Story structure relates to the psychological appeal of narrative, that which engages readers and builds in them a sense of anticipation—a desire to know what happens next. This blog series is meant to demonstrate the universality of story structure with plot breakdowns of award-winning and classic novels.

By David Griffin Brown

When Internal Conflict Takes Centre Stage

In addition to being a novelist, James Arthur Baldwin was also known for his essays, plays, poetry, and social activism. In much of his work, as in his most famous novel, Go Tell it on the Mountain, Baldwin writes about the experience of Black Americans facing discrimination and segregation. But when he sent Giovanni’s Room to his publisher, Knopf rejected the manuscript for straying too far from his previous work.  After all, the protagonist, David, is a white American in 1950s Paris struggling to come to terms with his sexuality. But according to Baldwin, “The sexual question and the racial question have always been intertwined.” In getting at one, he was critiquing both, and he added in later interviews that he did not want to complicate a story about homophobia with commentary about racism.

That’s not to say there isn’t racial tension between David and his Italian lover, but the novel’s central focus is on David’s all-consuming shame for his sexuality. Structurally, the story is very simple: the lovers meet, their chemistry is unquestionable, and the only real obstacle is David’s internal struggle. In the end, he leaves Giovanni, thinking he will hate himself less if he commits to a relationship with a woman, but of course that leaves him worse off than ever. What we have here is an unadorned tragic romance. There are no true subplots or side quests. Just the simplicity of David’s fatal flaw, which leaves us screaming for him to smarten up and accept himself for who he is. Of course, he doesn’t smarten up, and therein lies the emotional draw.

But Baldwin has one more trick up his sleeve to increase the stakes right from the first chapter: the story opens at the end, when everything is at its worst. David’s fiancée (now his ex) has left him. And his lover, Giovanni, will soon be executed by guillotine. We don’t yet know how the story will reach this point, and so we start out with the promise of a tragic mystery, such that even when the romance is going well, we know that everything will ultimately end badly.

Narrative Goal: the Reluctant Protagonist

Narrative is all about goals and resistance. As screenwriter Aaron Sorkin said, “I worship at the altar of intention and obstacle. Somebody wants something. Something's standing in their way of getting it. They want the money; they want the girl; they want to get to Philadelphia—doesn't matter. And if they need it, that's even better.”  

In a “traditional” narrative (or what the Ancient Greek dramaturgists called a comedy), the goal is relatable and deeply personal, such that the reader (or audience) cheers the protagonist toward victory. The alternative is the tragic structure. In most tragedies, the protagonist wants something completely stupid. Meanwhile, the reader knows it’s stupid, so our emotional draw flows out of cheering for the protagonist to turn their bullshit around and do the right thing. (A good example is The Picture of Dorian Gray.)

In Giovanni’s Room, this works a bit differently. The protagonist doesn’t have a goal that he is working toward. Instead, he is actively resisting a goal. Since it’s a romance, David’s goal is to fall in love, to reach that happily ever after with his boyfriend Giovanni. If he were to actively pursue this goal, the story would be boring, and it would also be over in a few pages. That’s because there are no significant external obstacles standing in the way of their relationship. Instead, the obstacle is entirely internal. David is ashamed to be gay, so he thwarts his chances at happiness every step of the way.

Plot Points

Post-Climax Consequences

The story opens at the end. David’s fiancée has left him and is on her way from France back to America. His lover Giovanni is awaiting execution. The stakes are set: this isn’t going to end well. Starting at this point also creates a mystery, something for the reader to wonder about as the story unfolds: how does it get to this point?

The Fatal Flaw, Misbelief, or Backstory Wound

Often a character’s misbelief is revealed slowly. We learn about their skewed perspective or their weakness as we see them mess up over and over again. In Giovanni’s Room, however, we have a reluctant AND reminiscent narrator, so Baldwin allows us to start out with a clear understanding of David’s fatal flaw: he is deeply ashamed of being gay.

David’s first queer experience was with his best friend Joey back in high school. While their night together was joyous, David couldn’t live with himself the next day. He rejected Joey and tried to reinvent himself with a rougher crowd. He also started drinking and almost died in a car crash. We also learn that much of David’s shame comes from his father, who lowkey suspects that his son might be gay. At one point he overhears his father say, “All I want for David is that he grow up to be a man.” He also calls David “Butch” and has no tolerance for femininity. Throughout all of this backstory overview, the reader can see the truth: David is gay, and no matter how much he tries to suppress it, he’s going to be miserable until he can finally accept himself.

Stasis

After high school, David left home and sought to remain in “constant motion,” drinking to excess but hating it, with a series of “meaningless” friendships and relationships with women. There’s an initial note of misogyny here, with many more to come. David despises what he perceives as his own femininity, so he also disrespects the women in his life. In running from his femininity and sexuality, he ends up in France and, initially, in a relationship with Hella, his fiancée-to-be. This whole time, he has avoided having sex with men, but then Hella leaves him to do her own soul-seeking in Spain.

A story’s stasis is where the protagonist’s motivation is established. We know that in his heart David wants to be with men. With Hella gone, his defenses are lowered. He finds himself in the company of other gay men, and there is no one (apart from himself) to judge David for acting on his true desire.

Inciting incident

David is hanging out with his older friend Jacques at a fancy gay bar. Despite the locale, David is still in full denial mode. He doesn’t really like Jacques whom he brands as a predator of young men, though he borrows money from him, and he also disdains “les folles”—men in the bar who dress in women’s clothes and embrace femininity. But then in walks the new barman, Giovanni, for a classic meet-cute moment. David is immediately swooning for this “insolent and dark and leonine” hunk. And Giovanni returns his interest. It’s love at first sight, or so it seems. Jacques is a bit annoyed though, in part because he’s likewise crushing on Giovanni. David is also warned by a strange man whom he likens to a vampire that he should stay away from the handsome barman or risk great unhappiness. David, however, is overcome with “ferocious excitement.” In other words, the protagonist’s goal is set. All he must do is get out of his own way. But that turns out to be easier said than done.

Initial rising action

Later that night, Jacques issues another warning: he insists that David is lucky to be figuring out who he is at his young age. If he waits until he’s older, like Jacques, the struggle will destroy him. His message is simple: quit pretending to be straight. When he commands David to love Giovanni and to let this man love him in return, he’s not suggesting that they should be together forever, but that they should use this opportunity to become their authentic selves.

Once the bar closes, David heads for breakfast with Giovanni, Jacques, and the bar owner, Guillaume. When they have a moment alone, Giovanni introduces a note of foreshadowing: he once slept with Guillaume in exchange for a work permit and a job, and ever since then their relationship has been tenuous. Guillaume is another predator who trades favours for sex with desperate young men.

Point of no return: the consummation

In a traditional romance, sex often doesn’t come right away—it’s dangled as a promise or payoff, both for the would-be lovers and the reader. In some cases, there might be an early sex scene, but then the couple is driven apart, such that the reader spends most of the second act yearning for them to get back together. Giovanni’s Room is not a traditional romance—it’s not about courtship but rather about overcoming one’s self.

The pair leaves Jacques and Guillaume and returns to Giovanni’s small rented room. David is still in denial, but he is overwhelmed by his attraction to Giovanni, which far surpasses anything he ever felt for Hella. His fatal flaw is clear. Just like Jacques, the reader knows what David needs if he is to find happiness.

Rising action continues

The relationship enters a brief period of bliss in which we see what the lovers stand to lose. They stay up all night and sleep all day, locked within the safety and privacy of Giovanni’s room. Eventually, however, David confesses his relationship with Hella. They have separated but not broken up. Yet his lover isn’t concerned. Here too we get some misogyny from Giovanni as he belittles Hella. He also demeans the feminine—in women and in himself. But unlike David, he has come to accept his sexuality. As such, he doesn’t see Hella as a threat. Readers, on the other hand, know in advance that her return will spell trouble for their relationship.

Months go by. The safety of Giovanni’s room evaporates as David begins to hate the small, cramped, and filthy space. The room is at times heaven, but more often it is hell. This is especially true when Giovanni heads out for work, assuming the masculine role and leaving David to wallow in what he sees as feminine dependency.

Midpoint reversal

David, as noted earlier, is a reluctant protagonist. He rails against himself and seethes with shame. However, he doesn’t do anything to change his situation. He doesn’t want to change it. He loves Giovanni even as he hates himself for it. Instead, he waits for the world to come along and break the spell.

The midpoint reversal, the point at which the protagonist is forced to take a new path, arrives in the form of two letters. The first is from David’s father: he refuses to send any more money to support his son’s listless wandering. If there is a woman in his life, David must bring her home. Enough is enough. The second letter is from Hella: she is done with her soul-searching and will return to Paris in ten days. David’s initial reaction is relief. As he had hoped, the world has made a decision for him.

Rising action continues

In an effort to prepare himself for Hella’s arrival, David goes for a long walk, talks to a prostitute, and eventually meets up with an American friend, Sue, whom he seduces. This reignites his shame about his sexuality, and now he dreads Hella’s return.

He eventually returns to Giovanni’s room to find his lover drunk and angry. When Guillaume, jealous of David, accused his young barman of theft, Giovanni tried to fight him and got fired as a result. David promises to come up with some money, but he makes no attempt to do so. In the days that follow, Giovanni begins chipping away at the bricks in the room. He says he wants to renovate the space and build a bookshelf. He knows the relationship has reached a breaking point; he’s trying to give David a reason to stay, as if the room itself is the problem.

Throughout the novel, Giovanni’s room is symbolic of their relationship—what starts as a sanctuary quickly turns into a claustrophobic trap, mirroring David's growing internal conflict. Giovanni’s desperate attempts to chip away at the bricks are a futile effort to change their reality, but the oppressive atmosphere only deepens their inevitable decline. The room's suffocating walls encapsulate the tragic nature of their love, leaving both characters with nowhere to escape.

Third act spat and false victory

Another common feature in a traditional romance is the third act spat—the lovers have a big blowup that seems to dash their chances of ever getting together (or getting back together). In a comedic format, this is usually the “all is lost” plot point. Since Giovanni’s Room is a tragedy, this fight leads instead into a false victory.

David finally relents and borrows money from Jacques, but when he refers to their apartment as hideous, the tension between him and Giovanni crests and they almost come to blows, each with bricks in hand. “We stared at each other across a narrow space that was full of danger, that almost seemed to roar like flame.” But then they come together, they kiss, and their love is once again intact. However, David still refuses to allow it permanence. “And at moments like this I felt that we were merely enduring and committing the longer and lesser and more perpetual murder.”

Climax

Hella returns to Paris. David redeclares his love for her and proposes marriage. He disappears into her arms for three days and nights, seeking “to drive out fire with fire.” On the third day, they run into Giovanni and Jacques, and it’s all kinds of awkward. David promises to meet them for a drink later. Afterward, he disparages Giovanni to Hella and agrees that they should soon leave Paris together, but later he softens and even admits to her, “I love him in a way. I really do.”

David finally returns to break up with Giovanni. It’s at this point that his lover reveals his backstory: he was married to a woman in Italy, but when his son was stillborn, he left. At first, he tries to reason with David, to force him to stop lying to himself, but the fight eventually reaches a plateau. They both know it’s over. David spends the night, and in the morning when he gets up to leave, they stare at each other with nothing left to say.

“His body, which I had come to know so well, glowed in the light and charged and thickened the air between us. Then something opened in my brain, a secret, noiseless door swung open, frightening me: it had not occurred to me until that instant that, in fleeing from his body, I confirmed and perpetuated his body’s power over me.”

Resolution—the tragic consequences

David learns what happens next from Jacques—a letter arrives in a small blue envelope. Giovanni, penniless, tried to get his job back. He presumably slept with Guillaume, who still refused to hire him, after which the ex-barman strangled his ex-boss to death. It’s not long before Giovanni is captured, confesses, and is sentenced to death.

David and Hella have rented a room in the South of France. He has begun to despise her, and when he learns about his ex-lover’s fate, he finds himself a sailor and disappears for three days and nights, just as he did to Giovanni. When Hella finds him with the sailor at a gay bar, she confesses that she’s always known the truth and breaks off their engagement.

Here the reminiscent narration ends—we’ve finally caught up with the point in time where the novel began. David is hanging out in the rented room, preparing to leave, agonizing about everything that’s led to this point, wallowing in his guilt. He stands before the mirror, cursing his “vile” body, then gets dressed and leaves.

“The morning weighs on my shoulder with the dreaded weight of hope and I take the blue envelope which Jacques had sent to me and tear it slowly into many pieces, watching them dance in the wind, watching the wind carry them away. Yet, as I turn and begin walking toward the waiting people, the wind blows some of them back on me.”

Why is Giovanni’s Room a classic?

Giovanni’s Room stands out as a classic because it delivers an intense portrayal of internal conflict, masterful dialogue, and brilliant writing overall. Baldwin’s characterization captures the raw pain of shame and the struggle for self-acceptance—themes that are, unfortunately, still all too relevant today. Even as society becomes more accepting, homophobia and misogyny persist, leaving many queer kids to grow up in environments where self-loathing is fomented by intolerant parents or communities. David’s internalized shame, rooted in his father’s toxic expectations, is a reality that still resonates for those grappling with their identity in the face of bigotry and prejudice. Baldwin’s exploration of this emotional turmoil is a sobering reminder that, for many, the path to self-acceptance is still fraught with obstacles imposed by a less-than-accepting world.

Reminiscent Narrator

The reminiscent narrator is a technique I occasionally encounter in the manuscripts I edit, where the narrator speaks from a future point in time. Often, this device is used sporadically and without clear intent, leading to a few common pitfalls. For example, it can undermine tension by assuring readers that the protagonist will survive to tell the tale, thus diluting the immediacy of the narrative. Additionally, when the narrator reflects from the future, it can disrupt the reader’s immersion in the story’s present.

However, Baldwin’s use of a reminiscent narrator in Giovanni’s Room is a masterclass in how this technique can serve a story. From the outset, we know that the romance will end tragically, that David’s relationship with Hella is doomed, and that Giovanni will face execution. This knowledge introduces a sense of mystery and heightens the stakes from the beginning. Also, Baldwin primarily uses reminiscent narration as a framing device, allowing the story to unfold in the present tense without constant reminders of the narrator’s future perspective. This balance maintains the reader’s immersion while also using the future perspective to build intrigue and tension.

In Conclusion

The beauty of Giovanni’s Room lies in its simplicity. The structure is straightforward, with minimal complications or subplots, yet Baldwin’s skillful writing and characterization make it compelling. By creating a reluctant protagonist whose internal conflict serves as the primary obstacle, Baldwin has crafted a story that is as emotionally engaging as it is structurally sound. It’s an important reminder that sometimes the most profound narratives are those that explore the human experience with uncomplicated and unflinching honesty.

David Griffin Brown is an award-winning short fiction writer and co-author of Immersion and Emotion: The Two Pillars of Storytelling. He holds a BA in anthropology from UVic and an MFA in creative writing from UBC, and his writing has been published in literary magazines such as the Malahat Review and Grain. In 2022, he was the recipient of a New Artist grant from the Canada Council for the Arts. David founded Darling Axe Editing in 2018, and as part of his Book Broker interview series, he has compiled querying advice from over 100 literary agents. He lives in Victoria, Canada, on the traditional territory of the Songhees and Esquimalt Nations.