I finally finished this book, having found the last half a trial to get through.
The first half engaged me more. I admire Devoney Looser for her abilitI finally finished this book, having found the last half a trial to get through.
The first half engaged me more. I admire Devoney Looser for her ability to really dig in on the research, and turn up all kinds of quirky and interesting (or "wild") factoids. I also rolled my eyes hard at some of the conclusions she tossed off, mostly interpretations of various bits of Jane Austen's novels that seemed unsupported and even just dead wrong.
For example, in Northangr Abbey, when Catherine begs Isabella not to tell her what is behind the black veil in Mysteries of Udopho, Looser says, "We could interpret this line, wild to know yet not wanting to be told, as pointing to Catherine's desire to remain in a make-believe world. But we ould also interpret it as her admirably stubborn (and rather unfeminine) desire to learn on her own."
Which reads to me as a rather breathless, pearl-clutching way of saying, "Catherine didn't want spoilers."
Looser later quotes a portion of Austen's decidedly tongue-in-cheek ending for Northanger Abbey : "It is a new circumstance in romance, I acknowledge, and dreadfully derogatory of an heroine's dignity; but if it be as new in common life, the credit of a wild imagination will at least be all my own." But then Looser goes on to say, "As this conditional statement must lead us to conclude, although Austen's wild imagination is not an everyday sort of wild, it's wild in the pages of a novel."
Um, no, I don't see that conclusion at all. First of all, Northanger Abbey is no more "wild" than Jane Austen was, from what little we know of her life. She's being sarcastic here! Not wild!
There are other instances where Looser's attempt to hang "wildness" on Austen herself, or on her fictions, strain incredulity in order to keep the word squarely before the reader's eye. So rigorous is this determination that I began to flinch a little each time a new "wild" cropped up
So it took me a long time to finish the book. In conclusion, good points for me: diligent research, and some interesting early chapters. The last half could have been chopped as I have zero interest in tracking down Jane Austen erotic fanfiction (and there's tons more of it than Looser seems aware), nor in Austen films that never got made, or in obscure books that make up facts about Austen with zero support, or in a long list of famous people who loathed or loved Jane Austen's work. But those items might entertain another reader, and read less like they were there to pad out a text to book length, when it just as well could have been a lengthy paper for JSTOR....more
The title is misleading, I'll say up front; if you're looking for a rousing tale of an early campaigner for the rights of women a la Mary WollstonecroThe title is misleading, I'll say up front; if you're looking for a rousing tale of an early campaigner for the rights of women a la Mary Wollstonecroft or Olympe de Gouges or even Queen Christina, you're going to be disappointed. Julie is a very minor figure on the Eastern European/Russian scene before, during, and after the Napoleonic ructions, about whom almost nothing has been written, her scant letters mostly lost, even her grave lost.
On the other hand, if you want an engaging look at the weird tangle of dynastic marriages as borders got drawn and redrawn before Napoleon blustered through, then retreated again, leaving the map of Europe to be redrawn yet again, you might find this book as worthwhile as I did. There just isn't much written in English about that end of Europe during the late eighteenth century and early-mid nineteenth; Napoloeon seems to take up al the real estate history-wise. Though glimpses into Julie's inner life pretty much all are supposition, there is enough quoted from period letters and memoirs to furnish us vivid glimpses of the other major players, plus what it was like to travel at that time.
This book is a great glimpse of the end of Catherine the Great's life, the tangle of her descendants' lives, and how yet another hapless daughter of nobility/royaltie got cut adrift, her life pretty much shipwrecked by politics and the rotten behavior of men. And julie's husband Konstantin, to whom she was married at age fourteen, is a prime example of a thoroughly nasty piece of work....more
At first I was skepical that anyone could get an entire book from Revere's eighteen-mile ride on a single night during the complex mess that we now caAt first I was skepical that anyone could get an entire book from Revere's eighteen-mile ride on a single night during the complex mess that we now call the Revolutionary War.
But I LOVRD this book.
It's exactly the kind of history I like most: well researched evocations of all the people involved, not just military leaders. Kennedy takes the time to give vivid biographical sketches of key people on both sides (key being those around Revere, including some whose names are scarcely a footnote in broader histories), and then conveys a cinematic feel for the geography of the time. What it must have been like to live there. What everyone saw. What the survivors said later.
Then, after the Ride, we get a sketch of the poem that kept the legend alive, and then brief sketches of other famous riders.
All in all, I thought it was a terrific book for the sort of person who walks the Freedom Trail, or goes to various sites, and squints past telephone poles and stuccoed box buildings and automobiles and all the other detritus of modern life for what it must have been like in those tense days....more
The title, the reader soon learns, is literal. The author explains why she decided to assemble a shelf of Jane Austen’s books—that is, the ones, writtThe title, the reader soon learns, is literal. The author explains why she decided to assemble a shelf of Jane Austen’s books—that is, the ones, written by women, that Austen read and mentioned in her letters.
The Jane Austen fan, or reader of Enlightenment Era books is aware that Austen undoubtedly read a lot more than we see named in the letters, which are a fraction of those she wrote. There is no mention of Aphra Behn, or Mary Davys, or even Eliza Heywood, whose great popularity a generation before Austen was born surely meant that her books were to be found in any library that included novels. But these are the names culled from the letters that Jane Austen’s sister Cassandra left for us.
In this book, Romney sets out to acquaint herself with not only the works of these female authors, but with the writers themselves. Most of these authors I’ve already encountered, but I find it fun to read others’ takes on their work. And I really enjoy a literary exploration that brings in the writer’s own experiences and perspective.
Romney is a rare book dealer, which shapes the structure of this book; though I did skim past descriptions of searches for specific copies, and the deets of auctions, as I have never had the discretionary income to spend on rare books, I comprehend cathexis, and agree that some of the satisfaction of reading a physical book is the feel of the book, the font, the illos—and the commentary inside from long-gone owners of the copy. Plus one’s memories of when one first encountered the book, and the emotions evoked by picking up that copy once again. I own a first edition of Chesterfield’s Letters. The pages were uncut, which meant it sat untouched on someone’s shelf for over two hundred years. It might be worth something, it might not. But I would have cherished it far more had this copy been worn from much reading, perhaps with notes and comments from Enlightenment-era or Victorian-era or even early twentieth century previous owners.
So once I skimmed past the auction parts of Romney’s searches, I really enjoyed her description of the physical books. The feel of them in her hands. Her delight in discovering writing on flyleaves.
Another aspect of this book that I relished was Romney’s awareness of the human being behind the printed pages. She gives the reader a quick and sympathetic history of each woman, even of Hannah More, whose work Romney finally gave up on. (Um, yes, so did I. If only there had been even a glimmer of humor…) This book is filled with insights, and also questions. Even when I disagree with Romney’s conclusions, I can see where she’s coming from—and can imagine sitting around a comfortable tea room, exchanging ideas.
She begins with Ann Radcliffe, whose work I don’t like any more than I like Hannah More’s, though for different reasons. I don’t care for Gothick suspense, and the thread of anti-Catholicism running through Radcliffe’s books doesn’t make it worth reading for the elegiac landscape descriptions, much less the creepy horrors and grues. But I appreciated Romney’s digging into the reviews of Radcliff’s books written in her lifetime, and I followed with interest Romney’s detective work tracing the gradual disappearance of Radcliff from popularity, to her present near-obscurity. Romney goes into the “explained supernatural” (in other words, all the supposed supernatural encounters in the books turn out to have rational explanations—unlike Horry Walpole’s ridiculous and flagrantly male-gazey The Castle of Otranto). Romney points out that in keeping her books firmly within the explained supernatural, Radcliffe was bringing logic to an emotional argument. She then traces through reviews and news reports about Radcliffe the false claims that Radcliffe stopped writing because she had sunk into madness.
In exploring this idea, Romney brings forth the seldom-acknowledged point that Catherine Morland, the teenage heroine of Northanger Abbey, who is so delighted by her discovery of Gothic novels that she brings the “emotional logic” of Gothics to imagining Mrs. Tilney being locked up before her death, learns from her mistakes, which are made in the ignorance of youth. Unlike General Tilney and his own quite Gothic, and ridiculous, assumptions about Catherine. He, an experienced man of middle years, has no excuse!
In wrestling with Hannah More’s determination that human beings are morally obliged to stay in their place (that includes women being subordinate to men), Romney states: “I found myself sitting for ten minutes at a time with a Hannah More biography in my lap, staring at nothing. This, too, is a part of reading. What we feel when we read does not remain on the page. We take it with us. We absorb it. It doesn’t have to change us, exactly (though it can, but it does affect us. It becomes a part of all the little moments that make up our lives.”
It's insights like this one, strewn through the book, that made it such a delicious read, as she goes on to give similar attention to Charlotte Lennox, Elizabeth Inchbald, Maria Edgeworth, and Hester Thrale Piozzi. And then traces how and why these women, once so famous, fell out of favor.
Did I agree with everything Romney brings up? No. She calls the unctuous, freckled Mrs. Clay from Persuasion a fraud, which I think is disingenuous; it’s true that Jane Austen’s narrator despises Mrs. Clay, but her situation, and her behavior at crucial points, isn’t a whole lot different from that of Mrs. Smith, who is better born, and who the narrator favors.
And again, Romney, in mentioning Mansfield Park seems to regard Fanny Price as humorless (wrong), and professes not to understand why Fanny disapproves of Inchbald’s play being mounted by the young people. She doesn’t seem to distinguish that it’s not the play Fanny objects to, it’s the flagrant disrespect for the missing Bertram paterfamilias—a disrespect that all the others are quite aware of when Sir Thomas comes unexpectedly home. But I blather at length about that in my review here on Goodreads.
And from specific instances to general points, Romney maintains that several of these authors’ books are great literature, and deserve rediscovery. This of course goes straight into subjective territory. My own feeling is that there are indeed terrific moments in all of these books, and one can see how they influenced Austen, but (to generalize drastically) they share one fault: unexamined tropes, or downright cliches, both in plot and in language. Whereas Austen was side-eyeing these tropes, and the threadbare figurative language common to all these writers (such as blazing eyes, and frequent faintings, etc etc), and either playing with the expectations or abjuring them altogether. Which is what elevates Austen from really entertaining writer to genius. But again, highly subjective.
My point is, even when Romney and I come to different conclusions, I enjoyed her description of how she got there, and why. I enjoyed this book to such an extent that I plan to buy a print copy once it comes out, and to recommend it to my face-to-face Jane Austen Discussion Group. We should have a blast exploring all its ideas....more
This was an absorbing read, impeccably researched, thoughtfully constructed, and impressive in notes and bibliography. The book reached brilliance in This was an absorbing read, impeccably researched, thoughtfully constructed, and impressive in notes and bibliography. The book reached brilliance in the vivid depiction of exactly what it was like to be toiling through rough country in search of the enemy especially in the early years of the revolution, when the forming nation wasn't even certain it wanted to be a nation.
I read this, as it happened, while I was traveling through the very areas Arnold and his troops struggled through. From the train windows, as I crossed the border, I could look out at the beautiful countryside and imagine just how terrible it was to be compounding with that terrain through the heat of summer, and the bitter winters.
I appreciated the plentiful quotations from period sources, and I looked forward to the revelation of "Why?" But we really don't get a why. What Kelly gives us are strong arguments supporting Arnold's decision to jump the fence, but we don't actually have direct evidence for his inner process. It's clear that Kiley went spelunking for clues, and these are on display, but the reader will still have to decide for themselves.
The aftermath, and what Arnold meant as a symbol, and the consequences of his actions--both for himself and for the early republic--are well laid out. Overall, an excellent addition to modern scholarship about the American Revolution....more
This is an immensely readable, though academic, work on the evolution of German army structure. Military buffs ought to be aware that this work doesn'This is an immensely readable, though academic, work on the evolution of German army structure. Military buffs ought to be aware that this work doesn't focus on battles, operational details, or military nuts and bolts. Instead, Wilson gives reasons why modern English-written works especially comb over well-trodden ground with respect to the history of military Prussia, while giving scarce attention to the leviathan that was the Holy Roman Empire during the 1500s-1700s.
Wilson's focus examines the development of weapons, and the logistical evolution that supports the growth of standing armies through this period. That's not to say that there is no coverage of important aspects of military history--we get an excellent section on the design of warships, for example--but while battles are referred to, they are not detailed as in purely military histories.
I found it especially worthwhile in tracing the path from the mass levies of medieval times through the hiring of mercenary armies to the idea of a standing army. And as I said above, there is at last equal attention given to Austrian development: I've only found good looks at equivalent developing of the Holy Roman Empire's military in books written in German. This goes for the Swiss military evolution as well--their soldiers once admired as the epitome of the warrior.
The writing is smooth and interesting, and the background research formidable. This is a book well worth having for anyone looking for reasons for military evolution through the middle of Europe before and during the Early Modern Period, which informs the shape of European interaction in the 20th Century.
A sprightly tone made this general history of the Regency era an enjoyable read--funtil halfway through. It seemed to lean heavily on Paul Johnson's TA sprightly tone made this general history of the Regency era an enjoyable read--funtil halfway through. It seemed to lean heavily on Paul Johnson's The Birth of the Modern... until we get to the section on literature, and then I began to wonder if Morrison was an economics prof, or an engineer. But no, he apparently teaches lit, God help his students.
How many errors on each page? Stupid errors. For example, his intimation that Darcy in Pride and Prejudice was based on Byron. Um, no, Byron was maybe five years old when Austen wrote the first draft of P&P. In fact, Morrison's assertions about Byron being the first "bad boy" of literature ignores Lovelace in Clarissa--Lord Rochester during Charles II's reign, and for that matter, Byron's line "There was a laughing Devil in his sneer" would not have been nearly as potent without the influence of Milton's suave and witty devil in Paradise Lost. Handsome bad buys were a staple of literature well before Byron tried to live the life of one as well as write them. (And Rochester did it better.)
There was a heavy emphasis on Frankenstein, as if this were the only work of the period Morrison had studied. I began to mistrust his assertions in the remainder of the book because of these howlers, in spite of the impressive bibliography at the back.
A solidly readable introduction to the "Jefferson, Madison, Monroe" triumvirate. It is aimed at the armchair reader who knows at least a little about A solidly readable introduction to the "Jefferson, Madison, Monroe" triumvirate. It is aimed at the armchair reader who knows at least a little about the American Revolution, and is not an academic book. Had it been, I would have felt the fork-poke of obligation to comb through to cite the blips, both grammatical and historical.
As a general history, one to pique the interest enough to send potential readers to do some in-depth further reading, though, it works splendidly. Gutzman covers a great deal of territory in not only overviews of the respective presidencies, but also at least a pass at their private lives. (Yes, there's stuff about Jefferson and Sally Hemings.)
For some balance, to those readers wanting to read on, I recommend Flexner on Washington. Also excellent reading, with scrupulous fact checking....more
Apparently this is the second novel about the eighteenth century Romanovs, the first being about Catherine the Great. This one concerns Elizabeth PetrApparently this is the second novel about the eighteenth century Romanovs, the first being about Catherine the Great. This one concerns Elizabeth Petrovna aka Yelisaveta or Elizaveta, the second oldest daughter of Peter the Great and Catherine--one of twelve kids, of whom only the girls survived.
This is an impressive picture of how power distorts, (very very timely, considering the current tsar's antics, sigh). It also took me months to read.
This novel takes us through 500 pages of sometimes extremely graphic court intrigue and its grim fallout, as Elizabeth gets through childhood and finally attains her throne. It was very clear that the author had done mountains of research. The result, for me, was like thousands of colorful tesserae that never quite fit together into a picture. Part of that was due to the fact that so many years had to be covered. We never actually get to see her reign, but follow the courtly ups and downs of those close to the throne--one day covered in jewels, the next threatened with being immured in a convent, or tortured to death.
If you're all right with the GAME OF THRONES style royal saga (tons of piecemeal scenes of sex and violence, especially violence) give it a shot. The imagery is impressive, resonating with period detail.
The subject is women who inherited buckets of money, how they were treated, and how they lived.
Though the structure begins with the seventeenth centurThe subject is women who inherited buckets of money, how they were treated, and how they lived.
Though the structure begins with the seventeenth century in England, and moves up to the twentieth century, occasionally Thompson jumps around, sometimes for comparison, and sometimes because of connections across generations. After all, the world of the English upper classes is pret-ty insular, and a goodly number of the early heiresses especially were daughters of titled families.
I almost bailed early on when we get a highly fictionalized account of the life of Mary Davies, whose tragic life gets an arch, sarcastic summary by Thompson, full of innuendo without much academic backup. But once Thompson got that out of her system (and it might have been punched up to draw in the reader) there is a lot more reference to primary sources as she settles in to describe the jaw-droppingly awful state of women's rights during those centuries, and how heiress kidnapping and forced marriages was next thing to an established market. So very many of these heiresses were thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, too. Yuk. Not that certain super-rich widows faired much better.
Gradually she brings us up through the Victorian period when, at last, the beginnings of laws to protect women slowly began to trickle through Parliament. (Prodded by the cases of rich women--the plights of ordinary women are acknowledged, but lie outside the scope of this book.)
At the far end of the nineteenth century are the famous cases of the Buccaneers--wealthy American women who came over wanting titles. Thompson outlines the very well known ones, of course, including a look at Edith Wharton's world, but includes the not-famous, underscoring Wharton's theme that money and titles did not buy happiness: the women who lucked out were more often than not educated, with goals of their own besides being married.
Which sets us up for the Coco Chanel era--fin de siecle and early twentieth century, specifically rich women who lived for themselves, many of them outside wedlock, or not being married at all. A lot of these women became salonistes, or patrons of the arts, and lead the sorts of lives depicted in books and films, hobnobbing with artists and intellectuals, politicians and diplomats, or career adventurers of both sexes.
These women benefitted not only from a gradual push toward more equality before the law--and from being raised to be self-sufficient.
The book ends at the end of the twentieth century, with a grim look at Patty Hearst and Barbara Mackle, with a brief glance at the recent con artist who convinced New York she was an heiress, and bilked a lot of savvy business people of millions before she landed in jail (and with a boffo Netflix deal).
It's an engaging read, though with so broad a scope it's not surprising that it lacks depth.
A novel about a Black musical prodigy in the late eighteenth century and the early nineteenth. This novel is at its best when presenting the POV of a A novel about a Black musical prodigy in the late eighteenth century and the early nineteenth. This novel is at its best when presenting the POV of a Black man navigating the ignorant, prejudiced, and dangerous shoals of white European culture during the late Enlightenment, when Revolution was in the air. The novel is really more about George Bridgetower's father than it is about him, especially early on, when GB was a child prodigy.
One of the best parts about this book was the light cast on creative and innovative people of color at the time. White historians peer past Dumas, for instance, as well as others, but Dongala brings them forward, demonstrating their place and their contributions to the creative life of the time. Also, the novel provides some insight into some of the ways a Black individual had to deal with maneuvering in white culture.
Some, as I said.
I wish my French was good enough to read this in the original, as I don't know whether to attribute my problems with the book to the translation or not. I really wanted to like it more than I actually did--my reading went in fits and starts, despite the author's truly impressive research.
Maybe because of the research? It seemed that the author was determined that every smidge of research was going to go into this work, so we get long catalogues of what everyone is wearing, and exactly what the streets of Paris looked like, and the layout of the Opera, and long lists of arcane pieces of music shoehorned in apparently to get them in there willynilly.
The narrative voice seemed to be all over the place, sometimes up close and personal with respect to Bridgetower's father, other times vanishing to be replaced by those neutral catalogues of facts. I did not think that a novel set against the simmering Paris on the verge, and into, the French Revolution could be quite so stiff, but there it was. I also found the narrative voice's explorations of the inner thoughts of certain famous figures to be somewhat problematical.
The clunky sentences and awkwardness, the errors (like not capitalizing German nouns when quoting German), etc, might be due to the translator, but at any rate, though the subject is intriguing and the setting a complex one, I wished that the book did them better justice.
The structure is broken into chapters that focus on aspects of life, with examples given from a number of people who left behind copious journals, letThe structure is broken into chapters that focus on aspects of life, with examples given from a number of people who left behind copious journals, letters, account books, etc. This necessarily means the middle class and those ranking above on the social scale, as they had the education, and the means, to leave behind such records. So we don't get much of a look at how those below the middle class managed to live, except in brief glinpses.
That said, I found it a book to dip into and read bits over a long period of time. The focus on locks in one chapter, wallpaper in another, bachelors in their own chapter, spinsters in another, etc, furnished a fragmented sense, the more because each chapter followed a number of different characters. Despite the delightful quotes from the primary sources, and copious illustrations, I found it a tad dry because of this structure. If the text had jumped a little less from person to person and subject to subject, I might have found it more absorbing. However, watching the companion documentary after I read the book made me appreciate what I was seeing....more
I found it fascinating for a bunch of different reasons. First I enjoyed the story, even though the two main women in it were pretty much paper thin, I found it fascinating for a bunch of different reasons. First I enjoyed the story, even though the two main women in it were pretty much paper thin, as most heroines are in early novels striving for respectability. These one dimensional heroines whose primary characteristics were their beauty and their purity were not always written by men. Female writers could be just as determined to lift the novel out of the mire of trashiness such as the immensely popular but male-het-id-vortex The Monk (I think the author was nineteen when he wrote it?). One period writer firmly attested on her title page that her work was a romance, and not "a novel" as everyone knew novels were trash. (Jane Austen would had no patience with this false distinction: hers are labeled "novel.")
In Waverley, the cast is mostly male, and what a variety of complex figures! Scott--hitherto known primarily as a poet--sets out to put an ordinary fellow, Edward Waverley, through the '45. Which was in living memory for many, when Scott penned this novel. Scott keeps referring to Sixty Years Since, meaning sixty years in the past. He talked to a bunch of vets, and the research shows. He also knows Scottish dialects, and that shows. This is where a lot of readers bog down. But I've been listening to Scottish folk music for a long time, so I could parse most of it fairly quickly, though there were plenty of words I stumbled over--but I could always get the gist.
I could see why this novel kicked off the modern historical novel form in earnest. Historical novels had been around. As 17-year-old Catherine Morland in Northanger Abbey says at one point, she isn't sure why she finds historical fiction so tiresome when events were so big, but it had something to do with the dullness of the speeches put in the mouths of famous characters, and either no women or they were all good-for-nothing. Austen wrote the first draft of that in 1793, if I remember right.
I think the problem is the preachiness of those earlier, well-meant historical novels. Not just earlier. Jane Porter wrote The Scottish Chiefs around the same time as Scott was writing, or just before, and it remained immensely popular as a kids' book for the next century or so, but wow is it a fine example of what Catherine is decrying. It's the story of William Wallace, complete to virtuous speeches, for the Scottish hero is an absolute saint all the way through, including to his saintly martyrdom. The heroes are pure and good, the villains dastardly and evil, the story interlarded with inspiring speeches at every turn.
In contrast, Scott's book breathes tolerance all the way through. His characters are complex, and some are comical, but everyone has actual human motivations for what they do, and there is a lot of grace on both sides. The characters talk to each other, they don't stand and pontificate. He does whitewash Charlie Stuart a bit--but even the bonnie prince's foibles are hinted at pretty strongly, meanwhile Scott demonstrates Charles Edward Stuart's immense charisma--and some of the problems it brought him. (One thing you can say for him, he inspired some terrific folk songs!)
The narrative voice is wry, observant, and witty. There are some great comic bits, and some vivid action. The main character is pretty much a stand-in for the author (in the journal he wrote later, he uses the same language for his early education as he does for the hero) but this hero has to grow up during the course of the novel. I can see why Scott rocketed to popularity right off the bat--and also how this novel began to lift The English Novel out of the general lack of respect with which it was regarded by society....more
These selections from the four million words of coded diary Lister wrote over the course of her life reinforce the notion that gay and lesbian life waThese selections from the four million words of coded diary Lister wrote over the course of her life reinforce the notion that gay and lesbian life was very much a thing all along, but people dared not talk about it other than to their journal, or to a very trusted few.
Anne Lister had coded words within coded words. Such as 'kiss' meant sex or orgasm. None of the terms people used then got handed down because everyone had to live two lives, and the secret life was seldom detailed the way Lister does here.
She was born to the upper level of the gentry, though the family was running out of money. Through the diaries I gained the impression of a woman very proud of her class, and who thought of herself as a woman--but at the same time she thought nothing of getting out there with the men to do hard labor around the estate. And she ordered, and wore, masculine garments, such as a leather waistcoat, etc. She liked to dress male, and she also loved her femme finery.
She was also a staunch member of her church, and some entries indicate her inner struggle to reconcile to societal expectations, but she finally resolved that God made her that way, so it had to be okay, and anyway, most of the biblical references against same sex were aimed at men, not women. Because she was upfront to the aunt and uncle she lived with: she would never marry, and she "liked the ladies."
What's more, she had no trouble finding ladies who liked her, and who were willing to experiment, at least a little. She carried on an affair with a married woman--the woman having to marry because however else would she live? The choices were so few, and most of them pretty bleak if you did not have family money.
Anne Lister also struggles with crushing on women of a lower class. She is conservative, proud of her rank in life--a snob, in our terms, but at the same time she was gender-fluid in a way that many assume reserved for the 21st century. There are plenty of other Anne Listers through history, their voices just aren't heard for various reasons.
The rest of the diary is about her daily doings. She was not famous for anything, she created no great things, but she was clear-eyed about her own life, and how she wanted to live it. She also records how local men reacted to her, sometimes following her to offer themselves as a husband, and once, a man asked if she had a male member. So we get glimpses of how she was viewed in the community (she was known as "Gentleman Jack"), which again makes it clear that at the local level, gender fluidity was shrugged off in her particular community. This particular woman lived an otherwise ordinary life, suggesting that many others did as well. They just had to do it in secret....more
Will have more to say when I finish the last volume.
There is so much less of the fantastic and the dream state in this volume, and so much more about Will have more to say when I finish the last volume.
There is so much less of the fantastic and the dream state in this volume, and so much more about social interactions at all levels of society. The volume overall has the feel of comedy of manners . . . which is surprising considering that two characters are nearly beaten to death, and then there are the suicides. But the writing is so engaging, the focus on poetry and flowers and the minutiae of day to day interactions, and the cast is full of women. What they do and think matters....more
Will have more to say when I finish the series. I have been swapping off this translation with the Gladys Yang translation (apparently done while a poWill have more to say when I finish the series. I have been swapping off this translation with the Gladys Yang translation (apparently done while a political prisoner); this translation probably takes more liberties, but is more engaging for a Western reader.
This first book really is dreamlike in its blend of the fantastic and everyday life, verging on comedy of manners. Unlike any of the other Chinese classics I've read so far, this one focuses right in on women, including the servants. There is an enormous cast, and a great deal of description in huge wodges at times, and for a Western reader the pacing is like following a meandering river rather than Act One Rising Action, but perseverance pays off....more
I selected this book from NetGalley in hopes of getting a better picture of Benedict Arnold than was taught when I was a kid (he was basically Evil McI selected this book from NetGalley in hopes of getting a better picture of Benedict Arnold than was taught when I was a kid (he was basically Evil McEvilness) or the revisionary version I encountered in late years as reaction to all that flag-waving rah rah of the fifties, in which pretty much everyone, including Washington, was depicted as an opportunistic scumbag.
I wanted an even-handed account, so that I could understand his motivations for his shift in sides. Though I’ve learned from other books that changing sides (sometimes two or three or five times) during the Revolutionary War was not unheard of at all. But this was a very high profile case, and came at a time that especially hurt.
The main focus of the book is on three people, though the author takes plenty of time to flesh out other figures of the time and place—revolutionaries, British and Native Americans, commanders and commoners.
The three are Horatio Gates, the commander who turned a disparate bunch of farmers and artisans into an effective army; Philip Schuyler, who served as a sort of task force engineer in putting together vessels for the water battle, and of course Benedict Arnold, who proved to be a smart, courageous, if impatient and arrogant commander on both land and water.
The actual battle does not commence until halfway through the book, permitting the author to build a vivid, excellent picture of the situation, the emotions, the motivations, and of course the cost.
I not only got what I asked for—a basic understanding of what led Arnold from Point A to Point B (and its cost) but I got the benefit of a vivid, well-paced book that lays out clearly the strategy and tactics of the period, without sacrificing interest.
In 1791, Nella is an apothecary with a hidden, secret shop from which she dispenses cures strictly for women, and also poisons to women in desperate sIn 1791, Nella is an apothecary with a hidden, secret shop from which she dispenses cures strictly for women, and also poisons to women in desperate situations due to the law and custom being thoroughly on the side of men.
Nella lives by two rules: 1) Do no harm to women, and 2) Record the names of both the woman and the victim in her journal. !2-year-old Eliza Fanning comes into the shop to procure poison for Mrs. Amwell, her mistress, to get rid of her husband, who is a very nasty piece of work.
Eliza is fascinated by the shop, and by Nella . . . unfortunately, all does not go smoothly
Framing this historical fancy is a more mundane tale centered around Caroline, who after ten years just discovered that her husband James has been playing around behind her back. Unsure what to do, she goes mudlarking along the edge of the Thames at low tide, and finds a mysterious vial that seems to date to the 1790s.
If you’ve been reading a long time, you can guess some of the rest, though if you are in the mood for a somber, somewhat gothic tale centering around women quietly taking agency into their own hands, you will enjoy watching the expected scenes unfold.
It’s an impressive debut, at its best describing the scenery of 1791 London in cinematic opulence.
In spite of the title, this is really a series of short biographies, with an emphasis on Boswell and Johnson. So readers looking for a history of thisIn spite of the title, this is really a series of short biographies, with an emphasis on Boswell and Johnson. So readers looking for a history of this club, or others of the period, would do better elsewhere.
But for an introduction to the lives of some of the members (specifically those around Johnson and Boswell) this is engagingly readable, with a lot of pictures. The main thrust is the “good parts” version of Boswell's journals, swapped off with his Life of Johnson. What detective work there is focuses on episodes in which the Life of Johnson and the journals differ, with reference to other period sources.
The narrative thrust is broken up by brief, usually chapter-length biographies of their particular friends (or enemies) in the Club, such as Gibbon, Hume, Sheridan, Garrick, Burke, and Adam Smith. We also get a recounting of the life of Hester Thrale, who was so close to Johnson, and of Fanny Burney. There are also riffs explaining the political scene of the time, and some of the religious tensions both in society and between individuals. If you know the period, this will not be offering any new material, but it is a pleasant read, centered around one of the famous clubs of the period—without actually stepping much inside.
An engaging social history that, perhaps wisely, avoids reflecting the ever-evolving history of marriage, which was running in a not-always-parallel tAn engaging social history that, perhaps wisely, avoids reflecting the ever-evolving history of marriage, which was running in a not-always-parallel track to the presentation of eligible young woman through English history in particular.
It's a fun read, but I caution anyone serious about history to delve further, as I caught a number of errors. Besides naming the wrong king George (a mistake easily made) at the turn of the twentieth century, the farther back in history the more errors that I suspect arise out of the author not having made a study of these earlier periods of European history. Like the statement that conduct books (or courtesy books, manuals of etiquette and manners) appeared in England in the 1700s. Actually, no, they go back for centuries, an important one being various translations of Castiglione's The Courtier in the late 1500s--and the many, many fictional manuals of court and salon etiquette published in France all through the 1600s, which were read eagerly by the English upper classes, who learned French along with their drawing room polish. There were also reams of religious tracts whose purpose was to caution girls to be meek and modest
This goes for fictional reference as well; the single nod to Pride and Prejudice is completely wrong, a fact that five minutes' checking the text would have corrected. (Richardson writes, Mary belabors her time at the piano by playing religious tunes off-key--how did she get that from "Mary, at the end of a long concerto, was glad to purchase praise and gratitude by Scott and Irish airs"--which songs were not religious at all, but played so that her sisters could dance?)
Then there were the occasional textual errors ("He was bored of the endless banquets given in his honor . . ." should have been bored with), but these are all things a more diligent copy editor ought to have caught.
The bulk of the book makes an absorbing read, tracing the evolution of presentation/coming out/debut/debutante through the centuries, with tantalizing quotations from the letters and diaries of young women over the centuries. Richardson does a good job tracing how in New York society in particular, as the increasingly wealthy middle class caught on, presentation of debutantes became a business, keeping a number of side industries afloat, from the Keepers of Lists to flower sellers and orchestras.
Social histories such as these bring the focus to women's lives. Richardson brings the evolving view of debutantes to the twenty-first century, including very brief overviews of the burgeoning debutante business among China's new rich, and among women of color, for so long shut out of white class rituals.
I would really have liked seeing more pictures, especially of the gowns and locations mentioned in the book. But like I said, overall it was quite absorbing, in particular when the author got to more modern times, and could draw on more sources of material in addition to her own experiences. ...more
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