This fascinating non-fiction book examines the representation of desire between woman in literature in six section: 'Travesties', 'Inseparables', 'Rivals', 'Monsters', 'Detection' and 'Out'. While it's full of detail and so will please any scholars interested in the subject, Inseparable is also an easy, sometimes amusing, read for non-academics. Donoghue infuses her non-fiction analysis with the same edge of humour that I enjoy so much in her fiction. Though, for me, this subject could never be dry and boring, she ensures it isn't so.
The 'Travesties' section looks at cross-dressing within texts from 990 onwards, including brief discussions on Shakespeare, Margaret Cavendish and Theophile Gautier amongst others. It examines the recurring depictions of 'The Female Bridegroom' and 'The Male Amazon' in a chapter that looks at the causes and consequences of cross-dressing and its heyday in the drama of the seventeeth century.
'Inseparables' begins with the Biblical account of Ruth and Naomi and covers the representation of love based on similarity. As this is one of my areas of interest, I perhaps found this chapter the most interesting, particularly the discussion on Charlotte Bronte's Shirley. It also highlighted some works I want to read, both for pleasure and study - as every chapter did.
'Rivals' is a fascinating analysis of what happens when a woman and man compete for the same love. It starts with Sappho and goes through Shakespeare, Richardson and some rather brilliant-sounding French texts before moving on to discuss what happens when the rivalry bubbles over. It examined some texts I was already familiar with, such as The Rainbow and The Fox, but, again, the ones I found most intriguing were the ones I've yet to read, most notably The Bostonians.
Perhaps the chapter on 'Monsters' contains the themes most familiar to observers of fiction about desire between women. It's interesting to see the texts these stereotypes stemmed from then we take a short tour through Dickens, Hardy and others. This is quite an uncomfortable chapter, though I particularly liked the section on ghost stories.
The fifth chapter on 'Detection' provided me with plenty of books I want to read somewhere down the line. Again, desire between women is a theme pretty familiar to readers of the crime genre and it looks at writers including Ruth Rendell, Agatha Christie and P.D. James. Given my sensation fiction roots, I was also pleased to see a discussion of The Woman in White in this chapter followed by an examination of two novels by Sarah Waters.
'Out', the final chapter, looks at the 'awakening' motif in texts from George Moore onwards. It's a nice shift in tone from the other chapters, looking at declared love instead of coded texts, but it also highlights the complexities of modern life. There's a section here on 'first love' which covers several texts I was already familiar with and, once more, a number of works mentioned in this chapter are now begging to be read.
Ultimately, Emma Donoghue has written a book that is both informative and fascinating. Her subject knowledge is exemplary and her style engaging. I've already referred back to Inseparable for academic work and I have no doubt I'll be doing that again fairly frequently. Highly recommended!
Showing posts with label charlotte bronte. Show all posts
Showing posts with label charlotte bronte. Show all posts
Tuesday, 26 May 2015
Wednesday, 12 November 2014
Book Review: Shirley by Charlotte Bronte
Shirley tells the story of the titular heroine and her community during the Napoleonic Wars. Shirley Keeldar is a woman of independent means while her new friend Caroline Helstone is not. Caroline loves her cousin, Robert Moore, but he's aware that he needs money to keep his mill going during the problems caused by the Luddites and the war so his attention becomes fixed on marrying Shirley. For her part, Shirley has a secret love of her own which may upset Robert's plans. Surrounding them are vicars, curates and disgruntled mill employees, all struggling with their own problems as the country remains in turmoil.
I'm certainly not alone in saying that I found Shirley difficult. It's very episodic and starts at a dinner of curates, who we hear very little about for the remainder of the novel. Bronte jumps around from person to person, spending a tantalisingly short amount of time with some of them before leaping onto the next. It added up to a very tricky novel to follow but, on the other hand, it meant I could put it down and not be too confused when I got back to it. That's perhaps why it took me over a month to read it - the impetus to continue was sadly lacking.
What I'm left with after reading Shirley are fragments, flashes of events, which may well be what Bronte was aiming for. Certainly, there are some memorable moments within the novel that have lingered with me. The attack on Moore's mill, skilfully told from the point of view of the women and not the attackers or defenders, is one such moment, as is the amusing scene where one of the curates finds himself on the wrong side of Shirley's faithful dog. Some of the early conversations between Shirley and Caroline are fascinating, though I became frustrated by their lack of contact in later chapters. Equally, while there is one conversation between Shirley and Louis Moore that I thoroughly enjoyed, some of their other interactions are far too lengthy. There's a sense within this novel that Bronte is examining political and social debates through the mouths of her characters. While this, of course, common, it certainly feels more prominent in Shirley - the sheer amount of information and opinion Bronte seeks to impart is overwhelming, prolonging the novel far beyond the length its story would take it to.
Ultimately, Shirley is a complex work which could easily alienate readers in the first few pages. I'm glad I persevered and the introduction in my Penguin edition by Lucasta Miller was most helpful. I enjoyed, also, joining up various opinions in my mind with those of Bronte's family, especially her father. I'm still gradually wading through The Brontes by Juliet Barker and it's nice to make those connections.
I'm certainly not alone in saying that I found Shirley difficult. It's very episodic and starts at a dinner of curates, who we hear very little about for the remainder of the novel. Bronte jumps around from person to person, spending a tantalisingly short amount of time with some of them before leaping onto the next. It added up to a very tricky novel to follow but, on the other hand, it meant I could put it down and not be too confused when I got back to it. That's perhaps why it took me over a month to read it - the impetus to continue was sadly lacking.
What I'm left with after reading Shirley are fragments, flashes of events, which may well be what Bronte was aiming for. Certainly, there are some memorable moments within the novel that have lingered with me. The attack on Moore's mill, skilfully told from the point of view of the women and not the attackers or defenders, is one such moment, as is the amusing scene where one of the curates finds himself on the wrong side of Shirley's faithful dog. Some of the early conversations between Shirley and Caroline are fascinating, though I became frustrated by their lack of contact in later chapters. Equally, while there is one conversation between Shirley and Louis Moore that I thoroughly enjoyed, some of their other interactions are far too lengthy. There's a sense within this novel that Bronte is examining political and social debates through the mouths of her characters. While this, of course, common, it certainly feels more prominent in Shirley - the sheer amount of information and opinion Bronte seeks to impart is overwhelming, prolonging the novel far beyond the length its story would take it to.
Ultimately, Shirley is a complex work which could easily alienate readers in the first few pages. I'm glad I persevered and the introduction in my Penguin edition by Lucasta Miller was most helpful. I enjoyed, also, joining up various opinions in my mind with those of Bronte's family, especially her father. I'm still gradually wading through The Brontes by Juliet Barker and it's nice to make those connections.
Thursday, 5 September 2013
Book Review: Villette by Charlotte Bronte
Villette tells the story of Lucy Snowe as she leaves England to take her chances in France. She ends up teaching in a school owned by the imperious Madame Beck. She reconnects with old friends and has a tempestuous relationship with fellow teacher, M. Paul Emanuel, which finally becomes the main thrust of the book. Prior to that, we see her infatuation with her godmother's son, Dr Bretton, and his infatuations with their mutual friends, Ginerva Fanshawe and Polly Home.
One of my problems with Villette was how disjointed the first third of the book is. We see a collection of events which seem to have no significance. Although they all conspire to add to the plot later, it is very difficult to feel grounded as we slip from Lucy's time with her godmother to her time as an assistant then join her on the boat to France. Until she joins Madame Beck's establishment, the narrative doesn't really settle. Even then, there are periods where the narrator gets lost in describing one sequence of events and abandons characters for long periods of time. In that respect, it's a difficult novel to read.
I did enjoy the way that Bronte developed M. Paul Emanuel, building his role up gradually until he actually became all I cared about. I had difficulty connecting with Lucy Snowe as a protagonist at first because I didn't really understand her - the later interactions with M. Paul Emanuel, from his fete day onwards, made her a more interesting character for me. Madame Beck, also, is an extraordinary creation who is the compelling presence in any scene she appears in. However, alongside these two fascinating characters you have distinct, and perhaps boring, types of the 'good doctor', the 'flirt' the 'precocious child grown up into a splendid woman'. Half of the novel felt manufactured and the other half felt original.
The descriptions of place were, though, remarkable, particularly when Lucy walks around Villette at night and stumbles upon a party. Equally, the mystery of the ghostly nun adds atmosphere to the centre of the novel. There are some memorable scenes, including the aforementioned fete scene between Lucy and M. Paul Emanuel, but also the moment when Lucy wakes up in a familiar yet unfamiliar setting and finds herself amongst friends.
This novel blends the journey of one individual with the world around her. The religious barrier that erects itself at various times is both integral to the story and frustrating to the reader. I have to say, though, I hated the ambiguous ending. Everybody else got a final send-off but the character I've spent hundreds of pages trying to like is denied finality - it meant I concluded Villette with the same ambivalent feeling I'd read most of the book with.
One of my problems with Villette was how disjointed the first third of the book is. We see a collection of events which seem to have no significance. Although they all conspire to add to the plot later, it is very difficult to feel grounded as we slip from Lucy's time with her godmother to her time as an assistant then join her on the boat to France. Until she joins Madame Beck's establishment, the narrative doesn't really settle. Even then, there are periods where the narrator gets lost in describing one sequence of events and abandons characters for long periods of time. In that respect, it's a difficult novel to read.
I did enjoy the way that Bronte developed M. Paul Emanuel, building his role up gradually until he actually became all I cared about. I had difficulty connecting with Lucy Snowe as a protagonist at first because I didn't really understand her - the later interactions with M. Paul Emanuel, from his fete day onwards, made her a more interesting character for me. Madame Beck, also, is an extraordinary creation who is the compelling presence in any scene she appears in. However, alongside these two fascinating characters you have distinct, and perhaps boring, types of the 'good doctor', the 'flirt' the 'precocious child grown up into a splendid woman'. Half of the novel felt manufactured and the other half felt original.
The descriptions of place were, though, remarkable, particularly when Lucy walks around Villette at night and stumbles upon a party. Equally, the mystery of the ghostly nun adds atmosphere to the centre of the novel. There are some memorable scenes, including the aforementioned fete scene between Lucy and M. Paul Emanuel, but also the moment when Lucy wakes up in a familiar yet unfamiliar setting and finds herself amongst friends.
This novel blends the journey of one individual with the world around her. The religious barrier that erects itself at various times is both integral to the story and frustrating to the reader. I have to say, though, I hated the ambiguous ending. Everybody else got a final send-off but the character I've spent hundreds of pages trying to like is denied finality - it meant I concluded Villette with the same ambivalent feeling I'd read most of the book with.
Monday, 2 September 2013
Some Wise Words - Charlotte Bronte
A while ago, after reading Agnes Grey, I blogged about a passage from that book that resonated with me. Now I've just finished reading Villette by Anne's sister, Charlotte, and a few passages in that jumped out at me. While I didn't really like the book as a whole, some sentences still resonated.
'Who but a coward would pass his whole life in hamlets; and for ever abandon his faculties to the eating rust of obscurity?'
'I did long, achingly, then and for four and twenty hours afterwards, for something to fetch me out of my present existence, and lead me upstairs and onwards. This longing, and all of a similar kind, it was necessary to knock on the head; which I did, figuratively, after the manner of Jael to Sisera, driving a nail through their temples. Unlike Sisera, they did not die: they were but transiently stunned, and at intervals would turn on the nail with a rebellious wrench: then did the temples bleed and the brain thrill to its core.'
'No mockery in this world ever sounds to me so hollow as that of being told to cultivate happiness. What does such advice mean? Happiness is not a potato, to be planted in mould, and tilled with manure.'
I think the next time someone asks me if I'm happy I'll simply tell them 'happiness is not a potato' and see what they make of that...
'Who but a coward would pass his whole life in hamlets; and for ever abandon his faculties to the eating rust of obscurity?'
'I did long, achingly, then and for four and twenty hours afterwards, for something to fetch me out of my present existence, and lead me upstairs and onwards. This longing, and all of a similar kind, it was necessary to knock on the head; which I did, figuratively, after the manner of Jael to Sisera, driving a nail through their temples. Unlike Sisera, they did not die: they were but transiently stunned, and at intervals would turn on the nail with a rebellious wrench: then did the temples bleed and the brain thrill to its core.'
'No mockery in this world ever sounds to me so hollow as that of being told to cultivate happiness. What does such advice mean? Happiness is not a potato, to be planted in mould, and tilled with manure.'
I think the next time someone asks me if I'm happy I'll simply tell them 'happiness is not a potato' and see what they make of that...
Friday, 9 March 2012
Classic Film Review: Jane Eyre (1943)
I became interested in Joan Fontaine after watching her with Fred Astaire in A Damsel in Distress (1937). To put it bluntly, I was bewitched. When I saw that she was in Jane Eyre opposite Orson Welles I was fairly excited.
The film does have the melodramatic feel of the era but also manages to recreate some of the foreboding atmosphere of Lowood and Thornfield. Fontaine - despite her beauty - makes a very good plain Jane because they don't glamorise her as much as I feared they would. As for Welles as Mr Rochester... Well, that was just an excellent bit of casting. He's got the presence of Rochester, the humour lingering beneath the surface and I felt he had real chemistry with Fontaine. The supporting cast was pretty good as well: Margaret O'Brien's pre-Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) French accent as young Adele was much better than I expected, though I'm not a huge fan of her. Agnes Moorehead was the perfect Mrs Reed while Henry Daniell played the terrible Mr Brocklehurst to perfection. The plot is slimmed down from the book and misses out some interesting scenes (I'm assuming Orson Welles wasn't keen on dressing up like a gypsy). Nevertheless, this was a good adaptation and one that never pretended to be more than the entertainment it was.
If I had to pick one favourite scene it would probably be Rochester's horse being spooked by Jane on the moors. Wonderfully shot and a nice precursor to the movement of their relationship. All in all, thoroughly enjoyable and, yes, my obsession with Joan Fontaine is growing.
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The film does have the melodramatic feel of the era but also manages to recreate some of the foreboding atmosphere of Lowood and Thornfield. Fontaine - despite her beauty - makes a very good plain Jane because they don't glamorise her as much as I feared they would. As for Welles as Mr Rochester... Well, that was just an excellent bit of casting. He's got the presence of Rochester, the humour lingering beneath the surface and I felt he had real chemistry with Fontaine. The supporting cast was pretty good as well: Margaret O'Brien's pre-Meet Me in St. Louis (1944) French accent as young Adele was much better than I expected, though I'm not a huge fan of her. Agnes Moorehead was the perfect Mrs Reed while Henry Daniell played the terrible Mr Brocklehurst to perfection. The plot is slimmed down from the book and misses out some interesting scenes (I'm assuming Orson Welles wasn't keen on dressing up like a gypsy). Nevertheless, this was a good adaptation and one that never pretended to be more than the entertainment it was.
If I had to pick one favourite scene it would probably be Rochester's horse being spooked by Jane on the moors. Wonderfully shot and a nice precursor to the movement of their relationship. All in all, thoroughly enjoyable and, yes, my obsession with Joan Fontaine is growing.
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Monday, 30 January 2012
Save The Red House!
I was aghast to read this Guardian article suggesting that Kirklees district council are gearing up to close and sell the Red House Museum in Gomersal. This stems from the fact that the wellbeing and communities directive, in charge of museums and the like, have to cut their costs by 19% to £105m. To quote from the article: "Closure of the Red House in September would make a full-year saving of £116,000 with sale of the site an additional, one-off capital receipt, probably of around £750,000." The yearly cost seems negligible compared to what they need to cut. As for the one-off receipt: are they so confident they'll find a buyer? I'll come back to that bit.
I was fortunate enough to visit the Red House last year. Despite living so close, I'd just never got round to it. That seems bizarre, given the Bronte links, but sometimes the heritage on your own doorstep slips by unnoticed. You may pay attention when it's no longer there but my general feeling was that it wasn't going anywhere. Lucky I didn't wait a few more years judging by this. Anyway, although the house itself is quite small, it is wonderfully kept. It is a perfect small replica of Victorian life for those younger visitors who might be interested in history, but not that interested in musty old rooms. There is also an exhibition in the barn - holding, amongst other little artefacts, a card for Emily Bronte's funeral - and a beautiful small garden to admire. There's a little gift shop on the ground floor of the museum and, all in all, the place is a nice little outing. More importantly, it's history. Wiping that away for a few pounds seems silly.
I would be arguing for the preservation of the Red House even if it wasn't for the Bronte connections. It's a gorgeous little place. However, the Bronte links are compelling and rather difficult to ignore. Charlotte Bronte didn't just visit the house - it helped inspire one of her novels. This is taken from the Yorkshire.com website entry about the museum:
"The stained glass windows, described in 'Shirley' are perfectly preserved in the dining room. And the award-winning recreated 19th Century gardens, with their shaped beds, decorative ironwork and authentic varieties of plants and shrubs, help to capture the atmosphere of this fascinating bygone age.
Explore Charlotte Bronte's Spen Valley connections and her friendships with Mary Taylor and Ellen Nussey in The Secrets Out exhibition in the barn. What did local people say when they discovered that she'd based some of her characters in 'Shirley' on them? And how did Charlotte, Mary and Ellen react to society's strict view of 'a woman's place'?"
Can you see how we'll be losing a slice of history if we let this slip quietly away? The Brontes are a major draw to Yorkshire. The more things we can offer the average visitor, the better. The council seem to think that because the museum drew so few people last year that it deserves to be closed down. It doesn't. It deserves to be promoted. There are plenty of schools in the area so why did less than 1,000 schoolchildren visit the house last year? This is a problem that probably delves deeper into school management than this blog post requires but it's certainly worth looking at. If a property fails, especially when it's free entry, it is usually down to a failure on the part of the management, not a failure of the historic site itself. The Red House is certainly a little off the beaten track but it's survived as a museum for quite some time and I don't see why we should let go of it now.
I would urge local residents to make their feelings known about this. As the Guardian article says, this is a decision hastily made that will be regretted in the long term. The Red House is a Grade II listed building. This means that a potential buyer would have to jump through all sorts of hoops to make changes to it. Have Kirklees council actually investigated whether there are interested parties in the event of a decision to sell? If not, the building will rest empty for a prolonged period, with the council still responsible for the maintenance. They will be getting all the difficulties of owning a listed building but with none of the rewards of enriching the area and providing access to a beautiful little house.
Savings have to be made. We know this. However, this does not only strike me as rash but also idiotic if they haven't completely thought it through. Can we have some sense please? And not lose a genuine piece of literary history while we're looking the other way.
I was fortunate enough to visit the Red House last year. Despite living so close, I'd just never got round to it. That seems bizarre, given the Bronte links, but sometimes the heritage on your own doorstep slips by unnoticed. You may pay attention when it's no longer there but my general feeling was that it wasn't going anywhere. Lucky I didn't wait a few more years judging by this. Anyway, although the house itself is quite small, it is wonderfully kept. It is a perfect small replica of Victorian life for those younger visitors who might be interested in history, but not that interested in musty old rooms. There is also an exhibition in the barn - holding, amongst other little artefacts, a card for Emily Bronte's funeral - and a beautiful small garden to admire. There's a little gift shop on the ground floor of the museum and, all in all, the place is a nice little outing. More importantly, it's history. Wiping that away for a few pounds seems silly.
I would be arguing for the preservation of the Red House even if it wasn't for the Bronte connections. It's a gorgeous little place. However, the Bronte links are compelling and rather difficult to ignore. Charlotte Bronte didn't just visit the house - it helped inspire one of her novels. This is taken from the Yorkshire.com website entry about the museum:
"The stained glass windows, described in 'Shirley' are perfectly preserved in the dining room. And the award-winning recreated 19th Century gardens, with their shaped beds, decorative ironwork and authentic varieties of plants and shrubs, help to capture the atmosphere of this fascinating bygone age.
Explore Charlotte Bronte's Spen Valley connections and her friendships with Mary Taylor and Ellen Nussey in The Secrets Out exhibition in the barn. What did local people say when they discovered that she'd based some of her characters in 'Shirley' on them? And how did Charlotte, Mary and Ellen react to society's strict view of 'a woman's place'?"
Can you see how we'll be losing a slice of history if we let this slip quietly away? The Brontes are a major draw to Yorkshire. The more things we can offer the average visitor, the better. The council seem to think that because the museum drew so few people last year that it deserves to be closed down. It doesn't. It deserves to be promoted. There are plenty of schools in the area so why did less than 1,000 schoolchildren visit the house last year? This is a problem that probably delves deeper into school management than this blog post requires but it's certainly worth looking at. If a property fails, especially when it's free entry, it is usually down to a failure on the part of the management, not a failure of the historic site itself. The Red House is certainly a little off the beaten track but it's survived as a museum for quite some time and I don't see why we should let go of it now.
I would urge local residents to make their feelings known about this. As the Guardian article says, this is a decision hastily made that will be regretted in the long term. The Red House is a Grade II listed building. This means that a potential buyer would have to jump through all sorts of hoops to make changes to it. Have Kirklees council actually investigated whether there are interested parties in the event of a decision to sell? If not, the building will rest empty for a prolonged period, with the council still responsible for the maintenance. They will be getting all the difficulties of owning a listed building but with none of the rewards of enriching the area and providing access to a beautiful little house.
Savings have to be made. We know this. However, this does not only strike me as rash but also idiotic if they haven't completely thought it through. Can we have some sense please? And not lose a genuine piece of literary history while we're looking the other way.
Friday, 16 December 2011
200th Post - Getting There Alone
When I was in my early teens my mum gave me a copy of A Tale of Two Cities for either Christmas or a birthday. I read it but it didn't make much of an impact on me. Although I was an avid reader throughout my youth I don't think classics really touched my radar. I think I rebelled against them, probably due to the fact my paternal grandfather had bookshelves stacked high with Dickens, Milton, Fielding and Shakespeare. Who doesn't instinctively feel as a kid that they should be the exact opposite to their family?
Of course, I was exposed to Shakespeare throughout my schooling and appreciated the tragedies enough to see Hamlet and Macbeth on stage at the West Yorkshire Playhouse. I studied the first chapter of Great Expectations for my GCSE coursework and looked at Tess of the D'Urbervilles for an A-Level module. I think Tess proved to be the breakthrough text. Certainly, when I got to university I was more than happy to find myself on a Victorian fiction unit. I remember vividly sitting and reading Jane Eyre in the lounge of my student accommodation, curled up on one of the cheap Ikea chairs and gazing up once in a while to look at the view of Lincoln Cathedral. Jane Eyre was followed by Wuthering Heights then the full text of Great Expectations and other selections. Although these books were part of a syllabus, reading them wasn't a chore (perhaps reading Middlemarch was though). I was then (and still am) a rather shy girl, reluctant to speak in seminars, but I really did enjoy the literature. I hadn't come to the texts on my own as such, but I'd found enjoyment in them because I'd been able to look at them as something other than the books my grandfather enjoyed.
Reaching conclusions about your tastes on your own is satisfying. Most people, unless they're exceptionally eager to please, can't get enjoyment from acting to suit others. When you finally sit down and consider the things you like, there's a certain thrill in knowing that these tastes are yours alone. They may be influenced by the prejudices and encouragements of your past but, if you have even a smidgen of self-awareness, you can pinpoint why you like them and not why people you've known like them.
Look at me and Victorian fiction. From being ambivalent about A Tale of Two Cities I've progressed to studying a minor author at PhD level. Classics of all eras find their way onto my reading piles. I'm intrigued by the literature and culture of the nineteenth-century in particular but I count Tom Jones and Mrs Dalloway amongst my favourite books. But I read them because I want to, not because somebody stern wants me to.
We've got a serious problem in Britain at the moment. One in three children live in houses without books. This is a nightmare and I dread to think where it'll leave us in a few decades. But I don't think pushing so-called 'good' literature on them from a young age is quite the way to go. Some will be receptive to it but a lot won't. It might put them off for life. When I was younger I loved Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl and whatever mystery books I could get my hands on. I happily read tie-ins with my favourite television shows - Sabrina the Teenage Witch springs straight to mind. That's a great way to get children from screen to page without much of an effort. Then perhaps when they get older they'll go looking for fiction they might enjoy themselves. Perhaps they'll even discover Charles Dickens, Emily Bronte and Wilkie Collins on their travels... Ah, well, an academic can dream.
Of course, I was exposed to Shakespeare throughout my schooling and appreciated the tragedies enough to see Hamlet and Macbeth on stage at the West Yorkshire Playhouse. I studied the first chapter of Great Expectations for my GCSE coursework and looked at Tess of the D'Urbervilles for an A-Level module. I think Tess proved to be the breakthrough text. Certainly, when I got to university I was more than happy to find myself on a Victorian fiction unit. I remember vividly sitting and reading Jane Eyre in the lounge of my student accommodation, curled up on one of the cheap Ikea chairs and gazing up once in a while to look at the view of Lincoln Cathedral. Jane Eyre was followed by Wuthering Heights then the full text of Great Expectations and other selections. Although these books were part of a syllabus, reading them wasn't a chore (perhaps reading Middlemarch was though). I was then (and still am) a rather shy girl, reluctant to speak in seminars, but I really did enjoy the literature. I hadn't come to the texts on my own as such, but I'd found enjoyment in them because I'd been able to look at them as something other than the books my grandfather enjoyed.
Reaching conclusions about your tastes on your own is satisfying. Most people, unless they're exceptionally eager to please, can't get enjoyment from acting to suit others. When you finally sit down and consider the things you like, there's a certain thrill in knowing that these tastes are yours alone. They may be influenced by the prejudices and encouragements of your past but, if you have even a smidgen of self-awareness, you can pinpoint why you like them and not why people you've known like them.
Look at me and Victorian fiction. From being ambivalent about A Tale of Two Cities I've progressed to studying a minor author at PhD level. Classics of all eras find their way onto my reading piles. I'm intrigued by the literature and culture of the nineteenth-century in particular but I count Tom Jones and Mrs Dalloway amongst my favourite books. But I read them because I want to, not because somebody stern wants me to.
We've got a serious problem in Britain at the moment. One in three children live in houses without books. This is a nightmare and I dread to think where it'll leave us in a few decades. But I don't think pushing so-called 'good' literature on them from a young age is quite the way to go. Some will be receptive to it but a lot won't. It might put them off for life. When I was younger I loved Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl and whatever mystery books I could get my hands on. I happily read tie-ins with my favourite television shows - Sabrina the Teenage Witch springs straight to mind. That's a great way to get children from screen to page without much of an effort. Then perhaps when they get older they'll go looking for fiction they might enjoy themselves. Perhaps they'll even discover Charles Dickens, Emily Bronte and Wilkie Collins on their travels... Ah, well, an academic can dream.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Juliet Barker
Last night I was fortunate enough to attend a talk with Juliet Barker, historian and author of what's really the definitive book on the Bronte family from someone so immersed in the family and era that she's practically a walking encyclopaedia on them. The famous 1994 book was fully updated and revised last year and runs to almost 1000 pages. The talk was part of the Morley Literature Festival and was held at the Gildersome Conservative Club. It was packed out and the ticket came complete with pie and peas - how can you go wrong with that?
Barker certainly knows her subject. My father (I bribed him with the pie and peas to be my driver and companion) described the talk as an assassination of Mrs Gaskell's portrait of the Brontes which has endured since publication in 1857, particularly the representations of Patrick and Branwell Bronte. It's as interesting to note why Mrs Gaskell made her conclusions as discovering which elements of life she distorted. But as well as the critique of Mrs Gaskell, there were also little titbits that demonstrated the life in both the Parsonage and Haworth itself.
There were a few questions from the audience, one quite specifically asking about the school where Patrick and Maria Bronte met. I was impressed by Barker's ability to not only reel off an answer but to respond at length with barely any thought behind it. Such a knowledge can only be gained by thorough involvement in - and love for - your subject and her warmth towards it was more than evident in her voice.
I came away with a signed and dedicated copy of the new edition, although I was too timid to go up and talk to her so I got my father to do it (and he paid!). Alas, the book will have to wait its turn to be read but I can't help relishing the enjoyment that's ahead of me.
Barker certainly knows her subject. My father (I bribed him with the pie and peas to be my driver and companion) described the talk as an assassination of Mrs Gaskell's portrait of the Brontes which has endured since publication in 1857, particularly the representations of Patrick and Branwell Bronte. It's as interesting to note why Mrs Gaskell made her conclusions as discovering which elements of life she distorted. But as well as the critique of Mrs Gaskell, there were also little titbits that demonstrated the life in both the Parsonage and Haworth itself.
There were a few questions from the audience, one quite specifically asking about the school where Patrick and Maria Bronte met. I was impressed by Barker's ability to not only reel off an answer but to respond at length with barely any thought behind it. Such a knowledge can only be gained by thorough involvement in - and love for - your subject and her warmth towards it was more than evident in her voice.
I came away with a signed and dedicated copy of the new edition, although I was too timid to go up and talk to her so I got my father to do it (and he paid!). Alas, the book will have to wait its turn to be read but I can't help relishing the enjoyment that's ahead of me.
Monday, 29 November 2010
Seeing Things Differently
I braved the bad weather at the weekend to go to 'Novelties', a one-day postgraduate symposium on all things nineteenth-century. Some of the interesting subjects covered included the stained glass renaissance of the period, the use of American slang in the popular press, and how the Victorians viewed their recent past. The topic that stuck with me, however, is pertinent to both my academic interests and my writing: it was discussed how Charlotte Bronte used eyes to great effect in Villette.
The speaker highlighted several portions of the novel when her eyesight fails Lucy Snowe and when what she sees cannot be relied upon. But what caught my attention as a writer was the way in which Bronte portrays those moments when Lucy's vision is not one hundred percent. She often distinguishes the blurs and lines first, the things we're all just about aware of when we first wake. What Bronte does to great effect is examine what constitutes both opening your eyes and what you're opening your eyes upon. Very rarely does a setting come to the eye whole as soon as you see it, particularly when the sight is an unusual one.
Mainly, what I took from this particular talk was more writerly than academic. As writers, we're constantly told to think in detail but then to use detail sparingly. And, of course, it would be detrimental to your story if you minutely described every movement by a character and how they perceive the world first thing on a morning. However, tailoring details to your character and plot is absolutely plausible.
To use an example from one of my drafts, my protagonist, Danni, has a debilitating leg injury. Often, then, her awareness of a situation is defined by the position of her leg in that situation. It's not something I bring into every scene - because that would swiftly bore the reader - but it's something I pepper over the top of the piece. Details like this aren't supposed to stand out as such; just help the overall flavour of the novel.
The speaker highlighted several portions of the novel when her eyesight fails Lucy Snowe and when what she sees cannot be relied upon. But what caught my attention as a writer was the way in which Bronte portrays those moments when Lucy's vision is not one hundred percent. She often distinguishes the blurs and lines first, the things we're all just about aware of when we first wake. What Bronte does to great effect is examine what constitutes both opening your eyes and what you're opening your eyes upon. Very rarely does a setting come to the eye whole as soon as you see it, particularly when the sight is an unusual one.
Mainly, what I took from this particular talk was more writerly than academic. As writers, we're constantly told to think in detail but then to use detail sparingly. And, of course, it would be detrimental to your story if you minutely described every movement by a character and how they perceive the world first thing on a morning. However, tailoring details to your character and plot is absolutely plausible.
To use an example from one of my drafts, my protagonist, Danni, has a debilitating leg injury. Often, then, her awareness of a situation is defined by the position of her leg in that situation. It's not something I bring into every scene - because that would swiftly bore the reader - but it's something I pepper over the top of the piece. Details like this aren't supposed to stand out as such; just help the overall flavour of the novel.
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