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A review by julia_may
Dr. Thorne by Anthony Trollope
3.0
What is a classic but a book written back in the days before editors were a standard feature of the publishing process and sexism ran unchecked? This book was a bit of a journey for me, but not in an altogether pleasant or expected way. I'd seen and liked the TV show, plus Trollope is known for being entertaining and not soul-crushingly depressing like a lot of Victorians and apparently also had a reputation for writing women in a progressive manner, for his time. I was therefore expecting to like it and have fun. That's not exactly what happened.
As entertaining as this book is (which is mildly), if I hadn't seen the TV show first and known where this was all heading and how the characters were connected, I probably would've DNFed this at about the halfway mark. There's a lot of waffle here. Anthony, dear, were you getting paid by the word count, like Dickens? Or did you just get sick of Frank like I did and hand in your first draft?
The TV show is a 90% accurate re-telling of the book, and the other 10% is not worth bothering about. If, like me, you've seen and liked the show and think that you will get an enhanced experience from reading the book, I am here to tell you that... by all means, give it a shot, but I very much doubt it. I certainly didn't. The show script writers did a brilliant job of removing filler and revising cringeworthy outdated elements.
Also, don't head here for the romance - it is lukewarm at best, which is no surprise given that Frank Gresham is an absolute muppet and Mary Thorne's middle name is probably Sue. And they barely see each other for most of the book because Frank's mother Lady Arabella is a witch with a capital B. Maybe it was misguided of me to expect a middle aged civil servant to write a semi-decent romantic story.
The fabulous Miss Dunstable would more than make up for Gutless Wonder Boy Frank if only we'd see more of her. Miss Dunstable has 200,000 pounds and zero fucks to give about all the society ladies who throw their worthless unmarried sons her way (*cough*Frank*cough*). Even Lady Arabella, an obnoxious cow that she is, is at least entertaining. And OK, I feel a bit sorry for her. Imagine marrying someone (by arrangement, no less - not out of wild passionate love!) who you thought was ambitious and going places, only to find that he is a nincompoop who's wasted away the fortune and mortgaged everything you own and he won't even tell you the true state of your family finances. Oh, he'll talk about it to the neighbourly doctor who's not even a businessperson or a family member, but he won't tell you shit, and you can't even really do anything about it. There's no Avon to sell in Victorian England, nor sex toy parties to hold at Greshamsbury Park (though lord knows, a few of them would've benefited... the crusty Lady de Courcy in particular. Her marriage obviously had serious problems. As my Russian literature teacher used to say when she'd hand back essays that had received below average marks - "Problems. Big, BIG problems.")
I am well aware of the issues regarding women's rights or lack thereof in Victorian times, and I was braced for it, but the sexism of the ending took me by surprise and I hated the last two chapters. It's hard to spoil a classic, but just in case - SPOILERS AHEAD.
So, Mary (Sue) Thorne unexpectedly (for her) inherits vast, vast, wealth. We are told that it's more than what Miss Dunstable has, and she has the equivalent of 25m pounds in today's money, so Mary inherited close to 35 million USD, by my reckoning - at least! The person who is the legal guardian of the freshly-deceased and also the executor of the will, the person who has the obligation to inform Mary of this - HER FUCKING UNCLE WHO LOVES HER - he DOES NOT tell her this as soon he's had it confirmed by lawyers, oh no. He makes her wait to the following day when all she knows is that her muppet fiancé Frank and his financially-challenged father Frank Senior are coming over for an important discussion. Then this apparently well intentioned uncle, Dr Thorne, makes Mary wait in a separate room while he tells Mary's fiancé and her future father-in-law that - surprise! - she is now an heiress. Then he suggests that Frank the fiancé breaks the good news to Mary. What an ass. At least Frank has the decency to refuse and makes Dr Thorne do it.
Here's the message I got from this - a woman's fortune is only important in so far as it gets her a husband, and her future husband has more of a right to know about her finances and than she does. The future husband's interests take priority over the woman's own right to know about her own legal rights and resources. Yeah, yeah, Victorian times, Olden Days, blah blah. I know. I am still angry though because we are told ad nauseum how much Dr Thorne loves his niece and would do anything for her, anything to ensure that she has a good future. And then he pretty much goes and denies agency to Mary. This shit was handled better in the TV show.
So here's the ending I would've preferred. Mary realises that Frank is a worthless muppet with no skills, no talents, no personality to speak of (growing a beard is not a personality trait), no interests outside of hunting and buying horses, no ambitions, no particular signs of humour or intelligence... Mary dumps him and joins forces with the formidable Miss Dunstable, and they live together somewhere in the Mediterranean (lesbian love optional but I'm all for it - let them have all the hot lesbian sex they desire, they surely deserve it after dealing with the likes of Frank), travelling the world together and putting their humongous fortunes to good philanthropic and entrepreneurial use, instead for propping up the decimated fortunes of the pointless Greshams, de Courcys et al.
Which brings me to my final point. This book made me question whether I should be reading the classics. Remove the snobbery aspect and classics are just books written a long time ago, by long-dead people who used different stylistic and language choices to the modern norm, did not use editors, and reflected the opinions of their time. I don't know that I want to have to brace myself for inevitable racism, sexism, ableism and all the other discriminatory isms in every classic book I pick up. I read for enjoyment and I have never had strong positive emotions about a classic. The characters I want to read about are either missing in those books or are frustratingly minor. I've even googled "why we should read classics" and there are some compelling reasons, but I think it will be a while until I touch this "genre" again.
As entertaining as this book is (which is mildly), if I hadn't seen the TV show first and known where this was all heading and how the characters were connected, I probably would've DNFed this at about the halfway mark. There's a lot of waffle here. Anthony, dear, were you getting paid by the word count, like Dickens? Or did you just get sick of Frank like I did and hand in your first draft?
The TV show is a 90% accurate re-telling of the book, and the other 10% is not worth bothering about. If, like me, you've seen and liked the show and think that you will get an enhanced experience from reading the book, I am here to tell you that... by all means, give it a shot, but I very much doubt it. I certainly didn't. The show script writers did a brilliant job of removing filler and revising cringeworthy outdated elements.
Also, don't head here for the romance - it is lukewarm at best, which is no surprise given that Frank Gresham is an absolute muppet and Mary Thorne's middle name is probably Sue. And they barely see each other for most of the book because Frank's mother Lady Arabella is a witch with a capital B. Maybe it was misguided of me to expect a middle aged civil servant to write a semi-decent romantic story.
The fabulous Miss Dunstable would more than make up for Gutless Wonder Boy Frank if only we'd see more of her. Miss Dunstable has 200,000 pounds and zero fucks to give about all the society ladies who throw their worthless unmarried sons her way (*cough*Frank*cough*). Even Lady Arabella, an obnoxious cow that she is, is at least entertaining. And OK, I feel a bit sorry for her. Imagine marrying someone (by arrangement, no less - not out of wild passionate love!) who you thought was ambitious and going places, only to find that he is a nincompoop who's wasted away the fortune and mortgaged everything you own and he won't even tell you the true state of your family finances. Oh, he'll talk about it to the neighbourly doctor who's not even a businessperson or a family member, but he won't tell you shit, and you can't even really do anything about it. There's no Avon to sell in Victorian England, nor sex toy parties to hold at Greshamsbury Park (though lord knows, a few of them would've benefited... the crusty Lady de Courcy in particular. Her marriage obviously had serious problems. As my Russian literature teacher used to say when she'd hand back essays that had received below average marks - "Problems. Big, BIG problems.")
I am well aware of the issues regarding women's rights or lack thereof in Victorian times, and I was braced for it, but the sexism of the ending took me by surprise and I hated the last two chapters. It's hard to spoil a classic, but just in case - SPOILERS AHEAD.
So, Mary (Sue) Thorne unexpectedly (for her) inherits vast, vast, wealth. We are told that it's more than what Miss Dunstable has, and she has the equivalent of 25m pounds in today's money, so Mary inherited close to 35 million USD, by my reckoning - at least! The person who is the legal guardian of the freshly-deceased and also the executor of the will, the person who has the obligation to inform Mary of this - HER FUCKING UNCLE WHO LOVES HER - he DOES NOT tell her this as soon he's had it confirmed by lawyers, oh no. He makes her wait to the following day when all she knows is that her muppet fiancé Frank and his financially-challenged father Frank Senior are coming over for an important discussion. Then this apparently well intentioned uncle, Dr Thorne, makes Mary wait in a separate room while he tells Mary's fiancé and her future father-in-law that - surprise! - she is now an heiress. Then he suggests that Frank the fiancé breaks the good news to Mary. What an ass. At least Frank has the decency to refuse and makes Dr Thorne do it.
Here's the message I got from this - a woman's fortune is only important in so far as it gets her a husband, and her future husband has more of a right to know about her finances and than she does. The future husband's interests take priority over the woman's own right to know about her own legal rights and resources. Yeah, yeah, Victorian times, Olden Days, blah blah. I know. I am still angry though because we are told ad nauseum how much Dr Thorne loves his niece and would do anything for her, anything to ensure that she has a good future. And then he pretty much goes and denies agency to Mary. This shit was handled better in the TV show.
So here's the ending I would've preferred. Mary realises that Frank is a worthless muppet with no skills, no talents, no personality to speak of (growing a beard is not a personality trait), no interests outside of hunting and buying horses, no ambitions, no particular signs of humour or intelligence... Mary dumps him and joins forces with the formidable Miss Dunstable, and they live together somewhere in the Mediterranean (lesbian love optional but I'm all for it - let them have all the hot lesbian sex they desire, they surely deserve it after dealing with the likes of Frank), travelling the world together and putting their humongous fortunes to good philanthropic and entrepreneurial use, instead for propping up the decimated fortunes of the pointless Greshams, de Courcys et al.
Which brings me to my final point. This book made me question whether I should be reading the classics. Remove the snobbery aspect and classics are just books written a long time ago, by long-dead people who used different stylistic and language choices to the modern norm, did not use editors, and reflected the opinions of their time. I don't know that I want to have to brace myself for inevitable racism, sexism, ableism and all the other discriminatory isms in every classic book I pick up. I read for enjoyment and I have never had strong positive emotions about a classic. The characters I want to read about are either missing in those books or are frustratingly minor. I've even googled "why we should read classics" and there are some compelling reasons, but I think it will be a while until I touch this "genre" again.