Dear Serial Readers,
Just as we expected, the "New Mamma" has brought discontent, unhappiness, and even loss of employment to the Gibson home, yet she seems installed there--redecorating and all (of course she deplored the changes done for her)--for the long haul. Her clash with the servants is another class-laced portrait, especially interesting since she'd been a paid domestic employee herself at the Towers. It's difficult to find one shred of appealing quality about her, isn't it? And yet, Clare's shortcomings are really "everyday" ones, so terribly petty. I find compelling Gaskell's everyday ethics about the small stuff--like Gibson taking his meal quickly so he can get to the bedside of a dying patient or like Molly wishing to bring comfort to Mrs. Hamley.
I also am struck by all the fine details of class markers Gaskell explores. Where her earlier novels Mary Barton and North and South explore class conflict between "masters" and "men" in the realm of factory work, this one also has quite a bit to say about the gradations of social class in Hollingford, England. For instance, Clare (or, "Mrs. Gibson" now) claims her new name is a "sad come-down after Kirkpatrick." And there's the classing of food again--this time, it's not just cheese that offends the new Mamma, but also the early dinner hour. How interesting too that the Methodist cook seems to prefer a diet that follows Leviticus restrictions against pork and "swine-flesh" of Jewish dietary laws.
And speaking of Hollingford, I can't help thinking of Middlemarch. I'm finding parallels between these novels, most sharply between the doctors (Gibson, Lydgate) and their unsuitable, selfish, and conspicuously consuming wives (Clare and Rosamond). But Gibson is a different kind of doctor--he's not "Dr Gibson" but "Mr Gibson" in the novel, a title which implies his training. He's a practitioner who treats disease and by doing so cares for the ill, but he does not have the prestige of a physician who actually diagnoses the disease--that's why Dr. Nicholls, "the great physician of the county," is called in to confirm Gibson's fear about Mrs Hamley. (By the way, another proper name with real-life echoes: "Nicholls" was the name of Charlotte Bronte's husband, someone Gaskell wrote about in her biography of Bronte). Eliot's novel has much to say about medical reform, but I find that Gaskell seems to focus on palliative care--"to make the last struggle easier" as Molly puts it--or bringing comfort at the end of life not just to the dying but to the family.
Kari made a comment last time that suggests that Gaskell is rather gentle with her handling of suspense. I am interested in this question because suspense seems also a technical necessity for a serialized novel--what else would compel readers to go for the next issue of the magazine? What is the nature of suspense in this novel, then? We know that Mrs. Hamley is going to die before long. And we know that Cynthia will return and there will be some complications here between her and her mother and possibly Preston's interest in her, which of course Clare will dislike immensely. And the Hamley brothers will return now from Cambridge--Osborne a big disappointment, but also what's up with him? There are hints that there's more going on with his life than his parents know. He's turned into more of an adventurer than a scholar, with his knowledge of London entertainment and Continental travels. And Roger, the second son, who we can guess will increasingly become the hero? So what kind of suspense is this? How is your curiosity piqued or fed within and between installments?
Next time, chapters 18-20.
Serially yours,
Susan
5 comments:
I agree only partly with Susan's observation that Mrs. Gibson's concerns are petty. Certainly preoccupations with servants and meal times are of surface importance, but her misunderstanding of how and when her husband wishes to eat and her blockheadedness about Molly's own attachment to her father show a sad gulf of understanding between Mr. and Mrs. Gibson. She does not "get" him and he does not "get" her. And how could they? They barely know each other. I find Mrs. Gibson a very scarey character--she is a snake, as has been pointed out. Her surface friendliness masks a meanness to Molly that has been present from Chapter One. (That "sleepy" chapter is filled with foreboding. I found it almost painful to read about how Clare treated Molly way back then, when she didn't even know her and when she thought she was being kind to the little girl.)
Mr. Gibson is an emotional dunderhead too, of course. And that provides a striking contrast to how he is with his patients. He cares a lot for them. True, he is not a Dr. Lydgate--but he cares deeply in a professional sense. He cares deeply for Molly, too, but he does not know how to show it--at least, not when "the chips are down." His turning away from Molly at a crucial moment--when he tells her of his impending marriage in Chapter 10--is extremely important. That is when she closes the door on childhood and learns what will be required of her as an adult. She learns then how to bury her emotions, how to be what others want her to be--as Roger also has tried to teach her. (I like Roger, though, and don't mean to imply that he is a villain. But everyone seems to want Molly to grow up and not show her true feelings about anything.) Only Mrs. Hamley is prepared for let Molly share her feelings.
As Susan noted before, I was also struck by the variability of women characters' proper names in this novel. As it especially concerns my dissertation theme, I paid much attention to how names changed several times for major characters, especially for Hyacinth Clare (now Mrs. Gibson). Earlier in chapter 10, Clare claims that her name is a "pretty" "romantic" name when she discusses how Gibson should address her after the proposal. She wants him to call her "Hyacinth" instead of Clare because the latter reminds her of "being a governness" in the past. But later, Mr.Gibson confesses to her daugher Molly that he dislikes the name "Hyacinth" ("the silliest name I ever heard of" ) and prefer "plain Molly." Later, Lady Harriet also likes the name of "Molly Gibson" as she thinks of it as "homely names."
So I think that impressions of names --if there is such a thing--are closely linked to the character stability/respectability in this novel. So the narrator changes Clare's names/titles so often from Clare to Hyacinth and to Mrs. Gibson while Molly and Mr. Gibson remain the same throughout the narrative.
Generally, I think names are so important in this novel --How to name her new mother for Molly as well as how to be "renamed" after Clare's marriage, etc.
Finally, Miss Eyre and Dr. Nicholls also reminded me so much of Bronte's heroine and her husband. This intrigues me so much as I dwell on the close relationship between Gaskell and Bronte in my research.
I'm getting to this late, but I think that Susan's questions about suspense are really important. I wonder if we can understand the serialized novel as offering variations on a form? That is, we all know there's a marriage plot, upcoming death, heroes to find, maybe some false heroes to be unmasked (Osborne is "living up" to expectations here), and so on. It seems like the fun is in seeing how this particular novel negotiates these challenges. That might help explain why it's always a pleasure to read this every week, even though we have a pretty good sense of where things are headed. Are we meant to appreciate execution and not novelty? That's how I've been reading this, anyway.
joshuataft said..
"Are we meant to appreciate execution and not novelty? That's how I've been reading this, anyway."
I agree, and personally I think it's just as pleasurable to appreciate fine craftsmanship and execution than be swept along by suspense. I've never been one to avoid spoilers, because when reading novels I prefer to appreciate the artistry of the journey, and not base my enjoyment solely on the surprise of the destination. In some works, suspense is a powerful tool to propel the readership forward, in others it is perhaps secondary to the deft (though not novel) handling of narrative and characters.
I'm logging in quickly just to say that the suspense is keeping me reading along regularly, even when I haven't been able to post every week.
I was interested this week in the inversion of what one might expect of a mother/daughter relationship. Mrs. Gibson consistently seems childish and unreasonable--especially in the final episode in which she "changed her mind about giving [Molly] the gown, and thought now that she should reserve it for Cynthia" (p. 208)--whereas Molly appears again and again to be the mature, level-headed female presence in the household. Clare's power-plays don't seem all that different from my 4-year-old daughter's cohorts' constant refrain of "you're not my friend" or "you're not coming to my birthday" whenever they disagree! It seems certain that Cynthia will add yet another dimension to these already strained female relations, and I'm looking forward to what that will look like.
And just to add another connection with a George Eliot novel--this plot is beginning to remind me of the brothers in Silas Marner. I'm wondering if we'll see something similar with Osborne's hidden life....
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