I'm trying on Trollope. I know, I know: you'll alert the media. But so few people delve into literature these days, I thought it worth mentioning.
I'm reasonably well-read in modern literature (20th century lit) and I've dabbled significantly in 17th and 18th century literature. However, I'm woefully lacking when it comes to the 19th century novel. Ironic, given that many of my favorite works come from that period, including New Grub Street, The Woman in White, A Tale of Two Cities, Dracula (yes, Dracula), Frankenstein, and the entire Sherlock Holmes canon.
The list of great 19th century novels I have not read is quite embarrassing.
So I am wading into Anthony Trollope, beginning with the first novel in the Chronicles of Barsetshire series, The Warden.
Not regarded as one of Trollope's quintessential novels (many people skip the warden and go straight to the second book in the series, Barchester Towers) The Warden starts a bit slow, but I was soon awash in the literary gold mine that is the Trollope novel. In other words, inside of fifty pages I could see what all the fuss was about.
The basic plot is pretty simple: Septimus Harding is the "warden" of a home for twelve men whose care and feeding has been provided for by the generosity of a long-dead benefactor. While the twelve men are sufficiently cared for, the lion's share of the money goes to the warden, about 800 pounds a year. An enthusiastic reformer (is there any other kind?), John Bold, sets out to change the distribution of the bequest, feeling that the twelve men are being cheated. He does this with the vigor of the righteous, despite his being involved romantically with Harding's daughter, Eleneanor.
Many Trollope fans prefer the Palliser novels, or The Way We Live Now, because these novels deal with larger social issues as well as the interpersonal dynamics. But I find The Warden enchanting precisely because the stakes are so low, at least from our vantage point. If such as thing as Harding's dilemma were happening today in New Zealand, it is doubtful that the rest of the world would hear about it. And assuming it made the BBC or The Drudge Report, few would care. And therein lies the charm.
In our time we see Islamic Jihad, global warming, Antisemitism, and child murder dominate our troubled landscape. Trollope's little village, despite the often vicious social and political maneuvering, seems quaint by comparison. If this were a Thomas Hardy novel, the atmosphere would be suffocating, and we would be tempted to cry out to our favorite character, "Run away! Get the hell out of there!" But this is
Trollope, and we are encouraged to stay in the village come what may.
And so I will continue reading The Warden, ignoring the Siren's song of flashier novels, reality TV, and (gag) the nightly news.
One particularly interesting contrast arises from my choosing the Modern Library edition of this book: the introduction by Louis Auchingloss contains some unintended hilarity when contrasted to Trollope's own views, as expressed in the novel.
More on that later.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
6 comments:
Watching the PBS version of the series might enhance your enjoyment. Donald Pleasance is a delight as the warden, and Susan Hampshire as Mme. Vesey-Neron steals every scene she is in. It's a treat to see Alan Rickman as a handsome young cleric, too. It was this adaptation that introduced me to Trollope some 25+ years ago, and I have been reading him ever since. Enjoy!
Thank you, Kilian. I thought I would read The Warden and Barchester Towers, then watch the adaptation. Your assessment of the PBS version is consistent with what I've heard many times over the years.
I'm trying to be good and read the book first. We librarians are always telling people that book-then-movie is right and meet, but I'll definitely take your advise.
The adaptation is very faithful to the books and gives a good overall summary of the plot. Then one can read the books and get all the little pleasures of spending time with a very observant author. To me one of his great virtues is his deep understanding and empathy for women. Mrs Proude and Mme Vesey-Neroni are two of the saddest, unhappiest women in literature, and he treats them very gently.
Your point is well-taken, Kilian. The old saw about reading the book first is perhaps best taught to young children, in order that the movie will not spoil the child's imagination when she reads the book. But is this really necessary for literate adults? As you say, having taken lay of the land, so to speak, with the adaptation, one would then be free to savor the details that inevitably get lost in translation from book to screen. An excellent point. You have shot my dogma.
I'm fairly ravenous when it comes to British TV and movies, so any good reason to jump right into this long-neglected adaption is most welcome.
Now if you would just give me permission to consume salt, red meat, and single malt scotch I could be truly content!
Part of the reason why watching the adaptation first won't spoil anything is that plotting is not Trollope's strong suit. Sometimes he even tell the outcome at the beginning so as not to leave the reader in suspense. With no worries about spoiling a surprise, watching an adaptation or even reading a summary will not lessen the enjoyment of watching the characters interact and develop.
As far as the salt, red meat, and scotch - well, the first two are optional, but the third is a sacrament when taken in moderate amounts with the respectful awe, purity of intent and ritual cleansing appropriate to a holy act. I'm a Macallanian myself, but I don't quarrell with the Glenfiddichers. It's them Laphraoighites that are hell-bound heretics and to be avoided at all costs. There are lesser sects, also within the fold, but in no case are you to mingle with those who imbibe blends. They are an abomination unto the Most High.
I concur on the Macallen; it is the closest thing to a religious experience I've found. Same with Glenfiddich, though I've only had that in a hotel, and the price of the drink may have interfered with my enjoyment somewhat.
I also enjoy Balvenie and Dalwhinnie, though they are second-tier. Have never gotten used to the Balvenie that is finished in the port casks, however, but it is certainly an interesting diversion from the usual single malts.
And yes, a bottle of blended scotch is fit only for a molotov cocktail, and even then only if the intended victim is completely without taste.
My wife has just walked into the room and asked me to clean her gun. What an interesting juxtaposition. After that I must take the kids to see the in laws, where there will be no scotch, and coffee so bad you couldn't serve it to death row inmates without violating their civil rights.
Hope your next few days taste better!
Post a Comment