Helpful Score: 2
Charlotte Bronte. Char-lotte Bron-te. How do you do this? How? Jane Eyre is my most favorite book of all time. But Villette. Oh Villette. How do I even begin? Well, I'll begin by quoting George Eliot: "A still more wonderful book than Jane Eyre."
(Could I have two all-time favorite books?)
Villette follows the life of its heroine, Lucy Snowe. Left destitute, Lucy leaves England and finds herself working at a French boarding school in Villette. Lucy, like her literary sister Jane Eyre, must rely on herself and endure. But, unlike Jane Eyre who edures hopefully, Lucy Snowe endures despairingly. Seemingly cold and never letting her guard down, you learn very little of what Lucy thinks or feels until midway through the book. Hiding behind her plain features and undesireablility, she is often referred to as being as inoffensive as a shadow (p.358). She hides her intelligence and ambitions behind this facade and keeps them unknown to those around her and to the reader.
Villette is a psychoanalytical book. It's hugely Gothic in its tone and story. It's romantic. It's confusing. It's surprising. It's heart-wrenching. Quite simply, it's genius. I can't even begin to summarize or praise it without giving away things that are better off being discovered by the reader. So I'll say to you: Read Villette. Make sure you read an edition with notes on the French translation (though lots of it will still be untranslated). Be patient.
For the time being, I'll have two all-time favorite books, but I wouldn't be surprised if Villette surpassed Jane Eyre. Soon.
"By every vessel he wrote; he wrote as he gave and as he loved, in full-handed, full-hearted plentitude. He wrote because he liked to write; he did not abridge, because he cared not to abridge. He sat down, he took pen and paper, because he loved Lucy and had much to say to her; because he was faithful and thoughtful, because he was tender and true. There was no sham and no cheat and no hollow unreal in him. Apology never dropped her slippery oil on his lips - never proffered, by his pen, her coward feints and paltry nullities: he would give neither a stone, nor an excuse - neither a scorpion, nor a disappointment; his letters were real food that nourished, living water that refreshed." p. 557
(Could I have two all-time favorite books?)
Villette follows the life of its heroine, Lucy Snowe. Left destitute, Lucy leaves England and finds herself working at a French boarding school in Villette. Lucy, like her literary sister Jane Eyre, must rely on herself and endure. But, unlike Jane Eyre who edures hopefully, Lucy Snowe endures despairingly. Seemingly cold and never letting her guard down, you learn very little of what Lucy thinks or feels until midway through the book. Hiding behind her plain features and undesireablility, she is often referred to as being as inoffensive as a shadow (p.358). She hides her intelligence and ambitions behind this facade and keeps them unknown to those around her and to the reader.
Villette is a psychoanalytical book. It's hugely Gothic in its tone and story. It's romantic. It's confusing. It's surprising. It's heart-wrenching. Quite simply, it's genius. I can't even begin to summarize or praise it without giving away things that are better off being discovered by the reader. So I'll say to you: Read Villette. Make sure you read an edition with notes on the French translation (though lots of it will still be untranslated). Be patient.
For the time being, I'll have two all-time favorite books, but I wouldn't be surprised if Villette surpassed Jane Eyre. Soon.
"By every vessel he wrote; he wrote as he gave and as he loved, in full-handed, full-hearted plentitude. He wrote because he liked to write; he did not abridge, because he cared not to abridge. He sat down, he took pen and paper, because he loved Lucy and had much to say to her; because he was faithful and thoughtful, because he was tender and true. There was no sham and no cheat and no hollow unreal in him. Apology never dropped her slippery oil on his lips - never proffered, by his pen, her coward feints and paltry nullities: he would give neither a stone, nor an excuse - neither a scorpion, nor a disappointment; his letters were real food that nourished, living water that refreshed." p. 557
