In Which Trai Reviews 'Tess of the d'Urbervilles'

The Book: Tess of the d'Urbervilles

The Author: Thomas Hardy

How I Found It: Years ago, when I was but a junior in high school studying for the English Literature AP exam, I had this one down as a possible choice to read in preparation for the exam, in time for the miniseries to air on Masterpiece Theatre. I never did get there and instead read it this year. This was my first book read via Dailylit.

The Review: "O mother, my mother!" cried the agonized girl, turning passionately upon her parent as if her poor heart would break. "How could I be expected to know? I was a child when I left this house four months ago. Why didn't you tell me there was danger in men-folk? Why didn't you warn me?"

There are some books you read only to wish you'd read them earlier. Me, I'm quite glad I read this one exactly when I did, at nearly 21, instead of at 17, as was the initial plan. I think I would have sworn off men for life.

One night in Marlott, an English village, the local parson tells Jack Durbeyfield something interesting--he is not just "plain Jack Durbeyfield, the haggler" as he believes, but the descendant of one of the greatest old families, the d'Urbervilles. Jack gets it in his head that this means something grand, and he and his wife hatch a plot to "claim kin" with a wealthy d'Urberville living not far from Marlott. Tess, the beautiful eldest Durbeyfield child, has far more sense than her parents and would prefer they not get wrapped up in such nonsense. Circumstances soon necessitate it when a horrific accident--partly Tess' fault--fells Prince, the family horse, leaving the Durbeyfields on the edge of poverty, and Tess finally agrees to go and claim kin.

This acquaints Tess with the charming, but conniving Alec d'Urberville, her alleged cousin, who is really anything but. Alec is perhaps a bit too interested in Tess, and takes advantage when he sees the chance. This event and its tragic outcome will define Tess for the rest of her life, haunting her subsequent associations with nearly everyone she meets--including, a few years later, Angel Clare, a kindly farmer and scholar who becomes smitten with Tess. Will Tess finally find happiness with Alec, or will she end up paying for a sin that was never her own?

Entirely unintentionally, this year has become the "Trai acquaints herself with the great female protagonists of literature" year. First Moll, now Tess. I wonder that some of the frankest portrayals of female sexuality I've ever read were written by men! It's funny, too, that Moll and Tess were two completely opposite sides of the coin--Moll truly owns her sexuality and is unashamed of her crimes, whereas Tess is ashamed of a "sin not of [her] own seeking" and tries to swear off all contact with men because of it. Reading both novels within a month or two of each other was certainly interesting.

This is one hell of a depressing story--tears were shed at the last few chapters--but an important one. I think Hardy pushed a lot of boundaries by writing such a sexually-charged story, and by pointing out the flaws inherent in the "system" of religion, morality, what have you. That doesn't mean it wasn't still frustrating to read at times, from a modern perspective--when Alec kept going on about Tess tempting him just by looking the way she did, I wanted to shake him and yell at him that it's his fault for being tempted, not hers for having the body she does--but it did mean I could engage with the text more fully and find its views fascinating. These flaws and contradictions are still happening today--in the same vein of the Alec example I mentioned above are the recent hypocritical tweets by a hockey player that many took issue with. The player first asked women to cover up so that they wouldn't tempt their male brethren... and then went on to tell men that they've got nobody but themselves to blame if they are tempted. Huh?

I felt the three main characters--Tess, Alec, and Angel--and their relationships were well-drawn and convincing. I felt for Tess and hoped she would be able to find some happiness, or at least some gainful employment, during her difficulties. Alec made my skin crawl, but I could see why Tess would, at first, find him charming--the strawberry scene is going to stay with me for quite a while; I adore the Vintage cover (above) for evoking that so simply. Angel made me love him and then made me hate him, but I rooted for him nonetheless because of how tenderly he treated Tess as he fell in love with her--a marked contrast from Alec. (I think this book might have earned the distinction of one of my favorite kisses in literature--as Tess and Angel work together to break up curds for cheese-making, Angel leans down and kisses the underside of Tess' arm, despite its being covered in curds. That's love, folks.)

It was one of those books that had me appreciating the side characters as much as the leads--there's the early image of Jack Durbeyfield drunkenly riding along and chanting about his family vault at Kingsbere, Joan Durbeyfield worriedly realizing she should have ascertained if Alec was a good man before sending Tess to him, Marian eventually turning to drinking but still managing to stay quite pleasant and supportive of Tess. (Continuing my happiness at positive depictions of women in love triangles, this book had a lovely one--all the dairymaids are in love with Angel and resent Tess for a short time, but quickly become her steadfast friends once they realize Tess does not wish to be their rival.) The plot the characters were involved in was slow at times, undoubtedly, but slow enough that it made me think and have the time to really consider where things were going and how I felt about that.

I decided to watch the 2008 BBC miniseries adaptation on the strength of good reviews and its being the most recent adaptation, and because David Nicholls (One Day) was the screenwriter. I expected to like it, as I do most BBC adaptations--what I didn't expect was to love it, and for it to become my all-time favorite BBC adaptation. It was beautifully shot and incredibly well-acted.

Certain things really chilled me--the final shot of Tess that ends Part One, where the viewer is finally given the truth of what Alec's violation has left her with; Tess huddled in the rain, desperate and kissing her wedding ring; the choice to have Tess and Alec framed by the bars of a tomb during one confrontation, symbolizing how Tess is trapped with no other option but to obey him. The soundtrack was sorrowful and insistent, almost like a warning, and the echoing strains of "The snow, it melts the soonest..." were haunting.

Gemma Arterton really impressed me--I'd only ever seen her as a Bond girl and a goddess in Clash of the Titans, so I wasn't expecting her to pull it off, but she had me at the indignation Tess displays in her opening scene: who among us hasn't scoffed and rolled our eyes at embarrassing relatives? She perfectly played Tess' indifference and numbness in her goodbye to Alec in Part One, and her anger and sorrow at Angel in Part Three. Hans Matheson captured Alec exactly, the charm and the slime. Eddie Redmayne, Angel, was a bit flat at times, but I really felt the connection between him and Gemma's Tess, and the kiss I mentioned before was just as I imagined it. (A special shoutout to the woman who played Marian; she was all I'd imagined and more.) All the emotional scenes were well-played--I cried at the speech I opened this post with, and at the end--and Nicholls' screenplay was outstanding.

This story has left quite an impact on me, and I look forward to exploring it further both in my research for a paper and as I view two other adaptations: Roman Polanski's Tess, and an earlier miniseries version starring Justine Waddell of Wives & Daughters fame. Most definitely recommended to anyone who'd like to read a classic or to anyone interested in portrayals of female sexuality in literature.

(I mentioned above that I read this via Dailylit; I highly recommend it! The site delivers small installments [the length of your average email] of public domain books into your inbox on a schedule of your choosing, and it worked quite splendidly for me.)

In Which Trai Reviews 'Moll Flanders'

The Book: Moll Flanders

The Author: Daniel Defoe

How I Found It: I was very much interested in the BBC miniseries starring Alex Kingston and Daniel Craig, and felt the need to read a banned book for Banned Books Week! My thanks to Project Gutenberg.

The Review: I can give you a plot summary, but to be quite honest, I think Daniel Defoe took care of that with his original title. There is no other way to describe this title without defaulting to the phrase "long-ass." I shall reproduce it here:

The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders, etc. Who was Born in Newgate, and during a Life of continu'd Variety for Threescore Years, besides her Childhood, was Twelve Year a Whore, five times a Wife (whereof once to her own Brother), Twelve Year a Thief, Eight Year a Transported Felon in Virginia, at last grew Rich, liv'd Honest, and died a Penitent. Written from her own Memorandums.

See what I mean? Defoe must be the king of the Spoiler Title.

To flesh out the summary a bit: Moll is born in Newgate Prison, after her mother, a prostitute slated for execution, "pleads her belly," appealing to the practice of staying the executions of pregnant criminals. She is granted a reprieve and later is transported to the United States to work on the plantations in Virginia, and Moll is taken from her and left to shift for herself. When Moll escapes the gypsies who take her in, she is given to a woman who raises children orphaned by the law.

Moll's great ambition in life is to be a "gentlewoman" and to earn her own money to live on, like one of the ladies in the town. If only Moll knew what that little euphemism meant, but she doesn't. Soon enough, Moll's dignified nature catches the eye of an upstanding family in the town, and she is taken in and raised as one of their maids, while really treated as one of the family. She grows up to be beautiful, and even becomes more accomplished than the family's daughters. However, it is here that Moll gets into her first romantic entanglement: she becomes the mistress of the elder brother, but the younger brother is in love with her.

When Moll's first husband (one of the brothers--I'm not going to say which!) dies, Moll is free to marry again. And so she does--many times. There's the draper, a rich man who'd like to spend his inheritance on a wife. There's her own brother, entirely on accident and much to Moll's grief. There's Jemy, a dishonest rogue who nonetheless becomes the love of Moll's life, no matter how financial circumstances conspire to separate them. There's the banker, trustworthy and loving. There's any number of lovers. And when Moll runs the gamut of her husbands, she finds herself with no other options before her but to be a thief or to starve. Well, then, what's a girl to do?

So really, the book is exactly what it says on the tin--the romances and adventures of the indomitable Moll. I've heard her described variously as the first great female character in literature (a statement I am fully prepared to agree with) and the Wife of Bath's spiritual successor (which, having read her tale in English Lit this semester, I can also agree with). Moll is many things, but above them all, she is perhaps as liberated a woman as it is possible to be. She knows what she wants and she will take it, even if she has to steal it. And I love her.

I had heard this book was a slog, so I approached it with trepidation. One Friday afternoon I picked up TARDIS and selected Moll Flanders, figuring I'd have a go at the first few pages and see what happened. Though people have said this work makes Defoe the father of the modern novel, the man hadn't quite worked out that chapter breaks are beneficial. I figured I'd get bogged down in this mass of a tale--literally a life story, uninterrupted. I think that what helped me along at first was the standardized, modernized spelling and punctuation. I thank Project Gutenberg for that. I know there are critics who hate this movement--that they feel it dumbs down the text, or that it takes away from the original spirit of the work--but to be so very honest, I much prefer it this way, because otherwise my inner grammarian cries and proceeds to hide in her corner and refuse to help me parse things. (As much as I love Jane Austen, reading the Penguin edition of Mansfield Park a few years back made me wince at the state of pre-standardization spelling and grammar.) For anyone who might approach this book with trepidation, I recommend the Gutenberg e-text, or a print edition which standardizes the text (the pictured Collins Classics edition does, for example).

The modernized spelling and grammar helped me to understand the book better than I had anticipated, but what really drove me along was Moll herself. I'm still in awe that a man wrote this book. Sure, certain parts of it can be seen as less than empowering today, but Moll is every bit her own woman and I was cheering for her from the beginning. Defoe's observations about society were dead on. The passage that made me love the book comes early on, when Moll is a servant in the household of that noble family, under the name of "Miss Betty" (we never do know her true name, and she doesn't take on the name Moll until fairly late in her life). Both brothers are in love with Moll, and the younger insists he would have Moll even if she didn't have a fortune. His sister fires back with this observation:

'I wonder at you, brother,’ says the sister. ‘Betty wants but one thing, but she has as good want everything, for the market is against our sex just now; and if a young woman have beauty, birth, breeding, wit, sense, manners, modesty, and all these to an extreme, yet if she have not money, she’s nobody, she had as good want them all for nothing but money now recommends a woman; the men play the game all into their own hands.’

It was that "yet if she have not money, she's nobody" that sold me. Defoe clearly knew exactly what a woman's position in society was at that point, and seems to have written this novel to show just how few options were available to women. What else can a woman do but marry? And if she cannot marry--if she is too old or has too little money--isn't she as good as a beggar?

Moll's refusal to accept society's norms made me love her. She marries plenty of times, sure, but she never loses her independence. She might prostitute herself to live, but she clearly enjoys sex and feels shame only when she repents in the face of her impending execution. As I said before, the empowerment is a bit warped these days, but Moll's impassioned speech to her first lover had me cheering despite that: 'If, then, I have yielded to the importunities of my affection, and if I have been persuaded to believe that I am really, and in the essence of the thing, your wife, shall I now give the lie to all those arguments and call myself your whore, or mistress, which is the same thing? And will you transfer me to your brother? Can you transfer my affection? Can you bid me cease loving you, and bid me love him? It is in my power, think you, to make such a change at demand? No, sir,’ said I, ‘depend upon it ‘tis impossible, and whatever the change of your side may be, I will ever be true; and I had much rather, since it is come that unhappy length, be your whore than your brother’s wife.’

See that? Moll takes a stand. She doesn't let a man rule her desires or her prospects. She even advocates that women not settle, saying that it is the propensity women of the day had of marrying too soon that traps so many of them in unhappy marriages, that if only women waited just a bit more to find a man with good character, or until the fear of not being immediately married has passed, they would fare somewhat better. I was stunned at Defoe's insight into the plight of women in the era, and now I'm mightily curious to check out Roxana, his other work, as well as John Cleland's Fanny Hill, which came twenty years after Moll and was a bit more scandalous. (Cleland wrote his tale from prison and thus had nothing to fear. Defoe presented the tale initially as Moll's autobiography, rather than fiction, so he could keep out of jail!)

The thing I loved most about Defoe's method of telling the story, keeping us in Moll's head all the while, was that I could see exactly why she fell for each husband or lover. I was particularly sold by the initial scenes depicting her courtship with the man she doesn't know is her brother. As she tries to snare him into admitting that he'd marry her even if she were penniless, they write back and forth on a piece of glass with his diamond ring, as he tries to win her over with flowery statements and Moll refutes every one. I was entirely sold on their relationship, and thus understood entirely Moll's revulsion when he turned out to be her brother. Similarly, it was clear why Moll fell so hard for Jemy, and even after their initial assignation was cut short, I was rooting for them. Sure, it's difficult to sympathize with her at times--she has twelve children and entrusts them all to the care of others, with varying degrees of involvement in the care and keeping of each--but it's always easy to see that Moll does what she does because she has to.

I did feel one part of the novel dragged on perhaps too long--I started to become slightly bored with Moll's life as a thief. So many scrapes and methods of stealing are recounted that it becomes difficult to keep track of them all, and Moll has quite a few near-misses with the law, nearly all of which are accounted for. Though it was fascinating to realize how expensive things were back then (fabric cost more than some women had to live on for a year!) and how harsh the law was (the simplest of crimes merited "the steps and the string," as Moll so eloquently puts it), I eventually wanted to tell Moll to get on with it, already, and tell me how she got thrown in Newgate! That section was the only one that bored me, though, and it was towards the end of the novel, so it wasn't hard to get past.

I wasn't expecting it at all, but Moll's story kept me captivated and had me turning pages at every opportunity (TARDIS got the most mileage of her lifetime so far; she was in my bag and ready to be whipped out at any opportunity). She has become probably my favorite female character in all of literature, and I'm even looking to getting a physical copy of the book for rereading purposes. I was delighted to read one of the most notorious books in all of literature, and though this isn't one for the kiddies (probably not for anyone below fifteen!), I'd really recommend it to anyone who feels up to the task. I especially recommend the novel to anyone who has an interest in great portrayals of women in literature. Meet Moll. I think you'll like her.

Coming soon: my reviews of three film adaptations of Moll's story--the aforementioned Alex Kingston miniseries, an extremely loose American adaptation starring Morgan Freeman and Robin Wright Penn, and the 1965 adaptation starring Kim Novak.