Lieutenant’s Woman highlights the theme of emancipation that permeates the narrative. John Fowles masterfully reconstructs a vivid and intricate portrayal of mid-Victorian England, a period situated precisely a century before the novel's creation. This novel transcends the boundaries of a mere historical narrative by delving deeply into the intricate relationship between individuals and their temporal context. It examines how personal freedom is intertwined with and often constrained by the societal and historical forces of a specific era. Through this exploration, Fowles not only provides a window into the past but also prompts reflection on the enduring struggle for individual autonomy against the backdrop of time itself.

John Fowles's novel The French Lieutenant’s Woman masterfully bridges two distinct eras, 1867 and 1967, to offer a dual form of liberation. He skillfully crafts a narrative that not only frees its characters from the oppressive constraints of Victorian England but also challenges the narrow perspectives of the 1960s. By setting much of the novel in the familiar Wessex region, a landscape immortalized by Thomas Hardy, Fowles invokes the classical naturalism of a previous century. In Hardy’s works, individuals often appear as powerless pawns against the sweeping forces of fate, a theme echoed and interrogated by Fowles.

Despite its roots in Victorian literary traditions, Fowles's work is distinguished by its modern sensibility. It is both a homage to the narrative style of the past, with its conversational tone and deterministic structures, and a critique of the lingering vestiges of Victorian thought that persisted into the 20th century. The novel presents itself as a pseudo-Victorian narrative, written with the insight of 1967, aiming to dismantle the cultural and social shackles that both periods impose. Through this innovative approach, Fowles not only revives the charm of 19th-century fiction but also offers a critical lens through which to view the mid-20th century's own societal limitations.

In the literary landscape of The French Lieutenant’s Woman, John Fowles stands as both guide and sage, employing his role as omniscient narrator to transcend the constraints of time and space. He deftly navigates the corridors of history, weaving in and out of the fictional realms he has crafted, with a command that is nothing short of audacious. This narrative is richly embroidered with footnotes, epigraphs, and authorial musings, blurring the lines between treatise and story, challenging conventional storytelling norms.

Fowles's narrative voice is playful, unabashedly flaunting its power. He contemplates the introduction of a baby carriage—a whimsical thought, as he acknowledges, since its invention lay a decade in the future. Such self-aware anachronisms abound, interwoven with nods to twentieth-century luminaries like Henry Moore, Alain Robbe-Grillet, Marshall McLuhan, and Jean-Paul Sartre. These references defy the linearity of history, creating a tapestry of past and present that celebrates narrative freedom.

This liberation stands in stark contrast to the plight of the novel’s characters, who remain ensnared within the rigid confines of Victorian society. While Fowles and his readers enjoy the liberty of imaginative exploration, the characters are bound by the social expectations and mores of their time, underscoring a poignant divide between narrative freedom and personal entrapment. Through this dichotomy, Fowles invites readers to reflect on the constraints of their own lives, while reveling in the boundless possibilities of fiction.

The novel is a masterclass in transcending temporal and literary boundaries, inviting readers to navigate the layered interplay between different eras. It teases the reader with its fluid transitions between 1867 and 1967, never allowing them to settle firmly in one period or the other. This dynamic approach not only liberates readers from the social constraints inherent in any single epoch but also pokes fun at the conventions of literature itself. "The French Lieutenant’s Woman" is a work that revels in its own unpredictability. The author, with a touch of irony, acknowledges the point at which characters and events start to disobey their creator, signaling their evolution into something more lifelike.

In this narrative labyrinth, the ending is deliberately left unresolved. We find Charles, the protagonist, alone, faced with the formidable "river of life." This metaphor for life's constant flux underscores the novel's commitment to movement and transformation. The rivers celebrated in the story are ever-flowing, embodying the novel’s resistance to stagnation. By challenging static narratives, "The French Lieutenant’s Woman" offers a transformative reading experience, urging its audience to embrace the fluidity of time and the artifice of fiction itself. Through its playful and innovative narrative style, the novel becomes a celebration of freedom, both from the confines of a single story and from the rigid framework of conventional storytelling.