Dear Serial Readers,
So Lady V. dies suddenly, Rachel has accepted Godfrey's proposal of marriage, but we don't know the contents of that will Lady V. signed, Bruff drew up, and Clack witnessed, but divulged nearly nothing about. So there's some suspense afoot about the impending revelation of that will. I suspect there will be some connection between with the "outrages" against moneylender Luker (a Dickensian pun-name) and Godfrey.
Clack's Tracts! What a hilarious voice this one is--with her sowing those tracts, planting them around Lady V's house and then, after they're all returned, determining to send them in small fragments inside envelopes! I had heard that some read this novel as anti-imperialist, and it does seem that Collins is having a field day with his send-up of Clack's evangelizing, missionary zeal--all her clap-trap about "the true Christian never yields...our mission" and the related "Glorious, glorious privilege" where "we are the only people who are always right." Her Sunday-School Style is such a distinctive way of reading--what she attends to is so different from Betteredge. Again, how characters affect circumstance, or read events.
After my comment last week about how we don't know a master editor of these narratives, I found that answer quite quickly: Clack relays that Franklin Blake has requested her witnessing account and is paying her for it! So we know he has a vested interest in the disclosure of the full truth of what happened, from different eyes/I's.
For next time, the five installments from May 1868: the rest of Clack, chaps 6-7, then the narrative of Bruff, chaps 1-3, then Franklin Blake's, chaps 1-3. So three different narrators next time--should be interesting!
Serially suspicious,
Susan
3 comments:
With all the Clacking, I almost forgot there is still a Moonstone missing and a Sgt. Cuff puzzling out the mystery.
We almost lost Miss Clack’s account, with Mr. Bruff’s careless reference to the devil. But he reformed, and we learned that the Moonstone was delivered to, and is now in the possession of, Mr. (Filthy) Luker in London. I’d love to hear Cuff and Clack together in a room, the latter having “embarked on a career of manifest usefulness.” I loved Clack's voice from the first sentence she uttered, and images such as her scattering “my mercies” on the drawing room floor after the tracts were returned to her are uproarious.
I'm a bit worried about Lady V's death--but I hope she has arranged her will well.
I have been thoroughly enjoying the different voice, too, and also all of the names, Luker included. It led me to notice that Godfrey's name suggests he may be not an apostate, as Miss Clack fears, but indeed free of godliness from the beginning. And Ablewhite! It does seem an anti-colonial name. I looked up "Drusilla," also, which, aside from being the name of Caligula's sister who may have had an affair with him, means "dewy eyed" or "fruitful." Not at all like our Drusilla, I think. However, "clack" is so perfect, for its connotations of chatter and of hard surfaces hitting against each other.
And what could be more delightful than these totally unhelpful--even downright cold-hearted--charities, such as the "Sunday-Sweetheart-Supervision."
I wrote last week that I imagined Miss Clack might have prunes and prisms on the brain and on her lips, but I now don't see her as pursed lipped at all, so I spent time trying to imagine her facial expression, which I imagine as smooth, usually, and full-lipped. She doesn't strike me as hypocritical exactly (as my students would have said by now), just as opportunistic, drawing on those beliefs that will best support the life she has been thrust into.
I also noted that, like Betteredge, Clack is "above reason" (chapter 4) in pursuit of her mission.
I'm with readerann here -- Miss Clack is so much fun that I don't mind letting the mystery simmer for a little while. Her narrative made me laugh out loud more than once. I particularly loved the names of the tracts, especially "Satan in the Hair Brush" (which, if it existed, I'd definitely read).
Franklin Blake's brief commentary on his role as editor is great, too. His description of Clack's narrative as "an instrument for the exhibition of Miss Clack's character" is brilliantly subtle -- we certainly get to understand her character, but not how she'd like us to see her!
Unfortunately, I was having so much fun with Miss Clack that I forgot about stopping after the first five chapters and ended up finishing her narrative. So I guess I'll be looking at a shorter installment next time. I think I can forgive myself for indulging in this wonderful narrative, even at the cost of breaking the serial reading pattern.
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