Dear Serial Readers,
To begin by responding to last week's conversation--I admit I'm stymied by this novel so far, like Plotaholic's "bad faith" suspicion. I agree with Kari that Lucilla's ambitions to enter "social politics" through her community organizing of the Thursday Evening affairs resemble Glencora's social hostess work in Trollope's Palliser novels (a model or companion series for Oliphant's). But I'm less convinced that the tone of the novel prompts amusing affection for Lucilla with her domestic campaign, her warfare in a teacup. So tiresome becomes the repetition of Lucilla's professed mission to give comfort to dear papa who seems not to need or desire it. Is this refrain meant to convey something like gentle ridicule? I cannot say that I admire or even feel terribly interested in Lucilla's machinations, although I find the attention to decorative renovations (the use of green that suits Lucilla's appearance) in concert with the reshaping of Grange Lane society intriguing. But for all these strategems, including her deft handling of Tom's proposal, it's inevitable that she will marry someone by the end, and that someone is likely to be cousin Tom. This is rank speculation, dear Plotaholic and like-minded readers! I have never read this novel!
The characters I'm most drawn to are the Lake sisters. Here is where Oliphant best sketches the finer points of class distinction in Carlingford. I loved the detail that Barbara's six-times washed muslin comes off as a very different shade of white than Lucilla's pristine frock. More compelling than Lucilla's so-called devotion to papa is Barbara's confused feelings of resentment and cautious ambition, her mixture of "fright" and "spite" or "shyness" and "temper." And I also liked the fancy that the aspiring young MP Mr Cavendish could become her own private hero--that this dream springs from the novels Barbara reads. Lucilla does deserve credit here for the "heterogeneous elements" that she draws together for these Thursday Evenings.
A few other favorite details from this segment seem directed in different ways to the question of women as agents and objects of looking: the Brown sisters' photographic glass-house next door facilitates Lucilla's camera-ready poses and Rose Lake as "the little Mistress of the Design School" who teaches drawing (like her father). Visual appearances, from the Marjoribanks drawing room to the dress and manner and even body (Rose's life classes at the Design School) all warrant self-conscious notice.
But my jury is still out on the title character, whether her frequently remarked "genius" is deserved, whether her energetic social engineering is only frustrated and misdirected energy after all. I just can't quite parse the tone.
Next week: chapters 13-16.
Serially slipping,
Susan
POOR MISS FINCH by Wilkie Collins
26 December 2010
20 December 2010
Miss Marjoribanks 2 (March 1865--chaps 5-8)
Dear Serial Readers,
I am happy to turn the lead for this week's conversation over to ReaderAnn. I'll chime in at some point (overloaded right now in various ways). For next week's #3 installment, chapters 9-12. Thanks to all for contributions--a lively start!
Serial Susan
From Reader Ann:
Lucilla is a complex young woman, I'm just not sure yet quite who. She is, of course, well distinguished by her desire to be a comfort to dear papa. By the end of Chapter Five, she shows attributes of not only a conqueror and ruler, but also a "leader of mankind." So far, if she is not out and out manipulating people and situations, she is engaging in "simple reconnaissance" in route to exercising her will. Still, I am watching and warming to her, like her father as he gets to know his daughter, seemingly
for the first time. Early in Chapter six he bemoans the "blunders of Providence," and by the end is taking tea with a daughter cleaver beyond his wildest dreams. Is it Oliphant¹s gentle, ironic touch that makes Lucilla so likeable, or is it something within Lucilla¹s character that will be only gradually revealed? For my part, I'm crazy for anyone who differentiates "Evenings" from "parties," and knows how to pull off the former.
We meet so many new women, from Miss Barbara Lake, shy, injured,unappreciated, the perfect foil to Lucilla, to the zealot Mrs. Bury and the veiled Mrs. Mortimer whom we may never see again. I love watching how Lucilla responds to the varieties of women, and to the, so far, few men. For all her confidence and intention, she is fearful of something, and vulnerable. A dream about sorry Tom is all it takes for her to steer clear of him in the rudest of ways for someone as socially astute as Lucilla.
I've rarely been so eager see how a plot will thicken. Will her father remain enchanted by her? Will some uncontrollable love interest undo her? Despite Lucilla's persistent claim about the aim of her life, I end up wondering: What is it she really wants?
By the way, like Josh, I noticed the lack of sentimentality around the mother's death, but I didn't stop to be thoughtful about it. I chalked it up instead to the one line about Dr. M, "too busy a man to waste his feelings on mere sentiment."
I am happy to turn the lead for this week's conversation over to ReaderAnn. I'll chime in at some point (overloaded right now in various ways). For next week's #3 installment, chapters 9-12. Thanks to all for contributions--a lively start!
Serial Susan
From Reader Ann:
Lucilla is a complex young woman, I'm just not sure yet quite who. She is, of course, well distinguished by her desire to be a comfort to dear papa. By the end of Chapter Five, she shows attributes of not only a conqueror and ruler, but also a "leader of mankind." So far, if she is not out and out manipulating people and situations, she is engaging in "simple reconnaissance" in route to exercising her will. Still, I am watching and warming to her, like her father as he gets to know his daughter, seemingly
for the first time. Early in Chapter six he bemoans the "blunders of Providence," and by the end is taking tea with a daughter cleaver beyond his wildest dreams. Is it Oliphant¹s gentle, ironic touch that makes Lucilla so likeable, or is it something within Lucilla¹s character that will be only gradually revealed? For my part, I'm crazy for anyone who differentiates "Evenings" from "parties," and knows how to pull off the former.
We meet so many new women, from Miss Barbara Lake, shy, injured,unappreciated, the perfect foil to Lucilla, to the zealot Mrs. Bury and the veiled Mrs. Mortimer whom we may never see again. I love watching how Lucilla responds to the varieties of women, and to the, so far, few men. For all her confidence and intention, she is fearful of something, and vulnerable. A dream about sorry Tom is all it takes for her to steer clear of him in the rudest of ways for someone as socially astute as Lucilla.
I've rarely been so eager see how a plot will thicken. Will her father remain enchanted by her? Will some uncontrollable love interest undo her? Despite Lucilla's persistent claim about the aim of her life, I end up wondering: What is it she really wants?
By the way, like Josh, I noticed the lack of sentimentality around the mother's death, but I didn't stop to be thoughtful about it. I chalked it up instead to the one line about Dr. M, "too busy a man to waste his feelings on mere sentiment."
12 December 2010
Miss Marjoribanks 1 (Feb 1865--chaps 1-4)
Dear Serial Readers,
Welcome back Serial Readers!
So much humor (ironic? sardonic? something else?) here in this opening installment that brings us the remarkable Lucilla Marjoribanks. Of course I'm intrigued by Q. D. Leavis's connection between this heroine and Jane Austen's Emma and George Eliot's Dorothea, but I see far more of Rosamond Vincy than Dorothea. What's an ambitious, capable, intelligent young woman to do, given the limited sphere of domesticity in which she has the opportunity to reign, especially if she wants to be a social reformer of sorts? And given her formal education at Mount Pleasant, where her "active mind" has been "condemned over again to verbs and chromatic scales"? Oliphant's opening chapters almost read like a riff on Ruskin's "Of Queens' Gardens"--even with some garden imagery. Yes, Lucilla seems the consummate arranger, with her light-speed renovations of the drawing-room space which she illuminates. She is "Lucilla" for a reason.
Lucilla has the makings of a strong-minded domestic goddess with a hint of the sensation heroine lurking beneath her determination. In the pages of the same journal, a few years later, Oliphant had this to say about sensation novels: "What is held up to us as the story of the feminine soul as it really exists underneath its conventional coverings, is a very fleshy and unlovely record." I gather Lucilla is a different creature from the sensation heroine who "waits now for flesh and muscles, for strong arms that seize her, and warm breath that thrills her through" (this also from Oliphant's review "Novels"). Perhaps all this libidinal energy is displaced or sublimated through her passion for managing the home. She clearly doesn't relish the prospective visit of her cousin Tom who probably lacks the suitable flesh and muscles Oliphant claims female readers yearn for. Lucilla seems instead to recoil from flesh (about meat on the plate, I'm not sure yet--but I love all the details about Nancy's sauces--gravy-beef and all).
I can't resist a link to a serial novel we've read in these blog pages--Gaskell's WIVES AND DAUGHTERS (the words "wives and daughters" appear in chapter two here). By Feb. 1865 when this novel was launched in Blackwood's, Gaskell's novel, also about a widower doctor and his young daughter, was in its sixth monthly installment. Gaskell's "Hollingford" seems close to Oliphant's "Carlingford," although here Gaskell was echoing Oliphant who'd already published novels, like SALEM CHAPEL, in her Carlingford series.
So the suspense of sorts--will Miss M's Thursday evenings prove "a revolution in the taste and ideas of Carlingford"? We must wait for next time, chapters 5-8.
For those of you who are new to "Serial Readers," I encourage you to post a comment (short is fine--a sentence or two if you like!) in the box at the bottom of this entry where you'll also see a link to other comments, once posted. If you're getting the weekly posts emailed to you, let me know if you don't want your address on this list. Or if you're not getting those posts, let me know if you do want me to add you to that list!
Serially started again,
Susan
Welcome back Serial Readers!
So much humor (ironic? sardonic? something else?) here in this opening installment that brings us the remarkable Lucilla Marjoribanks. Of course I'm intrigued by Q. D. Leavis's connection between this heroine and Jane Austen's Emma and George Eliot's Dorothea, but I see far more of Rosamond Vincy than Dorothea. What's an ambitious, capable, intelligent young woman to do, given the limited sphere of domesticity in which she has the opportunity to reign, especially if she wants to be a social reformer of sorts? And given her formal education at Mount Pleasant, where her "active mind" has been "condemned over again to verbs and chromatic scales"? Oliphant's opening chapters almost read like a riff on Ruskin's "Of Queens' Gardens"--even with some garden imagery. Yes, Lucilla seems the consummate arranger, with her light-speed renovations of the drawing-room space which she illuminates. She is "Lucilla" for a reason.
Lucilla has the makings of a strong-minded domestic goddess with a hint of the sensation heroine lurking beneath her determination. In the pages of the same journal, a few years later, Oliphant had this to say about sensation novels: "What is held up to us as the story of the feminine soul as it really exists underneath its conventional coverings, is a very fleshy and unlovely record." I gather Lucilla is a different creature from the sensation heroine who "waits now for flesh and muscles, for strong arms that seize her, and warm breath that thrills her through" (this also from Oliphant's review "Novels"). Perhaps all this libidinal energy is displaced or sublimated through her passion for managing the home. She clearly doesn't relish the prospective visit of her cousin Tom who probably lacks the suitable flesh and muscles Oliphant claims female readers yearn for. Lucilla seems instead to recoil from flesh (about meat on the plate, I'm not sure yet--but I love all the details about Nancy's sauces--gravy-beef and all).
I can't resist a link to a serial novel we've read in these blog pages--Gaskell's WIVES AND DAUGHTERS (the words "wives and daughters" appear in chapter two here). By Feb. 1865 when this novel was launched in Blackwood's, Gaskell's novel, also about a widower doctor and his young daughter, was in its sixth monthly installment. Gaskell's "Hollingford" seems close to Oliphant's "Carlingford," although here Gaskell was echoing Oliphant who'd already published novels, like SALEM CHAPEL, in her Carlingford series.
So the suspense of sorts--will Miss M's Thursday evenings prove "a revolution in the taste and ideas of Carlingford"? We must wait for next time, chapters 5-8.
For those of you who are new to "Serial Readers," I encourage you to post a comment (short is fine--a sentence or two if you like!) in the box at the bottom of this entry where you'll also see a link to other comments, once posted. If you're getting the weekly posts emailed to you, let me know if you don't want your address on this list. Or if you're not getting those posts, let me know if you do want me to add you to that list!
Serially started again,
Susan
19 November 2010
Next Serial, Coming Soon! Margaret Oliphant's Miss Marjoribanks
Dear Serial Readers,
Instead of Gaskell's CRANFORD, we'll start reading a novel by a new writer for this blog, Margaret Oliphant's MISS MARJORIBANKS, serialized initially in BLACKWOOD's EDINBURGH MAGAZINE from February 1865 to May 1866. It appeared in fifteen monthly installments (with a gap in the January 1866 issue), so we'll take fifteen weeks to read it.
Q. R. Leavis described this novel's Lucilla Marjoribanks as "the missing link" between Austen's Emma and Eliot's Dorothea Brooke, yet "more entertaining, more impressive and likeable than either." This novel is the fourth in a series of seven titled THE CHRONICLES OF CARLINGFORD, but like Trollope's series (CHRONICLES OF BARSETSHIRE, a likely model for this one; we've read one of those--THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON), these novels stand alone and don't require moving through the novels in order.
There are several volume editions available. The Penguin edition (see cover image) provides asterisks to show the serial breaks, but I will also include that information for each upcoming reading segment. You can also find the novel in an electronic version either through Victorian Women Writers Project or the link to the left here. If you know of another online source, please post a comment here about that!
We'll begin our reading in about a month, with the first installment (chapters 1-4)for the week of December 13th (I'll post a comment around that date). We should finish the novel the week of March 21st.
So do get ready, Serial Readers, for this next reading adventure! Pass the news along to anyone who might be interested.
Serially yours,
Susan
Instead of Gaskell's CRANFORD, we'll start reading a novel by a new writer for this blog, Margaret Oliphant's MISS MARJORIBANKS, serialized initially in BLACKWOOD's EDINBURGH MAGAZINE from February 1865 to May 1866. It appeared in fifteen monthly installments (with a gap in the January 1866 issue), so we'll take fifteen weeks to read it.
Q. R. Leavis described this novel's Lucilla Marjoribanks as "the missing link" between Austen's Emma and Eliot's Dorothea Brooke, yet "more entertaining, more impressive and likeable than either." This novel is the fourth in a series of seven titled THE CHRONICLES OF CARLINGFORD, but like Trollope's series (CHRONICLES OF BARSETSHIRE, a likely model for this one; we've read one of those--THE SMALL HOUSE AT ALLINGTON), these novels stand alone and don't require moving through the novels in order.
There are several volume editions available. The Penguin edition (see cover image) provides asterisks to show the serial breaks, but I will also include that information for each upcoming reading segment. You can also find the novel in an electronic version either through Victorian Women Writers Project or the link to the left here. If you know of another online source, please post a comment here about that!
We'll begin our reading in about a month, with the first installment (chapters 1-4)for the week of December 13th (I'll post a comment around that date). We should finish the novel the week of March 21st.
So do get ready, Serial Readers, for this next reading adventure! Pass the news along to anyone who might be interested.
Serially yours,
Susan
19 September 2010
The Moonstone (installments from August 1868), Blake, Cuff, Betteredge, Epilogue
Dear Serial Readers,
At long last, I am back to wrap up this serial reading! I enjoyed the variety of these last installments, from Franklin Blake's continuation, after Jennings' journal, of the story, and then the remarkable Sargeant Cuff's detective work, followed by Candy's letter about Jennings' death, and then--I know at least two of you serial readers were pleased--the return of Gabriel Betteredge as narrator.
I loved how he brings to a near-close the narrative with his ringing endorsement of the prophetic power of fiction (his beloved ROBINSON CRUSOE) as the new secular bible--he mentions his pleasure in pointing this out to Franklin Blake with the feeling that he's "converted" Blake to this new religion of English fiction! Can you imagine someone using this novel in a similar way?
Rather than the colonizing tendencies of Robinson C., this novel ends with a reversal of colonial conquest: the Epilogue describes the Moonstone's global journey as it is returned to its original home in the forehead of the statue of the Hindu god of the Moon from (as Murthwaite mentions) "the bosom of a [English] woman's dress!" But then he concludes with a few provocative questions that perhaps the Moonstone (and whatever else it signifies) may travel again: "Who can tell?"
According to the design of the novel, many can tell! I believe we have not encountered another novel in these screen-pages of "Serial Readers" that includes so many different tellers. I find this variety works well with the serial form.
Some lingering questions: the undisclosed secret of Ezra Jennings' sad life? and the thematic links between him, as outsider, with the wandering Murthwaite, who describes himself as "semi-savage" with hybrid origins, like Jennings. Interesting too that this novel both opens and closes in India, yet most of its settings are in England. I saw some interesting links to a novel that appeared some decades later, namely DRACULA--it also begins and ends in the "East" (Transylvania of Eastern Europe) and it also suggests the power of the colonized to regain and even extend their property and power.
I look forward to your comments on this novel!
My relative silence in these pages/screens suggests that I am compelled to take a recess from "Serial Readers"--the first hiatus in the twenty-eight months of the life of this reading log! Here is my proposal: we will reconvene in the second half of November with the linked stories of Elizabeth Gaskell's CRANFORD, first published in Dickens' HOUSEHOLD WORDS (from Dec. 1851-May 1853). We will begin with the first two installments, which include the first four chapters of most modern editions (through the chap titled "A Visit to an Old Bachelor"). I'll plan to post on these first installments the week of November 15th.
In the long meantime, please enjoy your serial readings and viewings, wherever they may take you! See you here in two months (and before, with all comments on the end of THE MOONSTONE).
Serially stalling,
Susan
At long last, I am back to wrap up this serial reading! I enjoyed the variety of these last installments, from Franklin Blake's continuation, after Jennings' journal, of the story, and then the remarkable Sargeant Cuff's detective work, followed by Candy's letter about Jennings' death, and then--I know at least two of you serial readers were pleased--the return of Gabriel Betteredge as narrator.
I loved how he brings to a near-close the narrative with his ringing endorsement of the prophetic power of fiction (his beloved ROBINSON CRUSOE) as the new secular bible--he mentions his pleasure in pointing this out to Franklin Blake with the feeling that he's "converted" Blake to this new religion of English fiction! Can you imagine someone using this novel in a similar way?
Rather than the colonizing tendencies of Robinson C., this novel ends with a reversal of colonial conquest: the Epilogue describes the Moonstone's global journey as it is returned to its original home in the forehead of the statue of the Hindu god of the Moon from (as Murthwaite mentions) "the bosom of a [English] woman's dress!" But then he concludes with a few provocative questions that perhaps the Moonstone (and whatever else it signifies) may travel again: "Who can tell?"
According to the design of the novel, many can tell! I believe we have not encountered another novel in these screen-pages of "Serial Readers" that includes so many different tellers. I find this variety works well with the serial form.
Some lingering questions: the undisclosed secret of Ezra Jennings' sad life? and the thematic links between him, as outsider, with the wandering Murthwaite, who describes himself as "semi-savage" with hybrid origins, like Jennings. Interesting too that this novel both opens and closes in India, yet most of its settings are in England. I saw some interesting links to a novel that appeared some decades later, namely DRACULA--it also begins and ends in the "East" (Transylvania of Eastern Europe) and it also suggests the power of the colonized to regain and even extend their property and power.
I look forward to your comments on this novel!
My relative silence in these pages/screens suggests that I am compelled to take a recess from "Serial Readers"--the first hiatus in the twenty-eight months of the life of this reading log! Here is my proposal: we will reconvene in the second half of November with the linked stories of Elizabeth Gaskell's CRANFORD, first published in Dickens' HOUSEHOLD WORDS (from Dec. 1851-May 1853). We will begin with the first two installments, which include the first four chapters of most modern editions (through the chap titled "A Visit to an Old Bachelor"). I'll plan to post on these first installments the week of November 15th.
In the long meantime, please enjoy your serial readings and viewings, wherever they may take you! See you here in two months (and before, with all comments on the end of THE MOONSTONE).
Serially stalling,
Susan
08 September 2010
The Moonstone (installments from July 1868), Blake's narrative, Ezra Jennings' journal
Dear Serial Readers (and non-readers),
Many of us regular serialists have fallen behind due to the season! I am determined though to post on the final installment, which is short, for next time. I am also considering taking a brief recess from this serial reading, and would love to know if a month off would be disastrous? Or we could continue, but I'm afraid I'd still need help from other serial readers. Next up is one we've considered before: Gaskell's CRANFORD stories. Let me know what you think about how to proceed--either email me or comment here!
Meanwhile, thanks again to Kari for the following on the July 1868 installments of THE MOONSTONE. For next time, what remains.....
***********************
In looking up Betteredge’s story of the night of the birthday party/diamond disappearance, I was reminded how fond he is of Godfrey, and especially was that night. I’m a little surprised that Miss Clack isn’t fonder of him, because a lot of what Betteredge likes in Godfrey is what Miss Clack likes. But Miss Clack also no doubt notes Betteredge’s greater reliance on Robinson C. than on church.
I was struck, and tried to convey, how little Miss Clack focuses on love—certainly the least loving narrator of all.
I also wanted to go back briefly to last week’s reading and F Blake’s focus on his “manhood”—working it up to get the strength to go see Rachel, and losing it when she tells him she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about him. Wow! Sexual tension! That may be the most open sexual tension I’ve seen in much of our Victorian reading (though I know it often lurks in cupboards and such), and at that moment, Franklin is “almost unmanned.”
I figured Ezra Jennings was trustworthy when F Blake liked him, even though Betteredge calmly says everyone dislikes him. It’s interesting that Ezra’s story is so similar to Franklin’s, in some ways.
I don’t see much about Ezra’s voice that marks him clearly distinctive from other narrators—did anyone else? And one last word: will the diamond be in the buzzard or the Cupid? Any significance to both winged creatures losing their flight?
Many of us regular serialists have fallen behind due to the season! I am determined though to post on the final installment, which is short, for next time. I am also considering taking a brief recess from this serial reading, and would love to know if a month off would be disastrous? Or we could continue, but I'm afraid I'd still need help from other serial readers. Next up is one we've considered before: Gaskell's CRANFORD stories. Let me know what you think about how to proceed--either email me or comment here!
Meanwhile, thanks again to Kari for the following on the July 1868 installments of THE MOONSTONE. For next time, what remains.....
***********************
In looking up Betteredge’s story of the night of the birthday party/diamond disappearance, I was reminded how fond he is of Godfrey, and especially was that night. I’m a little surprised that Miss Clack isn’t fonder of him, because a lot of what Betteredge likes in Godfrey is what Miss Clack likes. But Miss Clack also no doubt notes Betteredge’s greater reliance on Robinson C. than on church.
I was struck, and tried to convey, how little Miss Clack focuses on love—certainly the least loving narrator of all.
I also wanted to go back briefly to last week’s reading and F Blake’s focus on his “manhood”—working it up to get the strength to go see Rachel, and losing it when she tells him she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about him. Wow! Sexual tension! That may be the most open sexual tension I’ve seen in much of our Victorian reading (though I know it often lurks in cupboards and such), and at that moment, Franklin is “almost unmanned.”
I figured Ezra Jennings was trustworthy when F Blake liked him, even though Betteredge calmly says everyone dislikes him. It’s interesting that Ezra’s story is so similar to Franklin’s, in some ways.
I don’t see much about Ezra’s voice that marks him clearly distinctive from other narrators—did anyone else? And one last word: will the diamond be in the buzzard or the Cupid? Any significance to both winged creatures losing their flight?
01 September 2010
The Moonstone (installments from June 1868), Blake's narrative, chaps. 4-8
ReaderAnn returns this week with the following observations. I'm looking for one more lead poster for next week, then I hope to be back on the track for the very last installment of THE MOONSTONE! Thanks to all readers! --Serial Susan
***I'll comment without giving away any new developments in deference to
readers not caught up. Though I will say I have no new sense of who the
thief might be, and I¹m afraid I might end the book not knowing for sure.
In this installment I particularly enjoyed the Franklin Blake chapters, the
voices within voices, if you will. I don't recall other chapters like this
one, though there might have been. Here, through Blake, there is the happy
return, from my point of view, of Betteredge. And from Betteredge's hand,
there is the very, very, very long letter from Rosanna Spearman, whose voice
is entirely believable as the hard-life girl with the crooked shoulder,
hopelessly in love.
I must say I miss Cuff, and I paged back to the Table of Contents to see
when he returns. Sad to say, there will be no more Clack!***
For next time (July 1868): more Blake, chaps 9-10; Ezra Jennings' journal. Only one more installment after that, then.....??
***I'll comment without giving away any new developments in deference to
readers not caught up. Though I will say I have no new sense of who the
thief might be, and I¹m afraid I might end the book not knowing for sure.
In this installment I particularly enjoyed the Franklin Blake chapters, the
voices within voices, if you will. I don't recall other chapters like this
one, though there might have been. Here, through Blake, there is the happy
return, from my point of view, of Betteredge. And from Betteredge's hand,
there is the very, very, very long letter from Rosanna Spearman, whose voice
is entirely believable as the hard-life girl with the crooked shoulder,
hopelessly in love.
I must say I miss Cuff, and I paged back to the Table of Contents to see
when he returns. Sad to say, there will be no more Clack!***
For next time (July 1868): more Blake, chaps 9-10; Ezra Jennings' journal. Only one more installment after that, then.....??
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