A few years back I was asked by an early visitor to Random, who noted that I love Victorian Literature, if I could name my favourite books from that genre. I have recently been asked the same question and so I have had a rethink and while I was jotting notes checked my earlier post and found that not much has changed but there have been a few additions.
The book which started me off was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and this is pretty near the top of my list. We have a plain heroine who has nothing going for her but is full of determination
and spunk. There are times in my later readings of this novel when Jane's determination to be a martyr has grated at times, not least when Mr Rochester wants to buy her new clothes for her wedding and she is determined to stick to her governess grey, though of course I do realise this shows her determination to be true to herself. Her declaration of equality with Mr Rochester and the right to feel love as he does never fails to make my hair stand on end every time I read it. The impact on Victorian women when it was published must have been stunning. Lots of mothers would not allow their daughters to read it in case it gave them ideas. First read when I was 11 and of course did not understand half of it, further repeated readings make me love it more and more each time. Various film and TV versions of this book, yet to find one that I think is perfect - loved the one with Toby Stephens a couple of years ago, the sexual tension between him and his Jane leaped off the screen, but the script - too modern - rather let it down.
Middle March by George Eliot is one of the greatest Victorian novels ever written. Set in the Midlands town of Middlemarch we come
to know the lives, thoughts and loves of its inhabitants from the new idealistic Dr Lydgate who thinks he is going to change the world, marries a flighty beauty and gradually watches his idealism fall away, to Dorothea Brooke who marries the Reverend Causabon years older than her and then also has to see her youthful hope and idealism blighted. I could go on for hours about the cast of characters in this superb novel but then this blog would run over into the week. A masterpiece. The BBC did a wonderful adaptation of it back in 1994. I read Adam Bede for the first time just a couple of years ago and it has come very close to replacing Middlemarch as my favourite Eliot.
A trifle hard going at first, mainly because of the local dialect, but gradually this story got a hold of me and I was unable to put it down. The story of Adam and his love for the silly empty headed Hetty Sorrell and the ultimate terrible fate that awaits her is gripping and I sat up one night till 2 am to finish it.
My first Mrs Gaskell, who
was a contemporary and great friend of Charlotte Bronte and one of those prolific women
Victorian writers and who seem to have the knack of running a home, having children and writing in their spare time, wrote many novels and hte first one I read was Cranford, the story of a village largely populated by women and maiden aunts and this book is a delightful portrayal of their daily lives and is full of small things and minutiae. The BBC dramatisation of this a couple of years ago was a smash hit and justly so as the acting was of a stratospheric standard. With Dame Judi Dench, Dame Eileen Atkins, Sir Michael Gambon and other luminaries such as Imelda Staunton and Julia McKenzie, to mention just a few, it could hardly fail. It is a good starter book for Mrs Gaskell but in no way reflects her grasp of the bigger issues which are portrayed in her larger, greater works such as North and South
(a family move from the South to an industrial town in the north and the daughter Margaret finds it difficult to come to terms with the different way of life) until of course a dark, brooding mill owner comes along. Wives and Daughters is a portrayal of the search for happiness and different marriages (I think this one might be my favourite Mrs Gaskell). She has written many others but these will keep you going. Sir Michael Gambon produced another stunning performance as the Squire in Wives and Daughters and it was North and South which introduced us all, via the TV series, to the utter delight which is Richard Armitage. He seems to be popping up a lot on Random recently so will say no more....
We categorise Victorian literature because of the Queen on the throne when these superb books were written but of course there are wonderful American writers of the period who also fall into this category and high on my personal list is Louisa May Alcott.When I was a young girl I adored Little Women and all the other books about the March family. Her writing can seem somewhat moralistic in tone at times, but we have to remember when she was writing and who her audience was and there is a warmth about them which is impossible to resist. I still weep buckets when Beth dies.
Frances Hodgson Burnett is one of my favourite American/English authors of this period. I have raved on about The Shuttle and The Making of a Marchioness until I am sure you are bored stiff, but make no apology for this as they are both wonderful. She may be famous for The Little Princess and the Secret Garden but she had written many adult books and Through One Administration and T Tembaron are really great fun and immensely readable.
I am including EF Benson in my list of Victorian Literature now as his first book Dodo was written in 1893 and am slipping him in here as I cannot let an opportunity pass to urge anyone who has not ead the Mapp and Lucia books to do so. Some of his other stand alone works such as Michael, Mrs Ames and an Autumn Sowing show that he is not just a comedy writer. These three books show him at his best. Some of his others though are not so good but as he wrote about 90 I think he is allowed a few dodgy ones.
Now we come to Anthony Trollope who I simply love. There is something so reassuring about his novels. Some of them are big, fat, comfortable books which will keep you going for days, others are slimmer and lighter in content. He has also written shed loads of short stories, some of which are sooo funny. I discovered Trollope only ten years ago and am so glad that I left it late to find this author as it now means I have years of happy reading ahead of me. The Barchester Chronicles are, of course, simply wonderful. Barchester Towers is the one that most people remember and enjoy the most and I am not about to disagree, but by the time you reach the Last Chronicle of Barset you realise you are in the presence of a master writer. I think it is one of his finest books telling the story of a poor and proud vicar who is accused of stealing and cashing a cheque which was not his and the events which follow. Mrs Proudie makes her presence felt and the tragedy of her marriage to the Archbishop is quite heartbreaking. Then the Palliser novels - quite magnificent, my favourite being Phineas Finn. I am absolutely staggered at just how many books AT turned out and I have all of them on my shelves, 50+ and they will keep me going for many a year yet as I have only read about 29.
But the man who towers over everyone is Charles Dickens. Worthy scholars and writers have lavished millions of words on this phenomenon so I am going to make no attempt to do so save to say that I first discovered the glory of Dickens when I was about 11 (in fact about the same time I discovered Jane Eyre so that was a good
age for me). We had a junior version of David Copperfield at school which dealt with his childhood only and finished with him finding a happy home with his aunt. I thought that was an end to the story and was overjoyed when my English teacher told me that there was more. I got hold of the complete book, read it, loved it and it has been one of my favourites every since. I have to admit to problems sometimes with Dicken's so called 'funny' characters who I can find irritating, and this put me off reading Pickwick Papers for a long long time as I was not drawn to the likes of Sam Weller. My mistake. I only read it recently for the first time and I absolutely loved it and found myself sniggering away to myself as I read all the scrapes Mr Pickwick fell into.
My favourite out of all his books, and it is pretty difficult to separate them out, is Bleak House,which I had to read for my A levels at school many moons ago. Tells story of Jarndyce v Jarndyce, a case in Chancery which has been dragging on for years and which ruins the lives of everyone it touches. It is a work of stunning brilliance with one of the most memorable opening paragraphs in all English literature.
The great thing about literature of this period is that there is so much out there still awaiting my attention. In the last few years I re-read Cousin Bette by Balzac, Madame Bovary by Flaubert and discovered Zola for the first time when I read Ladies Delight in which I utterly wallowed which I suppose is FrenchVIcLit. The American novels of this period still await me, Wharton just slips into this period by the skin of her teeth (have read everything she has written but always welcome to re-read), and then we slide effortlessly into the 1900s and 1920s onwards which also hold a fascination for me, bolstered by the publications of Persephone and the earlier Virago green editions. Then I have not even mentioned Dostoevsky or any of the Russian mob - SovietVicLit??
So many books and so little time. I read and read and read and I know that when I am trying tothink of some final words of wisdom to impart to my relatives when I am about to go to the library in the sky, all I will think of is Oh bugger it I never did get round to reading War and Peace (well actually I did but I was just plucking a title out the air).
This year I have been engulfed in murder, death, detection and spy thrillers and have had a great reading time, at the moment I am reading Gerritsen and Mankell, but in between all this mayhem, blood and gore, I have a little break and turn to my favourite books - last week Diary of a Nobody by Grossmith. Witty, wonderful and hilarious.
Off to London tomorrow to see Florence and in my box of books which I will be delivering in a week or two when the family move into their new house and Florence has her bedroom all ready, are copies of Wind in the Willows and the Secret Garden. She is not ready for them yet but they will be waiting for her when she is and I hope it will be me who sits down and reads them to her....
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