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4.07 AVERAGE
4.07 AVERAGE
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
sad
tense
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
dark
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
This was absolutely not what I expected. A glimpse into the life and mind of a gentlewoman in the mid 19th century, this book shines a light on many issues that seem modern today. Brontë's protagonist is passionate and heroic, a rational but surely radical (for the era)thinker. Even the way this book is structured seems contemporary and dynamic. I would recommend this book to all young women considering ever getting married, as well as people dealing with issues of substance abuse within their families. Thought provoking, but also a pleasure to read.
I loved this! There was drama, romance, and motherhood. There were times it felt a bit preachy and sometimes I got really annoyed, but I think it was more of a time period difference than anything.
I would recommend this if you enjoy Jane Austen or Jane Eyre.
I would recommend this if you enjoy Jane Austen or Jane Eyre.
GOTICKÉ PRVKY V KNIHE NÁJOMNÍČKA VO WILDFELL HALL (posledný bod obsahuje menší spoiler)
Klasické veľdiela ako Nájomníčka vo Wildfell Hall sa mi ťažko recenzujú. Ide vždy o také komplexné knihy, že je ťažké celý zážitok nejak zhrnúť do jedného príspevku. Najradšej by som napísala celú seminárnu prácu. Preto som sa tentokrát rozhodla pozrieť iba na jeden aspekt. V predošlom videu som spomínala, že sa začínam zaujímať o gotickú literatúru, a keďže táto kniha mala gotické prvky, rozhodla som sa ich hľadať a knihu si anotovať. Určite ich tam bolo aj viac, ale ja som postrehla tieto:
1. Prvým znakom, ktorý som si všimla hneď úvode, je (časová) vzdialenosť udalostí, ktoré nám ide Gilbert pomocou listov rozprávať. Odohralo sa to v jeseni 1827, príbeh sa teda neodohráva tu a teraz. Príbeh je taktiež prerozprávaný.
2. Ďalším gotickým prvkom je výskyt opustených veľkých budov, zvyčajne hradov, kaštieľov a pod. Tu nám to reprezentuje Wildfell Hall. Pri prvom opise je zdôraznené, že ide o veľmi starú rozpadajúcu sa opustenú budovu, ktorá pripomína skôr ruiny ako miesto na život. V knihe sa v spojení s Wildfell Hall spomínajú frázy ako „ghostly legends“, „haunted hall“, „untilled and untrimmed, abandoned“ a pod.
3. Gotickým prvkom je aj tajuplnosť a cudzosť, ktorá je v tomto prípade reprezentovaná postavou Helen Grahamovej. Nikto o nej nič nevie, nepozná jej minulosť a dokonca si myslia, že je možno aj cudzinkou z inej krajiny, lebo sa správa úplne inak ako „normálna“ britská dáma.
4. V knihe sa vyskytuje násilný čin a pomsta, keď Gilbert zasiahne svojho rivala Fredericka. Aj toto je jeden z gotických prvkov, ktorý sa často vyskytuje v gotických románoch. Násilie alebo pomsta, alebo oboje.
Klasické veľdiela ako Nájomníčka vo Wildfell Hall sa mi ťažko recenzujú. Ide vždy o také komplexné knihy, že je ťažké celý zážitok nejak zhrnúť do jedného príspevku. Najradšej by som napísala celú seminárnu prácu. Preto som sa tentokrát rozhodla pozrieť iba na jeden aspekt. V predošlom videu som spomínala, že sa začínam zaujímať o gotickú literatúru, a keďže táto kniha mala gotické prvky, rozhodla som sa ich hľadať a knihu si anotovať. Určite ich tam bolo aj viac, ale ja som postrehla tieto:
1. Prvým znakom, ktorý som si všimla hneď úvode, je (časová) vzdialenosť udalostí, ktoré nám ide Gilbert pomocou listov rozprávať. Odohralo sa to v jeseni 1827, príbeh sa teda neodohráva tu a teraz. Príbeh je taktiež prerozprávaný.
2. Ďalším gotickým prvkom je výskyt opustených veľkých budov, zvyčajne hradov, kaštieľov a pod. Tu nám to reprezentuje Wildfell Hall. Pri prvom opise je zdôraznené, že ide o veľmi starú rozpadajúcu sa opustenú budovu, ktorá pripomína skôr ruiny ako miesto na život. V knihe sa v spojení s Wildfell Hall spomínajú frázy ako „ghostly legends“, „haunted hall“, „untilled and untrimmed, abandoned“ a pod.
3. Gotickým prvkom je aj tajuplnosť a cudzosť, ktorá je v tomto prípade reprezentovaná postavou Helen Grahamovej. Nikto o nej nič nevie, nepozná jej minulosť a dokonca si myslia, že je možno aj cudzinkou z inej krajiny, lebo sa správa úplne inak ako „normálna“ britská dáma.
4. V knihe sa vyskytuje násilný čin a pomsta, keď Gilbert zasiahne svojho rivala Fredericka. Aj toto je jeden z gotických prvkov, ktorý sa často vyskytuje v gotických románoch. Násilie alebo pomsta, alebo oboje.
This book is a RIOT.
Anne has something to say on numerous topics, chiefly concerning men and women at the time of writing: marriage, fidelity, love, parenthood, happiness, oppression and principles, abusive men and quiet women, wilful women and damned men, etc. Class, as with all of the Brontë's works, also factors in, and is spoken about with appropriate frankness. Jane Austen would faint to see the way the characters in this book talk - but I've now doubt it was truer to Anne's dealings with real life, especially voicing some of her anger through Helen, who speaks her mind more openly than Elizabeth Bennet could dream in England 40 years earlier. Who could ever dream of a Georgian heroine saying "I charge you upon your honour as a gentleman, (if you have any), to answer truly. Did I, or did I not?" "No," muttered he, turning away. "Speak up sir; they can't hear you."" (212). Go Helen!
Predictably, my favourite part was Gilbert and Helen, but they, too, like the rest of this book, had numerous - and conflicting - things to say. After reading Helen's diary it must make you wonder if love, as we in the modern era know it, could be found at all in a society that prized so many other things above it. I love that this book gives Helen a happy ending, as much as she can have one, and Gilbert, too, because the poor thing suffers immensely (especially in the back half of his letters). At the time when this book was an absolute outrage - a woman running away from her abusive husband, child in tow, was so abhorrent to God and law and man and blah blah blah - Anne did not pull any punches and makes it clear how very RIGHT Helen was to act as she does. And more, for she gets rewarded for acting so! Maybe this was a concession, in some ways, because ending it with a independent Helen might've been a bit too much... but it comes across as astonishingly modern to let a woman enjoy a second marriage with a man who truly adores her and her son ("I affectionately stroked his curling locks, and even kissed his ivory forehead: he was my own Helen's son, and therefore mine; and as such I have ever since regarded him"(290)). And the truthful, powerful connection between them was such a huge part of the book in general.
Mr. Huntingdon, and his laddie mates, made me so disgusted that it took me twice as long to get through this book because I had to keep pausing for feeling sick. I would read another horrendous thing that was done, or said, and went to Youtube to watch some puppies. The worst part is that I have no doubt Anne saw or heard of these things really happen to women she knew, or read, or spoke about. I have no doubt many Victorian women suffered twice the pain and anguish Helen does - and worst, find no escape from it for their whole lives. You have to feel sick and angry for them. The way Helen pines her way across five years of life with nothing to show for it but the brutally stomped on dreams and love she once had for her adulterous cad of a husband. The way Millicent is essentially duped into marriage - her mother and he wants it, she tries to say no, and they pretend she's said yes, and she's effectively tricked down the aisle to a man she doesn't want. I felt so close to throwing up reading it. The only consolation there is that Hattersley is the only man of Arthur's friends who sees the error of his ways and sticks to his resolution to be better ("Thank her; it's her doing" (225)). I particularly loved the contradiction that although the males of Victorian society have made it paramount that a man has to look after his female dependents, when Helen points this out ("no generous mind delights to oppress the weak, but rather to cherish and protect"), Hattersley finds it "confounded flat to always be cherishing and protecting" (170). Sorry, sir, you did this? You PICKED her, didn't listen to her when she said no, continued your shitty ways, and are surprised when she's unhappy? And don't even get me started on Mr Hargrave, the original "Nice Guy," who becomes just as petulant and cold upon being rejected than any incel on Reddit could do. Gilbert and Frederick are about the only more than tolerable men in this book, and I'm convinced it is because Anne takes great pains to show them schooled by their female relations and come to a better, kinder, fairer understanding of the other sex. "I could readily forgive her prejudice against me, and her hard thoughts of our sex in general, when I saw to what brilliant specimens her experience had been limited." (234); "I've read it through, said I, advancing into the room, - "and I want to know if you'll forgive me - if you can forgive me?"" (236). As the protagonist, Gilbert grows quite a lot, and frequently realises how little he knows, and tries to compensate accordingly, by apologising and changing his behaviour. It's a great look for him.
As someone who is constantly subjected to the terror of death and the uncertainty of the afterlife, Mr. Huntingdon's pitiful and slow death while he writhes under fear both made me gleeful (haha you suck) and sympathise with him. It's hard not to feel sorry for a man who cries for his wife to come with him, to "plead" for him at the gates, though he remains selfish to the last with this wish (266). All the usual moralising about Christianity and God is about par for the course with English classics and I'm very used to it. It was not as heavy as some others I've read, however, and it's a lot more palatable when it's tied in with the Anne's proto-feminist characters and story. Her constant pleading and efforts to make Arthur a good person and Christian say far more about her good character than coming off as annoyingly pious. Arthur was so cartoonishly unfaithful that he frequently made me laugh; "But are you determined, Arthur, that I shall not meet you in Heaven?" "Humph! What should I do there, I should like to know?" (262). He almost predates the sort of Maverick atheist figure of supernatural stories. When you know more about Anne's life with her drunkard brother, Arthur's excessive drinking and abuse becomes that much more horrifying.
I think you could go on forever about the mastery of this book, how influential and damning it was at the time - and sadly, still is - what Anne has to say about all kinds of topics. I really liked her writing style, as she doesn't favour gothic or flowery descriptions like Charlotte and Emily, but is a bit more frank and straightforward. Not to say I don't love that flowery style - Jane Eyre is my favourite book, after all (though I am contemplating this as a VERY close second...). She cuts to the action and I was very thankful for it. Speaking of her sister's works in comparison with Tenant can yield some interesting questions - especially about male rogues and the "female redemption" narrative that is so common, then and today. While Emily takes Catherine down with Heathcliff, Charlotte has Jane succeed, but Anne firmly resolves that despite Helen's herculean attempts, you cannot save a man by trying, and you can live to find love with a worthy man after that. Which is exceedingly different from the ideas her sisters have, especially in a time where to make a man's comfort and home was all a woman was bred for. What does this mean, that each of their heroines fail at such a burdensome task - or don't?
Tenant feels so modern and reads like a contemporary book in so many ways that it was alarming at first. I mean, Helen even SEES Arthur cheating on her, and it's narrated. That was so unthinkable to novels even a decade earlier. I think even people who don't generally read classics can get through this with little difficulty and confusion about what the story is about and what it's trying to explore.
Anne has something to say on numerous topics, chiefly concerning men and women at the time of writing: marriage, fidelity, love, parenthood, happiness, oppression and principles, abusive men and quiet women, wilful women and damned men, etc. Class, as with all of the Brontë's works, also factors in, and is spoken about with appropriate frankness. Jane Austen would faint to see the way the characters in this book talk - but I've now doubt it was truer to Anne's dealings with real life, especially voicing some of her anger through Helen, who speaks her mind more openly than Elizabeth Bennet could dream in England 40 years earlier. Who could ever dream of a Georgian heroine saying "I charge you upon your honour as a gentleman, (if you have any), to answer truly. Did I, or did I not?" "No," muttered he, turning away. "Speak up sir; they can't hear you."" (212). Go Helen!
Predictably, my favourite part was Gilbert and Helen, but they, too, like the rest of this book, had numerous - and conflicting - things to say. After reading Helen's diary it must make you wonder if love, as we in the modern era know it, could be found at all in a society that prized so many other things above it. I love that this book gives Helen a happy ending, as much as she can have one, and Gilbert, too, because the poor thing suffers immensely (especially in the back half of his letters). At the time when this book was an absolute outrage - a woman running away from her abusive husband, child in tow, was so abhorrent to God and law and man and blah blah blah - Anne did not pull any punches and makes it clear how very RIGHT Helen was to act as she does. And more, for she gets rewarded for acting so! Maybe this was a concession, in some ways, because ending it with a independent Helen might've been a bit too much... but it comes across as astonishingly modern to let a woman enjoy a second marriage with a man who truly adores her and her son ("I affectionately stroked his curling locks, and even kissed his ivory forehead: he was my own Helen's son, and therefore mine; and as such I have ever since regarded him"(290)). And the truthful, powerful connection between them was such a huge part of the book in general.
Mr. Huntingdon, and his laddie mates, made me so disgusted that it took me twice as long to get through this book because I had to keep pausing for feeling sick. I would read another horrendous thing that was done, or said, and went to Youtube to watch some puppies. The worst part is that I have no doubt Anne saw or heard of these things really happen to women she knew, or read, or spoke about. I have no doubt many Victorian women suffered twice the pain and anguish Helen does - and worst, find no escape from it for their whole lives. You have to feel sick and angry for them. The way Helen pines her way across five years of life with nothing to show for it but the brutally stomped on dreams and love she once had for her adulterous cad of a husband. The way Millicent is essentially duped into marriage - her mother and he wants it, she tries to say no, and they pretend she's said yes, and she's effectively tricked down the aisle to a man she doesn't want. I felt so close to throwing up reading it. The only consolation there is that Hattersley is the only man of Arthur's friends who sees the error of his ways and sticks to his resolution to be better ("Thank her; it's her doing" (225)). I particularly loved the contradiction that although the males of Victorian society have made it paramount that a man has to look after his female dependents, when Helen points this out ("no generous mind delights to oppress the weak, but rather to cherish and protect"), Hattersley finds it "confounded flat to always be cherishing and protecting" (170). Sorry, sir, you did this? You PICKED her, didn't listen to her when she said no, continued your shitty ways, and are surprised when she's unhappy? And don't even get me started on Mr Hargrave, the original "Nice Guy," who becomes just as petulant and cold upon being rejected than any incel on Reddit could do. Gilbert and Frederick are about the only more than tolerable men in this book, and I'm convinced it is because Anne takes great pains to show them schooled by their female relations and come to a better, kinder, fairer understanding of the other sex. "I could readily forgive her prejudice against me, and her hard thoughts of our sex in general, when I saw to what brilliant specimens her experience had been limited." (234); "I've read it through, said I, advancing into the room, - "and I want to know if you'll forgive me - if you can forgive me?"" (236). As the protagonist, Gilbert grows quite a lot, and frequently realises how little he knows, and tries to compensate accordingly, by apologising and changing his behaviour. It's a great look for him.
As someone who is constantly subjected to the terror of death and the uncertainty of the afterlife, Mr. Huntingdon's pitiful and slow death while he writhes under fear both made me gleeful (haha you suck) and sympathise with him. It's hard not to feel sorry for a man who cries for his wife to come with him, to "plead" for him at the gates, though he remains selfish to the last with this wish (266). All the usual moralising about Christianity and God is about par for the course with English classics and I'm very used to it. It was not as heavy as some others I've read, however, and it's a lot more palatable when it's tied in with the Anne's proto-feminist characters and story. Her constant pleading and efforts to make Arthur a good person and Christian say far more about her good character than coming off as annoyingly pious. Arthur was so cartoonishly unfaithful that he frequently made me laugh; "But are you determined, Arthur, that I shall not meet you in Heaven?" "Humph! What should I do there, I should like to know?" (262). He almost predates the sort of Maverick atheist figure of supernatural stories. When you know more about Anne's life with her drunkard brother, Arthur's excessive drinking and abuse becomes that much more horrifying.
I think you could go on forever about the mastery of this book, how influential and damning it was at the time - and sadly, still is - what Anne has to say about all kinds of topics. I really liked her writing style, as she doesn't favour gothic or flowery descriptions like Charlotte and Emily, but is a bit more frank and straightforward. Not to say I don't love that flowery style - Jane Eyre is my favourite book, after all (though I am contemplating this as a VERY close second...). She cuts to the action and I was very thankful for it. Speaking of her sister's works in comparison with Tenant can yield some interesting questions - especially about male rogues and the "female redemption" narrative that is so common, then and today. While Emily takes Catherine down with Heathcliff, Charlotte has Jane succeed, but Anne firmly resolves that despite Helen's herculean attempts, you cannot save a man by trying, and you can live to find love with a worthy man after that. Which is exceedingly different from the ideas her sisters have, especially in a time where to make a man's comfort and home was all a woman was bred for. What does this mean, that each of their heroines fail at such a burdensome task - or don't?
Tenant feels so modern and reads like a contemporary book in so many ways that it was alarming at first. I mean, Helen even SEES Arthur cheating on her, and it's narrated. That was so unthinkable to novels even a decade earlier. I think even people who don't generally read classics can get through this with little difficulty and confusion about what the story is about and what it's trying to explore.