Re-Reading, Do You Do It? Your 'To Re-Read Top-Ten List'?

The subject for this posting was actually inspired by Lisa on her literary blog at Bibliophiliac, and I mentioned that maybe I'd do a posting about what books we tend to re-read, and why.  So without further ado, I've a couple of questions for you:

1.  Do you typically re-read books?  If not, why not?  If so, may I be nosy enough as to inquire about what criteria you generally use in reaching a decision to to re-read a book?

2.  What books would you include in your 'Top-Ten Novels to Re-Read' List?

Regarding the first question, I do re-read books, and not all that infrequently either.  Most of the time it is after a few years have passed and I just get a hankerin' to revisit a specific author, or a particularly favorite novel.  I have a few books that are just timeless classics for me, and I just get more and more out of them with each visit (e.g., Tolstoy's Anna Karenina).  Generally, my only criteria is that I had to have loved it the first time around (e.g., Dickens's Bleak House), or I grew to love it over time (e.g., Austen's Mansfield Park, or Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway).

People tend to look somewhat askance when I casually mention that I am re-reading 'such-and-such.'  Typically, I get in return, "Why would you read it again, when you've already read it?"  Without 'smacking them up-side-the-head,' I kindly reply, "Because it was so good the first time I read it, I want to see if it still is."  That usually shuts 'em up.  Seriously though, folks, re-reading a favorite book is like visiting an old friend--it is comfortable, companionable, and there's always something new to learn and appreciate.  In short, it strengthens the relationship!  Take a moment and share your opinions of what re-reading books means to you.

My 'Top-Ten Novels to Re-Read' List (in no particular order):

Les Miserables, Victor Hugo -- A serious 'fat book' that is simply sensational.  I just purchased the new Julie Rose translation (2008) in hardcover, and am really looking forward to revisiting it soon!

The House of Mirth, Edith Wharton -- 'Oh, Lily Bart, Lily Bart, Lily Bart, whatever am I to do with you?'  I will always love this novel.  Edith Wharton is probably my favorite American author, and this novel is one reason why!

Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy -- Another 'fat book' that has stayed with me since the first time I read it.  This is the novel that I have probably re-read the most over the past 30+ years, and occupies a spot in my 'Top-Five Favorite Books' list.

The Stand, Stephen King -- What can I say?  Stephen King's "The Stand: The Complete and Uncut Edition" is just the ultimate post-apocalyptic tale.  My gut says that this novel will still be read 150 years from now. Oh, and it is another 'fat book' too!

Tess of the d'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy -- Tess, one of fiction's most famous women.  On that basis alone, Thomas Hardy's Tess of that "delicate feminine tissue" is well worth revisiting!  I just re-read it again for the first time in a long, long time, and was perhaps even more profoundly devastated this time around.

Jude the Obscure, Thomas Hardy -- I just finished reading this novel for the very first time, and realize that this is clearly Hardy's magnum opus, and there is a lifetime of study ahead of me to fully grasp this novel.  Maybe a modern re-telling of the biblical story of Job?  This is a hugely significant novel, in my opinion.

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, Susanna Clarke -- Clarke's debut novel, and just brilliant.  I have described this 'fat book' as magical, mysterious, dreamy, witty and funny, and incredibly engaging.  Without sounding too trite, the characters are Dickensian, the dialog Austenesque, some of the vision and fantasy of Lewis Carroll, and much of the prose like that of Patrick O'Brian.

Possession, A. S. Byatt -- This novel is like peeling an onion.  Each time you read it, you peel back a layer and expose a whole new world to appreciate and ponder.  It was this novel that allowed me to develop a life-long love for the poetry of Christina Rossetti, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and the Brownings.  I love this novel with all of my heart and soul!

Outer Dark, Cormac McCarthy -- Personally, I view McCarthy's writing as the contemporary American descendant of the Victorian Thomas Hardy.  This novel, not particularly well-known, is perhaps the most powerful of all of his novels.  It is a massive 'punch to the gut' to read, but the prose is powerful and moving.  McCarthy paints one helluva portrait of Appalachia in the early-20th century.  Read it!  Re-read it!

O Pioneers!, Willa Cather -- My oldest daughter turned me on to this beautiful novel.  "O Pioneers!" describes life on the Nebraska prairie at the beginning of the 20th century.  This is one of the most lyrical and emotionally powerful books by an American author, and is brilliantly plotted too.  It is interesting to me, but not surprising, that both Edith Wharton and Willa Cather were the first and second women, respectively, to win the Pulitzer prize for fiction (Wharton in 1921, and Cather in 1923).

Well, there we are.  My thoughts, and my list.  What say all of you?

Review: "Jude the Obscure" By Thomas Hardy

A few days ago I finished Thomas Hardy's last novel, Jude the Obscure.  I was completely overwhelmed and truly needed a few days to reflect upon the experience and collect my thoughts before attempting a review.  Bear in mind too, that this is the first time that I have read Jude, and I sincerely believe that this novel may require a lifetime of reading and study in order to fully tease out and understand the import of Hardy's message.

First, a little background about the novel.  This novel took Hardy sometime to write.  He started with an outline in 1890, and did not complete the book until 1894.  It was first published serially in Harper's New Monthly Magazine from December 1894 to November 1895, and then it was published in book form.  Hardy took a lot of heat for the novel from reviewers and critics, other authors, as well as the general public.  It developed a reputation as Jude the Obscene.  The relentlessness and vitriol of the negative criticism caused Hardy to forsake ever writing another novel of fiction; and he spent the remaining thirty some odd years of his life concentrating on his poetry.

I also want to include, at this point, a strong 'Spoiler Warning.'  In crafting this review, and discussing Hardy's authorial intent, I am finding it quite impossible not to discuss some relatively important plot points and elements.  Therefore, continue reading at your own peril.  All I can observe is that regardless of what I can say, or what you may have heard about this novel, it is a monumentally huge novel that simply must be read by any and all students of great literature.  Okay, consider yourself forewarned.

In some respects, Jude the Obscure can be looked upon as the coming of age story of Jude Fawley.  Others have postulated that it is also an anti-bildungsroman as it documents, as we shall see, the slow and torturous destruction of Jude and his ideals.  Interestingly, this is the only Hardy novel, that I am aware of, that starts with the protagonist as a child and follows him through his life.

In Jude the Obscure, Hardy addresses the prevailing Victorian attitudes associated with social class and standing, educational opportunities, religion, the institution of marriage, and the influence of Darwinism on modern thought.  Throughout the novel, Jude, Sue Bridehead, and Arabella Donn are used by Hardy to explore and develop the all-encompassing portrait; and to some degree, indictment; of the society and time that Jude and Hardy reside in.  It seems that the novel sets up an examination of the contrasts between the idealistic romanticism of the second generation poets, John Keats and Percy Bysshe Shelley (whom Hardy truly admired), and the more modern cultural movement of social Darwinism.

First and foremost, this is a novel of ideas and ideals.  Jude is a sensitive young fellow, always concerned with the lot of the animals and people around him.  As a child he is even dismayed at seeing trees cut down, and can't bring himself to scare away the 'rooks' (crows) that are eating the seed from a newly planted field that he's been paid to protect.  Later, as an adult he is compelled to leave his bed late at night and find the rabbit, screaming with pain, that has been caught in a trap and dispatch it as an act of mercy.  These are some of the first signs of Jude-the-romantic, and Jude-the-dreamer.  The ideals he has formed are something really quite different from that of the world around him, and this can't bode well for him.

The first third of the novel focuses on Jude's desire to become an educated man and become admitted to the great colleges of 'Christminster' (loosely modeled on Oxford) in Hardy's 'Wessex' countryside.  Jude, like Hardy, is an autodidact and teaches himself Greek and Latin, and views Christminster as the "city of lights" and "where the tree of knowledge grows."  Jude's romantic visions and ideals suffer a terrible blow when he is denied admittance to the colleges and is advised that "remaining in your own sphere and sticking to your trade..." is his best course of action.  Idealism aside, Jude now begins to understand that his social class and standing will continue to strongly influence his future.

Issues associated with Love and Marriage also dominate much of the novel's landscape, and can be quite painful to read and consider.  Early on, Jude is essentially trapped into a truly disastrous marriage with the attractive, but coarse young woman, Arabella Donn, the daughter of a pig-farmer.  Trust me, she can slaughter the animals that Jude cannot.  Arabella's 'unique' method of introducing herself to Jude is to throw a bloody pig's penis at him as he walks by while she is cleaning and sorting the offal of a slaughtered hog!  Simply put, Arabella is the 'Delilah' to Jude's 'Samson.'

Jude's young cousin, Sue Bridehead, on the other hand, is at times, one of the most erudite and intellectual women of the fiction of the late-Victorian.  Ethereal and fairy-like, Sue is an idealist too, but her idealism tends towards a more modern view; even though some its roots reflect that of the second generation Romantics too.  For example, Sue quotes to Jude, several lines from Shelley's great poem, Epipsychidion (Three Sermons on Free Love).  At first blush, it seems easy to assume that Sue endorses the Shelleyan view of 'Free Love' and not binding oneself contractually and exclusively to only one other.  While Shelley meant this from the perspective of sexual gratification, Sue has developed her own brand of romantic idealism that leads her to believe that it is only the iron-clad contract (marriage) that dooms the relationship.

I had to spend some time thinking about Sue and her beliefs, but I have come to the preliminary conclusion that neither she, nor Hardy, are anti-marriage, but that it is the nature of the contract of marriage in the Victorian age (i.e., with all of its trappings of submission, subjugation, and so forth) that doom its likelihood of long-term success in her view.  In fact, in support of this notion, Hardy made a notebook entry in 1889, in which he writes, "Love lives on propinquity, but dies of contact."

It seems that Hardy's development of the character of Sue Bridehead and the novel's storyline may reflect a portion of his own troubled relationship with his wife Emma and her increasing religious beliefs through the years of their own marriage.  Also, it may well be that Sue's character reflects a bit of Hardy's cousin, Tryphena Sparks, a woman that he is rumored to have had an affair with in 1868, and who later died in 1890.  Hardy, in the Preface to the 1895 edition of  Jude, stated that the novel was partly inspired "by the death of a woman" in 1890.

Even though Sue Bridehead bears children with Jude, sexual relations and intimacy remains a very difficult proposition for her.  For example, when married to her first husband, Richard Phillotson, she is startled awake by him entering her bedroom absentmindedly (they slept in separate rooms), and she leaps from a second story window into the night rather than sleep with him!  Again, much of the time she is with Jude, they also sleep in separate bedrooms, which has the effect of keeping Jude's passions for her quite 'hot'.  This is not, however, the romantic ideal of the loving wife and life-mate that Jude has envisioned for his dear Sue though.  It is also not the picture of romantic idealism for Sue either, as she is truly looking for a partner through which she can fully experience Love's spiritual and intellectual bonds, and not just the contractual or the sexual.

Toward the end of the novel there occurs such a shocking event that finally and irrevocably alters the lives of Jude and Sue, and largely severs their tenuous emotional and spiritual bonds to one another.  The romantic ideals of both are smashed hopelessly and simply cannot be reassembled.  Modernization has come and displaced the old world romanticism of Jude Fawley and Thomas Hardy.  Jude-the-Dreamer and Jude-the-Idealist have no place in this new order, because to transcend to his ideals means that he must die as Keats and Shelley so eloquently discovered.  Unfortunately for Jude, even Arabella is present to witness his final suffering and agony.  Jude's story has become, in a very real sense Hardy's modern retelling of the 'Book of Job.'  [Note the word play too -- the "J" from 'Jude' and the "Ob" from 'Obscure']

As I said above, I have a sense that I have probably only just scratched the surface of this titanic novel, and that there is much, much more to glean.  It is full of allusion and metaphor, and rife with biblical references and nods to Hardy's literary ancestors, Milton, Wordsworth, and Shelley.  Before I tackle Jude again, or re-read any of his other novels for that matter, I want to first read Claire Tomalin's recent biography, Thomas Hardy (2006); Rosemarie Morgan's Women and Sexuality in the Novels of Thomas Hardy (1988); and also delve into Thomas Hardy: The Complete Poems (1981), edited by James Gibson.

Read this novel!  When you are through, let me know; for I'd love to discuss it with you and see what you think too.  Five out of five stars for me.

[My review is based upon the Everyman's Library hardcover edition (No. 115), published by Alfred A. Knopf , 1992, 519 pages.  The book-jacket was created as a tie-in for the 1996 film adaptation entitled, Jude, directed by Michael Winterbottom, and starring Christopher Eccleston and Kate Winslett.  By the way, I am having an absolute devil of a time finding a DVD of this adaptation.  Any ideas?]

Review: "Our Mutual Friend" By Charles Dickens

I recently realized that I have, on several occasions,  referred to the "greatness," in my opinion, of Charles Dickens's last completed novel, Our Mutual Friend, but that I have never explained why I believe this to be so.  Therefore, without further ado, my review of what I consider to be Dickens's magnum opus.

In completing Our Mutual Friend, I believe that I may well have read one of the finest books written in the English language.  One could perhaps argue that Austen's prose in her novel Emma is more perfect; but Dickens's plotting and character-development in Our Mutual Friend is bordering on exquisite.  Our Mutual Friend rivals Tolstoy’s War and Peace in breadth, scope, scale, and number of characters; but while War and Peace proceeds forward majestically in a somewhat linear fashion; Our Mutual Friend, like Dickens's “Circumlocution Office” (Little Dorrit) proceeds circuitously, bobbing and weaving, exposing its mysteries and delights, one-by-one, like peeling back the layers of an onion.

In Our Mutual Friend, Dickens plumbs the deep and dark depths of humanity’s soul with the creation and actions of some of fiction’s most horrifying villains.  At the same time Dickens balances the novel’s darkness and depravity as we meet, and fall in love with, some of the kindest, noblest, and most good-natured saints and souls that ever graced the pages of any his novels.  One cannot but be completely taken with little Jenny Wren (“my back is bad, and my legs are queer”), and the beautiful Bella Wilfur and Lizzie Hexam, and kindly Betty Higdon.  One must admire and respect the steadfastness and resolute nature of John Rokesmith, Eugene Wrayburn, and Mortimer Lightwood.  One cannot help but laugh and smile at the comical goodness of Our Mutual Friend’s 'saints':  the Boffins, Mr. Twemlow, “Rumty” Wilfur, and Mr. Riah.  Then there are the multitude in the gray ambiguity between light and dark; the Veneerings, and those of “Podsnappery” like the Lammles.  But it is the grotesque evil of the novel’s villains that makes the good characters shine so bright.  There’s “Weggery”, an awful tasting dose of “Fascination” Fledgeby, all horrifyingly blended with “Rogue” Riderhood and the Dark Prince himself – Bradley Headstone.

From Dickens's pen, Our Mutual Friend falls forth onto the printed pages like the brush strokes on the canvas of the grandest painting of an old master.  Our Mutual Friend depicts the freshness and rawness of human emotions in all of its attendant forms, including: joy and happiness, pain and sorrow, anger and hatred, and love and tenderness.  Like looking too closely at a painting of Hieronymous Bosch, we have an almost macabre fascination as we follow the novel’s characters through life’s stages – life, death, rebirth, and even resurrection.  Primary roles and responsibilities are switched too; with children 'raising' parents, the disadvantaged aiding the advantaged, and the poor enriching the well-off.


In Our Mutual Friend things are never as they appear or ought to be.  On some levels, Our Mutual Friend is the quintessential detective novel or mystery; but it is really more a series of mysteries nested inside a larger mystery.  The reader must pay close attention to the seemingly slightest detail, for all does truly come together in the march to the grand, and most satisfying, conclusion.  Through it all, however, there is one overarching and unifying theme, one thread that connects all–The River Thames.  The Thames is the source of life, of death, of rebirth, and even resurrection; it infects and purifies; it is the source of depravity, horror, hope, and even prosperity.  The river is always there, relentlessly rushing onward, carrying the flotsam and jetsam, and the hopes and desires, of the novel’s characters, and even those of the reader.  All I can say, upon turning the last page with a 'sigh', is that this is a novel for the ages; and one that I shall visit and revisit; setting forth again in my little boat upon the river of Our Mutual Friend.

I awarded this five of five stars, and highly recommend it.  This novel has become a personal favorite of mine, and is right up there with Bleak House and Little Dorrit.  Also, if you enjoy the period drama film adaptations prepared by the BBC, go find yourself the six-hour miniseries done in 1998.  It is very well done!  The photograph I've included is of some of the cast members from this adaptation.

Review: "Tess of the d'Urbervilles" By Thomas Hardy

I have almost finished reading much of the major fiction of Thomas Hardy this summer.  I just completed a re-reading of Tess of the d'Urbervilles.  As I recall, the last time I read this novel was in the mid-1970s while I was in the U.S. Coast Guard.  All I can say is that this has to have been one of the most intense novels that I believe that I've ever read.  Reading this book rivals the literary and emotional experiences I have had with Hardy's The Return of the Native, Charlotte Bronte's Villette, Dickens's Our Mutual Friend, and Tolstoy's masterpiece, Anna Karenina.  In my opinion, Tess of the d'Urbervilles is one of the monumental literary achievements of the entire Victorian Era.  A stunning novel!

A tragedy in six parts, Tess of the d'Urbervilles is set in Hardy's fictional Wessex in southwestern England.  The novel follows the beautiful Tess Durbeyfield from the age of about sixteen until she is about twenty or twenty-one.  The story's plot revolves around Tess and the two men that feature prominently in her life; the first is Alec Stoke-d'Urberville; and the second, Angel Clare, is the youngest son of a country parson.  Like in all of Hardy's novels, names are everything.  For example, it turns out that even Tess's name, 'Durbeyfield,' is simply a corruption, over time, of the name of her noble d'Urberville ancestors who now reside in their stone vaults in the church-yard in Kingsbere.

With all the recent reviews of Hardy’s novels that I have written this summer I am sure that I am beginning to sound like a broken record, but Hardy’s descriptions of the pastoral lives of the Wessex simple folk are ever so beautiful and enchanting.  With his descriptions I always feel like I am right there experiencing the moment with the characters of the novel.  Even in the scenes loaded with human drama and pathos there is always the touchstone to the natural environment.  Hardy’s literary signature seems to be his ability to relate, and even bind together, the natural environment with the environment of real human emotion.

This is a novel of double-standards and sacrifice and the young and noble Tess is the unfortunate recipient of the negative consequences associated with the actions and feelings of both Alec and Angel.  Tess becomes, if you will, the Magdalen continually seeking redemption from those who probably can't, or won't grant it.  Based upon Hardy's own view of the Victorian society, it was highly unlikely that the Magdalen could be absolved or redeemed, and I believe that that realization must have affected him profoundly.  In reading this novel, I have come to believe that Hardy loved Tess more than any other woman that he "invented" and wrote about; you can almost feel his love for this "pure woman" emanating from each page.  Hardy wrote in one of his notebooks in 1895 that “Love lives on propinquity, but dies of contact.”  For me, this relatively short sentence completely illuminates the common thread and theme that links every one of Hardy’s novels and much of his poetry.

Symbolism, visual imagery, and allusion are all deftly used by Hardy as this 'folk tale' is recounted; and at times it does feel like a nightmarish and horrifying folk tale told around the fire on a dark and stormy night.  There are numerous references to Milton's Paradise Lost, the Book of Genesis, and several of the Pauline letters of The New Testament.  This is a harsh and unforgiving world that Tess finds herself in, with 'Punishment' the watchword and little in the way of 'Hope' or 'Happiness' looming on her horizon.  Mixed with the religious, there are also numerous examples of pagan symbolism and rituals; all of which contribute to the colored pigments that Hardy has applied to the canvas of Tess's life as the sacrificial victim of her society.

Having now read most of Hardy's novels, and a good number of his short stories, I can make the observation that Hardy likes to include a 'witch' in his tales.  There are good witches and bad witches, but they are all here in Hardy’s Wessex, including: 'Bathsheba Everdene' (Far From the Madding Crowd); 'Eustacia Vye' (The Return of the Native); 'Lucetta Le Sueur' or ‘Elizabeth Jane’ (The Mayor of Casterbridge); 'Felice Charmond' (The Woodlanders); 'Tess'; and, finally, 'Sue Bridehead' and ‘Arabella Donn’ (Jude the Obscure).  Think about it for a momentl; but each of these women absolutely bewitches and intoxicates one or more of the male characters in each of the novels; generally with tragic and disastrous results.  And Tess is no different.  Both Alec and Angel are completely besotted with Tess, and almost continually blame her for being a 'temptress'; the 'Eve' to their 'Adam.' 

I have to say that both, Alec and Angel, infuriated me to no end throughout much of the novel.  While Tess, with her simple ways and innocence, makes bad decisions (with Fate's kind help, I might add), these two men are the basest, most cowardly and hypocritical, and end up becoming two of the most despicable male protagonists in fiction, in my opinion.  Each of these men, at numerous times, could well have done the right thing and brought Tess salvation and full redemption, as well as given her the love and affection that she so desired and deserved.

Finally, even when Angel Clare comes to his senses and realizes what Tess is, and what she means to him, it is Tess, herself, that says, near the end, "It is too late...Too late, too late!" 

For Tess it truly is too late!

***

Now it is on to Jude the Obscure.

[My review was based upon the Everyman's Library hardcover edition of Tess of the d'Urbervilles, published in 1991 by Alfred A.Knopf.  The black and white photograph accompanying this review was taken by me on Christmas Eve in 2006 in a cornfield near my daughter's home in Lincoln, Nebraska.  Somehow, this image reminds me of the fields and tree-lined borders of Hardy's Wessex countryside.  'Click' on the image for a larger view.  Enjoy!]

Review: "The Woodlanders" By Thomas Hardy

I am continuing on with my summer of reading the written works of George Eliot and Thomas Hardy.  I just finished reading Thomas Hardy's beautiful novel The Woodlanders last night.  I have been reading Hardy's novels in the order in which he wrote them, and The Woodlanders, first published in 1887, follows closely on the heels of The Mayor of Casterbridge (1886).  In all honesty, I very much enjoyed this novel much, much more than the relentlessly tragic tale told in The Mayor of Casterbridge (see review below, dated July 13th).

Hardy has an amazing knack for thoroughly placing his reader into the environment of his novel.  Interesting to me too, is that each of Hardy's novels tends to focus on a different environment and ecology found within the fictional Wessex region of southwestern England.  For example, in A Pair of Blue Eyes, the reader becomes fully immersed in the beauty of the vales, forests, and sea-cliffs along the Cornwall coastline; in The Return of the Native Hardy brings vividly to life the peoples and environment of the Egdon Heath; and in Far From the Madding Crowd we are treated to the rolling hills and pastoral landscape of small rural English farms and pastures used by the sheep herders and their flocks; and, finally, The Mayor of Casterbridge largely takes place in the urban environment of his fictional town, Casterbridge.

In The Woodlanders the reader is introduced to the shaded and leafy world of the forest of Blackmoor Vale and the hamlet of Little Hintock.  The novel's characters live in the midst of this forested world and make a living with and among the trees.  They are involved in lumbering, forestry, and management of  orchards.  It is a beautiful environment, and lovingly described and re-described by Hardy as the course of the novel moves through the seasons of the year.

I love how Hardy integrates the 'mood' of his environment into the plot of the novel.  The sounds, sights, and smells of the forest and bridle paths are as much a part of The Woodlanders as are the dialog, thoughts and actions of the characters themselves.  In fact, I have come to realize that Hardy intentionally develops the environment in each of his novels to become a fully empowered character in the same sense as his human players.  Also, this novel seems to have been one of Hardy's favorites as it was based upon the area where his mother had grown up, a location that he was apparently quite fond of.

The novel revolves around Grace Melbury, a young woman who returns to her father's and stepmother's home in Little Hintock, after some years away becoming educated and more socially refined.  Unlike Clym Yeobright, in The Return of the Native, Grace is not quite sure that she really wants to remain in the forest of Little Hintock surrounded by the peasant class of her childhood.  Her father sent her off to school and has always encouraged her to aspire to a 'grander' lifestyle.  She returns to find the young man that still loves her, Giles Winterborne, is still there, and working for her father's timber business, and operating a traveling apple cider press during the harvest season.  At first blush it would seem that all looks well for the future of Grace and Giles.

As is typical in a Hardy novel, Fate and Irony have a curious way of inserting themselves, generally quite tragically, into the lives of the plot's characters.  Quickly the reader is also introduced to the novel's other players:  the steadfast and loyal young peasant woman, Marty South; the newly arrived gentlemanly young doctor, Edred Fitzpiers; and the local landowner, the widowed Mrs. Felice Charmond.  While Giles and Marty are relatively contented and happy folk of the forest, Dr. Fitzpiers and Mrs. Charmond are clearly out of their element in the Blackmoor Vale, and Grace Melbury is betwixt and between as she endeavors to determine the course of her future.

I really do not want to give anything of the plot away at all, but suffice it to say that the novel is quite seductive in that while the reader becomes completely enthralled with the pastoral scenes and life in the forest around Little Hintock, there is at the same time an incredibly epic and pathos-driven tragic drama that is unfolding and spiraling out of control that is of almost Shakespearean proportions.  It really is vintage Hardy!  I honestly couldn't put the book down for several days.

I loved the characters of Giles Winterborne and Marty South.  These are two people who are completely in touch with the natural world around them in Blackmoor Vale.  Hardy describes a scene deep in the forest with Marty helping Giles plant new seedling trees to replace those harvested by the foresters,

"Winterborne's fingers were endowed with a gentle conjurer's touch in spreading the roots of each little tree, resulting in a sort of caress under which the delicate fibres all laid themselves out in in their proper directions for growth.  He put most of these roots towards the south-west; for, he said, in forty years' time, when some great gale is blowing from that quarter, the trees will require the strongest holdfast on that side to stand against it and not fall.

'How they sigh directly when we put 'em upright, though while they are lying down they don't sigh at all,' said Marty.

'Do they?' said Giles.  'I've never noticed it.'

She erected one of the young pines into its hole, and held up her finger; the soft musical breathing instantly set in which was not to cease night or day till the grown tree should be felled--probably long after the two planters had been felled themselves.

Now that's just some great prose!  I found myself, time and again, reading a section like this, and then re-reading it and just reveling in the lilting lyricism of Hardy's sentences and paragraphs.

A couple of final thoughts--

As you read the novel, periodically refer to the single stanza of poetry, written by Hardy, that serves as the novel's epigraph, and give it some thought,

"Not boskiest bow'r,
When hearts are ill affin'd,
Hath tree of pow'r
To shelter from the wind!"

Secondly, the reader will encounter the term "man-trap" periodically.  These were large, metal traps that game-keepers and land-managers used to try and prevent poaching and other illegal activities on the gentry's lands and estates.  Hardy's use of allusion and metaphor is wonderful.

This was a beautiful novel to read, and I thoroughly enjoyed it!  I highly recommend The Woodlanders.  It is Thomas Hardy at his best.  Five out of Five Stars, and a Personal Favorite for me!

[The black and white photograph that I have included within this review was one that I took in June 2008 deep in the forest at the "Bartholomew's Cobble Preserve" along the banks of the Housatonic River in the Berkshire Mountains of western Massachusetts.  Somehow, this photograph evokes, for me, the image of the forest of Blackmoor Vale described by Hardy in The Woodlanders.  For a larger view of the photograph, 'click' on the image.]

Review: "Far From the Madding Crowd" By Thomas Hardy

I just completed re-reading Hardy's Far From the Madding Crowd, and just fell in love with it all over again! The first time I read the novel was last summer (Summer 2009) as a serialized group read with one of my groups on Shelfari.com. I loved it the first time through, but realized that I could probably find even more in it with a careful re-reading. I most certainly did.

It really is a beautiful novel, and so very well written with an engaging plot. The novel is loaded with allusion, much of it biblical; and even the character's names -- Bathsheba Everdene, Gabriel Oak, Farmer Boldwood, Fanny Robin, and Sergeant Frank Troy -- evoke comparisons to vivid images, scenes from Nature, or historical or mythological personages.

Hardy's ability to inextricably link the pastoral landscape of his fictional Wessex countryside with the emotions and thoughts of his characters is remarkable. As in The Return of the Native and the landscape of the Egdon Heath, Hardy makes the rolling hills, woodlands, hay fields and sheep pastures surrounding Weatherbury as much a primary protagonist and character in the novel as the human characters themselves. His prose associated with the placement and movement of the novel's human players within this landscape becomes almost lyrical and poetic; and as I am sure he intended, reflects his interpretation and representation of a time and place in southwestern England that was important to him, but is part of that heritage of what it means to be 'English.'

The story of the romantic 'square' involving Gabriel Oak, Bathsheba Everdene, Farmer Boldwood, and Frank Troy is a tale that resonates in each of us. We can relate, at different times, to the motives and actions of each as they pirouette through their dance of Life and Love against the pastoral backdrop of the farms and sheep paddocks of Weatherbury. This is the Nature of Hardy's beloved Wessex.

Like a hound on the trail, make sure to follow Hardy's use of the color 'scarlet' and 'red' through the novel. Read and experience Hardy's use of Fate, Chance, Change, and Irony working their primeval magics upon the landscape and human actors in this great play of Life. Far From the Madding Crowd is truly a timeless work from one of the Victorian period's great authors.  With no qualms whatsoever, I give this novel 5/5 stars!

Review: "The Return of the Native" By Thomas Hardy

Every once in a great while you read a novel that just knocks you back onto your keister.  Well, for me, this was just one of those novels.  I finished reading Thomas Hardy's The Return of the Native several days ago, and it made such an impression upon me that I turned to page one, and began it all over again!  The first impression?  Wow!  Upon finishing it for the second time?  I concur with the first impression.

This is the fourth in Hardy's series of eight 'Wessex' novels, all being set in his native countryside of southwestern England.  Originally, The Return of the Native was serialized in twelve monthly installments in Belgravia magazine in 1878.  Interestingly, Belgravia magazine was edited by Mary Elizabeth Braddon (of Lady Audley's Secret fame) and her husband, John Maxwell.

The Return of the Native takes place over the course of a year and one-day, and the setting of the novel is entirely on the fictional Egdon Heath of Hardy's Wessex.  In fact, Egdon Heath with its rolling hills and dense warrens of scrubby, spiny, and brown furze should absolutely be considered one of the main characters listed in the novel's Dramatis Personae.

The novel, as Hardy originally intended and envisioned, is a tragedy in five parts; however, he was persuaded by the editors, for serialization purposes, to add a final sixth book (Aftercourses).  Hardy even includes a disclaimer at the start of this sixth book suggesting that the reader choose the ending for the novel that he or she deems appropriate.  Hardy was not a fan of adding the sixth book to the novel.

The first fifty pages, or so, of the novel feels like something out of the Britain of the Druids.  Hardy's description of the Egdon Heath, the late fall weather, and the magical, almost pagan, customs of the people surrounding their bonfires next to the ancient Celtic barrows on the night of November Fifth was simply spell-binding.  And it just gets better! 

Early on we are introduced to the novel's primary protagonists.  There's the seemingly-Mephistophelean Diggory Venn, the Reddleman, covered in red, from head-to-toe in the ochre he uses to mark the flocks of sheep; the beautiful and good-hearted Thomasin Yeobright; the handsome 'failed' engineer, now inn-owner, Damon Wildeve; the solid and steady matron of the heath, Mrs. Yeobright; the 'Queen of Night,' the darkly beautiful 'wayward and erring heroine,' Eustacia Vye ("to be loved to madness, was her great desire"); and, finally, the 'Native,' who has returned to the heath, the only child of Mrs. Yeobright, Clym Yeobright.  The novel travels through the four seasons of the year with these six characters locked together in a tale of passion, drama, pathos, and tragedy where, in typical Hardyian fashion, only Fate, Chance, and Irony exert any control whatsoever.  Like a moth is drawn to a flame, the reader is inexorably drawn into the tale, and recognizes with a growing horror that a full release can only be attained through reaching and experiencing the novel's shocking climax.

The novel contains more than a superficial nod to the great choric scenes of the Greek Tragedies, and includes the gatherings of commoners like many of Shakespeare's dramas.  Hardy's characters' dialog is spare and clipped, but each word is chosen carefully and packs an emotional wallop.  The descriptions of the environment, the role of the humans in it, and the interactions between the characters reminds me of the great modern American novelist, Cormac McCarthy.  The Return of the Native is Hardy's Naturalism at its finest; and becomes an almost poetic homage to the interaction of the human species with one another as well as with the Earth Mother herself.

Hardy chose an ode from Keats's epic Endymion as an epigraph to lead off the novel.  Nothing could describe this novel better--

"To sorrow
I bade good morrow,
And thought to leave her far away behind;
But cheerly, cheerly,
She loves me dearly;
She is so constant to me, and so kind.
I would deceive her,
And so leave her,
But ah! she is so constant and so kind."

(Endymion, Book IV, 1817)

***

Finally, I want share one of Thomas Hardy's poems that directly speaks to his beautiful novel, The Return of the Native.  This poem is entitled, The Moth Signal--

The Moth-Signal
(On Egdon Heath)

'What are you still, still thinking,
  He asked in vague surmise,
'That you stare at the wick unblinking
  With those great lost luminous eyes?'

'O, I see a poor moth burning
  In the candle-flame,' said she,
'Its wings and legs are turning
  To a cinder rapidly.'

'Moths fly in from the heather,'
  He said, 'now the days decline.'
'I know,' said she.  'The weather,
  I hope, will at last be fine.

'I think,' she added lightly,
  'I'll look out at the door.
The ring the moon wears nightly,
  May be visible now no more.

She rose, and, little heeding,
  Her husband then went on
With his attentive reading
  In the annals of ages gone.

Outside the house a figure
  Came from the tumulus near,
And speedily waxed bigger,
  And clasped and called her Dear.

'I saw the pale-winged token
  You sent through the crack,' sighed she.
'That moth is burnt and broken
  With which you lured out me.

'And were I as the moth is
  It might be better far
For one whose marriage troth is
  Shattered as potsherds are!'

Then grinned the Ancient Briton
  From the tumulus treed with pine:
'So, hearts are thwartly smitten
  In these days as in mine!'

[Published in Satires of Circumstance, 1914]

Review: "The Mill on the Floss" By George Eliot

Upon completion of the The Mill on the Floss, I realized that I had just finished something monumental—a staggeringly amazing literary achievement. This novel, written by ‘George Eliot’ (Mary Anne, or Marian Evans), and first published by Blackwood and Sons in 1860, could have just as easily been titled, “Pride and Prejudice” had not that title been put to use already. Some twenty-four hours after finishing this book, I am coming to the conclusion that Eliot may, in fact, represent the absolute pinnacle of writing in the Victorian Age. This is not, in any way, shape, or form, a “Silly novel by a Lady Novelist” (see Eliot’s essay “Silly Novels by Lady Novelists,” Westminster Review, October 1856). This novel is not of the “mind-and-millinery,” “rank-and-beauty,” or of the “enigmatic” species. This is a novel in the finest tradition of Realism, and I can’t help but think that it must have inspired the later Naturalism of Thomas Hardy and his ‘Wessex’ novels.

This book should really be required reading for parents and brothers and sisters. The story of the young Maggie Tulliver, and her relationship with her older brother Tom and her parents is compelling, and is one that we can all relate at so many levels. It warns us that actions, things said, or beliefs instilled upon the young can have profound implications for years to come.

I suppose in some respects that The Mill on the Floss can also be considered to be the bildungsroman of Maggie Tulliver as Eliot clearly focuses on the psychological and moral growth of Maggie, her main protagonist, from when she was a little girl until she has become a young-adult. It is the ability (or inability) of Maggie to adapt to changes in her own life, and the lives of those she loves around her, that provides the main premise of the narrative. In the spirit of full disclosure, I began to fall in love with Maggie early on in the novel, and loved her more with each page that I turned.

In my opinion, Maggie Tulliver is one of the most engaging and endearing heroines that a reader will encounter in Victorian fiction. Eliot’s raven-haired and dark-eyed beautiful creation manages to combine the goodness, sensitivity, and natural curiosity of Elizabeth Gaskell’s ‘Molly Gibson;’ the spirit and independence of Charles Dickens’s ‘Bella Wilfur;’ and the wit and humor of Jane Austen’s ‘Elizabeth Bennet.’ Maggie Tulliver has a heart the size of the sun, nearly as bright, and burns just as hotly. She wants to please everyone, all of the time; and it is this propensity to love and be loved that leads to her troubles. Mostly though, Maggie desires more than anything to please her older brother Tom; and, in return, to be unconditionally loved by him.

We see an example of Maggie’s spiritual and emotional maturation in her heart-felt and frank discussion with Stephen Guest, a young man who has fallen head-over-heels in love with her, even though he is essentially ‘promised’ to Maggie’s cousin, Lucy Deane:

“She was silent for a few moments, with her eyes fixed on the ground; then she drew a deep breath, and said, looking up at him with solemn sadness—

“O it is difficult—life is very difficult! It seems right to me sometimes that we should follow our strongest feeling—but then, such feelings continually come across the ties that all our former life has made for us—the ties that have made others dependent on us—and would have cut them in two. If life were quite easy and simple, as it might have been in paradise, and we could always see that one being first towards whom… I mean, if life did not make duties for us before love comes, love would be a sign that two people ought to belong to each other. But I see—I feel it is not so now: there are things we must renounce in life; some of us must resign love. Many things are difficult and dark to me; but I see one thing quite clearly—that I must not, cannot, seek my own happiness by sacrificing others. Love is natural; but surely pity and faithfulness and memory are natural too. And they would live in me still, and punish me if I did not obey them. I should be haunted by the suffering I had caused. Our love would be poisoned. Don’t urge me; help me—help me, because I love you.”

--These are the words of a young woman that has finally found herself, and has reconciled the passionate and intellectual sides of her spirit. Arguably one of the most eloquent and beautiful passages I’ve read in some time.

Finally, like Dickens does with the Thames River in his magnum opus, Our Mutual Friend, Eliot weaves the theme of The Floss, the river that binds together the peoples and the landscape of Maggie’s world, through the novel with her use of metaphor and allusion, and pastoral description. The novel starts with The Floss, and through the course of the book it is always there, relentlessly flowing to the sea. In some respects, The Floss represents the things we say, feelings we have, or actions we take that get away from us; sometimes ‘flowing’ past us, becoming irretrievable and lost forever. Ultimately, it is this connection with The Floss that Eliot masterfully uses to bring her readers to the close of this magnificent novel culminating in the great climax that finally defeats pride and prejudice and brings Maggie the redemption she longs for.

“The Mill on the Floss” is a towering masterpiece—a novel for the ages.

Possession By A.S. Byatt & Some Musings on Poetry

By way of a bit of background, I should mention that I belong to two different on-line book groups. I guess they could both be best characterized as "Facebook," or social networking, for bibliophiles. I have an account with Shelfari.com and with Goodreads.com. They are both wonderful on-line book experiences; and allow members to join various discussion groups, based upon your literary interests. For example, on Goodreads I belong to a "Victorian Era" discussion group, and we are getting ready to do a group read and discussion of a "neo-Victorian" novel; and the book chosen by the group was A.S. Byatt's 1990 novel Possession: A Romance. I first read this novel shortly after it came out in 1990. The novel also won a prestigious Booker Award in 1990 (the British equivalent of the American Pulitzer Prize).

Possession is a beautiful novel, exquisitely plotted and written; and incorporates a substantial amount of Romantic and Victorian poetry. There's bits of Browning, Tennyson, Yeats, etc. scattered throughout. However, much of the poetry included in the novel is that written by Byatt herself, in the style of Alfred, Lord Tennyson or Robert Browning and Christina Rossetti. The poetry is critically important to the novel's dual plots too. All I can say is that it is all delightful to read!

Re-reading this novel has recently inspired me to pick up and begin reading selected poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Robert Browning, Christina Rossetti, William Butler Yeats, and Alfred, Lord Tennyson. I am pretty familiar with all of the Romantic Era poets, having taken a course in college, years ago. I was not, however, particularly familiar with the work of the prominent Victorian Era poets; and all I can say is, "Wow!"

For example, Christina Rossetti was the sister of the famous pre-Raphaelite painter, Dante Gabriel Rossetti; and she is simply a fabulous poet. A wonderful poem to start with is her longish famous narrative Goblin Market. Well worth some careful study, it is an epic poem that touches on feminism, sisterhood, and strong mythological and religious themes. Alfred, Lord Tennyson is probably familiar to most folks. He succeeded William Wordsworth as "Poet Laureate" for the United Kingdom, a post he held for 42 years until his death in 1892. Tennyson is probably best known for his book-length Arthurian epic poem, Idylls of the King. Also, I dearly love his beautiful poem, The Lady of Shalott; and who has not read The Charge of the Light Brigade?

In closing, if you've not read a truly beautiful romance novel lately; I strongly recommend A.S. Byatt's Possession. You might mix it up with a little bit of poetry too, just to make the experience even richer. Go find yourself a collection of Rossetti, Tennyson, or Yeats; make yourself a pot of tea, and settle back in your favorite chair and have some quiet time.