For Whom the Bell Tolls is about an American ex-patriot named Robert Jordan who fights in the Spanish Civil War in the 1930s. It's Hemingway's longest novel at 270,000 words. I purchased my copy two years ago in Manhattan during a three-week meandering that took me through South Carolina, Georgia, New Jersey, the U.S. Open in Queens, Western Pennsylvania, and Ohio. The book didn't feel like it was nearly 500 pages. I read it on planes and on the couches of friends and relatives and finished it in four days.
For Whom the Bell Tolls, was Hemingway's first novel written in third-person limited omniscience. In our earlier post, we talked about The Old Man and the Sea, in which the narrator has full omniscience, meaning it can “see” into characters' thoughts at any point during the narrative.
Visualization of Third-Person Limited Omniscience. Please excuse my terrible drawing!
However, in For Whom the Bell Tolls Hemingway's narrator is limited to “seeing” into one character's head per scene. Since there seemed to be some confusion about head hopping and third-person limited perspective, I thought we'd cover it again today.
Switching Viewpoints Mid-Scene
In third-person limited, the narrator is still able to switch to a new characters' viewpoint and “see” into his or her thoughts. However, when the narrator switches characters, she must first create a PAGE BREAK like
this. See that gap between one paragraph and another? One scene would end at the PAGE BREAK and another would begin.
This page break tells the reader a shift is coming. Here's how Hemingway does it in For Whom the Bell Tolls:
Maria held the saddle with both hands and pressed her cropped head hard against it and cried. She heard the deep voice shouting again and she turned from the saddle and shouted, choking, “Yes! Thanks you!” Then, choking again, “Thank you! Thank you very much!”
When they heard the planes they all looked up and the planes were coming from Segovia very high in the sky, silvery in the high sky, their drumming rising over all the other sounds.
During that page break, we shift from Maria's viewpoint back to Robert Jordan's, the protagonist. The page break tells us this shift is coming. If there were no page break, it would be considered head hopping.
Switching Viewpoints After a Chapter
Alternatively, you can switch viewpoints after a CHAPTER BREAK. One reader asked if what George R.R. Martin does is head hopping. After every chapter, Martin shifts to a different characters' viewpoint.
However, this does not count as head hopping. Martin writes in third-person limited, but he is not head hopping because his viewpoint shifts occur between chapters. Chapter breaks, like page breaks, warn the reader there could be a shift in viewpoint coming.
Does that make sense?
To recap, you can shift perspective to a new character in third-person limited as long as you do it at a PAGE BREAK or CHAPTER BREAK. Otherwise, change your point of view to third-person omniscient or get rid of your viewpoint shifts because you're head hopping!
PRACTICE
Write about two characters on either side of a battlefield.
For eight minutes, describe the battle from one character's perspective. Then, shift viewpoints to another character, writing for another seven minutes.
Post your practice in the comments when you're finished.
And don't forget those page breaks!
Not a good prompt for me today. I hate war. I did stop the timer long enough to look up Vietnamese names.
They sat by the side of the river, in the dense undergrowth of the Vietnamese jungle, and smoked. John and Tommy had been together for most of the war. They had been assigned to the same unit stateside, and although they came from entirely different cultures: Tommy’s grandfather had come to NYC from Ireland during the late eighteen hundreds, and John was in the Jamestowne Society, they liked the same music, Jimi Hendrix and Canned Heat, and they drank the same beer, Pabst. They had seen carnage together countless times, talked of girls that could dance all night, and they had played poker together countless times. Smoking as they were that morning, was done in unison, hands and arms moving at the same rate, smiles and words coming in the same rhythm. They – timer went off.
An and Bah sat by the side of the river, in the dense undergrowth of the Vietnamese jungle, and smoked. They had been born the same year, in the same village. They had learned to talk together, gone to school together, and been in love with the same girl, the one with the devilish laughing dark eyes. They had seen her die during an attack on their village, seen her shot so full of holes that she had no face. Smoking as they were that morning, was done in unison, hands and arms moving at the same rate, smiles and words coming in the same rhythm. Rifles fired behind An and Bah. They ran into the river holding their rifles ready.
Nice job, Marianne. I like how you used perspective to show the true evil of war, that despite different cultures, languages, and music tastes, we are all carry the same humanity.
In third person limited, I believe you would have to choose one of their perspectives per scene though. Either An or Bah in one or John and Tommy. Speaking of them as they smacks of omniscient to me.
This is well done, though, Marianne. Despite (or because of) your distaste for war, you have a knack for writing about it.
Nice job, Marianne. I like how you used perspective to show the true evil of war, that despite different cultures, languages, and music tastes, we are all carry the same humanity.
In third person limited, I believe you would have to choose one of their perspectives per scene though. Either An or Bah in one or John and Tommy. Speaking of them as they smacks of omniscient to me.
This is well done, though, Marianne. Despite (or because of) your distaste for war, you have a knack for writing about it.
Thanks Joe. I also think it’s omniscient now that I read it over again.
Isidro was covered with soot from all the gun powder that was used. His fellowmen were quickly dying one by one. I just have to keep fighting and stay unseen by those Japanese soldiers.
The women and children were spared, for a while. However, once the door of each house closed after a couple Japanese soldiers went in, Isidro could hear the screams of the women and the nonstop cries of children. They were being raped, Isidro thought as he tightened his grip around the rifle that was given to him.
He wanted to stop this war, but they were too weak. The Japanese were brutal and heartless men.
Isidro closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to God, “Please help us, Lord. Forgive me for what I am about to do.”
His eyes flashed open and he charged towards the first house he saw.
Hiro never really liked fighting in this war, but he didn’t have a choice. At least one man from each family must be sent to fight in this blood filled battlefield.
He followed his immediate captain, Kazuya into a small house that looked like it was about to collapse. He could see the women and children hiding in a corner with fear in their eyes. They know what will happen to them.
“Close the door,” his captain ordered, and he did as he was told.
The captain gave his gun to Hiro and started to walk slowly towards the woman. She quickly turned her back on him and hugged her children tighter. She was muttering to them but Hiro thought she was just praying.
Your God won’t save you now, he thought.
His captain grabbed the woman by the arm and pushed her to the ground. “Look after these brats while I take care of this woman,” he ordered again.
“I’m sorry,” Hiro whispered to the children as he pointed his gun at the tiny little kids.
Kazuya started ripping off the woman’s clothing and she started to scream. Hiro wanted her to stop, because the less they scream, the sooner it would be over.
He closed his eyes and wished he couldn’t hear their screams and cries.
And when he opened his eyes a few moments later, he felt blood trickling down his face. He fell to the ground and saw a man, not Japanese like him, hugging the children and the woman, who was still alive.
I think you did a very good job of conveying the atrocities of war. I’m assuming that it was Isdiro that knocked down Hiro and saved the woman and her children?
Is this the Japanese and Chinese conflict in the early twentieth century?
I think you did a very good job of conveying the atrocities of war. I’m assuming that it was Isdiro that knocked down Hiro and saved the woman and her children?
Is this the Japanese and Chinese conflict in the early twentieth century?
Isidro was covered with soot from all the gun powder that was used. His fellowmen were quickly dying one by one. I just have to keep fighting and stay unseen by those Japanese soldiers.
The women and children were spared, for a while. However, once the door of each house closed after a couple Japanese soldiers went in, Isidro could hear the screams of the women and the nonstop cries of children. They were being raped, Isidro thought as he tightened his grip around the rifle that was given to him.
He wanted to stop this war, but they were too weak. The Japanese were brutal and heartless men.
Isidro closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to God, “Please help us, Lord. Forgive me for what I am about to do.”
His eyes flashed open and he charged towards the first house he saw.
Hiro never really liked fighting in this war, but he didn’t have a choice. At least one man from each family must be sent to fight in this blood filled battlefield.
He followed his immediate captain, Kazuya into a small house that looked like it was about to collapse. He could see the women and children hiding in a corner with fear in their eyes. They know what will happen to them.
“Close the door,” his captain ordered, and he did as he was told.
The captain gave his gun to Hiro and started to walk slowly towards the woman. She quickly turned her back on him and hugged her children tighter. She was muttering to them but Hiro thought she was just praying.
Your God won’t save you now, he thought.
His captain grabbed the woman by the arm and pushed her to the ground. “Look after these brats while I take care of this woman,” he ordered again.
“I’m sorry,” Hiro whispered to the children as he pointed his gun at the tiny little kids.
Kazuya started ripping off the woman’s clothing and she started to scream. Hiro wanted her to stop, because the less they scream, the sooner it would be over.
He closed his eyes and wished he couldn’t hear their screams and cries.
And when he opened his eyes a few moments later, he felt blood trickling down his face. He fell to the ground and saw a man, not Japanese like him, hugging the children and the woman, who was still alive.
I think you did a very good job of conveying the atrocities of war. I’m assuming that it was Isdiro that knocked down Hiro and saved the woman and her children?
Is this the Japanese and Chinese conflict in the early twentieth century?
I think you did a very good job of conveying the atrocities of war. I’m assuming that it was Isdiro that knocked down Hiro and saved the woman and her children?
Is this the Japanese and Chinese conflict in the early twentieth century?
Yes, it was Isidro who came in and saved the woman and her children.
Isidro is a Filipino while Hiro is Japanese.
I spent too much time being drawn back into Philippine history when I visited Hawaii last December. Pearl Harbor and all.
Oof, war is so hard.
Nice job, though, Unisse. Of course, you showed the perspective break perfectly. I like how both you and Marianne showed the perspective on either side of the fight. When I wrote the practice I just assumed people would writing about soldiers from the same army on either side of the battle, but of course what you two have done is so much more interesting. It would be interesting writing a full novel from these two character’s perspectives. Walking through their experience of the war until they finally meet here, in this house. I don’t know if that’s been done many times before.
I thought it was supposed to be about two different armies. Haha! Though I find it a bit more challenging to write about two soldiers from the same army.
Glad you liked this! 🙂
This is so visceral, very strong and right there in the action. I did get a little confused at the end about who was hugging the children, and I totally forgot what the assignment was as I read this because the story really drew me in.
But isn’t head hopping, to some degree a necessary evil even in the face of the same scene; like in a romance novel for example? One could show the shift between the characters by telling their actions, using their names, or appropriate pronouns, and by making sure there is at least a paragraph break between heads, as it were, couldn’t one?
Yes, if you’re going to write in third-person omniscient, but not if you write in third-person limited.
However, most Romance novels, I hear, are limited. I don’t actually know this for a fact, though, because I’ve never actually read one. You can still talk about their actions, use their names, and show their emotion through facial expression, but you can only show one character’s inner thoughts at once.
Joe, it’s okay to admit you have read a Romance novel. No one will judge you.
You’re a clown, Tom. I actually wouldn’t mind reading one just to understand why they’re so popular. I just haven’t gotten around to it.
Off the topic, but do you know why I receive your posts over 25 hours after they come out? Does that happen to everyone who signs up for this blog?
Hi Nancy. Yep, email subscribers get it the next day. Once of those weird technology things. If I don’t post before a certain time (8:30 am I believe), you won’t get it until the next day. Sorry about that 🙂
If you like Joe, which we all do… “Right, Gang?!”…you can friend him on Facebook and get them earlier. Unless he doesn’t particularly care for you and then I guess you’re out of luck.
Haha, thanks Tom. That’s a good point, though. I might not friend you back 🙂
All right. Here’s a girly attempt at a battle:
The clash of steel against steel rent the heavy, wet air. Perspiration ran down Gregory’s face. It streamed into his eyes, stinging them, and he blinked furiously, unable to wipe it away. He had become a machine in this moment. His arms lifting his weapon, swinging and slashing of their own accord. He let his instinct guide each movement, to duck, to side-step, to thrust, and twist. Inside a beast had been unleashed, and it took no heed of any rational mind. And he allowed it. The battle that embroiled him, the flesh of his enemies that he slew, now delighted him. He was born to this.
Lord Edward watched the battle from a hilltop a mile away. His face was set and his mouth a hard line. He struggled with himself to keep in check the rage that was boiling in his chest as he watched the carnage that was unfolding on the battlefield below. He forbore to look at his brother, who was mounted on his horse in the midst of his line of men and generals. Lord Edward had predicted this outcome. He had warned against the folly of meeting this army at this place, and his brother had laughed him off as if he were an ignorant private. This land was not suited for a fight in their favor, and to lose one more battle at this juncture might very well be the loss of the entire war.
Excellent job, Casey! I love the perspectives you chose. One in the very middle of the battle, and the other at the top of the hill, overlooking it all. It reminds me of War and Peace, Prince Andrei’s experience in the heat of battle versus Napoleon’s at the top of the hill overlooking the great cloud of dust from the battle.
And of course, you shifted perspective perfectly.
This is good Casey. The brothers’ basic personalities are apparent in this short space.
Was having a hard time doing this one. Anyway, here’s my war exercise 🙂
Softpaws pounded left and right and left and right. He didn’t stop for a single moment. He knew if he stopped that he won’t be able to go on again. He had no more strength left. The only thing that kept him going was his strong desire to finally get his revenge. He felt the strong grip of the Stuffling, Mr. Teddy, on his shoulders. In an instant, he was tossed hard to an adjacent tree like a rag doll. He felt something broke as he landed hard on the ground. Another one of his ribs? Softpaws struggled to lift himself up. He looked at his nemesis standing on all fours. The edges of his vision were starting to darken up. His chest was in intense pain from the nasty gash Mr. Teddy gave him. He pushed himself up to a sitting position with his back on the tree. He didn’t have the strength to stand up much less defend himself. Still, Softpaws smiled at his arch enemy. He balled his hands into fists and lifted them in front of him.
“That all you got?” He said through gritted teeth.
Mr. Teddy was staggering. He was seeing in doubles. Suddenly, all the beatings he had endured from Softpaws washed over him all at once like a huge tidal wave. His left eye was swollen shut. He knew he has a concussion. Huge scratch marks covered almost the entirety of his body. He was lucky he still was able to get the damn monkey off of his back. In front of him, he saw Softpaws sit up. The monkey’s yellow colored fur had turned bloody red. Blood was flowing freely from his opponent’s chest like a river. Mr. Teddy couldn’t help but smile despite himself. The two of them had been enemies for as long as he could remember. They had fought against one another in countless skirmishes in the past. Neither one would back down. Now, it seemed everything was coming to an end. This was the final round. Winner takes all. Mr. Teddy took a step, his knees shaky, and then another. Softpaws didn’t stand. He figured the monkey had no more strength left. Good, I’ve got nothing left as well. He saw Softpaws raise both hands. The monkey was smiling.
“That all you got?” He heard the monkey say.
Mr. Teddy took another shaky step. “Not by a long shot,” he answered back.
Ha. This is funny. A teddy bear versus a stuff monkey, right? I like it.
Technically, this is a correct viewpoint shift. You’ve got the page break in there just right. But it feels a bit off to me. Maybe because you’re switching from one perspective to another in the same battle. In this case it’s almost like the page break isn’t enough, like you’d need either a new chapter or something. One thing that could work is if Teddy fainted and you began narrating from his perspective as he wakes up. I don’t know. It might work in a longer story. I could be wrong.
Hmm yeah, I get what you mean. So is this an example of “soft” head hopping? ha. 🙂
That’s a great way to put it. Yeah, you’re not breaking the rule but you might be bending the spirit of it.
“Charge!”
The soldiers in blue, filled with testosterone-induced fury, rushed forward towards their enemy neighbors. This fury was the only way they could manage to justify the mayhem. If they thought about it too much, they would be prone to run the other direction. Instead, they didn’t think, they just charged.
Lt. Smith struggled to keep up with his platoon. His mind was being bombarded with images of his kid brother. The towhead kid who used to pester him while he did his chores, who walked in on him and his girl the night they kissed for the first time, the one who stood next to him on his wedding day, that kid was now his enemy dressed in gray. He shook the images away and charged ahead.
The General watched in stoic horror as the sea of blue cascaded down the hill overwhelming the southern village below. His men were obediently standing firm as far as the eye could see. But his failing eyes could not detect, or more likely, refused to detect the trembling hands and wobbling knees. It seemed even his noble and faithful horse was holding his breath in anticipation.
At first, the soldiers in gray were banded together in unified determination. But gradually the dissenters began to peel away, one by one at first, and then in clumps. Only one of them chose honor and loyalty to the bitter end. The young man didn’t look old enough to even serve in the army. His blond hair matted together with blood and sweat as he stood his ground, protecting his boyhood home, a house soon to be a pile of ash and brick.
Your first and last paragraphs are technically omniscient. You can’t know the thoughts of a crowd of characters unless you can see into every character’s head. Does that make sense?
The middle two paragraphs work though!
Crud! I got confused. I really thought I was omniscient for a moment! I think I combined your two head hopper posts into one. So it’s your fault :/
It probably is my fault…. 🙁
Is it “The Old Man in the Sea” or “The Old Man AND the Sea”? 🙂
Is it “The Old Man in the Sea” or “The Old Man AND the Sea”? 🙂
Good call, Scott. It’s definitely AND. Fixed it. Thanks.
Have you ever read Ken Follett? In his book “The Hammer of Eden” I believe, he switched first person between the hero and the villain. Have you ever known any other authors to do that?
Have you ever read Ken Follett? In his book “The Hammer of Eden” I believe, he switched first person between the hero and the villain. Have you ever known any other authors to do that?
Hi, a bit late on this topic.. But yeah, I have not done much fighting writing. So this is a first for me.
Martin looked over the field, from on top of the hill. When he looked down, he saw that the other side had more in numbers but that they were better placed. He felt the feeling that they may come out the victor though and that had made him feel good to think about. He drove his horse down from the hillside and trotted by the line of men. The men had the fierce look on their face of many ready to die for their cause. It made him feel sad as he wondered how many actually would die but he brushed it from his mind. War is no time to think about life and death. It is the time of sacrifice. We are the sacrifice for the country and it is this sacrifice of lives we must lay down so the master of our lands may be satisfied. They know what they are doing.
He swallowed hard and his face was like stone, unmovable to the twists of fate. And then the stillness stopped, as rifles blew, and it sounded like fireworks across the field except the people started to drop all around him no both sides. And the herds of people started to thin.
Jonathon didn’t want to be in the war. He stood ready with his pistol, aiming forward. He didn’t know why it was taking so long that his arm started to ache, but it was okay. With each second that passed his stomach twisted even harder then before. He had been holding himself together because of the months of training before hand. He knew vaguely that the people on the other side of the line were people he may have lived with if he had grown up in another city and then he’d have been on that side of the line. But the military doesn’t encourage one to think of things like that. In fact thinking is discouraged, killing is encouraged. Why couldn’t he just stop thinking and kill. Be able to sacrifice himself for his nation like a man is supposed to.