The Talisman Ring

Having reflected on my impetuous announcement, I have decided that perhaps a target of a book a day (plus review) is a little over-ambitious. I have joined a photography class, and I have also started the process of cleaning my room and arranging my books by author (both of which are no small tasks, I assure you. I am making an inventory of my books so as to be able to keep a miserly track of them. I have only reached number 117, and I was nowhere near done before I gave up in despair.) So should I be unable to finish a book in a day, I will still post - it will just be an ongoing process - a continuous reflection while reading. Sort of like a book journal.

I was going to (finally) read The Great Gatsby first, my curiousity pricked by Baz Luhrmann (although I haven't seen the movie yet). But I felt an even more insistent pricking by a review of The Talisman Ring by Georgette Heyer in the Captive Reader blog I mentioned in my earlier post. I have never read Georgette Heyer before. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I was absolutely delighted. I am still only about halfway through (didn't get much time today, sadly). But I have already laughed out loud several times. 

After the death of Lord Sylvester (bear with me, I am not good with the nobility, so I shall be conveniently vague on details), Eustacie (half-french) is engaged to Lord Tristram (a nephew, I think) by Lord Sylvester's last wishes. The actual heir, Ludovic, fled the country after being involved in gambling and (allegedly) a murder involving the possession of a priced heirloom - the talisman ring. Nearly everybody is convinced of his guilt, and Tristram helps him flee. Eustacie, however, considers him the only 'romantic' figure in her family. Very soon, Eustacie and Tristram realize that they do not suit each other at all, and Eustacie decides to run away and become a governess. She unexpectedly stumbles upon Ludovic, who is now a smuggler, and becomes almost instantly convinced of his innocence. She is unable to go through with her plans, and goes with Ludovic to an inn (after a thrilling chase in which Ludovic is shot in the shoulder). There, the ruckus attracts the attention of one miss Sarah Thane, who has stopped, with her brother Hugh, at the inn for the night. Sarah becomes instantly and inextricably involved in the 'adventure.' Tristram arrives at the inn the next day, demanding to know if Eustacie is there. He finds her and Ludovic (after they manage to fob off a policeman who comes looking for Ludovic), and not finding the ring in his possession, also becomes convinced of his innocence. That is as far as I have got.

I love Tristram and I adore Eustacie. As for Sarah Thane, I think it is marvelous how she is 'romantic' enough to suit Eustacie and 'sensible' enough to talk to Tristram. This sentence, said to Eustacie, I found absolutely priceless:
"At all events there seems to be some doubt about Sir Tristram's guilt. I think, if I were you, I would not marry him until we can be positive he is the murderer."
Taken out of context, how that sounds! But that is only one of many gems. The minute Eustacie opens her mouth, you can be sure you'll laugh. Tristram's reactions are almost more priceless (if something can be 'more priceless').

'Eustacie drew a deep breath. "I see that I have misjudged you, Cousin Tristram," she said handsomely. "One must make reparation, enfin. I will marry you."

"Thank you," said Sir Tristram, "but the matter does not call for such a sacrifice as that, I assure you." 

He saw a certain raptness steal into her eyes, and added: "Don't waste time picturing yourself in the role of a martyred bride, I beg of you! I haven't the smallest desire to marry you." '

So far, I have enjoyed every sentence. And finding a romance novel that is not utterly predictable and capable of humour apart from the usual, cliched, 'romantic banter,' is very refreshing. I look forward to reading the rest of the book, and more books by Heyer as well.

Charlotte Bronte on Jane Austen

Addendum 11th June 2015: I later changed my opinion - refer to this blog post - Hello again!

Hello everyone who does me the favour of reading this blog (if there is anyone),

I have decided on a project to fill my summer vacation days. Inspired by this beautiful blog: http://thecaptivereader.wordpress.com/, I have decided to review a book a day. However, they shan't be new books; they will all be from my bookcase. There are many tragically unopened books on my shelves, and I intend to get cracking. I also intend to review many favourites (or, if 'reviewing' some classic greats seems too presumptuous, I shall merely write my reflections on them).

Before I get started, however, I want to talk about something I came across quite recently. I learnt that Charlotte Bronte disliked Jane Austen - in fact she was very vehement in her criticism :

"Anything like warmth or enthusiasm, anything energetic, poignant, heartfelt, is utterly out of place in commending these works: all such demonstrations the authoress would have met with a well-bred sneer, would have calmly scorned as outré or extravagant. She does her business of delineating the surface of the lives of genteel English people curiously well. There is a Chinese fidelity, a miniature delicacy, in the painting. She ruffles her reader by nothing vehement, disturbs him with nothing profound. The passions are perfectly unknown to her: she rejects even a speaking acquaintance with that stormy sisterhood ... What sees keenly, speaks aptly, moves flexibly, it suits her to study: but what throbs fast and full, though hidden, what the blood rushes through, what is the unseen seat of life and the sentient target of death--this Miss Austen ignores....Jane Austen was a complete and most sensible lady, but a very incomplete and rather insensible (not senseless - woman), if this is heresy--I cannot help it."

(Source:http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/english/melani/novel_19c/austen/)

I was absolutely astonished and a little bemused when I came across this. I have never thought of Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austen in the same train of thought - they are so radically different in style that it never occurred to me to compare them. Had it, however, occurred to me do so, I have no doubt that I would have, without hesitation, concluded that Austen is far and away the superior. Austen's wit, humour, beautiful prose and  her 'normal,' yet so remarkably memorable characters - are unrivalled, in my opinion, not just by Bronte, but by any other author I have read. I have to admit that I have read only Jane Eyre by Bronte. But if this is indicative of her style and talent, why, then, they are, simply, not on the same plane. This is not to say that I dislike Jane Eyre; I like it well enough. But it has never been one of my favourites, and it has never filled me with awe at its mastery, or delight at the wit that I missed when I was younger. While reading Jane Eyre, one is quite carried away by the passion and emotion of it all. But, when one stops to reflect – what is there in Jane Eyre? I suppose Jane Eyre is very likeable; and for some mysterious reason Mr.Rochester captures the imagination of many girls, too – despite being rough, unprincipled (don’t tell me that you can justify his trying to marry Jane despite his already being married, because I think his reasoning there is twisted – ‘eccentric,’ Jane would say – and quite unsupported) and quite heavy-handed in his pursuit of Jane. But the plot, I think, is quite unremarkable, despite all the drama. And, while it is supposed to defy many conventions, it espouses many others. There is hardly any humour in Jane Eyre – or if there is, I have missed it – and when you actually think about it, this wild passion between two people of such different ages (Mr. Rochester is actually old enough to be her father) is slightly disturbing. Emma and Mr. Knightley are of different ages too, but there hardly seems to be anything ‘wild’ about their love, and I find their affection a lot more palatable. Mr.Rochester and Jane don’t ever seem to converse without undertones of something.  And when they disagree, it is on an issue of great moment, and Jane is about to be very heroic and sacrifice her love for principle and duty. Despite Bronte’s evident opinion that Austen’s works are bloodless, Austen’s characters seem somehow so much more real. They aren’t heavily dramatized or heroic – Mr. Knightley is noble, as is Mr. Darcy, but not so noble as to be un-relatable or unlikeable. And I heavily disagree with the opinion that there is no passion or poignancy in Austen’s works. These elements are simply far more subtle and understated in her books. Who could possibly say that Knightley or Darcy have no passion for their respective lady-loves? It is also incomprehensible to me that Bronte could fail so thoroughly to see the beauty of Austen’s seeming un-sentimentality, and the uniqueness and humour this lends her writing. Bronte’s characters take themselves so very seriously. Bronte’s tragic situations are unrelieved by any sensible, objective viewpoint. I can be engrossed in Bronte, but never delighted or surprised. Austen, to me, is an artist beyond compare; Bronte is a wonderful writer, but flawed, overly emotional (it seems to me) and definitely without the wit to match Austen’s genius.