What is narrative distance? And how do you control it?

Have you ever cried at a novel? Or grown to love a particular character? Or got so swept up in a story that you read for way longer than you’d intended? Chances are, if you’ve had any of these reading experiences, it was thanks to an author’s deft use of narrative distance.

Narrative distance is a fundamental element in any novel. It’s also something that new writers tend to get wrong. This isn’t such a problem when you’re penning your first draft. But when editing and rewriting, it’s well worth getting to grips with narrative distance so you can use it to your advantage.

This article is all about narrative distance. We’ll be looking at:

• What is narrative distance?

• The narrative distance scale

• Controlling narrative distance

• Examples of narrative distance from Joe Abercrombie’s The Blade Itself

What is narrative distance?

Narrative distance is how close or removed a reader feels from your characters and the events of your story. Also known as psychic distance, narrative distance has a profound effect on a reader.

It affects the emotional connection a reader has to your novel. And it helps readers to understand, identify with and feel sympathy for your characters.

Understanding and controlling narrative distance makes your writing more compelling. And it’s therefore a very important skill for authors to develop. If you’ve never come across the concept of narrative distance before, the narrative distance scale below is a perfect introduction.

The narrative distance scale

The narrative distance scale was created by John Gardner in his 1983 writers’ guide, The Art of Fiction. It’s still a really useful way to understand narrative distance and experience the effect it has on us as readers.

Gardner uses five examples to show different degrees of psychic distance. Here are all five.

It was winter of the year 1853. A large man stepped out of a doorway.

This example is at the furthest end of the narrative distance scale. The writing is remote and objective. There’s no emotion and no sense of what either the narrator or “the large man” is thinking or feeling.

While these sentences help to set the scene, we’d struggle to connect with characters and events if the whole story was written from this birds-eye perspective.

Henry J. Warburton had never much cared for snowstorms.

Moving a tiny bit closer now. We get to know the man’s name and a little about his opinions and personality. But we’re still being held at a fairly aloof distance.  

Henry hated snowstorms.

Here, the narrative distance narrows again. The narrator refers to Henry by just his first name. The word hated is more informal and emotive than anything in the two previous examples. We’re beginning to get a better sense of Henry and are given a little hint of his voice.

God how he hated these damn snowstorms.

Henry’s voice is now blending into the narration. Using a free indirect style, the narrator has adopted Henry’s way of speaking. We’re still not inside Henry’s head but we’re getting much closer to the character’s experience.

Snow. Under your collar, down inside your shoes, freezing and plugging up your miserable soul.

I love how evocative this last example is. We’ve travelled all the way to the other end of the narrative distance spectrum and the effect is completely different from the first example.

Here we’re under Henry’s skin and inside his brain. The writer has adopted a stream of consciousness style, giving us access to Henry’s thoughts, emotions and sensory experience. For us as readers, this feels incredibly intimate. It’s as if we’re stepping into that freezing snowstorm as Henry.

Controlling narrative distance

So now we know what narrative distance is. But how do you control it within your story? Here are some things to consider when writing or editing your work in progress.

Shifting narrative distance

You don’t have to stick to the same point on the narrative distance scale when writing. In fact, I’d strongly advise against it.

Having a close narrative distance is an effective way to build rapport between the reader and your viewpoint character. It gives a reader insight into the inner world of your character and makes their actions understandable.

But this is an intense experience for a reader. Spend too long at this end of the scale and your narrative could become emotionally draining and overwhelming. You may also find it difficult to establish the setting and wider context of your story.

So in the same way that a film pans in and out of a scene, showing us close-up character action and wider shots of the setting, a narrative needs to develop a rhythm. It should move closer to characters and further away again, varying the experience for readers and allowing you more flexibility when telling a story.

Narrative distance and point of view

The point of view (POV) you choose for your book has an impact on narrative distance. For example, a first person narrative is known for its close narrative distance. Third person omniscient narration, on the other hand, lends itself to greater narrative distance.

However, you can slide along the psychic distance scale no matter which point of view you use. Just compare these first person POV examples from Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale.

In this first narrative distance example, Offred is detachedly describing her surroundings. The narrative distance is significant.

I walk along the hallway, past the sitting-room door and the door that leads into the dining room, and open the door at the end of the hall and go through into the kitchen. Here the smell is no longer of furniture polish. Rita is in here, standing at the kitchen table which has a top of chipped white enamel. She’s in her usual Martha’s dress, which is dull green, like a surgeon’s gown of the time before.

But in this example, we’re brought closer to the character of Offred. We get access to her perceptions, opinions and thoughts. We get carried away in her sensory daydream, the likes of which would be frowned upon in the oppressive world of Gilead.

He lives here, in the household, over the garage. Low status: he hasn’t been issued a woman, not even one. He doesn’t rate: some defect, lack of connections. But he acts as if he doesn’t know this, or care. He’s too casual, he’s not servile enough. It may be stupidity, but I don’t think so. Smells fishy, they used to say; or I smell a rat. Misfit as odour. Despite myself, I think of how he might smell. Not fish or decaying rat: tanned skin, moist in the sun, filmed with smoke. I sigh, inhaling.

Techniques for controlling narrative distance

The point of view you choose is just one of the levers available to you when controlling narrative distance in your book. Here are some others:

The words you use – use factual, relatively formal language for greater narrative distance or use words that echo the speech of your viewpoint character to bring readers closer

The focus of the narration – decide whether to view a scene from a bird’s eye view or whether to focus on the details that your viewpoint character finds interesting

The level of objectivity – for a closer narrative distance, let the ideas, opinions and judgements of your viewpoint character colour the narration

Access to thoughts and feelings – put your readers at a distance by denying them access to a character’s inner thoughts and feelings; or bring them close, with lots of emotional and sensory detail (just remember not to use too many sense verbs!)

Shifting narrative distance is another important technique to master.  

Imagine you’re watching a film. There’s a panoramic shot of a village nestled in a valley. Then we cut straight to an extreme close-up of a face. The effect is really jarring and disorienting for a viewer and it’s not something we tend to see.

Instead, in most films, a director takes us from the panoramic shot to a slightly closer shot before showing us any close-up details. It’s a gradual process. When writing a story, you have to do the same. Jumping from one end of the narrative distance scale within a sentence or two risks confusing your readers.

So to control narrative distance effectively, pan in and out seamlessly. A reader shouldn’t even be aware of what is happening. Learn to recognise different points on the narrative distance spectrum. And then travel up and down Gardner’s scale, step by step, to keep readers connected to your story.  

Are you using narrative distance effectively? A good copy editor can highlight the parts of your manuscript that feel jarring – and offer advice on how to seamlessly shift narrative distance. Take a look at my copyediting service to find out more.

Ways you can use narrative distance

When you become more comfortable recognising and controlling narrative distance, you can use it to enhance your storytelling in a variety of different ways.

Make an emotional scene even more visceral and intense by narrowing narrative distance as much as possible. You’ll create a strong emotional connection between reader and character and make your scene incredibly affecting.

Establish a narrative shift with greater narrative distance. This approach is particularly useful when you want to move between locations, time periods or character viewpoints.

Create well-rounded, likeable characters by zooming in. We can view even the most flawed individuals sympathetically when we understand their emotional state and motivations.

Keep your readers guessing by viewing a pivotal moment from a greater psychic distance. Don’t want your readers to know why your protagonist is avoiding eye contact with their father? Then don’t let them know what your character is thinking.  

Give your reader a break. If you’ve just written an intense, emotional scene, with a close narrative distance, then consider switching it up for the next section of your narrative. This gives your readers time to take a breath and process what has just happened.

Examples of narrative distance from Joe Abercrombie’s The Blade Itself

In The Blade Itself, which is written from a third person limited POV, Joe Abercrombie gives us a masterclass in the effective use of narrative distance. He moves up and down the narrative distance spectrum to excellent effect.

An example of close narrative distance

The first chapter opens with one of our viewpoint characters, Logen Ninefingers. Here, Abercrombie opts for a close narrative distance so we feel as if we’re there with Logen, feeling what he’s feeling, viewing the world through his eyes and hearing the story told in his voice.

The lapping of water in his ears. That was the first thing. The lapping of water, the rustling of trees, the odd click and twitter of a bird.

Logen opened his eyes a crack. Light, blurry bright through leaves. This was death? Then why did it hurt so much? His whole left side was throbbing. He tried to take a proper breath, choked, coughed up water, spat out mud. He groaned, flopped over onto his hands and knees, dragged himself up out of the river, gasping through clenched teeth, rolled onto his back in the moss and slime and rotten sticks at the water’s edge.

He lay there for a moment, staring up at the grey sky beyond the black branches, breath wheezing in his raw throat.

“I am still alive,” he croaked to himself. Still alive, in spite of the best efforts of nature, Shanka, men and beasts. Soaking wet and flat on his back, he started to chuckle. Reedy, gurgling laughter. Say one thing for Logen Ninefingers, say he’s a survivor.

An example of far narrative distance

Now, let’s jump ahead to an excerpt from chapter four. No spoilers, I promise! At this point in the narrative, we’re with another viewpoint character, Jezal. Here, Abercrombie uses a much greater narrative distance. This allows us to get the measure of the scene. We start with a wide-angle perspective and then slowly start to zoom in on Jezal as the scene progresses.

It was a beautiful spring day in Adua, and the sun shone pleasantly through the branches of the aromatic cedar, casting a dappled shade on the players beneath. A pleasing breeze fluttered through the courtyard, so the cards were clutched tightly or weighted down with glasses or coins. Birds twittered from the trees, and the shears of a gardener clacked across from the far side of the lawn, making faint, agreeable echoes against the tall white buildings of the quadrangle. Whether or not the players found the large sum of money in the centre of the table pleasant depended, of course, on the cards they held.

Captain Jezal dan Luthar certainly liked it. He had discovered an uncanny talent for the game since he gained his commission in the King’s Own, a talent which he had used to win large sums of money from his comrades. He didn’t really need the money, of course, coming from such a wealthy family, but it had allowed him to maintain an illusion of thrift while spending like a sailor.

Abercrombie is making an interesting choice. We view Logen, arguably the most sympathetic character of the novel, through a close narrative lens. But when we meet Jezal, initially one of the story’s least likeable characters, we do so from a much greater distance.

In this way, Abercrombie manipulates his readers. He makes it easier for us to understand and empathise with Logen while keeping us an arm’s length from Jezal. This is just another of the ways that a skilful author can use narrative distance to engage a reader and their emotions.

If you’d like an assessment of narrative distance in your manuscript, take a look at my editorial services. I can assess the overall effectiveness in your writing as part of a manuscript assessment. Or examine your story at a sentence level with copyediting.