Charlotte Brontë's Shirley

This book has given me many things, among them a new scepticism of people hired to write introductions to classic novels. I don't know when Lucasta Miller wrote the one in my penguin classics edition but it's misguided enough that it shouldn't be allowed to sit there and mislead new readers. Her analysis represents all the wrong things said about Shirley in that what she says is wrong, and (more importantly) _about_ the wrong things and not what matters and why the book matters. Unfortunately we're told she also delivers lectures on Brontë.

Jennifer Judge confronts consensus in this text, which is mainly about the many forms of satire in the book, the satire one reason why sexist critics had trouble swallowing it originally. But why do they still? The main attraction of the novel, I feel, is put forward here:

Shirley, a “gallant little cavalier,” functions like a romance hero to save Caroline from what Rose Yorke refers to as her “‘long, slow death… in Briarfield Rectory’”. In doing so, she parodies defunct masculine heroism. Their friendship permits the exploration of their feminist and satiric inclinations, which are prohibited in public. In multiple scenes involving extensive and rapid verbal exchanges, the friends dismantle their culture’s misogynist stereotypes.

And argues that the novel's satire, "a genre or mode regarded by many critics (then and now) with general ambivalence and gender-coded anxiety, is an important source of long-standing interpretive confusion"

..which is partic. frustrating because the various elements, genres, styles and attitudes struck in the novel so perfectly come together as one funny, moving and savage attack on the patriarchy.

I've been thinking of the mistreatment of this book for a while but reading this text the other day and re-reading some dumb things kicked me into another gear.

In Miller's introduction she bafflingly attempts to position the novel as mainly serving a conservative, tory ideology. That the explicit tory players and tory values in this book are frequently and mainly ridiculed, that the book is so fundamentally radical in its treatment of religion and male judgement of women's place, in the home, in business, in politics, in the church, in literature, not to mention Brontë's specific dismissal of political contenders both whig and tory and party politics in general in her adult life, loudly trashing many of her romantic childhood ideas of sharp politicians and shiny generals, is not mentioned.

Annoyingly the novel's sometimes crushingly angry and pessimistic worldview (tied to Brontë's general mistrust in the ruling politicans' ability to fix society), though presented with a sort of gallows humor, is misread as passive submission, finally, when talking about the ending.

Here, in one of the ultimate unsentimental Brontë moments she faces the fucked up reality, that you can't just wish for things to be different when they're not, with a mocking grin, and "nature itself, which is consistently feminized throughout the narrative, will be further trampled upon by “manufacturer’s day-dreams embodied in substantial stone and brick and ashes” (Shirley pg 645).

Let's get this book to where Villette is, as the hip new Brontë book to like.

i have never read this book but now i want to

man i didn't even get round to villette yet tho

I disliked Villette when i read it in 2006. I'm holding Shirley in my hands though. Should I go for it?

You should, Tracer. Lots of amazing moments, like a big takedown of Milton's fallen Eve, Shirley gleefully parading around roleplaying as Captain Shirley Keelar, Esquire and throwing curates out of her house for being nitwits.

I disliked Villette when i read it in 2006. I'm holding Shirley in my hands though. Should I go for it?

― guess that bundt gettin eaten (Alfred, Lord Sotosyn)

The two books are not similar, really, so yes. Villette to me is still the most unbelievable novel though, in a good way. What went wrong?

I want to read both; was already craving me some Villettewhile reading Mary Gordon's take in this weekend's WSJ---among novels about teachers: she also picks Pnin, Land of Spices, June Recital, and The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

Villette

By Charlotte Brontë (1853)

4. Like 'Jane Eyre,' "Villette" is shot through with a poor, plain, intellectually superior woman's barely suppressed envy and rage. Lucy Snow is a poor English girl who makes her way to Villette, a small Belgian town where she knows no one. Brontë is marvelous at evoking the desperation brought about by isolation and anxiety and sheer emotional exhaustion. At the same time, her descriptions of the natural world have the rush and thrill of the best writing of the English Romantics. But the romance of teaching is nowhere invoked in this novel, whose heroine is nonetheless clear that teaching is her best hope for social and financial survival. Lucy falls in love twice, once with a young doctor she knows is unattainable—he prefers conventional beauty—the second time with an acerbic Frenchman, a teacher who insists that she stretch her admirable mind. There is no union in the end, but the Frenchman leaves her with a school that he has endowed so that she might have financial freedom. Being without her lover doesn't, however, diminish her instincts for what counts in life. "Few things shook me now' few things had importance to vex, intimidate or depress me: most things pleased—mere trifles had a charm."

Yes Villette is still the one. I was gasping for air after reading the chapter about the school play early on, where, dressed partly in her own woman's garb and partly in men's clothes Lucy acts out the male love interest vis a vis her loved/hated cocquettish friend Ginevra.

The spectacle seemed somehow suggestive. There was language in Dr. John's look, though I cannot tell what he said; it animated me: I drew out of it a history; I put my idea into the part I performed; I threw it into my wooing of Ginevra. In the "Ours," or sincere lover, I saw Dr. John. Did I pity him, as erst? No, I hardened my heart, rivalled and out-rivalled him. I knew myself but a fop, but where he was outcast I could please. Now I know I acted as if wishful and resolute to win and conquer. Ginevra seconded me; between us we half-changed the nature of the rôle, gilding it from top to toe. Between the acts M. Paul, told us he knew not what possessed us, and half expostulated. "C'est peut-être plus beau que votre modèle," said he, "mais ce n'est pas juste." I know not what possessed me either; but somehow, my longing was to eclipse the "Ours," i.e., Dr. John. Ginevra was tender; how could I be otherwise than chivalric? Retaining the letter, I recklessly altered the spirit of the rôle. Without heart, without interest, I could not play it at all. It must be played — in went the yearned-for seasoning — thus flavoured, I played it with relish.

I want to read both; was already craving me some Villettewhile reading Mary Gordon's take in this weekend's WSJ---among novels about teachers: she also picks Pnin, Land of Spices, June Recital, and The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

I'd include Stoner and Lucky Jim.

What about The Professor? Apparently got 0 interest from publishers, at least when she was starting out, but Penguin Classics edition has impassioned defense by Heather Glen! Right next to Shirley and Villette in my small town library; I'm intrigued.

The Professor is weird and great in a way more or less exclusive to Charlotte B. It starts off as seemingly the lightest and most easy read, a dude on his way up and out from his suppressive beginnings, but then this dude's negativity gets overpowering and every person and every thing around him gets defined by how snarky and dismissive he can be about it - Belgians, the English, Catholics, students, women, men, kids. And then it's suddenly a pretty depressing book. It's still an easy and entertaining read, actually. I'd read it last of her books because she gets a little stuck on certain things, like ranting about how pupils are the assholes of the earth, but it creeps up on you and when you're done you're not sure what you read and want to confirm that it's as weird and unsettling as you felt it to be.

There are other charming aspects / flaws (depending on how you look at it and whether you're Virginia Woolf), like she can't help herself with little asides and has the main character's love interest insist on being a working wife over several pages. Which is a good thing, and confirms some of her radical political ideas, but clashes a bit with the 'everything in life shits on you' theme of the rest.

I think part of the reason her publishers wouldn't print it is because it's a bit vulgar by the standards of her time. There's sex and there's rough verbal violence. Elisabeth Gaskell was quite disturbed reading it.

I reread Jane Eyre recently & am now reading Villette. Based on abcfsk's breakdown of Shirley & Prof, I'll definitely put those on my must read list!

Cool, and be sure to put down your thoughts because God knows I will never run out of things to say about this.

gladly!!

Re Jane Eyre, I was struck by how immediate it was, emotionally. I found myself so caught up in the story I was a mess of tears at least three times, and laughing out loud at the repartee between Jane + Rochester. I remembered parts of it from school, but was not tuned into how marvellous it is until I had the benefit of adulthood i guess. I always thought I preferred Emily & Wuthering Heights but now I'm not so sure

So far Villette is v intriguing, though Lucy is much more of a cipher character-wise, at least in these early chapters

Definitely not just in the early chapters, one of the great secretive and unreliable narrators for me - a labyrinth to be navigated (by us and also herself) like the titular town itself. Speaking of early chapters, I loved the coquette Ginevra from the first time we meet her on the boat and their relationship is weirdly fascinating the way it's presented on print and deliberately undercommunicated throughout, Lucy saying one thing and obviously often acting and feeling another way. Never faces us and tells it like it is but still we feel perfectly well what's being left unsaid. Not the only example of that in the book of course.

Yes, otm! I'm 2/3 through & impressed now by what a wholly circumspect & *secretive* narrator she is, adds a whole extra layer of flavor to the story

What did you think about the ending?

idk, it was strange?

it felt a bit too pat that she suddenly is so in love with this weird little man who is really v unlikeable

He's a provocateur, I don't really believe him when he's being an ass - not that this doesn't make him unlikeable, of course, he's a bit of a social dimwit- but in any case here's a person she can grapple with intellectually and who wants to grapple with her intellectually and she enjoys that from the start. She enjoys fighting and arguing with him. I don't think their relationship is romantic, and really I don't think she is a romantic either -- only wanting _some_ sort of companionship with Dr John as well, letters, stimulation, and in the end she and M.Paul _don't_ marry, which is a deliberate enough statement, and here's the one CB book where the protagonist ends up a true independent. The only one she really acts flirty and irrationally with is Ginevra with all Lucy's "you idiot!... come and hold me" manouvres.

The drugged-out city romp before the end though, man.

omg i loved that, so weird and fever-dreamish

i guess i got kind of romanty vibes from her about the little dude when he was planning to leave

i liked that she didnt end up with him but i guess i didnt find him much of a worthwhile counterpart for her, he just seemed like a manipulative woman-hating dick

The men in the book being awful defining women's role in society and art is a good excuse for all the highly entertaining art criticism CB can put in the mouth of Lucy and the bile directed at male artists depicting their idea of the ideal women. Also to be found in Shirley.

villette sure does have a lot of axes that need grinding

A previously unpublished short story and poem by Charlotte Brontë has been discovered in a 'much-treasured' book owned by the author's mother.

The manuscripts, which feature themes of flogging and embezzling, were discovered in a book belonging to Maria Brontë, The Remains of Henry Kirke White, by Robert Southey,in which she had stuffed sketches, drawings and writings by the family - including that of a teenaged Charlotte.

The Guardian reports that the book has now been acquired by the Brontë Society, with a spokesperson saying: 'We knew the book existed but we didn’t know it had these papers in it. They’ve never been published or come to light before.'

--

God this kind of stuff gets me kiddy like a kid on xmas eve.