Our Mutual Read

The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

2010-12-29T03:01:00.001-05:00

This was my first Sherlock Holmes, and it very much lived up to my expectations. In this novel Holmes is called from London to consider the death of Charles Baskerville, apparantly by a crazed and superhuman dog. Reports have come from the manor of a ghostly, dog-like creature that haunts the hills. When Charles's heir arrives to take up residence at Baskerville Hall, Holmes is convinced that the young Baskerville's life is in danger. Watson takes up residence at Baskerville Hall to watch out for Henry Baskerville's safety. When Watson notices strange things happening in the moors, the reader starts to wonder if, in fact, there is something supernatural haunting the moors.

The Hound of the Baskervilles is certainly an engaging read. I stayed up late to finish it, and I can imagine that reading it in serials would create great anticipation for the next installment.

The one shortfall I found was in my ability to visualize the scenery. I'm not entirely familiar with Dartmoor, and it was difficult sometimes to understand the placement of Baskerville Hall and the surrounding terrain. That's not entirely Doyle's fault, and I certainly did get the sense that the countryside was hilly and desolate.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles (Wordsworth, 1999, orig. 1901) ISBN: 1840224002

Marcella by Mrs. Humphrey Ward

2010-12-26T00:45:00.002-05:00

This book is a Victorian family saga, focused on a family estate, a spurned lover, and a devious villain. Marcella Boyce is young, bright, and taken with socialism. When her parents inherit the family estate in the country Marcella takes up the miserable conditions of the local workforce as her cause. She falls in love with the local favorite son, a Conservative, vying for a seat in Parliament. Socialist Marcella must discover if she can live with a man with different politics, and her feelings on the issue threaten to damage a number of lives.

Marcella shares many of the conventions of the late-Victorian novel. The lead character is intellectually inclined and socially-minded, but her gender ensures that her attention to socio-political issues will either make her look foolish or lead to her demise. The late-Victorian countryside offers no real place for a politically active woman. Ward also gives the reader a strong sense that the best thing for Marcella would be marriage, though Marcella is generally unable to see this for herself. The single woman's folly is readily apparent.

Ward offers a complicated plot and interesting characterizations. That said, I had to pace myself in reading this rather long novel, as Ward is entirely conventional in her treatment of women like Marcella Boyce, and I find Victorian characterizations of women so pat. Oddly enough, I find that to be especially true of books written by Victorian women. It's clear that authors like Mrs. Humphrey Ward were looking for an outlet for intelligent women, but they were still too limited by Victorian gender conventions to be able to revolutionary change in their literature.

Mrs. Humphrey Ward, Marcella (Penguin, 1985, orig. 1894) ISBN: 0140161031, 560 p.

Trumpets Sound No More

2010-12-19T20:03:00.004-05:00

Trumpets sound no more / Jon Redfern
Toronto: Rendezvous Crime, c2007.

248 p.

This is one of my NeoVictorian choices for this challenge: it is set in 1840 London, England, the week before Christmas, and circles around the world of the theatre. A perfect choice for me: seasonal and Victorian at the same time.

This is Redfern's second mystery novel -- his first was a contemporary story, but in this one all of his interests in Victorian theatre and in crime come together to create a complex story with shades of Dickens about it. He's a Canadian writer, and an English professor, who wrote a thesis on Victorian opera and melodrama as a grad student, and his familiarity with this era shows.

There's been a murder of a young and fashionable theatre manager, discovered on the morning of Saturday the 19th of December. Inspector Owen Endersby is given six days, only until Christmas Eve, to find out who the culprit was. Fortunately, Inspector Endersby is very resourceful, and he and his wife are already theatre fans and have some connections in that world -- which comes in useful. Endersby, like many Dickensian characters, deals with all levels of society, from actresses and coster girls to the wealthy and important patrons of the theatre and of the newly formed London Police force. Even without modern forensic methods like fingerprinting or blood analysis, he relies on a scientific, evidence based investigation, rather than simply arresting the most convenient suspect to make his superiors happy.

I liked the character of Endersby and his wife; they gave a very solid centre to the book. But Redfern doesn't shy away from presenting the members of the large cast as complex characters who have secret failings, from drug use to blackmail and usury. It was an entertaining mystery with a puzzling but not baffling line of clues -- I did guess 'who did it' but only a few pages before it was revealed. The setting really shines; Victorian London in all its glory and squalor comes to life in many small details. And the aspects of theatre life were especially interesting for me - I will recommend this to my actor friends. There are some minor characters who were particularly memorable, mainly the young actresses (and one young man) who are trying to make a living by going on the stage. Their lives are bleak but they live for the moments they can participate in the illusion of the theatre.

I am not sure if Redfern intends to write another book featuring this Inspector, but his character is deep and complicated enough to carry a series, if so. I hope I'll find out that another one is being written, but even so, I don't know if it could match this marvellous combination of my favourite era and my favourite holiday, mixed in with the magic of the theatre. This one is well worth reading.

(cross-posted at The Indextrious Reader)

Wilkie Collins' The Woman in White

2010-12-17T20:52:00.004-05:00

The Woman in White / Wilkie Collins
Markham, ON: Penguin Canada, 1984, c1859-60.
648 p.

Yes, I freely admit, I hadn't read this book until just this fall! I love Wilkie Collins -- I've read many of his other works (Armadale is my favourite) but somehow I just hadn't gotten around to reading this specific one, the book that Collins himself preferred, so much so that he asked for "Author of The Woman in White" to be inscribed on his tombstone.

It was so worth it. I loved it. One of the things I really enjoy about Collins is his awareness of and focus on women's status in Victorian society. The Woman in White deals with the way in which women are reliant on men's money and men's wishes, both as a dependent daughter / niece / other female relative and even more so as a wife.

There are a few women who are vital in this story: Anne Catherick, the original 'woman in white' and Laura Fairlie and her half-sister Marian Halcombe. Anne is a mysterious wraith who first appears to Walter Hartwright when he is walking to London one night, and is the key to the entire mystery as the book goes along. Laura, who looks very much like Anne, ends up being married to Sir Percival Glyde on her dying father's wishes even though her personal preferences lead her more in the direction of Walter. And Marian is a fearless, staunch supporter of both Laura and Walter. Once Laura (a respectable heiress) becomes Lady Glyde, a new character is introduced to their lives... a shady Italian friend of Percival's, Count Fosco.

All these characters spin around each other in complex webs of deceit and desires. Marian's powerful personality is a more than a match for the excessively charismatic yet chilling Fosco. Laura herself is a little bland, but as the love interest I suppose she wasn't allowed to be too ornery or individualistic. The story is told in a series of discrete narratives -- Walter's experience, Marian's diary, letters and affidavits from varied bit players, and so on. This plethora of perspectives makes the story multifaceted and utterly absorbing. It remains an exciting thriller even today; and the treatment of the women involved and the lengths they have to go to in order to survive will make you livid.

Really, there is no need for me to describe the plot or the progress of the story. It is enough of a classic that most people likely have a vague idea of the outlines of the plot, and telling any more detail would ruin the thrill of the reading experience. What I want to share is simply that while long and involved, this is a great book with a sensational plot that will keep you turning pages, while also being full of social commentary and great characters. It's a classic that still has power to move us, to make us consider the plight of others and view our world differently.

Definitely recommended...an enjoyable, lengthy read, perfect for the holidays when you have more time available to read and are in the Victorian mood.

(this was cross-posted at The Indextrious Reader)

Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope

2010-12-16T09:46:00.002-05:00

Two whole weeks of Anthony Trollope! It's my turn for a review of Barchester Towers, the second book in his Barsetshire Chronicles and one of his more popular books.

Anyway, I've been wanting to revisit Trollope for awhile. Last year I read The Warden, the first of the series set in fictional Barsetshire. It's one of Trollope's shortest novels at only about 250 pages, but I didn't like it nearly as much as The Way We Live Now -- it seemed to take forever to get going.

Barchester Towers gets interesting much more quickly. It picks up not long after the end of The Warden. If you haven't read The Warden, you may want to skip to the end as there are mild spoilers (it is a series after all). Anyway, the Bishop of Barchester is on his deathbed. Dr. Grantly, his son, who is also his archdeacon, is widely expected to pick up the reins and be appointed to his father's position, but that would be too convenient. A Dr. Proudie from London has been appointed instead. However, Dr. Proudie has no intention of actually spending that much time in the country -- he'd rather stay in London and make appearances in the House of Lords, so most of the responsibility will be shouldered by Mr. Obadiah Slope, his chaplain. This appointment throws the whole social and religious society in Barchester into a bit of an uproar because Dr. Grantly and Mr. Slope are more evangelical, also known as Low Church -- Trollope was making a statement about the schism in church politics.

It also becomes complicated by the fact that Dr. Grantly's father-in-law is Mr. Harding, the eponymous warden of Hiram's Hospital from the first novel. Actually, he's now the former warden, as he resigned his positions due to a kerfuffle. (See The Warden for more background.) The slippery Mr. Slope decides to exercise his influence with Dr. Proudie to get his choice selected as a new warden. Mr. Slope and Mrs. Proudie's opinionated, overbearing wife get into a power struggle over this, leading to one of the funniest bits in the book. It's a bit long but I think it's worth sharing:

There was a dead pause in the room. Mr. Slope had risen from his chair, and was standing with his hand on the back of it, looking at first very solemn and now very black. Mrs. Proudie was standing as she had first placed herself, at the end of the table, and as she interrogated her foe she struck her hand upon it with almost more than feminine vigour. The bishop was sitting in his easy chair twiddling his thumbs, turning his eyes now to his wife, and now to his chaplain, as each took up the cudgels. How comfortable it would be if they could fight it out between them without the necessity of any interference on his part; fight it out so that one should kill the other utterly, as far as diocesan life was concerned, so that he, the bishop might know clearly by whom it behoved him to be led. There would be the comfort of quiet in either case; but if the bishop had a wish as to which might prove the victor, that wish was certainly not antagonistic to Mr. Slope.

There are lots of misunderstandings, power struggles, and people falling in and out of love. Much of the action comes to a head at a hilarious garden fete hosted by the local gentry. Parts of this book really reminded me of Elizabeth Gaskell (I could absolutely envision the garden party after my repeated viewings of Cranford and Wives and Daughters) and the domestic scenes reminded me quite a lot of Jane Austen, particularly her sly wit. I've heard that Trollope was a huge Austen fan, which doesn't surprise me after reading this book.

The book does start out a bit slow, though it picked up and became a faster read by far than The Warden -- I think I read about 150 pages this past Monday, which for me is amazing for a Victorian. I know Carolyn at A Few of My Favourite Books read 300 pages of Trollope a day for this circuit -- wow!

The only other comment I'd like to make is that I really wish I had researched the Church of England before I'd started this book -- I wasn't raised Episcopal so I didn't really understand the difference between High Church and Low Church and all the different titles with the hierarchy of the various characters' positions. I wish I'd found some kind of chart to make it less confusing, like a family tree. I still enjoyed the heck out of this book but I think I might have gotten more out of it if I'd known more about the history. Of course I didn't read the introduction to this book first because I was afraid of spoilers. The endnotes were good but I think they assumed the reader knew more background.

This was one of my favorite books of the year and I'm eager to read more Trollope. One of my goals for 2011 is to finish the Barsetshire series -- I've heard great things about both of the next two books, Dr. Thorne and Framley Parsonage. And today I was at Half Price Books with Amanda from The Zen Leaf, where I was delighted to find another volume of Trollope that includes Barchester Towers, Miss MacKenzie, and Cousin Henry -- for $3.22 which included tax! Sweet!

If you'd like to read more reviews of Trollope's novels and stories, please visit The Classics Circuit for links and more information.

Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles (1891)

2010-12-14T10:34:00.001-05:00

She's "goodness made interesting". That's what Irving Howe calls Tess, the main character in Thomas Hardy's Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Interesting is one way to put it.

Not all of his Victorian readers found it so however. His religious skepticism and his overt criticism of "the English marriage laws...the gratuitous cause of at least half the misery of the community" (Hearst's Magazine, 1912) raised more than eyebrows.

Hardy dealt frankly with subjects (particularly sexuality) in ways that made the general public highly uncomfortable and it was no picnic for his heroines, especially Tess, either. Many of his readers were less interested and more, er, horrified.

This was the first of Thomas Hardy's novels that I've read, so although I knew they weren't happy stories, the tragic elements still took me aback somewhat. It reminded me of a reading friend's comment about reading A Fine Balance, that eventually she just wanted to laugh because the tragedies were heaped atop one another to such a degree.

If I had read this jotting in the author's notebooks first, I'd've been less surprised:

"A Plot, or Tragedy, should arise from the gradual closing in of a situation that comes of ordinary human passions, prejudices, and ambitions, by reason of the characters taking no trouble to ward off the disastrous events produced by the said passions, prejudices, and ambitions."

Oh, yes, closing in. That's perfect. I've thought back to this passage -- from Part II of Tess -- countless times since I first read it.

"The narrow lane of stubble encompassing the field grew wider with each circuit, and the standing corn was reduced to a smaller area as the morning wore on. Rabbits, hares, snakes, rats, mice, retreated inwards as into a fastness, unaware of the ephemeral nature of their refuge, and of the doom that awaited them later in the day when, their covert shrinking to a more and more horrible narrowness, they were huddled together, friends and foes, till the last few yards of upright wheat fell also under the teeth of the unerring reaper, and they were every one put to death by the sticks and stones of the harvesters."

Doom. Shrinking. Horrible. Put to Death. This image haunts me. Even when I had not read much further, it stood out for me. And even now, when other tragedies of the tale have been heaped atop that image, it still haunts me. I think of it when I wake at 3 a.m.

This might also be because I've read this part of Tess three times. I started reading the novel earlier this year, in the summer (if not before) and read about 150 pages each time before stalling. so I read "The Maiden" and "Maiden No More" three times.

Yes, there's some ugliness there. More than that passage, though the sense of entrapment remains the same in many other disturbing scenes too.

But once I got past that mark in the novel -- and obviously I should have simply pressed onwards, because it did no good to have to read it three times -- to "The Rally", when Tess becomes a milkmaid, I was set.

Honestly, I loved the relationships that these women had with the cows. Hardy is know for his realism. He doesn't hide the fact that rural dwellers work hard and his portrayal of Wexford life is not romanticized as it might have been in the hands of other authors (see that painful passage above, for instance), but the cows made the difference, for me, between leaving this unfinished and being able to cross it off this year's Must-Reads list.

Her bovine friendships might well have been the highlight of Tess' life too. Although she has found ways to cope with her disappointments. "...I do know our souls can be made to go outside our bodies when we are alive."

There are moments of beauty in this sad story. And Tess herself is both a beautiful and fascinating heroine. The following passage, which touches on one aspect of her appeal, is actually on the same facing pages that the horrifying image above appears. The novel definitely runs the gamut of emotions.

"It was a thousand pities, indeed; it was impossible for even an enemy to feel otherwise on looking at Tess as she sat there, with her flower-like mouth and large tender eyes, neither black nor blue nor gray not violet; rather all those shades together, and a hundred others, which could be seen if one looked into their irises -- shade behind shade -- tint beyond tint -- around pupils that had no bottom; an almost standard woman, but for the slight incautiousness of character inherited from her race."

And there is much to marvel at in the prose. It's hard to believe that Hardy was writing in Victorian times, so modern does this novel feel in its exposing of injustices and inequities.

If you had asked me in September, I would have answered differently but this is one of those instances in which I'm very glad to have persisted with a difficult read.

From where I'm standing today, I would definitely like to read more of Thomas Hardy's fiction (and, then, some biographical bits).

Please tell me about your favourites.

(This was cross-posted on Buried In Print.)

Gustav Flaubert's Madame Bovary (1857)

2010-12-12T12:27:00.002-05:00

Although it fits the time frame perfectly, in many ways Flaubert's Madame Bovary seems to challenge the prevailing ideas about Victorian womanhood.

Emma Bovary's character faces the same limitations that so many Victorian women struggled against (moving from caregiver and dutiful daughter, to the role of wife and mother), but she rebels against the disappointments.

Some have called her the antithesis of Victorianism and certainly Flaubert's contemporaries challenged the novel, laying charges of obscenity against it upon serialization (1856).

The first time that I tried to read this, I was about twenty; I set it aside after maybe 75 pages. I'd jotted down all the words that I didn't know, but I never bothered to look any of them up, and I never bothered to read any further. Maybe I was too young to fully appreciate the disappointments that eclipsed Emma Bovary's self, or maybe I was too much like Emma, caught up with individual words and what they mean.

"Before the wedding, she had believed herself in love. But not having obtained the happiness that should have resulted from that love, she now fancied that she must have been mistaken. and Emma wondered exactly what was meant in life by the words 'bliss', 'passion', 'ecstasy', which had looked so beautiful in books."

Sadness permeates the novel. And not just sadness, but despair.

"And all the time, deep within her, she was waiting for something to happen. Like a shipwrecked sailor she scanned her solitude with desperate eyes for the sight of a white sail far off on the misty horizon. She had no idea what that chance would be, what wind would waft it to her, where it would set her ashore, whether it was a launch or a three-decker, laden with anguish or filled to the portholes with happiness. But every morning when she woke she hoped to find it there. She listened to every sound, started out of bed, and was surprised when nothing came. Then at sunset, sadder every day, she longed for the morrow."

It's a bleak story, but there is the potential of some terrific conversations about characters' choices (and lack thereof) and the existences that Flaubert creates for them.

Although I hadn't read Madame Bovary when I read Julian Barnes' Flaubert's Parrot some years ago, I've pulled this quotation from my notes; it seems to fit Emma Bovary perfectly, although Barnes' novel is about Flaubert in a more general way:

"It is not just the life that we know. It is not just the life that has been successfully hidden. It is not just the lies about the life, some of which cannot now be disbelieved. It is also the life that was not led."

Reading Madame Bovary, I am saddened by what we know of her life, dismayed by that in her life which was hidden, and disturbed by some of the lies (and the harsh judgements that I so often hear cast against her, often by those who have not read the novel), but most of all, I am intrigued by the life that she could not have led because she did not have an abundance of choices.

I've cross-posted about this novel in three parts on Buried In Print: One, Two, and Three.

Thanks for the hosting of this challenge; I've really enjoyed my reading throughout the year.

Lady Anna

2010-12-11T11:12:00.003-05:00

Lady Anna. Anthony Trollope. 1874/2009. Oxford World's Classics. 560 pages.

Women have often been hardly used by men, but perhaps no harder usage, no fiercer cruelty was ever experienced by a woman than that which fell to the lot of Josephine Murray from the hands of Earl Lovel, to whom she was married in the parish church of Applethwaite,--a parish without a village, lying among the mountains of Cumberland, on the 1rst of June 181-. That her marriage was valid according to all the forms of the Church, if Lord Lovel were then capable of marrying, no one ever doubted; nor did the Earl ever allege that it was not so.

While I didn't love the cover, I did love the novel. (Doesn't it look like Lady Anna has a terrible pain in her side? Well, in a way, she does. The pain being her mother.) I almost don't know where to begin.

Did I like it? I loved it! I just LOVED it. Trollope did not disappoint.

Countess Lovel ("Josephine Murray") has spent decades in court trying to "prove" to the world that her marriage was valid. (That Earl Lovel did not have a living wife when the two were married in that small parish church). Also that her daughter, Anna, is legitimate. That being rightly the widow and daughter of the late Earl, they should not only receive their inheritance, but their titles as well. That Countess Lovel should legally be recognized as Countess. That Lady Anna be recognized as Lady.

But fighting this legal battle is not cheap. And the Countess has not had the money to pay for it herself. When it comes down to it, if it hadn't been for the generosity of the Thwaite family--father and son--the two would not have lasted as long as they have. They have spent most of their lives depending on his money to survive. Daniel, the son, has grown up with Anna. And the two are extremely close. The best of friends. So it's only natural for these two to fall in love with one another, right? Why wouldn't Anna love her best friend, her defender, her provider?

As the legal case progresses, problems arise. That is in finding a compromise, a solution, the difficulty for our heroine arises. Everyone thinks it's a brilliant idea if Anna marries the Earl of Lovel--the young man who has inherited the title. She'll bring the money from the late Earl's estate if her inheritance is proven. He'll bring the title. It would be a perfect match--a flawless one at least on paper. But Anna's heart isn't in that match.

Her heart belongs to Daniel Thwaite, a common working man, a tailor, a Radical too. She has promised to be his wife. And for Anna there can be no breaking of that promise. First, she loves him truly. Second, she's a woman who keeps her word. And the truth is, Daniel wooed her when she had nothing. Daniel's actions match his words. He's proven his worth time and time again. He says what he means, and he means what he says. And this young Earl, well, he is handsome, it's true, and he says the right words--words that might prove tempting to just about any woman. But she knows that these words are at least in part prompted by her (forthcoming) wealth. He seems nice enough. But then again, he is on his best behavior. He's trying to impress her after all. The most Anna will admit is that if they'd met before she'd fallen in love with Daniel--then things might have gone differently.

This match outrages almost everyone. Lady Anna marry a tailor?! Well, that's unthinkable?! How could she--a fine Lady--marry anyone outside her class, her rank? There are many--including her mother--who will try to argue with Anna throughout the novel, will try to threaten her even, to get her to marry the "right" man. Will Anna give into the pressure? Or will she stay true to her lover?

Anthony Trollope was a great storyteller. His characters were always well-developed. All may not have been likable or good. But all the better if they're not. Who can forget Countess Lovel? Or Louis Trevelyan? Or Mr. Slope? (I bet Countess Lovel could have quite a conversation with Louis Trevelyan!)

I read this one as part of the Anthony Trollope Classics Circuit Tour.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Measuring the Victorians

2010-12-04T18:19:00.003-05:00

The New York Times has an article (from December 3rd) called Analyzing Literature by Words and Numbers about how "the titles of every British book published in English in and around the 19th century — 1,681,161, to be exact — are being electronically scoured for key words and phrases that might offer fresh insight into the minds of the Victorians." This includes a graph called Examining Victorian Literature, Title by Title. Jus thought this might be of interest to Our Mutual Readers!

He Knew He Was Right

2010-12-04T01:43:00.000-05:00

He Knew He Was Right. Anthony Trollope. 1869/2009. Oxford University Press. 992 pages.

When Louis Trevelyan was twenty-four years old, he had all the world before him where to choose; and, among other things, he chose to go to the Mandarin Islands, and there fell in love with Emily Rowley, the daughter of Sir Marmaduke, the governor.

I love Anthony Trollope. You probably know that by now. Almost all of his novels have ended up on my "favorite and best" list. While He Knew He Was Right won't be topping that list, I did enjoy it. I enjoyed it in spite of Mr. and Mrs. Trevelyan.

One of the strengths of the novel is how it is peopled. So many characters. So many stories unfolding. Like a soap opera. You may not love all the plots and subplots. You may not love all the characters--love them equally I mean. But chances are you will find many you do like--perhaps even a few you'll love.

Louis Trevelyan loves his new wife, Emily, and is happier still when their son is born. But the happiness is not lasting for he becomes jealous of one of Emily's friends.

Emily Trevelyan can't understand why her husband has gotten this notion that she is "sinning" against him by having a few private conversations with her father's old friend, Colonel Osborne. Yes, he's her husband, but is it really necessary that he read every letter she receives and every letter she sends out?

Colonel Osborne is flattered to be the cause of a "little" argument between these newlyweds. He can't decide from one day to the next whether or not he's a "real" threat to their marriage or not. At times thinking that, yes, Emily would be the sort of woman he'd love to love. But, at other times, remembering quite clearly that she is much too young for him.

Nora Rowley, Emily's younger sister, can't understand--at least not at first--why this "little" argument has practically overnight become EVERYTHING. Emily's talking to her friends; Louis is talking to his friends. And everyone is taking sides. The good news? Most seem to think her husband's jealousy is unfounded. The bad news? He insists on a separation. It doesn't matter if he is the only one who thinks he has a just cause. He knows he is right.

Lady Milborough is one of the first friends Mr. Trevelyan consults. He values her opinion--at least at first. She is always ever pushing reconciling. Why should the couple fight over something so small? After all, Emily only needs to be shown the way. Unfortunately, her idea of "showing the way" to Emily doesn't work as planned. Still, she can't help wanting the best for this foolish couple.

Hugh Stanbury is another of Louis' friends. At first, he seems to be the unofficial messenger between this estranged husband and wife. It doesn't hurt that he's quite taken with Nora Rowley. But because of his lack of "profession", he hesitates declaring his feelings for her. (He's a journalist for London's Daily Record). He doesn't know it yet, but there's another suitor for Nora's attention. His romantic troubles only deepen when Nora's parents come to visit.

Mr. Glascock is a rich man soon to inherit a title. (Not that he doesn't wish his father well, mind you). He needs a good wife, is Nora the one? Or will she send him to Europe still in quest for 'the one'?

Mrs. Stanbury and Priscilla Stanbury--for better or worse--become involved in this mess of a separation. The three set up house together in the country--and peace lasts for a time. At least as far as they can see. Unfortunately, Louis, isn't done "investigating" his wife yet. These two feel uncomfortable in their new position. It just doesn't feel right that Louis and Emily can't work out their problems.

Miss Jemima Stanbury (Aunt Stanbury) and Dorothy Stanbury. Oh what a character Miss Stanbury is! She's wealthy. She's eccentric. She's got an OPINION on just about everything. Including who should get married. And who shouldn't. Unfortunately, she's decided that Dorothy would make a great wife for Mr. Gibson. Dorothy does NOT agree. Especially after meeting Mr. Burgess.

Brooke Burgess has been told many things about Miss Stanbury, and he isn't quite sure what to believe. He certainly didn't expect to meet someone like Dorothy during his visit...
If you can spare Mr. Gibson some pity, he may just deserve it. There were times he seemed almost as mad as Louis Trevelyan. For whatever reason, he's decided to marry. Now if he could just make up his mind between the two French sisters--Arabella and Camilla. (Which sister is the 'better' sister?)

And those are just the highlights--as I see them. This one is complex--but in a good way. It's a richer novel for having so many characters, so many stories. I think it would suffer if it was just the story of Louis and Emily's horrible marriage. With each chapter, Louis becomes more and more intolerable. He's just an infuriating character--he really is. Have you read this one? Do you agree with me?

I do like this one. I think Trollope was great at developing characters. I found his style to be as enjoyable as ever. My favorite stories--in this one--were the romances between Nora and Hugh and Dorothy and Brooke. Of course, Mr. Gibson--as a clergyman--was quite a comical figure. Though perhaps not quite as memorable as Mr. Collins or Mr. Slope. Still, I think that love triangle adds something to the novel.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1897)

2010-12-03T16:32:00.002-05:00

Though not what I immediately think of when I hear the phrase "Victorian novel", Bram Stoker's Dracula was just that.

I found it particularly interesting to consider the role of women in Victorian times, the restrictions upon and the challenges faced by Mina and Lucy (and the peripheral characters, including those who appear as only brief references in newspaper reports as victims of violent attacks).

In Victorian times, Dracula was primarily viewed as a fantastic story, an adventure novel, something entertaining and sensational, but now it is recognized as a classic. My thoughts on it below are also cross-posted to Buried In Print.

In Dracula, you might expect a traditional tale of fright, narrated by the one who's holding the end of the flashlight (er, torch) so that his face is illuminated in the spookiest way possible.

But, no. Bram Stoker's tale is kaleidoscopic. It's comprised of Dr. Seward's notes on Renfield's insanity, Lucy's and Mina's diaries, Jonathan Harker's diary and letters, excerpts from papers like "The Pall Mall Gazette" and "The Escaped Wolf", and telegrams.

And that's not all that surprised me about this story.

Did you know:

* Dracula is hairy?
"His face was a strong, a very strong, aquiline, with high bridge of the thin nose and peculiarly arched nostrils, with lofty domed forehead, and hair growing scantily round the temples but profusely elsewhere. His eyebrows were very massive, almost meeting over the nose, and with bushy hair that seemed to curl in its own profusion."

Yup, somewhere it even said that he had hair growing out of his palms. How did I not know that?

* There is such a thing as a wholesome-looking puncture?

Nope, this description is not of that sort, but the other sort, the unwholesome-looking sort, apparently.

"Just over the external jugular vein there were two punctures, not large, but not wholesome-looking. There was no sign of disease, but the edges were white and worn-looking, as if by some trituration."

* The mere mention of white in a passage with a lot of red makes the red even redder, just like the horror victim's white dress in the movies?

Blood. Red. White. Crimson. You'll see...

"The thing in the coffin writhed; and a hideous, blood-curdling screech came from the opened red lips. The body shook and quivered and twisted in wild contortions; the sharp white teeth champed together till the lips were cut, and the mouth was smeared with a crimson foam."

But what really surprised me about this story?

It really did creep me out. Not in an imagine-if-a-contemporary-writer-had-written-that-how-scary-it-would-have-been" way. But in a plain-old-eerie-chilling-me way.

"All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by the moonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or fate; so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to have a sentience and a vitality of its own."

I don't know if it was originally published in October, but it would have been a great marketing tactic (and it really did feel like a book that was written to sell, not like a classic in the traditional sense); that would definitely be the perfect time of year to read it.

"All was dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by the moonlight seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a thing seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or fate; so that a thin streak of white mist, that crept with almost imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house, seemed to have a sentience and a vitality of its own."

PS Thanks for the hosting of this challenge.

The Child by Jules Vallès

2010-12-01T08:47:00.000-05:00

"A great nineteenth-century novel translated into English for the first time."

So says the back cover of this book, and I have to agree.

I was gripped even from the dedication.

"I dedicate this book all those who were bored stiff at school or reduced to tears at home, who in childhood were bullied by their teachers or thrashed by their parents."

Jacques, the young hero is thrashed by his parents in the very first chapter. They are unhappy people, concerned only with their social status and advancement, and with no love, no empathy at all for their young son.

I worried that this would be a depressing and distressing read. And at times it was, but it was also something special indeed.

A neighbour saw what was happening and came to the aid of young Jacques. She realised that making a fuss would not help and so she offered to beat the child to save his mother the trouble. But instead of beating him she clapped her hand while he yelled, and gave him candy.

And so Jacques' spirit was not broken.

His story went on, not with great drama but through the things - day-to-day routine, trips, family events and, of course, school - that make up a childhood.

Like so many children, before and since, Jacques had a strong survival instinct, and he only realised in time that his situation was not usual. He carried on.

He didn't look to his parents, he looked out at the world, observing everything he saw so closely.

And his perspective is beautifully realised - idiosyncratic, sometimes witty, sometimes funny, sometimes poignant, and always utterly believable.

Jacques never received approval from his parents, and so he didn't look for it from others. Insubordination and independence came to him quite naturally. Particularly at school, which he didn't care for at all!

I was sorry to have to part company with Jacques when he reached adulthood.

But I won't forget him, and I'm hoping that the two sequels to this book are translated into English one day. If they aren't I'm going to have to think about brushing up my French!

The Child isn't an easy book to write about, but it is one that you really should read.

Fannie's Last Supper by Chris Kimball

2010-11-22T02:10:00.002-05:00

Chris Kimball decided that it was a good idea to try and recreate a twelve-course Victorian dinner party. He devoted several years of his life to this project, and this book is the story of how he did it. As his manual Kimball took the most popular of late-nineteenth century cookbooks, The Fannie Farmer Cookbook. And the meal is quite a production: multi-tier jellies, complicated fried artichokes, old world punch. Many of the dishes are also disgusting to the modern palate: brain balls in soup, gelatin made out of calves' hooves. Readers should be aware that the description of some of these dishes is truly disgusting, but in a train-wreck-can't-look-away way. To add to the "authenticity" of the meal, Kimball chose to create the meal on a Victorian-era coal stove, a practice which caused its own problems, including impossible temperature regulation, and a kitchen so warm that one of the chef's pants melted.

The book intersperses the history of Farmer and Victorian cooking with Kimball's own efforts to recreate a Victorian meal. Each chapter is organized around one of the courses, but the historical information often bears little relevance to the particular course at hand. Some chapters are better at establishing this relevancy than others.

More of an issue for me was the fact that I just could not get into the purpose of this project. I couldn't help but thinking throughout that this was a lot of money wasted for no particular purpose. Kimball produced a PBS documentary on his Victorian dinner as well, and I have to wonder if this was a project better suited to film than to a book. I'll probably seek out the documentary. Perhaps that will change my impression that this project marks a case of privileged foodies getting together to play Victorian gentry.

Chris Kimball, Fannie's Last Supper: Re-Creating One Amazing Meal from Fannie Farmer's 1896 Cookbook (Hyperion, 2010) ISBN: 1401323227

Miss Jemima's Swiss Journal

2010-11-18T16:58:00.002-05:00

"On the 26th June 1863, sixty-four excited ladies and gentlemen left London Bridge Station on the very first tour of Switzerland arranged by Thomas Cook, the excursionist. This was the beginning of a tourist movement which now involves millions taking their holidays abroad."

Among the sixty-four were the seven members of the Junior Alpine Club: Miss Eliza, Miss Mary, Miss Jemima, Miss Sarah, Mr William, Mr Tom and Mr James.

Miss Jemima was charged with preparing a record of the trip for the clubs archives, and maybe even for publication.

What the club thought of Miss Jemima's writings, what came after the trip to Switzerland is unknown.

But, of course, that isn't the end of the story ...

In 1943 an old tin box was found in the rubble of a blitzed warehouse in the East End of London. And in that box were Miss Jemima's notebooks, drawings and souvenirs.

Miss Jemima has never been identified, but her work was finally published almost a century after she visited Switzerland.

It makes a lovely book, recording everything that the group saw and did over the course of the tree weeks that they spent in Switzerland.

Well, nearly everything. There are only fleeting references to accommodation, meals, and fellow-travellers. Miss Jemima is clearly focused on the country and on the journey.

But it is still clear that seven members of the Junior Alpine Club fell in love with Switzerland. A sense of enjoyment and fun permeates the pages.

And such an appetite for adventure. Mule-back journeys? Dawn departures? Mountaineering in crinolines? All are undertaken with gusto!

Towns, villages, mountains, glaciers, valleys, lakes ... All wonderful!

The prose is simple, clear and informative, and though there is much detail it flows quite beautifully.

And the text is accompanied by some lovely drawings and photographs.

Reading Miss Jemima's Journal was like hearing about the trip of a lifetime from an articulate friend.

Agnes Grey by Anne Bronte

2010-11-09T00:27:00.000-05:00

When Agnes Grey's father loses the family savings in a disastrous investment, 18-year-old Agnes feels it is time for her to learn to take care of herself and earn her own way. Although sad to leave her family, Anne heads off to Wellwood Mansion full of high hopes. Unfortunately, the Bloomsfield family quickly makes Anne realize how inferior they consider her to be; even the children show her very little respect. Things are little better for Agnes when she becomes the governess for the Murray's of Horton Lodge, although here Agnes will start to find a way to make her own life.

I've read Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre (love it) and Emily's Wuthering Heights (I've read it three times, trying to find out what makes it so popular and still don't get it). I had great hope for Anne; my friend Sarah, of Sarah Says, declares that Anne is her favorite of the Bronte sisters. She's going to have to do much more than she did with Agnes Grey before she can unseat Charlotte in my opinion.

This book is a largely autobiographical account of Anne's own time as a governess. Which is not particularly an exciting or fast-paced life, of course. But the first half of this book really felt like it was crawling along for me. Anne was clearly an introspective woman, as well as a deeply religious person, and long passages of the book were nothing more than Agnes' reflections. I began to long for Wuthering Heights' Catherine Earnshaw.

Anne did not think much of the British upper class, if this book is true reflection of her own opinion. The fathers in both families that Agnes served were absent, the mothers delusional about the merits of their children, and the children spoiled and lazy. Agnes was giving charge of the children but no authority at all to discipline them. Agnes Grey picked up for me when the Murray children grew older. Agnes began to venture out into the community and Bronte's commentary was able to become more far reaching.

I'll keep this one and perhaps give it another read one day. In the meantime, I'll pick up Anne's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and see if I enjoy it as much as Sarah did.

Lisa at Lit and Life

Bleak House and My Favorite Dickens Novels

2010-10-23T13:27:00.005-04:00

I have finished Bleak House -- all 28 discs of the audio version, alternating with nearly 1000 pages of the print version. This was an eight-week readalong, and again, I'd like to thank Amanda for organizing this -- it's nice to see so many participants. I know not everyone is as big a Dickens fan as I am, so I'm especially impressed with the bloggers that have stuck with it this far, considering the length. It's a big reading commitment, especially if you're not enjoying it. I did enjoy this just as much this time around as my previous read, and even more than my multiple viewings of the excellent BBC adaptation. If you're intrigued by the story but put off by the length of the book, please, do yourself a favor and watch this -- believe me, you will be hooked. It may even inspire you to attempt reading it.

I'm not even going to attempt to recap the plot thus far -- it would take too long and include far too many spoilers. I love Bleak House because of the memorable characters, the fascinating, twisty plot, the great cliffhangers, and the brilliant way in which Dickens ties everything together while including social commentary, mystery, humor, tragedy, and romance. Seriously, this book has everything. It will remain one of my favorite books of all time. If I was going into outer space for a year and could only bring ten books with me, this would be one of them.

Like Bleak House, most of Dickens' works are a commitment. They are long. His prose is flowery and sometimes challenging. His plots can be labyrinthine. Some of his characters (especially the women) can be irritating. I also find that he's elitist -- good characters, even if they are criminals, are usually nice looking and come to a happy end, and they are usually well-born, even if they are miserable orphans and don't realize they are From a Good Family. Many of the poor, unhappy characters are uneducated, unloved, and unattractive, and they suffer sad fates. Those that are not rarely rise above their station.

Gillian Anderson as Lady Dedlock

However, this does not deter me, because Dickens is really and truly worth it. I read my first Dickens work, Great Expectations, back in college and then basically ignored his oeuvre until 2007, when I read A Tale of Two Cities with an online classics group. It wasn't until I watched the BBC miniseries adaptation of Bleak House that I was seriously hooked on Dickens. I've now read about half of his major works. I'm ranking them below in order of preference.

1. Bleak House. Still my favorite. Maybe it was the miniseries, but I am captivated by the tragic story of the Jarndyce court case. The lives of the Jarndyce heirs are intertwined with the heroine, Esther Summerson, as well as the mysterious Lady Dedlock. This book has everything -- romance, blackmail, murder, the brilliant Inspector Bucket (the first detective in English fiction!) and a host of side characters that are both grotesque and charming.

2. Oliver Twist. The quintessential Dickens orphan. By now, the trope of the Poor Orphan is a little hackneyed, but little Oliver manages to survive the workhouse and a gang of thieves and still be sweet and saintly. Also one of Dickens' shorter works, so it's a great starting point for the Dickens novice.

3. Great Expectations. My first Dickens, read in my last semester of college. I took a fifth class, Introduction to Fiction, on a whim. I can't remember any of the other books we read except this one. I was sure I'd hate it but I was blown away, it was so enjoyable! It contains some of Dickens' most memorable characters -- Pip, the hero; his kindly but hapless stepbrother Joe, his shrew of a sister

4/5. Little Dorrit and David Copperfield -- tied for fourth place. Copperfield started out so well, vying with Bleak House for my favorite, but the middle gets really slow, and the story doesn't seem to go anywhere. And David's True Love Dora is one of his most annoying ingenues EVER, so it slips in the ranking. Little Dorrit has a lot of the colorful characters for which Dickens is famous, but somehow the story isn't quite as enchanting. Young Amy Dorrit was born and raised in the Marshalsea Prison, where her father has spent years imprisoned for debts. Dickens was pointing out the injustice of this vicious cycle. The hero, Arthur Clennam, is trying to help the Dorrits and falls in love with Amy.

6. A Tale of Two Cities. This one gets big points for being fairly short, and also for having the BOTH the best first line and the best last line in a book EVER. Lots of great books have great first lines, but to have both is pretty impressive. Also, one of the best female villains, Madame DeFarge. However, points are taken away because, once again, Lucie Manette, the beautiful ingenue, is so boooring. Why is everyone so in love with her? Apparently Dickens believes that since she is young, innocent and pretty, no character development is therefore necessary. Snore.

7. Nicholas Nickleby. Poor Nicholas has to get a teaching job at a terrible school to support his widowed mother and sister, and along the way he has some adventures. It was okay, but the characters didn't appeal to me nearly as much as those in Bleak House, Oliver Twist, or even Great Expectations.

8/9. Hard Times and A Christmas Carol. Bleah. They're short, but I just don't see the appeal. Hard Times is often read in schools because it's one of Dickens shortest works -- because he left out all the good stuff! Seriously, I cannot recall a single element of this book that I liked, or a single interesting character. It seems like Dickens had a novel all planned out and hadn't added any of the funny and/or grotesque side characters, but he was in a rush to publish something so he just handed it off to the publisher. A huge disappointment.

And A Christmas Carol -- it's so popular, and I've seen so many adaptations -- there's even a Disney adaptation with Mickey Mouse and Scrooge McDuck. When I finally got around to reading it, I didn't see what the big deal was. I suppose I would have enjoyed it more if a TV version hadn't scared the crap out of me when I was about six or seven. (What was my mother thinking, letting me watch this? I was so scared of the Ghost of Christmas Future I slept under the bed for a week). I finally got around to reading it a few years ago and was seriously underwhelmed.

So, now that I'm nearly finished with Bleak House I have to think about which Dickens to read next. My top choices are Martin Chuzzlewith, Dombey and Son, and Our Mutual Friend. Bloggers, have you read any of these? Which one should I read next? I'd love to hear your comments and also your thoughts about other Dickens novels.

Wuthering Heights

2010-10-15T23:46:00.000-04:00

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

A more sorry lot of characters you will never meet in literature. Heathcliff (an orphan of poor education and manners) is brought home from a trip by Mr. Earnshaw to his country estate where he is greeted none too kindly by Mr. Earnshaw's son, Hindley, daughter, Catherine and servant Nellie. Catherine and Heathcliff soon develop an unbreakable bond and even Nellie is won over. But Hindley is appalled that his father would bring home a second "son" whom he so clearly favors and the girls' acceptance makes Hindley livid. When Mr. Earnshaw dies, Hindley goes out of his way to make life miserable for Heathcliff. Matters are made worse for Heathcliff when Catherine, whom he is now deeply in love with, begins flirtations with a proper young gentleman who would be able to keep Catherine in high style buy who lacks the fire that Catherine and Heathcliff share. So Heathcliff takes off. And Catherine marries the young man, Edgar Linton because, what the heck, Heathcliff has left her.

Oh, but not so fast. Some years pass and who should reappear but Heathcliff and if you thought the book was sad and gloomy up until now, things are about to get much worse. Heathcliff now has the means AND the motive to exact revenge on everyone who has ever slighted him without regard to who is hurt in the process.

This is regarding a great love story but I felt much more that I was reading a story of revenge and hatred. The love that Heathcliff and Catherine share is so destructive. If you're daughter fell into such a love, you'd move heaven and earth to get her away from this guy. I've read the book three times now, each time thinking that I would finally "get" what the appeal was reading from a greater maturity. No such luck. While the writing is certainly wonderful, I couldn't stand the characters and didn't feel in the least sorry for Heathcliff for what had made him the person he became. Catherine was no better--in fact, maybe worse. She, after all, had been raised with everything a girl could need or want and made the choice to marry for wealth and status rather than love. Her spirit is broken, her heart is crushed and she ends up a ghost roaming the heights. Pretty much came away from the book feeling she deserved it.

I will not be re-reading this book ten years from now hoping to gain a new perspective!

2010-10-15T00:47:00.001-04:00

This is a delightful Victorian Gothic novel, full of suspense and intrigue. Braddon's book has all of the elements of a good Victorian suspense tale: a country estate inhabited by the landed gentry, a pining lover, and a Victorian lady who is not what she seems.

George Talboys arrives home from Australia to discover his wife has died. Robert Audley, seeing his friend mad with grief, brings George to Audley Court, his uncle's country estate. It is at Audley Court that Talboys mysteriously vanishes. As Robert investigates his friend's disappearance, it becomes clear that the prime suspect is the lady of the court, Robert's new aunt, Lady Audley. Beautiful and child-like, the fact that Lady Audley may be a cold-blooded murderer adds a particularly horrifying twist for a Victorian readership.

Anyone who thinks that the Victorians couldn't produce a page-turner should have a look at this book. Braddon effectively creates a dark and suspenseful atmosphere. While she relies on particularly Victorian conventions to do this, such as stressing Lady Audley's hyper-femininity, the result is still sufficiently gripping, even for the modern reader.

Mary Braddon, Lady Audley's Secret (Virago, 1987, orig. 1862)

Laurie@In Laurie's Mind

Bleak House by Charles Dickens

2010-09-30T14:08:00.002-04:00

Bleak House. Charles Dickens. 1852-1853. 912 pages.

London. Michaelmas Term lately over, and the Lord chancellor sitting in Lincoln's Inn Hall. Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets, as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill.

How did I feel about Bleak House? Overall, I liked it. I more than liked it. I really, really liked it. What did I like best? The characters, the story, or the writing style? Hard to choose--for me. I think some readers may be so intimidated by the writing style--Dickens way of using a thousand words to paint a picture--that it becomes almost impossible to connect with the characters and enjoy the story.

The characters and story. Esther, a young woman who's clueless about the identity of her parents, becomes a companion to Ada, one of the wards in the legal dispute of Jarndyce and Jarndyce. These two young women--along with Richard, the second ward in the case--are under the guardianship of a Mr. John Jarndyce of Bleak House. Their guardian is kind, compassionate, generous, and an all-around good fellow. He hates, hates, hates Jarndyce and Jarndyce and wants absolutely nothing to do with the matter. Richard loves Ada. He desperately wants to marry her, but Mr. Jarndyce disapproves of the match because Richard doesn't have a way to provide for her. He feels Rick needs to grow up a little and find a career. Unfortunately, Rick doesn't take to this idea of having a profession--of making a living. Though he isn't quite as childish--as shallow--as Mr. Harold Skimpole, a man who borrows freely from anybody and everybody. (He's also fond of philosophizing about how wonderfully childish he is!) Through the course of the novel: Esther discovers the identity of her parents and falls in love; Rick fails at one profession after another until he decides once and for all to devote his entire energy to a law case that his been in the system for several generations, all the while Ada continues to love Rick unconditionally. Then there's the mysterious side of Bleak House. The murderous side. Lady Dedlock has a secret from her husband, Sir Leicester. A secret that Dedlock's lawyer, Mr. Tulkinghorn, discovers, after much unscrupulous searching and digging. There are MANY characters who are despicable. MANY characters who have enemies. MANY characters who have strong motives.

Dickens did a great job with his characters. You'll find characters that you'll absolutely love and adore. You'll find characters that are so enjoyable, so fun, to spend time with. You'll find characters that make you laugh--or at least smirk. You might find a few characters that you love to hate, or hate to love. You'll find characters that are just so despicable, so nasty, so horrid that you hate them--with a passion. There might even be a few that drive you crazy! But I hope that you'll find a few characters that genuinely surprise you! I know a few surprised me! There are so many characters. Some are very important to the plot. Others are very minor. But just because they're minor doesn't mean they're pointless. (For example, I *liked* Mr. Chadband!)

The writing. I won't lie. It took me more than a few chapters ~~to make any sense of this one~~ to begin to like this one. The style of the first chapter is very off-putting. In my opinion. That and the fact that so many characters are introduced in the early chapters. It's not until the reader is introduced to Esther, Ada, and Richard--not until these three are taken to Bleak House--that it began to work for me. But. I did like this one. I really came to like the style. I came to appreciate his descriptions, his details.

A word from Esther:

I don't know how it is, I seem to be always writing about myself. I mean all the time to write about other people, and I try to think about myself as little as possible, and I am sure, when I find myself coming into the story again, I am really vexed and say, "Dear, dear, you tiresome little creature, I wish you wouldn't!" but it is all of no use. I hope any one who may read what I write, will understand that if these pages contain a great deal about me, I can only suppose it must be because I have really something to do with them and can't be kept out. (102-3)

A description of Sir Leicester:

Sir Leicester is generally in a complacent state, and rarely bored. When he has nothing else to do, he can always contemplate his own greatness. It is a considerable advantage to a man, to have so inexhaustible a subject. (139)

A description of Mr. Smallweed:

Everything that Mr. Smallweed's grandfather ever put away in his mind was a grub at first, and is a grub at last. In all his life he has never bred a single butterfly. (257)

From Lady Dedlock to Mr. Tulkinghorn:

"Of repentance or remorse, or any feeling of mine," Lady Dedlock presently proceeds, "I say not a word. If I were not dumb, you would be deaf. Let that go by. It is not for your ears." (509)

I liked the flavor of Bleak House. It has its difficulties--I suppose. (Though no more than any other classic of its size, its substance). But. I really enjoyed this one. There were so many things that I just loved about it. (For example, Mr. Jarndyce's growlery. I loved that! Don't we all need a place to go when we're out of humor?!)

Is it worth reading?! I think so! I think the characters are very well done--very human, very memorable. I think the writing--especially once the mystery begins--is very suspenseful.

Is it worth watching?! I think many people who might be intimidated by reading the novel would enjoy seeing an adaptation of it. I saw the 2005 adaptation. It was long--fifteen episodes--but I enjoyed it. It definitely has its differences--it's not the book--but I did enjoy the drama. It was DRAMA! It was very compelling.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

2010-09-30T14:07:00.000-04:00

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins. 1868.

From the prologue: I address these lines -- written in India-- to my relatives in England.

From chapter one: In the first part of Robinson Crusoe, at page one hundred and twenty-nine, you will find it thus written. 'Now I saw, though too late, the Folly of beginning a Work before we count the Cost, and before we judge rightly on our own Strength to go through with it.' Only yesterday, I opened my Robinson Crusoe at that place.

When a cursed diamond is stolen from Miss Rachel Verinder--on the very night it is given--it opens up quite a mystery. Leading the search for the thief is Mr. Franklin Blake, cousin and would-be suitor to the young lady. He calls for the police, a detective, but what he learns--what they all learn after a few weeks search--doesn't quite make sense. What is more surprising is that Miss Rachel doesn't want the thief to be found.

I have come to love Wilkie Collins. (My reviews of Man and Wife and Armadale.) He's a great storyteller. And I love his narration. I do. I really, really love how he tells a story. He's also very good with characters. There were so MANY characters to love in The Moonstone.

Is my favorite narrator Gabriel Betteredge, an elderly house-steward to the Verinder family, a man who is obsessed with Robinson Crusoe? He opens and closes the account--minus the epilogue. Or is my favorite narrator Miss Drusilla Clack, a young woman obsessed with religion? Her section was definitely the most comical! I don't know how I could ever choose between the two! Of course, those are just two of the narrators--there's also Mr. Bruff, Franklin Blake, Ezra Jennings, Sergeant Cuff, and Mr. Candy.

Here is one of my favorite passages--from Miss Clack's narrative:

As soon as we were alone, my aunt reclined on the sofa, and then alluded, with some appearance of confusion, to the subject of her Will.
'I hope you won't think yourself neglected, Drusilla,' she said. 'I mean to give you your little legacy, my dear, with my own hand.'
Here was a golden opportunity! I seized it on the spot. In other words, I instantly opened my bag, and took out the top publication. It proved to be an early edition--only the twenty-fifth--of the famous anonymous work (believed to be by precious Miss Bellows), entitled The Serpent at Home. The design of the book - with which the worldly reader may not be acquainted - is to show how the Evil One lies in wait for us in all the most apparently innocent actions of our daily lives. The chapters best adapted to female perusal are 'Satan in the Hair Brush'; 'Satan behind the Looking Glass'; 'Satan under the Tea Table'; 'Satan out of the Window' - and many others.
'Give your attention, dear aunt, to this precious book - and you will give me all I ask.' With those words, I handed it to her open, at a marked passage - one continuous burst of burning eloquence! Subject: Satan among the Sofa Cushions.
Poor Lady Verinder (reclining thoughtlessly on her own sofa cushions) glanced at the book, and handed it back to me looking more confused than ever. (202-03)

When this attempt at witnessing proves unsuccessful, Miss Clack decides to hide tracts throughout her aunt's home. When the tracts come back to her, well, she decides to write out her favorite passages from her favorite tracts and send them to her aunt as letters. Concluding that her aunt might be suspicious to receive so many letters from her all at once, well, she has a few friends help her out in her work.

And Lady Verinder (Miss Rachel's mother) is not the only one Miss Clack is anxious to save...

Here is another quote I'd like to share--this time from Franklin Blake.

Some men have a knack for keeping appointments; and other men have a knack of missing them. I am one of the other men. Add to this, that I passed the evening at Portland Place, on the same seat with Rachel, in a room forty feet long, with Mrs. Merridew at the further end of it. Does anybody wonder that I got home at half-past twelve instead of half-past ten? How thoroughly heartless that person must be! And how earnestly I hope I may never make that person's acquaintance. (389)

I really enjoyed The Moonstone. I loved the characters. So many wonderfully quirky characters! And I found the pace--especially towards the end--to be so compelling. It was impossible to put this one down!

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle

2010-09-26T19:26:00.003-04:00

Well, I finally got around to reading a book which qualifies for the challenge - but only just. The Hound of the Baskervilles, a Sherlock Holmes mystery, was first published in 1901, the last year of Queen Victoria's reign.

I made a couple of false starts with this one because I was so irritated by the first chapter which has Holmes showing off his superior (to Dr Watson's) detective skills. However, once past that I enjoyed it, and I did feel that Holmes showed his real regard for Watson in the course of the book. After an opening rich with details of Victorian life in turn-of-the-century London, the story moves to Devonshire,a setting of which Conan Doyle takes full advantage. Writing in the last year of Queen Victoria's reign, he follows eighteenth-century convention in pairing the Gothic with the pastoral. This is how Dr Watson describes his arrival at Baskerville Hall:

The avenue opened into a broad expanse of turf, and the house lay before us. In the fading light I could see that the centre was a heavy block of building from which a porch projected. The whole front was draped in ivy, with a patch clipped bare here and there where a window or a coat-of-arms broke through the dark veil. From this central block rose the twin towers, ancient, crenellated, and pierced with many loopholes. To right and left of the turrets were more modern wings of black granite. A dull light shone through heavy mullioned windows, and from the high chimneys which rose from the steep, high-angled roof there sprang a single black column of smoke.

But in the following chapter:

The fresh beauty of the following morning did something to efface from our minds the grim and grey impression which had been left upon both of us by our first experience of Baskerville Hall. As Sir Henry and I sat at breakfast the sunlight flooded in through the high mullioned windows, throwing watery patches of colour from the coats-of-arms which covered them. The dark panelling glowed like bronze in the golden rays, and it was hard to realise that this was indeed the chamber which had struck such a gloom into our souls upon the evening before.

Was Sir Charles Baskerville really killed by a spectral hellhound with fiery eyes? Holmes and Watson find out in the course of an economical tale told entirely by Watson in a variety of forms - memoir, diary and letters. This is a relatively short, fast-paced book with a lot of twists and turns and an unforgettable atmosphere.

***

I borrowed this book from the library.

A Forgotten Treasure: The Old Wives' Tale by Arnold Bennett

2010-09-22T09:46:00.001-04:00

Sorry for the late posting, but I have a book I really want to share: The Old Wives' Tale by Arnold Bennett. Okay, how many of you have heard of this book?

(crickets chirping)

See, I was right. I'd never heard of it either, and then a few years ago I decided to try and read all the Modern Library Top 100 books (which is a misleading title: it's actually the Top 100 Books of the 20th Century. Though it was selected in 1990s. Go figure). Anyway, this book made the list at #87 (above Call of the Wild andMidnight's Children!) and I was poking around the library one day before a Christmas trip and decided to take it along on a whim.

I was so pleasantly surprised, it was wonderful! Published in 1908, it spans 70 years from the mid-1800s to the early 1900s in England and France. It's the story of two sisters, Sophie and Constance, who are raised in an industrial town in the north. (Bennett wrote other books in his fictional Five Towns, which are based on the Pottery towns near Stoke-on-Trent). Their mother owns a draper's shop, and the story follows the very different lives of the two sisters from their youth through old age.

I expected this to be a difficult Victorian-style read, but it wasn't, not in the least. It was quick and absorbing, with none of the flowery language or convoluted plots I was anticipating. I suppose it would be considered an early neo-Victorian since most of it is set during that period. It was an easy and fast read -- it's about 600 pages long and I think I read it all in two days (though I did spend a fair amount of time in airports).

Arnold Bennett wrote quite a few books, including a non-fiction work called How to Live on 24 Hours a Day, an early self-help book, but most of them are out of print. Well, at least this one is still available though I doubt many bookstores carry it on a regular basis -- if you wanted to buy it you'd probably have to order it online. My library here in Texas doesn't even have this book, sigh. However, the nearby community college has several of Bennett's other works, which I have just added to my ever-growing to-read list. If you're interested in the Victorian period but have fear of Victorian writers, I highly recommend this book.

This book was also posted on my book blog, Books and Chocolate.

The Go-Between by L. P. Hartley

2010-08-31T19:46:00.004-04:00

"The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there." Another of the best first lines ever. [I didn't include this book in that post, as I hadn't finished it yet.] But another great line, and a great book. But it just broke my heart.

This is the story of young Leo Colston, a twelve year old boy spending the summer holiday with a school friend on a country estate. It's set in 1900, at the very end of the Victorian era. As an adult in his sixties, Leo finds the journal he kept that summer, and he's reminiscing about this summer and how it changed his life.

Leo is at Brandham Hall, a country estate, as a companion to his school friend Marcus Maudsley. Unfortunately, a few weeks into the summer, Marcus falls ill with the measles and is quarantined, so Leo has to amuse himself for several weeks; he and Marcus were the only children and all the other guests much older . He's befriended by Marcus' older sister, Marian, a beautiful young lady of about 18, whom Leo worships. The family hopes that she'll soon be engaged to Viscount Trimingham, from whom they are leasing the estate -- he's titled but low on cash, and the Maudsley family are rich but untitled. So, a match between Marian and the Viscount would solve everything beautifully. Of course, things don't go as planned. Leo is befriended by Ted, one of the tenant farmers, and soon Leo is passing messages between Ted and Marian -- hence, the title.

This book has a lot to say about Victorian ideas of class and station, snobbery, and loyalty. Leo's pretty middle-class, and he's a little out of his depth with all of these wealthy people. He's very aware of the class differences. He's also friendly with Ted but is very aware that he's not the same class, being just a farmer. He realizes he's caught in the middle of something and is trying desperately to get out of it without offending anyone, especially Marian, on whom he has a tremendous crush.

What I liked best about this book was Hartley's ability to write in the voice of a child. I've read other books in which the narrator is a child, and a lot of them just didn't ring true -- they seemed so precocious, and much older than their years. For example, I'm thinking about Scout inTo Kill a Mockingbird, one of my favorite books of all time. I love this book, but Scout doesn't sound like any child I've ever known, and I have two girls of my own. (Other than this, I think it's perfect). I didn't get any hint of that in Hartley's novel.

My one complaint is [contains spoiler! highlight if you want to read this section] that Leo has no clue about sex -- which I find pretty unbelievable for a 13-year-old boy, especially one who attends a boy's school. I am sure that some other schoolmate would have known something and talked about it! Seriously. There would have been boys with older siblings or who had been on a farm or something.Anyway, I just found that terribly unrealistic. But still, it's a great book, beautifully written. Hartley is also very skilled at descriptions -- I could absolutely imagine myself right there with Leo. There's an detailed chapter about a cricket match between the villagers and the residents and guests up at Brandham Hall -- I don't know anything about cricket (or much about any other sports, for that matter) but Hartley made it both interesting and full of tension, just like a real sporting event. It takes a talented writer to get me interested in sports, believe me! And the ending -- well, I couldn't possibly spoil it, but it's pretty dramatic, I couldn't stop reading. This is one of those great classics that I think is sadly unappreciated.

This review is also posted on my book blog, Books and Chocolate.

Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne

2010-07-30T09:20:00.001-04:00

A couple of years ago, after I'd started getting Hooked on Classics, I realized I'd never read anything by the science fiction authors H. G. Wells or Jules Verne. Though I'm not usually a fan of sci-fi, I'm particularly interested in both of these writers because their works are such a reflection of the Victorian fascination with science and industry. And since I was traveling (to California, not around the world, sadly), I thought that Around the World in Eighty Days would be a perfect vacation read, as it's a classic adventure story. Though Verne is well known as one of the first science fiction writers, this book, which isn't science fiction, was and still is his most popular.

If you're not familiar with the story, here it is in a nutshell: Set in 1872, elegant, unflappable Victorian gentleman Phileas Fogg is challenged by other members of his elite club to circumnavigate the world in 80 days. He bets his own fortune that he can do it and rushes off with his new servant, Passpartout, a Frenchman who had been hired only the same day. As Fogg and Passpartout race around the globe by ship, train, and some other unusual modes of transportation (which I won't spoil because they're nice surprises), they are pursued by a somewhat bumbling detective, Mr. Fix, who believes Fogg is a master criminal on the lam.

This book turned out to be a very pleasant surprise. It's enjoyable adventure story and an easy read, so it was ideal for a vacation. It's one that children might also enjoy as well. However, this book, like so many others, is a product of its time, and includes some racism. Verne's depiction of Indians and Native Americans is pretty unflattering, and he even gets in some digs about Mormons. Also, the book tends to focus on lists of places he's visiting, and less about character development. Phileas Fogg is pretty flat.

But I can see why it was so popular, given the fascination at that time with all the newfangled modes of transportation and romanticized ideas of traveling. It's been remade and adapted so many times that I was surprised that the original story wasn't exactly what I expected -- and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that after all these years, I didn't realize that I've been saying Fogg's name wrong -- it's Phileas, with an L -- all this time I thought it was Phineas, with an N. Also, there is no hot air balloon! This was added to the 1956 film adaptation with David Niven, and so now most people associate it with the book. As you can see from the illustration above, it's even on the cover of many editions, even though there is no mention of balloon travel in the entire story.

Besides the films and TV shows, people have also been recreating Fogg's journey for more than 100 years. Michael Palin of Monty Python fame began his first travel series by recreating this journey -- if you haven't seen the BBC miniseries, I highly recommend it. I'm going to have to watch it all over again and compare it to the book. Around the World in Eighty Days also reminded me of a really old television cartoon I remember from my childhood; however, in that version, Phileas Fogg is racing around the world so that he can marry his sweetheart Belinda (her nasty uncle Lord Maze says they can't marry until Phileas proves himself worthy by completing the trip, though he's sent Mr. Fix to thwart his attempts). What I remember most about it is the theme song, which is now stuck in my head. If you're interested in this obscure bit of pop culture, you can see a clip from the intro here.

I don't know if Jules Verne can be technically considered a Victorian author, since he's French, but the protagonist Phileas Fogg is definitely a Victorian gentlemen. Therefore I am considering this as a Victorian book, and I'm including it as one of the books for Our Mutual Read challenge (#10!). My good friend Amanda at The Zen Leaf also reviewed this book. To read her review, click here. If you've reviewed the book and would like me to add a link to your review, please let me know in the comments and I'll add it.

This review was also posted on my book blog, Books and Chocolate.

A Pair of Blue Eyes by Thomas Hardy

2010-07-29T13:26:00.004-04:00

"These eyes were blue; blue as autumn distance – blue as the blue we see between the retreating mouldings of hills and woody slopes on a sunny September morning. A misty and shady blue, that had no beginning or surface, and was looked into rather than at."

I’m loving Thomas Hardy more and more with every book of his that I read. A Pair of Blue Eyes was one of his earliest books, originally serialised in Tinsley’s Magazine from September 1872 to July 1873. Although this is not generally noted as being one of his better novels and is certainly one of his least well known, there was something about it that appealed to me – and I would even say that of all the classics I’ve read so far this year, this might be my favourite.

A Pair of Blue Eyes is the story of Elfride Swancourt, a vicar’s daughter living in a remote corner of England, who is forced to choose between two very different men. One of these, Stephen Smith, is a young architect whom she meets when he is sent by his employer to survey the church buildings. At first, the vicar approves of Stephen and encourages his daughter to spend time with him. It soon emerges, however, that Stephen has been hiding an important secret from the Swancourts; something that could put his relationship with Elfride in jeopardy. Later in the book, another man arrives at Endelstow Vicarage – Henry Knight, an essayist and reviewer from London – and Elfride has to make a difficult decision.

As you might expect with this being a Hardy book, nothing goes smoothly for any of the characters. I would describe A Pair of Blue Eyes as being similar in some ways to the later Tess of the d’Urbervilles, though not as dark and bleak – and not quite as tragic either. Although I didn’t find Elfride particularly likeable, I thought she was an interesting character. Her lonely, secluded life gives her a childlike innocence and vulnerability and at one point Hardy draws a comparison with Miranda from Shakespeare’s The Tempest – both characters have little knowledge of men and a male visitor is a big event (and Elfride even plays chess with Stephen Smith and Henry Knight as Miranda did with Ferdinand in The Tempest). Of the two men, Stephen was the only one I had any real sympathy for. Knight, although another interesting character, annoyed me almost as much as Angel Clare in Tess annoyed me.

The descriptions of scenery in this book are stunningly beautiful and bring the setting vividly to life. If you’re familiar with Hardy you’ll know that he sets most of his works in the fictional region of Wessex in the southwest of England. This story actually takes place in Off-Wessex or Lyonesse, which equates to Cornwall. I had no problem at all in picturing the lonely vicarage, the windswept hills, and the dark cliffs towering over the sea below. Speaking of cliffs, it is thought that the term ‘cliffhanger’ originates from a scene in this book, though I’m not going to say any more about it than that!

Another interesting aspect of this book is that it’s loosely based on Hardy’s relationship with his first wife, Emma Gifford. Unfortunately I don’t know enough about Hardy to have picked up on all the allusions and references to events in his own life. I would like to eventually read a biography as I think it would help my understanding of both this book and his work as a whole.

I found A Pair of Blue Eyes very easy to read. I thought the pacing and flow of the story were perfect and the pages flew by in a weekend. It’s so sad that this book has been ignored and underrated to the point where, until not long ago, I hadn’t even heard of it. Maybe it won’t appeal to everyone and it might not be the best introduction to his work, but I loved it and would highly recommend it to all Hardy fans.

Originally posted at She Reads Novels

Great Expectations

2010-07-21T22:13:00.003-04:00

I did not know what to expect when I went into reading this novel. I thought I had read it sometime before in high school, but the more I got into the book, the more I realized I had not actually ever read it before!
I was immediately captivated by the story of Pip. His family, and the interaction between him and Joe, was so sweet from the very beginning.
I am sure everyone else in the world is familiar with the story of Pip's "Great Expectations" and the story of his rise above station, move into society, and how the wealth corrupted his lifestyle and character.
I read painfully as I expected the painful relationship with Estella to turn out pretty much like it did.
I was taken in fully by all the plot twists that Dickens revealed all at the perfect time in the story.
I just really enjoyed this classic Dickens novel, and proud to add it to my "have read" list.
It was also my first complete read on Kindle. I will never go completely away from holding a book in my hands, but I did enjoy the "percentage" bar at the bottom of the screen. I am kind of nerdy like that...that I loved seeing it fill up as I completed the book. It was also a plus that I was able to get it immediately and for free when I decided to read this story.

M.E. Braddon and Visions of Empire

2010-07-18T05:39:00.000-04:00

Just a few notes today on Mary Elizabeth Braddon's imperial tone in John Marchmont's Legacy...

Braddon brings forward attitudes and news headlines that would have dominated the thinking of Victorian readers but which other novelists did not necessarily mention and which a reader of today might overlook. I had read a little Kipling, the old imperialist, and observed the mindset of conquest he represents, but he was born two years after the publication of Braddon's novel. She was extolling the virtues of imperialism just after mid-century, during Kipling's babyhood. I am a little hard pressed to recall one of her contemporaries who did the same in such an overt manner.

The imperial point of view may have informed other novels of the day, but you have to look to general attitudes and the course of relationships and the will to power found in some other stories in order to tease out the imperial tone. Braddon explicitly praises martial virtues and recoils from the conquered peoples, whose territory she sees as needing British military incursion in order to advance civilization. She writes bluntly about these subjects, jarringly to the ear of today's reader.

The publication date of this sensation novel, 1863, follows not too long after two British wars with the Afghans. It is set in the years 1838-55, and a minor thread of the novel--passing references only--involves a young officer who is stationed in India during the later stages of the first Afghan War (1838-40) and the whole of the second (1841-42).

Check back tomorrow for snippets of text, offered for those readers with an interest in social history as well as 19th C. fiction. Before mentioning how thoroughly I came around on this novel, after being terribly bored through the first hundred pages, it seemed worth pointing out some of the elements of the book that do not appeal to me as story or as sympathetic worldview, but do hold great interest as history.

Braddon pursues the emotions and experiences of her characters in this novel with the same intensity she commends in war and warriors. That is to say, the whole business goes well over the top and, after a slow start, it made for an energetic and yes, sensational, read.

The Man Who Invented Christmas: How Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol Rescued His Career and Revived Our Holiday Spirits

2010-07-09T09:46:00.001-04:00

This book is not very timely -- who wants to read about Christmas in July? Well, it's usually mighty hot here in Texas, and every summer I like to fantasize about snow, wearing wool sweaters and drinking hot beverages next to a roaring fire, when in fact I am huddled under an air conditioner with a sweaty glass of lemonade, looking longingly at my yard and wishing it were 20 degrees cooler so I could sit outside and enjoy it.r

So Dickens and Christmas is just about as opposite of a Texas summer as I can imagine. This book is a short biography of Dickens, focusing on how and why he wrote his most beloved work, A Christmas Carol, and its huge impact on Western culture, specifically how most people celebrate or imagine Christmas.

It begins with Dickens reading in Manchester for a charity fundraiser. He was at a tough place in his current work, Martin Chuzzlewit, and facing personal and financial difficulties. Like today, most writers are only as popular as their last work. Dickens was in debt and needed something inspirational -- his previous work, American Notes for General Circulation, was not well received, and Chuzzlewit, his latest serial publication wasn't nearly as popular as the books that made him famous.

The book includes a short background of Dickens' career before A Christmas Carol, and gives quite a lot of detail about his publishing history. it's pretty depressing that one of the world's most beloved writers made so little money from his own works, since countries didn't recognize international copyrights. There were bootleg versions and lousy knockoffs published in England as well -- at one point, he sues a publisher for a cheap imitation of his work. He won the lawsuit, but the publisher declared bankruptcy, so Dickens wound up having to pay court costs for himself and the defendant as well! Talk about adding insult to injury! (He did put this experience to good use as material for Bleak House).

There's also a lot of background about how the Christmas holidays had fallen out of favor and were barely celebrated in the manner that most people imagine. Dickens himself was writing about an idealized holiday. The popularity of this book inspired people to decorate and start buying more Christmas turkeys, which quickly surpassed the popularity of the traditional Christmas goose. (I've tasted roast goose, it was pretty dry; I'm not surprised that most people prefer turkey). Prince Albert also contributed Christmas traditions, popularizing Christmas trees.

I don't know that this book has anything particular insightful or groundbreaking. If you're a Dickens fan you probably know all about his sad childhood, how he skyrocketed to fame with The Pickwick Papers, and his unhappy marriage and divorce. It does help give some context and background, and there's some interesting background about 19th century publishing. Standiford recommends Peter Ackroyd's biography of Dickens, (about 1200 pages!) which is sadly out of print, but I was intrigued enough to check it out of the library despite its length.

I'm also hoping that this book will inspire me to return to Dickens. Reading his entire works is one of my lifelong goals, but I got discouraged with my most recent attempt, The Old Curiosity Shop, which I haven't touched in weeks. I started it and I found Quilp so repulsive I haven't picked it up again.

This is book #9 for Our Mutual Read Challenge. This review is also posted on my book blog, Books and Chocolate.

A House to Let by Charles Dickens, Wilkie Collins, Elizabeth Gaskell and Adelaide Anne Procter

2010-07-04T12:01:00.002-04:00

A House to Let, at less than 100 pages, is a collaboration between four 19th century authors which originally appeared as the Christmas edition of Charles Dickens’ weekly magazine, Household Words, in 1858.

The book is divided into six sections; the first, Over the Way, and the sixth, Let at Last, are joint efforts by Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins, and provide the framework for the story. The other four sections are individual contributions from Elizabeth Gaskell, Charles Dickens, Adelaide Anne Procter and Wilkie Collins, in that order.

Over the Way introduces us to Sophonisba, an elderly woman who has never married but has two men vying for her attentions – one is her old admirer Jabez Jarber; the other is her servant, Trottle. When Sophonisba's doctor advises a change of air and scene, she leaves her home in Tunbridge Wells and moves into new lodgings in London, where she immediately becomes obsessed with the house opposite – a house which has been vacant for many years and is permanently 'to let'. Determined to discover why the house has remained empty for so long – and convinced she has seen an eye staring out from one of the windows – she asks Jarber and Trottle to investigate.

Over the Way and Let at Last are credited to both Dickens and Collins, but there's no way to tell exactly which parts were contributed by which writer. The other four chapters, though, are each written in the distinctive style of their respective authors and each tell the story of a previous occupant of the house to let.

The chapter I liked the least was actually the one written solely by Dickens, Going Into Society. The story of a showman and a circus dwarf called Mr Chops, it was just too weird for me and was also quite difficult to read as it was written in dialect. It's probably significant that I found the two Dickens/Collins collaborations much easier to read than this solo effort, as I've always thought Collins was a lot more readable than Dickens.

Three Evenings in the House, the contribution by Adelaide Anne Procter, whose work I was previously unfamiliar with, is in the form of a narrative poem. I'm not a big lover of poetry but luckily for me this was only thirteen pages long and quite easy to understand. Other than providing some variety though, I don't think this chapter really added much to the story.

The Manchester Marriage by Elizabeth Gaskell stands out as an excellent piece of writing: a tragic story of Alice Wilson, who is widowed when her husband is lost at sea. After marrying again, she and her new husband move into the house to let where further tragedy awaits them. This is good enough to work as a stand-alone short story (and according to the Biographical Notes, it was actually published separately in its own right). This and the Wilkie Collins contribution, Trottle’s Report, were my favourite chapters. Trottle’s Report is a typical Collins story, with unusual, quirky characters, a mysterious secret, and a slightly dark and gothic feel.

After exploring the histories of the various tenants of the house, the mystery is finally solved in the final chapter, Let at Last, which neatly ties up all the loose ends of the story.

If you like any of these four authors or Victorian fiction in general, then A House to Let is definitely worth reading. It also provides a good introduction to Dickens, Collins, Procter and Gaskell without having to commit yourself to one of their longer works.

Originally posted at She Reads Novels

Fingersmith by Sarah Waters

2010-06-28T09:42:00.001-04:00

Wowza. I don't think I have ever read a 600 page book so fast. I know there are lots of glowing reviews of this novel on the blogosphere, and they are all true. This is an amazing, brilliant book. Why did I wait so long to read it???

I must disclose that I actually saw the BBC movie first -- which is nearly as good as the book, if that's possible. The movie is wonderful, and when I saw the book at the library book sale, I bought it and it's been waiting patiently for me to read it ever since. I actually thought I'd try another Sarah Waters novel first, since I already knew the story. However, my good friend Amanda at The Zen Leaf is also reviewing it, so I was inspired to read it also.

Sarah Waters must be the best writer of neo-Victorian fiction, ever. If you've ever been intimidated or turned off by the idea of Victorian novels, this could be the place to start -- it keeps the essence of the Victorians, but with less of the flowerly language and convoluted plots.

I can't say too much about the plot of Fingersmith, because, honestly, that would spoil it. One of the best things about this book is the fantastic plot, which has some pretty jaw-dropping twists. Basically, it's about a young woman, Sue Trinder, an orphan who's raised in a den of thieves in Victorian London. I'm guessing in the 1860s since there's a mention of mourning for Prince Albert (who died in 1861). Young Sue, who's been raised by a loving foster mother (unlike most literary orphans) is persuaded to pose as a ladies' maid and help swindle a young heiress out of a fortune. However, things don't turn out as planned. I'll stop there, because I could go on and on, and I don't want to ruin it for anyone. It's very Dickensian, and the whole orphan/den of thieves motif is very reminiscent of Oliver Twist -- a very R-rated Oliver Twist, with a female protagonist (there's a little shout-out to Dickens in the beginning of the book, which I loved).

However, this isn't any kind of Dickens fan fiction or remake. I'm not a big fan of literary sequels and remakes, and the comparison to Dickens pretty much ends there. Oliver Twist is one of my favorite Victorian novels, but I've always found little Oliver to be a cloyingly perfect, and I'm not a big fan of Dickens' his female characters. They're frequently evil, or bland angels, or bad mothers. In Waters' novel, the women take the center stage, and they are very three-dimensional. They're far from perfect, but they're still sympathetic. It takes a really talented author to make unlikeable characters interesting and compelling, and I found myself fascinated by these characters and sympathetic to their situation. Women in Victorian times had so few choices, and poor women were worst off of all -- not much chance for education, not many jobs, and no rights. It made me think about how so often people are products of their environment.

As much as I liked the movie, in a way I wish I hadn't seen it before reading the book simply because there were no surprises. Yet it did not lessen my enjoyment of this novel one iota. I still stayed up late at night reading it, and when I woke up early one morning, I could not wait to pick it up and finish it.

And the movie is fantastic. The acting, the sets, the costumes are all wonderful. I honestly don't know how they could have made it any better. They did make a few minor changes, but I think that was mostly just to clarify plot points that are a bit more subtle in the book. And of course, you miss the wonderful narration by the main character. A movie can't possibly describe what's going on inside her head. But it is absolutely wonderful, especially Sally Hawkins as Sue. Lots of other great actors as well.

Now that I've finished this, I want to watch the miniseries all over again. And I have a conundrum: Sarah Waters has written four other novels -- do I rush out and read them all in a row, or ration them out to make them last longer? It's a tough choice that I face whenever I find a new author I love.

This counts as book #8 for Our Mutual Read Challenge. This review is cross-posted on my book blog, Books and Chocolate.

Armadale

2010-06-27T16:51:00.001-04:00

Armadale. Wilkie Collins. 1866. (My edition. Oxford World's Classics.) 880 pages.

On a warm May night, in the year eighteen hundred and fifty-one, the Reverend Decimus Brock--at that time a visitor to the Isle of Man--retired to his bedroom, at Castletown, with a serious personal responsibility in close pursuit of him, and with no distinct idea of the means by which he might relieve himself from the pressure of his present circumstances.

Is it possible to summarize Armadale in a sentence or two? In a paragraph or two? Probably not. Wilkie Collins is all about layers. Who else besides Collins would premise a novel with fifty-eight pages of prologue? A prologue that establishes the background of three of his main characters. A foreshadowing prologue that shapes and reshapes the novel. Two men. One name. One dark secret.

Armadale centers around three characters: Allan Armadale, Ozias Midwinter, and Lydia Gwilt. Armadale and Midwinter are best friends. But this friendship is strained at times because Midwinter knows things Armadale doesn't. He knows the dark connection they share. Midwinter learned these secrets through a letter he received when he came of age. His father warned him to never ever have anything to do with Allan Armadale. His father's letter also warned him of a dangerous woman.

Lydia Gwilt, one of our narrators, also enters into the drama. Both Midwinter and Armadale (not to mention the elderly Bashwood) fall in love with Miss Gwilt. But Gwilt is incapable of honesty, and her lies may spin everything out of control.

Armadale is about the struggle of the human soul between good and evil. A novel that asks the question--should children suffer for the sins of their fathers? A novel that explores the idea of Fate and free will.

This is my second Wilkie Collins novel. Last year, I read and reviewed Man and Wife. Armadale is a stronger novel, a better novel. (But it doesn't have a Sir Patrick.) Did I love Armadale? I certainly enjoyed it. I found it difficult to put down. I found myself smiling at Collins descriptions. He could definitely be witty when he wanted to be! I found Armadale to be complex. The characters are drawn from human nature; each of the main characters is flawed. I liked the multiple narrators as well. I was surprised at how much of this story is told from Gwilt's perspective--through letters and diary entries mainly. I thought the pacing was suspenseful, and the last two hundred pages were intense. I would definitely recommend the novel.

'Excuse me,' said the impenetrable Scotchman. 'I beg to suggest that you are losing the thread of the narrative.'
'Nothing more likely,' returned the doctor, recovering his good humour. 'It is in the habit of my nation to be perpetually losing the thread--and it is evidently in the habit of yours, sir, to be perpetually finding it. What an example here of the order of the universe, and the everlasting fitness of things!' (17)

The object of Allan's humane caution was corpulent elderly woman of the type called 'motherly.' Fourteen stairs were all that separated her from the master of the house: she ascended them with fourteen stoppages and fourteen sighs. Nature, various in all things, is infinitely various in the female sex. There are some women whose personal qualities reveal the Loves and the Graces; and there are other women whose personal qualities suggest the Perquisites and the Grease Pot. This was one of the other women. (203)

A young man who plays his part in society by looking on in green spectacles, and listening with a sickly smile, may be a prodigy of intellect and a mine of virtue, but he is hardly, perhaps, the right sort of man to have at a picnic. An old lady afflicted with deafness, whose one inexhaustible subject of interest is the subject of her son, and who (on the happily rare occasions when that son opens his lips) asks everybody eagerly, 'What does my boy say?' is a person to be pitied in respect of her infirmities, and a person to be admired in respect of her maternal devotedness, but not a person, if the thing could possibly be avoided, to take to a picnic. Such a man, nevertheless, was the Reverend Samuel Pentecost, and such a woman was the Reverend Samuel's mother; and in the dearth of any other producible guests, there they were, engaged to eat, drink, and be merry for the day at Mr. Armadale's pleasure-party to the Norfolk Broads. (292)

The age we live in is an age which finds no human creature inexcusable. (374)

'When you say no to a woman, sir,' remarked Pedgift Senior, 'always say it in one word. If you give her your reasons, she invariably believes that you mean Yes.' (439)

The plain fact was, that the music-master attached to the establishment fell in love with Miss Gwilt. He was a respectable middle-aged man, with a wife and family--and finding the circumstances entirely hopeless, he took a pistol, and rashly assuming that he had brains in his head, tried to blow them out. The doctors saved his life, but not his reason--he ended, where he had better have begun, in an asylum. (635)

Other reviews: Shelf Love, Novel Insights, The Curious Reader, Bibliolatry, Savidge Reads,

At Crighton Abbey by M.E. Braddon

2010-06-20T15:16:00.001-04:00

Although novelist Mary Elizabeth Braddon (1835-1915) was a prolific writer of popular sensation fiction such as Lady Audley's Secret and The Doctor's Wife, she also wrote short stories. At Chrighton Abbey and Other Horror Stories was a quick read, and even though scary stories are not my favorites, much of the Victorian reading public loved a ghoulish spine-tingler. Just as Braddon's popular novels sometimes present a different view of womanhood and a different frame of mind than we see in much of the Victorian fiction that is still read today, so do her short stories give us a sense of the kinds of special effects appreciated by Victorian readers of pop fiction.

The personable narrator of the title story is herself a Chrighton, a poor relation of the old family. Visiting the ancestral manse at Christmas, the spinster governess has a ghostly encounter, hears a local legend from a servant, and sits back helplessly watching and waiting for the curse to descend again on the family. The reader is told fairly early in the story that one of the family members meets a bad end, and we are unsurprised when the worst happens. The point of the exercise is not to turn the pages to unravel the plot. In approaching this genre of fiction, readers are interested in the storytelling process and in the chills-and-thrills excitement we know is ahead.

John Marchmont's Legacy, my current read and also by Braddon, continues to be a long row to hoe. Although on the sentence level, her writing is fine, the characters leave me cold and a plot lacks what the Victorians called "incident" and "mystery," features that make her other novels I've read charge steadily ahead with page-turning velocity. In the novels mentioned above, Braddon at least considers alternate versions of Victorian womanhood, but a central character of John Marchmont's Legacy adorns the pages with a cloying Little Nell sweetness and idealized virtue that I find hard to take. Trying hard to finish this one. Wish me luck.

My introduction to Braddon, The Doctor's Wife, retells the Madame Bovary story for a British reading public expecting titillation but not ultimate shock to their middle-class moral sensibilities. It is a rollicking good read and highly recommended to readers of Victorian fiction, as long as you can tolerate its sentimentality and silly ending.

Three Men in a Boat (To say nothing of the dog) by Jerome K. Jerome

2010-06-17T11:25:00.002-04:00

Anyone who says Victorian literature is boring has obviously never read Three Men in a Boat (To say nothing of the dog). If you've never read it, you need to do yourself a favor and and read it, fast. Seriously, this is one of the funniest books I have ever read. This book was written more than 100 years ago, and it still cracks me up, even after multiple readings.

Basically, this is a satire about three pompous, silly young men who take a fortnight's boat trip down the Thames, circa 1889. I've often compared it to Jeeves and Wooster. Imagine if Wooster went on a boat trip with two equally clueless friends, but left Jeeves behind. And brought a fox terrier. That pretty much sums this book up in a nutshell.

There's not much plot to speak of -- the book is really a collection of vignettes and essays. The narrator, J (i.e., the author, Jerome K. Jerome) frequently digresses and waxes philosophically about the beauty of the countryside, history, women's fashion, you name it. In fact, most of the book is just an excuse to weave funny stories together. We were listening in the car and my daughter (aged 9) finally said to me, "When are they going to get on the boat? He's really birdwalking, isn't he?" [I found her use of birdwalking, her third-grade teacher's term for digressing, particularly apt in this instance.]

I nearly always have at least one audio book in the car, even if I'm just running errands around town. Three Men, my latest audiobook, is perfect for absorbing in little bits and pieces. I highly recommend the version pictured above, the Naxos Audiobook narrated by Martin Jarvis. His comic timing is impeccable, and his voice and accent are reminiscent of Hugh Laurie (who played Wooster in the BBC adaptation of Jeeves and Wooster, which fits perfectly). This book would be an excellent choice for a long car trip, and it's appropriate for listeners of all ages. My children loved it when they were in elementary school. I can't think of many Victorian novels that fit that description.

Though the story does have a few slow spots, most of the book is hilarious. Many of my favorite bits are about food -- shopping for it, packing it, and of course the party's attempts at cooking while camping out. There's a very funny story about smelly cheeses, and one of my favorite bits in the whole book concerns a tin of pineapple. It's a bit long, so I've abridged it somewhat:

. . . when George drew out a tin of pineapple from the bottom of the hamper, and rolled it into the middle of the boat, we felt that life was worth living after all. We are very fond of pineapple, all three of us. We looked at the picture on the tin; we thought of the juice. We smiled at one another, and Harris got a spoon ready.

Then we looked for the knife to open the tin with. We turned out everything in the hamper. We turned out the bags. We pulled up the boards at the bottom of the boat. We took everything out on to the bank and shook it. there was no tin-opener to be found.

Then Harris tried to open the tin with a pocket-knife, and broke the knife and cut himself badly; and George tried a pair of scissors, and the scissors flew up, and nearly put his eye out. While they were dressing their wounds, I tried to make a hole in the thing with the spiky end of the hitcher, and the hitcher slipped and jerked me out between the boat and the bank into two feet of muddy water, and the tin rolled over, uninjured, and broke a teacup.

Then we all got mad . . . [this continues as they try to beat the tin into submission]. We beat it out flat; we beat it back square; we battered it into every form known to geometry -- but we could not make a hole in it. Then George went at it, and knocked it into a shape, so strange, so weird, so unearthly in its wild hideousness, that he got frightened. . . . Then we all three sat round it on the grass and looked at it.

There was one great dent across the top that had the appearance of a mocking grin, and it drove us furious, so that Harris rushed at the thing, and caught it up, and flung it far into the middle of the river, and as it sank we hurled our curses at it, and we got into the boat and rowed away from the spot, and never paused until we reached Maidenhead.

Several editions of the book include the sequel, Three Men on the Bummel, in which the three hapless travelers reunite on a bicycling tour of Germany. I haven't read it yet but I think it'll be perfect summer reading.

This is Book #7 for Our Mutual Read. This review also appears on my book blog, Books and Chocolate.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

2010-06-10T17:28:00.002-04:00

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Anne Bronte. 1848. 496 pages.

You must go back with me to the autumn of 1827.

What should YOU know about this one going in? Less than I did, I think. I had the misfortune (yes, I know it's my own fault) of reading the very quick introduction. (For the record, it wasn't the edition that is pictured on the left. Though that edition might have a spoilerish introduction as well. I do wish that introductions could be placed at the end of the book.) So I will do my best to make you curious about this one, but not ruin it for you...

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is told within a framework. We've got two narrators. Gilbert Markham is telling a friend about how he met this mystery woman in his youth. At the time of this telling, many years have passed. (Thus, the "You must go back with me to 1827" beginning.) This meeting, this acquaintance, isn't without mystery (and drama). He falls for a new woman in the community, a young woman with a son. Her name is Mrs. Graham. Her son's name is Arthur. Slowly--very slowly--he is starting to get to know her better. She's allowing him to visit her, walk with her. But as he begins to want to know her more, as he begins to picture his future with her in it...the rumors about her grow out of control. Who is she really? Is she worthy of his love? Is he doing the right thing by guarding her reputation and standing up for her within the community? Or is he being fooled?

The second narrator is the woman. Here readers meet Helen Huntingdon, Mrs Graham's real name. We learn her story through her journal. We learn her story alongside Gilbert--for she indeed gave this journal to him after some drama, tantrums, and tears.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is a novel about unhappy marriages. Helen's marriage isn't the only unhappy account. It is just one of many presented in Anne Bronte's dark novel. It highlights the lack of rights for women--for married women especially. It also could serve as a cautionary tale. Of how serious marriage is. Of how women should not rush into it. And how a pretty face, a handsome face, isn't enough to build a marriage on. That character is EVERYTHING. That marriage has to built on more than desire, more than infatuation. How can a young girl know if her suitor is worthy of her love? How can a young girl discern the truth of the matter? What if she's being deceived? What if he's merely a flatterer? Or a womanizer? Or a drunkard? Or a gambler? Or just after her money? How can she know who to trust? And deception doesn't just work one way. How can HE know her true character as well? How does he know that she loves him, that she cares for him, respects him? How does he know she isn't just after his money, his estate, his title?

When I tell you not to marry without love, I do not advise you to marry for love alone--there are many, many other things to be considered. Keep both heart and hand in your own possession, till you see good reason to part with them; and if such an occasion should never present itself, comfort your mind with this reflection: that, though in single life your joys may not be many, your sorrows, at least, will not be more than you can bear. Marriage may change your circumstances for the better, but in my private opinion, it is far more likely to produce a contrary result. (293)

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is a gritty novel in some ways. The portrait of marriage it presents is ugly, harsh, cruel. But I am glad to have read this one. I found it to be a compelling read. I did feel for Helen. I'm not quite sure I have the same amount of respect for Gilbert as I do Helen. But then again Gilbert didn't read the introduction as I did. He wasn't omniscient.

Here is one of my favorite exchanges. It is between Helen and Mr. Hargrave.

'You have no love left for him, then?'
'Not the least.'
'I knew that--I knew you were too high-minded and pure in your own nature to continue to regard one so utterly false and polluted, with any feelings but those of indignation and scornful abhorrence!'
'Is he not your friend?' said I, turning my eyes from the fire to his face, with perhaps a slight touch of those feelings he assigned to another.
'He was,' replied he, with the same calm gravity as before, 'but do not wrong me by supposing that I could continue my friendship and esteem to a man who could so infamously - so impiously forsake and injure one so transcendently - well, I won't speak of it. But tell me, do you never think of revenge?'
'Revenge! No -- what good would that do? -- It would make him no better, and me no happier.'
'I don't know how to talk to you Mrs. Huntingdon,' said he smiling 'you are only half a woman -- your nature must be half-human, half angelic. Such goodness overawes me; I don't know what to make of it.' (259-260)

Other reviews: The Book Whisperer, The Reading Life, Helen Loves Books, A Striped Armchair, Booklust, The Zen Leaf.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

2010-06-06T09:16:00.003-04:00

My knowledge of classic plays is woefully lacking. Aside from Shakespeare in college, I can't remember the last play I read. And I hardly ever go to the theater. I think the combination of spending a little too much time hanging around the drama club in high school, plus a work/study job in a small theater company in college, led to a kind of overdose of theater in college. And I wasn't even a theater or English major!

I am lucky enough, however, to belong to a Real Life Classic Book Group. (Face to face! With Real People! How lucky am I?) this year we have two classic plays on the reading schedule: In December we're reading A Doll's House by Ibsen, and we had a quick and enjoyable read this month: The Importance of being Earnest by Oscar Wilde. Our fearless leader, my good friend Amanda, is a huge Wilde fan, so I know we're going to have a great discussion next Saturday.

Basically, Earnest is a delightful, satirical romp about Victorian courtship. Two young men, Jack and Algernon, are basically wealthy ne'er-do-wells. But Jack has a little secret: he has an alternate identity, Earnest. He calls himself Earnest in London, but on his country estate, he uses his real name, Jack, to appear respectable for his young ward Cecily. Algernon is equally sneaky, using a fictional friend Bunbury to escape social obligations -- for example, Bunbury is conveniently ill whenever Algernon would prefer to avoid unpleasant relatives, etc.

Jack is in love with Gwendolen, Algernon's cousin, and intends to marry her; however, he is foiled by her formidable mother, Lady Fairfax, who is unimpressed by Jack's family history -- it seems he was a foundling adopted by a rich man after he was discovered in a train station luggage room.

Basically, the entire three act play is a farce with mistaken identities and misunderstandings, resolved by amazing plot contrivances and coincidences. If it was meant seriously, it would just be ridiculous, but since it's all a joke it's hilarious. Above all, it's the snappy dialogue that make this play a hoot. Almost the entire play is worth quoting, but here's a sample. In Act 2, Cecily, Jack's ward, is writing in her diary, and Algernon wants to know what she's writing. [Algernon is pretending to be Jack's libertine brother Ernest].

Algernon: Do you really keep a diary? I'd give anything to look at it. May I?

Cecily: Oh, no. [Puts her hand over it]. You see, it is simply a very young girl's record of her thoughts and impressions,and consequently meant for publication. When it appears in volume form I hope you will order a copy. But pray, Ernest, don't stop. I delight in taking down from dictation. I have reached "absolute perfection." You can go on, I'm quite ready for more.

Algernon: [somewhat taken aback]. Ahem! Ahem!

Cecily: Oh, don't cough, Ernest. When one is dictation one should speak fluently and not cough. Besides, I don't know how to spell cough.

Though I rarely go to the theater, I do admit to watching film adaptation of plays, especially when they are chock-full of my favorite British actors. Yes, there was an excellent adaptation several years ago, starring . . . Colin Firth, Judi Dench, Frances O'Connor . . . pretty much everyone who's ever been in a BBC production of anything. And Reese Witherspoon. The casting was brilliant, well worth watching, if nothing else but for the dialogue.

Sadly, The Importance of Being Earnest was his final play; it closed after only 83 performances due to his scandalous legal problems. A couple of months ago I also watched the excellent biopic Wilde, about Oscar Wilde's tragic downfall. After reading this play, it makes me even sadder and angrier that such a talented person was ruined because of his personal life. I highly recommend both movies and I look forward to reading more of his plays, and may even branch out to more classic playwrights. The Russians are visiting The Classics Circuit in June, so hopefully it will inspire me to try more Chekhov.

This is book #6 for Our Mutual Read Challenge. This review was originally posted on my book blog, Books and Chocolate.

Phineas Finn, Volume 1

2010-06-04T16:54:00.000-04:00

I always think it’s interesting when a novel’s aboutness isn’t entirely, or even primarily, focused on the character for whom it is named. Phineas Finn (1869), the second novel in Anthony Trollope’s 6-part series on the Pallisers, is one such novel. It’s not that Phineas isn’t present, for of course he is; indeed, his experiences and thoughts make up at least half of the contents of the first volume of the novel. But because it is one of the Palliser series, it is also a novel heavily steeped in the political concerns of mid-19th-century England. The “official” topic of this novel is whether or not to extend the vote, but the issue of women’s participation in politics is pushed insistently to the fore, and not only that – it’s linked intimately to women’s particular social position.

Phineas Finn
Phineas Finn is a young, talented Irishmen elected to the British parliament at the tender age of 24. His financial straights, his attempts to make his name by speaking in the House, and his proposal to Lady Laura Standish comprise the bulk of the narrative surrounding him in the first volume. Phineas is talented and exceptional, it seems, but Trollope doesn’t spend a great deal of space directly explicating his personality. He does note rather tersely that Phineas is “a young man not without sense, – not entirely a windbag” (p. 8). Trollope’s wry but gentle criticism of Phineas’s imperfections let us know that while the young MP is not perfect, he is also neither incompetent nor malicious.

He makes errors, but they don’t appear to be major errors for he pays very little by way of consequence for any of them. Yet, Trollope’s skillful juxtaposition of Phineas’s unthinking ease in life with the careful and complicated steps, mental and actual, Lady Laura Standish and Violet Effingham must constantly negotiate clearly highlight that as a young man possessed of a particular level of education, not to mention good looks and charm, he possesses a freedom – both to achieve and to screw up – that is simply not within the purview of a young woman, regardless of how well placed she is socially or how much money she has.

Lady Laura Standish
Lady Laura is without money but of a particular class. She is aware of the advantages of her position, and uses them to her advantage. Her physical presence speaks to both her privileges and her priorities:

She would lean forward when sitting, as a man does, and would use her arms in talking, and would put her hand over her face, and pass her fingers through her hair, –after the fashion of men rather than of women; –and she seemed to despise that soft quiescence of her sex in which are generally found so many charms. (p. 33)

In spite of this apparent dearth of traditional feminine charms, Laura is sufficiently attractive to both Phineas and Mr. Robert Kennedy, another MP, to beg her hand in marriage.

In the meantime, Lady Laura seems to know what she’s about. Although a woman and entitled neither to run for political office nor to vote, she has clear ideas about how she might nonetheless exercise political power:

It was her ambition to be brought as near to political action as was possible for a woman without surrendering any of the privileges of feminine inaction. That women should even wish to have votes at parliamentary elections was to her abominable, and the cause of the Rights of Women generally was odious to her; but, nevertheless, for herself, she delighted in hoping that she too might be useful, –in thinking that she too was perhaps, in some degree, politically powerful[.] (p. 89)

Laura sees this political power as manifesting primarily in her stewardship of her father’s and Phineas’s political careers, and indeed, she is implicated in both their political successes. What I find curious about this passage is Laura’s adherence to more traditional views of women’s social roles even as she imagines extending that role into the masculine realm of government. It’s not initially clear if she’s simply a rather complex representative of her era, or if she doesn’t have sufficient knowledge of herself.

As it turns out, it’s more the latter, although she certainly doesn’t come to any conclusions about wanting the vote for herself or other women of her class. Rather, she realizes that while she may mentor a young man like Phineas and cajole her doting father into political action, she is, without money, limited in what she can do from her privileged position of “feminine inaction.” She, thus, makes the entirely logical choice to marry the rich Robert Kennedy and not the financially challenged Phineas – and in very short order, finds herself deeply dissatisfied:

Those two hours…with her husband in the morning became very wearisome to her. At first she had declared that it would be her greatest ambition to help her husband in his work, and she had read all the letters from the MacNabs and MacFies, asking to be made gaugers and landing-waiters, with an assumed interest. But the work palled upon her very quickly. Her quick intellect discovered soon that there was nothing in it which she really did. It was all form and verbiage, and pretence at business. Her husband went through it all with the utmost patience, reading every word, giving orders as to every detail, and conscientiously doing that which he conceived he had undertaken to do. But Lady Laura wanted to meddle with high politics, to discuss reform bills, to assist in putting up Mr. This and putting down my Lord That. Why should she waste her time in doing that which the lad in the next room, who was called a private secretary, could do as well? (pp. 208-09)

Lady Laura sees too clearly that while “She had married a rich man in order that she might be able to do something in the world…now that she was this rich man's wife…she could do nothing [but] sit at home and look after his welfare” (p. 304).

Violet Effingham
Trollope does not allow us to draw a pat object lesson from Lady Laura’s case, however. Her friend Violet Effingham is a charming young woman who, like Lady Laura, is the subject of a great deal of marital interest. In particular, Lady Laura’s profligate brother, Lord Chiltern, has repeatedly asked Violet to marry him without success; Lady Laura, in her brother’s interest, applies a steady dose of pressure on her friend to accept. Lady Laura and her brother both believe that enough pressure upon the petite and pretty young lady will gain this end, but the fact is, “With all her seeming frolic, Violet Effingham is very wise” (p. 157) – with regards not simply to whom she might marry, but also in considering whether or not to marry at all. Violet isn’t blinded by any grand political notions about what her marriage might do or mean; on the contrary, she clearly sees the differences that gender makes and keeps that practical reality before her at all times. Violet and Laura engage in one of several arguments concerning Lord Chiltern:

"I prefer men who are improper, and all that sort of thing. If I were a man myself I should go in for everything I ought to leave alone. I know I should. But you see, –I'm not a man, and I must take care of myself. The wrong side of a post for a woman is so very much the wrong side. I like a fast man, but I know that I must not dare to marry the sort of man that I like."

…………..

"… I should like to be your sister. I should like well enough to be your father's daughter. I should like well enough to be Chiltern's friend. I am his friend. Nothing that any one has ever said of him has estranged me from him. I have fought for him till I have been black in the face. Yes, I have, –with my aunt. But I am afraid to be his wife. The risk would be so great. Suppose that I did not save him, but that he brought me to shipwreck instead?"

"That could not be!"

"Could it not? I think it might be so very well. When I was a child they used to be always telling me to mind myself. It seems to me that a child and a man need not mind themselves. Let them do what they may, they can be set right again. Let them fall as they will, you can put them on their feet. But a woman has to mind herself; –and very hard work it is when she has a dragon of her own driving her ever the wrong way." (pp. 95-6)

Lord Chiltern would very likely bring Violet to ruin, as Lady Laura should well know as paying off his gargantuan gambling debts is what made it necessary that she marry someone with money in the first place! Violet knows her own mind and the implications of her position in the world and holds herself close, in spite of her friend’s emotional pressure. While I haven’t read the second volume of Phineas Finn yet, and so don’t know how Violet’s story will play out, I would be very surprised if she “ruined” herself with a disastrous marriage to Lord Chiltern or someone like him.

Both she and Lady Laura feel forced to be calculating when considering marriage but Lady Laura’s calculations lack the distinctly practical consideration of what it would mean to live with someone as dry and upright as Robert Kennedy; she is blinded by his political activities and imagines something much more noble for herself than what she gets. Violet imagines – nothing precisely, it seems, except what disasters may ensue with the wrong choice. And yet, when confronted about a possible fancy for Phineas, she is able to identity the more positive counterpoint to the disaster she so constantly and carefully avoids:

"I think you like my friend, Mr. Finn," Lady Laura said to Miss Effingham...

"Yes, I do. I like him decidedly."

"So do I. I should hardly have thought that you would have taken a fancy to him."

"I hardly know what you call taking a fancy," said Violet. "I am not quite sure I like to be told that I have taken a fancy for a young man."

"I mean no offence, my dear."

"Of course you don't. But, to speak truth, I think I have rather taken a fancy to him. There is just enough of him, but not too much. I don't mean materially, –in regard to his inches; but as to his mental belongings. I hate a stupid man who can't talk to me, and I hate a clever man who talks me down. I don't like a man who is too lazy to make any effort to shine; but I particularly dislike the man who is always striving for effect. I abominate a humble man, but yet I love to perceive that a man acknowledges the superiority of my sex, and youth, and all that kind of thing."

………………

"I suppose you do not mean to fall in love with him?"

"Not that I know of, my dear. But when I do, I'll be sure to give you notice." (pp. 200-01)

Laura is the one lauded for her intelligence, but Violet is the sharper of the two. She possesses clear ideas of what women may realistically do with themselves but also of what she wants; further, her assurance that she’ll give Laura “notice” if she begins to fall for Phineas suggests her awareness that Laura’s views on Phineas are not entirely disinterested, even after she’s married Robert Kennedy. Violet is not blinded by her own ideals; if she possesses an ideal, it is one simply of not being forced into decisions she is neither willing nor ready to make.

Lady Glencora Palliser
Where this issue of women and marriage and politics really coalesces, I believe, is in one short speech made my Lady Glencora Palliser. The Pallisers are notably much less present in this the second Palliser novel than they were in the first, but Lady Glencora has a crucial conversation with the more traditional Mrs. Bonteen at a political event in which Trollope makes clear that the connection between women’s limited freedoms, so aptly described by Violet, are not just inherently political. Rather, without considering gender, any political action that purports to support equality is simply empty rhetoric:

"Making men and women all equal," said Lady Glencora. "That I take to be the gist of our political theory."

"Lady Glencora, I must cry off," said Mr. Monk.

"Yes; –no doubt. If I were in the Cabinet myself I should not admit so much. There are reticences, –of course. And there is an official discretion."

"But you don't mean to say, Lady Glencora, that you would really advocate equality?" said Mrs. Bonteen.

"I do mean to say so, Mrs. Bonteen. And I mean to go further, and to tell you that you are no Liberal at heart unless you do so likewise; unless that is the basis of your political aspirations."

"Pray let me speak for myself, Lady Glencora."

"By no means, –not when you are criticising me and my politics. Do you not wish to make the lower orders comfortable?"

"Certainly," said Mrs. Bonteen.

"And educated, and happy and good?"

"Undoubtedly."

"To make them as comfortable and as good as yourself?"

"Better if possible."

"And I'm sure you wish to make yourself as good and as comfortable as anybody else, –as those above you, if anybody is above you? You will admit that?"

"Yes; –if I understand you."

"Then you have admitted everything, and are an advocate for general equality, –just as Mr. Monk is, and as I am.” (pp. 126-27)

Lady Glencora is a curious character to choose to have speak such words, and yet in the Palliser world, she’s the only one who would and perhaps could. That she nearly left her husband for a former lover in the previous novel shouldn’t discredit what she says here for in Phineas Finn, she doesn’t appear any longer to be bridling against her position as Plantagenet Palliser’s wife; indeed, she seems entirely comfortable in the political circles in which he functions. Further, in the first volume this novel, Lady Glencora is the only Palliser allowed to speak; her husband is fairly frequently present, but Trollope doesn’t give him any dialogue. Lady Glencora is the voice of liberalism here and she is an eloquent and logical one.

So, is this book as certain as Lady Glencora is about equality being a meaningless term unless it applies to both men and women? I don’t think so. Lady Glencora is outspoken about this particular issue in part because she can afford to be – she is incredibly rich, her husband is a universally admired politician, and she’s always remarkably charming. In other words, she has nothing to lose. Further, Trollope further undermines such a proto-feminist interpretation of things near the conclusion of the first volume thus:

It was manifestly a meeting of Liberals, semi-social and semi-political; –so arranged that ladies might feel that some interest in politics was allowed to them, and perhaps some influence also. (p. 355)

This is a rather quietly crushing moment (I feel everything Trollope does is quiet, even crushing; it’s one of the reasons I love him) but I don’t think it negates the observations about the interconnections between the personal (specifically via gender) and the political above. I think, rather, that Trollope is engaging in a close and fearless explication of a political culture in transition, and particular the ways in which the individuals involved both contribute to and stifle (often simultaneously) such transition through their personal values, fears, and inability to comprehend the implications of the history they’re living.

Of course, very few real people are capable of fully comprehending the historical moment in which they live, and I think knowing this is part of what makes Trollope so gentle with his characters. And it’s also part of why I love Trollope. More anon, on Volume 2 of Phineas Finn.

Cross-posted at Bookphilia!

The Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde

2010-06-02T00:19:00.003-04:00

Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde lived only 44 years, but he managed to leave a legacy that includes novels, poems, plays, essays, & fairy tales. Two books of the last, The Happy Prince & Other Tales & A House of Pomegranates, were combined in this volume, with its sumptuous illustrations by Isabelle Brent & introduction by Neil Philip. I chose this edition because I read a giddy review of the illustrations, but I found the introduction more illuminating.

Oscar Wilde wrote these stories at least in part to entertain his sons, Cyril & Vyvyan, & "partly for those who have kept the childlike faculties of wonder & joy." Yet there is a vein of melancholy running through the tales, a debt, Neil Philip informs us, that Wilde owed to Hans Christian Andersen. Stories like "The Happy Prince", about a bird that helps a bejeweled statue of prince donate his worldly good to his subjects (lots of anthropomorphizing in these stories, which seems very Victorian to me) until the statue is worthless & the bird has died of exposure, are perfect examples of the Andersen influence.

Later stories are more elaborate, with perhaps the longest & most complex being "The Fisherman & His Soul". A man in love with a mermaid, the fisherman cuts loose his own soul (in the form of his shadow) to be with the one he loves. But that's only the beginning of this complicated tale. The morals of the early tales are pretty simple, but I just wasn't sure how to take the later stories-"The Star-Child", for instance, left me a bit flummoxed at the end.

The funniest of the stories, "The Remarkable Rocket", is apparently a caricature of the artist James McNeill Whistler. Whistler, a one-time friend of Wilde's, is now in the character of Rocket mockingly given lines like "'What right have you to be happy? You should be thinking of others. In fact, you should be thinking about me. I am always thinking about myself & I expect everybody to do the same.'"

The issues that Wilde's fairy tales return to, again & again, are the nature of friendship, vanity, greed (a young king learns that his treasures all come from the sweat & tears of weavers & slaves), the role of a person's soul in their life, & love. His stories are lengthy, & his prose magnificent, full of rich descriptions ("Pale poppies were broidered on the silk coverlet of the bed, as though they had fallen from the tired hands of sleep, and tall reeds of fluted ivory bare up the velvet canopy, from which great tufts of ostrich plumes sprang, like white foam, to the pallid silver of the fretted ceiling"). These are tales with "many secrets & many answers," as Wilde himself said, & can be enjoyed by adults as well as children.

The Meaning of Night by Michael Cox

2010-05-30T10:12:00.003-04:00

I was intending to read this book when it was first published four years ago, but for some reason I didn’t and forgot all about it until I noticed it in the library recently. I’m glad I finally got round to it, even if I’m late as usual!

The plot will be a familiar one to anyone who has read a lot of Victorian fiction – it’s a story of love, betrayal and deceit, revolving around a lost inheritance and a childhood rivalry. A vast country estate, a beautiful, mysterious heroine, and the dark, foggy streets of 19th century London combine to make this a clever imitation of the Victorian sensation novel.

In a similar way to The Unburied which I reviewed earlier this month, the book is presented as a genuine 19th century manuscript, complete with an ‘Editor’s Preface’ and numerous footnotes. The use of footnotes, which seemed to appear on almost every page, reminded me of Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. However, whereas in Jonathan Strange the footnotes really added something to the story, providing us with fascinating anecdotes about the history of magic, in The Meaning of Night they served very little purpose – other than to give the book a scholarly feel. Overall though, this was one of the best written of all the novels of this type that I’ve read so far and I was impressed by the author’s use of language and writing style to make this feel like an authentic 19th century novel.

The narrator, Edward Glyver, is really quite a horrible person. In the first chapter – in fact, in the first sentence (so this is not a spoiler) – he confesses to murder:

"After killing the red-haired man, I took myself off to Quinn’s for an oyster supper."

He also cheats on the woman who loves him, develops an obsession with his enemy, Phoebus Rainsford Daunt – and becomes increasingly dependent on opium, making him an unreliable narrator at times. Is he a character deserving of our sympathy, then? Definitely not – and yet, I was rooting for him throughout the story, wanting him to right the wrongs that had been done to him, which is a testament to Michael Cox’s writing skills.

The only thing that really disappointed me about this book was the ending. I can’t say too much about it without spoiling the story for you, but the ending left me feeling dissatisfied – I had been hoping for a few more plot twists.

This book won’t be to everyone’s taste – if you simply don’t like intricately plotted Victorian or Victorian-style novels you’ll want to avoid this one. However, fans of Charles Dickens or Wilkie Collins will probably enjoy this book, as they were clearly two of Michael Cox’s influences (many of the characters have Dickensian names such as Phoebus Daunt, Fordyce Jukes and Josiah Pluckrose). It should also appeal to readers of Sarah Waters, Charles Palliser or other writers of neo-Victorian fiction. In particular, I found it very similar to Palliser’s The Quincunx, though slightly less complex and intellectually demanding.

Also posted at She Reads Novels

Doctor Thorne

2010-05-28T20:32:00.000-04:00

Doctor Thorne. Anthony Trollope. 1858. 639 pages. (Oxford World's Classic, 1981)

Before the reader is introduced to the modest country medical practitioner who is to be the chief personage of the following tale, it will be well that he should be made acquainted with some particulars as to the locality in which, and the neighbors among whom, our doctor followed his profession.

Doctor Thorne is the third in the Chronicles of Barsetshire series by Anthony Trollope. The first two are The Warden and Barchester Towers. Though it is part of a series, it can truly stand on its own.

There is Doctor Thorne and his niece, Mary. The Gresham family--the squire, his oh-so-proud wife, Lady Arabella, his firstborn son, Frank, who must marry money. (They hope that by saying it every hour of every day that maybe just maybe Frank will realize his responsibility to the family.) And the Gresham daughters--the two who enter into the story are Augusta, who has cause for some of the bitterness, and Beatrice, who is sometimes cranky and other times sweet as can be. (Lady Arabella is proud of her de Courcy blood. These de Courcy relations enter into the story as well.) Then there are the Scatcherds--Sir Roger and his son, Louis. (Of course there is a Lady Scatcherd as well.) They may not have the best blood, but they do have money. Money that the Greshams desperately need (and therefore borrow never minding the consequences) And then there are the competing doctors in the neighborhood. But I won't go there. (Though they do lend some humor now and then.)

What is this one about? Frank loves Mary. Mary loves Frank. But. Mary is not an heiress. Mary is also not of good birth, but that isn't as big of a stumbling block for most. It seems these two find themselves in an impossible position. They cannot marry for they have nothing to live on. But they cannot stop loving one another either. Though Mary says that she'll not hold Frank to any of his promises, he cannot even begin to picture himself married to someone else. Not once he's sure of her love.

Because Lady Arabella is not getting her way--how dare her son have his own ideas about how to live his life--she decides to make everyone miserable--her husband (who she has been making miserable for almost the whole duration of their marriage), her son (who couldn't possibly take joy in his mother nagging him day and night), and her daughter, Beatrice (how dare her daughter want to be friends with the enemy). And of course this includes, Mary (how dare Mary follow her heart, she should know her place. She is a nobody after all) and the doctor (how could her doctor not interfere in the matter, how dare he not put his niece in her place. Well, she'll just have to deny him the pleasure of her business).

I loved this one. I did. I love Anthony Trollope. I love his characters. I love the complexity of his communities. How he peoples his novels so richly, so diversely. I love his narration. How he at times speaks directly to the readers, addresses the fact that this is a novel and that he is the writer. I love his sense of humor. I love how me makes me smile with his descriptions. His writing is amusing, charming, and oh-so-engaging. I cared about the characters. I cared about the story. Even though it's over six hundred pages, I wanted more. I would have gladly spent more time in the company of these characters.

I don't love Flaubert

2010-05-23T10:02:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gentlemen: Gustave Flaubert. I read Madame Bovary about 10 years ago and didn't enjoy it much; not because I thought Emma Bovary was a "slut" or something, as I've heard so many early 20-something members of the earnestocracy call her since. No, I just didn't think it was a very engaging book. Flaubert (and/or his translator) failed in the case of Emma Bovary and her very real plight to make me give even one tiny bit of a damn, either emotional or mental, about her, never mind any other character in the novel.

I'm sorry to say that, older and hopefully more mature as I am, I've found myself to be equally uninterested in every character of Flaubert's A Sentimental Education. Published in 1869 after Flaubert spent 5 years working on it, this novel is apparently one of the most influential of the 19th century, and was adored by George Sand, Emile Zola, and Henry James. I haven't read Sand yet, but I really disliked the one Zola novel I've read so far; as for Henry James, everything and anything is forgiven in someone who could write like that. If I weren't doing my French Literature Project, I would have taken Zola's approbation of Flaubert's book as a warning not to read it.

A Sentimental Education tells the story of one Frédéric Moreau, a young man from the provinces come to Paris to study and make his name and fortune. He's got some talent, but he's not brilliant; he's charming but prone to make social blunders which others nonetheless forgive him for. He's not stupid but he is remarkably flighty and shallow and generally unlikeable - and yet, his fortune ultimately comes to lie in the way of making advantage "alliances" with women with power and money. Mind, he always holds a flame for one Madame Arnoux, who does eventually fall for him, but won't ultimately go there.

First of all, all these women who either love or want Moreau - why? I never once got a sense of what could possibly be attracting any of them to him. And this is not a simple case of taste - Flaubert completely fails to indicate where the attraction might lie. One thing I really loved about Dangerous Liaisons was that while most of Choderlos de Laclos's characters were essentially despicable, his writing was sophisticated enough to make them incredibly compelling as well. There's nothing I hate more than a boring villain or cad, and I'm sorry to say that I Flaubert writes nothing else in A Sentimental Education.

Besides penning a tale peopled by the incredibly dull, Flaubert also fails to make the historical context in which he set his tale - the 1848 revolution and creation of the French Second Republic - seem anything but a dry exercise in listing historical details. I haven't read many historical novels - or, more likely, I haven't engaged with them enough as such - but having recently read Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall, I have a sense of what a really good author can do with history, and Flaubert doesn't do it. History itself can come to seem so real as to have a pulse and a heartbeat, or it can seem so real as to cause claustrophobia - but not, I'm sorry to say, in A Sentimental Education.

In the end, this novel read to me like an intellectual exercise rather than as art; in my view, art should savour somewhat of the mystical if only in the execution (Henry James!). That Flaubert had an intellectual agenda in mind when writing this novel seems pretty clear both from the book itself and from translator Douglass Parmée's introduction to this edition. Parmée begins his intro with a series of aphorisms of Flaubert's describing both what he wanted this novel to do and how people ought to read it. I think it's Flaubert's instructions on how to read A Sentimental Education that caused me the most irritation, however: "Don't read A Sentimental Education like children, for diversion, nor for instruction, like ambitious persons; no, read it in order to live."

Eh? Every single character in this novel is either an idiot, a dullard, fatally spineless, or as selfish as a spoiled child - how are we supposed to use such things in our daily living? And how are we supposed to use it to live without taking it as instruction anyway? It is not the job of the novelist to tell his or her readers how to read, or why - and it's a doomed effort anyway. The thing about committed readers is that we will have our own experiences of each book we read, and I'm surprised when authors so completely fail to remember that. It makes me want to punch Flaubert (and maybe Harold Bloom) in the neck a little.

Now, I know it's too late to say this and be believable, but I will nonetheless try: in spite of the above, I didn't hate this novel. I didn't like it much, no, but there were substantial chunks of time in which I found myself reading a pretty good novel rather than a badly executed pamphlet, and those were enjoyable, engaging, and thought-provoking times. In spite of such moments, however, I doubt I'll make time for Flaubert in the future - such moments were too much the exception.

To redeem my experience of 19th-century literature, I've already launched myself into the second of Anthony Trollope's Palliser novels, Phineas Finn - and so far, so good. But now, I'm off for Sunday brunch in the sunshine with friends.

Cross-posted at Bookphilia.com

Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy

2010-05-19T12:21:00.003-04:00

Tess Durbeyfield's life changes forever when her father learns that he is descended from the noble D'Urbervilles. After discovering that he has some wealthy D'Urberville relatives living nearby, Tess is sent to visit them in an attempt to improve the family's fortunes. While there she is taken advantage of by Alec D'Urberville and returns to her parents pregnant. A few years later when she falls in love with Angel Clare, the parson's son, she is forced to decide whether to trust Angel with the truth about her past…

It seems that people either love or hate Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Among those who hate it the main reasons for disliking it appear to be that the book was too dark and depressing, or that Tess was too passive and weak. Although I can understand these complaints, I personally fall into the group of readers who loved the book. I don't have a problem with a story being tragic, melodramatic or depressing as long as it's well-written. And Hardy's writing is beautiful. With other books I am often tempted to skim through pages of descriptions of trees, fields, sunrises etc, but Hardy's portrayal of nature and the English countryside is so poetic I wanted to read every word. Be prepared, though – you will learn more than you ever wanted to know about milking cows, threshing wheat and slicing turnips!

It's true that Tess doesn’t stand up for herself enough – there were plenty of times when I wanted to scream at her – but I mostly felt sorry for her. She was young (sixteen I think at the start of the book), innocent, naive, and didn't have the best family life, with a father who was often drunk. It seemed that everything that could go wrong for her did go wrong. More than poor Tess, it was Alec d'Urberville and Angel Clare who both really infuriated me – and I actually thought Angel was worse than Alec in some respects.

The injustice of a society with different sets of rules for men and women, Christianity vs pagan symbolism, the Industrial Revolution, and the class system of Victorian England are some of the interesting topics this book covers. The only thing I didn't like about the book was the ending – the final chapters just didn't seem to fit with the rest of the novel.

So, if you haven't read this book yet give it a try – you might hate it…but you might just love it like I did.

She Reads Novels

North and South

2010-05-15T20:33:00.000-04:00

North and South. Elizabeth Gaskell. 1854-1855.* 452 pages.

'Edith!' said Margaret, gently, 'Edith!'
But, as Margaret half suspected, Edith had fallen asleep.

I loved this one. I really loved this one. I think it is easily my favorite Elizabeth Gaskell. So far. I've read Wives and Daughters. Mary Barton. And Cranford. (Though perhaps if Wives and Daughters had been finished, then they'd be some competition.)

Is it a romance? Is it a novel of two different social classes battling it out? Is it a novel about the industrial revolution that was for better or worse changing the world, changing life as they knew it at least, transforming it into who knows what? Is it about the ethics of business, and the responsibilities of the middle class? Maybe a little bit of all the above.

Margaret, our heroine, is a dutiful daughter. (But that doesn't mean she doesn't have opinions. And that doesn't mean she'll keep quiet about having opinions either.) She accompanies her parents to the Northern town of Milton. Though she'd much rather have stayed in the South, in the comfy-cozy parsonage where she spent so many happy years. But after her father, Mr. Hale, decides he has to split from the Church--that he has to give up his vicarage, well, the family moves to the North. (It's not so much what is best for the family that is to be considered, but what is best for Mr. Hale has to be what's best for his wife and daughter.) Mr. Hale becomes a tutor, a teacher to the young men (and some older men) in this manufacturing town. (Not that the town has high goals for education. No, it's all work all the time, in some ways.)

One of her father's favorite students is Mr. John Thornton. He is a mill owner. One of the wealthier folks in the town of Milton. He is one of the first people in town that Margaret meets. And you might say that neither got a fair impression--a true impression--of the other. And Miss Hale doesn't make the best of impressions on John's family either. His mother. His sister. But John--for better or worse--can't help being distracted by Margaret. It doesn't matter what his mother has to say on the subject. There's just something about Margaret that keeps her on his mind. All the time. Even when he has no reason at all to hope...

What does Margaret think of John? Well, it's complicated! It almost always is in these classics isn't it!

I loved this one. I loved its depth. I loved its characters. I loved its twists and turns. I loved its descriptions.** It is definitely bittersweet. (You should probably know that going into it. At least if you're sensitive to such things.) But it is oh-so-good. I would definitely recommend this one. I thought it was an amazing read.

If you listen to audio books, you should consider listening to North and South. Naxos released an unabridged edition of the novel this past February. (I believe there is an abridged version available as well.) It is read by Clare Wille. I'm not quite finished with the audio book. (I read faster than I listen.) But what I've heard so far has been good.

*The Oxford edition I read was published in 1998. It doesn't match the cover though. The cover is from the 2008 Oxford edition.
**One of my favorite descriptions comes towards the end of the novel. When Margaret returns to her old town, and learns about the new vicar and some of the changes that have happened during the years she's been away:

'Times is changed, miss; our new Vicar has seven children, and is building a nursery ready for more, just out where the arbour and tool-house used to be in old times. And he has had new grates put in, and a plate-glass window in the drawing room. He and his wife are stirring people, and have done a deal of good; at least they say it's doing good; if it were not I should call it turning things upside down for very little purpose.' (387)

That is such a GREAT description of a church, a congregation, getting a new preacher. At least in my experience.

© Becky Laney of Becky's Book Reviews

No Name - Wilkie Collins

2010-05-14T14:09:00.000-04:00

I have a Little Nell Policy on spoilering classics, because not everyone has read everything ever despite Oscar Wildean quotes to the contrary, so if you have the Oxford World's Classic version of No Name DO NOT READ THE BACK FLAP! Something Horrible happens circa page 100, and something Scandalous is revealed maybe 30 pages later, but the back flap tells all.

I'mma try not to tell all here. So, Norah and Magdalen Vanstone are well-off young ladies of marriageable age, and then something Horrible is followed by a Scandalous revelation and Magdalen goes on a quest for vengeance, which is both odd and sort of hilarious. Not...ok, No Name isn't terribly funny in the way that The Woman in White is terribly funny and The Moonstone is kind of funny. But a well-bred Victorian girl joining forces with a Known Rogue to settle a score, her reputation be damned? It's pretty great.

And there is so. much. plotting. By a certain point, the Known Rogue is locked in a battle for devious supremacy with the enemy's Housekeeper, and then it's literally hundreds of pages of scheme and counter-scheme, most of which involve intercepted letters and disguises and feigned illnesses.

There's a longish space near the end where the only way I could see it wrapping up was anti-climactically. There was an easy-and-boring solution waiting just near enough that I could see it, but far enough in the wings that it might legitimately jump out and be all The End! But that falls through, and improbable coincidence meets benevolent benefactry in a froth of Victorian HEA.

No Name was considered pretty immoral at the time (even though no one ever actually poisons anyone, despite all the tantalizing opportunities there are for poisoning) and it takes a bit of a brain shift to empathize, which you need to do because ultimately No Name is about choosing the Path of Good or the Path of Evil, and it's hard to get the full effect when all you see is the Path of Good and the Path of Kind of Dastardly But Probably Something I Would Do Given the Circumstances, Especially If My Life Were a Novel (i.e. I Would Probably Poison Someone). Magdalen is constantly wringing her hands and agonizing over things and I'm all, what? Oh. Yes, I guess that's sort of bad.

And I know I always use this as an excuse but it's Victorian. So there are frequent references to the weakness of the female sex that have to be contended with, but I like to take those as the necessary opinions of the scoundrels who utter them and not of The Collins himself, whose female characters include such excellent creatures as Marian Halcombe, and whose menfolks are usually filed under Milquetoast (see also Wilkes, Ashley).

So! Not my favorite Collins, but better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

Cross-posted at books i done read

Plantagenet Palliser, Trollope's Coalition Prime Minister

2010-05-07T14:13:00.002-04:00

With the UK election yesterday ending in a hung Parliament, and a coalition government to follow, Anthony Trollope's novel The Prime Minister comes to mind. His character Plantagenet Palliser, the diffident, high-minded, impolitic aristocrat who heads a fictional coalition government, bears some resemblance to another British politician of today, as an Oxford professor noted recently in the blog of the Oxford University Press. The blog post "Plantagenet Palliser vs. Gordon Brown" summarizes the parallels rather nicely.

It is still unclear who will lead the coalition government in the UK, but if Palliser's unhappy fictional example offers an accurate glimpse of the experience of a coalition leader, it is not an enviable position.

The Beth Book by Sarah Grand

2010-05-07T03:07:00.002-04:00

This novel is really a manifesto, decrying the terrible injustices suffered by late-Victorian women. The book follows the life of Beth Caldwell, a woman of intelligence and literary talent, who is denied education and opportunity. All of the Caldwell family resources are invested in Beth's brother, Jim, and her life is full of injustice. After losing her father in childhood, Beth and her family move from Ireland to Yorkshire, where the family falls into poverty. Still, all resources are funneled into Beth's arrogant and feckless brother. There is little love in young Beth's life: her father is dead, her mother finds Beth aggravating. To escape Beth marries early, a man who turns out to be a lout. Beth's husband relishes using all of the privileges that law and custom afford him over women, and his despicable character is quickly uncovered. Originally published in 1897, this books is meant to be a fictionalized account of Grand's life, and she shares the Irish and Yorkshire origins of her heroine, as well as the unhappy marriage, and the limits of Victorian womanhood. The truly terrible strictures that bound late-nineteenth century women are evident throughout this book. Grand is certainly not the only one to write of these issues, and she is hardly the most subtle. Grand clearly writes from anger and exasperation, but her prose retains literary merit.

Sarah Grand, The Beth Book (Dial, 1981) ISBN: 0803705522, 528 pages

The Unburied by Charles Palliser

2010-05-02T04:57:00.002-04:00

The title of this book may suggest a horror story complete with zombies and vampires, but The Unburied is actually a scholarly murder mystery which reminded me of The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco or An Instance of the Fingerpost by Iain Pears. I wanted to read it because a few years ago I read another Charles Palliser book, The Quincunx, which I really enjoyed. Like The Quincunx, this one is set (mostly) in Victorian England. It begins with a mock ‘Editor’s Foreword’ in which we are told that we are about to read an account which will throw new light on the controversial Thurchester Mystery. This account, known as The Courtine Account, forms the bulk of the book.

Dr Edward Courtine, a historian from Cambridge University, has been invited to spend the week before Christmas with Austin Fickling, an old friend from his student days who is now teaching at a school in the cathedral city of Thurchester. He and Austin haven’t seen each other since they parted on bad terms twenty years ago, and Courtine is eager to renew their friendship. He also has another reason for wanting to visit Thurchester – he has been studying King Alfred the Great and has learned that an ancient manuscript detailing the events of Alfred’s reign may be available in Thurchester Library.

On the night of Courtine’s arrival he hears the story of a murder that took place in the cathedral two centuries earlier. Courtine is fascinated, but as he begins to investigate he becomes involved in another murder mystery – and discovers Austin’s true motive for inviting him to Thurchester.

As the main narrator of the book, I found Courtine very irritating, but at the same time I felt slightly sorry for him. For such an obviously intelligent person he was completely lacking in perception, constantly saying the wrong things, missing important clues and failing to notice people behaving suspiciously. Sometimes he would tell us that he was beginning to form a theory or that an idea had occurred to him, but he didn’t let us know what it was. This was good in one way, as it encouraged me to work things out for myself, but it also annoyed me because I was already finding it difficult enough to keep all the threads of the story straight.

Although the town of Thurchester and its community are vividly depicted, I didn’t find any of the characters particularly memorable. The fact that some of them had similar names (Slattery, Sheldrick, Sisterton for example) didn’t help. There is actually a character list at the back of the book but I was trying not to look at it in case I came across any spoilers. As for the plot, it’s so intricate you really need to read this book in as few sittings as possible so you don’t forget any important details. There seemed to be a constant stream of unexplained deaths and forged documents, with at least three separate mysteries from different eras all running parallel to each other – and different characters giving different versions of what may or may not have happened. I wished I had been taking notes from the beginning.

This is a very atmospheric book with lots of gothic elements, from the freezing fog that accompanies Courtine’s arrival in Thurchester to the obligatory ‘ghost’ supposedly haunting the cathedral. It would have been a good book to read in front of the fire on a cold winter’s night. In spite of the slow pace the book was relatively quick to read and although it was certainly confusing, I did enjoy it, especially when the various mysteries began to unravel towards the end. Not as good as The Quincunx, though – if you’ve never read a Charles Palliser book before, try that one first.

Originally posted at She Reads Novels

"The Masque of the Red Death" by Edgar Allan Poe

2010-04-26T04:33:00.000-04:00

"The Masque of the Red Death" by Edgar Allan Poe

"The Masque of the Red Death" by Edgar Allan Poe (1842, ten pages, read via Dailylit.com)

Edgar Allan Poe (1809 to 1949) is considered one of the early masters of the Gothic horror story. He was one of the very first American authors to write broadly in the short story genre. Wikipedia says he was the first well known American writer to make his living from the sales of his work. He lead a trouble life that ended far to soon.

"The Masque of the Red Death" is set at the home of PrinceProspero, a converted abbey. We are not given the time of the story but it feels like the 1500s to me in Italy.

As the story opens a terrible disease is ravaging the land ruled by Prince Prospero. The language of the story is rich and opulent. The story has a decadent feel to it. Here is Poe's description of the Red Death, as the disease is called:

THE "Red Death" had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood was its Avatar and its seal -- the redness and the horror of blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. The scarlet stains upon the body and especially upon the face of the victim, were the pest ban which shut him out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. And the whole seizure, progress and termination of the disease, were the incidents of half an hour.

The Prince decides to try to avoid the red death. He summons all the nobles and gentry of his princedom to a grand ball which is to be held in the seven rooms of his abbey. It is a masked costumed ball. The prince is completely indifferent to the sufferings of his people and just intends to wait out the end of the disease behind his walls and in his great luxury. Here is Poe's description of the party (I see a dream like quality to the feel of the party):

There was much of the beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, something of the terrible, and not a little of that which might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. And these -- the dreams -- writhed in and about, taking hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall of the velvet.

I won't tell any more of the plot. Dailylit.com and other places like it make it easy for us to read short stories. There are allegorical and philosophical interpretations that could be put on this brief tale concerning the nature of death etc. To me the very real pleasure in this story is in the rich prose rather than the plot. "The Masque of the Red Death" is a classic American short story well worth the few minutes it will take to read it.

Mel u

The Reading Life

The Warden by Anthony Trollope

2010-04-18T14:13:00.002-04:00

Being a lover of Victorian fiction, I have wanted to read something by Anthony Trollope for a long time but didn't know which of his books to begin with. I've heard a lot about The Way We Live Now and Can You Forgive Her? but I decided to go with The Warden because it's relatively short and I thought that if I wasn't enjoying it I'd be more likely to finish a book with 200 pages than one with 800. Luckily, this wasn't a problem – I enjoyed the book and wouldn’t have minded if it had been longer.

In the year 1434 John Hiram established a hospital (or almshouse) in the town of Barchester where for centuries to come, twelve elderly, infirm men could live under the care of a warden. At the time when the story takes place, Septimus Harding is the current warden and whilst the amount of money given to the old men has barely changed at all over time, the warden's income has increased to eight hundred pounds a year. When reformer John Bold decides to investigate, Harding finds himself facing a moral dilemma.

The book really made me stop and think, because none of the characters seemed to be either completely in the wrong or completely in the right. Although it was clearly unfair that Mr. Harding was receiving so much money, I sympathised with him because as soon as the unfairness of his position was brought to his attention he became determined to do the right thing. As for the other main characters – John Bold and Harding's son-in-law Archdeacon Grantly – although they are on opposite sides of the debate and have very different opinions regarding the warden's situation, Trollope presents them both as well-intentioned people with normal human flaws. The female characters don't play a very big role in this book, but I loved the relationship between Mr. Harding and his daughter Eleanor.

I really liked Trollope's writing style which is elegant, insightful and witty in a gentle way. There are a few chapters where he departs from the main storyline to spend several pages talking about politics or the media but this is a common trait of Victorian writers. Although it was slow moving in places, Trollope managed to keep me interested from beginning to end. I'm sure some of his other books will be better, but this one was good enough to make me want to read more of his work.

She Reads Novels

Curios by Richard Marsh

2010-04-08T17:46:00.002-04:00

Two Victorian gentlemen, last seen around 1898, have been brought back into society by the wonderful Valancourt books.

Mr Tress and Mr Pugh. They were childhood friends and, most of the time, they are still friends, but they are also bitter rivals. Because, you see, they are both collectors of curios.

Two very different men. Mr Tress is rational and pragmatic, while Mr Pugh is emotional and impulsive.

And each is driven by that same compulsion: the acquisition and ownership of the finest, the rarest, the most desirable objects. Sometimes they work together very well, but more often than not each is trying to outmanoeuvre and outdo the other.

It’s a highly entertaining, and very believable, relationship.

Some weird and wonderful objects have passed through their hands: a poisoned pipe that seems to come to life when smoked, a 14th century severed hand bent on murder, a phonograph record on which a murdered woman speaks from beyond the grave….

And so each gentleman has some wonderful stories to tell. An extraordinary range of stories: there’s comedy, mystery and drama inside this dark little book.

I heard echoes of both Wilkie Collins and Arthur Conan-Doyle, but I also heard a voice that was very distinctive.

The voice of a master storyteller. Richard Marsh can ratchet up the tension, and then he knows just when to let go. He can present a puzzle that you think in unsolvable, and then provide the perfect answer. He can pull you along on a journey that makes you forget everything else. And he can make you hold your breath, gasp, laugh cry…

I’m sorry to have heard the last of the stories of Mr Tress and Mr Pugh.

But as a collector myself (of books) I’m quite sure that more of Richard Marsh’s work will be finding its way on to my shelves before too long…

The Doctor's Wife by Mary Elizabeth Braddon

2010-04-08T14:29:00.001-04:00

Isabel Sleaford lives in a dream world filled with characters from novels by Dickens, Scott and Thackeray. She longs to break away from her boring existence as a children's governess and live the exciting life of one of the heroines in her favourite books. When parish doctor George Gilbert proposes to her, she accepts but quickly finds that her marriage isn't providing the drama and adventure she's been dreaming of. George is a good man, but he's practical, down to earth – and boring, at least in Isabel's opinion. After meeting Roland Lansdell, the squire of Mordred Priory, she becomes even more discontented. Roland is romantic, poetic and imaginative – in other words, he's everything that George isn't...

This is the second Mary Elizabeth Braddon book I've read – the first was the book that she's best known for today, the sensation novel Lady Audley's Secret. Apparently The Doctor's Wife was Braddon's attempt at writing a more serious, literary novel, with a plot inspired by Gustave Flaubert's Madame Bovary. The Doctor's Wife is not very 'sensational' – apart from maybe the final few chapters – and although it's interesting and compelling in a different way, if you're expecting something similar to Lady Audley you might be slightly disappointed. At one point in the book, Braddon even tells us "this is not a sensation novel!"

The focus of The Doctor's Wife is the development of Isabel Gilbert from a sentimental girl with her head permanently in the clouds into a sensible and mature woman. I didn't like Isabel much at all, though I'm not really sure if I was supposed to. Throughout most of the book she was just so silly and immature – wishing that she would catch a terrible illness or some other tragedy would befall her, just so she could have some excitement in her life – although as several of the other characters pointed out, she wasn't a bad person, just childish and foolish. It was sad that her own romantic notions and ideals were preventing her from having any chance of happiness.

I thought some of the minor characters were much more interesting and I would have liked them to have played a bigger part in the story. I particularly loved Sigismund Smith, who was a friend of both George and Isabel, and a 'sensation author' – probably a parody of Mary Elizabeth Braddon herself. Sigismund (whose real name is Sam) is a writer of 'penny numbers' – cheap, serialised adventure stories. His enthusiasm for his work and his unusual methods of researching his novels provide most of the humour in the book.

Due to Isabel's reading, almost every page contains allusions to characters and events from various novels, plays and poems – most of which I haven't read - so I found myself constantly having to turn to the notes at the back of the book (until I decided I could follow the story well enough without understanding all the references to Edith Dombey and Ernest Maltravers).

Overall, this was another great book from Mary Elizabeth Braddon, although not quite what I was expecting.

Helen Loves Books

2010-04-07T17:20:00.000-04:00

"Bartleby, The Scrivener" by Herman Melville

"Bartleby, The Scrivener" by Herman Melville (1853 and revised 1856-39 pages)

I read this story about a year ago, before I began my blog. I decided to reread it now as it somehow reminded me in several ways of a great literary work of art I recently posted on, "The Overcoat" by Nikolai Gogol published in 1842, eleven years prior to "Bartleby, The Scrivener". The central character in "The Overcoat" is also a copier of documents, the meaning of the term "scrivener". There was in the days before copy machines a huge demand for scriveners to duplicate legal and government documents. The work was boring and mind numbing. The scrivener in both stories is an isolated man with no family or friends and few social skills. Melville and Gogol each wrote one towering master novel that defines their place in literary history. The central character in both stories is hard to really understand. Both stories are seen as forerunners of the literature of the absurd and the existential novels of the post World War Two Period. Both deal with a man somehow frustrated by life in ways that are hard to fathom. Both central characters today feel like a near nameless everyman caught up in a corporate night mare world.

I think what surprised me a lot about "Bartleby, The Scrivener" was that it is quite funny. The narrator of the story is an attorney to the wealthy of New York City. He deals in mortgages, bonds, and contracts and does not sully himself with criminal cases. He is a decent man, good to his employees. He has two scriveners working for him when the story begins, Nippers and Turkey. Turkey is often drunk in the morning but by afternoon he sobers up and is a good dedicated worker. Nippers has chronic stomach problems but is alert in the mornings. He also employes an office boy called "Ginger nut" as his man function seems to be to bring ginger nut cakes to the two scriveners. The attorney knows his workers are not perfect but he is a fair and reasonable man and accepts that they are not bad so he keeps them on. His business begins to increase so he puts out an ad for a third scrivener. Bartleby appears at his office to apply for the job. He is a kind of sad seeming young man, bland in his appearance but well spoken so he is hired. The narrator hopes his calm personality will bring peace between the often squabbling Nippers and Turkey. For a while everything is great. Bartleby is a very hard work and does not seem to have any quirks of personality. He is the ideal employee, never late, never stops working, and is always very subservient in his attitude, something that cannot be said of the other scriveners. Part of the work of a scrivener is to proofread each others work as the smallest mistake in a legal document could be very harmful. One day the attorney asks Bartleby to help in proof reading and Bartleby says, in a very calm unemotional way detached way "I would prefer not to." Bartleby begins to do less and less around the office. Soon his response to every request that he join in the work of the office is "I would prefer not to." The attorney asks him about his background and life history and he is told when asked to relay information about himself that "I would prefer not to." Soon the other employees are very upset. Why is Bartleby allowed to simply refuse to work without explanation. Turkey offers to give him a good thrashing and Nippers just wants him thrown out. The narrator is a very kind decent man but he cannot have this go on. One day one of the leading attorneys of New York City drops by. He needs a simple errand run and notices Bartleby is doing nothing. He asks him to run the errand and is told "I would prefer not to." The narrator is losing face as more and more people learn about Bartleby. He offers Bartleby the equivalent of two months pay to leave and tells him if he needs help in the future he will help him. Bartleby tells him he when asked when he will leave "I would prefer not to." There are some interesting fun twists in what happens to Bartleby so I will not reveal more of the plot.

There are religious and philosophical interpretions that could be put on this story. There is reference to Jonathan Edwards, a thinker on free will and maybe there is a point to seeing Bartleby as man trying to assert his freedom the only way he can, by refusing to do what he does not want to. This story still speaks to us because of the sheer absurdity of Bartleby. He has figured how to deal with absurd demands and requests. Just say "I would prefer not to".

The writing style is very different from Moby Dick. As fits the themes of the novel, the prose is almost bland feeling (bland for Melville that is!) . We get to know the narrator, the attorney, and his world well. Bartleby remains a mystery to us. "The Overcoat" is the greater work of art of the two stories but "Bartleby, The Scrivener" runs it a a close second and I think Gogol would have understood this story as would Kafka and Oe. I will be reading more short stories as I am coming to understand more an art form I have perhaps not respected as well as I should as it does not quite suit my need for worlds to enter.

Mel u

The Reading Life

"Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte

2010-03-29T21:46:00.000-04:00

"Wuthering Heights" by Emily Bronte

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte (1847, 385 pages, Vintage Books)

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte (1818 to 1848) is the 5th novel by a Bronte sister I have read this year. Emily was the middle sister, with Anne the youngest and Charlotte was the family big sister. Wuthering Heights is on nearly every list of 100 best novels ever written, some times at a mark well above the top 50. The lead male character, Heathcliff, is the forerunner for the troubled brooding "bad boy" hero of surely 1000s of novels in many languages. Wuthering Heights has been made into a movie numerous times. It was the only novel ever published by Emily. (I read somewhere that Charlotte found a completed manuscript after Emily's death at thirty but destroyed the work as of inferior quality.)

The name of the novel comes from the name of a mansion in the moors, "Wuthering" is an old fashioned word used in the Yorkshire region of England to mean bad weather. For those not quite sure what a moor is here is a description from Wikipedia:

Moorland or moor is a type of habitat found in upland areas, characterized by low growing vegetation on acidic soils. Moorland nowadays generally means uncultivated hill land.

The basic plot of the novel is well known, even many who have never read it and never will know the plot. I do not feel any need to retell it here. I will just try to say what I like about the novel and what did not quite work for me.

I love much of the style of the writing. It is very different from that of Anne or Charlotte.    Somehow the language of Wuthering Heights seems older, darker and deeper. I enjoyed much of the atmosphere of the book. I enjoyed the quirky nearly dysfunctional characters that populate the novel at all levels. I enjoyed learning about the childhood of the characters. Emily is very insightful in showing how a troubled childhood can shape people in a way that fits them best for the shadows of life.   I think Emily understands the power such people can have on those with no firm anchors in life. In this maybe Wuthering Heights is also in the tradition of Vampire Romances and helps us understand the power of these narratives and to understand in part why the vampire is such an attractive icon to many. I liked the minor characters a lot. With dark mansion, the moors, a troubled brooding hero with a mysterious past and some ghosts thrown in Wuthering Heights is solidly in the mood of a gothic novel. The plot action of Wuthering Heights is not told in nearly as straight forward a way as Jane Eyre or Anne's two novels.

In the book blog world Jane Eyre is nearly universally loved. I have seen a lot of posts with Jane Eyre  listed as a favorite book. Wuthering Heights gets mixed reactions as I see it from my brief research. Some do not like the feel of the prose (I personally do not like "country" dialects in conversations and there is a good bit of this in the work). Some do not feel the character of Heathcliff is as well done as that of Mr. Rochester. Some feel that the plotting is confusing and hard to follow. Others see it as the deepest of the work of the Bronte sisters and see Catherine and Heathcliff as the best pair of literary lovers of the first half of the 19th century. I enjoyed all the references to reading in the novel. (All of the sisters and Branwell were for sure into the reading life.)

As a personal note, and I am sure I am not alone in this, I could not help but think of another now better know Heathcliff as I was reading Wuthering Heights. Wuthering Heights a great cultural treasure and a very important book in literary history, not just in England. I subscribe to about 300 book blogs and they are full of reviews of novels with a Heathcliff type man on the cover, often with his shirt undo and his hair flowing in the breeze. The question then becomes, no offense meant by this, are the Brontes books of primary appeal to women? If one of my three daughters brought home a Heathcliff or Mr Rochester as a future husband I would be very upset. I am sure my wife would be terribly worried that the youthful passion of our daughters had blinded them to a man that will ultimately hurt or even destroy her. I have enjoyed some back and forth comments concerning Jean Rhys's account of the character of Mr Rochester in Wide Sargasso Sea following my posting on that work.     Perhaps the majority opinion is that Jean got him wrong. (I think she got him right but I will reread Wide Sargasso Sea this year as I read it prior to my reading of Jane Eyre. In terms of literary quality that does not matter but given the huge import of the books of the Brontes it seems a question worth pondering. I will come back to in the last quarter of the year.)

Any body interested in the 19th century novel (most have probably already read it) should read this book. I am in the process of reading all seven of the Bronte novels in close order. I have two to go, both by Charlotte, The Professor and Shirley. The advance notices I have picked up are not that good on them, (boring, obvious first novel etc) but I like a sense of completion and there are only seven Bronte novels anyway so I figure I should read them all.

Mel u
The Reading Life

"The Aspern Papers" by Henry James

2010-03-26T07:00:00.002-04:00

"The Aspern Papers" by Henry James

The Aspern Papers by Henry James (1888, 84 pages in Barnes and Noble Edition)

The Aspern Papers is considered from the start of James middle period. ( James was born in New York City in 1843 into a wealthy very educated and cultured family. He lived in Europe for many years and eventually became an English citizen. He died in 1916. He produced a huge diverse volume of literary works. Several of his novels often show up on lists of 100 best novels.) It was published between The Bostonians and a Tragic Muse. I greatly enjoyed The Bostonians and have not yet read The Tragic Muse. It is considered by many a small master work of 19th century American prose. I would say first it is not hard to read. It does not have super long sentences with four or five subordinate clauses. It does not have a lot of characters, only three in fact. It in fact is a pleasure to read and the plot action is easy to follow.

The central figure of The Aspern Papers, we never learn his name, is a literary biographer and collector and seller of memorabilia of famous writers. He has heard a rumor that a very elderly lady living in Venice, Juliana Bordereau, was at one time the lover of a deceased now famous American poet, Jeffrey Aspern. (Aspern is creation of James.) He finds out the elderly lady lives in genteel poverty in a very large house in Venice. He quickly discerns that they are barely surviving on an annuity and offers to pay an above market amount to rent a room in her house. Living with Mrs Bordereau is her niece Miss Titus. They are Americans. Both have been out of the country so long they do not feel any more like Americans but for sure they are not Italians. The city of Venice so lovingly described that we long to be there and feel strongly the beauty of the background of this story. The narrator wants the papers he thinks the elderly lady so much that he begins to court the niece with compliments and gifts. The niece herself is far from a young woman. No ages are given but I see the Mrs Bordereau in her 80s or so and the niece late 40s. The narrator wants the documents so bad that he sneaks into room of Mrs Borderau and is caught by her as he is going through her possession in search of the documents. Just a few days after this incident she dies and the narrator feels the shock of catching him may have been the cause. The niece, in a question of the player playing the player, suggests she might give the documents to the narrator if he marries her, something he has no interest in doing. We are shocked when we find out what has really happened to the papers.

Part of the theme of The Aspern Papers is a simple attack on literary biographers (sort of the equivalent to writers for scandal magazines now). It also deals with the very common theme in James of the American living in Europe. It is also about loneliness and lost love and a beautiful city. It is also about relationships between men and women that never advance beyond the "starting gate". It is about the relationship of an artist to his life. I have to say also it is fun to read. It is a fine example of late 19th century fiction and will well repay the time it takes to read it.

I am reading this for The 2010 Reading Themes Challenge. This is a very interesting challenge in that you are ask to "pick your own theme". I picked as my theme "Flaubert and Friends". While in Paris Henry James socialized and dine with Gustave Flaubert and his good friend Ivan Turgenev and others in Flaubert's circle.

Henry James was the brother of the philosopher Williams James. So far I have posted on Indiana by George Sand, a brilliant book on women's rights (among other things) and Pierre et James Guy De Maupassant (James called it a masterpiece) for this theme.

"The Overcoat" by Nikolai Gogol

2010-03-24T17:47:00.001-04:00

"The Overcoat" by Nikolai Gogol

"The Overcoat" by Nikolai Gogol 1842-translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, 1999)-Published in The Collected Tales of Nikolai Gogol-30 pages

After having finished Villette and with some ambitious reading projects coming in April ( Parade's End Read Along, the Read Along of the Brothers Karamazov being hosted by Dolce Bellezzza, and a commitment to post on Zola's Germinal for the Classics Circuit) I decided I would try to read some short odds and ends in the next week or so.

I began to look over my shelves to see what I had on hand that might work. I have seen some very lauding posts on Dead Souls by Nikolai Gogol recently. Vladimir Nabokov is often used as an authority figure on literary excellence. Here is what he says about "The Overcoat" in his Lectures on Russian Literature

Steady Pushkin, matter-of-fact Tolstoy, restrained Chekhov have all had their moments of irrational insight which simultaneously blurred the sentence and disclosed a secret meaning worth the sudden focal shift. But with Gogol this shifting is the very basis of his art, so that whenever he tried to write in the round hand of literary tradition and to treat rational ideas in a logical way, he lost all trace of talent. When, as in the immortal The Overcoat, he really let himself go and pottered on the brink of his private abyss, he became the greatest artist that Russia has yet produced.

Nabokov is very nearly or is in fact saying "The Overcoat" is the best Russian literary work ever produced and by extension the best ever produced at all.

"The Overcoat" is set in St Petersburg (called Petersburg in the story) Russian in the early 1840s. The story centers on minor government clerk, Akaky Akakievich Bashmachkin, a copier of documents. (It is hard for us to relate but there was a vast amount of work to be done in copying government documents in the days before Xerox. Those who did this work were called Scriviners. Melville wrote about them in his incredible story, "Bartleby the Scriviner" and the father in Dickens A Christmas Carol was one.). The work was very boring and thankless. Akaky seems to be in his forty's around, he has no wife or children, no friends, and he lives in a room in a modest boarding house in a run down part of St Petersburg. Gogol does a superb job bringing him fully to life for us in just a few paragraphs. (Akaky if alive today would be sitting in a cubicle working for a giant corporation, doing work he hated for people that had contempt for him.) One very cold day he decides he wants an overcoat, keeping in mind he lives in a horribly cold place where a good coat could mean the difference between life and death. He goes to the shop of a very good tailor near him. As he walks the streets Gogol describes for us the conditions that exist. "The Overcoat" is very attuned to the class differences in Czarist Russia and the economic disparities of the times. Akaky finds out the coat he wants costs an amount equal to about twenty five percent of his annual pay. He has been saving money a little bit at a time for years by eating cheap meals and not really heating his room so he has half of the money saved up. He knows he is getting his annual bonus at work and that will almost cover the cost of the coat. We feel his sense of excitement as he orders the coat and also his fear in spending all his savings on an overcoat. The overcoat is way above the quality of coat a man of his station should have. (It is as if the lowest paid worker at a huge firm came to work in his own private limo, almost). Everyone at his work is in awe of his new overcoat and we must assume under their masks of happiness for him that most are terribly jealous. His supervisor decides to throw a party for him in honor of the new coat. Akaky is not a social person at all and he feels very out of place and awkward at the party. On his way home from the party he is mugged and his coat is stolen. Akaky is given the name of a high ranking general by one of his coworkers and told to go to this man and tell him what happened. The general is a man with a very bloated sense of his imnportance, a strict believer in formalities. Akaky has never been in the presence of such an exalted personage before and he does not know how to act. The general is outraged that Akaky has brought this to him petty matter to his attention rather than to a person way down in the ranks who would possibly refer it up the ladder for review. The general explodes in an enraged diatribe of abuse on Akaky for daring to waste his time and Akaky runs out feeling lucky not to receive a beating. Shortly after this, I imagined it brought on by wandering the streets without a cold in the Russian winter, he catches some sort of illness and shortly after dies. Other than by his land lady clearing out his room he is forgotten. Gogol's account of the items left in Akaky's room are very poignant and at least match anything in Dickens for summing up a life in a few artifacts. His ghost begins to roam the streets, creating a lot of fear among the local population as he steals overcoats from a lot of people. I will tell no more of the plot but the ending is kind of a satisfactory one and revenge of a sort is acheived.

I really liked this story and I do find it difficult to explain its real power. It takes us deeply into the minds of the people we encounter. We know exactly how Akaky feels. He is anyone who has ever tried to deal with a mindless government, to figure out how to live on just enough money to get along barely. "The Overcoat" is a forerunner of "magic realism". There is no one to admire in this tale. It has the humor of a grim, cold, nasty world where your life can be lost over nothing. It is really a vicious attack on society in Russia in the 1840s. There are no noble peasants in this work. There no are reflections on the great ideas of life, no revelations achieved. "The Overcoat" is funny in the asides, the small observations of the self-conscious narrator and in the social satire. In a post on a collection of short stories by Haruki Murakimi I said that I found short stories somehow unsatisfying as they do not construct complete alternative worlds for the reader to enter into. In "The Overcoat" there is a complete world. We know what it is like to walk the streets on the poor side of St Petersburg. We can get inside the mind of the characters in this book. A lot of readers feel the central character is them in a meaningless job in a world without values. Nabokov admired literature that took us out of our comfort zone, that plays with notions of reality, and that has the power to change how we see the world.

Mel u
The Reading Life

The Island of Dr. Moreau by H. G. Wells

2010-03-22T12:57:00.004-04:00

I'm sort of sorry I read this book. I probably should have read The Invisible Man instead, but this one just sort of jumped off the shelf and into my hands. And I am somewhat disturbed by it. This is an extremely weird, disturbing story. I don't know why I was so fixated on reading H. G. Wells, as I hardly ever read science fiction or even much fantasy. Maybe I'm not the right person to review this book.

I will say that this book is very well written and moves very quickly, which you don't always find with the Victorians. The Island of Dr. Moreau begins with a prologue, written by a man who claims that years ago, his uncle was rescued nearly a year after a terrible shipwreck, and has absolutely no memory of that period whatsoever.
The protagonist, Edward Prendick, is rescued from said shipwreck. After drifting for days in a lifeboat, he finds himself on a boat with a nasty drunken captain and a lot of unhappy animals. Prendick was nearly dead and is nursed back to health on board by one of the passengers, Montgomery, who on his way to a remote island with the animals. He's also accompanied by a strange sort of deformed man, but Montgomery is very elusive and won't explain anything. The whole situation is very weird, and Prendick keeps hearing horrible animal screams. The captain hates the whole business, and after a fit of drunken rage, throws Prendick off the boat when it's time to drop off Montgomery. Prendick has no choice but to land on the island with this mysterious bunch until he can find another ship to take him home. Ships rarely stop at the island, so it could be months or even years before he can leave, and things quickly become even stranger.

It turns out this nameless island is the home of Dr. Moreau, who left England in disgrace when it was revealed that he was doing some very odd experiments and surgeries on animals in the name of science. He is a vivisectionist, that is, he's doing experiments on live animals. (Apparently, the English love for animals goes back many years). Apparently, his research has continued on this island. Dr. Moreau is less than thrilled about Prendick's presence but can't very well leave him to die. They allow him to stay as long as he doesn't poke his nose into their business, but of course Prendick realizes there are some pretty horrible things going on, with terrifying results.

H. G. Wells really was an excellent writer. The writing really grabbed me, and after about the first thirty pages, I couldn't put the book down and read most if it in a single sitting. However, it wasn't because I liked it so much as I needed to find out what happened. Here's a great example of the terror that Prendick experiences:

"So long as I live I shall remember the terror of that chase. I ran near the water's edge and heard every now and then the splash of the feet that gained upon me. Far away, hopelessly far, was the yellow light. All the night about us was black and still. Splash, splash came the pursuing feet nearer and nearer. I felt my breath going, for I was quite out of training; it whooped as I drew it, and I felt a pain like a knife at my side. I perceived the Thing would come up with me long before I reached the enclosure, and desperate and sobbing for breath, I wheeled round and struck at it as it came up to me -- struck with all my strength."

Of course H.G. Wells is known as a groundbreaking writer of science fiction. Published in 1896, The Island of Dr. Moreau was his second book, after the extremely popular The War of the Worlds. According the book's introduction [Modern Library edition], H. G. Wells actually studied zoology under T. H. Huxley, who was a disciple of Darwin and believed in both social and biological evolution. I suppose this book is still timely because of all the ethical implications of biomedical research, cloning, and animal rights. To me, it's just sort of creepy and disturbing.

This is book #5 for Our Mutual Read Challenge.

2010-03-21T20:36:00.000-04:00

Monday, March 22, 2010

"Villette" by Charlotte Bronte

Villette by Charlotte Bronte (1853, 656 pages-Vintage Press)

Villette is the story of Lucy Snow who we first meet at age 14 living in the house of her god mother, Mrs Bretton in rural England. Villette is about what happens to her in the next nine years. I tried to check Amazon.com sales ratings on Jane Eyre sales versus Villette without luck but my guess is for every twenty people that reads Jane Eyre, one reads Villette. (Virginia Wolff considered Villette to be Charlotte's master work.) If I were to guess why I would say it is because Villette does not have the powerful romance between the central female character and a man with many layers to his character as we do find in Jane Eyre. I read some goodreads.com posts on then novel after completing it and some did complain that Villette is annoying in its use French in some of the conversations (translation in footnotes or brackets would be nice!) and some found the vocabulary too difficult. I just told myself Tolstoy does the same thing in War and Peace and did not worry overly much about the conversations in French.

I think the quality of much of the writing in Villette is a good bit higher than in Jane Eyre and that is saying a very lot. Villette is narrated by Lucy and she is an unreliable narrator both by her own intentions as well as by the limits of her perceptions and self knowledge. The story is told self consciously as a written story to the reader down to the "dear reader" remarks and Lucy purposely misleads the reader at times as she is embarrassed or reticent to reveals some of her thoughts as she feels they maybe viewed as indecorous.

Lucy has to leave England at a relatively young age because of an unexplained by her family tragedy. She takes ship to France and ends up in Villette. Villette is said to be based on a city in Belgium. Speaking no French Lucy gets a job at boarding school for girls from well off families run by Mrs Beck. I have to say the sections of Villette in Volume One set in Mrs Becks school were just a pure delight to read. Those portions of Villette are for sure better done than anything in Jane Eyre. The school sequences in Villette are to me as least as convincing as the schools in any Dickens novel. The character of Mrs Beck is perfectly done. We see deeply into her through the perceptions of a 20 year old woman looking at woman at least twice as old with much more experience of the world. Lucy starts out working for Mrs Beck as the companion for Mrs Beck young children and later as she learns French is promoted to instructor in the school. Most of the students are from wealthy families and Charlotte Bronte has done a great job making the pupils come to life for us. Some of the students we really like and some are spoiled brats of the worst order!

I loved the chapter of Villette devoted to Lucy's first day in the class room. The students sense she is very nervous and unsure of herself. Some try to be nice but many enjoy the idea of rattling the new teacher (who they know to be of a social class quite below that of themselves). One of the girls seems to be near psychotic and begins to stand up and yell and scream at Lucy challenging her in every way. I laughed out loud when I saw how Lucy handled her ( I do not want to say what happened as it is just so much fun). Lucy grows about a foot taller that day!

Life goes on in the school and we get to know some of the other teachers, maids, cooks, a local doctor and even some of the parents of the children. One of the fathers of a student sees what a good teacher and person Lucy is after his daughter tells him all about her that he offers her three times her current salary to become the private tutor of his daughter at his grand estate. The power of the ethics and depth of personality of Lucy come through when she explains why she feels she must remain at the school.

As Volume Two (there are three volumes) of the book opens we enter a new phase of Lucy's life. The plot does begin to take some perhaps convoluted turns. A Gothic element is introduced in the form of a mysterious nun who may be either an apparition or the result of a minor break down on the part of Lucy. The suggestion is that the nun may be either a real ghost returned from the grave or a projection of the repressed sexuality awaking in the psyche of Lucy. Lucy has two romantic interests though it takes her a long time to figure things out and it seems to me she may have made the wrong choose and not know it (yet-she is only 23 when the novel ends). I do not want to reveal to much of the plot and the love stories as it is fun to see them develop. I do think Bronte has increased the depth of her portrayals of characters since her first novel, Jane Eyre, especially of the female characters. In terms of male characters, the characters of Lucy's loves are sketched in a very subtle fashion. One of the powers of the use of Lucy as unreliable narrator is it forces the reader to see others through her perceptions and work from there to the reality of others in the novel. The characterization of the men in Villette seems more subtle than that in Jane Eyre but many will long for a powerful male lead and not find it here. Jane Eyre is more an action packed novel than Villette. An awful lot of Villette is taken up with very exacting observations on small events around the school. To me these portions of Villette were a pure joy to read and flawless in every way. Lucy Snow is a good English Protestant and she is not comfortable in the Catholic atmosphere of the school and France. I do not, others disagree, see this as anti-Catholic rhetoric, it is just the perceptions of a woman with really very little experience of the world who sees Catholics as exotic near pagans!. Her prejudice to me comes across as more amusing and I sense no hate in her attitude and I can see her out growing it.

I am sure that portions of Villette are truly great. As to the question is it better than Jane Eyre, I really think any one seriously interested in the Brontes, the Victorian Novel, women writers or just a lover of quality novels owes to themselves to read all seven of the Bronte novels, at the most around 3000 pages.

I think I need to reflect a bit more about the device of the mysterious nun in Villette. Sometimes the nun seemed like a contrived plot element to add excitement to the book (Gothic novels very big at the time) and I am not sure I totally liked as a plot device what the nun in fact turned out to be. I have three more Bronte novels to go in my personal challenge to read all of novels in 2010. I will next plunge into what many say is the deepest part of the Bronte Ocean, Wuthering Heights
Mel u
The Reading Life

The Warden - Anthony Trollope

2010-03-14T11:59:00.000-04:00

It appears that people have Opinions about Trollope, especially about which Trollope a Trollope-virgin should Trollope with first (keyboard appears stuck on 'Trollope'). The consensii seemed to be one of The Warden, The Way We Live Now, and Can You Forgive Her? That last sounds deliciously salacious, but I went with the fairly short The Warden to start, due to my debilitating laziness.

Laziness, you have been rewarded! The Warden is fantastic and sweet and a bit sad. Also, and I know that this is basting the turkey with Obvious Sauce, it is ridiculously Victorian. Because Septimus Harding is the warden of a hospital and the precentor of a cathedral and what are these things?

Ok, I am still in the dark precentor-wise because Wikipedia is Too Much Work, but the warden of the hospital (which is not a 'hospital' like you're thinking, but more like an old-man charity house) is the guy who looks after the old mens. This is a bit complicated, but bear with me. A Benevolent Benefactor long ago set up said hospital along with a steady income. The income goes to maintain the hospital and feed the old mens, and whatever is left over goes to the warden. For reasons I don't understand (because I do not Get Economics), the income got bigger and suddenly the warden is making piles of money just for hanging out with some old mens.

Which, fine. Except that some young reformer is all, NAY! Such injustice shall NOT go unprodded! And he starts prodding into what the Benevolent Benefactor's will actually stipulates and whether more of teh moneys should go to the old mens and whether the warden is living off of ill-gotten gains and then the warden starts wondering if he is living off of ill-gotten gains and did I mention that the young reformer and the warden's daughter ARE IN LOVE!?!?! Conflict!!

So the warden is trying to figure out if he's doing a bad thing and the reformer is trying to figure out how to maintain the good opinion of his lady-love while prosecuting the hell out of her papa and the warden's son-in-law is trying to strong-arm the warden into standing up for his rights and then the press gets involved and everyone is quite overwrought.

And that's sort of the whole of it. It is super.

Cross-posted at books i done read.

Drood by Dan Simmons

2010-03-14T06:57:00.002-04:00

I think I liked the idea of this book more than the book itself. A gothic mystery/horror story set in Victorian London, featuring Charles Dickens and narrated by Wilkie Collins sounded like exactly the kind of book I would enjoy. Unfortunately it didn't quite live up to its fascinating premise and I was left with mixed feelings about it.

Drood is told in the form of a memoir written by Wilkie Collins (a close friend and collaborator of Charles Dickens, as well as being the author of The Woman in White, The Moonstone and many other novels and plays) and addressed to an unknown reader in the future – that is, to us.

The story begins with the Staplehurst Rail Disaster of 1865, when the train on which Charles Dickens is travelling crashes, sending most of the carriages plummeting over a viaduct into the riverbed below. Luckily Dickens is in one of the few carriages that doesn't fall. As he helps to rescue people from the wreckage, he encounters a mysterious figure dressed in a black cape who introduces himself only as 'Drood'. In the days following the train crash, Dickens becomes obsessed with finding Drood and discovering his true identity. With the reluctant help of Wilkie Collins, Dickens begins a search for Drood which leads them through the dark alleys and underground catacombs of London.

Interspersed with the Drood storyline are long passages in which we learn about the family life and living arrangements of both Dickens and Collins, how much they earned for their various novels, their walking tour of Cumberland in 1857, the details of Wilkie's laudanum addiction, the story of the Swiss chalet given to Dickens by his friend Charles Fechter, Dickens' interest in mesmerism and every other piece of biographical information you could possibly want to know. Simmons also incorporates some genuine historical letters and quotes which adds some authenticity to the book. I can see why some readers might find this boring, but I enjoyed these sections – I thought the descriptions of Dickens' reading tours were particularly fascinating.

Simmons has attempted to imitate Wilkie Collins' narrative style (including the Victorian habit of talking directly to the reader) but I felt that he didn't get it quite right. He also uses a lot of words and phrases that just sound either too modern or too American to me (the real Collins or Dickens would have walked on the pavement rather than the sidewalk, for example). This is only a small complaint though, as overall, Dear Reader, I thought his style was quite convincing.

I do like the way the book takes us through the process of researching and writing The Moonstone. However, some important plot points are given away so if you haven’t already read The Moonstone and think you might want to, then I would suggest you read it before you begin Drood. It might also be a good idea to read The Mystery of Edwin Drood first (I didn't and kept wishing I had). Another thing I liked about the book was the way Simmons deliberately tries to confuse and mislead the reader - at several points in the novel we are made to wonder whether something we've just read is real or an illusion.

This journey through the cemeteries, opium dens and underground sewers of London is a good atmospheric read for a cold dark night, but I was slightly disappointed by it and despite reading all 775 pages I still can't decide whether I enjoyed it or not! However, it will almost certainly leave you wanting to learn more about Dickens and Collins and their works, which can only be a good thing. If you like this type of book I would also recommend The Quincunx by Charles Palliser - another book set in Victorian England and written in a 19th century style.

Before I come to the end of this review I would just like to say a few words in defence of poor Wilkie Collins, who happens to be one of my favourite authors. Simmons clearly doesn't rate Wilkie as a writer (I saw an interview where he described him as 'mediocre') and in Drood, the character is portrayed as a not very talented, second-rate author who is consumed with jealousy of the more successful Dickens and becomes increasingly bitter and unlikeable as the book goes on. I admit I'm biased because I've absolutely loved every Wilkie Collins book I've read; he was a much better writer than Drood suggests and definitely not mediocre, at least in my opinion!

*Pictures of Charles Dickens (top) and Wilkie Collins (bottom) both in the public domain

Helen Loves Books

"The Tenant of Wildfell Hall" by Anne Bronte

2010-03-12T19:36:00.002-05:00

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte (1848-409 pages)

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is the second and last novel written by Anne Bronte in her twenty nine years (1820 to 1849).    Last month I read and posted on her first work, Agnes Grey.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is told in a very interesting way.    It is a novel very rooted in its time and place.    The book is divided into three sections and each is told from a different point of view and narrated in a different fashion. Part One is from the point of view of Gilbert, a well off farmer. A mysterious woman, a widow and her son, have moved into Wildfell Hall, a once grand mansion.    Gilbert begins to court the widow, Helen Graham and loses interest in the woman his mother wanted him to marry. In a search for revenge, this woman begins to spread gossip about Helen. One needs to keep in mind that in the time and place of the novel a woman was not thought complete without a man and any single woman, widow or otherwise, above the age of twenty five or so was seen as a potential threat to the stability of the community and its morals.    A friend of Gilbert's is also seemingly courting Helen. When Gilbert behaves in a jealous fashion, Helen gives Gilbert her diaries to read. The diary reveals her abusive marriage to Arthur Huntington.    Helen begins the marriage completely in love. Over time Arthur seems to become bored with her company and prefers to spend his time with friends from his days prior to marriage. These friends lead him back into a life of heavy drinking and partying with women of dubious repute in the company of male friends. He becomes abusive to her and he tries to turn her son to his ways, teaching him to disrespect his mother and use improper language. In a move of extreme boldness for her day, Helen left Arthur.    There some interesting twists and turns of the plot and throughout it all Helen behaves in a near saintly fashion, returning to her abusive husband to nurse him through a fatal disease.

Part 3 begins when Helen leaves Wildfell Hall. We see Anne has kept some secrets from us. The ending is much like the ending of Agnes Grey.

I liked several things about this book. I liked Anne Bronte's use of differing narrative modes for different sections of the book.    I enjoyed the conversations in the book a lot.    Wildfell Hall shows Anne was rapidly developing as an artist, compared with her first work.    Wildfell Hall is one of the first novels showing a woman leaving an abusive husband. The abusive husband is a bit of a stereotype of the times (hence the name Huntington meaning he prefers the pleasure of the hunt to the company of his wife).    You can see how deeply Anne felt alcohol was at the root of the problems in her marriage. She was very unhappy when her husband began to teach their son to drink.    The novel is rooted in the time as there is no longer any great mysterious stigma that attached to a single woman with a child as there was in England in the 1840s. (Or perhaps one should say a single woman not of the poorer and majority class of people.) The world of women is a small one in the novels of Anne Bronte. She explores its limits very well.
I read Wildfell Hall in part because I have decided to read all of the novels of the Bronte Sisters. There are only seven of them and I like feeling closure on a reading project.    As I was reading I could not help but wonder if almost everyone reads her works mainly because of who her ates were . ("Ate" is a tagalog word for "big sister" that conveys for me the familial relationship between Anne and her sisters.    A young sister or brother will call their older sibling "Ate Jane" and it is meant to convey respect for an elder sister.) Wildfell Hall is worth reading on its own.    Her work does not have the power, depth and beauty of the work of her ates but not much does.    I really thing anyone into the Brontes, the Victorian novel or 19th century women writers should read all of the Bronte novels.

Mel u
The Reading Life

Alice in Wonderland (2010)

2010-03-10T10:42:00.004-05:00

click on poster for link to trailer

Corey and I had a date night tonight to go see the new Alice in Wonderland movie. We saw in 3D. Alice is 19 years old and has dreams about the happenings of the original movies....

My thoughts are....... that it was just okay. We will not be taking the kids to see it at the theater. First and foremost, I think they would be bored. The beginning is very slow to get going and the plot would kind of be over their heads I think with her being rebellious about corsets and stockings, and then attending a party that turns out to be her engagement party. That doesn't ruin the plot I don't think. She eventually chases after the white rabbit and falls in the rabbit hole...etc., etc.

It was very much like the movies I have seen before..just different looking. The plot is a little different but several of the same things happen, but with less "childishness" about them.

My conclusion is that...it wasn't serious and deep enough to make it very interesting for adults, but it wasn't childish and silly enough to make it fully appropriate for children either. The gruesome aspects (stepping on human heads to cross a moat, monster eyes being plucked out by straight pins) make it just too much for little kids, so then the lack of more makes it slightly too simple for adults. I think it should have gone one more step one way or the other.

It does look very interesting and beautiful. The 3D affects are great. There are some really funny parts with the Red Queen when she goes on her tirades, but I don't think kids would "get it." The March Hare is pretty funny. The Mad Hatter is typical of what you would expect with Johnny Depp playing that part. The White Queen is whimsical. There is a good message of good conquering evil and the Red Queen's demise. I even picked up on some easy to make comparisons between the overall story/characters/storyline and Christianity.

Overall...if I were rating on a scale of 1-10 with 1 being Mystery Science Theater level and 10 being like Epic Life Changing Films...I would give it a ....... 6. I would watch it again maybe, the story is good because the story was already good, but it will be hard to find the just right age for our kids so we can watch it together as a family. Better versions of this movie have already been made, in my opinion the Disney one is the best because it makes me laugh a lot! Even though they said it is not supposed to be "the original movie" it kind of is. A good version, but disappointed because it could have been so much better. I think the fault lies with whoever wrote the screenplay.
This movie completes my Victorian Film Mini-Movie Challenge. I didn't even realize it until I was posting on my other blog and saw the list of what I had already completed. Although most of this film is NOT set in the regular Victorian setting, it is for part of the time and the essence is there, even in Wonderland, or "Underland" as it is called in this film.

The Turn of the Screw - Henry James

2010-03-08T11:26:00.000-05:00

Ok so, I read this a long time ago before I understood things like 'subtlety' and I was all, What? This isn't scary. Those ghosts probably aren't even real.

But now ACK! Those ghosts probably aren't even real!!!

So a bunch of people are sitting around telling ghost stories over Christmas (you know, as one does) and this one guy is all, I have a story that will chill you! But it's at home and I have to send for it, so you can all go ahead and wait. And that's how tenterhooks were born.

The story finally arrives and he reads it and its this governess who takes a position looking after two wee chillens who are beautiful and perfect and good and innocent (which is sort of freaky on its own, no?) except that maybe they are communicating with and/or possessed by some wicked ghosts. Because the governess keeps seeing said ghosts, who are apparently the valet and the previous governess (who got knocked up by said valet and drowned herself in the lake [allegedly]), and they appear to be trying to get the children. Except that whenever the ghosts appear, the children make a POINT of REALLY DELIBERATELY not seeing them, even though the governess is sure they do. It's pretty sinister.

But then also maybe the children really don't see the ghosts because there are no ghosts because the governess is going mad? Because maybe they make a point of really deliberately not seeing them because they actually don't see them because they aren't there?!?!? And the housekeeper doesn't seem them, even when they're right there but maybe she just doesn't have that ability? And I realize that I'm not making this sound very scary and loads of people read TotS and don't stay up nights but few things terrify my shit more than ambiguity. Except maybe sharks.

I also feel like I should shoot you a disclaimer here and let you know that James is a mad over-commafier and no one thought to pelt him with periods, so his sentences get rull long and Victorian. Not like Lisa Appignanesi's do, to the point where you totally lose track of where the sentence started, but enough to exhaust the old temporal lobe. But I find him Worth It.

Cross-posted at books i done read.

2010-03-08T10:44:00.002-05:00

Montmorency is a thief. A common criminal, doing time in one of Victorian London's notorious prison in 1875. But what makes him a different than many criminals is that he's very smart, and that he is lucky enough to have a benefactor of sorts -- a brilliant doctor who saved his life. While fleeing the police after a robbery attempt, Montmorency he crashed through a factory skylight and landed on an enormous machine, and would have died from his injuries if an ambitious young doctor hadn't wanted to use him as a test case. A year after his accident, following multiple painful surgeries, the thief who is known as Montmorency (an alias he has adopted, from the name on the bag of tools he was clutching as he fell) is routinely trotted out for meetings of the Victorian scientific community. He's prodded and poked like a laboratory animal, while the upper-crusties are treating him like some kind of rare zoo exhibit, Montmorency, a bright young man with an excellent memory, is actually studying them, and storing away all sorts of useful information. He's not stealing valuables items any more -- just valuable ideas.

After one such exhibition, Montmorency absorbs up a very interesting piece of information: a map of the newly renovated London sewer system. Montmorency realizes that this would be the perfect escape route for a thief, and for the rest of his incarceration, he begins planning. He will use his burglary skills and newfound knowledge to reinvent himself as a gentleman.

I really enjoyed this book. Of course, I'm currently fascinated by the Victorian period, but this book was both well-written historical novel and an exciting adventure/crime story. Though I personally would never have the nerve to burglarize, it's fun to imagine -- I do love heist movies and crime capers, so there you go. I think Upland did a good job imagining any plot holes and figuring out plausible explanations as to how Montmorency is able to pull off a double life as a Victorian gentleman (a trick in itself) and a thief that spends his nights in the slimy sewers of London without getting caught. He does encounter all kinds of setbacks and dangers.

I do wish that Updale had given more details about the actual burglaries -- once it's established that he's a thief, she doesn't give many examples of the crimes, just the fact that he's a burglar. Also, she doesn't flesh out too much of his character -- Montmorency is so busy trying to reinvent himself, yet the reader learns next to nothing about his history, not even his real name. A little more detail would have been great. Since this is the first in the series of four, I suspect the reader will get more information in the later volumes.

While I do recommend Montmorency, I have to point out that there is extensive discussion, especially in the beginning, about the filth of the London sewer system and everything that's in there -- and fairly explicit descriptions of the sanitation systems of Victorian prisons. If you have a weak stomach, you might want to skim those chapters. I like to read while I eat, but I would not recommend this book for mealtime reading until you get past about Chapter 13.

It's short, only 233 pages, and a fast read. This volume of the Montmorency series is also available on audiobook, narrated by the wonderful Stephen Fry (aka Wooster from PBS' Jeeves & Wooster). I've already put Monmorency Book #2 on hold at the library. Sadly, though there are several copies of the first book in my library system (which has 24 branches) they only own one of each of the remaining books in the series. It's too bad this book isn't more popular. Maybe if all the teens read it, they'll get hooked on Victorians and we'll have a whole new generation of lit lovers.

This is book #4 for Our Mutual Read challenge.

Hannah Craft's The Bondwoman's Narrative (1853-61)

2010-03-04T15:58:00.002-05:00

In some ways, this reminds me of Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky which is another instance in which the story behind a book is just as interesting as the book itself. My first online search for information about The Bondwoman's Narrative pulled up not information about the narrative itself, but an outline of events about Henry Louis Gates Jr's discovery and analysis of the manuscript, the proposed theories surrounding its authorship by Hannah Crafts (a pseudonym), and its journey to publication. Which admittedly is fascinating. I'd been unsure whether to include this Virago Modern Classic in this month's reading, but the story behind the story cinched the deal for me.

As fascinating as it is, however, I became more interested in the story behind the story and almost forgot about the narrative itself; there are about a hundred pages of text before the novel begins and the introduction is engaging, but in its efforts to illuminate the various possible identities for Hannah Crafts, much of the story's plot is revealed along with abundant information about the actions of the characters therein.

I would have preferred the introduction be presented as an appendix (but this is a pet peeve of mine, being so spoiler-phobic, and simultaneously being an orderly reader who would prefer to begin at the beginning and read straight through); but, the appendices are filled with their own interesting information (e.g. detailed description of how the manuscript was authenticated) so there wasn't much room there for more, I'd guess. So I read about 20 pages of the Introduction and then I jumped ahead to read the novel, and I jumped back to the Introduction when I had finished Hannah Craft's novel.

butButBUT...the backstory is gripping and vital, contextually, to a more complete understanding of The Bondwoman's Narrative, so I am not actually complaining about this (even if it kinda sounds that way). Here's the thing though: forget about all the history behind it for a second...The Bondwoman's Narrative is a gripping tale.

Apparently the author was heavily influenced by books like Bleak House and Jane Eyre (I've only read Jane Eyre of those two, but I'm not sure I would have spotted the connections, although scholars have pointed out many direct similarities between TBW'sN and these two texts) and there are all kinds of creepy and dramatic events that pull the reader into the story.

A hatchet with hair still stuck to the heft, trees haunted by spirits still furious at their unjust treatment while alive, women driven mad, conniving business dealings (and, yes, this includes the business of human trade): this is not a dry, historical narrative, but a fantastic yarn. Nonetheless, a yarn with considerable import. As potentially the first known novel written by an African American woman, this novel is significant for being one of few of that time period that took the author's race as the norm.

Unlike other narratives of that time period, which were sometimes even written under pseudonyms by white women pretending to write an "escape-from-slavery" chronicle (true abolitionists or simply opportunists who envied Harriet Beecher Stowe's incredible success with her 1852 novel Uncle Tom's Cabin), the black characters in The Bondwoman's Narrative are never described in stereotypical terms and the presumption is that characters are black, unless otherwise described.

This is the exception rather than the rule for manuscripts dating to this time period, so it's certainly possible to read this novel for scholarly reasons, but too much emphasis on its importance might discourage readers who, if they just approached this as a 19th-Century Sentimental novel, might just find it a good read. Surely a book can be both: important and enjoyable.

Anyone else read something lately that they were surprised to find themselves truly enjoying, even though they might have originally chosen the book because it was culturally or historically significant?

Affinity - Sarah Waters

2010-03-01T19:43:00.002-05:00

I am running out of cliches to express how much Sarah Waters rocks me like a hurricane. Seriously. She is amazeballs. When she is good, she is very, very good and when she is bad, she is still pretty damned good. Admit it, The Night Watch only kind of sucked because it wasn't Fingersmith.

And to be fair, Affinity? Also not Fingersmith. Ok but come on, you guys. SPIRIT MEDIUMS and SECRETS and spinster ladies who are recovering from the deaths of their fathers and then also something else horrible that they're not telling you about and also VICTORIAN LADY PRISONS. You would like read.

Ok so. Margaret is a spinster lady who is visiting women in prison because that is the sort of benevolent thing ladies did in those days, to guide them in the ways of not being felons, and also so that the benevolent ladies didn't go stark raving mad while living at home with their mothers and being spinsters. Also, something horrible happened to her and no one is talking about it but everyone is mentioning it obliquely and glancing significantly at everyone else. Prepare to feel out of the loop.

But then Margaret meets Selina, prisoner-slash-spirit-medium, and if you are at all familiar with La Waters you will be all I SEE YOU COMING, LADY ROMANCE! And if you are not, well, you have eyes. And I really want other things to have happened so that I can delineate them for you, but for the rest of the novel Margaret goes to visit Selina in prison and that is sort of it for many, many pages then something Fairly Unexpected happens at the end. So.

And it is awesome and atmsopheric and there may or may not be spooks. Waters can toss a word salad like she was born to it. I...literally have nothing else to say about this novel. I'm going to start just putting 'ditto' for all of my Waters reviews.

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

2010-02-27T22:09:00.001-05:00

"Please, sir, I want some more." More Dickens, that is!

After finishing David Copperfield last year, I was a little worn out on Dickens. Okay, let's be honest -- it was a Dickens OD! In twelve months, I had completed five major works, four of which were more than 800 pages. That's. A lot. Of. Dickens. Anyway, after a break, I returned to my online Dickens group, which recently decided to start reading the books in order of publication. Though I'd read Oliver Twist just a couple of years ago, I enjoyed it just as much the second time around.

For those of you who are not familiar with the basic plot, here it is in a nutshell: Poor Oliver Twist is born in the workhouse to a mysterious woman who dies in childbirth. After nine years in a wretched orphanage, he's sent to the back to the workhouse to start earning a living, and one fateful day, he has the nerve to request a second helping of food: "Please sir, I want some more." After even more mistreatment, Oliver runs away from an apprenticeship and makes his way to London. En route he meets up with a boy nicknamed the Artful Dodger. Oliver, grateful for food and guidance, unwittingly follows the Dodger and joins a band of thieves run by the malevolent Fagin, who is in league with the evil Bill Sikes. But will Oliver's inherent goodness prevent him from falling under their evil influence? Will Oliver fall into a downward spiral and a life of crime, like so many other poor children?

More than anything, I think Dickens' strength is his ability to create fantastic, cliff-hanging plots and memorable characters. It was twenty years between my first and second readings of Great Expectations, yet I vividly remembered Pip, Joe, and the creepy Miss Havisham. Every Dickens work I have read includes several memorable characters -- it would take too long to list them all here. But I think everyone has heard of poor little Oliver begging for more gruel; the Artful Dodger, and of course the sinister Fagin. Honestly, Dickens writes the best villians in Victorian literature (with apologies to all you Wilkie Collins fans); maybe even the best villains ever. Bill Sikes? Madame LeFarge? Mr. Tulkinghorn? Completely evil, completely memorable. To read Dickens is to remember it forever, in my humble opinion.

So those are Dickens' strong points. Other points: It's true, Dickens wrote his works as serials, so they tend to be long (OT is one of the shorter works, 430 pages of actual text in my edition; the rest is explanatory notes and introduction). Yes, he does include improbable coincidences, and some of his sentences tend to be long and flowery. But he creates such amazing plots, such indelible characters, and you can't beat the satire. Here's an description of the food in the workhouse:

[The workhouse board] contracted with the water-works to lay on an unlimited supply of water; and with a corn-factor to supply periodically small quantities of oatmeal; and issued three meals of thin gruel a day, with an onion twice a week, and half a roll on Sundays. . . . For the first six months after Oliver Twist was removed, the system was in full operation. It was rather expensive at first, in consequence of the increase in the undertaker's bill, and the necessity of taking in the clothes of all the paupers, which fluttered loosely on their wasted, shrunken forms, afer a week or two's gruel. But the number of workhouse inmates got thin as well as the paupers; and the board were in ecstasies.

I must also admit that Oliver, the character, is sometimes really annoying -- he is so perfect, so sweet, that I sometimes get a little nauseated. I do find that Dickens' good characters tend to be on the bland side, not nearly as well-developed as the villains. And I'm sure some readers may also put off by the blatant anti-Semitism in the novel. Fagin, a grotesque, devilish villain, is referred to over and over again as "the Jew," which is definitely off-putting. I'm not sure if Dickens was simply of product of his times, or if he was truly anti-Semitic; but like many excellent works of literature, I don't think Oliver Twist should be ignored entirely because of only one of its elements. I have heard that Dickens later regretted his terrible portrayal, and tried to atone for it somewhat by creating a much more admirable Jewish character in one of his later novels, Our Mutual Friend.

Currently, I've read about half of Dickens' major works, and I hope to complete two or three more by the end of the year. I belong to a great online Dickens discussion group, The Inimitable Boz, and if I assume correctly the next two books are The Old Curiosity Shop and Barnaby Rudge. I'm pretty excited about these as they are among the less popular works and I know so little about them.

So share with me, bloggers! Do you have a favorite Dickens? Is Bill Sikes the scariest villain ever? Is Oliver a sweet boy or just really annoying? I'd love to hear your opinons.

This counts as my third book for Our Mutual Read Challenge. This review is also posted on my blog, Books and Chocolate.

George Eliot's Romola

2010-02-24T11:58:00.001-05:00

George Eliot's Romola (1862-63) is an historical novel, set in late 15th-century Florence. One of her most popular and respected in the 19th century, it is now one of her least read works. It is excellent, but its conclusion rather strange - and one I'm not sure I completely understand.

I posted three times on my blog about this book - once for each volume, for which the links are below. Be warned that my posts on the second and third volumes contain significant plot spoilers.

Posts on Romola at Bookphilia.com:

Volume One
Volume Two
Volume Three

Also, these posts are very long. :-P

"Pierre Et Jean" by Guy De Maupassant

2010-02-23T19:15:00.000-05:00

"Pierre Et Jean" by Guy De Maupassant

Pierre Et Jean by Guy De Maupassant ( 1888, translated by Julie Mead with an introduction by Robert Lethbridge, 2001, 129 pages, Oxford World Classics)

Guy De Maupassant (1850 to 1893) was an very successful and highly productive writer. He wrote six short novels, over 200 short stories and a vast amount of journalism. He is often called a father of the modern short story. He was a protege of Gustav Flaubert. Guy De Maupassant made a very good amount of money from his writings. He served in the Franco-Prussian War in 1870. For ten years after the war he was a civil service clerk. Flaubert, who knew his mother, encouraged him to pursue his literary interests. One of his first short stories, about a prostitute during the Franco-Prussian war was proclaimed a masterpiece by Flaubert and was hugely popular. From the success of this De Maupassant began a career as a professional writer. Through Flaubert he became friends with Zola and Turgenev. Henry James considered Pierre Et Jean a small masterpiece both for its style and for the great psychological depth shown in the work.

In both George Sand's Indiana and in Pierre Et Jean we can see the authors have given serious reflection on the methods of narrating a story. I take this to be at least in part the result of the influence of Flaubert. We can see Sand struggle with this issue in the first half of Indiana. De Maupassant in his marvelous preface to Pierre Et Jean reflects on what he feels the role of the literary artist should be in the face of the demands of the reading public:

In short the reading public is made up of many groups crying out to us 'Console me', 'Amuse me', 'Make me sad', 'Make me dream', 'Make me laugh', 'Make me shudder', 'Make my cry', 'Make me think'. Only a few minds ask the artist: 'create something beautiful in the form that best suits you and according to your own temperament'

Pierre Et Jean is considered the best of his six novels.    The plot is straightforward. Pierre and Jean are two brothers, both in their twenties.    One has recently graduated from medical school and one from law school. Their parents are of the middle class and are proud of both of their sons, as who would not be.    It gives us one of the best looks at sibling rivalry I have ever seen in a novel.    (In this it compares well to The Brothers Karamazov)   The brothers have a cordial relationship but their are undercurrents of resentment based on perceptions on each of the brother's parts that their parents preferred the other.    One day the younger brother Jean, the attorney, inherits a fortune large enough to keep him in comfort for the rest of his life from an old family friend.    Pierre, the doctor, who had always thought that the family friend liked him just as much as he did Jean.   The friend was a single man the age of their parents with no children of his own.   Pierre is stunned by this and can at first see no reason for this preference.   He begins to obsessively think about why this happened as he is driven to know why the family friend ignored him.   We see growing feelings of resent in Pierre and we see Jean, who was always somehow in the shadow of his older brother, begin to look down on those around him not in his economic class.   We also get a great look at relationships of the brothers parents to each other and to the brothers.   Pierre Et James provides us with a brilliant look at a family whose children are no longer children but still somehow less than full adults.   We also along the way see how the fishing industry in France worked and we enjoy the brothers love of sport fishing. We go along as the older brother goes out on the town to places his parents would not care to know about.   One of the most interesting bits of knowledge conveyed in the books was an account of the economics of life as a cruise ship doctor in the 1880.   There is a beautiful (if there can be beauty is such a thing) description of the steerage area of the cruise ship that is as vivid as anything in Dickens.   In that short passage De Maupassant shows he need not take a lower berth to his friend Zola in depicting the life of the poor.

Pierre eventually discovers why his younger brother received the inheritance. What he learns is crushing and has still the power to shock us.    Pierre Et James is considered a kind of transitional work in late 19th century fiction.    I really enjoyed this book.   It is a near perfect example of the art of the short novel.

De Maupassant lead an interesting if short life (43 years).   One bit of trivia I found very interesting was the fact that he once saved the English poet Charles Swinburne from drowning.    You can see for sure the influence of Flaubert in this story in its minute observations and its efforts to particularize people and in the narrative mode.    The introduction to the book by Robert Lethbridge gives us useful cultural background on the novel.    The second half of the introduction does contain spoilers and I read it after I finished the book and suggest others do the same.    I think Oxford World Classic paper backs normally have very good introductions and the production quality is high and the print is not too small.   I have mentioned this before but I think any one interested in the 19th century novel would enjoy Flaubert: A Biography by Frederick Brown. The prose in the translation is beautiful

Mel u
The Reading Life

Victorianesque YA detective fiction! Y.S. Lee's A Spy in the House

2010-02-22T12:16:00.000-05:00

I will straight away make two things clear. First, I know the author of A Spy in the House; we went to the same uni for our PhDs, only she fled the academy with much more panache than I did. Clearly. See photo to right.

Second, she neither gave me this book nor asked me to review it. I bought it from the UK where it was released a fair bit earlier than it was in North America.

These two things out of the way, you may think you know where my fears and biases lay. Not so. First, I was terrified of reading this book because it was penned by someone I like immensely and I didn't know what I'd do if I didn't like her book. Yet, I knew I would like her book because of the hilarious and awesome tidbits she used to drop about Victorian lit when we shared an office. Nonetheless, it took me approximately 6 months to work up the courage to read it.

But where my bigger, much bigger, fear about this book lay actually had nothing to do with my knowing the author. It had to do with the fact that I've read only one other book of a similar genre, i.e., Victorianesque YA - Philip Pullman's The Ruby in the Smoke. I thought The Ruby in the Smoke was utter shite. I couldn't believe that the same guy who wrote the His Dark Materials trilogy and Clockwork and I Was a Rat! could write that. And yet he did, and so my thinking went something like "Dear gawd, if Pullman can't do it, no one can!!!" Mind, reading The Scarecrow and His Servant helped me get over my irrational belief in Pullman's literary invincibility...

It turns out.that my anxiety was entirely wasted, for A Spy in the House is an extremely enjoyable book. I found it to be so enjoyable, in fact, that I did absolutely no work on Friday because I was reading it and couldn't put it down. The novel tells the story of Mary Quinn, a young girl rescued from being hanged by the neck until dead for theft at the age of 12, and how she's brought up in a girl's school designed to teach young women to learn to fend for themselves in a world in which women have remarkably few options. Mary, after 5 years in the school, is recruited into the Agency, which is an all female spy group. Their effectiveness lies in the fact that they can go into others' homes as governesses, ladies' companions, etc and find sensitive information that wouldn't be as likely to be dropped in front of a male spy, who would excite more suspicion. This novel - the first of a trilogy! - tells about Mary's first assignment.

A Spy in the House is a sort of classic detective story but one of the things that I love about it is that Lee also makes fun of, and upsets in various other ways, the very detective novel tropes she uses. So besides being a page turner in the gigantic ball of yarn way I so enjoy, A Spy in the House is also smart and funny and, because of Lee's knowledge of the darker sides of English Victorian history, by turns disturbing for reasons beyond the mystery itself. I'm really looking forward to the second book, which is due to be released in August.

Indiana by George Sand

2010-02-21T18:32:00.001-05:00

Indiana by George Sand (1832, Translated from French by Sylvia Raphael, 271 pages, Oxford World Classics, with introduction by Naomi Schor)

Indiana was George Sand's (Amandine Aurore Dupin) first novel written without a collaborator. Sand is now much more known about than read. She was the daughter of a countess and was the wife of a Baron. She dressed largely in the clothing of men of her class, had affairs and relationships with numerous literary, artistic and musical figures. Her most famous romance was with Frederic Chopin. In a marvelous coincidence just as I completed Indiana the movie Impromptu based on the romance of Chopin and Sand was show on Sky Cable here in Manila. The movie is a comedy of sorts but it was a lot of fun to see Sand on screen. There are unverified to this day rumors of romantic relationships with other women also.

Indiana is set partially in Paris and partially on Reunion Island, a French possession (now legally part of France and in 1832 known as Bourbon Island) in the Indian Ocean about four hundred miles east of Madagascar. The island was populated by African Slaves, Chinese, Malays, and French Emigrants. It is a small island under 1000 square miles. In the 1830s it was important as a stopping off point for ships going from India to Europe. I was very interested to see the treatment and view of French people born on the island was very much like the view of English people born on Jamaica held by native Englishmen as seen in Wide Sargasso Sea. They were called creoles and the suggestion throughout Indiana is that creoles were more given to excesses than native Frenchmen and women. There also is an undercurrent in this book that creole women are some how more passionate than European French women and further part of the attraction of island life for the men is the ready access to women of color.

There are six central characters in Indiana. Indiana is an attractive creole woman married by arrangement to a much older man, Colonel Delmare, a retired army officer. Indiana's cousin Ralph, close to her age, has been in love with her since they were children. He was married to Noun, a maid of Indiana who became like a sister to her. In a smaller role is the mother of Ralph. Indiana has a lot of themes. One of the strongest themes is a protest against the marriage laws of France which made a wife a virtual slave of her husband. Sand in her narrative voice makes some very powerful for the time (and now) statements for the rights of women and the alteration of marriage laws. Indiana is also about slavery which was practiced on Reunion Island as part of the sugar plantations. Again there are strong ties here with the world of Jamaica in the setting of Wide Sargasso Sea. Sugar plantations needed slaves to be profitable. There are a lot of dramatic (some one say over dramatic scenes) in Indiana, lots of passionate speeches and narrative theorizing and social commentary.

Indiana was my first George Sand. You can see it is a first novel as it is told in a self conscious fashion as if Sand were struggling with how to narrate the novel aside from going into a "dear readers let me tell you what happens next mode". For about the first half of the novel I was enjoying it and it was very interesting to me to read about life on the Island and see how Sand was using the novel as a vehicle for her ideas on women, marriage, and slavery. Then as I passed the mid-point of the novel some how I did begin to see it as work of real brilliance. I am not sure if it is because Sand was learning as she was writing or if it was me learning how to read Sand. There are passages in the second half of the novel that are simply amazing. George Sand, it appears to me from quick research, never went to Reunion Island but her descriptions of the Island make us feel like we are there. We can feel the contrast of the tropical island with its at the time very exotic natives to Paris of the 1830s. The lush beauty and volcanic nature of the islands is dramatically conveyed. At one point I really felt like I was sitting on the veranda of a big house on a sugar cane plantation drinking what had to have been delicious locally grown coffee feeling the breezes from the high volcanic mountains flow over me while pushing to the back of my mind what the human cost of this leisure might have been.

George Sand (1804 to 1876) had a very interesting life. Wikipedia has a good article on her that goes into all her relationships with the famous and does talk about the evidence for her being a GLBT author. Sand had a huge literary out put, writing well over sixty novels. I am including this book among my readings for the Women Unbound Challenge for its treatment of French Marriage Customs and slavery issues related to women on Reunion Island.

Mel u

The Reading Life

The Face of a Stranger by Anne Perry

2010-02-19T15:16:00.001-05:00

How did it take me so long to read Anne Perry????

I was looking for a good neo-Victorian mystery when Perry's Inspector Monk series was recommended. The Face of a Stranger is the first in the series, and it grabbed me right away. Circa 1860, a mysterious, anonymous man awakens in pain in a terrible place -- a jail? The workhouse? It turns out he is in a horrible Victorian hospital, and he does not know his own name, nor how he came to be there. It turns out he has been there three weeks after his carriage overturned, but he has no memory of the accident or anything about himself. He does have one visitor -- a police detective named Runcorn, who tells the man his name is William Monk, and that before the accident he was also a police detective.

Poor Mr. Monk slowly recovers but cannot recall any of his memory. However, he must attempt to continue working as a policeman despite his loss, since he has no other resources. He returns to work and is given a case -- the brutal murder of a gentleman named Joscelin Grey, who was beaten to death in his apartment. Mr. Grey, a veteran of the Crimean war, was the third son of a wealthy family. While trying to determine the facts of his own life, Monk also encounters a tragic beauty, and it appears that before his accident, he was attempting to solve a mystery for her as well. Inspector Monk must try to solve both case while trying to make sense of his own life and history, without revealing to anyone that he is practically amnesiac.

Perry does a great job of bringing the characters and the Victorian era to life. Not only does this book include three potential mysteries, Perry makes a lot of points about the British class system and snobbery -- the aristocrats are extremely rude and condescending to the police -- plus the roles of women, while including background about the Crimean War, about which I knew nothing, but if you're interested, click here. Apparently, the Crimean War was a battle between the west and Russia over control in the Middle East. It sounds horrible, even worse than wars going on right now. Medical conditions were terrible; according to Wikipedia, about 5,000 British soldiers died as result of wounds and in action, and another 16,000 died of diseases. This book was written in 1990, but it's surprisingly relevant if you think about it.

Anyhow, it's a cracking good mystery. I had a few ideas about the killer, but there are some pretty good twists and turns before the complete story is revealed. Perry does tend to repeat some points -- I get it, the Crimea was terrible, the aristocrats had no idea what the rest of the world was going through, and women were treated like crap back then. However, I still really enjoyed this book and I'm looking forward to the next book in the series. Of which there are sixteen at present.

I have a love/hate thing with series mysteries. They are dangerous, ruinous to one's reading list. I'm just a girl who can't say no -- when I find a mystery writer I love, I will get completely obsessed and read the entire series. It's like a bag of Ruffles, you can't eat just one. In my youth, I read all of Agatha Christie; later, I moved on to Ruth Rendell (including the Barbara Vine novels, still my favorite); the late, great Dick Francis, may he rest in peace; P. D. James, Peter Lovesey. . . I just noticed they're all British.

Anyway, now that I am all into Anne Perry I will have to read the entire Monk series, plus the Christmas novellas (well, maybe I'll save those for December). And the Pitt series. . . oh, this is bad news; I have just added another fortysome books to my to-read list. I just know I'll never read them all before I die. Sigh. Well, to quote Borges, "I have always imagined Paradise to be a kind of library." Let's hope they have a good selection of mysteries.

I read this book as part of Our Mutual Read challenge. This book review also appears on my blog, Books and Chocolate.

The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher by Kate Summerscale

2010-02-16T09:32:00.001-05:00

CSI: Victorian!!

If you have any interest at all in Victorian sensational or detective fiction, or in the neo-Victorian detective fiction, The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective will probably interest you as much as it did me. It shows great insight into the Victorian frenzied fascination with crimes and detection. Summerscale shows the influences of this case, as well as other Victorian true crimes, on such famous novelists as Charles Dickens, Wilkie Collins, Henry James, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

This book explores a sensational case that mesmerized the British public in 1860. The real-life detective, Mr. Whicher, was the inspiration for several fictional detectives, including one my personal favorites, Inspector Bucket in Charles Dickens' Bleak House. As I read the book, I couldn't help but picture Mr. Whicher looking exactly like Alun Armstrong, the actor who portrayed Inspector Bucket so perfectly in the 2005 BBC adaptation, below.

In the early hours of June 29, 1860, a terrible crime occurred in the town of Road, Wiltshire County. After the entire household was shut up tight, Francis Saville Kent, not quite four years old, was taken from his bed while still asleep in the dead of night and brutally murdered. His absence was discovered the following morning and not long afterward his small body was found in the servants' privy.

Since the house was completely secured, suspicion fell on the members of the household. That night the residents were: Mr. Kent, his second wife Mary, who was eight months pregnant; three servants, and the children: four children ages fifteen to twenty from his first marriage; and three small children from the second marriage. In particular, suspicions focused on three people: the nursemaid, Elizabeth Gough, who slept in the nursery with two of the children, including young Saville, the victim; Constance Kent, 16, from Mr. Kent's first marriage; and Mr. Kent himself.

After several days of investigations by the local police, the media had caused such an uproar that the entire country was riveted on the case, and a Scotland Yard detective was called in: Mr. Whicher. This case became a media circus. If you think the paparazzi and the media are bad now, it was just as awful 150 years ago. This case tore the family apart, exposing all their quirks, and secrets. The case revealed some oddities; first, that the late Mrs. Kent had been considered mentally ill before her deat; that the second Mrs. Kent had been the family governmess, who was in control of the household while the first Mrs. Kent was ill; that the oldest Kent children, from the first marriage, lived on the third floor, on the same level as the servants. This raised some very interesting questions -- had Mr. Kent had an affair with the governess while the first wife was alive? Was the first Mrs. Kent truly mentally ill, or were Mr. Kent and the governess simply trying to get her out of the way? Were the older children badly treated by their stepmother? And was Mr. Kent having an affair with the nursemaid? The speculation by the media, the public, and the police were overwhelming and went on for years until the mystery was finally solved.

This book is both well-written and well-researched. Summerscale pored over original documents, and the book includes diagrams, illustrations, and photos of the family and the house -- and an extremely useful note on currency conversions. It's both fascinating and creepy. I've read a lot of mysteries, but hardly any true crime. The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher also explores the Victorian fascination with detectives and fantastic popularity of detective fiction and sensational novels. If you've read Bleak House, The Moonstone, or The Turn of the Screw, you may recognize elements from this case. It also inspired many other "locked house" and "country estate" murder mysteries. The creepy part is that it's all true.

This book counts as my first book in the Our Mutual Read Challenge. This blog entry is also posted on my blog, Books and Chocolate.

Strangely Beautiful Giveaway Winner!

2010-02-14T20:56:00.000-05:00

I used Random.org and the winning number is 3, which happens to be Miss Margay! Shoot me an email (located to the left) and I will ship off this book to you. Congrats!

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte

2010-02-14T11:00:00.003-05:00

Although Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights and Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre have always been two of my favourite Victorian classics, this is the first time I've read anything by the youngest Bronte sister, Anne. I feel a bit guilty that it has taken me so long to get round to reading one of Anne's books, especially as I enjoyed it almost as much as the other two books I've just mentioned.

Anne's writing style is not the same as Charlotte's or Emily's – there's less dramatic romanticism and poetic imagery, although she still writes with a lot of passion. She has quite a sharp style that is probably more similar to Jane Austen than to either of her sisters.

I won't go into the plot in too much detail but The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is the story of Helen Huntingdon, a young woman who leaves her alcoholic husband and goes into hiding with her five year-old son, Arthur. Not long after arriving at Wildfell Hall she meets local farmer, Gilbert Markham, who falls in love with her. When Gilbert questions her about the rumours circulating about her in the village, she allows him to read her diary in which she had recorded the details of her unhappy marriage.

The book has an interesting structure - it's told partly in the form of letters from Gilbert Markham to his brother-in-law Jack Halford, and partly as extracts from Helen Huntingdon's diary. I loved the first section from Gilbert's point of view, describing the arrival of the mysterious woman at Wildfell Hall with everyone wondering who she was and where she came from. The story probably wouldn't have worked had it not been set in the 19th century. Today there's nothing unusual in a single mother living alone with her little boy, but in 1828 when The Tenant of Wildfell Hall takes place, it makes her the target of gossip and scandal.

When Helen's diary began it took me a while to get used to the change of voice and the change of pace but it soon developed into the most powerful section of the book. I didn't particularly like Helen as I thought she was just a little bit too saintly and perfect, but she was a very strong person who defied convention to do what she thought was best for herself and her child. Her diary entries are filled with descriptions of some really despicable characters and describe scenes of drunkenness, violence, verbal and physical abuse, and adultery, which I can imagine readers in the 19th century would have been shocked by. Apparently after Anne's death, re-publication of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall was prevented by Charlotte, who considered the choice of subject to be a big mistake. However, I would have no hesitation recommending this book to anyone who has enjoyed Emily and Charlotte's work, as well as those of you who have never read any other Bronte books.

Helen Loves Books