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A review by aprilmei
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë
5.0
I was pleasantly surprised to like this story as much as I did. I loved the wittiness in the banter between all the characters--the clever remarks and the quick responses. I particularly like Helen's exchange with Mr. Boarham and the fact that Helen was able to see past societal reasons for marrying and to continue to desire love and compatibility in her reasons was a strong female statement. We can tell that Huntingdon is trouble as he teases Helen by using Miss Wilmot as a pawn in his game. His overall shallowness and selfishness foreshadows what is to come and I, probably like many others, found myself saying, "Don't do it, Helen! Stay away!" But how many of us deep in that situation could have seen the red flags ourselves, being too inexperienced at that age and blinded by charm and infatuation? Her seemingly unrequited love for him gets the best of her and binds her innocence tightly to him. Huntingdon's debauchery with his boys still carries over to present day, it seems. Boys will be boys and things don't really change, do they? I admire Helen's badass self-restraint throughout! The unexpected twists and turns throughout the story were a welcome puzzle of suspense and drama that unfolded to the truth we get to uncover along with Gilbert. I was glad at the happy ending for them both.
"Richard Wilson, Jane's younger brother, sat in a corner, apparently good-tempered, but silent and shy, desirous to escape observation, but willing enough to listen and observe: and, although somewhat out of his element, he would have been happy enough in his own quiet way, if my mother could only have let him alone, but in her mistaken kindness, she would keep persecuting him with her attentions--pressing upon him all manner of viands, under the notion that he was too bashful to help himself, and obliging him to shout across the room his monosyllabic replies to the numerous questions and observations by which she vainly attempted to draw him into conversation." pg. 34 (I love the visual sense of this character description--and the hilarity!)
"Through him, I was at once delivered from all formality, and terror, and constraint. In love affairs, there is no mediator like a merry, simple-hearted child--ever ready to cement divided hearts, to span the unfriendly gulph of custom, to melt the ice of cold reserve, and overthrow the separating walls of dread formality and pride." pg. 84
"It was a dull, gloomy morning, the weather had changed like my prospects, and the rain was pattering against the window. I rose nevertheless, and went out; not to look after the farm, though that would serve as my excuse, but to cool my brain, and regain, if possible, a sufficient degree of composure to meet the family at the morning meal without exciting inconvenient remarks. If I got a wetting, that, in conjunction with a pretended over exertion before breakfast, might excuse my sudden loss of appetite; and if a cold ensued, the severer the better, it would help to account for the sullen moods and moping melancholy likely to cloud my brow for long enough." pg. 102
"'Because, I imagine there must be only a very, very few men in the world, that I should like to marry; and of those few, it is ten to one I may never be acquainted with one; or if I should, it is twenty to one, her may not happen to be single, or to take a fancy to me.'" pg. 124 (Girl, story of my life!)
"I am now quite settled down to my usual routine of steady occupations and quiet amusements--tolerably contented and cheerful, but still looking forward to spring with the hope of returning to town, not for its gaieties and dissipation, for for the chance of meeting Mr. Huntingdon once again; for still, he is always in my thoughts and in my dreams. In all my employments, whatever I do, or see, or hear, has an ultimate reference to him; whatever skill or knowledge I acquire is some day to be turned to his advantage or amusement; whatever new beauties in nature or art I discover, are to be depicted to meet his eye, or stored in my memory to be told him at some future period. This, at least, is the hope that I cherish, the fancy that lights me on my lonely way." pg. 143 (Verily, such as it is to be in love!)
"He is very fond of me--almost too fond. I could do with less caressing and more rationality: I should like to be less of a pet and more of a friend, if I might choose--but I won't complain of that: I am only afraid his affection loses in depth where it gains in ardour. I sometimes liken it to a fire of dry twigs and branches compared with one of solid coal--very bright and hot, but if it should burn itself out and leave nothing but ashes behind, what shall I do? But it won't--it shan't, I am determined--and surely I have power to keep it alive." pg. 191 (What a fitting analogy and such a naive wish!)
"I love him still; and he loves me, in his own way--but oh, how different from the love I could have given, and once had hoped to receive! how little real sympathy there exists between us; how many of my thoughts and feelings are gloomily cloistered within my own mind; how much of my higher and better self is indeed unmarried--doomed either to harden and sour in the sunless shade of solitude, or to quite degenerate and all away for lack of nutriment in this unwholesome soil!" pg. 232 (So tragic and how many people out there have felt the same disillusionment?)
"Only let the stormy severity of this winter weather be somewhat abated, and then, some morning Mr. Huntingdon will come down to a solitary breakfast-table, and perhaps be clamouring through the house for his invisible wife and child, when they are some fifty miles on their way to the western world--or it may be more, for we shall leave him hours before the dawn, and it is not probable he will discover the loss of both, until the day is far advanced." pg. 347 (In context of the story, this was such a liberating passage to read and hope for!)
"'But, if we may never meet, and never hope to meet again, is it a crime to exchange our thoughts by letter? May not kindred spirits meet, and mingle in communion whatever be the fate and circumstances of their earthly tenements?'" pg. 387
"'This rose is not so fragrant as a summer flower, but it has stood through hardships none of them could bear: the cold rain of winter has sufficed to nourish it, and its faint sun to warm it; the bleak winds have not blanched it, or broken its stem, and the keen frost has not blighted it. Look, Gilbert, it is still fresh and blooming as a flower can be, with the cold snow even now on its petals.--Will you have it?'" pg. 465 (Beautiful analogy!)
Book: borrowed from Skyline College library.
"Richard Wilson, Jane's younger brother, sat in a corner, apparently good-tempered, but silent and shy, desirous to escape observation, but willing enough to listen and observe: and, although somewhat out of his element, he would have been happy enough in his own quiet way, if my mother could only have let him alone, but in her mistaken kindness, she would keep persecuting him with her attentions--pressing upon him all manner of viands, under the notion that he was too bashful to help himself, and obliging him to shout across the room his monosyllabic replies to the numerous questions and observations by which she vainly attempted to draw him into conversation." pg. 34 (I love the visual sense of this character description--and the hilarity!)
"Through him, I was at once delivered from all formality, and terror, and constraint. In love affairs, there is no mediator like a merry, simple-hearted child--ever ready to cement divided hearts, to span the unfriendly gulph of custom, to melt the ice of cold reserve, and overthrow the separating walls of dread formality and pride." pg. 84
"It was a dull, gloomy morning, the weather had changed like my prospects, and the rain was pattering against the window. I rose nevertheless, and went out; not to look after the farm, though that would serve as my excuse, but to cool my brain, and regain, if possible, a sufficient degree of composure to meet the family at the morning meal without exciting inconvenient remarks. If I got a wetting, that, in conjunction with a pretended over exertion before breakfast, might excuse my sudden loss of appetite; and if a cold ensued, the severer the better, it would help to account for the sullen moods and moping melancholy likely to cloud my brow for long enough." pg. 102
"'Because, I imagine there must be only a very, very few men in the world, that I should like to marry; and of those few, it is ten to one I may never be acquainted with one; or if I should, it is twenty to one, her may not happen to be single, or to take a fancy to me.'" pg. 124 (Girl, story of my life!)
"I am now quite settled down to my usual routine of steady occupations and quiet amusements--tolerably contented and cheerful, but still looking forward to spring with the hope of returning to town, not for its gaieties and dissipation, for for the chance of meeting Mr. Huntingdon once again; for still, he is always in my thoughts and in my dreams. In all my employments, whatever I do, or see, or hear, has an ultimate reference to him; whatever skill or knowledge I acquire is some day to be turned to his advantage or amusement; whatever new beauties in nature or art I discover, are to be depicted to meet his eye, or stored in my memory to be told him at some future period. This, at least, is the hope that I cherish, the fancy that lights me on my lonely way." pg. 143 (Verily, such as it is to be in love!)
"He is very fond of me--almost too fond. I could do with less caressing and more rationality: I should like to be less of a pet and more of a friend, if I might choose--but I won't complain of that: I am only afraid his affection loses in depth where it gains in ardour. I sometimes liken it to a fire of dry twigs and branches compared with one of solid coal--very bright and hot, but if it should burn itself out and leave nothing but ashes behind, what shall I do? But it won't--it shan't, I am determined--and surely I have power to keep it alive." pg. 191 (What a fitting analogy and such a naive wish!)
"I love him still; and he loves me, in his own way--but oh, how different from the love I could have given, and once had hoped to receive! how little real sympathy there exists between us; how many of my thoughts and feelings are gloomily cloistered within my own mind; how much of my higher and better self is indeed unmarried--doomed either to harden and sour in the sunless shade of solitude, or to quite degenerate and all away for lack of nutriment in this unwholesome soil!" pg. 232 (So tragic and how many people out there have felt the same disillusionment?)
"Only let the stormy severity of this winter weather be somewhat abated, and then, some morning Mr. Huntingdon will come down to a solitary breakfast-table, and perhaps be clamouring through the house for his invisible wife and child, when they are some fifty miles on their way to the western world--or it may be more, for we shall leave him hours before the dawn, and it is not probable he will discover the loss of both, until the day is far advanced." pg. 347 (In context of the story, this was such a liberating passage to read and hope for!)
"'But, if we may never meet, and never hope to meet again, is it a crime to exchange our thoughts by letter? May not kindred spirits meet, and mingle in communion whatever be the fate and circumstances of their earthly tenements?'" pg. 387
"'This rose is not so fragrant as a summer flower, but it has stood through hardships none of them could bear: the cold rain of winter has sufficed to nourish it, and its faint sun to warm it; the bleak winds have not blanched it, or broken its stem, and the keen frost has not blighted it. Look, Gilbert, it is still fresh and blooming as a flower can be, with the cold snow even now on its petals.--Will you have it?'" pg. 465 (Beautiful analogy!)
Book: borrowed from Skyline College library.