NONE SO BLIND
Classification. A story of situation, suggesting numerous small struggles. (See below.) It is a remarkable example of the multum in parvo management required of the short-story. The action requires a brief part of one day.
Plot. The impulse of the action lies in the telephone message announcing Bessie Lowe’s death.
The dramatic climax is in Dick’s perjury: his declaration that Bessie Lowe was the girl he had cared for.
The climax of action lies in the narrator’s discovery that Standish—not Dick—had been Bessie’s lover.
The dénouement is the narrator’s “poisoned arrow” flash of light that Dick had loved Leila and had sacrificed his own fiancée to the hurt to save Leila’s feelings. With the recognition dawns the realization that she and Dick must go their ways.
Struggle moments suggested are: 1. In the heart of Standish. Shall he confess to his wife? 2. In the heart of Dick. Shall he sacrifice his fiancée to save Leila’s feelings? 3. On Leila’s part. Shall she indicate that she knows Dick is lying? 4. On the part of the narrator. What shall she do about it? In each case, the outcome arrives with celerity, and love is the ruling motive in each struggle. The decision, as affected by love, testifies to the character of each person.
Characterization. Is each character so described, and does he show such action and interaction as to make logical the behavior in the particular struggle? Must the reader accept any one of the decisions on faith alone?
Setting. What is it? Has it particular contributory value, or might the locale have been, say, New York? How is it integrated with atmosphere and action? (See, e.g., page 468, “Through the purpling twilight of that St. John’s eve.”)
Details. How might the narrator have hoodwinked herself as to Dick’s motive? How might Dick have explained so as either 1. to satisfy the narrator, or 2. to leave her—and the reader—in doubt? Which of the three choices would have been cheapest and easiest? Which would have destroyed, altogether, the individuality of the story?
Study the sound effects, beginning in the very first paragraph; Is there a suggestion of disturbed harmonies, in a spiritual sense? Notice that the sounds suggest the entire London background against which the individual tragedy stands out, etched in a few lines.
What value have the poetic passages which Miss Synon is fond of introducing into her stories? Do they seem to be external, or have they been made an essentially vital part of the whole?
What does lavender, at the close, signify?
Wherein lies the deepest pathos of the story? How is it conveyed—by notice or neglect or by a happy restraint?