Dear Serial Readers,
To respond briefly to comments from last week: yes, reading books seems showcased early on in this novel, with Molly's reading Scott, Mrs. Hamley reading Hemans, the squire reading newspapers and journals, Gibson's more eclectic reading diet, and Roger reading "scientific books" in contrast to Osborne's poetry. "Reading" also means studying, in the scholastic sense used at British universities, and at that time "reading" natural history was certainly less common and supported than reading poetry, which I think was probably aligned more closely with philosophy and theology as a fitting course of study for young men at Cambridge preparing to enter the Anglican clergy. The squire mentions to Molly that "they don't take honours in Natural History at Cambridge," an indication of its lower academic status at this time (late 1820s perhaps). I do love the attention to the pleasures of reading immersion--whether Molly being "deep" into Scott's novel or even the pleasures of reading the flora and fauna of the gardens outdoors.
To continue now with this week's installment: while we meet Roger Hamley, we don't see much evidence of his reading nature; the narrator insists that he would not even notice Molly as a "formed beauty" because she is in "a state of feminine hobbledehoyhood." This word jumped out at me, since those of us who read an earlier serial in The Cornhill, namely Trollope's The Small House at Allington, heard much about Johnny Eames's "hobbledehoyhood." And now, the feminine version!
But if Molly at seventeen seems unripe for that romance plot, we have two middle-aged widowed characters, the former governess at the Towers and Molly's father who is primed for a second marriage to untangle "the Gordian knot of domestic difficulties," which include the averted "calf-love" incident. Gaskell gives lots of details of the converging circumstances of, on the one hand, this single father who can't manage his household, and, on the other, Clare Kirkpatrick, the struggling single mother schoolmistress who's already lost several governess positions. While marriage might promise solutions to their respective problems, there are ample hints that other forms of knottiness might lurk on the horizon of such an alliance. Clare's character is not particularly encouraging despite her early kindness when Molly visits the Towers at age 12, and Gibson, we know, is shortsighted in the realm of human complexities not of a medical nature. I do find the subject of second marriages in Victorian novels surprisingly common--"every-day" as the subtitle suggests.
On "invalid" women, I was interested in an implied comparison of Mrs. Hamley and Lady Cumnor, the first, truly ailing from some disease (as well as from inactivity and longing for her beloved son), the second, perhaps hypochondrical due to her social position as a pampered woman of wealth with grown children and little to engage her. Those passages reminded me of Gaskell's treatment of Mrs. Carson as a "do-nothing" lady in her first novel Mary Barton.
Finally, the character who really intrigued me this time is Lady Harriet, the youngest daughter of Lord and Lady Cumnor, who delivers a wry and sharp assessment of the current status of elite female education at home through governesses and masters. I hope to see much more of Lady H. in installments to come!
Next time, only two chapters--10 and 11.
Serially signing off for now,
Susan
3 comments:
Hey, I figured out that it's set in 1825 at first, so this section must be a little later than that, indeed late 1820s as Susan says, or even 1830. Well, the narrator says it was "40 years ago," but was the novel started in 1863? I was thinking 1865, at first, but maybe not.
I, too, find Lady Harriet interesting and attractive, and I had that opinion in the first section, too, during the visit of the ladies to the Towers.
Also, I totally changed my perspective on who is right for Molly: I see now that I am being set up for it to be Roger, and I'm completely ready to ride along on that train.
I'm interested in the practical nature of the "romance" between Clare/Hyacinth and Dr. Gibson. I was disliking her in our earlier encounter when Molly was 12, but now I find myself more sympathetic to her. I am wondering what's up with Cynthia--does Clare dislike her? Or does Cynthia have some awful trait that is about to be revealed? I can't wait.
I do worry for poor Molly as she finds herself with a stepmother, but I expect she can take care of herself ultimately.
I find Wives and Daughters an interesting title, since it focuses on women in relationship, and primarily in relationship to men, though some daughters do have mothers in this novel. In some ways, it doesn't sound like it's really going to be about women, even though it's two female titles. I feel a little jaded by the idea that this novel is about "everyday life"--though of course it is. But who is cleaning the floors? I know I should take the class framework for granted, but it keeps grating on me, at the same time that it's the class I'd rather read about, realistically. And what do you call this class? IT's not the "middle" literally, is it? In the middle ages, we'd call the the merchant class, I think.
Well, I'm having great fun with this novel, and the sections are so short!
Kari--I find Gaskell pays more attention to the working class (and who cleans the floors--probably Bethia who was dismissed--or relocated with a new position)than so many other 19thc writers. At least they have names! Try to find the name of a house servant in an Austen novel. I'm glad you're enjoying this journey!
I was interested in the way this installment developed the Molly plot and the Miss Kirkpatrick/Mr. Gibson plot. I guess since there aren't any real "cliffhangers" from section to section, there's no need to divide up the novel in order to heighten suspense, but I'm intrigued that we seem to be developing both stories pretty much simultaneously. Maybe that helps keep them both fresh in our minds.
I also think it's interesting that the novel's setting up Roger to be a better match than Osborne (so far, at least). Osborne's unimpressive academic performance seems to be a disappointment to his family. I'd been working on the assumption that we're meant to find a poetry-reading character particularly sympathetic, since this is a novel, but Gaskell seems to have a trick or two up her sleeve.
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