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3.28 AVERAGE
3.28 AVERAGE
adventurous
challenging
dark
mysterious
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
Content Warnings
Moderate: Adult/minor relationship, Child abuse, Confinement, Death, Domestic abuse, Emotional abuse, Misogyny, Blood, Grief, Death of parent, Murder, Abandonment, Alcohol
I've been dragging to finish this book for so long that I'm finally giving up. There are so many good books that I'm looking forward to, why force myself on one I don't like ?
The heroin was constantly crying (I know, she lost her father, but I have the feeling she'd be crying anyway), being persecuted by her horrible aunt, his horrible husband and society in general.
I almost enjoyed the very beginning, with the description of their peaceful country life and those gorgeous landscapes, but it became boring very quickly. And Emily was so righteous ! And when she lost her father, everybody insisted on her not crying (including her dying father) and it made me angry. You lose your only remaining parent, you have the right to cry !
There is absolutely not the remotest sense of humour in this book. I didn't read it to have a good laugh, but still, I was reading Thomas Hardy in parallel and he managed to make me smile ! It was all so tragic in this story, but too long, far too long, far too righteous, far too... boring. I'm moving on.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention : the comas. Many, many, many, many comas, more than you've ever seen in your entire life ! While I was reading, I had the feeling I was listening to Malcolm's asthmatic friend trying to build a sentence !
The heroin was constantly crying (I know, she lost her father, but I have the feeling she'd be crying anyway), being persecuted by her horrible aunt, his horrible husband and society in general.
I almost enjoyed the very beginning, with the description of their peaceful country life and those gorgeous landscapes, but it became boring very quickly. And Emily was so righteous ! And when she lost her father, everybody insisted on her not crying (including her dying father) and it made me angry. You lose your only remaining parent, you have the right to cry !
There is absolutely not the remotest sense of humour in this book. I didn't read it to have a good laugh, but still, I was reading Thomas Hardy in parallel and he managed to make me smile ! It was all so tragic in this story, but too long, far too long, far too righteous, far too... boring. I'm moving on.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention : the comas. Many, many, many, many comas, more than you've ever seen in your entire life ! While I was reading, I had the feeling I was listening to Malcolm's asthmatic friend trying to build a sentence !
challenging
emotional
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
dark
emotional
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
No
Why is there a stanza every ten pages. Where is my gothic horror. There's supposed to be creatures in this but instead I am haunted by excessive descriptions of mountain peaks and green pastures. Boring!
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
inspiring
mysterious
sad
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
Mysteries of Udolpho is one of those books where I was hyped to find it a local used bookstore, only to get home and wonder if I'd ever read it. The cause of the first feeling was a classic gothic fiction reading binge I was on. The cause of the second feeling was knowing Udolpho is among the gothic sub-genre where all mysterious and seemingly supernatural occurrences are ultimately explained by nefarious human agency. I hadn't loved the other book I'd read in this sub-genre, Uncle Silas by Sheridan Le Fanu. But when the mood struck one day, I dived in to Udolpho and never looked back. It is better than Uncle Silas in almost every way (the exception being that no character in Udolpho can rival Uncle Silas's Madame de la Rougiere for creepiness or Milly for humor).
Mysteries of Udolpho is extremely effective as a work of gothic fiction, and even with the remove of 200+ years it's easy to see why it was a best-seller of its time. The setup in volume I is almost unrivaled in its tone setting and plot escalation. In short succession, the young, virginal heroine Emily St Aubert loses her mom and goes on a trip with her dad where (1) they meet Emily's love interest Valencourt, (2) they barely find lodging each night before it gets super dark and creepy, and (3) her dad dies and is buried at a convent. Mystery around Emily's origins are also established through her dad's ambiguous prior connections to the convent and secret papers in his study that he instructs Emily to burn. Before any of this can be cleared up, Emily goes to live with her aunt who's new, malicious husband Montoni whisks them off to the Castle Udolpho.
Volumes II and III are the meat of the book, focused on Emily's time at Udolpho. They have everything you could possibly want from a gothic novel: a cavernous, dark castle in a state of disrepair; secret passages and stairways with locks on the wrong side; curtain-covered paintings; duels and poisoning; phantom music and phantom people; bandetti and an actual siege on the castle; and so much badass wainscoting. It's absolutely delightful and there's never a break from the action. Many mysteries of Udolpho are established and most (but not all) are resolved by the book's end.
Speaking of, Radcliffe boldly prolongs the book with a Volume IV and by modern standards it doesn't quite work. It introduces new characters and has unnecessary but still super gothic side plots. My reading pace from the first 75% of the book slowed during this last 25%. That said, I found Radcliffe's resolution of the many mysteries of Udolpho in the final 30ish pages to be highly effective. All told, I'd recommend this book to any fan of gothic fiction and have thumbeared many sections I wish to return to. Reading this book has motivated me to continue my gothic journey with Radcliffe's The Italian and Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey.
Three parting observations on this book, for anyone still reading my review:
1. Many gothic writers of this period seemed to feel a need to periodically break up the mounting tension and dread. In Mysteries of Udolpho, Radcliffe does this by inserting countless self-written poems. While the poems varied in quality, I found this to be a much more interesting way of breaking the tension than the prolonged Jane Austen-like scenes Le Fanu uses in Uncle Silas in an attempt to accomplish the same thing.
2. I love, love, love that authors of centuries past don't clean up narrative gaps or mistakes the way modern editing does. Don Quixote is a great example of this, with Cervantes retconning narrative gaps in volume I in the later-written volume II. In Mysteries of Udolpho, one clear narrative gap is Emily's dog Manchon. Manchon only appears when he's convenient to the plot, which amounts to every 100 pages or so. The reader forgets he's there and there's no mention of him after volume III. I am left to conclude that he dies at sea, in Emily's escape attempt from the castle. RIP Manchon, you were well-loved by me.
3. It's extremely interesting how Radcliffe views lower-class peasants and servants. There are a number of ways this view comes through in the novel, but one of the chief ones is through Emily's interactions with her maids, Annette [named after the author?] and Theresa. While Annette believes in ghosts and all kinds of supernatural occurrences, Emily is constantly suppressing her own fears and almost judging Annette for leaping to such irrational conclusions. Emily is quickly and constantly annoyed with Annette. There seems to be a thread throughout the book that only less-educated people such as Annette can actually believe in ghosts. Further, Annette falls in love with another servant Ludovico who regularly locks her in her room. It's kind of like Annette develops Stockholm syndrome. But if these are clear examples of classism, Emily's interactions with Theresa are the opposite. Emily is in love with Valencourt but believes she can't marry him because of societal conventions. On a couple of occasions, Theresa points out the silliness of all this and indicates that if Emily was of a different (lower) social class she wouldn't let such conventions interfere with true love. I would love to re-read this book with a focus on Radcliffe's view on class divides.
Mysteries of Udolpho is extremely effective as a work of gothic fiction, and even with the remove of 200+ years it's easy to see why it was a best-seller of its time. The setup in volume I is almost unrivaled in its tone setting and plot escalation. In short succession, the young, virginal heroine Emily St Aubert loses her mom and goes on a trip with her dad where (1) they meet Emily's love interest Valencourt, (2) they barely find lodging each night before it gets super dark and creepy, and (3) her dad dies and is buried at a convent. Mystery around Emily's origins are also established through her dad's ambiguous prior connections to the convent and secret papers in his study that he instructs Emily to burn. Before any of this can be cleared up, Emily goes to live with her aunt who's new, malicious husband Montoni whisks them off to the Castle Udolpho.
Volumes II and III are the meat of the book, focused on Emily's time at Udolpho. They have everything you could possibly want from a gothic novel: a cavernous, dark castle in a state of disrepair; secret passages and stairways with locks on the wrong side; curtain-covered paintings; duels and poisoning; phantom music and phantom people; bandetti and an actual siege on the castle; and so much badass wainscoting. It's absolutely delightful and there's never a break from the action. Many mysteries of Udolpho are established and most (but not all) are resolved by the book's end.
Speaking of, Radcliffe boldly prolongs the book with a Volume IV and by modern standards it doesn't quite work. It introduces new characters and has unnecessary but still super gothic side plots. My reading pace from the first 75% of the book slowed during this last 25%. That said, I found Radcliffe's resolution of the many mysteries of Udolpho in the final 30ish pages to be highly effective. All told, I'd recommend this book to any fan of gothic fiction and have thumbeared many sections I wish to return to. Reading this book has motivated me to continue my gothic journey with Radcliffe's The Italian and Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey.
Three parting observations on this book, for anyone still reading my review:
1. Many gothic writers of this period seemed to feel a need to periodically break up the mounting tension and dread. In Mysteries of Udolpho, Radcliffe does this by inserting countless self-written poems. While the poems varied in quality, I found this to be a much more interesting way of breaking the tension than the prolonged Jane Austen-like scenes Le Fanu uses in Uncle Silas in an attempt to accomplish the same thing.
2. I love, love, love that authors of centuries past don't clean up narrative gaps or mistakes the way modern editing does. Don Quixote is a great example of this, with Cervantes retconning narrative gaps in volume I in the later-written volume II. In Mysteries of Udolpho, one clear narrative gap is Emily's dog Manchon. Manchon only appears when he's convenient to the plot, which amounts to every 100 pages or so. The reader forgets he's there and there's no mention of him after volume III. I am left to conclude that he dies at sea, in Emily's escape attempt from the castle. RIP Manchon, you were well-loved by me.
3. It's extremely interesting how Radcliffe views lower-class peasants and servants. There are a number of ways this view comes through in the novel, but one of the chief ones is through Emily's interactions with her maids, Annette [named after the author?] and Theresa. While Annette believes in ghosts and all kinds of supernatural occurrences, Emily is constantly suppressing her own fears and almost judging Annette for leaping to such irrational conclusions. Emily is quickly and constantly annoyed with Annette. There seems to be a thread throughout the book that only less-educated people such as Annette can actually believe in ghosts. Further, Annette falls in love with another servant Ludovico who regularly locks her in her room. It's kind of like Annette develops Stockholm syndrome. But if these are clear examples of classism, Emily's interactions with Theresa are the opposite. Emily is in love with Valencourt but believes she can't marry him because of societal conventions. On a couple of occasions, Theresa points out the silliness of all this and indicates that if Emily was of a different (lower) social class she wouldn't let such conventions interfere with true love. I would love to re-read this book with a focus on Radcliffe's view on class divides.
ATENCIÓN, PUEDE CONTENER SPOILERS.
A nivel resumido (porque la reseña se prevé larga), la novela me ha parecido horrible. El problema no es que sea un clásico (me gustan los clásicos) o su género (el género gótico es uno de los que más me gustan); se trata de que no hay por dónde coger esta obra.
La novela resulta repetitiva, aburrida, con grandes altibajos. No tiene fundamentos en los que apoyar una buena historia: ni su trama es fuerte ni los personajes, completamente planos, son capaces de sostenerla. El argumento es pobre y la tensión, horror e incertidumbre que la autora pretende crear, inexistentes; de hecho, la sinopsis es bastante mejor que el desarrollo de la misma en la novela. El volumen de páginas que ocupa es excesivo, pudiéndose desarrollar en poco más de doscientas páginas.
Yendo un poco más al detalle y analizando un poco mejor la obra a nivel algo más formal, hay también muchos puntos que justifican la puntuación que le he dado.
Los diálogos no tienen sentido; en más de una ocasión la escritora crea malos entendidos que, en realidad, no existen, justificándolos por el estado anímico de los personajes que intervienen. Si bien los malos entendidos pueden ser un buen recurso narrativo, no debemos olvidar que en literatura todo debe seguir una línea lógica y, si los diálogos son coherentes, que aparezca un malentendido cuando el mensaje está siendo directo y coherente, es un error que deslegitima dicho malentendido. Además, resultan demasiado impostados incluso para una novela de este género. Sin solución de continuidad ni anterior ni posterior, de pronto algunos diálogos se cortan por algo que, por lo que deducimos después, son ruidos o susurros, etc. que no se explican después. La falta de acotaciones narrativas en este tipo de casos resulta en una narración confusa, pesada y difícil de seguir.
La escritora abusa del decir y no utiliza casi nunca el mostrar. Sólo nos muestra el paisaje, momento donde se recrea en las descripciones (quizá el único punto fuerte de la novela), pero pocas veces nos muestra una escena, prefiere decirnos lo que ocurre, cómo se sienten los personajes y ya está. Si el personaje está triste, simplemente dice “Emily estaba triste”, en vez de describir su rostro, su expresión...
La autora usa el "Deus ex machina" para salvar a Emily de cualquier cosa, hasta tal punto que al final, independientemente de la situación en la que se halle, sabemos que nada va a pasarle. Además abusa de las falsas expectativas, por lo que al final, tras varios desengaños, cualquier expectativa que intente crear luego resulta insustancial. A eso hay que añadir que, para acentuar el dramatismo, Emily está siempre al borde del amago de infarto: cualquier ruido la lleva al desmayo. De esta guisa, oye un ruido inquietante en el bosque que casi hace que se desmaye (en una novela normal, si esto ocurre, sería importante o una trampa para la próxima vez, donde el personaje tendría la guardia baja) para resultar ser un zorro. Pasan por un campamento gitano super peligroso, Emily está al borde del desmayo por el estrés... Estaban cenando y ni se fijan en ellos. Y suma y sigue (no me extiendo en más ejemplos, porque el espacio es limitado). Y, el último y más notorio de Deus ex Machina, resulta en la muerte oportunísima de Montoni para librarse del problema, pues la autora estaba por contar otra cosa (más absurda aún) y ya no lo interesaba la trama de Italia (prefiere dedicarse al volumen IV, sin ningún tipo de interés).
La autora, incapaz de mostrar la virtud de Emily, se empecina en repetir una y otra vez lo virtuosa, honesta y buena que es. Si el autor tiene que repetir tantas veces que un personaje es así porque resulta incapaz de mostrar con las acciones del mismo esas cualidades... Apaga y vámonos. Aborrece las supersticiones, pero es la más supersticiosa. Aborrece los rumores, pero pide a las criadas que le cuenten todos los cotilleos... Ella, en sí, ya es un personaje inconsistente. De hecho, de tan virtuosa resulta pedante, pava, infantil, absurda y tonta. Tras tantas tribulaciones encuentra a Valancourt y cree antes en los rumores de gente con las que prácticamente no ha hablado nunca antes de creer o dar una oportunidad a explicarse a su amor, decidiendo terminar la relación sin más, porque perdió la virtud.
Otro de los misterios inexplicables en esta novela es la cantidad de gente que se enamora perdidamente de una chica como Emily, sosa, altiva e incoherente sin mediar palabra con ella. Conforme camina, le salen veinticuatro pretendientes dispuestos a hacer cualquier cosa por ella. No olvidemos, tampoco, que los dramas que vive Emily los vive casi voluntariamente: se trata de una chica que ve la vida pasar a su alrededor sin intervenir, dejándose llevar. Si bien al principio de la novela es justificado por su pasado, a medida que avanza la trama es de esperar que el personaje evolucione acorde a lo que está viviendo e intente sobrevivir y escapar a su tormento, pero esto no ocurre. Cuando uno de sus locos enamorados (por poner un ejemplo) le propone que huya con él de Udolfo y se libre de Montoni, decide que no puede hacer eso y pide al hombre que si aprecia su honor y le estima, se vaya. En un diálogo interminable de ruegos y negativas, acaba habiendo un duelo y el pretendiente acaba malherido. Habiendo tenido posibilidad de huir y habiendo renunciado a ella voluntariamente, luego lamenta su suerte y su destino al estar en Udolfo (estoooo... ¿algún problema de disociación con la realidad?).
Varias cosas quedan muy claras en la novela: que Emily sólo sabe llorar, desmayarse y quedarse pálida y que todo es muy melancólico. En la vida he leído una novela donde la palabra "melancólico" y toda su familia se repita tantísimas veces por página. ¡Llega hasta a mirar una pared melancólicamente! Demasiado.
Definitivamente, debo agradecer que otros autores supieran superar el escollo que representa esta novela y siguieran desarrollando el género de literatura gótica, que dio obras infinitamente más interesantes que ésta.
¿Recomendable? En absoluto.
A nivel resumido (porque la reseña se prevé larga), la novela me ha parecido horrible. El problema no es que sea un clásico (me gustan los clásicos) o su género (el género gótico es uno de los que más me gustan); se trata de que no hay por dónde coger esta obra.
La novela resulta repetitiva, aburrida, con grandes altibajos. No tiene fundamentos en los que apoyar una buena historia: ni su trama es fuerte ni los personajes, completamente planos, son capaces de sostenerla. El argumento es pobre y la tensión, horror e incertidumbre que la autora pretende crear, inexistentes; de hecho, la sinopsis es bastante mejor que el desarrollo de la misma en la novela. El volumen de páginas que ocupa es excesivo, pudiéndose desarrollar en poco más de doscientas páginas.
Yendo un poco más al detalle y analizando un poco mejor la obra a nivel algo más formal, hay también muchos puntos que justifican la puntuación que le he dado.
Los diálogos no tienen sentido; en más de una ocasión la escritora crea malos entendidos que, en realidad, no existen, justificándolos por el estado anímico de los personajes que intervienen. Si bien los malos entendidos pueden ser un buen recurso narrativo, no debemos olvidar que en literatura todo debe seguir una línea lógica y, si los diálogos son coherentes, que aparezca un malentendido cuando el mensaje está siendo directo y coherente, es un error que deslegitima dicho malentendido. Además, resultan demasiado impostados incluso para una novela de este género. Sin solución de continuidad ni anterior ni posterior, de pronto algunos diálogos se cortan por algo que, por lo que deducimos después, son ruidos o susurros, etc. que no se explican después. La falta de acotaciones narrativas en este tipo de casos resulta en una narración confusa, pesada y difícil de seguir.
La escritora abusa del decir y no utiliza casi nunca el mostrar. Sólo nos muestra el paisaje, momento donde se recrea en las descripciones (quizá el único punto fuerte de la novela), pero pocas veces nos muestra una escena, prefiere decirnos lo que ocurre, cómo se sienten los personajes y ya está. Si el personaje está triste, simplemente dice “Emily estaba triste”, en vez de describir su rostro, su expresión...
La autora usa el "Deus ex machina" para salvar a Emily de cualquier cosa, hasta tal punto que al final, independientemente de la situación en la que se halle, sabemos que nada va a pasarle. Además abusa de las falsas expectativas, por lo que al final, tras varios desengaños, cualquier expectativa que intente crear luego resulta insustancial. A eso hay que añadir que, para acentuar el dramatismo, Emily está siempre al borde del amago de infarto: cualquier ruido la lleva al desmayo. De esta guisa, oye un ruido inquietante en el bosque que casi hace que se desmaye (en una novela normal, si esto ocurre, sería importante o una trampa para la próxima vez, donde el personaje tendría la guardia baja) para resultar ser un zorro. Pasan por un campamento gitano super peligroso, Emily está al borde del desmayo por el estrés... Estaban cenando y ni se fijan en ellos. Y suma y sigue (no me extiendo en más ejemplos, porque el espacio es limitado). Y, el último y más notorio de Deus ex Machina, resulta en la muerte oportunísima de Montoni para librarse del problema, pues la autora estaba por contar otra cosa (más absurda aún) y ya no lo interesaba la trama de Italia (prefiere dedicarse al volumen IV, sin ningún tipo de interés).
La autora, incapaz de mostrar la virtud de Emily, se empecina en repetir una y otra vez lo virtuosa, honesta y buena que es. Si el autor tiene que repetir tantas veces que un personaje es así porque resulta incapaz de mostrar con las acciones del mismo esas cualidades... Apaga y vámonos. Aborrece las supersticiones, pero es la más supersticiosa. Aborrece los rumores, pero pide a las criadas que le cuenten todos los cotilleos... Ella, en sí, ya es un personaje inconsistente. De hecho, de tan virtuosa resulta pedante, pava, infantil, absurda y tonta. Tras tantas tribulaciones encuentra a Valancourt y cree antes en los rumores de gente con las que prácticamente no ha hablado nunca antes de creer o dar una oportunidad a explicarse a su amor, decidiendo terminar la relación sin más, porque perdió la virtud.
Otro de los misterios inexplicables en esta novela es la cantidad de gente que se enamora perdidamente de una chica como Emily, sosa, altiva e incoherente sin mediar palabra con ella. Conforme camina, le salen veinticuatro pretendientes dispuestos a hacer cualquier cosa por ella. No olvidemos, tampoco, que los dramas que vive Emily los vive casi voluntariamente: se trata de una chica que ve la vida pasar a su alrededor sin intervenir, dejándose llevar. Si bien al principio de la novela es justificado por su pasado, a medida que avanza la trama es de esperar que el personaje evolucione acorde a lo que está viviendo e intente sobrevivir y escapar a su tormento, pero esto no ocurre. Cuando uno de sus locos enamorados (por poner un ejemplo) le propone que huya con él de Udolfo y se libre de Montoni, decide que no puede hacer eso y pide al hombre que si aprecia su honor y le estima, se vaya. En un diálogo interminable de ruegos y negativas, acaba habiendo un duelo y el pretendiente acaba malherido. Habiendo tenido posibilidad de huir y habiendo renunciado a ella voluntariamente, luego lamenta su suerte y su destino al estar en Udolfo (estoooo... ¿algún problema de disociación con la realidad?).
Varias cosas quedan muy claras en la novela: que Emily sólo sabe llorar, desmayarse y quedarse pálida y que todo es muy melancólico. En la vida he leído una novela donde la palabra "melancólico" y toda su familia se repita tantísimas veces por página. ¡Llega hasta a mirar una pared melancólicamente! Demasiado.
Definitivamente, debo agradecer que otros autores supieran superar el escollo que representa esta novela y siguieran desarrollando el género de literatura gótica, que dio obras infinitamente más interesantes que ésta.
¿Recomendable? En absoluto.
So many plots, so much time to tell them all, so many left on the wayside. This book is long and meandering. I have to admit I stopped reading the poems halfway through because they were mediocre. Favorite character was Annette, she is ridiculous and I love her. The actual main character, Emily, is fine but reading about her through a modern lens is annoying. So many times I wanted to shake her and be like “These people/situations are terrible, you don’t have to be noble and ride them out”. And her love interest, Valancourt, gives off major Edward Cullen “watch you while you’re sleeping” vibes.
Honestly, this book is weirdly entertaining for how many issues I had with it. Girl could have used an editor and made this actually great. Instead we get this crazy bloated story that has every thought the author had about it crammed into it.
Oh well, off to read Northanger Abbey which is what inspired this read to begin with.
Honestly, this book is weirdly entertaining for how many issues I had with it. Girl could have used an editor and made this actually great. Instead we get this crazy bloated story that has every thought the author had about it crammed into it.
Oh well, off to read Northanger Abbey which is what inspired this read to begin with.
adventurous
emotional
mysterious
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
This book is amazing. I'm working my way through the books that Jane Austen read and enjoyed and no list is complete without The Mysteries of Udolpho. The book was very, VERY slow to start (truly, if I never hear about another shade or crag again in my life I will be happy). But, for me, the payoff was worth the slog through the first portion. Radcliffe builds tension amazingly and many times I really found myself on the edge of my seat wondering what would happen next.
This book also reads very melodramatic compared to what we, as modern readers, are likely used to. It seems like all your good characters are always fainting and crying but I say lean into the melodrama! When I stopped rolling my eyes and resisting the over the top perfection of the heroine and the extreme villainy of the baddies I thoroughly enjoyed my time in this book.
Finally, I know this book is often, and rightly so, associated with Northanger Abbey but I couldn't help but think this book would have been Marianne Dashwood's bible. In so many ways Marianne is a more realistic version of Radcliffe's Emily. Both love the sublime, believe that their first love is their only love, and both enjoy dwelling on former happier times and scenes.
I hope you'll give this oldie but goodie a try.
This book also reads very melodramatic compared to what we, as modern readers, are likely used to. It seems like all your good characters are always fainting and crying but I say lean into the melodrama! When I stopped rolling my eyes and resisting the over the top perfection of the heroine and the extreme villainy of the baddies I thoroughly enjoyed my time in this book.
Finally, I know this book is often, and rightly so, associated with Northanger Abbey but I couldn't help but think this book would have been Marianne Dashwood's bible. In so many ways Marianne is a more realistic version of Radcliffe's Emily. Both love the sublime, believe that their first love is their only love, and both enjoy dwelling on former happier times and scenes.
I hope you'll give this oldie but goodie a try.