Too Much Exposition

Too Much Exposition

Or

Why I Think Rowling is Working a Little too Hard to Make Us Distrust Snape

Like everyone who read Chapter 27 of the Half Blood Prince, I was moved and saddened by Dumbledore's death -- this despite the fact that I had begun reading book six fully expecting Dumbledore to die. In fact, I was quite sure he was a goner the minute he and Harry headed off in search of the latest Horcrux. What I was not expecting however, and what really alarmed and upset me was Snape's involvement in Dumbldore's demise. However, it was not Snape's sudden apparent reversion to the dark side that distressed me, but rather the complex repercussions this miserable and tormented man was about to face as a result of this one awful act of absolute sacrifice.

So many have already put forward cogent and well-researched arguments either condemning Snape's murder of Dumbledore as a supreme act of betrayal or condoning it as a supreme act of loyalty. That so much attention is being devoted to this one character's true nature is a wonderful testament to Rowling's ability to ensnare her audience in a complex tale of complicated characters.

The title and opening paragraph should make it clear what side of the argument this essay supports, but instead of agonizing over Snape's potential doublespeak or Dumbledore's fallibility, it focuses on the overabundance of exposition surrounding Snape - an overabundance of exposition that seems too much like a smokescreen to be believable.

Snape Doth Explain Too Much

While reading Chapter 2, Spinner's End, I was overwhelmed (and a little put off) by Snape's inexhaustible chattiness. He seemed to have an elaborate answer for everything. In fact, for an expert double-agent, he was violating the code of professional liars everywhere: say as little as possible, and don't embellish. After all, the more one says, the easier it is to be caught by an inconsistent detail. Snape's behavior in this chapter, instead of sounding like the work of an expert dissembler, read more like an author dumping a lot of back story to plant the seeds of potential deception to exploit later on in the book.

In fact, this excess of exposition, some five and a half pages worth (US Hardcover, pp.26-31), seemed at odds with a character truly on Voldemort's side. Why would someone so securely in the pocket of Lord Voldemort feel the need to explain his every action just to assure fellow Death Eaters that he was still on their side? As long as Voldemort is okay with his choices, why should he bother explaining any of his actions to someone who has just shown herself to be ineffectual at thwarting a bunch of teenagers? Initially, Snape begins to adopt this attitude when he challenges Bellatrix's questions: "Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?" (26).

Bellatrix can do nothing but agree here. Snape cleverly follows this up with another comment that twists her mistrust of him into an obvious criticism of Voldemort: "You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?"

Clever that. Any sensible Death-Eater with the slightest sense of self-preservation would not dare accuse Voldemort of bad judgment or poor magic, and indeed there is not much Bellatrix could say to this. However, instead of pushing his advantage and further questioning Bellatrix's confidence in Voldemort, Snape begins to explain, and explain, and explain. Oh, he does manage to get in a few clever digs, "Of course, you weren't a lot of use to him in prison, but the gesture was undoubtedly fine --" (27), but suddenly Snape seems to be working a little too hard to convince Bellatrix, and a good portion of Rowling's readership, that he was still a real bad guy.

The Master Weaver

But why? Why would a character, who until now has been a man of relatively few words, suddenly begin to justify some fifteen-odd years of behavior. This did seem a bit much, but to be fair, it did occur to me that Rowling was simply using Bellatrix to ask the tough questions which were on the minds of her many clever readers and to poke holes in Snape's double-identity. I too wondered just how Snape managed to get back into Voldemort's inner circle.

However, vast amounts of exposition and explanation can also be used by an author to throw readers off-track . Imagine how differently Chapter 27 would read if Snape had been a little less chatty in Chapter 2. It is this exposition that allows us to believe Draco when he shouts at Dumbledore, "He's a double agent, you stupid old man, he isn't working for you, you just think he is!" (588) and to interpret the "revulsion and hatred etched into the harsh lines of [Snape's] face" (595) as being directed at Dumbledore. Without Spinner's End, the chapter that planted the seeds of doubt about Snape's allegiance, I am certain far more of us would have interpreted Snape's killing of Dumbledore as an act of loyalty instead of an act of betrayal.

Quid est Veritas?

So, is Snape to be trusted or not? Where do his allegiances really lie? Rowling does like to leave clues to help her readers navigate the traps she lays for them, and I think the title she selected for Chapter 2 is one such clue. "Spinner's End" is a subtle hint that Snape, is spinning a yarn, is weaving a tall tale in which to ensnare Bellatrix and that all that exposition is just a smokescreen.

Regardless of whether Snape proves ultimately to be loyal or disloyal to Dumbledore, I am looking forward to book seven to discover who the master weaver really is. Is it Snape, whose constant dissembling has allowed him the ultimate access to Voldemort's inner circle, or is it Rowling, whose masterful story-telling has allowed me to see only what I wanted to see and not the truth.