Lorna Doone, R. D. Blackmore

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Published in 1869 and set in the seventeenth century, Lorna Doone is Blackmore’s most famous book, and the only of his once popular novels that is still readily available. It tells the story of John Ridd, an Exmoor yeoman, and his love for Lorna Doone. The name Doone is met with fear and disgust by the locals, having been terrorized by them for years, they even killed John’s father. Lorna, however, rejects their way of life and wishes for the freedom to be with John despite other plans being firmly in place to keep her within the Doone family.

John narrates the tale, although does at one point pass the narrative over to Lorna. He speaks directly to the reader at times, giving glimpses of what his future looks like as well as little asides on his views and opinions which are not always endearing to the modern reader. He is however largely portrayed as kindly if a little vain and you do find yourself hoping that things turn out well for him.

It may be Lorna’s name on the title page but she is not often part of the action, being in large part the greatest dream of John’s heart, who is utterly enchanted from their first meeting. Some readers accuse her of being weak and overly compliant yet there are glimmers of strength within. For example, she tells John that the Doones are ashamed of their villainy in front of her. She must therefore have expressed her distaste for their behaviour, to hold some kind of power over her manipulative and uncaring relatives is no small feat. She is also resilient, growing up in violent surroundings with very little love shown to her, and then trying to fit into the Ridd family when there is a certain level of distance due to her social standing.

The novel is rich in descriptive detail and the landscape is brought to life in much the same way you find in a Hardy novel. Indeed, one of the reasons the local community turn against the Doones, aside from their violence and thievery, is the way they misuse their land. In many ways this is a moral tale, but one in which people are easily forgiven if they exhibit signs of kindness. ‘Everybody cursed the Doones, who lived apart disdainfully. But all good people like Mr Faggus – when he had not robbed them – and many a poor sick man or woman blessed him for other people’s money…’ Mr Faggus is a highwayman, but his involvement in the community and the occasional kind action allow him to be embraced by the very people who may well be his next victim.

This is a long book that could likely have been cut down while still retaining its appeal. For the moments where it drags however there are many more where you become completely absorbed in the story and the writing, which at times feels almost poetic. The Doones are brilliantly drawn villains and never fail to live up to their reputation. There are moments when the tale seems to go off on a tangent and you’re left wondering quite how you got there. Nonetheless, this is a great read with a dramatic, violent climax.

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Tales of Angria, Charlotte Brontë

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It is well known that the Brontë siblings wrote stories in imagined worlds in their youth. The world of Gondal, Emily and Anne’s creation, is sadly largely lost to time, but more of Branwell and Charlotte’s writings on Angria have survived. In this book, Heather Glen brings together the last five of Charlotte’s Angrian tales, written in her early twenties. They were written with an intended audience of her siblings, the knowledge of the history of the characters assumed. Glen helps to bridge the gap with concise introductions to each piece, allowing the reader to jump right in and enjoy the early works of such a well-loved writer.

The tales are mostly narrated by Charles Townshend, a gossipy commentator on the aristocratic lives within. He plays roles of varying importance in the stories and speaks directly to the reader at times. The main male protagonists are ageing former heroes - the Duke of Zamorna, whose many infidelities feature, and the Earl of Northangerland, whose daughter falls under the spell of Zamorna in the final tale. These fading heroes were inspired by Napoleon and the Duke of Wellington, the heroics of which were fading into distant memory by the time Charlotte was penning these last Angrian tales.

The female characters at first seem alarmingly subservient – Mina Laury declares herself hopelessly devoted to Zamorna, whose inattention does not weaken her affection. She is, however, also intelligent and able to hold her own. ‘Strong-minded beyond her sex, active, energetic and accomplished in all other points of view, here she was as weak as a child. She lost her identity. Her very life was swallowed up in that of another.’ Zamorna has long lost interest in her but refuses to give her up, leading to a duel with Hartford who has fallen for her.

In the final piece, Caroline Vernon, we see again Zamorna’s lack of morals, leading to a desperate dispute between him and Northangerland in which we see a very different side to the latter. Glen in her introduction highlights the Byronic characteristics of both the men and women as well as Brontë’s tongue in cheek response to Gothic traditions.

A recurring theme is also that of colonisation. Most of the characters are not Angrian natives but have taken control of the land. There are many mentions throughout of discord between the different regions of Angria and the temperaments of the natives. On the surface these may seem like frivolous tales of the upper classes but there’s a lot more bubbling just beneath the surface.

Brontë was not writing mere childish scribbles but informed, intelligent responses to the political and literary world that she inhabited. From the first her character sketches are witty and cutting, concisely setting up characters in their first introduction. She alludes to contemporary trends and issues that her readers would have picked up on but also those closer to home – in Henry Hastings we see a sister’s response to a brother’s disgrace.

The Roe Head Journal fragments are the least easy to read because of the lack of narrative cohesion (that was never intended) but it’s fascinating to see her continual pre-occupation with Angria, the frustration of not having the time to write, and what it was like to have Branwell decide the fate of characters she had created.

A lot of reviews suggest these tales are difficult to get into and are only of interest to scholars. I found quite the opposite to be true. Of course you have to approach them as short stories or vignettes rather than a novel, but they are genuinely absorbing. The characters are not all likeable but they are not designed to be. Their misdemeanours are central to the plot and Brontë’s characteristically rich, clever prose is apparent in these early works. A thoroughly enjoyable, enlightening read.

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Agnes Grey, Anne Brontë

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Anne Brontë’s first novel, Agnes Grey, is in part autobiographical. Agnes is the daughter of a clergyman in the north of England and, in wishing to aid the family’s finances takes a job as a governess with two families not entirely dissimilar to those Anne found herself with. The Bloomfield children are vile, spoilt children whose behaviour Agnes is unable to improve. There is a horrifying scene with her young charge Tom whereby he is planning how to torture some young birds. Agnes drops a stone on them to save them the horrors he had planned. His guardians do not understand her reasoning, promising him more innocent victims, and claiming they are put on Earth for our amusement. This distressing scene seems to show their opinion of those they consider inferior and does not bode well for their relations with young Agnes. It also goes to show how impossible her task is when faced with a family that positively encourages such behaviour. The unreasonable demands put on a governess are clear and you feel the frustration of being held entirely accountable in a hopeless situation.

Her second post, with the Murrays, is a slight improvement. Matilda and Rosalie are older and less physically ill behaved but they nonetheless seem to find making life difficult for Agnes something of a sport. She is expected to be on call at all times and must submit to the whims of the young Murrays. They have a strong sense of entitlement and feel little empathy for those less fortunate than themselves. This is evidenced not only in their treatment of Agnes but also in the delight they take in visiting poorer neighbours and mocking them. Rosalie also shows a great disregard for others in her cruel treatment of potential suitors, giving them attention only as long as it amuses her, with no intention of marrying them.

It is clear that Anne wanted to express the hardships endured by a governess and the contempt bred by privilege. In Rosalie’s unhappy marriage we see the result of such spoiling in childhood. They may have more money but in the end are not genuinely happy. The moral message seems to be that those who work hard, are honest and respectful, are given their quiet  contentment eventually.

A short, uneventful read with what was at the time a revolutionary message. Originally published as part of a three volume set alongside Wuthering Heights, it is not hard to see why it was overshadowed.

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The Professor, Charlotte Brontë

Charlotte’s much-rejected first novel follows our protagonist and narrator William Crimsworth from a difficult life in northern England to Brussels where he gains a teaching post in a boys’ school. He is full of optimism and innocence as he embarks on his new life, deriding the natives at every turn. In addition to his work at Monsieur Pelet’s school he also teaches lessons at a nearby girls’ school run by Mademoiselle Reuter. He is attracted to the young directress and a flirtatious power struggle ensues. Her deceitful nature is revealed to him and his affection moves toward Frances Henri, an unassuming seamstress who takes English classes with him.

Of all of Brontë’s novels this seems to be the one critics find the hardest to separate from biography. Written on her return from Brussels in the throes of painful unrequited love she seems to choose a male narrator to give more freedom, and also perhaps to rewrite reality into a fantasy with an ending she so longed for.

The distaste for the Belgians is a reflection of sentiments expressed in a letter from Brontë to her friend Ellen Nussey on first arriving in Brussels. This may have been enhanced by their Catholicism, a not uncommon target for derision at the time but felt keenly by Brontë, presumably in part because of her Anglican upbringing. The fact Mademoiselle Reuter, dishonest and seductive, is Catholic and Frances Henri, loyal and diligent, is Protestant is likely no coincidence.

Frances is also intriguing for her sense of nationalism. Born to Anglo-Swiss parents she has a deep love for England, although she has never been. Comparatively, Hunsden, a friend of Crimsworth’s from England has no sense of national loyalty and sees himself as a ‘citizen of the world’. These themes feel very relevant in today’s Brexit obsessed atmosphere.

Regardless of its reputation as Brontë’s weakest novel, I thoroughly enjoyed The Professor. Crimsworth is not always a particularly likable character but that is no flaw in creation. His prejudicial feelings and odd behaviour towards those who impress him make him believable as a young man trying to find his way in the world. We see him mature and achieve what Brontë set out in her preface as an aim – to have the characters make their wealth from hard work, not by a lucky chance. As in other of her works, she sets out to write about ordinary people living unextraordinary lives, which is not to say boring. The ending was a little neat for my tastes, but I am now a great advocate of recovering this novel from its critics.

Les Misérables, Victor Hugo

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Victor Hugo’s epic Les Misérables is a broad examination of the lives of struggling citizens of France in the early nineteenth century, and a polemic against a society where people are so carelessly abandoned by the State. Jean Valjean, the unifying character, is a complex man whose good intentions were forced out of him during his harsh and intolerable captivity. His crime was little more than desperation to relieve the suffering of his loved ones, and his ever present determination to escape, however slim the chance of success and however high the penalty. Readers will easily be led into sympathy, and feel the hopelessness, the injustice of the legal system. He emerges with a broken soul, all ability to love seemingly crushed. His encounter with the Bishop of Digne stuns him, his kindness a sudden bright light that dazes Valjean after so many years of darkness. It is this which allows a return to empathy and encourages what becomes a life led selflessly.

Fantine, an innocent girl who places her heart with the wrong man, ends her life tragically when she finds herself pregnant and abandoned. On meeting Madame Thenardier she sees a solution to her troubles, thinking she has found a loving family to care for her beloved child, Cosette, while she works hard to support her. She suffers a double misfortune as the Thernardiers prove to be of deplorable character, only interested in what they can gain. Her workmates also prove to be unkind, causing her problems for the sake of it. She soon finds herself destitute, relying on her body to provide for the ever increasing demands of the Thernardiers. It is heartbreaking to see her resolve to suffer so much with the only comfort that her sacrifices are granting Cosette health and happiness when we see how despicably she is in truth being treated.

Valjean, now in a position of some power and wealth, comes to hear of Fantine’s story and takes on the responsibility of care for Cosette. He sees the Thernardier’s for what they are and takes Cosette away from them, making enemies in the process. Without ever explaining the reason to her, he and Cosette hide from the law, and most especially Inspector Javert, who seems incapable of understanding life beyond the confines of the law.

A whole host of characters are introduced in relation to the events surrounding Valjean and his adopted daughter. The benign Marius whose morals lead him into a life of struggle, reluctant to accept financial help, and bent on finding Monsieur Thernardier with the aim of repaying the kindness he believes was shown to his father when injured at the Battle of Waterloo. Valjean is suspicious of the young man, both for his constant fear of being followed and watched, but also for the risk of Cosette falling in love. His past life haunts him to the end.

The Thernardiers reappear many times throughout, sometimes under different guises, and we see how they treat their own beloved daughters when hard times hit. The contrast between Cosette’s life and that of the once more privileged family is stark, a fact that enrages Madame Thernardier. This contrast is made even more apparent when you realise the street urchin Gavroche is also a Thernardier, although he is left to fend for himself and seems to have avoided the undesirable family traits. He is a shining example of generosity and wisdom far beyond his years. There are few scenes more heart wrenching than his demise, and the following treatise on how easily lost children can be sucked into the city and made invisible, struggling to survive in a world that only punishes them for their attempts to be fed and sheltered.

It is impossible to do justice to the breadth of this novel in so short a space. The characters may be a little exaggerated, which can be frustrating at times, and there are many lengthy digressions (some of which have mercifully been moved to appendices in this edition) but it is a powerful story with characters you can’t help but feel for. The sheer length allows the characters to age and develop, experiencing the upheavals of attempts to revolutionise France. An historical novel when it was published, its message is no less relevant today.

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