Monday, April 28, 2014

Book Review: The Monk (1796), by Matthew Lewis, Part 2

I thought I was finished with this review, but I wanted to revisit it for the sake of another point of contention.  As you may know from my other reviews of classic works, I take particular objection to the portrayal of and condemnation of so called "fallen women" - meaning the views of society as portrayed in literature.  If a woman has premarital sex with someone other than her future husband, she usually comes to a bad end.  We see this in several examples including Bleak House and Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens, and Far from the Madding Crowd by Thomas Hardy.

I am going to give spoilers to The Monk.  If you don't want to know how it ends, don't continue reading.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Book Review: The Monk (1796), by Matthew Lewis, Part 1

This novel has all the elements wanted for a Gothic Romance, including old castles, ghosts, catacombs under old abbeys, and the like.  But this book has a much more important feel to it than the other two Gothic Romances I recently read (The Mysteries of Udolpho and The Castle of Otranto).  That's because it tackles such weighty subjects as the heavy hand of religion and premarital sex.  A century later, Tess of the d'Urbervilles would show the effects of both religion and society on that subject.  But to see it discussed frankly in an 18th century novel surprised me.  In fact, the narrative outlook on it seemed quite modern, at least for certain characters.

There are multiple intertwined storylines, each involving a young woman and the men who love her (or lust after her).  The title refers to the great foe of the story.  But to say he's only a foe demeans the wonderful character study by Matthew Lewis.  Here is a man who believes himself safe from the sins of the world, but is then exposed to sins and soon develops other ideas.  All the other characters are classic stereotypes that could be pulled from any major novel of the day, and they represent the contemporary thoughts and actions of heroes and servants.  That's not to say they're poorly drawn.  On the contrary, each character is a unique piece of work, though some are still a bit cliched.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

Book Review: The Castle of Otranto (1764), by Horace Walpole

This was a great, quick read for a Gothic Romance.  It did not bog itself down in flowery language or try to become epic in nature.  The entire story takes place in just a few days.  It tells of a tyrant - a usurper - whose claim to his title is being challenged.  There are old, dark prophecies that frighten him, that foretell terrible things if his line is broken.

Manfred is the tyrant.  He has a wife, Hippolita, who he doesn't love, a daughter, Matilda, who he doesn't care about, and a son, Conrad, who we never meet.  The son dies at the very beginning of the story in a weird way that is never fully explained.  Let me point out that the supernatural plays a big part in this story.  Unlike other gothic romances, the author doesn't try to explain away the supernatural as being misunderstood normal events.  But neither does he do a great job of presenting the supernatural in a believable way.  The son is killed by a ginormous helmet falling on him and crushing him to death.  There are visions of a giant here and there, and not until the end to we get a glimpse of who the giant is.

Book Review: The Mysteries of Udolpho, by Ann Radcliffe (1794) Review Part 2

Second part of my review of Ann Radcliffe's most well-known novel.  Yes, I do recommend it, by the way.

This book can be confusing at times, but I'm having a great time reading it.  To help you through it, you could listen to the audiobook while you read.  That certainly helps carry you over the flowery descriptions of scenery.

However, to me, the main character - Emily - seems a bit naive on this whole affair.  I wish she would have thought to escape from the castle Udolpho.  But that's not something women do in these novels, they are rescued.  If an escape is planned, they are not the planners but the weak, simpering participants.  They put all their faith and hope in some man.  In this case it was the servant Ludovico, the servant Annette's romantic attachment, along with another prisoner who happens to be in love with Emily and lived near her (wonderful melodramatic coincidence).  Of the four of them, it won't be Annette or Emily that plan or execute the escape.  Another weak point is that this new character, Du Pont, is introduced late in the novel.  It's the sort of thing you see in serialized novels that are written as the story progresses in a monthly publication.

Deadlines

There is an inverse relationship between an approaching deadline and the ability to write above the level of a 5th grader.

It's simple, really.  Those pesky deadlines are always far off in the distance, nothing but a glimmer on the horizon.  The editor and her needs do not exist.  Every day, every scene I experience sparks a new and original idea for articles or stories that the masses will love.  I am Tolstoy.  I am Fitzgerald.  Ideas flow from me like cool water springing forth from the fertile ground of my mind.

Then, five days before it's due, I get that friendly email reminder from the editor, and ideas evaporate like dew on a summer morning.  I can't articulate a sentence and the fertile ground of my mind is a barren wasteland.  Nothing I think of is interesting, no idea I come up with sounds remotely readable.  My ideas are passé, cliched, and overdone.  My style is weak.   I scramble, I look through old, unused articles.  Maybe I can revamp something, maybe I wrote something months ago that I forgot about.  But the well is dry.

The deadline is now.  The editor sends one more email.  I've got nothing.  Pressure, frantic pressure builds.  I write.  It's horrible.  I rewrite, it's still horrible.  I scrap the whole thing.  I email her asking for one more day.  She grants it and then I waste my time watching reruns of Gilligan's Island.  Mary Ann is hot.

I finally come up with a masterpiece!  No, that's a lie, and not even a convincing lie.  But I send it to her, anyway.  My email is apologetic.  "Sorry this sucks so bad.  Wait, I meant badly!  Or did I?  Oh hell, whatever."