Foe

Part 4 is distinctly dreamlike and metaphorical. While Parts 1-3 are narrated from the perspective of Susan Barton, an unnamed narrator takes over the final pages of the novel. This shift in perspective is evident when the unnamed narrator observes Susan and Foe lying in bed, “fat as pigs” (157). This act of observation distinguishes the narrator from the character, suggesting that this may be Susan’s perspective, but as a writer rather than a protagonist. This narrator has the same preoccupation with opening Friday’s mouth and hearing Friday’s story, yet the rules of the world have been altered. This narrator moves in a dreamlike manner, shifting location and perspective in unnatural and abstract ways, to the point where the narrator descends beneath the waves and moves through a hallucinatory final section of the story. After a novel spent trying to coax Friday’s story from his mouth and three separate parts in which Susan narrates her story in different ways, Part 4 represents a significant change. Now, the novel is narrated by someone who is not constrained by format or nascent literary traditions and tropes. The narration is not presented in the form of a letter or manuscript; it is not set in one fixed physical location or bound by the rules that govern human movement. This narrator can move into the abstract in pursuit of literary truth; Part 4 of Foe is the narration at its least constrained, as a new method of uncovering Friday’s story is sought.

The depiction of the sleeping house gives Part 4 a dreamlike quality. As the narrator moves through Foe’s lodgings, the narrator observes the sleeping characters. They are united in their unconsciousness, brought together for the first time. In this state, no one is able to speak. They share Friday’s limitation, with the narrator able to infer their character from their silence, just as Susan has done to Friday throughout the novel. The narration also subtly defies the chronological constraints of the novel and situates it in literary history. Throughout Foe, the character of Foe has been assumed to be a fictionalized version of the author, Daniel Defoe. The author of Robinson Crusoe is reinvented and reexamined, just as the characters Cruso and Friday are reappraised in a postcolonial context. When the narration moves outside of Foe’s lodgings, a plaque outside bears his name and profession. This plaque announces him as “Daniel Defoe, Author” (155), written in white letters on a blue background. This is a subtle reference to the series of commemorative plaques that adorn many buildings in London. The historical Defoe has a similar plaque fitted to a house in Stoke Newington to announce to the world that this is where he once lived. This is the only reference in the novel to the historical Defoe rather than the fictionalized Foe. The narrator of Foe has the capacity to move between real and fictional worlds, understanding the contrast between Defoe the man and Foe the character. This is an example of metafiction, in which the narration consciously draws the reader’s attention to the act of reading a novel. The reader is reminded that the character in the bed beside Susan is not the actual Defoe, which then begs the question of how Susan’s story might have been affected by contemporary attitudes. Her narrative is a reappraisal of history, which prompts the reader to ponder the differences between Foe and Defoe.

Part 4 also deliberately reframes Part 1 of the novel. As the unnamed narrator moves through Foe’s lodgings, a manuscript is found. The manuscript is addressed to Foe and then switches into the opening lines of Part 1 of Foe. This suggests that Part 1 of the novel is not an isolated narrative. Rather, it is the actual manuscript that Susan wrote to present to Foe. This is her story, told on her terms, before Foe has been allowed to influence her words, which captures the theme of Stories and Agency. Her narrative mode of address, in this sense, is beholden to a man she believes to be a skilled author, even as she demonstrates her own emerging command of the language. By confirming the format of Part 1, the novel creates a contrast between Susan’s careful, deliberate narration before Foe’s influence and the abstract narration that comes after she has endured his company. Her experiences with Foe—being ignored, being impoverished, and desperately trying to inspire him by invoking the muse—have made her into a very different narrator, to the point that the narration of Part 4 is barely even presented as her perspective. She has transcended the narration of the character of Susan, moving into the realm of something more literary and figurative. This narration, including the descent into the sunken ship, drives at the same goal—encouraging Friday to tell his story—but does so in an immaterial, conceptual manner. Friday’s mouth is opened; he is encouraged to tell his story, and then the world and the narrator are covered in whatever comes out. The years of pain and trauma for both Friday and other African enslaved people are unleashed through the narration, covering the world as the literature is finally able to grapple with the experiences and suffering of an entire people. This further captures the theme of Different Perspectives, as anyone attempting to obtain Friday’s story is also attempting to commodify it without considering whether or not it is a story that he wants to share. Friday’s story is his, and just as Susan fought to ensure the authenticity of hers, perhaps Friday’s wish is to hold his story in. As the ending suggests, his story is likely one filled with horror beyond comprehension; where Susan thought that mutilation beyond tongue removal was too graphic for the page, Friday’s lived experiences, as well as the lived experiences of other African enslaved people, are beyond Western understanding and therefore impossible to fully convey within the confines of traditional literary forms.