I chose the audiobook of Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles on a whim, having heard its title here and there for ages. I went in without any knowledge of the plot, with no preconceived notions at all. Well, Thomas Hardy took me for quite a ride. I did find it depressing for a while, but the end shocked that right out of me. He really was simply creating more sympathy for our protagonist, it seems.
Don’t be deceived by the charming opening. The scene of Tess’s father learning about his noble ancestry is humorous, and Tess is involved in an old Celtic ceremony—a parade and dance in white dresses—that reminds me of Gabraldon’s Outlander. It’s romantic and even magical-feeling. However, while this scene might help snag readers, it doesn’t so much reflect the rest of the book. Not saying I’d change a word of the beginning, though, as it hooked me too and remains my favorite part of the novel.
I was at first quite impressed with Hardy’s respectful treatment of Tess, feeling that he had such an insight to womanhood that I wondered if ‘Thomas Hardy’ were a pen name for a female author. However, as the book continued, I shook my head, finding it hard to believe that any woman—though undoubtedly there are some—would truly believe her husband right in all things and would so denigrate her own intelligence. Traits that Hardy presents as perfections of womanhood seem undignified, though I’m sure he means the reverse—in a societal sense. On the other hand, given what happens at the end, perhaps he’s making a point about the dangers of such thinking; maybe he’s saying, “It really isn’t such a good idea, this husband-worship that you seem to think it’s so great for women to do.”
In a sense, it was Tess’s extreme mentality—her need to cast people as entirely good or evil—that led to her mind breaking (in a sense) at the end and explains her conduct better. Her love interest was even named ‘Angel’, which aligned with her beliefs in him.
I am not in the least trying to excuse Alec d’Urberville’s crimes against her, and I was far more sorry at her fate than at his. However, Tess blamed Alec for choices that Angel made. She blamed Alec for everything that went wrong in her life, even though he’d possibly saved her family from starvation at one point, which is not nothing. Alec behaved very badly towards her in ways, but he did seem to love her as well.
It was somewhat humorous to me that Thomas Hardy seemed to want so much to argue theology—and sort of did, except that many of his arguments were only alluded to, as if he were too scared of reactions to put them in writing! Not saying he didn’t have good reason for this fear… and one wonders if a publisher toned it way down.
I did find some of the extreme scenes refreshing—maybe in part because of their uniqueness, but particularly because of the oddly morbid-but-not-so-heavy thoughts that accompanied them. When Angel sleepwalks with Tess in his arms, she serenely wonders if he’s going to drown her; she lets him put her in a crypt, and all the while she knows she’s in danger but is more curious than afraid. She trusts him so much, and he is so godlike to her, that even if he were to kill her, she’d think it must be the right thing to happen. The scene is actually uplifting, in a strange sense, after the preceding despair.
Thomas Hardy ever so often surprises the reader in Tess of the D’Urbervilles, but let me warn readers that there are relentlessly depressing periods predominating the latter part of the book, especially (whereas I liked how resilient Tess was at the beginning). The worst thing you could do is stop reading shortly before finishing, as then you’d miss the twist at the end of the story.
I am not sure if I recommend the novel, but I suppose I do, as I know of nothing else truly like it. It was a bit depressing, but certainly interesting, how Thomas Hardy challenges some of society’s wrongful ways of thinking.
Picketing the President: Delia’s Dilemma—Grandmother Nolan and the Suffragists by Mary Nolan Brown is an uplifting, quick read about a young woman learning to admire her suffragist grandmother. It’s 1919, and Delia’s been sent to Washington, D.C., with Mrs. Nolan, essentially as a companion. Women’s right to vote is finally being seriously considered after decades of activism, but suffragists are still being arrested for protesting, still being sent to jail.
The book is delightful, however. The suffragists support
each other and are unwavering in their cause—but still individuals, not instantly
predictable. Mrs. Nolan is a complex woman: a long-time
suffragist even though she’s a Southerner, her Catholic faith makes her
entirely opposed to the new birth control options that some of the suffragists advocate.
Mrs. Nolan doesn’t see this as any sort
of conflict of interest, however, and she’s prepared to fight for women’s suffrage
even to her death—of which there’s some likelihood. She’s in her 70s and not entirely well, but
she returns to jail and participates in the hunger strike that so many suffragists
carry out while being detained. Such a
woman of principle! Ms. Brown lets us
see her through Delia’s eyes—as Delia is also finding new friends and a beau
her grandmother disapproves of—and I can imagine Ms. Brown hearing these
stories from Delia herself.
My favorite part, however, was when the suffragists took the
train from inhospitable Washington, D.C., to Charleston, S.C., where, to my
astonishment, the Charlestonians treated them with true Southern hospitality,
providing them spaces to make their speeches, practically parading them about. Being from South Carolina, born and college-educated
in Charleston, I was thrilled to read that. (Though now that I think about it,
Charleston might not have felt so welcoming if they’d stayed there,
protesting on and on!)
I picked up this wonderful little novel at the Amelia Island
Book Festival, excited to see both it and Ms. Brown, who for a short time
attended one of my writing groups in Savannah.
I’d been enthused about the story when she was working on it, years ago,
and I’d really hoped she would publish.
Now she has, and the novel even won 2nd place in the CIPA
EVVY Indie book contest. It’s an inspiring
book, well worth your time.
Tapestry: A Lowcountry Rapunzel is catching up with Silk! It's been recognized as a Book Excellence Award Finalist in the historical category, just like its forerunner Silk: Caroline's Story last year!
"Out of thousands of books that were entered into the Book Excellence Awards competition, Tapestry was selected for its high-quality writing, design and overall market appeal." (<<<They told me to say that!)
To view this award listing, you can visit: https://honorees.bookexcellenceawards.com/#!/Tapestry-A-Lowcountry-Rapunzel-Historical/p/532989675/category=145959644
2-17-2023 Update: Both Susan's and my books made it through to become semi-finalists and now finalists! https://www.chantireviews.com/2023/02/16/the-2022-laramie-book-awards-finalists-for-americana-fiction/
Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë is a morality tale, in essence, and
provides a nice contrast to a few of my recent criticisms of both Charlotte
Brontë and Jane Austen. I can’t say that Anne Brontë outdoes her sisters
Charlotte (Jane Eyre) and Emily (Wuthering Heights) as a novelist, but of
the three—or four, if we include Austen—I would certainly choose Anne as my
minister, be that religious or governmental.
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| Author Sophia Alexander with Anne Brontë's 'Agnes Grey' |
As one reviewer puts it, Agnes Grey is more of an ‘exposé on
governessing’ than
romanticized view of it in Jane Eyre.
Not only that, but it seems that Charlotte actually wrote Jane Eyre after Agnes
Grey was written (though Anne’s book was published two months later than Jane Eyre was), both stories about plain
governesses. I can’t say that Agnes Grey
was as charming as Jane Eyre,
overall, but I certainly approve of it heartily, all the while still shaking my
head about the disaster of a romantic situation for Jane Eyre.
A state of coquettish affairs
eventually arises in Anne’s novel quite similar to what I’ve criticized some of
Austen’s works for, but Anne manages it far more gracefully. She acknowledges
at once that Agnes wouldn’t have believed the situation plausible herself had
she read it in a novel, but that she’d experienced it first-hand—making me
believe Anne herself really had! So, my qualms that way were settled in one
deft statement by Anne (even if now I wonder how her vindication so absolutely
settled the question for me—but I think it’s because she’d proven herself
trustworthy already).
Even then, however, Agnes does her
utmost to focus on her own behavior, her own reactions. She is always
monitoring herself, often scolding herself for being uncharitable or
ridiculous. I was impressed when I started to take issue with Agnes, and then
Agnes herself takes issue with Agnes! So by the time Anne describes Agnes’s
tender, pained feelings surrounding a man that a beautiful woman is only toying
with, the reader really is provoked to feel the utmost sympathy for Agnes.
Perhaps a bit of scorn for the coquette, too, but that’s not the point. The
point is Agnes and the thoughtful sincerity of her affections and morality. Our
hearts break for her.
Agnes does her best not to hold a
grudge. Later, when the coquette is caught in a bad marriage, Agnes is truly
sympathetic but gives her advice that we readers today would despair over. Her
advice does seem quite sound for the time—to make the marriage work as best she
can, to be the best wife she can be despite the man’s countless terrible
faults and wandering ways. However, let
me credit Anne Brontë with this: her next novel is centered on a woman who
actually does leave a bad marriage, so I can’t but think that her own advice
troubled her somewhat, that perhaps she even felt guilty about the fate of the
poor coquette. Anne’s sympathetic, thoughtful soul kept her pushing her own
bar.
Bravo on a work that I admire
greatly, Anne Brontë! Happy 175th publication birthday this December to Agnes Grey!
P.S. She used the expression ‘kill
time’ in this 1847 novel, which sounded quite modern to my ears! But if you do
have a little time to kill—the book’s not long at all—you could do far worse
than spending it on this thoughtful, poignant, well-written narrative that
speaks to both the heart and mind.
