yet seen a piece or writing anywhere that discusses this subject, and would like to add what he can to the conversation, as banal as it may reveal itself in time to be.
The technique found in the Pride and Prejudice and Pulp Fiction emerges, when distilled into one form, as such:
Base
Story
Authoreal
Story
Authoreal
The terms "Base," and "Story," and, "Authoreal" are general by nature, as they're meant to encapsulate recurring storytelling phenomena the modern viewer/reader/listener may be well familiar with, even if they don't immediately recognize them. Therefore, other than the specific/contextual elements that individuate stories, it bears no severe or at least sinful analytical significance if the Base/Story/Authoreal framework is applied to the story, to the characters, to both, to some third piece, or to a combination of them and others. In the author's opinion, this framework is a basic pattern that is repeated across—perhaps not all—but certainly many stories. And though others before have described similar patterns, he finds it necessary to detail one that is simple and easy to determine for the modern person.
Note: the presence or knowledge of this technique does not connote a good story, and awareness of it does not at all grant one an all-access at-ease pass and ability to tell a good story. Much in the same way knowing a recipe does not grant one knowledge or ability to cook a meal that will taste good.
It is instead and again an observed framework, and an unestablished one at that. It is not meant to be taken singularly, and any good reader/watcher/listener/artist should possess a multitude of other works and theories with which they can compare and contrast this framework against.
Below is a condensed summary of each step in the framework:
- Base
- The archetypal mold, the grounding for the story or character or other.
- Ex: In Back to the Future, Marty McFly, before we see much of him, is immediately recognizable by his evident youth and how the camera—the story—follows him, as the prototypical teen and the archetypal protagonist. This much is obvious before we've seen less than a minute of him.
- The archetypal mold, the grounding for the story or character or other.
- Story
- The contextual shape of the story or character or other—namely, who or what they are and who or what we come to know them as an individual, as the story progresses.
- Ex: Marty McFly, as we come to know him, isn't exactly "cool". He's fidgety, sort of a dope, and very much in many ways still a kid. We learn he likes rock 'n roll, plays guitar, has a girlfriend, and rides a skateboard. Despite some of his cruder qualities, he's a good kid at heart, and we sympathize with him because he seems honest and well-intentioned.
- The contextual shape of the story or character or other—namely, who or what they are and who or what we come to know them as an individual, as the story progresses.
- Authoreal
- The part/element of the author and their life—hence the portmanteau of author and real—that is put into the fictive body of the story. This can be the most difficult to identify, as it's the most variable and at times indeterminate of the three, though one could make the argument it's the most important. Because of this, it is also and unfortunately, and often all at once, the most ignored, and the most ill-used element of the framework.
- Michael J. Fox developed Parkinson's Disease, a genetic illness known for manifesting early on as stuttering speech and what appears to be fidgeting behavior or simple unconscious tics—both small but noticeable aspects of Marty McFly's character and Fox's performance. Re-watching the film with this knowledge lends it, oddly, somewhat of a melancholic quality to both Marty McFly's character and the overarching story of a young man growing up. There is, arguably, in one sense or another, an almost tragic but endearing quality to the film and Fox's performance as such an archetypal figure of youth when we know what is going/perhaps was happening to him, and such knowledge makes us root for Marty/Michael even more.
- The part/element of the author and their life—hence the portmanteau of author and real—that is put into the fictive body of the story. This can be the most difficult to identify, as it's the most variable and at times indeterminate of the three, though one could make the argument it's the most important. Because of this, it is also and unfortunately, and often all at once, the most ignored, and the most ill-used element of the framework.
Again and finally, this is only an observation, and while observations can be critical and crucial points in any analytic process, they are in some way, ultimately subjective and therefore flawed and limited.
The author wants the reader to know he is well aware of this, and he asks for forgiveness if the propositioned framework appears provincial and really nothing more than the formulation of an obsessive personal fervor.
The author will now analyze Pride and Prejudice.
-Elizabeth and the Field-
To demonstrate the application of this model further, and to also perform the first part of this essay's comparative textual analysis, a scene from Pride and Prejudice will be examined and analyzed.
But first, a brief summary.
Pride and Prejudice was a novel written and published by Jane Austen in 1813. The book follows Elizabeth Bennett, the eldest sister of five others, who all live with their parents of above-average, though—relative to their class—modest, means in a small English country estate. Most of the book focuses on Elizabeth's relationship with Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, a young gentleman of great means and severe character, and the questions, problems, and insights the two of them and their clash of personalities arise and create throughout their knowing each other. Throughout the novel, themes of class, the social and personal relationships between men and women, and what it means to truly care for and love someone, are explored in Austen's trademark subtle and illustrative prose. It should be noted that, at the time, it would have been viewed as indecent for a woman to pursue writing as a serious interest, much less publication. For this reason, Austen's name did not appear on the first print of the novel, and her only source of feedback and critique were the members of her family, to whom she read her writing every night after dinner.
The subject matter of Austen's books is heavily and unsurprisingly inspired by the events and contents of her own life. Like Elizabeth, she was born to an upper class family of modest means; she was pursued and did pursue a variety of young gentlemen from different stations in life; and she—in some way or another—most likely felt alienated and isolated at times by the restrictions and expectations placed upon her by the contemporary culture of the time.
All these factors make Austen a fantastic subject for this comparative analysis and, in this author's opinion, a wonderful counterpart to Tarantino, and there is a particular scene early in Pride and Prejudice that serves to demonstrate as much.
In this scene, one of Elizabeth's sisters has fallen ill while visiting the estate of a man who has been calling on her. Elizabeth, hearing the news, is resolved to go at once to see to her sister's care. Her mother insists she wait for the family carriage—the Regency era equivalent of a beat-up, passed-around family car—to be prepared for her, as the walk is nearly over three miles of grass and muddy fields.
Elizabeth refuses and sets out for her sister.
"... Elizabeth continued her walk alone, crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatient activity, and finding herself at last within view of the house, with weary ancles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise." (Austen, pg. 33).
Now, beyond anything, the image alone of this small fragment is, in a way, wonderful; a young woman, most likely in full Regency dress, walking across miles of soggy green fields on a grey overcast day after a rain, all to see and be with her sick sister—beautiful. Beautifully written, beautifully imagined, and even if Austen herself never did something exactly like this, beautifully lived.
And it shows, in a small, crystallized form, both the ethos of Austen's work, and perhaps Austen herself.
Here is where the model becomes useful.
Base: A young, wealthy—relatively—noblewoman confined by structures beyond her control, and who seeks something further beyond what she knows. The archetypal princess.
Story: Elizabeth Bennett is witty, sensitive, thoughtful, at times both naive and cold, and extremely devoted and loving to and of her family.
Authoreal: Jane Austen grew up in a country estate, had to handle the strictures, achievements, and absurdities of Regency life, and was known to be both quiet at sometimes, and at others, witty and outspoken. Her life tracks much like Elizabeth's, and though her work may not mirror her life in a full and autobiographical sense, without some inclusion of some of herself, her work would lose some of its depth, and perhaps even her life would have suffered as well.
So, why is this important at all? Yes, of course Austen, like many writers, artists, and people, puts herself into her work. Why does that matter? What difference does it make?
To use what some may think is a crude and basic symbol—though this author finds to hold great utility and significance—let's use the idea of a plumbing company.
This company, just starting out, has learned from others past, and is seeking to make its way in the world and in its own industry. Now, this company is adept at what it does, honest, knowledgeable, trustworthy, professional—all the sterling qualities you could want for in a company, this one possesses. When it comes to their craft, they aren't just workmen, they are practically artists.
And yet, beyond the basic and local range of services they offer, they can do one more.
So they do. They make their own part.
This could be a new type of drain, or valve, or sewer rodding equipment, or kitchen faucet—whatever it is, they make it.
And it works.
Now, this can seem small—so what? It's just a piece of piping, or a tool that's used to clean sewer lines.
And this plain observation holds truth. In a way, that's all it is. Just another tool.
But underneath its trivial utility is a part of the people, and all they know, have learned, and experienced, all in that one part. And it works because of that and them. That part, which may one day keep a basement flood from wiping out family photo albums; that part, which will help keep city streets clean and nice for years to come, for everyone, anyone, who walks down them; that part, which may one day end up being where countless family dinners are scrubbed out under, a silent observer to the ceaseless flow of memories and time and people in a place—that part, like it or not, know it or not, see it or not, becomes, truly, a part of someone's life. All because a couple guys who liked playing with pipes and thought people could use something better got together, drew it up, and made it.
Austen's authoreal quality is her part. That's what she gives the story and her readers. Without her taking what she's known, experienced, and thought, and putting it, fashioning it, into some part of her story, Pride and Prejudice—one could perhaps make the argument that any great work of art—simply would not be.
And it is the recognition, and the ability to discern this part, that elevates stories like Austen's, and authors/artists/people like her who are able to accomplish this task, to something above the simply qualified and professional. It is her capacity for invention that distinguishes Austen and others like her from all the rest.
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