An Intrusive Narrator and Other Musings

     While reading This Is How It Always Is I couldn't help but to notice the narrator. Instead of reading as a third person omniscient, a supposedly neutral disembodied voice that carries the narrative along, privy to the thoughts, feelings, and actions of all characters, I imagined this voice as an actual person in the story. Someone whose opinions and commentary always seemed to make it onto the page even if the situation didn't call for it. For example, on page 25, the narrator begins the passage telling the story of then Claude's conception and how it came at the end of a triumphant night for Rosie. All of the narration is straight forward except for the interruption where the narrator summarizes in their own words what the night is "or, if you prefer, severe denial and extreme delusion." This isn't a necessary detail, it adds nothing to the narration and simply restates the previous sentence with an air of judgement.

 
 In the past, an intrusive narrator, also known as narrative intrusion, was used by such writers as Emily Bronte and Charles Dickinson to make political commentary inside their texts. Considering time didn't seem to move as fast in the 18th century, this mode of commentary makes sense. In current today, however, it feels out of place. Especially here. The story is already a story within a story. We have Grumwald and the Princess who serve as stand-ins for Poppy/Claude's gender non-conformity, we have Penn who consistently edits and rewrites that story, and then we have the parent's story. It's a lot to keep track of; add onto it the narrative intrusion and it feels overwhelming.

I'm also left questioning the veracity of the narrator at times, too. While I don't question incidents of trans violence ever, the scene about a third through the book, just before the Adam-Walsh (which is a distracting name because I automatically think of Adam Walsh, John Walsh's sun) family decides to move for Poppy's safety seems too convenient. We briefly discussed stranger than fiction vs fiction in class the other night and here this scene just seems too...perfect. Especially coming on the heels of the incident with Nick's father. The narrator sees the incident and relays it perfectly through Rosie, but instead of coming as a news reporter or a cop breakdown, we see the scene play out in novel like real time. Had this come as a news report, etc, it would've felt less...structured, purposeful, a plot point that direly needed to be hit. It felt forced and too...perfect. 

The narrator's intrusion coupled with Frankel's end author note makes me wonder if this story is too perfect. I don't quite know how to explain this thought, but essentially does this story wrap up too neatly? And do we ever get Claude/Poppy's tale. Frankel says in her AN that she can't tell her daughter's story, she can only tell her own and that this is fiction. I wonder if this idealized tale is what she wishes would've happened with her own child because this story is very much so the ideal. Even when people react negatively to Poppy, the situation never seems...dire? I think Tongo's the only character in the story who, while being very Yoda about it, mentions the elephant in the room; Poppy's family is sheltering her from the world and very much so cramping her by trying to be supportive. They never let her be queer and non-conforming. So of course the answer to that is take her to Thailand.

I just...I'm not sure how I feel about this novel quite yet. I do know that it has a distinct tone, its narrator is intrusive, and there's a sort of whimsy to it, though. It solidly held my attention and brought on more questions for me (who gets to tell whose story? what are the tenents one must uphold in telling that story, etc.).