Category: nineteenth century

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English literature nineteenth century

ImoReads… ‘She’ (1887) by H. Rider Haggard

Blog Nº 33

“Mistrust all men, and slay him whom thou mistrustest overmuch; and as for women, flee from them, for they are evil, and in the end will destroy thee.”

She is without a doubt an extraordinary novel, one which will leave you deep in thought for days after finishing it. Haggard uses the English language in a thoroughly captivating way to tell this tale of myth, imperialism, horror and fascination, which has remained so popular with readers that it has never gone out of print since its first release over 130 years ago.

The novel is narrated by protagonist Horace Holly, and tells the tale of how he, a Cambridge professor, and his ward Leo Vincey came to be in the presence of Ayesha, the mysterious white queen of a Central African tribe. Her full title, She-who-must-be-obeyed, is a testament to how she can at once mesmerise with her eternal beauty and magical powers, but also be cruel and manipulative whenever the mood takes her. Holly and Leo’s journey to her hidden realm – which they are unsure is even real because it’s based on a 2,000-year-old quest – sees them battle shipwreck, fever, starvation and cannibals all to reach the goal of finding She. Both men are at once horrified and entranced by Ayesha, symbolising her as one of the most compelling and ambivalent figures in Western mythology – a female who is both monstrous and desirable, and without a doubt, more deadly than the male.

She is a vivid example of imperialist literature. As such, it embraces many hallmarks typical of this genre including ideas of racial and cultural hierarchy that were popular in the late Victorian period and adventuring to a ‘lost world’ (Haggard developed many conventions of this genre), in this case deep in the wild interior of Africa. Before writing this novel Haggard lived in South Africa for seven years, working in a very senior position of the British colonial administration, and he was heavily inspired by his time there when writing She. The sense of adventure in this novel is intoxicating, and since its publication She has been popular with readers across the age and gender spectrum. Like Holly and Leo, we are intrigued by this secret tribe living in an arresting, undiscovered pocket of land in Central Africa, and even more intrigued as to how they are so entirely ruled over by an eternal, beautiful, magical queen who commands power, fear and obedience with as little as a title, She-who-must-be-obeyed. 

Significantly, She provides us with an interesting exploration of themes including female authority and womanhood. Some scholars have noted that the publication of She coincided with Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubliee and suggested that She is an ominous literary tribute to the Queen on her 50 years on the throne. Both women are also chaste and devoted to one man – Victoria to Albert and Ayesha to Kallikrates, an ancient lover for whom she has waited patiently for 2,000 years to return to her. While Victoria is seen as a benign figure, Ayesha embodies late Victorian fears of a feminist movement desiring absolute female independence and absolute control over men. Anxiety over all-consuming female authority is present throughout the novel, particularly when both Holly and Leo – who represent ‘superior’ male intellect and physicality respectively – quickly fall under her will. Even their rational minds and Holly’s self-confessed misogyny are no defence against Ayesha, and they both worship her “as never woman was worshipped”. Even in the tribe that She rules over, women are respected and not subservient to men and there is no such thing as monogamy. Women select their partners, and they can have as many as they like. In one sense this is positive, because we see women taking control of their lives in a time where they were largely oppressed and thought of as the inferior sex. However, Ayesha also falls into the category of seductive femme fatale, which is a part of a centuries-old tradition of Western male sexual fantasy that includes other characters such as Homer’s Circe, Flaubert’s Salammbô, and Shakespeare’s Cleopatra. 

In conclusion She is a novel which will take hold of you, as it has taken hold of many generations since its publication in 1887; it is not only the characters that become fascinated by the unknowable She-who-must-be-obeyed. Experience romance, adventure, danger, horror and get a intriguing insight into the Victorian imperial mindset with this astonishing work of fiction.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
nineteenth century

ImoReads… ‘Love and Youth: Essential Stories’ (1852-1860) by Ivan Turgenev

Blog Nº 22

‘O youth! youth! You care about nothing, you believe you possess all the treasures of the world; even sorrow gives you pleasure, even grief amuses you, you are bold and daring, and everything melts in you like wax in the sunshine, like snow in springtime’

I got this collection of short stories as a Christmas present; my dad thought it was ‘about time’ that I get acquainted with one of Russia’s best nineteenth-century writers, Ivan Turgenev. I was excited to read it to see how differently/similarly the themes of love and youth were tackled in Russian writing compared to Western European writing at this time. The collection comprises Turgenev’s great novella First Love and five short stories, all managing to feature vibrant and arresting characters and plotlines in so few pages.

My favourite tale in the book is undoubtedly First Love. Three middle-aged friends are looking back on their first loves, and of the three it is Vladimir Petrovich who has the most youthfully turbulent tale to tell. Petrovich writes down his story in a notebook, and this is how we hear it. We are taken back to the summer of 1833 when Petrovich was 16, living in Moscow with his parents. Studying for his university entrance exams goes out of the window when the beautiful and sharp Zinaida moves in next door with her mother, the old Princess Zasekina. Zinaida is a few years older than Petrovich but he is instantly infatuated with her; we hear first-hand how he begins to experience the paradox of being in love – how it can be at once painful and glorious. Petrovich begins to spend all his time with Zinaida and the several other young men she has expertly cast under her spell. And yet, when we eventually find out who it is that Zinaida truly loves, it is clear that she is in just as much pain as the men she is toying with, and the revelation is as much of a shock to the reader as it is to poor Petrovich.

What I enjoyed about this story is how Petrovich’s emotions and actions transcend the time period of the book; any 21st-century teenager or young adult who has ever experienced a crush, heartbreak or a relationship reading First Love would be able to identify with elements of Petrovich’s struggle. Older readers I’m sure would share the wistful reflection clearly felt by the fortysomething Petrovich looking back on his younger self. It is an interesting insight into humanity that no matter where you’re from, no matter the social customs and outlook of your time, everyone collectively shares in and relates to the emotional rollercoaster that is love and relationships.

The five other short stories in the collection are Bezhin Meadow; Biryuk; The Rattling!;The District Doctor;The Lovers’ Meeting. Though several of these also tackle the theme of love, the majority are tales filled with the grandiose flights of youthful imagination. For example in Bezhin Meadow, a lost traveller shelters for the night in the meadow with a group of peasant boys guarding a herd of horses. They talk round the fire of bogeymen, ‘russalkas’ (wood sprites) and local rumour of strange happenings. Turgenev is an excellent storyteller, interweaving mysterious wails and jumpy moments into the narrative as the boys tell these tales. This made me as a reader feel the eerie presence of the meadow bearing down upon me just as these young boys with runaway imaginations would have felt. In fact, in each of these short stories Turgenev evokes his chosen landscapes vividly, with the consequence of making them appear distinctly Russian. In The Rattling! Turgenev expertly uses the wild landscape paired with an ominous rattling of a far-off carriage to convince the main characters that they are being pursued along the road by bandits. As their own cart fails to keep ahead the rattling gets closer and closer, making for an extremely gripping few pages.

Turgenev was a key figure in popularising Russian literature in the West, and after reading this engaging collection I can see why. I look forward to introducing myself to more Russian literary greats in future.

Happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
English literature French Literature nineteenth century

ImoReads… ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ (1873) by Jules Verne

Blog Nº 10

“Everybody knows that England is the world of betting men, who are of a higher class than mere gamblers; to bet is in the English temperament”

Hooray, I’m back in the rollicking world of Victorian adventure thanks to Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days (1873). My parents bought me a lovely edition for Christmas and it took me all of a week to devour it and see if it was in fact possible to pull off such a feat. 

Of course, this book was originally written in French (and perhaps I should have read it comme ça) but I thought the English translation worked really well, in part because London is the home setting and the main character is an English gentleman, Phileas Fogg. 

Whose idea was it to take on this crazy trip I hear you cry, which brings me to the premise of the story. Our protagonist Mr Fogg has just taken on a new servant, a Frenchman named Passepartout (meaning ‘goes everywhere’ – oh the irony) who is looking for a quiet, easy life with little to do after a career in the circus. Luckily for Passepartout Mr Fogg is a very meticulous gentleman who schedules every minute of his life to a T, going nowhere else but between his house on Savile Row and the Reform Club. He takes lunch and dinner at the club and spends an awful lot of time playing a card game called Whist. This creature of habit is not someone you would suspect of undertaking a journey so foreign and full of unforeseen risk. 

And yet, it transpires that after a conversation with some fellow club members, Mr Fogg has calmly bet £20,000 (half of all the money to his name no less!) that he can indeed travel around the world in 80 days, starting from that very moment. Much to the glee of the gentlemen and the dismay of Passepartout, the adventure had begun.

What follows is a rich and exciting journey around the world using every mode of transport available – including an elephant and a sledge. The nineteenth-century world, particularly the British or ex-British colonies is of particular historical interest to me, so I especially enjoyed being able to traverse through the likes of India, Singapore and America with the characters. Not that Mr Fogg shows any interest in anywhere for the duration of the trip, much to the astonishment of Passepartout and me the reader, however this does add a consistent element of humour to the novel. Indeed, this imperturbably cool-headed gentleman is quite remarkable, and his inexplicably calm nature comes in very useful in the many crises faced en route. He is the antidote to the chaos of Passepartout, who always seems to be getting himself into scrapes.

Towards the end of the voyage, Mr Fogg has got himself quite the motley crew of fellow travellers who have become as invested in this bet as if it were their own, including the conniving police inspector Mr Fix. Together they face a multitude of exciting incidents and mishaps, not least fighting off an attack by a tribe of Sioux native Americans in the middle of a train journey.

Verne’s novel is not only thrilling but witty. Even in English, all his wry comments on the nature of colonialism, stock markets, and Mr Fogg himself for example make for a drily amusing and engaging read alongside all the adventure.

The question now on your mind is probably – but did Mr Fogg and the gang manage to do it? That one I will leave up to you to find out in what is quite frankly a nail-biting and unexpected ending.

Bon voyage and happy reading,

Imo x

Categories
English literature nineteenth century

ImoReads… ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ (1890) by Oscar Wilde

Blog Nº 9

“The horror, whatever it was, had not yet entirely spoiled that marvellous beauty”

There is and always will be a soft spot in my heart for Oscar Wilde, certainly one of the most provocative literary figures of the nineteenth century. After going to a production of the brilliantThe Importance of Being Earnest (blog coming soon) with my mum some years ago, I became infatuated and have since read all his short stories, plays, essays and this, his only novel. He was even the subject of my 5000-word Extended Project Qualification (EPQ) undertaken alongside my A-Levels, in which I tasked myself with the question, ‘to what extent was the Victorian press responsible for Oscar Wilde’s celebrity?’ Research for this took me to the National Archives, where I felt privileged to read his handwritten letters from his time in prison. Humbly then, I consider myself to be the epitome of the Wildean ‘fangirl’ if such a thing exists. 

As part of my EPQ I examined the blatant homoeroticism running through The Picture of Dorian Gray, as it was used as evidence against Wilde in his sensationalised trial for ‘gross indecency with other men’ in 1895, a proceeding which certainly elevated his celebrity. Therefore, I am going to use this blog to discuss other key themes in the text such as Gothicism and aestheticism.

This novel is an ill-fated tale of moral decline and philosophic instruction for our unfortunate protagonist, the young aristocrat Dorian Gray. Basil Hallward, Dorian’s close friend and a professional artist, paints a portrait of Dorian because he is completely infatuated by his youth and extraordinary beauty. At first Dorian is delighted with the painting; it only dawns on him that his beauty – so perfectly preserved on the canvas – will fade with age after Basil’s amoral friend, Lord Henry Wotton, informs him of the fact. So enamoured with his own radiant portrait, Dorian exchanges his soul for eternal youth and beauty in an exquisitely Faustian twist. As a result, he is drawn into a corrupt and sinful double life, indulging unspeakable desires in secret while maintaining a gentlemanly façade to polite society. Only the painting bears evidence of his decadence while he himself retains his youthful innocence and beauty.

The lurking presence of the painting that becomes harder and harder for Dorian to ignore is one of my favourite gothic elements in the novel. The physical embodiment of his deal with the devil, the painting becomes more and more hideous each time Dorian does something terrible; as well as ageing repulsively, there is a chilling cruelty in the eyes and mouth of the painted Dorian that grows increasingly and unnervingly noticeable as the novel progresses. Locked away in a dark dusty room high up in the house, the strange horror of the painting is alike to a nightmare you can’t quite shake off. 

And yet, Dorian is not too concerned with the degradation of the painting at first. He is too busy engaging in debauched delights; think opium dens and licentious behaviour in the darkest corners of London.

It is only when his manner and behaviour become too cruel for him to ignore – because indeed the soul can decay in more ways than one – that the painting and what he has done begins to weigh down upon him. In this way, the painting is a motif for an inverted magic mirror. It allows him to live for hedonistic pleasure for a time, but always reflects the ugly truth of his crimes back to him no matter how much he wishes it not to.

I find this very interesting in the context of Wilde’s ‘art for art’s sake’ aesthetic philosophy. Scathingly received by critics at the time for its homoeroticism and allusions to sins that were surely offensive to stiff Victorian moralities, Wilde fiercely defended The Picture of Dorian Gray. In a now infamous aphoristic preface to the non-censored 1891 edition, Wilde vigorously defends art for art’s sake. It is ironic that, although he was referring to the art of his writing, the idea of art for art’s sake is completely vilified in this story. That is, it turns out that the ‘work of art’ that is Dorian should have stayed on the canvas. His pursuit of eternal youth and beauty is his ruination, and it hurts many characters along the way. Wilde’s moral lesson here is that being good trumps looking good; a virtuous soul brings more happiness than beauty, which should only ever be ephemeral.

Dark though this tale is, I must laud its moments of comic relief, provided by Lord Henry ‘Harry’ Wotton. You cannot help but like this gentlemanly rogue despite his amorality due to the Wildean wit bestowed upon him. Many of Wilde’s most famous epigrams come from The Picture of Dorian Gray. An epigram is a phrase that expresses an idea in an interesting, clever, and surprisingly satirical way. Wilde always says the exact opposite of what you are expecting him to say. For example, Harry is of the opinion that ‘it is only shallow people who do not care about appearances’ which is decidedly not how that phrase is usually said. Wilde’s epigrams also turn out to be well-observed and pretty much true, such as in another golden example from Harry; ‘“It is perfectly monstrous”, he said, at last, “the way people go about nowadays saying things against one behind one’s back that are absolutely and entirely true”’. Harry’s enduring friendship with Dorian means that fortunately, readers are exposed to many a memorable epigram over the thirteen chapters.

So then, The Picture of Dorian Gray is a must-read Victorian novel, not only for its thought-provoking themes and intelligent narrative, but for its distinctly Wildean touch. An interesting question to ask yourself when reading it is, who is really to blame for the outcome of the novel? Is it Basil for painting the picture? Is it Harry for targeting Dorian with his bad influence and amoral philosophies? Or is it Dorian himself for enacting his fateful deal? It’s a moral conundrum but I’ll leave that for you to decide…

Happy reading,

Imo x