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dipanjali 's review for:
The French Lieutenant's Woman
by John Fowles
This was such a goddamn trigger because of the context w/in which I was reading it that I actively began a Tumblr hashtag for it (#charlesyouasshole). Because forreal. CHARLES, YOU ASSHOLE. The invention of the Other, and the perfect Othering of Sarah in this book was specifically challenging to get through because of how true it rang. Wrt the author and wrt Charles. The male imagination necessitates the transformation of the woman-holding-on into an Ernestina, perhaps, so as to justify their perceptions and desires for the woman-to-be-pursued that is Sarah.
My proposed essay on The French Lieutenant’s Woman: A character sketch of Charles / the anatomy of a Victorian intellectual fuckboi / why men always need to justify the attractiveness of one woman at the expense of another.
Tbd: Narrative style that I thought was A++, the way Fowles creates a seamless amalgamation of multiple thought processes and points of entry. The most apt example of this is the scene where Ernestina is observing herself bashfully in the mirror and there is a comment about '...that odious prinny George the IV' and you halt for a second, perhaps, 'cause you're like, whoaaa there, Ernestina, finally showing some legitnessss. And then you realize it was the narrator-figure making a comment. Not to be confused with the author-figure or the author.
Personal favourite: Chapter 13. Introspection-retrospection-Othering-deliberate narrative obfuscation AF.
Along with Sexing the Cherry, this was my favourite, favourite, favourite read for this particular paper's syllabus texts. And you should know that I haven't chanted 'favourite' like a pre-pubescent girl who's just been introduced to the wonders of sanitary napkins with wings since... well, since never. That's just not how I ever rolled. But you get the gist. Fowles, you owe me an entire damn semester's worth of Post-It notes in various shapes and colours and sizes, but goddamn, goddamn, what a read this was. Author's own erudition unquestionable, this has to be one of the first male-written texts that I've read in the longest damn time that I not only didn't want to punch in the face but also fell quite ardently repeat-reading, repeat-analytically in love with. Which is usually rather tough a job for a Lit major, ya feel?
My proposed essay on The French Lieutenant’s Woman: A character sketch of Charles / the anatomy of a Victorian intellectual fuckboi / why men always need to justify the attractiveness of one woman at the expense of another.
Tbd: Narrative style that I thought was A++, the way Fowles creates a seamless amalgamation of multiple thought processes and points of entry. The most apt example of this is the scene where Ernestina is observing herself bashfully in the mirror and there is a comment about '...that odious prinny George the IV' and you halt for a second, perhaps, 'cause you're like, whoaaa there, Ernestina, finally showing some legitnessss. And then you realize it was the narrator-figure making a comment. Not to be confused with the author-figure or the author.
Personal favourite: Chapter 13. Introspection-retrospection-Othering-deliberate narrative obfuscation AF.
Along with Sexing the Cherry, this was my favourite, favourite, favourite read for this particular paper's syllabus texts. And you should know that I haven't chanted 'favourite' like a pre-pubescent girl who's just been introduced to the wonders of sanitary napkins with wings since... well, since never. That's just not how I ever rolled. But you get the gist. Fowles, you owe me an entire damn semester's worth of Post-It notes in various shapes and colours and sizes, but goddamn, goddamn, what a read this was. Author's own erudition unquestionable, this has to be one of the first male-written texts that I've read in the longest damn time that I not only didn't want to punch in the face but also fell quite ardently repeat-reading, repeat-analytically in love with. Which is usually rather tough a job for a Lit major, ya feel?