A strange thought: I would not want this not to have happened. Because if I escape I shall be a completely different and I think better person. Because if I don't escape, if something dreadful happened, I shall still know that the person I was and would have stayed if this hadn't happened was not the person I now want to be. (C 261)
Fowles posits that the tension "between the poles of poverty and wealth [] is one of the most potent in our societies"(A 125). He continues: "Money is potentiality: is control of, and access to, hazard; is freedom to choose; is power"(A 125). In The Collector, Clegg's character defines the potential evils of such power. Knowing that he is "inferior" to those who have more money, Clegg isolates himself from society. He even states that "power corrupts . . . [a]nd Money is Power"(C 23). Again, Fowles chooses to develop his protagonist as both villain and victim. Clegg is from a lower class background, but in winning the pools he is allowed access to society's "money paradise." What happens to Clegg is what Fowles believes happens to the upper class in society: "Having, not being, governs [their] time"(A 124).
Fowles structures his novel by incorporating two narrative voices, Clegg's and Miranda's, which serve to counteract each other. William Palmer suggests that "the tragedy of The Collector exists in the lack of communication . . . between the worlds of the two central characters"(34). Clegg's "confession" and the silent comments Miranda makes about him create a resonance which helps to foreground the role of the reader. That Fowles problematizes his characters' points of view by juxtaposing differing versions of the same narrative serves to distance him from his work. The reader does not have the authorial voice entering the text to condemn Clegg or sympathize with Miranda. The ultimate ending of the novel is left open; the reader must evaluate what has occurred.
Examining the power struggle presented in The Collector, this chapter addresses Fowles's concern with social health. Employing Foucault's ideas of "confession," the novel's structure shows how the power relations are set up. The two narrators are, on one level, opposites which create the conflict between the "few" and the "many." How this division between the characters evolves is the second aspect investigated in this chapter: both Clegg and Miranda are victims of socialization, a process which forces them to face the "nemo." Finally, this chapter investigates the potential for authenticity in the characters. Both Miranda and Clegg are given the opportunity to confront the "nemo," but neither is totally successful in defeating it. Miranda is not allowed the needed time to succeed and Clegg is too crippled to face the confrontation.
The seemingly simple structure of The Collector, two narrations of one event by two different subjects, is a major component in the reader's re-constructing process. McHale posits that if one pushes "epistemological questions far enough . . . they 'tip over' into ontological questions"(11). Fowles investigates both the modernist concern with knowledge and the ontological status of each of these narrations. Foregrounding both epistemological as well as ontological issues, Fowles employs a binary narrative to present both Clegg's and Miranda's "own" stories. Clegg retells how he won the pools and abducted Miranda, keeping her prisoner in his underground cellar while Miranda's discourse, although also telling of her abduction, explores much of her life before her imprisonment. The resonance that occurs between these two narrations presents many conflicts for the reader. One problem that has to be considered is the fact that both narrators are telling "their" story. Discrepancies between the discourses concerning the "reality" of certain issues are questioned by the reader. One instance where such a discrepancy occurs is Miranda's attempts to seduce Clegg in order to escape. Clegg declines these advances because "a psychiatrist has told him he won't ever be able to [have sex]"(C 252). The reader is aware that this is false as Clegg admits he never visited a therapist but just "made up a long story"(C 110). Moreover, Miranda herself posits that at times she writes "what [she] want[ed] to say as well as what [she actually] did"(C 142); as a result, her "report is consciously literary"(Onega 26).
The novel's two characters are in pursuit of authenticity, in an existential sense. Coupling the double narrative with the character's quests creates a text that is "polyphonic." Bakhtin claims that in a polyphonic novel characters are "not only objects of authorial discourse but also subjects of their own directly signifying discourse"(1984 7) and that each discourse constitutes a "point of view, a social-ideological conceptual system of real social groups"(1981 411). The two narrative voices in The Collector represent differing and authentic ideological concerns, what Fowles calls the "polar view of life"(A 11). Following McHale's concern with ontology, the question of reality sought in the interspace of these narratives leads the reader to the question of plural realities. If Miranda believes that Clegg is impotent and acts accordingly, her "reality" is dictated by this information. However, much of Miranda's narrative does not concern Clegg, but her artist friend G.P. Therefore, the interspace between the two narratives moves in another direction, one of ideological difference. In this textual space Fowles examines the politics of the "few" and the "many," the effect of calibanity on this relationship.
In The Collector, Clegg and Miranda appear to be "Adam" and "Eve" figures; here Adam is "stasis [] or conservatism" and Eve is "kinesis or progress"(A 165-66). Clegg claims that he has the desire to change, but he is unable to do so. He says: "I know my English isn't correct, but I try to make it correct"(C 172). However, the fact that Fowles gives Clegg his own discourse humanizes what has been considered an "evil" character. Yet, Clegg's reason for changing is superficial; he wants to impress Miranda. The desire "to be loved"(A 49) is a result of the nemo's manifestation in Clegg. He refuses to accept that his own weaknesses (in this case, his use of language) are the ultimate problem in his psychological make-up, whereas Miranda has a potential for growth by beginning to question both Clegg's and her own character. At first, Miranda does not want to change. She says: "I hate the way I have changed"(C 137), but later she realizes that she must change. She states: "How I hate ignorance! Caliban's ignorance, my ignorance, the world's ignorance"(C 160). The relationship between the stagnant Clegg and the progressive Miranda raises both the question of the "few" and the "many" and the question of responsibility. The tension between the two characters allows Fowles to investigate the political structure of society and the effect calibanity has on it.
To establish the opposition between Clegg and Miranda, Fowles gives each a different social status: Clegg is working-class while Miranda is middle-class. This division is exemplified in the characters' use of language and their views on sexuality and art. According to Miranda, Clegg appears to be "[a]bsolutely sexless"(C 131) while he believes her to be the epitome of sexuality. Clegg's inability to understand and appreciate art symbolizes his "sexlessness" or repressed sexuality. Central to the novel is "the destructiveness of a failure to develop psychological strength and insight . . . as well as the pathos of an inability to acquire an attitude of imaginative consciousness" (Beatty 73).
The first sentence of the novel lays bare the "common" language of Clegg by incorporating poor grammatic structure. He says: "When she was home from her boarding-school I used to see her almost every day sometimes, because her house was right opposite the Town Hall Annexe"(C 5). Clegg's language is full of clichés and euphemisms such as: "Shall I be mother?"(C 59), "Don't oblige me."(C 31) and "[Y]ou're all I've got that makes life worth living."(C 54), indicating his dependence on someone else's language, probably his aunt's. While planning Miranda's abduction, Clegg read "the classy newspapers" and "went to the National Gallery and the Tate Gallery" so he "wouldn't seem ignorant"(C 17). That Clegg does not want to "seem" ignorant suggests that he has a feeling of low self-worth. He exhibits his ignorance by only desiring to change the external qualities of his character. To appreciate fully what Fowles is doing in this novel, one must investigate Clegg's character and discover the root of his need to be accepted.
Raised by his aunt, and for a short time his uncle, Clegg had surrogate parents. When he was two years old his father died in an automobile accident caused by drunk driving. However, he reports that his aunt said it was "his mother who drove [his father] to drink"(C 7). The absence of his mother is explained to him by his cousin: "[S]he was a woman of the streets who went off with a foreigner"(C 7). The sense of isolation caused both by his father's death and the subsequent departure of his mother, and his aunt's didacticism concerning conformity, has made it difficult for Clegg to interact with others. This affliction manifests itself most in Clegg's own "false assumption of inferiority(A 10). For Clegg, the "nemo" is growing "in strict relation to [his] sense and knowledge of general and personal inequality"(A 48). That Clegg is isolated from his parents suggests a vulnerability in his character, a need for companionship, in which his aunt figures. Although a "nonconformist," she "never forced [him] to go to the chapel or such like"(C 10). Seemingly innocent, his aunt's actions go beyond "nonconformism" into a realm of "calibanity." Her apathy has left him with no sense of responsibility; moreover, his upbringing in a "nonconformist" environment has allowed Clegg to avoid facing his sense of "nothingness." He claims that he always "stayed the lone wolf"(C 8), even when he was fishing with uncle Dick, his surrogate father. Clegg does not seem strong enough to defeat the "nemo" and prove that "[he is] somebody" (A 50).
During his time in the Pay Corps, Clegg was inexperienced with women. He says: "I never thought about women much . . . I know I don't have what it is girls look for"(C 10). What Clegg thinks girls seek is some "crude animal thing [he] was born without"(C 10). Seeing himself as an unlikely candidate for romance, Clegg further separates himself from "normal" society. However, there is an irony in his views of himself and his views of others. Although he will trap Miranda and eventually let her die, Clegg does have an acute sense of social illness. He states that he is glad he was not born with that "crude animal thing" because he feels "if more people were like [him] . . . the world would be better"(C 10). Ironically, it is that aspect of male ideology that is referred to as the "crude animal thing" that Fowles is attacking in his fiction. Yet Clegg's seemingly acute ability to see the world around him does not help him with his view of himself. Being sexually repressed, he is an ironic Caliban, not trying to populate the world with Cleggs. This repression is an important addition to the Shakespearean character. Too stunted and repressed to criticize himself objectively, Clegg allows others to define his character for him. At a respectable hotel Clegg believes that the other patrons looked down on him. He explains: "You could see them saying, don't kid us, we know what you are, why don't you go back where you came from"(C 11). Claiming London is "all arranged for the people who can act like public schoolboys, and you don't get anywhere if you don't have the manner born and the right la-di-da voice--I mean rich people's London"(C 11), Clegg is again perceptive concerning social problems caused by the nemo, yet blind to his own obsessive nature.
The concern with possession manifests itself fully in The Collector, the title itself referring to this activity. Throughout all of his novels Fowles examines humankind's inability "to be." Miranda notices this tendency in Clegg when she says: "He knows that part of my beauty is being alive, but it's the dead me he wants"(C 215). However, even though Clegg is the person with power in this relationship, the blame cannot fall solely on him. Power, in Foucault's terms, does not result "from the choice or decision of an individual subject" but its existence "depends on a multiplicity of points of resistance" (1978 95). The ways his aunt and Miranda treat him, his socialization, are examples of the "points of resistance." Clegg's need to collect stems from both his desire for power and his feelings of alienation. By actively collecting, Clegg has assumed a label by which he can be identified.
Like Clegg, Miranda is a product of socialization. Whereas Clegg is a product of conformity, Miranda is shaped by rebellion. Being from a middle-class family causes Miranda to react against it. During the course of the novel Miranda insults Clegg for trying to conform to the middle-class ideology. However, in the process of rebellion, Miranda isolates herself from her family. She says that her mother is someone she has always "hated or been ashamed of"(C 152) and wants "to marry . . . to prove . . . that all marriages needn't be like D and M's"(C 151). Perhaps her desire to be an artist is a way of reacting against them and rebelling against the "nemo." Whatever the case, Miranda falls in love with the artist G.P. and his ideas. To her, he represents what is good and artistic. Either way, it is from this middle-class ideology that Miranda is trying to escape. As Clegg has tried to escape from his ideological social class by using his money, Miranda does the same using G.P. However, both characters fall victim to the very ideology they are fleeing. Miranda realizes that Clegg is the victim of his history, his social position. She says that "he's a victim of a miserable nonconformist suburban world and a miserable social class"(C 172). Yet, Miranda does not consider her own concern with social position. She continually attacks Clegg for his inarticulate speech in an attempt to assert superiority over him. Not until she begins to question her own "self" does her potential for authenticity grow. Miranda says she hates "the uneducated and the ignorant" and "the pompous and the phoney"(C 218). Both Clegg and Miranda share these flaws. Miranda's feeling of self-worth seems to suggest at first that it is she who is pompous, for Clegg never claims that he is educated. But Miranda, being too inexperienced, is not yet of the "few"; she wants "to be one of them, and that's not the same thing"(C 220). Recognition of the power relations between the "few" and the "many" allows Miranda to deal with her own person; thus she realizes that she feels "a responsibility towards him"(C 224) which suggests Miranda might have the potential to be one of the "few."
In contrast with Clegg's, Miranda's use of language is more precise and clear. The difference in language is foregrounded by the fact that the narrative style changes when Miranda begins her discourse. Written as a diary, the highly subjective style is articulated with a sense of intelligence. However, Miranda is not above using other people's language in her discourse. She constantly repeats what G.P. has said to her at one point or another. Moreover, the style of her discourse, the diary, suggests a creative element in her character. However, Pamela Cooper notes that, "as a narrator, [Miranda] is . . . intellectually and artistically dependent on G.P"(41). Yet, Miranda is still young, only eighteen or nineteen years old, and should be granted some latitude for her inexperience. Fowles describes the "few" as the "moral and intellectual élite" and the "many" as the "unthinking, conforming mass"(A 9). The language of the two characters suggests that Miranda has begun her journey towards the former group while Clegg has stagnated in the latter. The fact that Clegg tries to improve his language suggests a willingness and desire to learn, but an incomprehension of the depth of change required.
In examining the psychodynamics of Clegg and Miranda, one must consider the allusions Fowles makes to The Tempest. The names of the characters--Miranda, Ferdinand and Caliban--are borrowed from Shakespeare. In The Collector, the author appropriates these personae to serve very different purposes, to exploit, among other things, the political relationship between what Fowles's calls the "few" and the "many." In The Collector Miranda is a victim of her middle-class upbringing. Similarly, Lorie Leininger suggests that in the play Miranda "might prove a victim of the play's hierarchical values"(208). The most obvious way that Miranda Grey resembles Shakespeare's character is through Clegg's idealization of Miranda. In The Tempest she is young, beautiful, and innocent. Fowles's character possesses these three traits as well; however, Miranda Grey does not find a "brave new world" with her Ferdinand. In fact, all she finds is a "sick new world"(C 255).
The character of Clegg is called both Ferdinand and Caliban in the novel. Clegg himself wants to be thought of as Ferdinand, his fantasy being the happy union of Miranda and Ferdinand in the play. However, Miranda Grey calls him Caliban, the vile and monstrous villain of Shakespeare. However, Clegg does not have the physical appearances of Caliban. Miranda herself says he was "the sort of man you would not expect"(C 128) to kidnap her. Because of his earlier attempt to rape Miranda, Shakespeare's Caliban is punished by Prospero. As in Shakespeare, Fowles believes that the calibans of the world should not be adulated. Like Clegg, Caliban's language is considered uncivilized; however, as Caliban says: "You taught me language, and my profit on't/Is, I know how to curse"(I.ii.363-364). In both the play and the novel it is Miranda who tries to educate Caliban.
The one element that is not as obvious in Fowles's working of The Tempest is the role and character of Prospero. In the play, Prospero is introduced as the magician who finally allows freedom to all, showing his true ability to forgive. In The Collector, there is no character to play the role of Prospero. However, there are implications of his character. Miranda appears to be the Prospero for Clegg. Like Prospero, Miranda tests the novel's "Ferdinand," asking Clegg to free her and by doing so attain her respect. G.P. seems to be a Prospero figure for Miranda. He is her "magus," showing her the meaning of art and life. However, her own self-analysis shows that he is a false Prospero, that it is her realization of her own faults that allows growth. Only by developing one's own "unique persona"(A 50), by becoming Prospero, are Fowles's characters capable of their own metamorphosis. Not until The Magus does Fowles introduce a full-blown Prospero figure in Maurice Conchis.
The stagnation in Clegg's character can be seen throughout the text. He has an ideal view of Miranda, judging her solely on her looks and the story about her in the local paper. Miranda is developed in his mind before he ever meets her: he has found an anima figure. When he captures her, he realizes: "She didn't look quite like [he'd] always remembered her"(C 31). However, Clegg does not question his own constructed view of Miranda. He always claims that he never intended to abduct her, that it just happened. Then he claims that "there'd be a blooming lot more of this if more people had the money and the time to do it"(C 75). That this statement foregrounds one of the main themes of the novel problematizes our judgement of Clegg's character: the collector "is as imprisoned, is missing as much, as his victim"(Palmer 55).
One can condemn Clegg's actions, but there is a certain knowledge, or potential, that he has which the reader recognizes. Miranda says to Clegg: "What I fear in you is something that you don't know is in you"(C 75). She contends:
'You're the most perfect specimen of petit bourgeois squareness I've ever met.'
Am I?
'Yes, you are. You despise the real bourgeois classes for all their snobbishness and their snobbish voices and ways. . . . Yet all you put in their place is a horrid little refusal to have nasty thoughts or do nasty things or be nasty in any way.' (C 81)
One sees this contradiction between ideals and actions again when Clegg believes he is being generous by spending money on Miranda. Moreover, after taking nude photographs, symbolically raping Miranda, he tries to justify his action to himself. He says: "[N]ot many would have kept control of themselves, just taken photos, it was almost a point in my favour"(C 95).
At the end of the novel the reader observes Clegg's preparation for his next "guest." Clegg suggests that it is "just an idea"(C 288); however, after seeing Clegg make similar suggestions concerning his relationship with Miranda, one is prepared for Clegg to repeat his performance with another victim. Perhaps the most sinister scene in the novel occurs when Clegg discovers Miranda's diary. Until this point the reader, although not forgiving Clegg's actions, may have some sympathy for him because of the social factors that have stunted him. However, when Clegg claims that "it was just like [him] to see only the dark side"(C 286) and that a "doctor probably could have done little good"(C 286) for Miranda, one is aware that Clegg denies his responsibility for Miranda's death. He suggests his problem was that he aimed "too high"(C 287), and that he needed someone who would actually respect him. Clegg does not realize that he has to respect himself, that the "true destiny of man is to become a magician himself"(A 213): in order to learn his own weaknesses and strengths and emerge from calibanity.
As well as being opposites in terms of language and education, Clegg and Miranda are polarities in terms of their views on sexuality. Unlike Shakespeare's Caliban, Clegg is sexually impotent. When Miranda questions him about his sexual interest in her, Clegg says: "It shocked me"(C 36). This prudish attitude towards sexuality recurs throughout the novel. While taking Miranda for a walk around the garden, Clegg becomes uncomfortable with his touching her. His desire to kiss her makes him feel awkward. The innocence that Clegg displays towards sex is subverted by his photography. Clegg believes that sex is the "other thing" that is immoral when it comes to living sexuality. He is only able to come to terms with sexuality when it is in the form of photographs, when it is dead. Clegg begins taking innocent photographs of Miranda but he evolves as an amateur pornographer. This symbolic rape suggests not only Clegg's fear of human interaction but also his abusive nature. The juxtaposition of sexual impotence and sexual abuse suggests the complex nature of Clegg's character.
The view of sexuality that Miranda displays is also problematic. Like Clegg, she is a virgin; however, she claims that she is not consumed by Victorian ideals on sex that Clegg displays. Yet, we learn that she is not willing to go to bed with G.P. when he asks her. The one time she says that G.P. could have gone to bed with her seems to be retrospective rationalization. When confronting the possibility of being raped by Clegg, Miranda tells herself: "[D]on't resist, don't resist"(C 127). This lack of resistance turns into an attempt on her part to weaken Clegg. She tries to seduce him in hopes of being set free. Yet her comment on the episode suggests something else: "In a nasty perverted way it was exciting"(C 251). There appears to be a movement towards sexual awakening in Miranda that is missing in Clegg.
The two views on sexuality reveal differing views on art. Perhaps the most obvious distinction is that Miranda is "artistic" while Clegg is "scientific." Miranda views art as something that brings its subjects to life. She posits: "When you draw something it lives and when you photograph it it dies"(C 58). For Clegg, photographs, his butterfly collection, and Miranda herself are art. The polarity between these two views is expressed in terms of life and death. Miranda tries to create and give life through her art whereas Clegg has to kill his specimens in order for him to feel creative. Even his narrative was written after Miranda's death. At one point Miranda asks Clegg to pick the best of a number of pictures. As expected, he picks "all those that looked most like the wretched bowl of fruit"(C 141). Clegg's fear of looking beyond the superficial suggests something deep in his character, the fear of love. Described as being full of emotion, art serves as a symbol of internal emotions and desires. Art that is "genuinely 'creative' . . . is [] nemo-killing"(A 51). That Miranda's art is becoming genuine indicates that she is confronting the nemo. However, Clegg's lack of originality signifies his being consumed by the "emptiness [he] feel[s]"(A 49).
The inability to understand the internal also poses a problem for Clegg as he realizes that Miranda is not the person he had once thought. As Miranda becomes assertive about her feelings, Clegg begins to find her less attractive. His view of women falls into two categories: virgins and whores. The anima figure that Clegg had once believed Miranda to be is subverted by her attempt to seduce him, her use of "improper" language and her never-ending battle to escape. Unlike Clegg, Miranda does show signs of progress in terms of her relationship with G.P. and within herself. At first, Miranda is smothered by the role of G.P. in her life. Miranda has accepted G.P. as an "animus" figure and has trouble separating herself from him. Miranda writes, for example, in her diary that many times she has disagreed with G.P., only to find that "a week later with someone else [she] find[s] [she's] arguing as he would"(C 153). Miranda is in a similar situation to Clegg at this point: "They both greatly admire a person of the opposite sex whom they feel disdain for but pretend to believe to be better than themselves" (Nodelman 338).
Miranda's own voice has been stifled, to some extent, by what she thinks is a better one. By appropriating G.P.'s voice, Miranda begins to believe that she is superior to other people; she explains:
Remembering things G.P. has said to me, and other people. Knowing I am rather a special person. Knowing I am intelligent, knowing that I am beginning to understand life much better than most people of my age. Even knowing that I shall never be so stupid as to be vain about it . . . I shall never let anyone see this. Even if it is the truth, it must sound vain. (C 155)
Miranda's concern with what other people might think is her weakness. She has been concerned with how G.P. will think of her, hoping for him to like her. Also, when she brings her friends over to G.P.'s, it appears as if she is trying to impress them with her friendship with him. Miranda's desire to impress people suggests a lack of self-confidence in her character. However, as the novel progresses, she matures and learns to respect herself for her own individuality.
Early in the novel, Miranda suggests that she is not capable of being authentic. She claims that she will never be a great artist because, "[she's] not egocentric enough. [She's] a woman"(C 63). Miranda identifies herself with the patriarchal, standard definition of "woman"; therefore, the nemo grows in her in relation to her knowledge of "general and personal inequality" (A 48) in society. She also presents a number of contradictions within her own character. On the night she tries to seduce Clegg she says: "You must realize that I've sacrificed all my principles tonight"(C 111). Bruce Woodcock suggests that this scene demonstrates that Miranda is "autonomous and challenges [Clegg's] fantasies"(32). Yet, it is through her actions that her potential for autonomy grows. Woodcock's assumption that Miranda has always been autonomous is misleading, creating a false sense of the direction of the novel. Miranda's principles suggest that she is "priggish," as Clegg claims. Early in the text she is young and does not understand herself; therefore, she is unable to comprehend Clegg. Her innocence is also seen in her views on the H-bomb: "It's despair that anyone can even contemplate the idea of dropping a bomb"(C 142). Her belief in pacifism is challenged when she claims that "you have to break principles sometimes to survive"(C 234). This recognition shows an advance in Miranda's character. Now she is able not only to judge Clegg but, more importantly, to judge herself. Realizing that "everything is relative"(A 212), Miranda has started on her journey to become her own "magician."
Throughout the novel Miranda searches for her own voice. Some of her naiveté begins to change as she matures. Her belief in the evil of the "H-bomb" changes when she realizes "being so weak seems wrong now too"(C 126). Miranda has shown her ability to overcome her innocent principles and reveals great strength, the knowledge that "[w]e are all sometimes of the Many"(A 212). When she tries to escape, she realizes that she may have to kill Clegg, but goes ahead with her attempt anyway. It seems that Miranda, who had been concerned with what other people felt about her, would not have been able to do this. Her development can also be seen in her changing attitude to her mother. At first Miranda had a low opinion of her. Faced with the situation of being a prisoner of Clegg, she realizes that she has "never given her [mother] enough sympathy. [She hadn't] given her this year . . . one half of the consideration [she has] given the beastly creature upstairs"(C 152). The potential for sympathy in Miranda suggests that she is becoming more aware of her own, and therefore other's, individuality: the "Eve" identity that is "tolerance . . . the most fundamental of all human wisdoms"(A 167). On thinking about G.P., she claims that she "would have gone to bed with him that night. . . . Not for his sake, but for being alive's"(C 202). However, this thought does not occur to Miranda until well into her captivity.
Miranda also recognizes that she has had a rather easy life compared to other people. Challenging her past, she claims that change is necessary. She explains:
All this business, it's bound up with my bossy attitude to life. I've always known where I'm going, how I want things to happen. And they have happened as I wanted, and I have taken it for granted that they have because I know where I'm going. But I have been lucky in all sorts of things. I've always tried to happen to life; but it's time I let life happen to me. (C 250)
A shift in Miranda's character is apparent by the acknowledgment that she has been lucky. Ironically, Miranda will never have the chance to "let life happen" to her. However, the misfortune of the ending of the novel does not undermine the implications of Miranda's development. The very last thing that Miranda says to Clegg is "'I forgive you'"(C 271). As Peter Conradi suggests, "[C]ritics who emphasize the book's warm and humane morality run the risk of prettifying its perceptions"(41). That she is able to forgive does not imply that the reader also has to forgive Clegg, but that one has to recognize Miranda for what she has become and what she might have become.
Almost two months after Miranda has been abducted by Clegg she is able to find a voice and discerns that she has not had a voice until this time. After trying to seduce Clegg, Miranda realizes that she has "done for the first time in [her] life something original"(C 254). That she is able to be genuine suggests not only development in her character, but also that she recognizes that her past was not really her own. Miranda says that the "pity Shakespeare feels for his Caliban, [she] feel[s] . . . for [hers]"(C 255). Clegg is not fully to blame as Miranda realizes that she shares responsibility for educating him. The novel does not suggest sympathy for Clegg, but does imply that it is necessary for him to be educated. Bruce Woodcock suggests that the novel "invites an almost voyeuristic interest from the reader"(27) and that the novel is "both an exercising and exorcism of power: it is after all [Fowles] who "kills" Miranda to make way for another version of the fantasy woman"(40). The novel may suggest this male ideology in Clegg, but to shift the blame onto Fowles is illogical. Woodcock's argument seems to be a justification of his own enjoyment of voyeurism with the text. Fowles's interest is "clearly with [Miranda] and all she represents in the novel"(Grace 255), the conflict between "Adam-" and "Eve-consciousness."
The death of Miranda, according
to Katherine Tarbox, "serves no purpose but to open the subject of death
to the reader's reluctant mind"(56). This statement holds some truth, but
Miranda's death has a much greater purpose. It implies the symbolic death
of the "few" at the hand of the "many," "Eve" by "Adam," an entire group
of people in society by another group. Unlike Clegg, who is unable to change,
Miranda is willing to face life with the realization that she has the potential
for further growth. She is "groping for her own authenticity. Her tragedy
[and that of society] is that she will never live to achieve it. Her triumph
is that one day she would have done so" (CO 235).