Surrogate mothers and the curious question of “reading askance.”

November 30, 2007


From her earliest Youth she had discovered a Fondness for Reading, which extremely delighted the Marquis; he permitted her therefore the Use of his Library, in which, unfortunately for her, were great Store of Romances, and, what was still more unfortunate, no in the original French, but very bad Translations.The deceased Marchioness had purchased these Books to soften a Solitude which she found very disagreeable; and, after her Death, the Marquis removed them from her Closet into his Library, where Arabella found them.

- The Female Quixote, ch. 1 (Book 1)

By [the Romances] she was taught to believe, that Love was the ruling Principle of the World; that every other Passion was subordinate to this; and that it caused all the Happiness and Miseries of Life.

- The Female Quixote, ch. 1 (Book 1)

In one of our study questions for class, Professor Sorensen asked what we made of the fact that Arabella inherits her voluminous romance books from her mother. I find it extremely interesting, because the Romance books simultaneously assume the role of a mother as well as an inheritance from her — they are the Marchioness’ avatar as well as legacy. But I think the books act as a mother moreso than an heirloom. They instruct Arabella in the ways of society: how to behave towards men, what the social laws and customs are, what to value (in people, in principle…), etc. And throughout the novel, Arabella often refers back to the books for guidance and advise, much as a daughter would a mother.

While Catherine went through no such indoctrination, there are passages that suggest that her education was not so much different. Although Catherine is fortunate to have her mother about, she does not have the privilege of much direct instruction from her:

Mrs Morland was a very good woman, and wished to see her children every thing they ought to be; but her time was so much occupied in lying-in and teaching the little ones, that her elder daughters were inevitably left to shift for themselves.

- Northanger Abbey, ch. 1

Certainly, Mrs. Morland teaches Catherine a few things, like the “Beggar’s Petition,” “The Hare and many Friends” and the French language. But from the first chapter, the narrator shows us that the majority of Catherine’s education apparently comes from literature:

From Pope, she learnt to censure those who
‘Bear about the mockery of woe.’

From Gray, that
‘Many a flower is born to blush unseen
And waste its fragrance on the desert air.’

From Thompson, that
—– ‘It is a delightful task
To teach the young idea how to shoot.’

And from Shakespeare she gained a great store of information — amongst the rest, that
—– ‘Trifles light as air,
Are, to the jealous, confirmation strong,
As proofs of Holy Writ.’

That
‘The poor beetle, which we treat upon
In corporeal suffrance feels a pang as great
As when a giant dies.’

And that a young woman in love always looks
—– ‘like Patience on a monument
Smiling at Grief.’

- Northanger Abbey, ch. 1

While this literary repertoire of education seems quite impressive, it’s actually more comical than laudable, I think, because everything she learned (or remembered, in any case) is utterly abstract and hardly practical. What does Patience look like as an emotional embodiment? How does it feel for a giant to die? How exactly does a young idea shoot? How does one recognize the mockery of woe? And what in the world is Shakespeare trying to say about trifles and Holy Writ?

This sequence reminds me of Paradise Lost and Milton’s generous use of epic simile in the poem. In one instance, the narrator compares Satan’s spear to “the tallest Pine / Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the Mast / Of some great Ammiral, were but a wand” (PL. i.292-294). Sounds pretty impressive, right? Satan’s spear is so big, that the tallest pine tree in Norway (which was cut down to be used as the mast of a naval ship) is but a dinky wand in comparison. But therein lies the rub — we first have to know how big the tallest pine tree is in order to understand how big Satan’s spear is. Problem is, we don’t. It’s so big, and so distanced (both geographically and psychologically) that we cannot comprehend its size. Therefore, the simile is kinda useless. And, consequently, so is Catherine’s literary education.

Therefore, are both novels arguing for the legitimacy of unconventional education à la “unconventional” literature, and the doing away with conventional education (such as maternal instruction and canonical literature)? Arabella views the world through the lense of the old Romances, Catherine through the gothic novels that Isabella gets her reading. Like what I talked about last time, while such literature utterly deludes each respective heroine, they strangely allow the young women to perceive truth (as opposed to falling for deception). I talked with Professor Sorensen during her office hours on Wednesday, and she suggested that I look into how the gothic and the Romances have educational value, despite their utter lack of formal realism. The reason why Catherine and Arabella get into trouble, so to speak, is because of their mishandling of the books that they read. They try to replace reality with the stuff of the gothic and Romances, rather than realize that, yes, heroes and heroines may not be dashing about the Italian countrysides, and houses do not always contain mysterious chests and skeletons in the closets, but the world can still be a scary place. There are General Tilneys out there who are gold-diggers who kick you out of their houses for being less richer than supposed, Isabella and John Thorpeses who are manipulative and selfish, and Sir Georges who… oh dear, I seem to have forgotten. So because of that, gothic novels and old Romances can be very helpful models and guides for young women to emulate and learn from, if applied in the correct way. “Reading askance,” as it were.

My goal for the next hour or so (or until the caffiene from my coffee wears off and I can’t think coherently): analyze passages in both Northanger Abbey and The Female Quixote concerning social scenes and reading. Are the heroines separating fiction from reality, replacing fiction for reality, or reading literature askance of reality?


Northanger Abbey: ITV and social isolation.

November 19, 2007

Naturally, since I’m reading Northanger Abbey, I had an itch to watch the ITV adaptation again — which, by the way, my friend tells me should come out in DVD sometime in February (the lucky UK-ers et al. already have it out). Watching it again was much more enjoyable this time around, possibly because my re-reading of the novel and my recently acquired (albeit, somewhat sparse) understanding of the gothic novel and Romance tradition helped me appreciate the story more.

But in any case, some thoughts:

John Thorpe is more pleasant in the adaptation than his original in the novel. In this, I feel that the ‘86 BBC version is more accurate in his portrayal. ITV’s interpretation of him is much too sympathetic — he’s a goof and something of a simpleton, but he’s still amiable. Not so in the novel! He’s utterly and completely unpleasant. His language is coarse, he has no care for his sisters or mother, and can be just as manipulative as Isabella (eg., his lying to Catherine about seeing the Tilneys — ITV’s Mr. Thorpe did it for his sister, and out of an affection for Catherine; novel-Thorpe makes no such justifications). Makes me wonder what in the world persuaded James to befriend the man in the first place!

As for Catherine, she is much more Arabella-like than I remember. It’s interesting how, despite Catherine’s naïveté, she can still deduce truth — just like Arabella can at times, despite her utterly deluded head. For example, in chapter 7, Catherine accepts Mr. Thorpe’s offer to drive her around in an open carriage, but immediately and silently questions the propriety of such an offer. Moments like this persuade me to believe that Catherine isn’t as naïve as most people make her out to be. Austenprose blogged about Northanger Abbey last week, and discussed briefly how Catherine makes not-so-good decisions based on her inexperience with society. I agree with that. The first chapter makes it clear that Catherine really hasn’t seen much of the world outside her village of Fullerton. Therefore, it’s not so surprising that she gets caught in these awkward situations — she was never taught what to do should such situations arise. So while her conscience and reason warn her most excellently, her lack of “social education” hinders her from saying ‘no’ when the occasion calls for one.

Which makes me believe that it’s not so much reading that gets young ladies into trouble, but rather social isolation and social education (or lack, thereof).


A Chance to Die: The Life and Legacy of Amy Carmichael

July 11, 2007

I’m going to try to make these posts as informal as possible, or else I’ll never get this blog up and running, because the more formal I try to make things, the more I end up fussing over the little things (like formats, tone of voice, et c.). It’s quite annoying, really.

I found a copy of this book lying beneath Gina’s bed a week or so ago. Having not asked her formally for permission if I could borrow it, I’ve been reading it “in secret” on and off during our afternoon break time. It’s quite a good book. I usually don’t like reading biographies or autobiographies (they always seem to bore me), but I make exceptions when it comes to life stories of the “giants” of the faith. When it comes to Christian books, biographies are my favorite because I feel it’s so much more personal and relateable and just plain interesting. Don’t get me wrong, books like Think Biblically! and A Woman After God’s Own Heart are definitely good reads. But reading about the struggles and life stories of men and women who ardently loved and lived their life for the Lord from their own personal perspective is pretty amazing. Makes them more “real,” you know? And it’s always so encouraging, knowing that they too struggled and wrestled.

One thing that keeps on sticking out to me as I read this book, is Amy Carmichael’s unquenchable zeal for her Master’s business of saving souls. Hudson Taylor, a missionary to China, once spoke at a local meeting, which Amy attended, about how thousands die in darkness every day without ever having known Jesus Christ or heard the gospel. She was affected greatly by that, as evident when she wrote:

“Does it not stir up our hearts to go forth and help them, does it not make us long to leave our luxury, our exceeding abundant light, and go to them that sit in darkness!”

(pg. 41)

For sure, it challenged and rebuked my own indifference and lack of love for sharing the gospel. If we believe that the Bible is true, then what it says about us having souls with eternal destinations must be true too: that we all die once, and after that face judgment (Heb. 9:27)—heaven or hell. Amy understood that well, as she found it impossible to just sit around when multitudes of people are dying out there without having heard the Good News that saves from an eternity of punishment for sins in hell. People need to hear, but how would they hear without someone to tell them about it? (Rom. 10:14)

In the song “Jesus, I My Cross Have Taken,” I really like this one particular phrase:

Soul, then know thy full salvation

Soul, do you know thy full salvation? Do you know why the gospel is called “good news,” why Jesus Himself commanded us to spread the gospel to all nations? Imagine, Soul—your countless sins have been forgiven before the righteous and holy God because of your faith in Christ! You are no perfect being, yet you are counted as RIGHTEOUS before Him (Col. 1:21-22), who knows and perceives the very depths of your heart.



Picture source: ChristianBook.Com