Dear Serial Readers,
What a stupendous, show-stopping end to this installment! Often weddings are foreclosed from Victorian narratives (i.e., "Reader, I married him"). But in this case, Dickens goes all out (including some text from the marriage service itself) with a very theatrical performance of the wedding day, the entire chapter rendered in present tense, much like the temporality of the stage. We'd noticed earlier uses of present tense, particularly around Paul's death and funeral (#6), and there are reminders of this death, and the first death of the novel--the death of the first Mrs. Dombey, also in this chapter. I love how Dickens suggests the other-timeness of what are also ordinary, daily events here through his shift in verb tense: death and marriage. The setting of the church weds (pun deliberate) together Paul's baptism and funeral with this ominous marriage. And so many of the elements of theatre are apparent throughout chapter 31, including attention to costume (Dombey's "new blue coat, fawn-coloured pantaloons, and lilac wasitcoat"). Also, like a theatrical prompt script are the pointed stage directions, such as "Mr Dombey leaves his dressing-room" (Oxford 464) or "Now, enters Mr. Carker" (466), or "Forth, in a barouche, ride Mr. Dombey...." (467).
In serial time, the finale chapter of this tenth number is precisely the centerpiece of the entire narrative, the bullseye of the novel's twenty divisions. So I found especially intriguing the constant review (and revue) of a wide range of characters, where so many are named again and again in this one chapter crowded with witnesses of this wedding day, whether guests, participants, bystanders as servants or workers or neighbors. The large canvas of characters in of the Victorian multiplot novel is in full array here. Like a grand theatrical finale, nearly everyone--from Dombey to the pastry-cook--appears and reappears in ranking orders in the course of this present tense performance of the wedding day, from dawn to night, in almost a circular pattern (see one of the final paragraphs on "treading the circle of their daily lives"). Dickens's attention to temporality is exquisite.
There's also an element that's inscrutable on stage: the interior views of specific characters, namely Edith, Florence, and to some extent the nefariously toothy Carker. The first of these passages relates to Edith, from the external view at the church as "the good lady" or bride, but from a narratorial gaze, "There is no trace upon her face, of last night's suffering...." (467) that marks the disparity between internal and exterior perspectives. Dickens negotiates this division through questions in a few notable places: when Carker congratulates Edith (469), when the wedding party arrives at Feenix Halls (473), and then finally Dickens uses interrogative syntax but exclamatory punctuation when Edith departs on her wedding trip to Paris and leaves Florence: "Is Edith cold, that she should tremble! Is there anything unnatural or unwholesome in the touch of Florence...." (477).
The suspense of this entire number intensifies too--we know Edith knows that Florence is the tender young prey of the next marriage plot, and she means to save Florence from her own repeated fate of loveless marriages of convenience by making sure Florence is in her own home, not with her calculating "Cleopatra" of a mother, during Edith's honeymoon trip. Carker's teeth are very sharp indeed, and we know that his big bite is imminent.
I want to mention a possibility for this "Serial Readers" blog. Check out Mousehold Words, a website that offers several Victorian and American serials that are emailed to subscribers on a schedule they choose (weekly, monthly, daily, or some other way). Go to Mousehold Words and then click on "catalog of novels" to see what's available. I would propose for our next novel either "Little Dorrit" (soon to be available online) or, for shorter reading, "The Mystery of Edwin Drood." There are novels available too by several other authors. Even if you prefer to read a book rather than a screen, Mousehold Words deliveries could remind you when to pick up each installment.
Until next time, and part-issue #11, chaps 32-34,
Serial Susan
4 comments:
First of all, greetings to everyone. I thought of you often while reading parts 9 and 10 in South Africa, wishing I could read your comments and share mine, but having very limited internet access. As soon as I returned I read the blogs on 8 and 9, and found my responses were very much in synch with those already posted. I was especially taken, as some of you were, by the way Dickens recycles effective motifs in various novels. I, too, found Edith Granger reminiscent of Lady Dedlock and Louisa Gradgrind Bounderby, and the decay of the Dombey house in London reminded me not only of Miss Havisham's dwelling but also of the scene in *Hard Times* in which Mrs. Sparsit follows Louisa in a rainstorm and her dress, hair, etc. become entangled in weeds and insects. There's a little of Mrs. Sparsit (and possibly, too, Uriah Heep) in Mr. Carker, as well, I think, and I had to read twice to ensure that his weaving a chain in the park where Edith sat was quite accidental--and I'm still not entirely certain of that. I agree wholeheartedly with the comment Joshua sent later regarding the surprise of finding that Edith is not the wicked stepmother after all. The depth and emotional intensity of characters such as Edith and Florence in the midst of the Cuttles and Bagstocks of the novel is also very powerful and even breathtaking at times. As for the "skeleton" dismantling Cleopatra every evening and leaving her a pathetic, decaying, flaccid old shell of a woman--I read that one twice, too, just because it was such a remarkable passage. As for the Native, I was particularly struck by that character in a country where the colonial past is still much in evidence and race is always very close to the surface. My sense is that Dickens portrays the Native sympathetically, Major Bagstock's treatment of him revealing yet another aspect of Joey B's pompous, foolish self-centeredness.
Parts 9 and 10 really have me engaged in this novel. I agree with Susan on the power of the wedding scene, but had not realized (till I read her blog) just how many of the earlier characters Dickens brings together in that chapter. Someone mentioned in an earlier post that serial writing gives Dickens the time and space for detail that he might not have had otherwise. I agree, and believe, too, that such detail is easier for the reader in these manageable sections.
Having read the synopsis on the back of my edition somewhere around part 8, I thought I'd spoiled my reading. But in fact, though I have a general sense of the novel's direction (and nothing that really is much of a surprise), after reading parts 9 and 10 I have no idea how Dickens will bring it about at this point. I look forward eagerly to part 11, and to everyone's comments on this amazing center of *Dombey and Son.*
I was also struck by this part's gathering of many different characters. It's easy for me to forget how densely packed the novel is when we read at this pace, especially given that each issue tends to follow a small handful of characters rather than the whole crew. But now we're reminded of how many narrative threads are still unspooling -- Captain Cuttle, Toots, Carker, Walter, and others. Even if I can guess at how a few things will wrap up (and I might be wrong), there's a lot here that I'm still trying to eagerly piece together.
I'm also struck by how dark some of this is getting, especially the ominous threats of Carker and Mrs. Skewton (with Edith taking a stand to try and defend Florence). It seems different than the earlier fairy-tale sorts of gloom we saw before -- and the scene with Florence watching her childhood fairy-tale home go under construction reinforces this point, I think. The sense of underlying menace is pretty new.
And finally, just a quick note/question about the actual reading process: is everyone else enjoying the routine of this weekly format? I've really grown to like the pattern of knowing that there'll be another 45 pages or so of the novel waiting for me every Monday evening.
To reply to Joshua's question, I am very much enjoying the weekly reading schedule. I do look forward to that 40 or so pages; the number is consistent and manageable, and it forms kind of a nice oasis in my week. I also feel that with a week between parts we are more nearly replicating the sense of leisurely reading that the original readers may have had; perhaps our own lives are speeded up to the extent that our week may feel something like their month (though of course, the Victorians, too, felt that time had speeded up immensely in their day).
Regarding time again, I forgot to mention in my earlier post how poignant I found all those reminders of previous events we had read about in the novel: Fanny's death, Paul's christening, Paul's death. At the time of Paul's death I remember feeling (and I may have written) that here we are so early in the novel, and he's gone. But he never is gone, and he comes up again in fascinating ways: Dombey's tenderness toward Diogenes, for example, when he realizes he had been Paul's companion. Those early events seem long ago, in our reading as in life, and yet they remain present and compelling, as in life, as well.
I reluctantly add a comment at this late date, but I just wanted to comment briefly on the wedding scene. Susan has beautifully described the theatricality of all the different characters and sectors or communities of characters preparing for and experiencing the nuptials each in its own way. At the same time that I was enjoying this theatricality, I also enjoyed the accuracy and even naturalism of Dickens' portrayal of the servants' partying. The extreme enthusiasm, bonhomie, and affection for all that so often erupt around events like weddings is convincingly and authentically portrayed here. Even better is the description of the deflation that comes after the emotional and alcoholic intoxication have subsided--suddenly it's all about emotional distance, regret, and lethargy.
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