February '10 Reading: Villette by Charlotte Bronte

[Scheherazade]

however, some of the chapters are read by men; most are read by women.

Most characters introduced are women?

I could also read the chapters and then next day review them by listening to the narration.

I admire your dedication, Janine!

[LitNetIsGreat]

Agreed.

What do you think of Isidore? Just started that chapter... Is he the guy who guided Lucy on her first night there?

I'd have to recap as most of my brain cells are devoted to Belgian beer, I'll get back to the question when I can.

[Dark Muse]

Yes it is has everything to do with her class - only the middle/higher orders would be chaperoned. It is however, still quite a bold venture in the same way that Jane Eyre ventured forth quite independently into the world. Of course the trip to London is one thing, the trip further afield is quite another too, quite brave.

I wonder what the Bronte's own social standing was, as it seems all of them deal with characters on the lower rungs of the social ladder, and often women whom are left to their own devices and are outside of the typical conventions of society in someway.

Agreed.

What do you think of Isidore? Just started that chapter... Is he the guy who guided Lucy on her first night there?

I haven't got there yet so I will get back to you on that.

[Scheherazade]

I haven't got there yet so I will get back to you on that.

Whooohoooo!!!

You guys mean to tell me that I am ahead of everyone else???

Wow! Go me!!!!

[LitNetIsGreat]

I wonder what the Bronte's own social standing was, as it seems all of them deal with characters on the lower rungs of the social ladder, and often women whom are left to their own devices and are outside of the typical conventions of society in someway

At about the same level. The Brontes lived in Haworth (about 40 miles from where I live actually) in a vicarage within the same class range that she and Emily (and Anne) wrote about. In a similar way to Austen, they wrote about the class they knew well and not that much above or below it in all reality.

http://www.haworth-village.org.uk/

You guys mean to tell me that I am ahead of everyone else???

Nay. I am more than halfway through the novel, though I left it aside about six months ago (or so) and need to go back to it and refresh a little.

[Jazz_]

Haven't started yet - trying to decide between library or e-book...

Will start soon either way though

Just checked library catalogue - they only have the recording available Looks like online version for me

[Janine]

Most characters introduced are women?I admire your dedication, Janine!

hahah...sure thing...it sounded good in print...let's see just how dedicated I am when the book is finished. I am still stuck on listening up to chapter 2...

Scher, A few of the readers are men...that is what I meant. I am not sure what your question is.

[L.M. The Third]

I read it back in April 09, and I'm not sure if I want to read it all through again at present, but you've got me interested enough to pull out my copy and I'll be hanging around.

(A very ignorant question) But does anyone know if the 't's in "Vilette" are supposed to be left off when you say it? It is a French word, right?

[Quark]

LOL and it is probably because of her detachment that I am so drawn to her and that I like her so much. I could not help feeling sorry for her when she was stuck in Mrs. Breton's house with Polly and Graham and the way they carried on with each other.

I don't know if detachment is necessarily an attractive quality, but I do like the slightly sarcastic, slightly compassionate way she regards Polly and Graham. I don't think I could take her seriously if she were either completely dismissive of it or completely emotionally involved.

It's odd that she has so little to do in these opening chapters, though. This is quite a different heroine from the fiery, self-willed Jane Eyre who fights her way through the introductory chapters of her novel. Lucy seems to be able to only define herself through contradistinction to others. If everyone else is emotional, she is calm. If the city is crafty, she is simple. Even when she makes big decisions, it's not presented as though it were representative of her in any way. Instead, it's presented as though it were just necessity that were pushing her along. It's an odd way to build a heroine.

But does anyone know if the 't's in "Vilette" are supposed to be left off when you say it? It is a French word, right?

I think it should be pronounced Vee' yet, but in the US it's routinely called Vil let.

[Dark Muse]

I don't know if detachment is necessarily an attractive quality, but I do like the slightly sarcastic, slightly compassionate way she regards Polly and Graham. I don't think I could take her seriously if she were either completely dismissive of it or completely emotionally involved.

It's odd that she has so little to do in these opening chapters, though. This is quite a different heroine from the fiery, self-willed Jane Eyre who fights her way through the introductory chapters of her novel. Lucy seems to be able to only define herself through contradistinction to others. If everyone else is emotional, she is calm. If the city is crafty, she is simple. Even when she makes big decisions, it's not presented as though it were representative of her in any way. Instead, it's presented as though it were just necessity that were pushing her along. It's an odd way to build a heroine.

Detachment is something that appeals to me in its own way. I have a tendency to find it an attractive characteristic. Perhaps because I can relate to it, being I am not all that socially interactive.

It is interesting that way in which she is constructed within the story. It reminds me of something someone else said to me. In another discussion for The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, another Bronte book, someone said they had a teacher who criticized the Bronte's because they wrote in a way that was too "masculine" Because of their rather direct and no nonsense approach. I think that can be seen here with Lucy and the way she tell the story as well as the way she reflects upon herself and her situation. She doesn't bring a lot of emotion into the things that happen to her, or the choices she makes.

She looks the situation in the eye, and simply acts as she feels is necessary. She takes things in stride as they come in a very head on, direct sort of way.

I also find it interesting how in contrast to the fact that it seems she is guided more by this sense or rational necessity rather than letting herself be led by her emotions, is the way in which she does seem to be guided by fate in some way, or she seems to believe she is being led by Providence. There is more than one occasion in which she refers to hearing some voice within her, which particularly seems to appear when a favorable situation is presented to her.

She refers to this inner voice both when she acquired her situation with Miss Marchmont and than Madame Beck. In way it is as if she doesn't give herself credit for her own actions and choices.

[Janine]

It's a little uncanny, but from my first reading of this book's beginning chapters, I have had a sense that the heroine is presented similiarly to the heroine in the book by Charlotte's sister, Anne Bronte - "Agnes Gray". It might be that I see the similarity in the quiet, solitary demeaner of Lucy and she is much like Agnes in her independent way of going out in the world on her own. I have not gotten very far but I read somewhere - perhaps on the back of my book jacket - that this book was written after the death of Charlotte's two sisters, at a time she was trying to come to terms with her own family loss and grief. In some sense the tone of the book would make more sense to me now considering the mood that Charlotte may have been in while writing the book.

I just thought I would throw that out there for now. As I said, I really haven't gotten any further with my reading. I was feeling well last night and could not progress. Maybe tonight I can get in a few more chapters.

[Quark]

I think that can be seen here with Lucy and the way she tell the story as well as the way she reflects upon herself and her situation. She doesn't bring a lot of emotion into the things that happen to her, or the choices she makes.

You're right that she doesn't bring a lot emotion to her life, but, at the same time, she doesn't bring a lot of volition or self-reflection to it either. The narrator to these opening chapters is certainly not feminine, but nor is it masculine. It's rather blank. Lucy places her attention on others rather than herself, which is rather odd for the start of a bildungsroman. Even self-effacing narrators like Ester Summerson in Bleak House start their novels by centering on themselves. Villette, though, starts with Polly and London. Lucy defines herself in opposition to these more solid entities.

She refers to this inner voice both when she acquired her situation with Miss Marchmont and than Madame Beck. In way it is as if she doesn't give herself credit for her own actions and choices.

I think that scene has a lot to do with the Romantic notion of personality, which claims that our identity is buried deep within ourselves and can only be gradually unfolded. Lucy goes out alone and sees a reflection of that personality in nature. This idea of self is a little different from our contemporary understanding of what it means to be a person. Today, we tend to view ourselves in terms of behavior and decisions, but nineteenth-century Romanticism took our day-to-day choices and actions as perversions of our inner personality. To discover that personality, one had to go out alone into nature like Lucy does in this scene. I wouldn't say, then, that she doesn't give herself any credit for her actions here. In fact, I might say that this is closest she gets to actually defining herself as a character. Here, we learn how she views herself--in a rather Romantic way, as it turns out. Yet this is a brief scene. Most of these first chapters--as I have been saying--is about other characters. What's happening to these other characters will eventually have something to do with her life. In many ways, these first scene are ominous foreboding of what's to come. But, nonetheless, they don't really say anything directly about Lucy.

I have had a sense that the heroine is presented similiarly to the heroine in the book by Charlotte's sister, Anne Bronte - "Agnes Gray".

Oh, it's been so long since I've looked at that one.

In some sense the tone of the book would make more sense to me now considering the mood that Charlotte may have been in while writing the book.

That's interesting. I hadn't really thought of the biographical angle, but there probably are some echoes of what's going on in Charlotte's life in the novel.


Oh, and everyone should go vote for Under the Greenwood Tree in the Valentine's Day Poll: http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=50489 Just a couple more votes and we should win!

[grace86]

I just managed to start reading this online. Funny though, Janine, I'd been curious just yesterday and today about audio books online, and it so happens you mention a site...I'll try it out!

[Mayfly]

How do I join this forum? I'm plowing through the book as fast as I can.

[Dark Muse]

You're right that she doesn't bring a lot emotion to her life, but, at the same time, she doesn't bring a lot of volition or self-reflection to it either. The narrator to these opening chapters is certainly not feminine, but nor is it masculine. It's rather blank. Lucy places her attention on others rather than herself, which is rather odd for the start of a bildungsroman. Even self-effacing narrators like Ester Summerson in Bleak House start their novels by centering on themselves. Villette, though, starts with Polly and London. Lucy defines herself in opposition to these more solid entities.

I have to say, I think that Lucy not showing much emotion becomes more understandable after reading the chapter about Madame Beck, who does act as a sort of role model to Lucy, and I found particuarly interesting these passage in which Lucy is decribing her:

I have seen her _feelings_
appealed to, and I have smiled in half-pity, half-scorn at the
appellants. None ever gained her ear through that channel, or swayed
her purpose by that means. On the contrary, to attempt to touch her
heart was the surest way to rouse her antipathy, and to make of her a
secret foe. It proved to her that she had no heart to be touched: it
reminded her where she was impotent and dead. Never was the
distinction between charity and mercy better exemplified than in her.
While devoid of sympathy, she had a sufficiency of rational
benevolence: she would give in the readiest manner to people she had
never seen--rather, however, to classes than to individuals. "Pour les
pauvres," she opened her purse freely--against _the poor man_, as
a rule, she kept it closed. In philanthropic schemes for the benefit
of society at large she took a cheerful part; no private sorrow
touched her: no force or mass of suffering concentrated in one heart
had power to pierce hers. Not the agony in Gethsemane, not the death
on Calvary, could have wrung from her eyes one tear.

I say again, Madame was a very great and a very capable woman. That
school offered her for her powers too limited a sphere; she ought to
have swayed a nation: she should have been the leader of a turbulent
legislative assembly. Nobody could have browbeaten her, none irritated
her nerves, exhausted her patience, or over-reached her astuteness. In
her own single person, she could have comprised the duties of a first
minister and a superintendent of police. Wise, firm, faithless;
secret, crafty, passionless; watchful and inscrutable; acute and
insensate--withal perfectly decorous--what more could be desired?

Lucy has a great admiration for Madame Beck whom is portrayed as a woman who does not let her own emotions get in the way of her judgement. She is seen as a woman who can be generous and good, and yet in a way that is completely rationalized.

Lucy believes her strong for the very reason that she won't allow her emotions to be appealed to, or to rule her decision for her. And when Madame Beck requests Lucy to take over the teaching of the class, the very thing that gives Lucy the courage to do it is the fact that Madame Beck does not offer her sympathy or emphasize with her, but instead demands of her resolute strength. She expects Lucy to take command of herself, and not have to be led by the hand.

And regarding the fact that Lucy seems to define herself only in her opposition to others around her, we have to remember she is still quite young, not even 20 yet, and never really had the luxury of being able to try and define who she is as an individual, she is at an age, being still a teenager when most people are still in the process of trying to figure out who they are, and she is thrust in the position of having to go out and find the means to support herself without the benefit of often having the company of others her own age. So I think considering her age and her circumstances it is natural that she is seeing herself through others, and does not yet have a solid idea of who she truly is as an individual.