POOR MISS FINCH by Wilkie Collins

POOR MISS FINCH by Wilkie Collins

02 February 2009

The Small House at Allington--chaps 13-15 (Jan 1863)

Dear Serial Readers,

There was an "appreciations" piece in the New York Times last week that asserts: "John Updike may well turn out to have been America's Anthony Trollope. This is high praise. They both wrote dozens of novels--including interlinked sets--and both worked at writing as if it were a kind of cobbling, a sometimes magical job to which they went deliberately each day. "
I haven't read Updike often or recently enough to be able to offer an opinion about this comparison, but I'm curious if any of you Serial Readers see a resemblance? Certainly the linked novels and approach to writing don't seem particularly distinctive, so it must be something else.

But the "cobbling" comment reminds me of Maura's observation about Trollope's installments in contrast to Dickens's clearly crafted ones. Here I'm tempted to use Trollope's own contrast between his (half) heroes Crosbie and Eames, the first rather "thoughtless"(at least in relation to Lily) and the second "thoughtful" if not always eloquent or successful. I don't think Trollope's serial writing is truly "thoughtless" or haphazard (nor Crosbie's character), but there is something less obviously worked over or thoroughly shaped, like Dickens's writing. But then, some might find this immediacy a virtue, and certainly a particular style of realism. I also might compare Trollope's writing to blogging with its quick tempo. although the narrator's intrusions seem more plentiful and more expansive than Dickens's. With Dickens's serial installments, I was always conscious of his shifting between subplots and moods within each three or four chapter set, but there's less evident diversity of this kind in Trollope. Thanks Maura for this question. Anyone else?

Finally, what about that Johnny Eames? It seems like Trollope is setting up Crosbie's fall and Eames's rise in Lily's marriage plot to me. At least, Crosbie appears increasingly less worthy of her--we learn that he "hardly understood the depth of her character," and that he is not "deep enough" to do so. Yet hobbledehoy Johnny ponders a good deal and even has sense enough to be "terribly afraid of Amelia Roper." But--can you forgive him? How are your views adjusting around these two clerks?

Next time, chapters 16-18.

Serially speculative,
Susan

3 comments:

Theresa Rebeck said...

I have a sneaking suspicion that Dickens, with his crisper and more theatrical characterizations left less room for surprising himself in the writing. When we meet Uriah Heep, we know in fact in that very moment--because Dickens did--the nature of his twisted heart. I think Trollope follows his characters around more and allows himself to be surprised by what they do. That is not to say that there are not surprises a plenty in the moves of a Dickens novel. But they center more on event and language, I think. I just think that Trollope's characters grow into their identities as the novel progresses, that Trollope doesn't quite know them right away. This may or may not be true of Updike, I didn't read him very much because I found his women unconvincing. Unlike Trollope!

Maura said...

Ironically, after my last post noting the casualness (compared to Dickens) of Trollope’s installments, we read an installment that to my mind is discrete, coherent, and very satisfying.

We begin with the visiting party riding up the High Street and across the market square. Even though there have been earlier visits, what is pictured here is closer to a parade or a royal progress. Lily is envied and enjoys being envied. Her army is going to battle, her ship is going to mid-sea. Trollope creates the sense that a new stage in Lily’s life has truly begun. But—not so fast. The installment ends with a clear break from the life Lily has known for these last several months as Crosbie departs from the scene. And, of course, one gets the sense that this ending may be more final than it initially appears.

Just as the installment is satisfying with its opening and closing, its internal dynamics are also pleasing. We have the obvious parallel between the Eames/Roper and Crosbie/Lily romances. The two men are in parallel situations as each has gotten himself in a romantic predicament, the escape from which may land him in a breach of promise action. The parallel between the two men shifts as we see Eames and Lily giving great thought to the matter; the parallel is now between these two. Eames and Lily are both decisive (Lily moreso obviously). We don’t know the consequence of Eames’ letter; but Lily’s courageous and correct decision is cut off by Crosbie’s—what? Why doesn’t he accept the escape route when it’s offered to him?

I must say that, before this scene, I was not such a big fan of Lily’s. But now I can see (hope?) that she will probably be a wonderful Dorothea type, who will find happiness after some serious but well-intentioned mistakes.

I can’t resist offering two totally irrelevant comments about John Updike. My earliest counter with Updike was when I was twelve years old and gave Couples to my mother for Mother’s Day. I couldn’t understand why she was shocked by the gift, since I had been overhearing her talk to all of her friends about the book. My last encounter with Updike was reading a book of his stories at the time he died. This is the second time in a month an author died while I was reading him. Happily, Trollope is in no such danger.

Julia said...

I too was interested in the parallel "love" stories in this installement. As Maura suggests in her post, the comparison seems simple and straightforward (two men in less than ideal engagements), yet Trollope transforms this into a complex comparison because (as Maura again points out) it isn't so easy in the end to line the characters up into neat categories.

What I found most interesting, however, was the narrator's comments about "last days" at the beginning of Chapter 15. "Spasmodic periods of pleasure, of affection, or even of study, seldom fail of disappointment when premeditated. When last days are coming, they should be allowed to come and glide away without special notice or mention. And as for last moments, there should be none such" (139). Linking this to the ongoing discussion of Trollope vs. Dickens, I wonder whether these same principles might shed light on Trollope's serial installments. Do his installments "glide away" instead of enhancing a "spasmodic period of pleasure"? It's interesting to think about this in terms of these serial installments bleeding into other content within the Cornhill, and also Trollope's interest in the series. The continuation of novels into a series seems to allow the author to avoid "last moments" indefinitely!

Finally, like Susan, I'm reading the end of this chapter as setting the stage for further developments between Eames and Lily.