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IS HE POPENJOY? by Anthony Trollope
Sep. 9th, 2013 10:25 pmDecent one-liner quote: When we call on our friends to sacrifice themselves, we generally wish them also to declare that they like being sacrificed.
The novel is largely comprised of a complex, nuanced account of a marriage and the tensions and misunderstandings within it. Mary, a rich daughter of a Dean who originates from stable-keepers and tallow-chandlers, is married to Lord George Germain, a staid but sincere man who's the brother of the dissolute Marquis of Brotherton. They love each other and have some fine qualities...but strains are placed on their marriage, he treats her unfairly and she's not tactful (most of the problems are his fault but the patriarchy hurts him too), and eventually they weather the storms together. It's a beautiful, acute account of complicated human emotions and currents that blow us against each other.
It's said to be based on the Tichborne Claimant. But the focus of the story is very different to that Australian con man's real life; it's really only a hint of similarity. Both Popenjoys are babies and the question is more of legitimacy than identity. The concept of a rightful heir is invoked, but Trollope tends to answer the question, "Does aristocratic blood make one a good and worthy aristocrat?" with a firm no in any case.
The Marquis of Brotherton is quite an engrossing and complicated villain of the piece - a bad, self-contradictory bad man, who's drifted into badness principally out of indolence and has nothing to say in praise of it. He's a rather fascinating study and certainly contributes to the interest of the story.
There's a pointless suffragist subplot that is not very good; the women's rights activists (the interestingly named Baroness Banmann, Doctor Olivia Q Fleabody, and Lady Selina Protest) are shallowly characterised and about as interesting as Wallachia Petrie (though not quite as obnoxious). Internecine struggles occur in any social movement, but there's more to the movements than that. And, of course, to a modern eye we know that the suffragists were right - and blame the writer for not realising it. (Anthony Trollope was A Man Of His Time; he had pro-suffrage contemporaries who were also People Of Their Time.) These minor characters contribute little to the main events of the story, and none to its interest. I suppose they are there because they *were* increasingly there at the time in this particular milieu.
This blog, as well as seeming to be everything I've been looking for, has a take on the suffragist subplot I didn't think of - using it to show that as Mary's husband is unfair to her she turns toward the independent women. I think that since Mary's shown as completely uninterested in suffrage from the start onwards and only becomes more repulsed by it, the story comes across as if the subplot is only a diversion. But it's a very excellent blog entry.
Cut for slight reproductively related creepiness below.( Read more... )
It's certainly pretty good, especially Mary and George. The characters breathe while one scrolls down the computer screen.
The novel is largely comprised of a complex, nuanced account of a marriage and the tensions and misunderstandings within it. Mary, a rich daughter of a Dean who originates from stable-keepers and tallow-chandlers, is married to Lord George Germain, a staid but sincere man who's the brother of the dissolute Marquis of Brotherton. They love each other and have some fine qualities...but strains are placed on their marriage, he treats her unfairly and she's not tactful (most of the problems are his fault but the patriarchy hurts him too), and eventually they weather the storms together. It's a beautiful, acute account of complicated human emotions and currents that blow us against each other.
It's said to be based on the Tichborne Claimant. But the focus of the story is very different to that Australian con man's real life; it's really only a hint of similarity. Both Popenjoys are babies and the question is more of legitimacy than identity. The concept of a rightful heir is invoked, but Trollope tends to answer the question, "Does aristocratic blood make one a good and worthy aristocrat?" with a firm no in any case.
The Marquis of Brotherton is quite an engrossing and complicated villain of the piece - a bad, self-contradictory bad man, who's drifted into badness principally out of indolence and has nothing to say in praise of it. He's a rather fascinating study and certainly contributes to the interest of the story.
There's a pointless suffragist subplot that is not very good; the women's rights activists (the interestingly named Baroness Banmann, Doctor Olivia Q Fleabody, and Lady Selina Protest) are shallowly characterised and about as interesting as Wallachia Petrie (though not quite as obnoxious). Internecine struggles occur in any social movement, but there's more to the movements than that. And, of course, to a modern eye we know that the suffragists were right - and blame the writer for not realising it. (Anthony Trollope was A Man Of His Time; he had pro-suffrage contemporaries who were also People Of Their Time.) These minor characters contribute little to the main events of the story, and none to its interest. I suppose they are there because they *were* increasingly there at the time in this particular milieu.
This blog, as well as seeming to be everything I've been looking for, has a take on the suffragist subplot I didn't think of - using it to show that as Mary's husband is unfair to her she turns toward the independent women. I think that since Mary's shown as completely uninterested in suffrage from the start onwards and only becomes more repulsed by it, the story comes across as if the subplot is only a diversion. But it's a very excellent blog entry.
Cut for slight reproductively related creepiness below.( Read more... )
It's certainly pretty good, especially Mary and George. The characters breathe while one scrolls down the computer screen.
