264
EDWARD MARCOTTE
architecture that have nothing to do with character or the move–
ment of the story.
But what part does setting ordinarily play in fiction? In his
popular book
Aspects of the Novel,
E. M. Forster has whole sec–
tions on "People," "Story," "Plot," and even "Prophecy." But he
seems to consider setting of so little importance as an "aspect" of
the novel that he hardly mentions it at all. (One is sure to find
chapters on setting in manuals on the craft of fiction writing, but
this is from the point of view of mechanics; in this context, the
status and necessity of setting are taken as assumed.) As Mary
McCarthy points out in her essay "One Touch of Nature," for the
nineteenth-century novelist the presentation of setting, or scenic
description, was just as primary a feature of the writer's craft as
the delineation of character or plot.
But the day has long passed since an author could feel free to
indulge in lengthy descriptive passages for their own sake. The
novel, as we understand it, is something primarily about character,
and it is that which captures our interest as readers. We cannot
imagine a novel written entirely about a landscape.
If
such fiction
were ever written it would be unreadable. A painting, conversely,
can represent a pure landscape, entirely without human forms.
Much of the world's painting, in fact, falls under this category.
Poetry, like painting, can occupy itself directly with setting. And
even a work of nonfiction, such as a collection of travel impres–
sions, can be made up of descriptions of landscapes and places .
It seems that because the novel, in attesting to the linearity
of our orientation, is essentially a vehicle of action, of an historical
dynamic, comprised of events and conflicts unfolding in
time,
the
spatial dimensions in it become secondary. In this sense the novel
is precisely that form of representation for which spatial require–
ments are marginal; hence, though every novel must have a setting,
this circumstance is not considered of primary concern.
There exist ample reasons for thinking so. For example, it is
usually thought that most readers, at least most modern readers,
find long descriptive passages boring and tend to skip over them to
get back to the main action. That is why novelists nowadays em–
ploy the technique of in terspersing this material with dialogue and
action. Moreover, the reader usually forms his own picture of
