Using Multiple Narrators

By Sharon May

When I started my novel, I didn’t know the story I wanted to tell. Was it the story of burying the bones or the story of finding the bones?  If it was the former, was the setting 1942 or 1978? Or both? If it was of finding the bones, was it the story of who buried the bones, or the story of the reporters who attempt to uncover the truth about the bones? I decided I wanted to tell the story of what happens in the lives of the characters once the bones are found. One narrator could not tell that story. So I began writing with two narrators, Lafe and Preston, two men who are as different as a Saint Bernard and a Chihuahua. I chose first person because of its immediacy and intimacy, but also because both narrators have secrets and live much of their lives alone.

At this point, I found it easy to meet the first rule of multiple narrators: the reader must be able to open the text at any place and immediately identify the narrator of that section. Narrators, like all characters, must be different in language, tone, and cadence. They must be true to themselves in what they say and how they say it.

I finished a draft with two narrators, but was not satisfied. With the help of an editor experienced with Appalachian literature, I realized two narrators told the story of the bones, but not the story of life in Appalachia so I began adding narrators.

This decision complicated the writing. Obviously, each narrator must sound different from the others. With two narrators, I could alter chapters. Now I have to determine the order of the narrators’ chapters to tell the story coherently and cohesively. There are lots of options of who speaks next. I don’t want repeated events, unless different perspectives on the events add to the readers’ understanding. Also, I have to decide who should tell what. Sometimes, only one narrator knows of an event, and the choice is logical. However, shared experiences creates choices, and it is difficult at times to know which narrator is the right one for a scene.

                                                                                                            

Now I have no idea how many narrators I will use to tell the story of small town life in Appalachia in 1978, a time of change and of what some call progress. With multiple narrators comes layers of complexity, conflict, and theme, I can’t help to think my story will be like an Apple Stack Cake, which has many layers (the thinner the better, the more the better), all separated by dried apples or applesauce. As the cake ages, the taste of apples seeps into the layers, creating one heavenly treat. A woman who makes this cake nowadays is a rare find. She, like a lot of my culture, is dying, and I would like to preserve at least some of my memories of that culture in a novel.