POOR MISS FINCH by Wilkie Collins

POOR MISS FINCH by Wilkie Collins

08 September 2010

The Moonstone (installments from July 1868), Blake's narrative, Ezra Jennings' journal

Dear Serial Readers (and non-readers),

Many of us regular serialists have fallen behind due to the season! I am determined though to post on the final installment, which is short, for next time. I am also considering taking a brief recess from this serial reading, and would love to know if a month off would be disastrous? Or we could continue, but I'm afraid I'd still need help from other serial readers. Next up is one we've considered before: Gaskell's CRANFORD stories. Let me know what you think about how to proceed--either email me or comment here!

Meanwhile, thanks again to Kari for the following on the July 1868 installments of THE MOONSTONE. For next time, what remains.....
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In looking up Betteredge’s story of the night of the birthday party/diamond disappearance, I was reminded how fond he is of Godfrey, and especially was that night. I’m a little surprised that Miss Clack isn’t fonder of him, because a lot of what Betteredge likes in Godfrey is what Miss Clack likes. But Miss Clack also no doubt notes Betteredge’s greater reliance on Robinson C. than on church.
I was struck, and tried to convey, how little Miss Clack focuses on love—certainly the least loving narrator of all.
I also wanted to go back briefly to last week’s reading and F Blake’s focus on his “manhood”—working it up to get the strength to go see Rachel, and losing it when she tells him she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about him. Wow! Sexual tension! That may be the most open sexual tension I’ve seen in much of our Victorian reading (though I know it often lurks in cupboards and such), and at that moment, Franklin is “almost unmanned.”
I figured Ezra Jennings was trustworthy when F Blake liked him, even though Betteredge calmly says everyone dislikes him. It’s interesting that Ezra’s story is so similar to Franklin’s, in some ways.
I don’t see much about Ezra’s voice that marks him clearly distinctive from other narrators—did anyone else? And one last word: will the diamond be in the buzzard or the Cupid? Any significance to both winged creatures losing their flight?

1 comment:

readerann said...

I hadn’t thought of the difference in voice between Blake and Jennings until Kari mentioned she thought Franklin’s drier, perhaps driest, among all of the voices. Solemn urgency seems reasonable in the voice of someone suspected, if not accused, as Blake is. Wryness would come only with distance or detachment, which, under the circumstances, may be a long time coming for Blake. At the same time, as his story moves along, he perfectly portrays his tension, and his pain becomes almost comic, as pain will do. His distinction between what he DID and what he thought—his emphasis on the latter—was interesting too. (Must have been his clear-headed French side at work.) Within Blake’s narrative, I got quite involved in the mystery within the mystery. Never mind who took the Moonstone; who gave Blake the opium? Once he started quoting Jennings, there was much to delight in, not least the *inspiring* “Confessions of and English Opium Eater!” And Blake masterfully set up Jennings’ journal, which was in his interest to do, of course.

Happily, with Jennings, we returned to Betteredge too—“…but when Christians take leave of their senses, who is to expect that pencils will keep their points?” and such. What I thought was both hilarious and brilliant was how Jennings (Collins) conveyed Blake’s symptoms of cigarette withdrawal—his pacing and irritation and increasing inability to be alone. I really felt for poor Franklin. And I loved the entire opium experiment simply for Jennings’ industry and demand for precision.