Narrative in W. Somerset Maughm's "Mr. Know-All"

Writing a short story is tricky. It is a juggling act. In five to seven pages, the author has to develop the characters, set out the plot, throw in some setting for mood and atmosphere, perhaps work in a symbol, create a theme for a story—and work in a narrative voice that will convey all of these things. One writing instructor I studied under said it’s like riding on a horse, blowing a trumpet, and juggling all at the same time. How can a person do it? I can’t exactly say, but I can suggest that it is narrative voice that accomplishes this, and a look at narrative voice and how to use it may help writers pull off the complexities of producing a successful short story.

Last time, my blog talked about "Fat," by Raymond Carver. This time I would like to look about a story that is tied with "Fat" for my favorite. It is a story I read in a Reader’s Digest book of short stories (it was not condensed, though) when I was visiting relatives and was bored. I thought the story was amazing and saw from the beginning that narrative voice stood out as the most remarkable feature of a remarkable tale.

The story of which I speak is "Mr. Know-All" by W. Somerset Maugham. It is the tale of a British traveler who has to share a room on a ship with a loud, obnoxious, "know-it-all" type.  The narrative  character is a stereotypical Brit:  quiet, reserved, slightly snobby, very private; his berth-mate, whom he thinks is an American but who turns out to be a British colonial, is just the opposite of these things. The stage is set for a conflict. Two opposite personalities are trapped on a passenger ship for a couple of weeks. The narrator’s antipathy is apparent from the onset. Here is the opening of the story:

I was prepared to dislike Max Kelada even before I knew him. The war had just finished and the passenger traffic in the ocean-going liners was heavy. Accommodation was very hard to get and you had to put up with whatever the agents chose to offer you. You could not hope for a cabin to yourself and I was thankful to be given one in which there were only two berths. But when I was told the name of my companion my heart sank. It suggested closed portholes and the night air rigidly excluded. It was bad enough to share a cabin for fourteen days with anyone (I was going from San Francisco to Yokohama), but I should have looked upon it with less dismay if my fellow passenger`s name had been Smith or Brown.

When I went on board I found Mr. Kelada`s luggage already below. I did not like the look of it; there were too many labels on the suit-cases, and the wardrobe trunk was too big. He had unpacked his toilet things, and I observed that he was a patron of the excellent Monsieur Coty; for I saw on the washing-stand his scent, his hair-wash, and his brilliantine. Mr. Kelada`s brushes, ebony with his monogram in gold, would have been all the better for a scrub. I did not at all like Mr. Kelada.

This long quotation is a brilliant set-up. Maugham punctuates the opening with negative phrases:  dislike, put up with, bad enough, did not like the look of it, did not at all like. He also indicates the snobbery of the narrator. He judges Kelada on his name. He sneers at the fact that he uses toiletries bought from the shelf (Coty products). He thinks his brush and comb look dirty. Maugham uses narrative voice to set up the conflict and let the reader know what a character is like. He is snobby. He is judgmental.

The story progresses. Mr. Kelada is a loud-mouth and a know-it-all. He talks incessantly. He thinks he can discourse on any subject whatsoever. You can’t avoid him. He dominates all conversations. People detest him and insult him by calling him "Mr. Know-All." He takes this title as a compliment.

During the course of the tale, the narrator encounters a lovely woman and her husband. He comments on how delicate and beautiful the woman is and also notes her modesty. Modesty, he says, shines her person and manner. And she is wearing a string of pearls. Kelada, we find out, is a pearl merchant and comments on how good the necklace looks because it is real. Mrs. Ramsey demurs and her husband says the pearls are culture (fake) pearls. An argument ensues. Kelada looks at the pearls through his jeweler’s glass, smiles, and is about to declare, on his authority as a gem merchant, that they are real.

Then he sees Mrs. Ramsey staring at him, wide-eyed, helpless, her fact so white the narrator says she looks as if she might faint. Realization strikes Kelada and he, the flaming egotist, says he was wrong. The pearls are not real. Everyone taunts and teases him for this. Mrs. Ramsey retires to her room with a headache.

  

                                                                                                        

from a film adaptation of "Mr. Know-All"

What we realize in the story is that Kelada is not Mr. Know-All; the narrator is. He thinks he knows everything but learns that Kelada is knowledgeable when he needs to be. Mrs. Ramsey is not modest—she has a boyfriend who has bought her a real pearl necklace. And the unnamed narrator is not such a good judge of character as he thinks he is. He changes. At the end of the story he asks the chastened Kelada (whose loud-mouth boasting almost ruined Mrs. Ramsey) if the pearls were real. He simply replies, "'If I had a pretty little wife I should not let her stay a year in New York while I went to Kobe.'" The narrator says, "At that moment, I did not entirely dislike Mr. Kelada." His English reserve provides some minor humor but he has learned his lesson, as has Kelada.

The story would not have succeeded so well without skillful narrative technique. In a mere six pages Maugham does the complicated juggling act and pulls it off magnificently. The key element in doing this is his brilliant manipulation of narrative.

We’ve looked at two first-person narrated stories. Can the same be done with third-person narration? Next time we will explore this in another of my favorite stories.

If you want to read "Mr. Know-All," the story is online here.

For your reading pleasure, and for some unique use of narrative text, read my novel, The Sorceress of the Northern Seas.

For more titles that make for good reading and great gifts, see my Writer's Page. You might like The Gallery, Strange Brew, or The Prophetess.