“The seas are rising, whatever you believe. Soon we will all be wet together, and together we will gasp for air.…”
My Monticello is Johnson’s debut novel, and it is a truly American tragedy. It explores racist violence in the nation and how its controversial history is still impacting ideologies and attitudes in the modern day.
The novel covers a period of only nineteen days, though things escalate quickly. Power outages and storms are battering America when the neighbourhood of First Street in Charlottesville, Virginia is attacked by white supremacists. A motley crew of residents manage to flee the scene by commandeering an empty city bus and seek refuge at Monticello, the nearby historic plantation-home of Thomas Jefferson. Narrated by student Da’Naisha Love, a young black descendant of Jefferson and Sally Hemings, one of his slaves, she and the other escapees have a complex relationship with the plantation. The group must shelter within its walls, forage the grounds and think about their next move, as the terror from the town creeps ever closer. My Monticello is a stark criticism of past and present racism, and its characters tell a story of courage, reclamation, resistance, community and hope.
The chilling aspect of My Monticello is that you could relate the events of the story to any period in modern American history, indicating that race relations have not much improved since the era of slavery. Indeed, Charlottesville did face a racist attack in 2017 when a white supremacist drove headlong into a crowd peacefully protesting against a Unite the Right rally in the city, killing one and injuring many others. My Monticello spirals out from here, set in the near future when the impact of climate change is being keenly felt, with the resulting blackouts and floods providing opportunities for white supremacist groups to once again lay siege to Charlottesville’s black neighbourhoods with little intervention from police. It is a worrying look into the future for America as racial tensions continue to escalate and warnings about irrevocable damage to the planet become more urgent. There is a terrible irony about Da’Naisha and the others, including her elderly grandmother, having to seek refuge in the Monticello mansion house – they are driven up there by the cold and looming threat of the attacks after initially remaining down in the outbuildings. It is a macabre homecoming for these descendants of Jefferson and only adds to the American nightmare they are suffering.
Johnson’s narrative style for Da’Naisha is precise and remains graceful despite the fearful situation of the group. Short sentences, brief and incomplete dialogue exchanges and the air of concern for the future among the refugees adds to the urgency of their situation. Readers will be impressed by the group’s pragmatism and resistance despite their being heavily outnumbered and out-resourced by the encroaching attackers, mirroring historic resistance from black slaves against their white owners. And yet, the reader is also horrified by the hopelessness of their situation in a country that is seemingly unravelling.
My Monticello is a severely critical take on racism past and present, highlighting many of America’s issues in only 178 pages. It is a unique and thought-provoking debut novel that tackles uncomfortable subject matter in an imaginative and memorable way.
“I shouldn’t think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea.”
I Capture the Castle is a novel that has been ‘capturing’ people’s hearts for over 50 years thanks to Dodie Smith’s witty and charming narrative. Smith, of The Hundred and One Dalmatians fame, is an important twentieth-century writer and many consider I Capture the Castle as her seminal work. It has earned its place amongst my favourite books of all time and I hope this blog will convince you to give it a go.
The novel is set in the 1930s and is written in diary format by seventeen-year-old Cassandra Mortmain. The Mortmains are a bohemian but impoverished family living in a crumbling castle in rural Suffolk. Cassandra documents her life alongside her beautiful, restless sister, twenty-one-year-old Rose, her schoolboy brother Thomas, the family’s dashing young lodger Stephen, her ethereal and glamorous stepmother Topaz and her eccentric novelist father, whose writer’s block has financially crippled the family. Despite the family’s precarious situation, Cassandra’s diary is cheerful and unguardedly funny. However, when the American heirs to the castle estate arrive unexpectedly, the Mortmains’ lives are changed dramatically and Cassandra finds herself falling in love for the first time.
The magic of this novel lies with its narrator and diarist Cassandra. Her characterful and amusing personality would make any reader smile while her guileless charm is refreshing and only adds to the humour of the story. The opening line of I Capture the Castle, “I write this sitting in the kitchen sink”, is probably one of the most memorable of twentieth-century literature. The Mortmains’ family friend the vicar perceptively says of Cassandra that she is “Jane Eyre with a touch of Becky Sharp” – she is at once fanciful, whimsical, sensible and intelligent, while her good-naturedness has continued to charm readers since the book’s publication. Through Cassandra, Smith has managed to create a very convincing diary novel. The improving fortunes of the family are also mirrored in the three notebooks Cassandra completes throughout the course of I Capture the Castle, going from the sixpenny book to the shilling book to the two-guinea book. There are sometimes jumps in time when she runs out of paper, or gentle reminders to herself to relay events in chronological order which add a keen sense of reality to her diary. In all, Cassandra is one of the most vibrant, engaging and memorable characters I have come across in literature.
Two key themes running through I Capture the Castle are poverty and love, and with the arrival of Simon and Neil Cotton the American heirs, these themes soon collide. Before their arrival the sisters long for romantic entanglements and worry about never meeting any marriageable men, “even hideous, poverty-stricken ones”, Cassandra writes. Despite their precarious financial situation, the Mortmains are very upbeat and maintain a make do and mend attitude. Even when hungry, cold or sighing over worn, too-small clothes, there is always fun to be had and a hopeful outlook. However, like most young women the sisters long for romantic encounters. The arrival of Simon and Neil who have inherited the Godsend Castle estate and Scoatney Hall, the nearby manor house, causes quite the stir within the family. In typical Pride and Prejudice fashion, Rose is determined to marry the elder brother (and heir) Simon – despite her aversion to his beard – for the good of the family. But of course, as the Mortmain sisters grow closer to the Cotton brothers, complications arise and all parties find themselves conflicted by aspects of young love.
Overall, I Capture the Castle is an enchanting and joyful read, and through Cassandra’s colourful narration the reader will feel an affinity with the majority of the characters.This is a novel I know I will re-read several times and I would encourage others to do the same.
“The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”
I find the late Victorian/early Edwardian period historically fascinating, so I am always keen to read books set during this era. The Go-Between is Hartley’s best known work and it certainly lives up to its reputation as a haunting story about lost innocence and a lucid critique of the society in which it takes place.
The novel is narrated by protagonist Leo Colston. The story is framed by adult Leo looking back on ‘the incident’ that happened during the long hot summer of 1900, after he finds a diary that he wrote at the time when he was almost 13. Older Leo had blocked out what happened but delving back into this diary forces him to piece it back together.
During the summer holidays, Leo is invited by his schoolfriend Marcus Maudsley to come and stay for several weeks at his home in Norfolk, Brandham Hall. Leo is from an unpolished middle-class background while the Maudsleys are of the wealthy upper-class. Whilst there, Leo becomes completely enamoured with Marcus’ older sister Marian. It is a crush that Leo cannot fully understand because he is still young enough that sexual attraction does not occur to him. Capitalising on Leo’s infatuation when Marcus falls ill and is kept in bed, Marian enlists Leo as a secret messenger to send letters between herself and tenant farmer Ted Burgess, with whom she is in a clandestine relationship. Marian is also due to become engaged to Viscount Hugh Trimingham, who Leo also likes. Unaware of the nature of their relationship at first, Leo is happy to carry the notes because he enjoys Marian’s attention and he likes Ted. When he begins to suspect that their relationship is not to do with ‘business’ as Marian and Ted told him, he naively believes that news of the engagement should automatically end their relationship. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the level of risk and deception by carrying the messages to and fro, Leo tries to get out but is manipulated and pressured psychologically by Marian and Ted to continue as their go-between. Eventually Leo’s unwillingness and naivety plus his exploitation by Marian and Ted comes to a head, with chillingly disastrous consequences for all involved.
The Go-Between examines the impact of the collision of childish innocence and the world of adult relationships. The reader knows immediately what is going on between Marian and Ted, and understands why they are both so indulgent of Leo, while Leo is blissfully unaware that he is being unconsciously flattered and coerced into the go-between role. Such a high level of dramatic irony makes for an intriguing read.
Though it is the summer holidays, the influence of school has a profound effect on Leo’s outlook and actions. Him and Marcus feel bound by their boarding school’s social rules not only in the schoolyard but in their everyday lives, and Leo has a reputation among his classmates as a successful magician after he cursed two boys that were bullying him and they subsequently fell off the school roof and were injured. Such strong belief in these rules confuses Leo’s relationship with the adult world which he encounters at Brandham Hall, adding to the ticking time bomb of what was to come.
It is also clear when reading The Go-Between that Leo feels emotions very strongly, suddenly, almost uncontrollably, which is a constant reminder of his young age and maturity level while he is being slowly dragged into a an risky situation of very grown-up proportions. In the end, older Leo says that what happened traumatised him so much that it led to a nervous breakdown and has irrevocably affected his adult life in terms of his ability to form relationships and deal with emotions. Hartley’s superb examination of the interplay between childhood and adulthood in The Go-Between has made it a hugely influential work. For example, Ian McEwan describes his acclaimed novel Atonement (2001) as a kind of homage to Hartley’s novel.
Saoirse Ronan in ‘Atonement’ (2007)
As mentioned, the turn of the twentieth century is an era I enjoy delving into and The Go-Between is in many ways faithful to the time it was set. Descriptions of cricket matches, picnics and river bathing conjures up a beautiful impression of a classic summer in the English countryside, accompanied by late Victorian dress, social customs and manner of speech. Though the novel is overall a critique of society at this time, there are some favourable moments to be had thanks to these elements.
All in all, The Go-Between is a clever and arresting story about class, innocence and relationships at the turn of the century that will leave you thinking about it long after you have finished reading it.
“Caring too much for objects can destroy you. Only—if you care for a thing enough, it takes on a life of its own, doesn’t it? And isn’t the whole point of things—beautiful things—that they connect you to some larger beauty?”
I have now finished Donna Tartt’s trifecta of outstanding novels. For me, none can beat The Secret History, but The Goldfinch is still worthy of its reputation as an outstanding novel and a modern epic. It is an emotional and melancholy look into just how murky life can become after experiencing tragedy, trauma and neglect.
The Goldfinch opens in New York City on thirteen-year-old Theodore Decker, the son of a devoted mother and an absent father. One unfortunate day, Theo’s life is ripped apart when his mother is killed in a terrorist explosion while they are visiting Metropolitan Museum of Art together. Utterly alone and longing for his mother, he is taken in by the family of a wealthy friend, before being shipped off to Las Vegas to live with his father and his girlfriend. Traumatised by the loss of his mother, he holds dear something that reminds him of her, their favourite painting from the Met, The Goldfinch. Known only to Theo is that he has the original 1654 painting by Dutch artist Fabritius in his possession, which he took from the gallery in the wake of the explosion. Faced with neglect and indifference in Las Vegas, Theo finds solace in his friend Boris and in their descent into drugs and alcohol. Ultimately, in adulthood the painting draws him back to New York to revive old acquaintances and slowly drives him into the criminal underworld.
For me, one of the most poignant sections of The Goldfinch is Theo’s time as a young teenager in a Las Vegas suburb. Comprising of soulless new-build homes cut off from the city, most of which are empty or crumbling and some of which have even reclaimed by the Nevada desert, it feels like a metaphor for the failed American Dream. This becomes even more evident when we witness how neither Theo nor Boris have anyone in the world who cares about them, despite the fact that they both live with a parent. They often go hungry because nobody thinks to feed them and they resort to stealing. Theo’s situation at home improves only when his father’s gambling habits are going well. Both affected by trauma and with nothing to do and nobody to wonder about them, Theo and Boris are in and out of school, and spend their evenings getting drunk and high on whatever drug they can find. It is quite shocking to read about such young teenagers drinking until they’re sick or taking acid with no parental awareness or care for what they’re doing. Theo narrates this portion of his life in such a lucid and resigned way that it feels like he has accepted the fact that one tragic incident knocked him into a different life, one that is consumed by loneliness, substance abuse and monotony.
Like Tartt’s other two novels, the research and attention to detail are remarkable. The Goldfinch allows a rare glimpse into the world of art and antiques, and the murky underworld that accompanies them. As an adult Theo has learnt the antiques trade, including how to restore pieces falling to ruin. He works in New York with Hobie, the business partner of a man who spent his last minutes with Theo in the aftermath of the explosion. Every choice and every relationship Theo has comes back to the incident and the taking of the Goldfinch painting. Twists and turns, his continued reliance on drugs and his guardianship of the painting eventually brings him back in touch with old friends from the city and Boris, and reluctantly pulls him into the greedy world of criminal art fraud and theft which leads to a page-turning bid for escape. The Goldfinch has many elements of a Shakespearean tragedy set against a modern and truly American backdrop.
Overall, The Goldfinch is an extraordinary novel that opens up a world that most of us know little about. Through watching Theo’s life and how young he experiences darker elements of adulthood, it is hard not to think that he is just a boy trying to muddle through after the devastating loss of his mother.
Conversations with Friends -- “Episode 4” - Episode 104 -- Frances and Bobbi travel to Croatia to join Melissa and Nick on holiday. Having not seen or spoken to Nick in a few weeks, Frances learns that he has had a tough time recently and they both realise that they are still attracted to each other. Bobbi (Sasha Lane), Nick (Joe Alwyn), Frances (Alison Oliver), and Melissa (Jemima Kirke), shown. (Photo by: Enda Bowe/Hulu)
Blog Nº 38
“Everyone’s always going through something, aren’t they? That’s life, basically. It’s just more and more things to go through.”
I first read Conversations with Friends in 2018 shortly after it was published, and I thought it was one of the most captivating and relevant novels of recent times. I have recently re-read it now that the hotly anticipated TV adaptation is out, and it did not disappoint on second reading. From the young and incredibly talented Irish author Sally Rooney, Conversations with Friends is a truthful, sharp, witty and sometimes cruel novel about the realities of love and youth.
Set in Dublin, Conversations with Friends follows Frances and her best friend (and ex-girlfriend) Bobbi. Both university students, Frances and Bobbi often perform poetry together at spoken word events on the Dublin literary scene, and it is at one such event that they catch the attention of Melissa, a journalist and photographer in her thirties. Melissa invites the two friends into her home where they meet her husband Nick, an actor. The lives of these two sets of people become increasingly tangled as Frances and Nick begin an affair and Bobbi and Melissa grow closer, causing emotions to run high in this novel of intense clarity and vulnerability that examines the pitfalls of adult relationships.
Something that critics praised across the board when Conversations with Friends was published was Rooney’s unique prose style. As the narrator, Frances speaks to the reader with such a sharp lucidity and thrilling confidence, and there is little in the way of figurative or ornamental language. This style allows Rooney to write extremely well on the condition of youth and the mental and physical turmoils which can accompany it, and I am glad that I was able to read it for the first time when I was the same age as Frances and Bobbi. The lack of floral, descriptive language means that the four central characters are the focus, and Rooney gives each of them convincing layers of fragility and tentativeness as well as strength and wit, making for a real page-turner of a social drama.
Sex is a leading theme throughout the book as it ties the four main characters together. Frances and Bobbi used to be a couple and remain best friends, though they have moments of sexual chemistry within this story. Melissa is bisexual like Frances and Bobbi is gay; it is quite clear that Bobbi is attracted to Melissa and we find out that they kiss at least once. Frances and Nick begin an affair, while Nick also reignites his sexual relationship with Melissa partway through the novel after we are told it has been stagnant for some time. When describing Frances and Nick’s sex life, Rooney excels at portraying their relationship as sensual, sexy and intense while at the same time keeping it realistic and vulnerable, as the two often have trouble communicating. This could be due to the ten-year age gap between them, the strain of keeping their affair a secret or because they are both portrayed as quite awkward people. Either way, Conversations with Friends is an interesting examination of how sexual attraction and encounters can make or break a social group.
I would highly recommend Conversations with Friends, and I hope now that the TV series does not disappoint.
“It’s necessary to have wished for death in order to know how good it is to live.”
The Count of Monte Cristo has overtaken Gone With the Wind as the longest book I have ever read, coming in at 1,243 pages. This did not stop me racing through it because it is one of the most engaging, clever and thrilling novels I have ever read. It certainly deserves its reputation as one of the greatest books of all time. A story of adventure, hope, justice, revenge and forgiveness, The Count of Monte Cristo will whirl you away into a turbulent period of French history and will stir up all your emotions as you follow one man’s struggle for almost thirty years.
Our story begins in the French port city of Marseille in 1815, and the novel’s protagonist is the young, dashing and thoroughly good Edmond Dantès, who at just nineteen years old is a talented sailor. Despite coming from humble beginnings, Edmond could not be happier with life. He is engaged to the beautiful Mercédès and he is first mate of the Pharaon, owned by the kindly shipowner Morrel. On the day of his wedding, Edmond is falsely accused of treason and Bonapartism and is sent without trial to the island fortress prison off the coast of Marseille, the Château d’If.
Marseille
While imprisoned in the darkest dungeon of the prison Edmond befriends Abbé Faria, a fellow prisoner who had been trying to tunnel out of the prison when he arrived at Edmond’s cell. From Edmond’s story, the Abbé is able to deduce who falsely accused and turned in Edmond for their own gain – namely, jealous love rival Fernand Mondego, envious crewmate Danglars and the double-crossing magistrate De Villefort. During their dark years of imprisonment, the Abbé teaches Edmond history, languages, science, literature and more, but most importantly tells of a vast wealth of treasure on the small uninhabited island of Monte Cristo close to the Château d’If that he believes exists from intense historical research. Together they plot their escape, but when the Abbé becomes too ill and is on the verge of death, bequeaths all the treasure to Edmond. After 14 years of wrongful imprisonment, Edmond is able to escape the hellish prison and to his astonishment, discovers that the Abbé was right about the treasure when he arrives at Monte Cristo.
Monte Cristo Island
Fast forward ten years and Edmond arrives in Paris from the Orient, unrecognisable as the mysterious and infinitely wealthy Count of Monte Cristo, secretly set on exacting revenge upon Fernand, Danglars and De Villefort, who have all achieved high levels of success, wealth and status, in part due to their betrayal of Edmond. As the novel progresses it becomes clear how the Count has spent the last ten years patiently and masterfully doing his research and setting up his plan, which will send the reader into a fever pitch as the Count embeds himself in the lives of his enemies. The Count of Monte Cristo is an interesting look into the inner morality of man, as even those who have endured much suffering at the hands of others can still wage a battle within themselves about the choice between revenge and forgiveness as emotions run high and old wounds are reopened.
This novel spans from 1815 to 1839, and Dumas should be praised for keeping up such a fast-paced and involving narrative, despite the complexities of the story and the many strands of the tale that make up the story of Edmond. Interestingly, the bones of the novel are taken from the real-life story of shoemaker François Picaud, who was denounced by his friends as an English spy and imprisoned shortly after becoming engaged to a young woman named Marguerite. After serving part of his sentence under house arrest, his master left all his money to Picaud and informed him as to the whereabouts of a hidden treasure. Unlike Dantès, Picaud went around killing all of his enemies but it is clear how inspired Dumas was by this story, and how skilled he is as a storyteller to bring the story to life and adding in so many nuances, links and plotlines. A key shift is the Mediterranean angle that Dumas gave to The Count of Monte Cristo, by starting the novel in Marseille. The idea of the Mediterranean as the exotic and intoxicating meeting point between the cultures of Europe and the Orient fascinated French authors during this period, and this novel uses the character of the Count to fulfil many Orientalist tropes. The Count has a colourful, rich and vibrant sense of dress, interior design and always lays out an exotic feast for his guests. His household staff include the Nubian mute slave Ali and his devoted companion Haydée, a beautiful Turkish girl he rescued in Constantinople. Additionally, his knowledge of the Orient (as idealised by Europeans during this time) and his mastery of languages lead many of the other characters to believe he must be from the Orient, if not for his very pale skin, which unknown to them is a result of his long period of imprisonment. Many come to the conclusion that he must be from a point between Europe and the Orient like Malta, when in fact he is French through and through.
What I find the most satisfying and intelligent about The Count of Monte Cristo is the fact that despite the Count’s plot to bring down his enemies, he is still only the indirect avenger of his misfortune. In fact, it is their own past misdeeds that destroy the ‘victims’ Danglars, De Villefort and Fernand, all of which are simply uncovered and exploited by the Count. Furthermore, having been educated by the Abbé Faria and armed with limitless wealth, Dantès is able to come back as an instrument of divine justice in the guise of the Count, though that still does not stop him being plagued by insecurity and doubt as his plans take hold. Another interesting perspective is that the Count and the Abbé are early forerunners of the ‘detective’ figure in literature. There are certainly some Holmesian aspects to the novel. For example, the Abbé’s deduction of who betrayed Edmond and why, simply from Edmond’s retelling of the tale. Secondly, the logic behind the Count’s plans only becoming visible to the reader later on while the Count has been the master of events all along. Haydée is a key example. While at first perceived to be simply the Count’s exotic young companion acquired on his travels, she is also the daughter of Ali, Pasha of Janina, a man whom Fernand secretly betrayed to acquire a huge fortune and earn a misplaced military respect in France. Therefore, she is revealed as the proof that would help to bring him down.
The Count of Monte Cristo is an exciting and moving adventure, and after following the Count for so long it is satisfying to see good winning out over evil. However, it is hard not to be struck by the sense that despite the Count’s fulfilment of his plan and achieving the rare opportunity of obtaining education and limitless wealth as a result of his imprisonment, no amount of money can replace a lost life and destiny. Though able to find some peace, the Count will never be able to get back the happy life he once lived as Edmond Dantès, the young sailor with little to his name in terms of money or education, but who had his whole life ahead of him and was surrounded by love and joy. The true tragedy of the novel is that Dantès’ life ended the moment his so-called friends turned him in, and his struggle to forge a new life as the Count will still always be secondary to who he once was.
“Nature’s creative power is far beyond man’s instinct of destruction.”
I am already a fan of Jules Verne after having read Around the World in Eighty Days last year. In terms of an adventure story, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea did not disappoint, and also happens to cover vast swathes of the globe (albeit exclusively by sea!). This novel is full of exciting moments and makes you marvel at the world below the surface.
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea is narrated by Professor Pierre Aronnax, a French marine biologist, who happens to be in New York City when the story begins in 1866. Various ships coming in to port have reported sightings of a mysterious sea monster, thought by some to be a giant narwhal. When an expedition to find and kill the creature is authorised by the US government, Aronnax and his faithful assistant Conseil are invited along to offer their expertise. Master whaler and harpooner Ned Land is also among the invitees. When their ship the Abraham Lincoln eventually finds and faces off with the creature, Aronnax, Conseil and Ned Land are thrown from the ship. They hold onto the ‘monster’ for survival, which they shortly realise is in fact some sort of submarine vessel. They are taken within by its mysterious Captain Nemo, and then follows a five month adventure aboard the Nautilus. Verne portrays a world filled with marvellous sea creatures, lost cities, treasure, coral forests and more in this non-stop adventure novel.
What is staggering about this novel is the amount of research Verne must have done to make Aronnax and Conseil’s knowledge of marine biology seem accurate and to be able to describe the seabed and everything around it in such vivid detail, not to mention the geographical precision which is present throughout the book. Undoubtedly, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea is as educational as it is adventurous. For example, when walking in scuba suits through the underwater forest of Crespo Island, Aronnax reels off names including zoophytes, fishflies, brain coral, ribbon kelp and more, not to mention technical species names like caryophillia and dactylopterae. I was consistently impressed by this throughout the book, and wonder how many hours Verne spent painstakingly researching this to make a fantastic novel.
The adventure in this novel has many layers. It is of course fascinating to see the group travelling across the world – at one point Aronnax muses over some of the things they have encountered during their stay on board the Nautilus: “the underwater hunting forays, the Torres Strait, the tribesmen of Papua, the time we ran aground, the coral cemetery, crossing under the Suez, the island of Santorini, the Cretan diver, the Bay of Vigo, Atlantis, the South Pole ice cap, being trapped under the ice, the battle with the squids, the hurricane in the Gulf Stream, the Vengeur, the horrific sinking of the warship with the loss of all hands!…” The mind boggles at the twists and turns faced by Aronnax, Conseil and Ned Land. The adventure goes deeper however, thanks in the main to mysterious Captain Nemo, who secretly built this ahead-of-its-time submarine and spends his time travelling the seas. Nemo lives in a self-imposed exile on board the Nautilus, both for the purpose of scientific discovery but also to escape human civilisation. Though the trio are afforded every privilege and unbelievable experiences on board the ship, there is always a sinister undercurrent running through the story, as Nemo says from the start that they can never leave the vessel for fear of discovery by the rest of the world. Eventually, an escape must be plotted so Aronnax, Conseil and Ned Land are not doomed to spend the rest of their lives on the Nautilus.
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea is a fascinating and gripping tale of marine adventure, with a deeper exploration of the lengths to which people will go to overcome personal tragedy. I highly recommend diving in to this novel and immersing yourself in the wonderful world beneath the waves.
“We’re not colonising the Savages. They’re colonising us.”
Several critics have called Black Robe an extraordinary novel, and I would have to agree. Moore has created a work that is highly suspenseful and full of physical and spiritual adventure, as well as raising questions of morality, faith and identity.
Black Robe is set in seventeenth-century New France, or Canada, shortly after settlement by the French. The central theme of the book is the collision of European and Native American cultures, and we witness this through the story of idealistic Jesuit priest Laforgue. In Quebec, in exchange for muskets from the French, a group of Algonquin agree to take Laforgue and his young assistant Daniel upriver to help them reach a Huron settlement to relieve a priest at the Jesuit mission there. This mission is long and treacherous, and along the way both parties suffer identity crises as they struggle to understand each other’s culture and faith.
(NB: First Nations people historically called Jesuit priests ‘black robes’ due to their religious attire.)
Undoubtedly, Black Robe is a harsh, uncensored and bleak portrayal of life in this era, meaning there are many shocking moments throughout the story. The wilderness that the group travels through is totally unforgiving and Laforgue struggles to navigate it the way the Algonquin do. Furthermore, the native Americans are portrayed as having no filter when it comes to language, humour, sexual relations and more. When members of the group are captured by some hostile Iroquois, we witness some horrifying scenes of torture, cannibalism and sexual harassment. Jesuitism comes across to the reader as a thoroughly miserable experience, full of self-deprecation, fear of God and the inner struggle between human desire and the abstinence required by the religion. We hear in detail about Laforgue’s battle with this, and there are several moments where he succumbs, often by methods as uncomfortable as secretly observing his assistant Daniel and an Algonquin girl having sex, for which he punishes himself afterwards.
The most interesting aspect of this novel is the impact of this early colonialism both on the Native American and French sides. Black Robe demonstrates this mainly through the clash of religions. Whereas the Algonquin believe in the power of nature and the presence of spirits in the world around them, Jesuits belong to Catholicism and believe in the teachings of the christian God and the Bible. Moore said of his book, ‘the only conscious thing I had in mind when writing it was the belief of one religion that the other religion was totally wrong. The only thing they have in common is the view that the other side must be the Devil.’
On the journey, the Algonquin begin to suspect Laforgue is a demon due to his beliefs while Laforgue tries (unsuccessfully) to convert the Algonquin to Christianity because he believes their “heathen” religion will see them end up in Hell. However as the journey wears on, both sides struggle with an identity crisis. Once faithful assistant Daniel renounces his Jesuit faith completely when he falls in love with Annuka, an Algonquin girl. She also struggles to understand why with him she wants to be monogamous because her tribe has always been more free when it comes to sexual relations. Other Algonquin start to realise with dismay that since the French arrived, materialism and desire for ‘things’ has seeped into their culture when it wasn’t there before. Laforgue, who set out on this mission full of idealism and a passion to convert as many as possible, is really struggling with disillusionment by the time he eventually reaches the Huron settlement which is rife with fever and death. Black Robe culminates in one of the most powerful, thought-provoking final chapters I have ever read, which lays bare the confusion and desperation of both the Hurons and Laforgue caused by an unprecedented clash of culture, faith and moral direction.
Though not for the faint-hearted, I would highly recommend Black Robe because it looks at a pivotal moment in history and does not hold back in its portrayal of the complexities of a collision of worlds.
“Independence is all very well, but we animals never allow our friends to make fools of themselves beyond a certain limit.”
I was thrilled to receive a beautiful hardback copy of The Wind in the Willows, complete with the masterful original illustrations by E.H. Shepard, for Christmas. Though I have read and re-read many children’s classics over the years, this was my first time reading The Wind in the Willows and it was an absolute joy. It truly is timeless and can be enjoyed by all age groups.
The novel begins with Mole venturing out of his burrow to experience the world above. There he meets the brave Ratty, the kind Badger and the mischievous Toad. These four unlikely friends are in for adventures galore in the English countryside, much to the enjoyment of all readers.
What is brilliant about The Wind in the Willows is how Grahame has managed to create a story about animals, but has given them enough human characteristics to create a charming and amusing novel. For example, Ratty, Mole and Badger all live in their expected habitats – the riverbank, a burrow and a set. And then there is Toad, the aristocrat of the group, who lives in the mansion Toad Hall and has an obsession with motor cars. They are all finely clad in waistcoats and tweed jackets, they enjoy rowing down the river and always love a feast. Ratty in particular loves a picnic, containing delicacies like cold beef, cress sandwiches and ginger beer. They are constantly referring to each other as ‘old fellow’ and similar terms of endearment popular at the time, further adding to the impression that they are classic English gentlemen. And yet, we are still acutely aware that they are animals. Referring to living through winter and hibernation we learn that, “no animal, according to the rules of animal-etiquette, is ever expected to do anything strenuous, or heroic, or even moderately active during the off-season of winter.” Grahame has somehow created a world in which being an animal and an English gentleman makes perfect sense, and this makes for a witty, joyful read.
The world in which The Wind in the Willows takes place further emphasises that we are peeking into an English paradise. The summer is always warm and sunny, and the action mainly takes place along the beautiful blue river, where we have the luscious green riverbank and fields, we have the wild wood and of course Toad Hall which is reminiscent of a typical English country estate. The animals even have a few encounters with local villages, but they do not ever venture past a certain point, into the ‘Wide World.’ Grahame was partially inspired by Henley-on-Thames in Oxfordshire when writing The Wind in the Willows.
This novel came about based on the stories that Grahame used to tell his son Alastair at bedtime, and it is said that his son was the inspiration for the rascally character of Toad. I am so glad that many generations since have got to enjoy this tale which started off as a bedtime story between father and son. Grahame has created something magical and memorable, with humour and charm that will never fade.
“She had everything she wanted, but she still felt, at times, that there were other things she might want if she knew about them.”
I have already read two of Edith Wharton’s most famed novels, The Age of Innocence (1920) and The House of Mirth (1905), so I had high hopes for The Custom of the Country. Like many of Wharton’s works the subject is marriage, meaning that the subtext is divorce. The Custom of the Country thrusts us into pre-World War One New York, focusing on an aristocratic society struggling to maintain its old word social conventions in the face of modernity and new ideas.
The novel takes place over several years of the early twentieth century and centres on the beautiful but amoral young woman Undine Spragg. Undine and her parents have just moved from the Mid-West town of Apex to New York City, and her goal is to marry a rich man admired in society to kickstart her social career. Though divorce is possible at this time, it is heavily frowned upon by the upper echelons of society and yet, by the end of The Custom of the Country Undine has succeeded in dissolving three marriages in her pursuit of social “triumph” and is starting to become dissatisfied with her fourth. Undine is single-minded in her goal and is indifferent to who she may hurt along the way. Her various exploits take us from New York to France and back, providing an eye-opening look into society, respectability and the female struggle in this era.
Many have drawn comparisons between Undine Spragg and Becky Sharp, the central character of Thackeray’s Vanity Fair (1848). Like Undine, Becky comes from outside society but is determined to marry her way in; she is ruthless, cold and uses men to get to the top, and like Undine, she reluctantly bears a son who she would go on to neglect. However, unlike in Vanity Fair, there are no moralising elements in The Custom of the Country. No normative friends, no narratorial passages condemning the corruption of the anti-heroine – the literary tradition is closer to that of Trollope in The Way We Live Now (1875), which he wrote as a reproach of the financial scandals of the 1870s and how they revealed the levels of dishonesty and corruption present in respectable society.
Undine’s first ‘high society’ marriage is to Ralph Marvell, who comes from an Old New York Society aristocratic family. For Undine, marriage is not about getting a husband; it is instead an entry into the world of money, society and position, which to her are everything. Frankly, who her husband is does not matter too much to Undine, as long as he can fund her lifestyle and is respectable enough to allow her a life of amusement in the right social circle. Undine uses her dazzling beauty to manipulate men into doing what she wants, and the artistic, intelligent Ralph finds out too late that Undine has no interest in intellectual or creative pursuits and that she is mercenary and extravagant. However, Wharton critiques Ralph as much as she does Undine – he sees her as a blank page on which he will create his ideal wife who will fit right in to his fantasy life. As with her second husband, the French aristocrat Raymond de Chelles, once Ralph pierces the veil of her beautiful façade that he himself has imagined based on her striking good looks, he realises in a moment as comic as it is tragic, that there is not much substance to Undine at all.
Though Undine is not a likeable character, we can draw some comparisons between her and Wharton. When The Custom of the Country was published in 1913 Wharton was newly divorced after a long and unhappy marriage and she had permanently settled in France, where she would remain until her death. Undine is completely enamoured with Paris and it is there she sets her sights on the aristocrat de Chelles, and when we hear of her string of divorces and the fact that she somehow continues to be accepted in society, there is undoubtedly a hint of admiration in the narrative voice.
It is also interesting to note the cultural differences between the United States and France when Undine marries de Chelles. In some ways they are portrayed as very positive; speaking of America, a character named Charles Bowen comments that society marriages are unhappy because men take little to no interest in what their wives have to say, and do not let them in to the world of business. Instead, they furnish their wives with material things which they in turn pretend constitute a happy marriage to their fellow female friends. In France, women are deemed to have much more intellectual independence, and men respect and are interested in women with opinions, knowledge and academic and cultural interests, suggesting that marriage is more of a partnership. It is this fundamental difference that is ultimately the last straw in the internal disintegration of Undine’s marriage to de Chelles – once he realises there is no intellectuality beneath her ‘beautiful façade’, he becomes indifferent to her. However, this intellectual independence does not allow French women to escape the everyday tedium that comes with marriage – Undine’s expectations of a dazzling life in Paris with Raymond come crashing down when she is forced to remain at the de Chelles’ country estate for ten months of the year, fulfilling her wifely duties and always having to submit to the will and age-old traditions of the family. It is this portion of the book which displays French social customs as even more stifling than those of New York, and it is perhaps the only part in which we feel Undine has some justification for wanting out of the marriage.
Interestingly, Undine’s first and last marriages are to fellow Apex alumni Elmer Moffatt. The first time was a youthful elopement hastily terminated by Undine’s parents before their move to New York, and the second time was when Moffatt had made it big in business in New York and Undine had divorced de Chelles. Moffatt is of the same background as Undine and is abundantly wealthy, so provides her with everything she had ever wanted throughout the entirety of the novel, yet even then her inexhaustible selfishness sees her wanting more still at the close of the novel.
The Custom of the Country is a sharp and fascinating commentary on early twentieth century society, and expertly demonstrates how veils of respectability hide a world of self-centred ambition and a mutual disconnection between men and women. Marriage is portrayed as universally unsatisfying, while the triumph of divorce as an escape is only ephemeral, as it leads only to the next disappointing marriage. Though it may seem too cynical, I would definitely recommend this book because it forces you to realise the cutthroat nature of people trying to make it in the world through a string of scandals.
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