One of the axioms of short story writing is that the author creates what Edgar Allen Poe refers to as a ‘unity of impression’. Every element of the story, according to Poe, contributes to the overall atmosphere, mood or idea of the story. Poe’s story, The Tell-tale Heart is often cited as an exemplary model. It is a Gothic story in which the narrator commits a murder. He builds up the tension leading up to the murder and ratchets it up again when he imagines he hears the victim’s heart still beating, from under the floorboards, where he has hidden the dismembered body. The murderer at first plays it cool in the presence of the three policemen who have come to investigate a disturbance reported by a neighbour, and invites them to search the house, but as the tension becomes unbearable, he breaks down and confesses to the murder.
The narrator says, “I was careful not to let a single drop of blood fall on the floor.” I wonder if that would really be possible to dismember a body without spilling a drop of blood. I wonder also if the murderer/narrator had intended to keep the dismembered body secreted permanently under the floor. If so the smell of decomposition would surely have given it away. A credible plot should withstand any probing for inconsistencies. On the other hand, it is implied throughout the story that the narrator is insane.
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In the story, Her First Ball, Katherine Mansfield builds a different sort of mood, as Leila, a naïve eighteen-year-old country girl, in a flurry of excitement, anticipates, then attends, a dance for the first time. We are told she is breathless with excitement. Her mood of excitement is conveyed in, and projected onto the particulars of her observations.
“A great quivering jet of gas lighted the ladies’ room. It couldn’t wait; it was dancing already.”
“[Leila]felt that even the little quivering coloured flags strung across the ceiling were talking.”
(Quivering is an apt word choice, obliquely denoting Leila’s excitement, but its effect is diminished through repetition.)
Leila dances with charming young men and thinks, “How heavenly; how simply heavenly!”
But then, “Oh, how quickly things changed!” when an older, bald, unpleasant, fat man partners her on the dance floor and converses with her, painting a dismal picture of how she will be at his age in the same setting, like “the poor old dears” up on the stage.”
Leila is so deflated that “deep inside her a little girl threw her pinafore over her head and sobbed.” and she wants to go home.
The story ends with Leila dancing again, reluctantly at first, with a young man, then recovering her joy. Even the music recovers, from having turned sad, to “soft, melting, ravishing.” The music, lights, flowers, dresses, faces, all the particulars again “became one beautiful flying wheel.”
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In Owen Marshall’s story, Haute Plaza New Year, the narrative progresses through a series of mood changes. Simon Naughton reluctantly attends a millennium celebration, “with a semblance of good humour,” to appease his wife. He is cynical and critical about the whole idea of celebrating the new millennium. He makes many critical comments about the occasion he begrudgingly attends and about other individuals in his party, but as he consumes food and wine at the venue, which he concedes are of excellent quality, his mood gradually lightens. He observes:
“The décor perhaps was an indulgent and humorous parody, rather than the outright affectation he had considered it earlier, and the irritating chatter from other tables seemed to fade as he became more talkative himself.”
Near the end of the narrative,
“… it seemed to Simon that he was surrounded by the very best of friends: people of intelligence, individual charm and affability.”
in contrast to his earlier snobbery and disdain.
Finally, and ironically, Simon asserts, “Celebration of life and events had always been very important to him… He couldn’t understand people with a sour attitude, wet blankets, never could.”