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A review by axl_oswaldo
The Golden Bowl by Henry James
challenging
emotional
inspiring
reflective
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
At the end of May, I was chatting to a good friend of mine when suddenly an idea came to my mind, and then, as if in hesitation, I asked: "how about reading <b>The Golden Bowl</b> together?" Well, it was not as though this suggestion came completely out of the blue, as we were talking about our previous reading experiences that had been challenging for us; I said, "Henry James has been a challenging author for me, yet he is my favorite American-English author ... so let's do a buddy-read, are you in?"
My friend had only read a few novels by James, such as <b>The American</b>, <b>Washington Square</b>, and maybe another one that I'm missing, and so had I. Thus, <b>The Golden Bowl</b> turned into a last-minute plan, without knowing what this novel would be about, or even if it would be more challenging than our previous experiences reading a Henry James novel.
It turns out that <u><b>The Golden Bowl</b> is the most difficult, challenging, confusing, ambiguous, at times frustrating and not-to-the-point book I've ever read in English, and probably of my life</u>.
Now, let's be honest here: <u>did I like it?</u>
If you want the short answer, <b>"yes, I loved it and it has become an all-time favorite, it will definitely be on my top 12 of 2022."</b>
The long answer, well, let's see if I can explain why I did love it and why I would never recommend this book to anyone.
<b>1.</b> <b>The book has no plot</b>. That means almost the whole novel—600 or so pages—is happening in the characters' minds. There are only 6 characters in the entire novel, probably 10 if we consider those three or four extra characters who are mentioned once or twice in the entire book. There is also a pattern here: the novel is divided into 2 volumes, and every volume into 3 books each, which means we have 6 books and 6 characters; what I could tell is that every character becomes the main character in a particular book, having a crucial, very important part into that specific book. Maybe I'm wrong here, but that was my impression while I read the novel at some point.
<b>2.</b> The novel depicts perfectly and in detail two main topics: <b>marriage and adultery</b>. Throughout the story, we’ll see how two marriages and an adulterous relationship are thoroughly described, however, we actually ‘never’ see that happening. As I said, there is no plot since James is using an early-modernism <b>stream of consciousness</b> in the entire book in order to describe this situation—how adultery may affect on marriage, to say the least—its consequences and its possible solutions (if they are necessary for the sake of the characters involved). In addition, there are other topics that are part of the novel and are also important, for instance, people's and mainly women's role in society—James is also depicting the contrast between American and European societies, a typical topic in many of his works—and the strong and genuine bond between a father and his daughter.
<b>3.</b> If I say I wouldn't recommend this book it's because I know many people are not fond of James' writing style, and I can really see why. I wouldn't say his prose is difficult to read—it was difficult for me, though this is not implicit in his narrative—but really <b>ambiguous</b>. Sometimes even the characters don't know what is going on or what the other characters are saying, and for the record, it is kind of funny to see that happening. Most of the dialogues are a series of question-answer thing—I don't know how to describe it—that is also confusing; let me show you an example of a common dialogue in the novel, so you can see it:
<i>'And that’s just it – that he doesn’t?’
‘That’s just it,’ said the Princess profoundly.
On which Mrs Assingham reflected. ‘Then how is Charlotte so held?’
‘Just by that.’
‘By her ignorance?’
‘By her ignorance.’
Fanny wondered. ‘A torment –?’
‘A torment,’ said Maggie with tears in her eyes.
Her companion a moment watched them. ‘But the Prince then –?’
‘How he’s held?’ Maggie asked.
‘How he’s held.’
‘Oh I can’t tell you that'</i>
Kind of confusing, huh?
<b>4.</b> Overall, I couldn't explain why I love reading Henry James books quite a bit. Perhaps his fundamental themes that are depicted deeply and thoroughly, maybe his prose or the fact that even when I don't make out what he is trying to say, I'm still enjoying it; I am not sure. One day, I just found myself gravitating towards his novels and I have read about 14 works (novels/novellas/short stories) by him so far, the reason? Again, I don't know, but I like them, I love them. What I know is that <b>The Golden Bowl</b> is absolutely the whole essence of Henry James; <b>just to mention one example</b>: in volume two, book fourth, there is a whole chapter where a woman, who has found out her marriage is a lie and her husband has an affair with her friend, is wondering how that could have happened; paragraph by paragraph, you can feel her pain, her sadness, her distress; you can tell how her life will change from that moment on, when her whole world seems to be bleak, dark; in other words, something finally opened her eyes to the truth and she needs to make up her mind on this soon. "What must I do?" "How can I do it?" "Who else will know about this?" and so on, and so on. I believe I never read such a thing before, not even in a novel whose main topic is adultery; such descriptions, such thoughts in the middle of something that might change your life forever, just when the whole truth is finally out in the open. I was impressed, and I'm still impressed even many days after having finish my reading.
<b>5.</b> My friend sent me a message about one week after we started the book, so I'd like to quote him: "I have started book 2 that begins with Adam Verver... that is some challenging reading for sure (I don't know what I read but I liked it)." Then that's it, I got the same feeling while I read not only book 2, but the whole novel. If my friend, being a native English speaker, wasn't always able to make out what the author was saying—perhaps he missed a few things in some chapters—how could someone expect I am going to understand more than him? Impossible! I was even more confused than him about this reading, a labyrinth with no way out. All in all, I think if you very much enjoyed reading a novel, and yet you don't find a way to explain why you loved it, that's totally fine, just let your feelings be out in the open; in short, <b>'live' the story and make it a part of you</b>. Actually, when I was in the middle of the book, more or less, I felt really overwhelmed by the amount of facts I was not understanding (I'm not talking about the language, word by word, but how the author builds his novel, so to speak); I felt as though I were trapped inside an elevator—I really fear enclosed spaces—and due to this scary feeling, I had to stop reading, for instance, in the middle of one paragraph and come back to it afterwards. That being said, I still love it.
<b>6.</b> Finally, <b>the ending</b> of <b>The Golden Bowl</b> is completely Jamesian, and again, if you have read at least one novel by this author, you know what kind of ending this will be. It is a happy(?) ending though, or at least an optimistic one, despite the fact that I had expected it to be more realistic (my first assumption was indeed completely different to what the ending really is in the end, but at least this positive 'change' was interesting and quite symbolic). Once I put the book down, I was still amazed to see that James was capable of writing a long novel with only six characters, which was something completely new for me; I'm still trying to remember a book that I had read before with such characteristics, but so far nothing is coming to my mind.
In conclusion, <b>The Golden Bowl</b> definitely lived up to my expectations, notwithstanding its flaws and its peculiar narrative. I'm not recommending this book though, you already know the reasons why. If you want to start reading this author, please don't pick up <b>The Golden Bowl</b>; if you already read your first James, and it wasn't your thing, yet you still want to try anything else, please don't pick up <b>The Golden Bowl</b>; if you liked any of his first novels—such as <b>Washington Square</b> that is more like a traditional novel—and then you want to try anything similar to them, please don't pick up <b>The Golden Bowl</b>.
Now, if you want to give it a go, I will be very happy to share my thoughts on the novel with you. I wholeheartedly hope this book—that is an all-time favorite for me—may fulfill your expectations, and also that you can eventually find yourself loving it.
Just for the record, I thought I would be reading <b>The Ambassadors</b> very soon, the only book of the final 'Jamesian trilogy' I haven't read thus far—I read <b>The Wings of the Dove</b> in March and I also liked it—however, I prefer to read some of his short novels and tales first, before diving into James favorite novel, probably at the end of this year or in 2023. Enough ambiguity for today. We'll see.
<b>Favorite quotes</b> (I have highlighted like 50 remarkable quotes, so I had to choose only 9 among all of them – it has been a hard decision, as you can imagine):
<i>[T]hey smiled in emulation, vaguely, as if speech failed them through their having passed too far: she would have begun to wonder the next minute if it were reserved to them, for the last stage, to find their contact, like that of old friends reunited too much on the theory of the unchanged, subject to shy lapses.
'You don’t know what it is to have been loved and broken with. You haven’t been broken with, because in your relation what can there have been worth speaking of to break? Ours was everything a relation could be, filled to the brim with the wine of consciousness; and if it was to have no meaning, no better meaning than that such a creature as you could breathe upon it, at your hour, for blight, why was I myself dealt with all for deception? why condemned after a couple of short years to find the golden flame – oh the golden flame! – a mere handful of black ashes?'
'My idea is this, that when you only love a little you’re naturally not jealous – or are only jealous also a little, so that it doesn’t matter. But when you love in a deeper and intenser way, then you’re in the very same proportion jealous; your jealousy has intensity and, no doubt, ferocity. When however you love in the most abysmal and unutterable way of all – why then you’re beyond everything, and nothing can pull you down.'
'Take it, take it, take all you need of it; arrange yourself so as to suffer least, or to be at any rate least distorted and disfigured. Only see, see that I see, and make up your mind on this new basis at your convenience. Wait – it won’t be long – till you can confer again with [her], for you’ll do it much better then, more easily to both of us. Above all don’t show me, till you’ve got it well under, the dreadful blur, the ravage of suspense and embarrassment produced, and produced by my doing, in your personal serenity, your incomparable superiority.'
'I’ve strayed away, I’ve fancied myself free, given myself in other quantities, with larger generosities, because I thought you were different – different from what I now see. But it was only, only, because I didn’t know – and you must admit that you gave me scarce reason enough. Reason enough, I mean, to keep clear of my mistake; to which I confess, for which I’ll do exquisite penance, which you can help me now, I too beautifully feel, to get completely over.'
One beautiful woman – and one beautiful fortune. That’s what a creature of pure virtue exposes herself to when she suffers her pure virtue, suffers her sympathy, her disinterestedness, her exquisite sense for the lives of others, to carry her too far.
'If I’m unhappy I’m jealous; it must come to the same thing; and with you at least I’m not afraid of the word. If I’m jealous, don’t you see? I’m tormented,’ she went on – ‘and all the more if I’m helpless. And if I’m both helpless and tormented I stuff my pocket-handkerchief into my mouth, I keep it there, for the most part, night and day, so as not to be heard too indecently moaning. Only now, with you, at last, I can’t keep it longer; I’ve pulled it out and here I am fairly screaming at you.'
She knew more and more – every lapsing minute taught her – how he might by a single rightness make her cease to watch him; that rightness, a million miles removed from the queer actual, falling so short, which would consist of his breaking out to her diviningly, indulgently, with the last happy inconsequence. ‘Come away with me somewhere, you – and then we needn’t think, we needn’t even talk, of anything, of any one else’: five words like that would answer her, would break her utterly down.
She was making an effort that horribly hurt her, and as she couldn’t cry out her eyes swam in her silence. With them, all the same, through the square opening beside her, through the grey panorama of the London night, she achieved the feat of not losing sight of what she wanted; and her lips helped and protected her by being able to be gay.</i>
My friend had only read a few novels by James, such as <b>The American</b>, <b>Washington Square</b>, and maybe another one that I'm missing, and so had I. Thus, <b>The Golden Bowl</b> turned into a last-minute plan, without knowing what this novel would be about, or even if it would be more challenging than our previous experiences reading a Henry James novel.
It turns out that <u><b>The Golden Bowl</b> is the most difficult, challenging, confusing, ambiguous, at times frustrating and not-to-the-point book I've ever read in English, and probably of my life</u>.
Now, let's be honest here: <u>did I like it?</u>
If you want the short answer, <b>"yes, I loved it and it has become an all-time favorite, it will definitely be on my top 12 of 2022."</b>
The long answer, well, let's see if I can explain why I did love it and why I would never recommend this book to anyone.
<b>1.</b> <b>The book has no plot</b>. That means almost the whole novel—600 or so pages—is happening in the characters' minds. There are only 6 characters in the entire novel, probably 10 if we consider those three or four extra characters who are mentioned once or twice in the entire book. There is also a pattern here: the novel is divided into 2 volumes, and every volume into 3 books each, which means we have 6 books and 6 characters; what I could tell is that every character becomes the main character in a particular book, having a crucial, very important part into that specific book. Maybe I'm wrong here, but that was my impression while I read the novel at some point.
<b>2.</b> The novel depicts perfectly and in detail two main topics: <b>marriage and adultery</b>. Throughout the story, we’ll see how two marriages and an adulterous relationship are thoroughly described, however, we actually ‘never’ see that happening. As I said, there is no plot since James is using an early-modernism <b>stream of consciousness</b> in the entire book in order to describe this situation—how adultery may affect on marriage, to say the least—its consequences and its possible solutions (if they are necessary for the sake of the characters involved). In addition, there are other topics that are part of the novel and are also important, for instance, people's and mainly women's role in society—James is also depicting the contrast between American and European societies, a typical topic in many of his works—and the strong and genuine bond between a father and his daughter.
<b>3.</b> If I say I wouldn't recommend this book it's because I know many people are not fond of James' writing style, and I can really see why. I wouldn't say his prose is difficult to read—it was difficult for me, though this is not implicit in his narrative—but really <b>ambiguous</b>. Sometimes even the characters don't know what is going on or what the other characters are saying, and for the record, it is kind of funny to see that happening. Most of the dialogues are a series of question-answer thing—I don't know how to describe it—that is also confusing; let me show you an example of a common dialogue in the novel, so you can see it:
<i>'And that’s just it – that he doesn’t?’
‘That’s just it,’ said the Princess profoundly.
On which Mrs Assingham reflected. ‘Then how is Charlotte so held?’
‘Just by that.’
‘By her ignorance?’
‘By her ignorance.’
Fanny wondered. ‘A torment –?’
‘A torment,’ said Maggie with tears in her eyes.
Her companion a moment watched them. ‘But the Prince then –?’
‘How he’s held?’ Maggie asked.
‘How he’s held.’
‘Oh I can’t tell you that'</i>
Kind of confusing, huh?
<b>4.</b> Overall, I couldn't explain why I love reading Henry James books quite a bit. Perhaps his fundamental themes that are depicted deeply and thoroughly, maybe his prose or the fact that even when I don't make out what he is trying to say, I'm still enjoying it; I am not sure. One day, I just found myself gravitating towards his novels and I have read about 14 works (novels/novellas/short stories) by him so far, the reason? Again, I don't know, but I like them, I love them. What I know is that <b>The Golden Bowl</b> is absolutely the whole essence of Henry James; <b>just to mention one example</b>: in volume two, book fourth, there is a whole chapter where a woman, who has found out her marriage is a lie and her husband has an affair with her friend, is wondering how that could have happened; paragraph by paragraph, you can feel her pain, her sadness, her distress; you can tell how her life will change from that moment on, when her whole world seems to be bleak, dark; in other words, something finally opened her eyes to the truth and she needs to make up her mind on this soon. "What must I do?" "How can I do it?" "Who else will know about this?" and so on, and so on. I believe I never read such a thing before, not even in a novel whose main topic is adultery; such descriptions, such thoughts in the middle of something that might change your life forever, just when the whole truth is finally out in the open. I was impressed, and I'm still impressed even many days after having finish my reading.
<b>5.</b> My friend sent me a message about one week after we started the book, so I'd like to quote him: "I have started book 2 that begins with Adam Verver... that is some challenging reading for sure (I don't know what I read but I liked it)." Then that's it, I got the same feeling while I read not only book 2, but the whole novel. If my friend, being a native English speaker, wasn't always able to make out what the author was saying—perhaps he missed a few things in some chapters—how could someone expect I am going to understand more than him? Impossible! I was even more confused than him about this reading, a labyrinth with no way out. All in all, I think if you very much enjoyed reading a novel, and yet you don't find a way to explain why you loved it, that's totally fine, just let your feelings be out in the open; in short, <b>'live' the story and make it a part of you</b>. Actually, when I was in the middle of the book, more or less, I felt really overwhelmed by the amount of facts I was not understanding (I'm not talking about the language, word by word, but how the author builds his novel, so to speak); I felt as though I were trapped inside an elevator—I really fear enclosed spaces—and due to this scary feeling, I had to stop reading, for instance, in the middle of one paragraph and come back to it afterwards. That being said, I still love it.
<b>6.</b> Finally, <b>the ending</b> of <b>The Golden Bowl</b> is completely Jamesian, and again, if you have read at least one novel by this author, you know what kind of ending this will be. It is a happy(?) ending though, or at least an optimistic one, despite the fact that I had expected it to be more realistic (my first assumption was indeed completely different to what the ending really is in the end, but at least this positive 'change' was interesting and quite symbolic). Once I put the book down, I was still amazed to see that James was capable of writing a long novel with only six characters, which was something completely new for me; I'm still trying to remember a book that I had read before with such characteristics, but so far nothing is coming to my mind.
In conclusion, <b>The Golden Bowl</b> definitely lived up to my expectations, notwithstanding its flaws and its peculiar narrative. I'm not recommending this book though, you already know the reasons why. If you want to start reading this author, please don't pick up <b>The Golden Bowl</b>; if you already read your first James, and it wasn't your thing, yet you still want to try anything else, please don't pick up <b>The Golden Bowl</b>; if you liked any of his first novels—such as <b>Washington Square</b> that is more like a traditional novel—and then you want to try anything similar to them, please don't pick up <b>The Golden Bowl</b>.
Now, if you want to give it a go, I will be very happy to share my thoughts on the novel with you. I wholeheartedly hope this book—that is an all-time favorite for me—may fulfill your expectations, and also that you can eventually find yourself loving it.
Just for the record, I thought I would be reading <b>The Ambassadors</b> very soon, the only book of the final 'Jamesian trilogy' I haven't read thus far—I read <b>The Wings of the Dove</b> in March and I also liked it—however, I prefer to read some of his short novels and tales first, before diving into James favorite novel, probably at the end of this year or in 2023. Enough ambiguity for today. We'll see.
<b>Favorite quotes</b> (I have highlighted like 50 remarkable quotes, so I had to choose only 9 among all of them – it has been a hard decision, as you can imagine):
<i>[T]hey smiled in emulation, vaguely, as if speech failed them through their having passed too far: she would have begun to wonder the next minute if it were reserved to them, for the last stage, to find their contact, like that of old friends reunited too much on the theory of the unchanged, subject to shy lapses.
'You don’t know what it is to have been loved and broken with. You haven’t been broken with, because in your relation what can there have been worth speaking of to break? Ours was everything a relation could be, filled to the brim with the wine of consciousness; and if it was to have no meaning, no better meaning than that such a creature as you could breathe upon it, at your hour, for blight, why was I myself dealt with all for deception? why condemned after a couple of short years to find the golden flame – oh the golden flame! – a mere handful of black ashes?'
'My idea is this, that when you only love a little you’re naturally not jealous – or are only jealous also a little, so that it doesn’t matter. But when you love in a deeper and intenser way, then you’re in the very same proportion jealous; your jealousy has intensity and, no doubt, ferocity. When however you love in the most abysmal and unutterable way of all – why then you’re beyond everything, and nothing can pull you down.'
'Take it, take it, take all you need of it; arrange yourself so as to suffer least, or to be at any rate least distorted and disfigured. Only see, see that I see, and make up your mind on this new basis at your convenience. Wait – it won’t be long – till you can confer again with [her], for you’ll do it much better then, more easily to both of us. Above all don’t show me, till you’ve got it well under, the dreadful blur, the ravage of suspense and embarrassment produced, and produced by my doing, in your personal serenity, your incomparable superiority.'
'I’ve strayed away, I’ve fancied myself free, given myself in other quantities, with larger generosities, because I thought you were different – different from what I now see. But it was only, only, because I didn’t know – and you must admit that you gave me scarce reason enough. Reason enough, I mean, to keep clear of my mistake; to which I confess, for which I’ll do exquisite penance, which you can help me now, I too beautifully feel, to get completely over.'
One beautiful woman – and one beautiful fortune. That’s what a creature of pure virtue exposes herself to when she suffers her pure virtue, suffers her sympathy, her disinterestedness, her exquisite sense for the lives of others, to carry her too far.
'If I’m unhappy I’m jealous; it must come to the same thing; and with you at least I’m not afraid of the word. If I’m jealous, don’t you see? I’m tormented,’ she went on – ‘and all the more if I’m helpless. And if I’m both helpless and tormented I stuff my pocket-handkerchief into my mouth, I keep it there, for the most part, night and day, so as not to be heard too indecently moaning. Only now, with you, at last, I can’t keep it longer; I’ve pulled it out and here I am fairly screaming at you.'
She knew more and more – every lapsing minute taught her – how he might by a single rightness make her cease to watch him; that rightness, a million miles removed from the queer actual, falling so short, which would consist of his breaking out to her diviningly, indulgently, with the last happy inconsequence. ‘Come away with me somewhere, you – and then we needn’t think, we needn’t even talk, of anything, of any one else’: five words like that would answer her, would break her utterly down.
She was making an effort that horribly hurt her, and as she couldn’t cry out her eyes swam in her silence. With them, all the same, through the square opening beside her, through the grey panorama of the London night, she achieved the feat of not losing sight of what she wanted; and her lips helped and protected her by being able to be gay.</i>