Recent reading
Jul. 23rd, 2022 11:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
regshoeI'm in one of my Victorian phases at the moment. I probably won't stay here for very long, as I've just got a couple more Age of Sail historical novels (one Aubrey-Maturin and one Hornblower) from the library this morning, but in the meantime, have a Victorian novel and a not-quite-Victorian historical novel set during the Victorian period.
The Small House at Allington by Anthony Trollope (1864). It was time for my annual Anthony Trollope novel! This is the fifth book in the Barsetshire series, although it's not actually set in Barsetshire itself (the exact location is not specified, but there are references to places in Barsetshire as being in 'the next county'). Allington is a little country village where there is a Great House—home to an old-fashioned and unmarried squire, Christopher Dale—and a Small House—owned by the squire and inhabited by his widowed sister-in-law and her two daughters Bell and Lily. The novel follows the various romantic entanglements between Bell and Lily, the squire's nephew Bernard, a friend of his named Adolphus Crosbie, the local doctor John Crofts, and the 'hobbledehoy' John Eames. Along the way various characters make unwise decisions, and receive more or less sympathy for it from Trollope's omniscient narrator; this seems to be a favourite theme of his, with characters getting into debt earlier in the series and making poor romantic/marital choices here.
Now, I judged this book unfairly! I was very doubtful about parts of the plot while reading, but the ending proved me wrong, and now I see that I ought to have had more faith in Trollope to do the right thing by his female characters. I can't discuss the details without spoilers, so here goes: The book begins with Lily getting engaged to Crosbie, but he then—with cruelty and cowardice much condemned by the narrator and the other characters—jilts her in favour of a richer young lady, and she is broken-hearted. Meanwhile, Eames has been pining away for love of Lily, and the narrator spends a lot of time sympathising with him in an indulgent sort of way, and seeming—so I thought—to suggest things like, this poor awkward young man (who is at the same time treating another female character, in unrequited love with him, rather poorly) means well really, and he loves Lily so much even though she's said she'll never return his feelings, doesn't he really deserve her after all he's been through? Throughout the second half of the book Lily maintains that she still loves Crosbie despite what he did to her, she's never going to get over him and she can't think of marrying any other man. Oh dear, I thought, this isn't going to end well—especially as basically all the other characters get on Eames's side, encourage him and start putting pressure on Lily about how good a thing it'd be for both of them if she accepted him. BUT THEN, Eames proposes to Lily, she restates her determination and rejects him in the face of all the other characters, and she actually ends the book still unmarried! I was impressed—that's really genuinely unusual for a Victorian novel (I suppose it was partly justified by Bell getting happily married, to Dr Crofts, at the end, so the plot doesn't flout convention entirely). Much love for Trollope and Lily.
There's also quite a lot about work in mid-Victorian civil service offices, which employ both Crosbie and Eames, which was an interesting bit of history. As was a bit of 'modern Victorian' historical contrast; in the fall-out from Crosbie's disgraceful behaviour, there's a bit about how thirty years ago this would have been resolved by Eames or some other honourable gentleman calling him out, but unfortunately duels are not the done thing anymore (instead Eames merely punches Crosbie at a railway station, a nice bit of setting juxtaposition). I was intrigued by the appearance of a side character named Palliser, as I know that's the title of another of Trollope's novel series. In fact the book's Wikipedia page says 'Although "The Small House at Allington" traditionally is placed within the Chronicles of Barsetshire series, a much stronger argument can be made to include it as the first of Trollope's Palliser novels'. Well, I've got one more Barsetshire book to go now, so in two years' time I might start the Palliser novels and see where they go from here...
The Sheep-Stealers by Violet Jacob (1902). I decided to branch out a bit from Flemington and try Jacob's first novel, set on the Welsh borders at the time of the Rebecca riots of the 1840s. I thought it might make a good comparison to E. A. Dillwyn's The Rebecca Rioter; in fact, despite the appearance of both the riots and the promised sheep-stealing, Jacob is much less interested in crime as a subject than Dillwyn. The plot is mostly about a complicated love polygon between the various main characters: Rhys Walters, a local farmer; Mary Vaughan, the daughter of the hated toll-keeper, whom Rhys seduces, gets pregnant and then dithers about marrying until whoops, it's too late, he's on the run after supposedly murdering her father during a Rebecca riot; Harry Fenton, a local squire's son; Isoline Ridgeway, a spoilt and snobbish young lady who meets Harry at a ball; and George Williams, a young man forced by poverty into sheep-stealing for a cruel and unscrupulous master. The book begins with that Rebecca riot; Rhys, on the run, takes shelter with George and is persuaded to join the sheep-stealing business, while George tries to escape from it; meanwhile Mary, after the birth and death of her child, is left alone to deal with her ruined reputation; and Harry falls desperately in love with Isoline, who for her part is very much in love with the idea of the money which it turns out he doesn't have, and who at the same time begins a series of thrilling clandestine meetings with the disguised Rhys.
This book has some... peculiar attitudes about gender. I was very annoyed while reading by the contrast between Jacob's treatment of Rhys, who abandons Mary and later courts Isoline under false pretences—while not exactly presenting him as a sympathetic hero, she has a lot of time for his complexities and psychological struggles, and not a great deal of blame for his carelessness and cruelty towards the women in his life; and her treatment of Isoline, who is shallow and snobbish and accepts Harry for his money and who we're repeatedly told is the worst ever, so evil and heartless!! with basically no nuance. On the other hand, Jacob condemns the sexism faced by Mary as a 'fallen woman', and treats her quite sympathetically; but, on an additional hand, she seems to go out of her way to portray this sexism as coming largely from other women—which, yes, women are responsible for a lot of misogyny, that's an interesting conversation to have in a book, but I thought it sat uncomfortably alongside the treatment of Rhys and Isoline. Another theme Jacob seems to like is class differences, and especially the uncomfortableness resulting from upper-class characters' practical dependence on their social inferiors. One of the side characters, Howlie Seaborne, is an irritating and insolent but courageous child who works as a servant for Isoline's family, and who reminded me a little of Skirling Wattie; unfortunately, my contrary liking for Isoline meant I was not really inclined to take his side in their conflicts.
I was also struck by the lack of any reference to any of the characters speaking Welsh, which seemed odd for the period; but according to Wikipedia only 67% of the population of Wales spoke Welsh in 1851, and the border regions at this time were largely monolingual English-speaking, so this does appear to be accurate for the specific location. I ought to find more books set in nineteenth-century Wales to read with some more geographical variety. I thought the book's ending was rather weak, especially as regards Rhys; and throughout, there's the same... not exactly bleakness, but cynical coldness and lack of authorial care for the characters which is my least favourite feature of Flemington, and which makes such a contrast to D. K. Broster.
The Small House at Allington by Anthony Trollope (1864). It was time for my annual Anthony Trollope novel! This is the fifth book in the Barsetshire series, although it's not actually set in Barsetshire itself (the exact location is not specified, but there are references to places in Barsetshire as being in 'the next county'). Allington is a little country village where there is a Great House—home to an old-fashioned and unmarried squire, Christopher Dale—and a Small House—owned by the squire and inhabited by his widowed sister-in-law and her two daughters Bell and Lily. The novel follows the various romantic entanglements between Bell and Lily, the squire's nephew Bernard, a friend of his named Adolphus Crosbie, the local doctor John Crofts, and the 'hobbledehoy' John Eames. Along the way various characters make unwise decisions, and receive more or less sympathy for it from Trollope's omniscient narrator; this seems to be a favourite theme of his, with characters getting into debt earlier in the series and making poor romantic/marital choices here.
Now, I judged this book unfairly! I was very doubtful about parts of the plot while reading, but the ending proved me wrong, and now I see that I ought to have had more faith in Trollope to do the right thing by his female characters. I can't discuss the details without spoilers, so here goes: The book begins with Lily getting engaged to Crosbie, but he then—with cruelty and cowardice much condemned by the narrator and the other characters—jilts her in favour of a richer young lady, and she is broken-hearted. Meanwhile, Eames has been pining away for love of Lily, and the narrator spends a lot of time sympathising with him in an indulgent sort of way, and seeming—so I thought—to suggest things like, this poor awkward young man (who is at the same time treating another female character, in unrequited love with him, rather poorly) means well really, and he loves Lily so much even though she's said she'll never return his feelings, doesn't he really deserve her after all he's been through? Throughout the second half of the book Lily maintains that she still loves Crosbie despite what he did to her, she's never going to get over him and she can't think of marrying any other man. Oh dear, I thought, this isn't going to end well—especially as basically all the other characters get on Eames's side, encourage him and start putting pressure on Lily about how good a thing it'd be for both of them if she accepted him. BUT THEN, Eames proposes to Lily, she restates her determination and rejects him in the face of all the other characters, and she actually ends the book still unmarried! I was impressed—that's really genuinely unusual for a Victorian novel (I suppose it was partly justified by Bell getting happily married, to Dr Crofts, at the end, so the plot doesn't flout convention entirely). Much love for Trollope and Lily.
There's also quite a lot about work in mid-Victorian civil service offices, which employ both Crosbie and Eames, which was an interesting bit of history. As was a bit of 'modern Victorian' historical contrast; in the fall-out from Crosbie's disgraceful behaviour, there's a bit about how thirty years ago this would have been resolved by Eames or some other honourable gentleman calling him out, but unfortunately duels are not the done thing anymore (instead Eames merely punches Crosbie at a railway station, a nice bit of setting juxtaposition). I was intrigued by the appearance of a side character named Palliser, as I know that's the title of another of Trollope's novel series. In fact the book's Wikipedia page says 'Although "The Small House at Allington" traditionally is placed within the Chronicles of Barsetshire series, a much stronger argument can be made to include it as the first of Trollope's Palliser novels'. Well, I've got one more Barsetshire book to go now, so in two years' time I might start the Palliser novels and see where they go from here...
The Sheep-Stealers by Violet Jacob (1902). I decided to branch out a bit from Flemington and try Jacob's first novel, set on the Welsh borders at the time of the Rebecca riots of the 1840s. I thought it might make a good comparison to E. A. Dillwyn's The Rebecca Rioter; in fact, despite the appearance of both the riots and the promised sheep-stealing, Jacob is much less interested in crime as a subject than Dillwyn. The plot is mostly about a complicated love polygon between the various main characters: Rhys Walters, a local farmer; Mary Vaughan, the daughter of the hated toll-keeper, whom Rhys seduces, gets pregnant and then dithers about marrying until whoops, it's too late, he's on the run after supposedly murdering her father during a Rebecca riot; Harry Fenton, a local squire's son; Isoline Ridgeway, a spoilt and snobbish young lady who meets Harry at a ball; and George Williams, a young man forced by poverty into sheep-stealing for a cruel and unscrupulous master. The book begins with that Rebecca riot; Rhys, on the run, takes shelter with George and is persuaded to join the sheep-stealing business, while George tries to escape from it; meanwhile Mary, after the birth and death of her child, is left alone to deal with her ruined reputation; and Harry falls desperately in love with Isoline, who for her part is very much in love with the idea of the money which it turns out he doesn't have, and who at the same time begins a series of thrilling clandestine meetings with the disguised Rhys.
This book has some... peculiar attitudes about gender. I was very annoyed while reading by the contrast between Jacob's treatment of Rhys, who abandons Mary and later courts Isoline under false pretences—while not exactly presenting him as a sympathetic hero, she has a lot of time for his complexities and psychological struggles, and not a great deal of blame for his carelessness and cruelty towards the women in his life; and her treatment of Isoline, who is shallow and snobbish and accepts Harry for his money and who we're repeatedly told is the worst ever, so evil and heartless!! with basically no nuance. On the other hand, Jacob condemns the sexism faced by Mary as a 'fallen woman', and treats her quite sympathetically; but, on an additional hand, she seems to go out of her way to portray this sexism as coming largely from other women—which, yes, women are responsible for a lot of misogyny, that's an interesting conversation to have in a book, but I thought it sat uncomfortably alongside the treatment of Rhys and Isoline. Another theme Jacob seems to like is class differences, and especially the uncomfortableness resulting from upper-class characters' practical dependence on their social inferiors. One of the side characters, Howlie Seaborne, is an irritating and insolent but courageous child who works as a servant for Isoline's family, and who reminded me a little of Skirling Wattie; unfortunately, my contrary liking for Isoline meant I was not really inclined to take his side in their conflicts.
I was also struck by the lack of any reference to any of the characters speaking Welsh, which seemed odd for the period; but according to Wikipedia only 67% of the population of Wales spoke Welsh in 1851, and the border regions at this time were largely monolingual English-speaking, so this does appear to be accurate for the specific location. I ought to find more books set in nineteenth-century Wales to read with some more geographical variety. I thought the book's ending was rather weak, especially as regards Rhys; and throughout, there's the same... not exactly bleakness, but cynical coldness and lack of authorial care for the characters which is my least favourite feature of Flemington, and which makes such a contrast to D. K. Broster.
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Date: Jul. 23rd, 2022 01:02 pm (UTC)(I see that Honno have reissued a couple of hers I haven't read, or maybe I just felt like a break.)
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Date: Jul. 23rd, 2022 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Jul. 23rd, 2022 04:11 pm (UTC)I hope Lily has some object in life other than pining for Crosbie, because otherwise spending the rest of her life alone pining for her lost (perfidious, unworthy) love seems like kind of a bummer ending.
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Date: Jul. 23rd, 2022 06:35 pm (UTC)I hope so... I quite like stories about long-term unrequited love, but it is a bit frustrating given how unworthy Crosbie is. I shall hope for a happy old maid-hood for Lily, then.
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Date: Jul. 23rd, 2022 07:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Jul. 24th, 2022 09:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: Jul. 23rd, 2022 07:43 pm (UTC)That is really neat.
I ought to find more books set in nineteenth-century Wales to read with some more geographical variety.
Do you want them from the nineteenth century, or just set there?
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Date: Jul. 24th, 2022 09:18 am (UTC)Do you want them from the nineteenth century, or just set there?
Written during the nineteenth century would be best, but I'm happy to try later historical books too if you've got suggestions!
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Date: Jul. 24th, 2022 09:02 pm (UTC)You don't comment on the brief bit of slashiness in the beginning, but isn't it striking how it has just the plot elements of Flemington? Two men on opposing sides are immediately attracted, but one of them is undercover, and his identity is later revealed in a way that makes the other one feel betrayed and angry. But here it just...goes nowhere, and is dropped for the het drama.
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Date: Jul. 25th, 2022 04:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Jul. 25th, 2022 04:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Jul. 25th, 2022 04:40 pm (UTC)