Pantagruel is big. There's no doubt about that. When he was a baby, it took the milk of 4,600 cows to quench his thirst--"il humoit le laict de quatre mille six cens vaches" (235). Four great chains of iron-- "quatre grosses chaines de fer" (236)--kept him in his cradle. Nevertheless, Pantagruel grows up and studies in all of the great universities of France without any trouble. Likewise, he has no problem browsing in the "libraire de Saint Victor"--he doesn't need a magnifying glass to read those tiny little books. And he speaks to Panurge as to a peer. So maybe there's a little doubt after all as to just how big Pantagruel was. Or maybe a lot.
Some critics have read the discrepancies in the size of Rabelais' giants as mere authorial oversights. But such simple dismissals are far from obvious. Rabelais creates disconcerting images throughout his "pantagruelicques" tales, and the shifting size of his giants preserves our sense of astonishment. Readers inevitably find it difficult to visualize Rabelais' characters, and this difficulty effectively problematizes our own vision.
Visual elements play an indisputably crucial role in Rabelais' great tales. The importance of the visual in these texts would suggest that a study of focalization might be in order. And this is what I propose. First, let's look at the theoretical framework.

Focalization
In Figures III in 1972, Gérard Genette articulated a key distinction in terms of "point of view" or "perspective" in a text. He notes that in any textual analysis, we must pose the following questions: first, Which character's point of view orients the narrative perspective?, and secondly, Who is the narrator? In other words, Who sees? and Who speaks? (203).
Many readers and critics fail to make this crucial distinction, even though it is clearly possible, in fiction as in "reality," for one speaker to express the vision of another. Even in a first person narrative, the instances of focalization and of narration may remain distinct. The narrator "knows" almost always more than the hero does, even if the hero and the narrator are in fact the same person.
Genette identifies three types of focalization. First of all, there is what he calls the classic narrative, the non-focalized narrative, or the narrative "à focalisation zéro." Secondly, there is internal focalization, which can be fixed (as in a text where everything is seen through the eyes of a single character, which is often the case in the Nouveau Roman), variable (as in Mme Bovary , where it is sometimes Emma who sees and sometimes Charles), or multiple (the epistolary novel would be a prime example). Thirdly, there is external focalization (which one finds in Balzac, when the enigmatic hero acts before our eyes without our being permitted to know his thoughts or emotions.) As Genette points out, a given text may change from one type of focalization to another; no rule says that focalization must be constant.
For Genette, focalization is essentially a restriction. We can never see everything in the narrator's world, and it is through focalization that this limitation occurs. It would seem then difficult to imagine how a text could be constructed without some focalization, at focalisation zéro, in Genette's term. And in fact, critics who follow Genette (Mieke Bal, Shlometh Rimmon-Kenan, Suzanne Fleishmann) prefer a binary paradigm.
As Bal points out, one cannot present any kind of event verbally without presenting it through a certain vision; zero focalization is thus impossible. A narrator always has a point of view, a way of seeing things. Some kind of focalization is thus always present in a text. The critical distinction is whether the focalization is internal or external.
If the focalization is internal, Bal explains, it is located in a character who participates as an actor in a narrative. If it is external, it is located in an anonymous agent outside of the narrative. It's as simple as that.
Even this seemingly simple distinction, however, becomes problematic in Rabelais. Rabelais constructs a so-called narrator "Alcofribas Nasier" who appears in the story from time to time. It would seem thus to be a case of internal focalization. But the status of this character narrator is not always clear. He is not even always there. He seems to appear much more often in the Quart Livre than in Pantagruel, for example; and yet, when he appears in Pantagruel, his presence seems more noteworthy. We'll leave this question open for now.
According to Bal, focalization is essentially relational. There is always a focalized object and a focalizing subject, and focalization is the relation between these two poles.
The question of focalization has been studied a great deal in more recent texts (Flaubert, Proust, Camus...), but has been largely neglected in earlier works. This negligence stems, in part, from a fear that such a reading would prove anachronistic. But this is far from the case. To claim that every literary work written before a certain time period had the same focalization or an uninteresting focalization is a broad assumption indeed. Fleischmann, at least, has studied questions of focalization in some medieval Spanish romances which were first printed in the sixteenth century.
We must now extend studies of focalization to earlier texts. Such a study of Rabelais, for example, where the narrative voice/s is/are far from stable, is particularly fruitful, because Rabelais problematizes the question of focalization himself.

Focalization in Pantagruel
The question of narration is, as we have said, central to the question of focalization. In Pantagruel, we are to believe, so it seems, that the events are narrated by "feu M. Alcofribas, Abstracteur de Quinte Essence" (211). We could, of course, simply assume that "Alcofribas" is nothing but a pseudonym (as "Alcofribas Nasier" is the anagram of François Rabelais), but it's not quite as easy as that.
As we separate narration from focalization, so must we also separate the je-narrator from the je-character (and, of course, from the je-author), although that's not so easy either, especially since the je's often converge. Rabelais makes explicit this problem of the je. We might assume that it is Rabelais--the historical person--who speaks in the author's prologue, for example. However, even in his extra-literary existence, the author seems to do nothing but serve Pantagruel. The narrator says he writes "des horribles faictz et prouesses de Pantagruel, lequel j'ay servy à gaiges dès ce que je fuz hors de page jusques à présent, que par son congié je m'en suis venu visiter mon païs de vache, et a sçavoir si en vie estoyt parent mien aulcun" (219). ["...of the horrible deeds and exploits of Pantagruel, whom I served as a servant from the moment I was 'off the page' up until now, when by his leave I came to visit my old stomping-g Focalization is not much easier to pin down than narration. Rabelais does bring up issues of seeing throughout Pantagruel, and these issues prove to be a window into the larger issue of focalization. In his brief description of people who pray to God for water, the narrator makes no less than four references to seeing: "supplians à Dieu omnipotent les vouloir regarder de son oeil de clemence en tel desconfort, visiblement furent veues de terre sortir grosses goutes d'eau, comme quand quelque personne sue copieusement." (230) ["as they were begging the omnipotent God to look upon them with his merciful eye in their discomfort, great drops of water were visibly seen come out of the earth, as when some person sweats profusely."]
Rabelais continues to highlight the theme of seeing during Pantagruel's university tour. Pantagruel plays more than he studies, it seems, but it's because he wants to spare his eyes: "au regarde de se rompre fort la teste à estudier, il ne le fasoit mie, de peur que la veue luy diminuast, mesmement que un quidam des regens disoit souvent en ses lectures qu'il n'y a chose tant contraire à la veue comme est la maladie des yeux." (243) ["as for racking his brain studying, he didn't do that at all, for fear that his eyesight would weaken, because a guy at school often proclaimed that there is nothing worse for the eyesight than sore eyes."]
Focalization is of particular interest in the presentation of Panurge. It is Pantagruel who does the seeing at the beginning of chapter 9, when Panurge is introduced for the first time. Seeing Panurge only in the distance--"De tant loing que le vit Pantagruel" (263)--Pantagruel is happy with what he sees. It is through Pantagruel's eyes that we meet Panurge. The fact that it is Pantagruel who focalizes Panurge here is important, given the ambiguous role Panurge will play in the book. If the je-narrator had focalized him, perhaps Panurge's character would have been more clearly defined or less wholly positive.
Panurge himself brings up seeing as well. When he tells of his heroic excape from the "turcqs," he compares his "roustisseur" to the hundred-eyed Argus (289). However, depite the close eye of this watchman, Panurge gets the upper hand. It is he who ends up seeing, not the Turk, just as it is through his eyes that we see his "heroic" escape. Panurge explains that it is his own watchful eye which made possible his escape: "Quand je vys qu'il ne me tournoit plus en routissant, je le regard et voy qu'il s'endort." (289) ["When I saw that he wasn't turning me anymore as he roasted me, I looked at him and saw that he had fallen asleep."]
The theme of seeing recurs in Panurge's tale. As he flees, he turns back to look at the city in flames. He says, "Je me retourné arriere, comme la femme de Loth, et vys toute la ville bruslant, dont je fuz tant aise que je me cuydee conchier de joye; mais Dieu m'en punit bien." (293) ["I looked behind me, just like Lot's wife, and I saw the city burning, which made me so happy that I thought I would shit my pants with joy; but God punished me good."] Panurge's visual mastery proves to be less an example of taking charge of his own fate than a blind failure to take into account the vision of others. Like Nero, Panurge celebrates while the city burns. And he is justly punished for it by a dog attack.
When the je-narrator focalizes, we have a different picture of Panurge than we had when Pantagruel or Panurge himself did. In chapter 17, the je speaks directly to the other characters for the first time. At the beginning of the chapter, he appears in order to make a brief comment about something he sees which makes him fear that something is wrong with Panurge. He bases his decision "à ce que je voy à vostre physionomie" (307) ["as to what I see in your physionomy."]
In this chapter, Panurge persuades the je-character to lend a him a bit of money. The two go into the city where Panurge uses the borrowed money to steal even more money from the pardoners. Panurge would perhaps not have exposed his ruse and greed to Pantagruel quite yet; the focalization of the je-buddy allows us to see another side of Panurge. It is an important key toward understanding the character of Panurge who, at least in this book, remains ambiguous.
Before he tells of the great battle between Pantagruel and Loup Garou, the narrator calls upon his Muses to give him strength--and he asks for a drink. He thus underlines the importance of this battle; and in fact, focalization, or at least seeing, is at the forefront of the whole episode. Importantly, the narrator frees himself of the obligation to focalize by transferring focalization once more to the eyes of Pantagruel.
Pantagruel fixes his gaze upon God. "Pantagruel, jectant ses yeulx au ciel, se recommanda à Dieu de bien bon cueur" (361) ["Pantagruel, casting his eyes upon the heavens, pleaded with God with a pure heart."] He affirms his faith that God is watching him as well: "Seigneur Dieu, qui tousjours as esté mon protecteur et mon servateur, tu vois la destresse en laquelle je suis maintenant" (361) ["Lord God, who have always been my protector and my savior, you see the distress I am in now."]
Having heard the voice of God, Pantagruel sees Loup Garou approaching. "Voyant Pantagruel que Loup Garou approcheoit la guelle ouverte" (362) ["Pantagruel, seeing--note imperfect aspect of verb--that Loup Garou was approaching with open jaw"], and he goes toward him. We learn that Pantagruel has the advantage, having "tousjours bon pied et bon oeil" (362) ["always a good foot and a good eye".] And at each step, it is what Pantagruel sees which makes the battle advance. Notice the narration of the fight: "Quoy voyant, Pantagruel gualentement ses bras desplie" (362) ["Which, seeing, Pantagruel unfolds his arms gallantly"], "Voyant Pantagruel qu'il s'amusoit à tirer sa dicte masse" (363) [Pantagruel, seeing that he was moving his said mass"], "Lors que approcher les veid, Pantagruel print Loup Garou par les deux piedz" (364) ["When he saw them approaching, Pantagruel grabbed Loup Garou by his two feet"], and "Finablement, voyant que tous estoient mors, getta le corps de Loup Garou tant qu'il peut contre la ville" (365) ["Finally, seeing that all were dead, he threw Loup Garou's body as hard as he could against the city."] In the entire narration, the only mention of a focalization which is not Pantagruel's is a brief intervention of the narrator, when he interrupts to say "Faictes votre compte qu'il n'en eschappa un seul, et, à veoir Pantagruel, sembloit..." (365) ["Count for yourself that not a single one escaped, and to see Pantagruel, it seemed..."]
This manner of presenting the battle serves two purposes. First of all, the importance of seeing highlights the fact that each of Pantagruel's actions is in reaction to Loup Garou. Pantagruel is never on the offensive. Secondly, it shows the blindness of Loup Garou. In contrast to the many references to what Pantagruel sees, we never know if Loup Garou sees anything at all. The agressor's shortsightedness is important. Pantagruel won the battle by seeing attentively. Thus, the question of focalization meets the question of interpretation. Like Pantagruel, the reader must read closely in order to act and interpret fairly and accurately.
In chapter 32, the question of focalization dominates the narration. Here, "Alcofrybas" is identified as "auteur," but he also plays an important role in the story itself. He is no longer a chronicler, as he had been when he went downtown with Panurge. He jumps right into Pantagruel's great mouth.
"Alcofrybas" the narrator realizes just how remarkable what is about to happen is, and he lets us know. Believe it or not, he really is talking about himself, of "je, qui vous fais ces tant veritables contes" (378) ["I, who tell you these so entirely true tales."] The je-character mentions that he was "caché dessoubz une fueille de bardane" (378) ["hid beneath a bardane leaf"], just as the je-narrator was hidden between the "fueilles" ["leaves"/ "pages"] of the book.
From the time he enters Pantagruel's mouth, the je points to his role as focalizer. "Quand je les veiz ainsi bien couvers" (378) ["When I saw them all covered"], and "Mais, ô dieux et déesses, que veiz je là?" (378) ["But, o gods and goddesses, what did I see there?"] Careful observation is central to the episode. In Pantagruel's mouth--a place we don't usually see-- Alcofribas discovers that there is more to see and to know than he had ever expected. This is what Alcofribas has to learn, and what the cabbage-planter inside Pantagruel's mouth already knows. And it's what the reader of Pantagruel must learn as well.

Conclusion
Why do we keep coming back to the narrator in our attempt to identify the focalizer in Pantagruel? Apart from the few important variations we have noted, the focalizer in Pantagruel is the je, whether it be the je-narrator or the je-character. But we mustn't forget the "other half" of an analysis of focalization--the focalized object. In fact, what is focalized here is not only action but also narration. The narration is circular, in a sense. This is why we keep returning to the narrator. He wants us to look at him.
In Pantagruel, the narration is foregrounded. This is not to say that the narrated events are irrelevant. But it is important that we see not only the story but also the narrator who tells it, that we see his hands as they write.
With this focalized narration, Rabelais practically forces his readers to interpret for themselves. Here, then, is the importance of the theme of seeing. First of all, seeing highlights the fact that focalization plays an important role in the text. Rabelais foregrounds narration, and he wants his readers to take note. But there's more than that. Rabelais also wants his readers to be aware of their own seeing, so that they will take responsibility for what they see and for what they read. Just like Pantagruel in the battle against Loup Garou, readers must look closely and react appropriately-they must, that is to say, interpret.

Further study
Such an analysis of Pantagruel is useful, because it is here that Rabelais establishes the general narrative and focalizing situation that he will use throughout his books. And the same kinds of questions keep cropping up.
In his article, "Les Paroles Dégelées," which deals with the last chapters of the Quart Livre, Michel Jeanneret notes several of the same elements we have examined here. He points out the importance of seeing in Rabelais. According to Jeanneret, in the Quart Livre, Rabelais shows what happens when the eyes get "stuck," so to speak. The Papimanes are characterized by the "tyrannie du regard" (18) ["tyranny of the gaze"], for example; they are so preoccupied with what they see (and with what those whom they see have seen!) that they are trapped in literality. Seeing is crucial, but it's not enough. We have to move beyond it and interpret.
This is just one example of an interpretive question posed by a problem of focalization. Such questions of focalization are pertinent throughout Rabelais' texts. Rabelais continually problematizes the issue of seeing, calling upon his readers to look for themselves and to see what's going on. So let's heed his call; let's look into the text, and see who is doing the seeing and just what's being seen.

 Carrie Klaus
University of Illinois

Bal, Mieke. Narratology: Introduction to the theory of narrative. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1988.

 Fleischmann, Suzanne. Tense and Narrativity. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1990.

 Genette, Gérard. Figures III. Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1972.

 Jeanneret, Michel. "Les paroles dégelées (Rabelais, Quart Livre 48-65)." Littérature 17 (1975): 14-30.

 Rabelais, François. OEuvres complètes, tome I. Ed. Pierre Jourda. Paris: Garnier, 1962.

 Rimmon-Kenan, Shlomith. Narrative Fiction: Contemporary Poetics. London: Methuen, 1983.