Dear Serial Readers,
This installment has more than a glimpse of Lucilla's interiority. I was especially taken with the momentous scene where Cavendish comes up to her in the street (chap 34) and the sense of anger and regret on each respective side that this match cannot come off. Here we learn that Lucilla's heart "fluttered" more than once, as Cavendish is on the brink of some kind of proposal or love confession. But propriety makes her follow on the course she's established, and she tells her favorite imposter (and brother of the mimic) that she hopes he marries Barbara. All this happens with her throat contracting, her heart fluttering, and with many explicit and pregnant "pauses" in her performance of this scene. And then afterward, the sense of a lost opportunity--Lucilla "a little sad in the solitude of her genius" with her unappreciated sacrifice. That she might have married Cavendish after all and rally to the great challenge of being a political wife--a "position which pleased her imagination, and suited her energies, and did not go against her heart," but instead she acts according to social laws that dictate she must marry within or above her class. Cavendish reminds me of some of Trollope's struggling heroes, Johnny Eames (whom some of us have met in these screen-pages) or even Phineas Finn--created *after* this novel. If only Lucilla could've been Cavendish's Madam Max!
Instead we have Lucilla's self-renunciation of a marriage (and not only is Cavendish the most popular man in Carlingford, he is with this reader too), much like Rose, the little Preraphaelite, forced to give up her "Career" for domestic duties. I can't help but feel "a little sad" and also marvel that Oliphant links the relative sacrifices of these young women, including Barbara, with her gorgeous voice and fiery passions, whose disappointment in love motivates her to turn to governessing.
Otherwise, I have been thinking about the staginess of these scenes, especially those that take place in the Marjoribanks drawing room, like the Archdeacon's encounter with Mrs. Mortimer, under the watchful eye of Lucilla as director, who has set up this reunion, and then goes on to provide all the necessary props for the wedding. But the walking scene with Cavendish gives the hint that perhaps her social artwork, genius that she has for it, does leave something to be desired.
I was intrigued by the final chapter, a reflexive commentary on the progress of the story and the shift to the second phase of Lucilla's career--"amid mists of discouragement, and in an entire absence of all that was calculated to stimulate and exhilarate..." Oliphant's realism indeed, especially on the subject of women's careers--whether the artist class of Grove Street or the elites of Grange Lane.
The strong chord of this segment seems about women's wasted talents and surrendered desires. Not just a "little" sad.
For next time, chaps. 37-39 for installment 11--only four more after this (15 in all).
Recommendations for the next serial? I had suggested Eliot's first fiction, "Scenes of Clerical Life," but am eager for other suggestions!
Serially sad,
Susan
POOR MISS FINCH by Wilkie Collins
Showing posts with label Trollope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trollope. Show all posts
12 February 2011
18 January 2009
The Small House at Allington--chaps 7-9 (Nov 1862)
Dear Serial Readers,
Julia's comment about the illustrations reminded me of a few I found on the internet. This one (see sidebar) comes with the caption, "The Beginning of Troubles," the title of Chapter 7. However, I thought the usual format for the installments in The Cornhill was a Millais illustration as a frontispiece at the start of the set of three chapters, but not necessarily for the chapter that opens the monthly segment. In any case, any thoughts about where this image (see sidebar) matches the narrative?
This week's portion makes me think of simultaneity--how the narrator points out the mental states of characters at the same time as their external behavior and as ongoing conditions that we readers are able to see, thanks to the narrator's reflections. But how well are characters able to comprehend the mental states of their companions? Trollope provides different instances of simultaneity here. To provide one of many examples: we learn about Crosbie's "melancholy fits" and his concern about his pinched finances given his impending marriage. Then the narrator shifts to Lily at the "Small House," with the question, "And what was the state of Lily's mind at the same moment...?" So we're primed to think of correspondences in this way too.
Then there are the narrator's interventions, his thoughts on the players and actions in the story he's unfolding. This narrator has such presence in the novel, as some of you have pointed out! He has no pity for the "Mrs Boyces," he lets us know, and he thinks there's some lurking aggression behind the polite phrase, "It is nice of you to come early," delivered by Lily to Mrs Eames before the other guests have arrived for the party. These too might be considered a kind of simultaneity, a running commentary on characters and their actions (whether internal or external) as they occur.
I was thinking of other kinds of simultaneities too even beyond the installment. In this issue (as well as the previous two) of The Cornhill, George Eliot's serial novel Romola was also appearing. How did readers juggle the simultaneity of different plot lines and casts of characters, one in a contemporary English country setting, the other in late 15th-century Florence?
What else are you reading now? What is the simultaneity of your reading practice these days?
For next week, chapters 10-12.
Simultaneously Serial,
Susan
Julia's comment about the illustrations reminded me of a few I found on the internet. This one (see sidebar) comes with the caption, "The Beginning of Troubles," the title of Chapter 7. However, I thought the usual format for the installments in The Cornhill was a Millais illustration as a frontispiece at the start of the set of three chapters, but not necessarily for the chapter that opens the monthly segment. In any case, any thoughts about where this image (see sidebar) matches the narrative?
This week's portion makes me think of simultaneity--how the narrator points out the mental states of characters at the same time as their external behavior and as ongoing conditions that we readers are able to see, thanks to the narrator's reflections. But how well are characters able to comprehend the mental states of their companions? Trollope provides different instances of simultaneity here. To provide one of many examples: we learn about Crosbie's "melancholy fits" and his concern about his pinched finances given his impending marriage. Then the narrator shifts to Lily at the "Small House," with the question, "And what was the state of Lily's mind at the same moment...?" So we're primed to think of correspondences in this way too.
Then there are the narrator's interventions, his thoughts on the players and actions in the story he's unfolding. This narrator has such presence in the novel, as some of you have pointed out! He has no pity for the "Mrs Boyces," he lets us know, and he thinks there's some lurking aggression behind the polite phrase, "It is nice of you to come early," delivered by Lily to Mrs Eames before the other guests have arrived for the party. These too might be considered a kind of simultaneity, a running commentary on characters and their actions (whether internal or external) as they occur.
I was thinking of other kinds of simultaneities too even beyond the installment. In this issue (as well as the previous two) of The Cornhill, George Eliot's serial novel Romola was also appearing. How did readers juggle the simultaneity of different plot lines and casts of characters, one in a contemporary English country setting, the other in late 15th-century Florence?
What else are you reading now? What is the simultaneity of your reading practice these days?
For next week, chapters 10-12.
Simultaneously Serial,
Susan
13 January 2009
The Small House at Allington--chaps 4-6 (Oct 1862)
Dear Serial Readers,
We're off to a roaring start with Trollope! I want to forecast some guest blogging on this novel in the next months including some Trollope scholars (of the well-published variety) and a prominent contemporary playwright who knows Victorian literature inside out! I'll try to give advance notice.
I agree with Burt that Trollope's narrator's intrusions are especially interesting--and prevalent early on in this novel. For instance, the long commentary on the "hobbledehoy." Joshua's post about Trollope's sympathetic eye toward flawed characters also seemed to anticipate this disquisition on the narrator's favorite hobbledehoy Johnny Eames in the first chapter of this second installment. It's clear that Trollope has a penchant for awkward (even borderline--with all the attendant blushing) masculinity in many of his novels, and I can appreciate Eames as part of a larger chorus of Trollopian hobbledehoys elsewhere. This hobbledehoy theory of the modern hero extends the earlier assertion about a "fraction of a hero"--a downsized masculinity from traditional (chivalric, muscular Christian?) proportions. So, is there a feminine counterpart lurking somewhere in these pages? Perhaps Lily?
And Trollope sets this darling hobbledehoy against the "mere" Appolonian Crosbie. And here's a clear difference from Austen (and perhaps a link to Eliot): the narrative steps into a marriage engagement (Lily and Crosbie) early on, but one that's set up to be, well, broken or suspended? Perhaps the Crosbie/Eames comparison also reflects what Mary mentioned about the tension between constancy and change. The comparison of these men also has class implications, like Johnny Eames's two love interests: Lily (the socially superior love he cannot declare) and Amelia Roper, the landlady's daughter (the love he declares rather precipitously, under the influence). Interesting too that these various characters are linked to either the countryside estate or the modern city.
Related to this classing of marriage plot options, one of the most humorous and telling elements of this installment for me was the use of initials--"About L.D." for chapter five and for Lily Dale did make me think of the abbreviations for pounds and pence which Trollope then makes explict in the words of Johnny on "L.S.D." Trollope isn't shy about disclosing the material interests of marriage plotting--money and social status (subject to change). And this reminds me of Maura's comment about Mrs Dale and widows who need to concern themselves with fiscal matters. Clearly Lily's engagement to the "mere clerk" pleases her relatives, especially her mother, even if we have a sense of complicated feelings from Bell on this match. Some of my all-time favorite Trollope heroines are widows (Mrs Greenow in Can You Forgive Her? and Mrs. Hurtle, the fiesty American widow in The Way We Live Now, and Madame Max Goesler) in part because they also exercise more power and knowledge than their younger pre-marital heroine counterparts. These widows are also outsiders in some sense or other (class, nation, race) to traditional elite Englishness. So I'm also hoping Mrs Dale proves THE widow of this series and that her eating alone or neglecting her peas leads to interesting developments.
Looking forward to more: #3 for next week (chaps 7-9).
Yours in installments,
Serial Susan
We're off to a roaring start with Trollope! I want to forecast some guest blogging on this novel in the next months including some Trollope scholars (of the well-published variety) and a prominent contemporary playwright who knows Victorian literature inside out! I'll try to give advance notice.
I agree with Burt that Trollope's narrator's intrusions are especially interesting--and prevalent early on in this novel. For instance, the long commentary on the "hobbledehoy." Joshua's post about Trollope's sympathetic eye toward flawed characters also seemed to anticipate this disquisition on the narrator's favorite hobbledehoy Johnny Eames in the first chapter of this second installment. It's clear that Trollope has a penchant for awkward (even borderline--with all the attendant blushing) masculinity in many of his novels, and I can appreciate Eames as part of a larger chorus of Trollopian hobbledehoys elsewhere. This hobbledehoy theory of the modern hero extends the earlier assertion about a "fraction of a hero"--a downsized masculinity from traditional (chivalric, muscular Christian?) proportions. So, is there a feminine counterpart lurking somewhere in these pages? Perhaps Lily?
And Trollope sets this darling hobbledehoy against the "mere" Appolonian Crosbie. And here's a clear difference from Austen (and perhaps a link to Eliot): the narrative steps into a marriage engagement (Lily and Crosbie) early on, but one that's set up to be, well, broken or suspended? Perhaps the Crosbie/Eames comparison also reflects what Mary mentioned about the tension between constancy and change. The comparison of these men also has class implications, like Johnny Eames's two love interests: Lily (the socially superior love he cannot declare) and Amelia Roper, the landlady's daughter (the love he declares rather precipitously, under the influence). Interesting too that these various characters are linked to either the countryside estate or the modern city.
Related to this classing of marriage plot options, one of the most humorous and telling elements of this installment for me was the use of initials--"About L.D." for chapter five and for Lily Dale did make me think of the abbreviations for pounds and pence which Trollope then makes explict in the words of Johnny on "L.S.D." Trollope isn't shy about disclosing the material interests of marriage plotting--money and social status (subject to change). And this reminds me of Maura's comment about Mrs Dale and widows who need to concern themselves with fiscal matters. Clearly Lily's engagement to the "mere clerk" pleases her relatives, especially her mother, even if we have a sense of complicated feelings from Bell on this match. Some of my all-time favorite Trollope heroines are widows (Mrs Greenow in Can You Forgive Her? and Mrs. Hurtle, the fiesty American widow in The Way We Live Now, and Madame Max Goesler) in part because they also exercise more power and knowledge than their younger pre-marital heroine counterparts. These widows are also outsiders in some sense or other (class, nation, race) to traditional elite Englishness. So I'm also hoping Mrs Dale proves THE widow of this series and that her eating alone or neglecting her peas leads to interesting developments.
Looking forward to more: #3 for next week (chaps 7-9).
Yours in installments,
Serial Susan
07 January 2009
The Small House at Allington--chaps 1-3 (Sept 1862)
Dear Serial Readers,
One of Trollope's stylistic features is his narrator's addresses to readers--there are many of them even in this first installment. Trollope uses "I" and "we" as if to suggest that the narrator and reader are partners in this telling/hearing of story. The second sentence of the novel begins "Our story...." Much of the first two chapters is exposition, backstory: who are the Dales and why a "small" house at Allington? Trollope delights as much here with establishing his characters ("our Christopher Dale") as places, particularly that titular "Small House."
By the third chapter, I have the decided impression that one character stands out among the rest--Lily Dale, with her "spice of obstinacy" as a hallmark of Trollope's most endearing heroines such as Glencora Palliser or Madame Max. And the narrator is determined that the reader should know at this early stage that "my story will be nothing to him [generic male reader] if he doe not love Lily Dale." What about women readers who love Lily? Aren't they more legion than the presumed men readers? Besides her spicy obstinacy, we learn that she is "queen of the croquet ground" and likes to use slangy vulgar language, much to her more restrained or refined sister Bell's dismay.
Does this portrait of the two Dale sisters living as poorer relations, with their mother, on the Dale estate remind anyone of a Jane Austen novel? But updated--how? Clearly two marriage plots are underway--Bell and Dr Crofts, and then Lily and, well, two possibilities--Johnny Eames and Mr. Crosbie. I couldn't help but think that Lily's complaining about this "mere clerk" may be a telltale sign that she will come to revise this estimation. That there will be more than one suitor also seems evident by the narrator's insistence on the heroes as cut into fragments, with Crosbie as one such "fraction of a hero." Or does this kind of division suggest a different kind of hero, one who is more ordinary than loomingly extraordinary?
Next time, chapters 4-6. After this week, I plan to read on Sundays and post Sundays or Mondays. Looking forward to your comments on this inaugural episode! If you just get your copy, say, next week, you can easily catch up.
Question: If this were a WOVEL (see sidebar item and NPR story), what direction would you like to see the courtship plots take?
Yours in Trollopiana,
Serial Susan
One of Trollope's stylistic features is his narrator's addresses to readers--there are many of them even in this first installment. Trollope uses "I" and "we" as if to suggest that the narrator and reader are partners in this telling/hearing of story. The second sentence of the novel begins "Our story...." Much of the first two chapters is exposition, backstory: who are the Dales and why a "small" house at Allington? Trollope delights as much here with establishing his characters ("our Christopher Dale") as places, particularly that titular "Small House."
By the third chapter, I have the decided impression that one character stands out among the rest--Lily Dale, with her "spice of obstinacy" as a hallmark of Trollope's most endearing heroines such as Glencora Palliser or Madame Max. And the narrator is determined that the reader should know at this early stage that "my story will be nothing to him [generic male reader] if he doe not love Lily Dale." What about women readers who love Lily? Aren't they more legion than the presumed men readers? Besides her spicy obstinacy, we learn that she is "queen of the croquet ground" and likes to use slangy vulgar language, much to her more restrained or refined sister Bell's dismay.
Does this portrait of the two Dale sisters living as poorer relations, with their mother, on the Dale estate remind anyone of a Jane Austen novel? But updated--how? Clearly two marriage plots are underway--Bell and Dr Crofts, and then Lily and, well, two possibilities--Johnny Eames and Mr. Crosbie. I couldn't help but think that Lily's complaining about this "mere clerk" may be a telltale sign that she will come to revise this estimation. That there will be more than one suitor also seems evident by the narrator's insistence on the heroes as cut into fragments, with Crosbie as one such "fraction of a hero." Or does this kind of division suggest a different kind of hero, one who is more ordinary than loomingly extraordinary?
Next time, chapters 4-6. After this week, I plan to read on Sundays and post Sundays or Mondays. Looking forward to your comments on this inaugural episode! If you just get your copy, say, next week, you can easily catch up.
Question: If this were a WOVEL (see sidebar item and NPR story), what direction would you like to see the courtship plots take?
Yours in Trollopiana,
Serial Susan
04 January 2009
Starting Soon: Trollope's Small House at Allington
Dear Serial Readers,
Anthony Trollope's The Small House at Allington appeared in three-chapter monthly installments in The Cornhill Magazine from September 1862 to April 1864. We'll read these serial parts weekly rather than monthly. On this schedule, we'll reach the last installment in May of this year. Reading three chapters a week might occupy you for about an hour, give or take, provided on how fast you read. But generally, Trollope is a quicker "read" than Dickens. The idea here is that this serial novel is your side-dish reading, not your main course fare, particularly if you like to immerse yourself in the world of a novel and read quickly. This serial reading is a different kind of experience. I like to reserve an evening a week for my serial portion, typically Sundays.
Besides your local library, you might secure a copy of this novel via Amazon--used copies for a dollar or so, plus shipping. As with the previous Dickens novels, I'll note which chapters for the upcoming installment: chapters one through three for this first time when you'll meet the Dale sisters, especially the very memorable (among Trollope fans) Lily. Once I post on the installment, please add your own comments. I'm also happy to have anyone else take the lead for a particular week--just contact me or post here that you'd like to write the first comment for the next three chapters.
So spread the word--forward this link! If you'd rather not have these posts forwarded to you each week, just email me. Or if you'd like an email reminder each week, let me know.
Yours until the imminent Trollope launch,
Serial Susan
Anthony Trollope's The Small House at Allington appeared in three-chapter monthly installments in The Cornhill Magazine from September 1862 to April 1864. We'll read these serial parts weekly rather than monthly. On this schedule, we'll reach the last installment in May of this year. Reading three chapters a week might occupy you for about an hour, give or take, provided on how fast you read. But generally, Trollope is a quicker "read" than Dickens. The idea here is that this serial novel is your side-dish reading, not your main course fare, particularly if you like to immerse yourself in the world of a novel and read quickly. This serial reading is a different kind of experience. I like to reserve an evening a week for my serial portion, typically Sundays.
Besides your local library, you might secure a copy of this novel via Amazon--used copies for a dollar or so, plus shipping. As with the previous Dickens novels, I'll note which chapters for the upcoming installment: chapters one through three for this first time when you'll meet the Dale sisters, especially the very memorable (among Trollope fans) Lily. Once I post on the installment, please add your own comments. I'm also happy to have anyone else take the lead for a particular week--just contact me or post here that you'd like to write the first comment for the next three chapters.
So spread the word--forward this link! If you'd rather not have these posts forwarded to you each week, just email me. Or if you'd like an email reminder each week, let me know.
Yours until the imminent Trollope launch,
Serial Susan
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