Dear Serial Readers,
I enjoyed reading about your own reading concurrent with this Trollope serial. Just this weekend while reading the fourth installment of Small House, I also read Frederick Douglass's 1845 slave narrative, which was also published in Britain followed by his lecture tour there. I mention this because, especially during the momentous Obama Week, the extraordinariness of Douglass's narrative renders the trials and tribulations of the Dales and Crosbies and Eameses of Barsetshire and beyond very small and very ordinary, from the wealthier squire and countess to the Lupexes and Ropers. As Maura mentioned, all seems to be about money and class, or L.S.D. Yet, to paraphrase Darwin, there is grandeur in this view of life, in taking the mundane and following its incremental movements.
I'm amused that so many of you are not inclined toward Johnny Eames, despite Trollope's narratorial pitch for hobbledehoyism and the "fragment" (or incomplete, imperfect) hero. Julia's post on the gender-crossing inflections of Trollope's characters highlights an element of interest in my reading too. In this respect I found intriguing Trollope's insect imagery of grub and butterfly. Does it seem likely Crosbie and Lily will in the end marry?
This time, as the novel progresses, I begin to see more trajectories in the ever-expanding network of characters and their places (social and geographical). Triangulating the Great and Small Houses in Allington is Mrs Roper's Lodging House, in Burton Crescent London. This venue is definitely a lower rung on the social ladder, yet perhaps an interesting corollary of various intrigues around money and marriage to the Allington scene. And now we have a Courcy Castle on Crosbie's horizon (with the upper-crust sisters with their fancy names Margaretta and Alexandrina).
I'm still interested in potential widow power, too, and so far, we have at least three widows--Dale, Eames, Roper.
Some logistical matters about this blog: a few people have asked how to post. Underneath each main entry, at the bottom, is information about the date and time of the post followed by "Comments" with a number before it. If you click on "Comments" area, you'll then get a screen with a box for leaving a comment. If you don't have a Google Blogger identity already, you'll be prompted to create one. And others have asked for the reminder messages whenever I post. I'm limited to ten email addresses, but will forward on to anyone else these posts.
Next week, chapters 13-15, for January 1863.
Until then,
Serial Susan
3 comments:
Chapters 10, 11, & 12
Burt
We seem to keep gaining more characters – and only time will tell us if any apparently minor ones assume importance to our story.
At this point I continue to wonder why the author continues to devote so much time and apparent approval to Eames. To date, I can find not one redeeming quality in him. His background is humble and poor, he is not bright or witty, he is terribly dull, and he has monumentally poor judgement. He has no original or lofty thoughts or goals, only a fatalistic love for an unattainable woman. I really hope that Trollope is not going to give bright, delightful, lovely Lily to him at the end!
Also, why so much time devoted to that dud, Cranell? Another dull, stupid, terribly ordinary nobody. Why should he concern us on and on?
Bernard may not be the type of man we can admire, but there is no pretence. He tells it like it is, does not try to fool anybody, visibly enjoys his two important connections and fine future. In proposing to Bell, he knew exactly what and why he was doing it, made no attempt to embellish his motives and actions.
Crosbie, on the other hand, is an unprincipled, opportunistic scoundrel that uses people and situations. He is strictly a taker, not a giver! He is not satisfied to admit to himself his true motives, but constantly is trying to rationalize doing what suits his selfish self. Lily is much too good for him, poor little naïve country girl without an ounce of malice, deceit --- or the faintest idea what she has gotten herself into with Crosbie.
Trollope continues to be great fun with his comments, asides, and analogies:
P 114 – the moth and the flame.
P 115 – the naval warfare terminology and wonderful presentation of the event
P 118 – Paris and the siege of Troy
I enjoy the many characters and plot lines in Victorian Novels – but they made my wife retreat into non-fiction!
Well, I'm getting prepared for characters to start changing, and I may end up finding Eames more likable! For me, his background could be a plus, but it's the ease with which Amelia drew him in that bothered me. But I like that in Chapter 10 he took his obligation to her seriously.
I am interested in getting to know both Mrs. Dale and the Squire better. The Squire's thoughts that he is glad his brother's widow is able to use his Little House make me like him better, and the hint that if they "had known more than they did of each other's hearts and minds they might have loved each other better" makes me wonder whether there is some foreshadowing here.
I was thinking that the economy of these characters is pretty important to them, even if it's not as important as Douglass's struggles, but actually, the social and economic justice involved in this novel so far doesn't extend to people who are truly poor. Mrs. Roper and Mrs. Eames may be living on the edge of losing their homes, but they are still in a class with a certain amount of ease. I wonder what percentage of England's population at this time was living at an income below that of Mrs. Roper and Mrs. Eames.
I was struck by the way that people misunderstand each others' metaphors because they have such different ideas of social interaction, in part because of their economic status. Like Susan, I was struck that Lily compares herself to a butterfly who used to be a grub. It was interesting that she sees the butterfly as connected to her marital/loved status: she'll be fully developed when she is married. But Adolphus thinks more along the lines that I'm used to when thinking of a "social butterfly"--and that a woman as butterfly is antithetical to a married state. And, in that chapter, with their different notions of the relationship of beauty and fulfillment to marriage, Lily does seem able to suffer more, in lines with what Julia was saying that women are able to suffer more. Indeed, most of the men so far don't seem willing to suffer at all, with the exception of Eames, which does seem to set him apart from the other men so far. He may be a partial hero, and I may still find him irritating, but he's more of a hero than the other men we know much about!
I want to start reading 4 chapters a week! But I'll try to stick to 3 for now . . . .
I am enjoying the novel, but am not particularly inspired to say anything. Therefore, it seems a good time to make the following general observation:
I find this serial reading experience to be very different from Dombey and Son (I skipped Drood). I admit that I only kept up with the serial reading approach to Dombey for the first half. However, that was enough for me to observe that most installments felt like satisfying portions. Clearly, they were all parts of a greater whole, and could not have stood on their own. But, nevertheless, each installment had a definite shape to it. The beginnings were usually significant turning points or arrivals, and the endings usually brought some kind of small close or some kind of significant introduction to be elaborated next time. Also, we often noted a parallel flow from one installment to the next.
I find nothing of that kind here. In this book, each installment just seems to be the next three chapters, period. I don't find that the individual installments have their own independent shape or coherence.
What do you think?
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