How can I close-read the following selection from Flaubert's Parrot? "…[I]f novelists truly wanted to simulate the delta of life’s possibilities, this is what they’d do. At the back of the book would be a set of sealed envelopes in various colours. Each would be clearly marked on the outside: Traditional Happy Ending; Traditional Unhappy Ending; Traditional Half-and-Half Ending; Deus ex Machina; Modernist Arbitrary Ending; End of the World Ending; Cliffhanger Ending; Dream Ending; Opaque Ending; Surrealist Ending; and so on. You would be allowed only one, and would have to destroy the envelopes you didn’t select. That’s what I call offering the reader a choice of endings; but you may find me quite unreasonably literal-minded. As for the hesitating narrator—look, I’m afraid you’ve run into one right now. It might be because I’m English. You’d guessed that, at least—that I’m English? I … I … Look at the seagull up there. I hadn’t spotted him before. Slipstreaming away, waiting for the bits of gristle from the sandwiches. Listen, I hope you won’t think this is rude, but I really must take a turn on the deck; it’s becoming quite stuffy in the bar here."

There is a significant tonal shift between the first and second paragraphs of this section of text. In the first paragraph, the first-person narrative is authoritative: while the commentary is subjective (writing "that's what I call . . . " rather than utilizing a passive voice) the points are laid out clearly. This reflects the subject matter, the "set of sealed envelopes" the author uses figuratively to "simulate the delta of life's possibilities." These are "clearly marked" on the outside, and the author then offers an array of accordingly clear and unambiguous options ("Traditional Happy Ending; Traditional Unhappy Ending," and so on.) The use of capitalization adds to the sense that these labels are official, or authoritative; the narrator describes himself as "literal-minded" in having defined the options of life in such a way. He also states, with firm decisiveness, that the envelope-chooser should "destroy" (a forceful, active choice of verb) the unselected envelopes, as undone actions and unchosen paths die in the wake of a life lived.
In the second paragraph, the decisive, authoritative tone breaks down completely, disintegrating into a series of fragmentary half-sentences marked by em-dashes, ellipses and diversions. The speaker repeats himself ("I'm English") and addresses the reader directly, apologetically, "Listen . . . " before excusing himself. He attempts to distract the attention of the reader from his confusion by referring to irrelevant details, such as his nationality and "the seagull." The tone is intimate, conveying a sense of immediacy, and the discomfort of the speaker is suddenly palpable. The decisiveness of the first paragraph, it now appears, is a front for the speaker to hide behind, an uncertain, "hesitating narrator."