Dear Serial Readers,
New York! Interesting that Dickens uses journalists and newspapers as a way to introduce this new country and its crass culture. The Rowdy Journal as "Popular Instructor"--what do we learn from this public face on American culture? I must say that Martin never seemed so appealing as he does now in contrast to the vulgar American folks he encounters. Yet even the rank swindlers like Major Pawkins perhaps have counterparts in the English Pecksniffs and Co. I love the idea of this "elastic country"--lots of space for all sorts and conditions of people. And many details on cultural customs, from food, feminism (Mrs P), and dollars, dollars, dollars. Bevan is an American with a capacity for critical analysis of his country. I found interesting the conversation comparing American and British culture, and enjoyed the pretentious Norrises who are obsessed with British peerage and repulsed by Martin's steerage passage!
It will be interesting to see how Dickens juxtaposes these cultures as the narrative crisscrosses the Atlantic.
Next time: #8, chaps. 18-20.
Serially yours,
Susan
3 comments:
Dickens paints an unflattering portrait of Americans, through everything from their ironic statements about independence and “love of liberty,” to the ghastly scene with the Norrises, Bevan, and MC, when Mr Norris “the son” made a face and dusted his fingers “just as though he had that moment touched a negro, and some of the black had come off upon his hands,” to the love of dollars and celebrity. Hard to challenge. I appreciate Tapley’s rather detached perspective as much as I do Martin’s shock and horror. The bawdy men sit around with their toothpicks and spittoons, “know nothing of national poets, literature and arts,” and—my favorite, are “busy”! “No time for dessert and conversation.” Not a pretty picture, but pretty fun to read.
Hello, all. I'm lagging behind the serial-reading collective, and am currently reading the group's comments on Miss Marjoribanks. I did notice that you were into the American portion of Martin Chuzzlewit, though, and thought I'd recommend Jill Lepore's article, "Dickens in Eden" (New Yorker, 29 Aug 2011), which features a snappy backstory about Dickens' ambivalence toward America (as well as a nifty portrait of 'Dickens camp').
... And for me it's back to Lucilla, the Lake girls, Cavendish, and Tom!
What struck me most about this number was its continual emphasis on revulsion and discomfort—this from a text that is so often untroubled (even fascinated and pleased by) the grotesque. We hear about the lack of water to wash with, the horrible spittoons, and the hypocritical disgust of the Miss Norrises (as Readerann notes) towards any contact with a “negro”—that disgust becoming even more disgusting in turn. I wonder about the strategic emotional effects of these responses, especially since Martin himself is disgustED at the same time that others view him as low and disgustING—a deceiver who claims acquaintance with General Flattock while traveling in steerage, of all things!
Our (and Martin’s) consolation is sherry cobbler, though, which does sound delightful after all the other trials.
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