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The Way We Live Now
Considered by contemporary critics to be Trollope's greatest novel, The Way We Live Now is a satire of the literary world of nineteenth-century London and a bold indictment of the new power of speculative finance in English life. The story concerns Augustus Melmotte, a French swindler and scoundrel, and his daughter, to whom Felix Carbury, adored son of the authoress Lady Carbury, is induced to propose marriage for the sake of securing a fortune. Trollope's portrait of Lady Carbury, impetuous, unprincipled, and unswervingly devoted to her own self-promotion, is one of his finest satirical achievements. In his kaleidoscopic depiction of a society on the verge of moral bankruptcy, Trollope gives us life as it was lived more than a hundred years ago, while speaking eloquently to some of the governing obsessions of our own age.
776 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1875
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About the author
Anthony Trollope
2,120 books1,688 followersAnthony Trollope became one of the most successful, prolific and respected English novelists of the Victorian era. Some of Trollope's best-loved works, known as the Chronicles of Barsetshire, revolve around the imaginary county of Barsetshire; he also wrote penetrating novels on political, social, and gender issues and conflicts of his day.
Trollope has always been a popular novelist. Noted fans have included Sir Alec Guinness (who never travelled without a Trollope novel), former British Prime Ministers Harold Macmillan and Sir John Major, economist John Kenneth Galbraith, American novelists Sue Grafton and Dominick Dunne and soap opera writer Harding Lemay. Trollope's literary reputation dipped somewhat during the last years of his life, but he regained the esteem of critics by the mid-twentieth century.
See also http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthony_...
Trollope has always been a popular novelist. Noted fans have included Sir Alec Guinness (who never travelled without a Trollope novel), former British Prime Ministers Harold Macmillan and Sir John Major, economist John Kenneth Galbraith, American novelists Sue Grafton and Dominick Dunne and soap opera writer Harding Lemay. Trollope's literary reputation dipped somewhat during the last years of his life, but he regained the esteem of critics by the mid-twentieth century.
See also http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anthony_...
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August 7, 2019
”There are a thousand little silly softnesses which are pretty and endearing between acknowledged lovers, with which no woman would like to dispense, to which even men who are in love submit sometimes with delight; but which in other circumstances would be vulgar,— and to the woman distasteful. There are closenesses and sweet approaches, smiles and nods and pleasant winkings, whispers, innuendoes and hints, little mutual admirations and assurances that there are things known to those two happy ones of which the world beyond is altogether ignorant. Much of this comes of nature, but something of it sometimes comes by art.”
Anthony Trollope
Anthony Trollope wrote this satirical novel as a reaction to the financial scandals of the 1870s in Great Britain. His character Augustus Melmotte, a man of uncertain religious affiliation, and even more uncertain nationality arrives in London. There is just the whiff of scandal nipping at his heels from the continent, but along with those rumors also come rumblings of his great wealth. The Lords and Baronets of London are in need of some cash and when Melmotte sets up a company selling shares in a railroad to be built across Mexico they feel this is an opportunity for them to reach solvency. After all Melmotte seems to understand these financial matters and the Lords are only interested in profit not in comprehending exactly how something as vulgar as commerce works.
Melmotte is not a gentleman, but he moves in the world of gentlemen. He is snubbed by some for not being of the proper set, but as he insnares more and more of the men of society into his dealings he begins to demand entry into the social events that normally he would be excluded from. Lord Nidderdale, one of those caught in the Melmotte web, knows all is not what it seems, but he can’t quite believe that such a thing could really be happening in his world.
”That men should be thoroughly immoral, that they should gamble, get drunk, run into debt, and make love to other men's wives, was to him a matter of everyday life. Nothing of that kind shocked him at all. But he was not as yet quite old enough to believe in swindling.”
Charles Ponzi, the man who leveraged greed.
Greed will always create opportunity for schemers and since I don’t ever see greed disappearing from our collective nature, schemes will continue to work. By the way Ponzi (1920s) may have been the most famous of financial deceivers, but long before he was formulating his plan to bilk rich people Charles Dickens talked about this type of deception in his novel Martin Chuzzelwit (1844). Melmotte finds that London is full of desperate Lords who have mortgaged their estates to keep up appearances and that ready cash is becoming as precious to them as their titles.
”Rank squanders money; trade makes it;— and then trade purchases rank by re-gilding its splendour.”
And that is exactly Melmotte’s plan for he has a daughter, Marie. He wants to see her married to Lord Nidderdale. If not Nidderdale than another. He is pretty sure he can buy one.
Marie has other plans. She doesn’t want to marry a Lord, but a Baronet, specifically Sir Felix Carbury. Now a Baronet is a step down from a Lord, but not a horrible situation if he weren’t a ne’er do well. Felix likes to drink, gamble, own expensive horses, and chase women a description that could fit most young men of rank of any generation. The problem is he has no money and no prospects to really ever have any money. His only asset is the title his father gave him and his handsome good looks.
Marie wants her father to buy the pretty one.
Now to complicate things Ruby Ruggles, a buxom beauty from the country, has run away from home to be near Felix. He is rather happy about this as he is only interested in Marie for her money and it isn’t like he can take her out drinking and dancing. The problem is the lovely Ruby is betrothed to a young man named John Crumb. A man not opposed to putting a few knots on the head of a baronet who thinks he can take his girl. Ruby dreams of ascending to rank. Marie dreams of owning a handsome husband. John dreams of starting a family and Felix, well, he just needs his lifestyle financed.
Felix’s uncle Roger Carbury has control of the family estate that provides a modest, but steady income. Roger is in love with Felix’s sister Hetta. She is in love with Roger’s best friend Paul Montague. One of the themes of this novel is that no one seems to be in agreement about who should be in love with who. To complicate this triangle of disaster another person is lurking in the background, a lovely American named Mrs. Winifred Hurtle. She was engaged to Paul Montague and just because he has supposedly found the love of his life that doesn’t mean she is prepared to just pack her bags and go back to San Francisco. Her notorious background created the means by which Montague feels justified in breaking off their engagement.
Mrs Hurtle was regarded as a mystery. Some people did not quite believe that there ever had been a Mr Hurtle. Others said that there certainly had been a Mr Hurtle, and that to the best of their belief he still existed. The fact, however, best known of her was that she had shot a man through the head somewhere in Oregon.
On top of all that she once fought a duel with her husband.
My sympathy for Montague evaporates as he insists their engagement is broken: and yet, whenever he is in her presence he can’t help but lavish kisses and endearments upon her. She is intelligent, gorgeous, and head over heels in love with him. So what if she has a colorful past? Your life will never lack for excitement Mr. Montague. Roger of course is well aware of circumstances regarding Mrs. Hurtle. He is an honorable man, maybe the only one in the whole book, and wants to reveal this damning information to Hetta with the hope that her affections will turn to him.
He can’t do it. He simply can’t. He has obviously never heard the phrase: All is fair in love and war. Roger is a true gentleman and though Hetta values his character she does not see him as a potential husband.
Another richly drawn character is the enigmatic Lady Carbury, mother of Felix and Hetta. She is trying to guide her ineffectual son through the perils of securing a heiress. Felix is so caught up in the pleasure of the moment it takes a Herculean effort to keep him on task. She is intelligent and beautiful and relies on those assets to keep the family affairs afloat. She lends too much money to Felix who squanders it on inane entertainments. She is a writer of historical points of history,but fact checking is not her strong point. With a liberal sprinkling of feminine wile she always manages to extract a check and a promise to publish from a, at least temporarily besotted, magazine editor.
”A woman's weapon is her tongue.”
Certainly can be true, but Lady Carbury leaves them with a chimera of possibilities.
Georgiana Longestaffe has issues with her father. He decides due to financial constraints that he will not open the house in London. They will remain in the country for the social season. Georgiana had thoughts of marrying a Lord, but as each year has passed she has widened the pool of possibilities. She can not afford to let another season escape without securing a husband. There are always a fresh crop of girls to compete with for the eligible men. Despite her tantrums and her flouncing and her threats her father refuses to change his mind about the house in London. He has leased the place to Melmotte and with the thought of making his life more peaceful agrees to allow Georgiana to go stay with them. The problem is, yes she is in London, but the Melmottes are not invited the places she wants to go. Her “friends” come up with all kinds of reasons to not invite her to their events, namely that she is tainted by staying with this upstart family. Georgiana is incensed.
"As for me I shall give over caring about gentlemen now. The first man that comes to me with four or five thousand a year, I'll take him, though he'd come out of Newgate or Bedlam. And I shall always say it has been papa's doing.”
She agrees to an engagement with a merchant (gasp), a man old enough to be her father (gasp), and he is Jewish (her mother just fainted). She has her father’s attention now.
Graham Greene worked for the foreign office during World War Two. He was stationed for a while in Freetown, Sierra Leone a place as far removed from England as an Englishman can find himself. I can’t find the reference, but I remembered reading that Greene relied on the books of Trollope heavily to keep him sane amongst so much squalor. Well I soon formed my own addiction to Trollope needing a dollop every day. It is his longest novel, but did not feel that way at all. The cast of characters is large, but they are all so well drawn that even though I read it over a longer period than I normally take to read a book I never lost track of the threads of the plot and the subplots.
I found myself despising Felix, rooting for Roger, shivering over the dastardly deeds of Melmotte, and wishing I could take Mrs. Hurtle out on the town just once. Trollope brilliantly brings these people to life, so much so, that even those characters I really didn’t like I developed an understanding of them, and dare I say a feeling of sympathy. As their worlds begin to crumble it seems that no one will be allowed to live happily ever after, but with a bit of the magic of happenstance some people discover new avenues of happiness. Trollope titled this novel The Way We Live Now referring to the 1870s, but he could have been referring to the 1890s, the 1990s, or the 2010s. So read about The Way We Live Now and see if you know Ruby Ruggles, Felix Carbury, Paul Montague, Hetta Carbury, Winifred Hurtle, Roger Carbury, Georgiana Longestaffe or Augustus Melmotte. I bet you do.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
Anthony Trollope
Anthony Trollope wrote this satirical novel as a reaction to the financial scandals of the 1870s in Great Britain. His character Augustus Melmotte, a man of uncertain religious affiliation, and even more uncertain nationality arrives in London. There is just the whiff of scandal nipping at his heels from the continent, but along with those rumors also come rumblings of his great wealth. The Lords and Baronets of London are in need of some cash and when Melmotte sets up a company selling shares in a railroad to be built across Mexico they feel this is an opportunity for them to reach solvency. After all Melmotte seems to understand these financial matters and the Lords are only interested in profit not in comprehending exactly how something as vulgar as commerce works.
Melmotte is not a gentleman, but he moves in the world of gentlemen. He is snubbed by some for not being of the proper set, but as he insnares more and more of the men of society into his dealings he begins to demand entry into the social events that normally he would be excluded from. Lord Nidderdale, one of those caught in the Melmotte web, knows all is not what it seems, but he can’t quite believe that such a thing could really be happening in his world.
”That men should be thoroughly immoral, that they should gamble, get drunk, run into debt, and make love to other men's wives, was to him a matter of everyday life. Nothing of that kind shocked him at all. But he was not as yet quite old enough to believe in swindling.”
Charles Ponzi, the man who leveraged greed.
Greed will always create opportunity for schemers and since I don’t ever see greed disappearing from our collective nature, schemes will continue to work. By the way Ponzi (1920s) may have been the most famous of financial deceivers, but long before he was formulating his plan to bilk rich people Charles Dickens talked about this type of deception in his novel Martin Chuzzelwit (1844). Melmotte finds that London is full of desperate Lords who have mortgaged their estates to keep up appearances and that ready cash is becoming as precious to them as their titles.
”Rank squanders money; trade makes it;— and then trade purchases rank by re-gilding its splendour.”
And that is exactly Melmotte’s plan for he has a daughter, Marie. He wants to see her married to Lord Nidderdale. If not Nidderdale than another. He is pretty sure he can buy one.
Marie has other plans. She doesn’t want to marry a Lord, but a Baronet, specifically Sir Felix Carbury. Now a Baronet is a step down from a Lord, but not a horrible situation if he weren’t a ne’er do well. Felix likes to drink, gamble, own expensive horses, and chase women a description that could fit most young men of rank of any generation. The problem is he has no money and no prospects to really ever have any money. His only asset is the title his father gave him and his handsome good looks.
Marie wants her father to buy the pretty one.
Now to complicate things Ruby Ruggles, a buxom beauty from the country, has run away from home to be near Felix. He is rather happy about this as he is only interested in Marie for her money and it isn’t like he can take her out drinking and dancing. The problem is the lovely Ruby is betrothed to a young man named John Crumb. A man not opposed to putting a few knots on the head of a baronet who thinks he can take his girl. Ruby dreams of ascending to rank. Marie dreams of owning a handsome husband. John dreams of starting a family and Felix, well, he just needs his lifestyle financed.
Felix’s uncle Roger Carbury has control of the family estate that provides a modest, but steady income. Roger is in love with Felix’s sister Hetta. She is in love with Roger’s best friend Paul Montague. One of the themes of this novel is that no one seems to be in agreement about who should be in love with who. To complicate this triangle of disaster another person is lurking in the background, a lovely American named Mrs. Winifred Hurtle. She was engaged to Paul Montague and just because he has supposedly found the love of his life that doesn’t mean she is prepared to just pack her bags and go back to San Francisco. Her notorious background created the means by which Montague feels justified in breaking off their engagement.
Mrs Hurtle was regarded as a mystery. Some people did not quite believe that there ever had been a Mr Hurtle. Others said that there certainly had been a Mr Hurtle, and that to the best of their belief he still existed. The fact, however, best known of her was that she had shot a man through the head somewhere in Oregon.
On top of all that she once fought a duel with her husband.
My sympathy for Montague evaporates as he insists their engagement is broken: and yet, whenever he is in her presence he can’t help but lavish kisses and endearments upon her. She is intelligent, gorgeous, and head over heels in love with him. So what if she has a colorful past? Your life will never lack for excitement Mr. Montague. Roger of course is well aware of circumstances regarding Mrs. Hurtle. He is an honorable man, maybe the only one in the whole book, and wants to reveal this damning information to Hetta with the hope that her affections will turn to him.
He can’t do it. He simply can’t. He has obviously never heard the phrase: All is fair in love and war. Roger is a true gentleman and though Hetta values his character she does not see him as a potential husband.
Another richly drawn character is the enigmatic Lady Carbury, mother of Felix and Hetta. She is trying to guide her ineffectual son through the perils of securing a heiress. Felix is so caught up in the pleasure of the moment it takes a Herculean effort to keep him on task. She is intelligent and beautiful and relies on those assets to keep the family affairs afloat. She lends too much money to Felix who squanders it on inane entertainments. She is a writer of historical points of history,but fact checking is not her strong point. With a liberal sprinkling of feminine wile she always manages to extract a check and a promise to publish from a, at least temporarily besotted, magazine editor.
”A woman's weapon is her tongue.”
Certainly can be true, but Lady Carbury leaves them with a chimera of possibilities.
Georgiana Longestaffe has issues with her father. He decides due to financial constraints that he will not open the house in London. They will remain in the country for the social season. Georgiana had thoughts of marrying a Lord, but as each year has passed she has widened the pool of possibilities. She can not afford to let another season escape without securing a husband. There are always a fresh crop of girls to compete with for the eligible men. Despite her tantrums and her flouncing and her threats her father refuses to change his mind about the house in London. He has leased the place to Melmotte and with the thought of making his life more peaceful agrees to allow Georgiana to go stay with them. The problem is, yes she is in London, but the Melmottes are not invited the places she wants to go. Her “friends” come up with all kinds of reasons to not invite her to their events, namely that she is tainted by staying with this upstart family. Georgiana is incensed.
"As for me I shall give over caring about gentlemen now. The first man that comes to me with four or five thousand a year, I'll take him, though he'd come out of Newgate or Bedlam. And I shall always say it has been papa's doing.”
She agrees to an engagement with a merchant (gasp), a man old enough to be her father (gasp), and he is Jewish (her mother just fainted). She has her father’s attention now.
Graham Greene worked for the foreign office during World War Two. He was stationed for a while in Freetown, Sierra Leone a place as far removed from England as an Englishman can find himself. I can’t find the reference, but I remembered reading that Greene relied on the books of Trollope heavily to keep him sane amongst so much squalor. Well I soon formed my own addiction to Trollope needing a dollop every day. It is his longest novel, but did not feel that way at all. The cast of characters is large, but they are all so well drawn that even though I read it over a longer period than I normally take to read a book I never lost track of the threads of the plot and the subplots.
I found myself despising Felix, rooting for Roger, shivering over the dastardly deeds of Melmotte, and wishing I could take Mrs. Hurtle out on the town just once. Trollope brilliantly brings these people to life, so much so, that even those characters I really didn’t like I developed an understanding of them, and dare I say a feeling of sympathy. As their worlds begin to crumble it seems that no one will be allowed to live happily ever after, but with a bit of the magic of happenstance some people discover new avenues of happiness. Trollope titled this novel The Way We Live Now referring to the 1870s, but he could have been referring to the 1890s, the 1990s, or the 2010s. So read about The Way We Live Now and see if you know Ruby Ruggles, Felix Carbury, Paul Montague, Hetta Carbury, Winifred Hurtle, Roger Carbury, Georgiana Longestaffe or Augustus Melmotte. I bet you do.
If you wish to see more of my most recent book and movie reviews, visit http://www.jeffreykeeten.com
I also have a Facebook blogger page at:https://www.facebook.com/JeffreyKeeten
July 26, 2023
Consisting of 100 chapters and nearly a 1,000 pages in length, this satirical saga was one of the last great Victorian serials, and it was savaged by critics when it first began being periodically published in 1875. After years in the British colonies, Trollope returned to London and the South East only to be shocked by what he saw was the immorality and dishonesty that had seemed to go hand-in-hand with the growth of capitalism. He put together this, his longest work, taking no prisoners, satirising business, politics, religion, the literary world, the media, the upper classes etc. and he also did not hide way from writing about prejudice, snobbery, domestic abuse, gender-based double standards, white collar crime and what is essentially male privilege!
This book is tremendous, the characters although emblematic of certain traits are still well rounded and very lifelike, and I felt as much pity, as I did horror, at even some of the worse characters. The attack on the idle rich is scathing, showing a world of buffoons swanning around smoking, boozing and gambling their lives away, and all this when they're not out there trying to get rich heiresses to fall in love with them. There are at least eight(!) entwined major story lines, but the coup de grace is the story line centred around one of the richest men in London trying to swagger his way to respectability, by lavishing money everywhere, seeking a place in Parliament... by using underhand white collar crime, and that's when he isn't busy trying to force his daughter to marry into aristocracy for his own betterment.
But what really makes this such a tremendous read is the whole being the sum of so many parts and being so meticulously and tightly plotted. You start off reading about these 30-40+ people from the mostly entitled past where millions live in deep poverty, and by the end of the book not only do you know each and everyone of them, you care about them! 10 out of 12, Five Star Read.
The killer thing is that nearly every thing he wrote about then, is pretty much still going on - white collar crime involving huge amounts of funds, that everyone goes along with as long as they get their cut; the insularity of the church; domestic abuse; gender-based double standards; privilege; the literary elite and paid for reviews; laddish-ness... Indeed the only thing that has changed in 150 years is that patriarchy has much less power in some house holds! All the Stars!
2020 goddamn fine read
This book is tremendous, the characters although emblematic of certain traits are still well rounded and very lifelike, and I felt as much pity, as I did horror, at even some of the worse characters. The attack on the idle rich is scathing, showing a world of buffoons swanning around smoking, boozing and gambling their lives away, and all this when they're not out there trying to get rich heiresses to fall in love with them. There are at least eight(!) entwined major story lines, but the coup de grace is the story line centred around one of the richest men in London trying to swagger his way to respectability, by lavishing money everywhere, seeking a place in Parliament... by using underhand white collar crime, and that's when he isn't busy trying to force his daughter to marry into aristocracy for his own betterment.
But what really makes this such a tremendous read is the whole being the sum of so many parts and being so meticulously and tightly plotted. You start off reading about these 30-40+ people from the mostly entitled past where millions live in deep poverty, and by the end of the book not only do you know each and everyone of them, you care about them! 10 out of 12, Five Star Read.
The killer thing is that nearly every thing he wrote about then, is pretty much still going on - white collar crime involving huge amounts of funds, that everyone goes along with as long as they get their cut; the insularity of the church; domestic abuse; gender-based double standards; privilege; the literary elite and paid for reviews; laddish-ness... Indeed the only thing that has changed in 150 years is that patriarchy has much less power in some house holds! All the Stars!
2020 goddamn fine read
December 28, 2016
Virginia Woolf called Middlemarch "one of the few English novels written for grown-up people," one of my favorite things anyone's ever said about a book. They're sortof surprisingly rare, right?
Top Five Novels For Grown-Up People
5. Remains of the Day
4. War & Peace
3. Mrs. Dalloway
2. The Way We Live Now
1. Middlemarch
Here's another book for grown-up people. It has that vertiginous insight into human nature. It has a vast, complicated, working plot. And it's about grown-ups, by which I guess I mean that the plot doesn't revolve entirely around people courting each other or mucking about with swords.
Dickens does not write novels for grown-up people (I know, you're about to make an argument for Bleak House, and you might have something there) but Trollope shares with him a bottomless sympathy for humans. Melmotte is completely amoral, and he knows it, but Trollope does such a terrific job getting us into his head that I ended up almost rooting for him. Respecting him for what he is, anyway. (ETA for the 2016 election season: it's hard not to see a little proto-Trump in that guy.)
Of the many other characters spinning around in this mammoth panorama, Roger Carbury may be the hero of the book - I feel like if anyone represents Trollope himself, it's Roger - but he's also the least interesting character. I found him not unlikable, not awful, but boring. (Although I liked his ending - ) Felix is the only character for whom Trollope shows little sympathy; he's an outright villain, and a terrifically drawn one, and his ending, in which he . My favorite character in the book turns out to be Marie Melmotte, who's smarter and stronger than anyone gave her any credit for.
Everything here is built on false foundations. The gentlemen of the Beargarden have an ongoing whist game built mostly on IOUs - a totally false economic system that mirrors the larger railroad scheme everyone's caught up in. Marie and Ruby both build "castles in the air" regarding their future romantic prospects. The society Trollope is clearly not fond of has lost its grip on reality.
In a lot of ways The Way We Live Now is an archetypical Victorian novel - maybe the archetypical novel. It features the two big Victorian obsessions - class and women - and does a terrific job of getting into every corner of both debates. Ruby Ruggles reminds me of Hardy; Henrietta Carbury reminds me of Eliot.
It's all marvelously done, and this is the best book I've read in ages.
Top Five Novels For Grown-Up People
5. Remains of the Day
4. War & Peace
3. Mrs. Dalloway
2. The Way We Live Now
1. Middlemarch
Here's another book for grown-up people. It has that vertiginous insight into human nature. It has a vast, complicated, working plot. And it's about grown-ups, by which I guess I mean that the plot doesn't revolve entirely around people courting each other or mucking about with swords.
Dickens does not write novels for grown-up people (I know, you're about to make an argument for Bleak House, and you might have something there) but Trollope shares with him a bottomless sympathy for humans. Melmotte is completely amoral, and he knows it, but Trollope does such a terrific job getting us into his head that I ended up almost rooting for him. Respecting him for what he is, anyway. (ETA for the 2016 election season: it's hard not to see a little proto-Trump in that guy.)
Of the many other characters spinning around in this mammoth panorama, Roger Carbury may be the hero of the book - I feel like if anyone represents Trollope himself, it's Roger - but he's also the least interesting character. I found him not unlikable, not awful, but boring. (Although I liked his ending - ) Felix is the only character for whom Trollope shows little sympathy; he's an outright villain, and a terrifically drawn one, and his ending, in which he . My favorite character in the book turns out to be Marie Melmotte, who's smarter and stronger than anyone gave her any credit for.
Everything here is built on false foundations. The gentlemen of the Beargarden have an ongoing whist game built mostly on IOUs - a totally false economic system that mirrors the larger railroad scheme everyone's caught up in. Marie and Ruby both build "castles in the air" regarding their future romantic prospects. The society Trollope is clearly not fond of has lost its grip on reality.
In a lot of ways The Way We Live Now is an archetypical Victorian novel - maybe the archetypical novel. It features the two big Victorian obsessions - class and women - and does a terrific job of getting into every corner of both debates. Ruby Ruggles reminds me of Hardy; Henrietta Carbury reminds me of Eliot.
It's all marvelously done, and this is the best book I've read in ages.
October 31, 2023
As good the fourth time as the first. A brilliant, engaging read, a fascinating exploration of money, power and class in the Victorian period.
April 10, 2007
A great novel, perhaps Trollope's best. But it's not the one I usually recommend to those who have never read Trollope and want to try him. For one thing, it's very long. For another, it's pretty dark. There are a lot of characters in this novel, and almost every one of them views money as the summum bonum. That, after all, is the way we live now.
At the center of the novel is Augustus Melmotte, an ill-mannered foreigner of undetermined background, with whom in better times, Trollope believes, no honorable person would have had anything to do. But Melmotte is very, very rich -- or at least he appears to be very, very rich -- so people who should know better, people who a generation earlier would have been true "gentlemen" (an ideal that was very important to Trollope), are falling over themselves to associate themselves with this mysterious foreigner. As Trollope says in many of his novels, paraphrasing Shakespeare, they think they can touch pitch and not be defiled -- although it may be more accurate to say that many of the characters in The Way We Live Now think that if they touch pitch, they won't care very much that they are defiled. It's the way we live now.
There are lots of other disreputable characters, too. One of my favorites is the seductive Winifred Hurtle, who, they say -- and I love this detail! -- shot a man in Oregon.
If you saw the PBS dramatization of this novel a few years ago, please don't use that to judge this novel. I love Masterpiece Theatre, but it did not begin to do justice to the richness of this novel.
At the center of the novel is Augustus Melmotte, an ill-mannered foreigner of undetermined background, with whom in better times, Trollope believes, no honorable person would have had anything to do. But Melmotte is very, very rich -- or at least he appears to be very, very rich -- so people who should know better, people who a generation earlier would have been true "gentlemen" (an ideal that was very important to Trollope), are falling over themselves to associate themselves with this mysterious foreigner. As Trollope says in many of his novels, paraphrasing Shakespeare, they think they can touch pitch and not be defiled -- although it may be more accurate to say that many of the characters in The Way We Live Now think that if they touch pitch, they won't care very much that they are defiled. It's the way we live now.
There are lots of other disreputable characters, too. One of my favorites is the seductive Winifred Hurtle, who, they say -- and I love this detail! -- shot a man in Oregon.
If you saw the PBS dramatization of this novel a few years ago, please don't use that to judge this novel. I love Masterpiece Theatre, but it did not begin to do justice to the richness of this novel.
June 28, 2024
2024/28
A few days ago I was holding my old copy of Jane Eyre, remembering that it was not more than four years ago when I picked it up and ended up being a favorite of mine. Then Wuthering Heights blew my mind a few months later (I still remember one scene with Nelly running from Wuthering Heights to Thrushcross Grange—or was the other way around?—that made me realize that this book was nothing like those I had read so far), and kept me from reading anything else until I finally finished it up. That was the moment when my love for Victorian literature began.
If you ask me, nothing keeps me more entertained than a good Victorian novel, especially when it happens to have unforgettable characters and a remarkable plot. Something that you can remember even when time passes, and even when other books from different periods take these Victorian novels' places—e.g. among your favorites, recent outstanding reads, etc.—and you focus on these instead, at least for just a moment. For instance, how can anyone forget the first chapters of The Woman in White, when our protagonist comes across a mysterious woman? Or that moment in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, when everyone talks about a newcomer—a widow—at church? Or maybe the strike scene in North and South? Those are passages/chapters that were very well written and, at the same time, that spoke to me, and I couldn't therefore forget them (and probably never will).
Reading Victorian novels is more about passion, rather than finding life's meaning. I genuinely believe you must love Victorian literature if you read a lot of novels from that period (I don't think I read a lot of Victorian books to be honest, although some of my friends usually think otherwise). My point is that you might enjoy some novels, maybe one by Charles Dickens, one by Charlotte Brontë, another by Robert Louis Stevenson, or maybe you pick one up once in a while, but loving Victorians goes beyond that. In my experience, whenever I read a Victorian story I immediately connect to the characters and their circumstances. It generally doesn't matter where they live (it might be the countryside, the big city, the moorlands, a castle or a small house, near the coast or by the highlands), who they are (are they part of the gentry? Are they 'common' people? Are they nobles, middle class, poor? Are they young, or maybe old?, etc.), or what their particular story is; as soon as I start reading, there is some magic that makes me go inside the story and get involved with their dreams as well as their sorrows. It is not as though this doesn't happen to me when reading modern classics, let alone contemporary literature (once in a blue moon I find myself here), but with Victorian books this is special, it feels unique—some sort of experience that you click into, but you cannot put into words.
When reading The Way We Live Now I found myself gravitating towards the story's immense amount of Victorian themes. It is not only one of the greatest Victorian novels I have read in a long time, but it is also an accurate depiction of the way they used to live back then (and the themes I am interested in when picking up Victorian books). Its characters are not only alive but realistic. I was telling my friend the other day that, even when you can find Victorian society too far away from now, and even too far away from my own country (Mexican guy here), its characters are timeless and placeless (man, is that even a word?), whose traits—the good ones and the bad ones—as well as their actions are part of any person you might know. They are not good or evil, they are just humans, something that Trollope was able to pull off in this novel (definitely one of his masterpieces from cover to cover).
Victorians are curious people, so to speak. When you see in a story that such-and-such character is having some trouble you might wonder, what is going on here? and all of a sudden, their issues seem far-fetched in our view: for example, marriage. Getting married was an obligation back in the day, nay, it was your purpose in life. If you don't get married, especially if you are a Victorian woman, your life might be ruined forever. Such situations occur in The Way We Live Now: why are you getting engaged to that man? A man who doesn't belong to our society, let alone our circle. Why don't you want to get married to him? Don't you see he has money? You have to marry money. What is wrong with him? I mean, yeah, he might get drunk sometimes, but who doesn't? Don't you see this is the only chance for you not to be a spinster anymore? And so on. Other topics such as religion, politics, and personal beliefs are part of the long list that Trollope made sure to depict throughout his tale. Perhaps you wonder what this has to do with our current society; with our lives these days. Well, it has a lot to do with us; not because we are having the same problems as they used to have back then, but because the way we face our difficulties hasn't changed a lot concerning the way these characters—and other characters from other Victorian novels—deal with them. The way we live now and the way they lived back in those days are quite different, but the way we try to find solutions, and the way we try to be happier and more resilient, facing our reality that might not be as good as we wish it were, couldn't be more similar.
Thus, my love for Victorian literature has been stated. I am by no means a serious reader looking for hidden messages when reading a novel, nor do I try to learn life lessons every time I pick up a book. I am only an avid reader who leans towards Victorian literature, more than anything else, and has discovered new perspectives, new ways of life, and new realities when reading Victorian authors. All in all, I cannot help but recommend a novel such as The Way We Live Now—I can also recommend other novels by Anthony Trollope, but the list is quite long: overall his works are masterfully crafted, especially the ones belonging to his Palliser series; you can't go wrong with that—an outstanding portrayal of a part of the Victorian society, in other words, people being themselves; just normal people living and learning from their own experiences.
P.S. To the person who can tell me how many times I typed the word 'Victorian' in this review, I promise I will send them my personal and authentic Mexican guacamole recipe. :)
My rating on a scale of 1 to 5:
Quality of writing [4.5/5]
Pace [5/5]
Plot development [5/5]
Characters [5/5]
Enjoyability [5/5]
Insightfulness [4.5/5]
Easy of reading [5/5]
Photos/Illustrations [N/A]
Total [34/7] = 4.85
A few days ago I was holding my old copy of Jane Eyre, remembering that it was not more than four years ago when I picked it up and ended up being a favorite of mine. Then Wuthering Heights blew my mind a few months later (I still remember one scene with Nelly running from Wuthering Heights to Thrushcross Grange—or was the other way around?—that made me realize that this book was nothing like those I had read so far), and kept me from reading anything else until I finally finished it up. That was the moment when my love for Victorian literature began.
If you ask me, nothing keeps me more entertained than a good Victorian novel, especially when it happens to have unforgettable characters and a remarkable plot. Something that you can remember even when time passes, and even when other books from different periods take these Victorian novels' places—e.g. among your favorites, recent outstanding reads, etc.—and you focus on these instead, at least for just a moment. For instance, how can anyone forget the first chapters of The Woman in White, when our protagonist comes across a mysterious woman? Or that moment in The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, when everyone talks about a newcomer—a widow—at church? Or maybe the strike scene in North and South? Those are passages/chapters that were very well written and, at the same time, that spoke to me, and I couldn't therefore forget them (and probably never will).
Reading Victorian novels is more about passion, rather than finding life's meaning. I genuinely believe you must love Victorian literature if you read a lot of novels from that period (I don't think I read a lot of Victorian books to be honest, although some of my friends usually think otherwise). My point is that you might enjoy some novels, maybe one by Charles Dickens, one by Charlotte Brontë, another by Robert Louis Stevenson, or maybe you pick one up once in a while, but loving Victorians goes beyond that. In my experience, whenever I read a Victorian story I immediately connect to the characters and their circumstances. It generally doesn't matter where they live (it might be the countryside, the big city, the moorlands, a castle or a small house, near the coast or by the highlands), who they are (are they part of the gentry? Are they 'common' people? Are they nobles, middle class, poor? Are they young, or maybe old?, etc.), or what their particular story is; as soon as I start reading, there is some magic that makes me go inside the story and get involved with their dreams as well as their sorrows. It is not as though this doesn't happen to me when reading modern classics, let alone contemporary literature (once in a blue moon I find myself here), but with Victorian books this is special, it feels unique—some sort of experience that you click into, but you cannot put into words.
When reading The Way We Live Now I found myself gravitating towards the story's immense amount of Victorian themes. It is not only one of the greatest Victorian novels I have read in a long time, but it is also an accurate depiction of the way they used to live back then (and the themes I am interested in when picking up Victorian books). Its characters are not only alive but realistic. I was telling my friend the other day that, even when you can find Victorian society too far away from now, and even too far away from my own country (Mexican guy here), its characters are timeless and placeless (man, is that even a word?), whose traits—the good ones and the bad ones—as well as their actions are part of any person you might know. They are not good or evil, they are just humans, something that Trollope was able to pull off in this novel (definitely one of his masterpieces from cover to cover).
Victorians are curious people, so to speak. When you see in a story that such-and-such character is having some trouble you might wonder, what is going on here? and all of a sudden, their issues seem far-fetched in our view: for example, marriage. Getting married was an obligation back in the day, nay, it was your purpose in life. If you don't get married, especially if you are a Victorian woman, your life might be ruined forever. Such situations occur in The Way We Live Now: why are you getting engaged to that man? A man who doesn't belong to our society, let alone our circle. Why don't you want to get married to him? Don't you see he has money? You have to marry money. What is wrong with him? I mean, yeah, he might get drunk sometimes, but who doesn't? Don't you see this is the only chance for you not to be a spinster anymore? And so on. Other topics such as religion, politics, and personal beliefs are part of the long list that Trollope made sure to depict throughout his tale. Perhaps you wonder what this has to do with our current society; with our lives these days. Well, it has a lot to do with us; not because we are having the same problems as they used to have back then, but because the way we face our difficulties hasn't changed a lot concerning the way these characters—and other characters from other Victorian novels—deal with them. The way we live now and the way they lived back in those days are quite different, but the way we try to find solutions, and the way we try to be happier and more resilient, facing our reality that might not be as good as we wish it were, couldn't be more similar.
Thus, my love for Victorian literature has been stated. I am by no means a serious reader looking for hidden messages when reading a novel, nor do I try to learn life lessons every time I pick up a book. I am only an avid reader who leans towards Victorian literature, more than anything else, and has discovered new perspectives, new ways of life, and new realities when reading Victorian authors. All in all, I cannot help but recommend a novel such as The Way We Live Now—I can also recommend other novels by Anthony Trollope, but the list is quite long: overall his works are masterfully crafted, especially the ones belonging to his Palliser series; you can't go wrong with that—an outstanding portrayal of a part of the Victorian society, in other words, people being themselves; just normal people living and learning from their own experiences.
P.S. To the person who can tell me how many times I typed the word 'Victorian' in this review, I promise I will send them my personal and authentic Mexican guacamole recipe. :)
My rating on a scale of 1 to 5:
Quality of writing [4.5/5]
Pace [5/5]
Plot development [5/5]
Characters [5/5]
Enjoyability [5/5]
Insightfulness [4.5/5]
Easy of reading [5/5]
Photos/Illustrations [N/A]
Total [34/7] = 4.85
February 17, 2025
I listened to this as an audiobook. It took me almost 5 months, which perhaps makes you think that I did not enjoy it. In fact though, the opposite is the case. I loved every minute of it!
At a hundred chapters long, The Way We Live Now is Anthony Trollope’s longest stand-alone novel. I listened to it most days, but only for about a quarter of an hour to twenty minutes (while I ate lunch). Since the recording was 36 hours and 42 minutes, that’s how long it lasted. And I can honestly say that I looked forward to it, and felt a real sense of loss when it had finished.
This surprised me, as I had actually delayed listening to The Way We Live Now for some time, fearing it may be dry. Not many novels extend to two DAISY disks, but this one did, and in book form it had first been published in two volumes. (The initial publication was as a serial, as was most Victorian fiction, although at 1874 it is quite late: in fact one of the final important Victorian novels to have been published in monthly parts.) However I was quickly hooked, getting to know and love - or hate - these characters and situations. Even though it was published almost 150 years ago, every single one of them felt real and fresh, and I wanted to know what would happen next.
Anthony Trollope had a keen eye and a narrative voice which has not dated. Human nature never changes, and I could predict what sort of things each of these characters might do next, by their personalities. I delighted in the situations they had to extricate themselves from - or perhaps make the most of - through various rigmaroles. Some were honest, but at least one of them was a swindler, and several of the others were treacherous or full of tricks. Although I loved to read about their antics and machinations; their dire straits and the desperate situations they became embroiled in, I can’t think of a single one I would have liked to know in real life! It is entirely due to Anthony Trollope’s fine skill as a writer that he made me believe in them, he made me feel, and he made me care about them, whilst thoroughly entertaining me.
The Way We Live Now is subtle. It starts out almost as a social novel, and I am not a fan of sagas. So for it to engage me personally, it would need to be as witty as Jane Austen or Oscar Wilde. This does not have the obvious wit of those authors, but soon we see that there is a lot of sly satire here.
Anthony Trollope originally referred to The Way We Live Now as the “Carbury novel”, and intended to centre on Matilda, Lady Carbury as the main character. Lady Carbury is an aspiring (but we can deduce a rather bad) writer, trying to arrange favourable reviews for her book “Criminal Queens”. Since the death of her abusive husband, she has decided she deserves literary fame and friends for herself. She cultivates an editor friend Mr. Broune to this end. But she agonises over her children Sir Felix and Hetta Carbury. Paul Montague, who looks up to Roger Carbury as his mentor.
Anthony Trollope said in his notes that he intended all the other characters to inhabit the literary world in which Lady Carbury circulates, as subplots. We can see this, as the novel does return to her throughout. It was therefore initially meant to be more of a satire about the literary world, but in fact covers a much broader area. Perhaps the change of heart came as he was writing. He began in May 1873, five months after returning from an extended trip to Australia and New Zealand, but was interrupted by the need to write a shorter novel (“Harry Heathcote of Gangoil”) which he had already promised his publisher. Anthony Trollope resumed work on The Way We Live Now in July.
What resulted is a huge expansion from the Carbury novel into what we now recognise as a satire of the financial crises hitting Europe and the USA in the early 1870s. There were several scandals exposed at this time, which shocked Anthony Trollope to the core. This novel is his reaction; his angry comment on the greed and dishonesty he saw actively burgeoning in all areas, whether commercial, political, moral, or the intellectual life of that era. But like Charles Dickens with in “Little Dorrit”, over a decade earlier in 1857, he pinpointed one man to embody all this fabulous but unscrupulous success at making money: Augustus Melmotte.
When we read the novel now, we might feel that Melmotte is the most important character, because of the economic depression in Europe and North America, which had been triggered by the financial crisis called the “Panic of 1873”. This long depression had far-reaching effects, right until the 1930s. Beginning writing The Way We Live Now in the same year which this started, the economic crisis evidently filled Anthony Trollope’s thoughts, pushing aside the satire about literary circles he had intended, and giving this an equal focus. He had originally envisioned Melmotte as a minor character, first as an American, and then later as a Frenchman.
Whereas Dickens’s is evidently based on the Irish swindler John Sadlier, nobody is sure who Melmotte is based on . Several other real-life figures have been proposed as the inspiration for Augustus Melmotte, such as the French financier Charles Lefevre, or ‘King’ Hudson, a railway speculator in the 1840s. ‘King’ Hudson, like Melmotte, was so wealthy that he lived in an ostentatious home in London’s most expensive district of Knightsbridge, where he entertained the highest members of the English aristocracy. He too was . He died abroad in 1871, just a couple of years before Trollope began work on The Way We Live Now. Melmotte’s ambition knows no bounds, and he plans to become involved with the influential heart of English politics, despite people laughing at his origins and despising him behind his back. But money talks, and he .
Whoever the inspiration, Augustus Melmotte’s America-to-Mexico railroad scheme has far-reaching consequences involving most of the young men in this novel, and thus their relatives, to varying degrees. Unusually for Trollope, we have the whole social range from minor aristocrats, gentry, politicans, business classes, shopkeepers and working folk such as farmers and servants all with their own story arcs in this novel. There are also some American characters such as the gun-toting Mrs. Winifred Hurtle . Plus there are other Americans involved in the railway scheme. We are never sure of Melmotte’s nationality but his reputation has been built abroad, most recently in Austria. His docile wife is rumoured to have Jewish origins. She does not speak English, and his strongminded daughter Marie (who is not her daughter) is French. An interesting plotline involves that was one of my favourite scenes in the book! Whether any of these plans succeed is yet another long story, involving card games, IOUs and a devious French maid called Didon.
There are quite a few more characters deserving of mention, such as Melmotte’s clerk the long-suffering Croll . Or Dolly (Adolphus) Longstaffe, the well-meaning and wealthy but essentially conventional friend who will not fall in with Felix’s plans.
The novel is an absolute delight, revealing the immorality and dishonesty Trollope found in English society with waspish wit. His satire on a world of bribes and vendettas, swindling and suicide where (as the blurb says) heiresses are won like gambling stakes is irresistible. It is impossible to give more than a taste of it here.
I would recommend listening to this on audio, if that is a option for you. Anthony Trollope’s style is droll and witty, and because he includes a lot of conversation, it works well on audio. I don’t think you will be disappointed, especially if you have an excellent narrator. The edition I listened to was not in fact this one, but one read by Tony Chambers. Sadly it dates from 1941, so it is unlikely to be widely available now. However I have listened to Timothy West reading the final 3 complete novels of the Barsetshire Chronicles, and he too is an excellent narrator for Anthony Trollope.
There is also an excellent BBC television dramatisation of the novel in four parts, which was first broadcast in 2001. It necessarily misses out some of the subplots, but there is a stellar performance of Augustus Melmotte by David Suchet, and a strong supporting cast.
At a hundred chapters long, The Way We Live Now is Anthony Trollope’s longest stand-alone novel. I listened to it most days, but only for about a quarter of an hour to twenty minutes (while I ate lunch). Since the recording was 36 hours and 42 minutes, that’s how long it lasted. And I can honestly say that I looked forward to it, and felt a real sense of loss when it had finished.
This surprised me, as I had actually delayed listening to The Way We Live Now for some time, fearing it may be dry. Not many novels extend to two DAISY disks, but this one did, and in book form it had first been published in two volumes. (The initial publication was as a serial, as was most Victorian fiction, although at 1874 it is quite late: in fact one of the final important Victorian novels to have been published in monthly parts.) However I was quickly hooked, getting to know and love - or hate - these characters and situations. Even though it was published almost 150 years ago, every single one of them felt real and fresh, and I wanted to know what would happen next.
Anthony Trollope had a keen eye and a narrative voice which has not dated. Human nature never changes, and I could predict what sort of things each of these characters might do next, by their personalities. I delighted in the situations they had to extricate themselves from - or perhaps make the most of - through various rigmaroles. Some were honest, but at least one of them was a swindler, and several of the others were treacherous or full of tricks. Although I loved to read about their antics and machinations; their dire straits and the desperate situations they became embroiled in, I can’t think of a single one I would have liked to know in real life! It is entirely due to Anthony Trollope’s fine skill as a writer that he made me believe in them, he made me feel, and he made me care about them, whilst thoroughly entertaining me.
The Way We Live Now is subtle. It starts out almost as a social novel, and I am not a fan of sagas. So for it to engage me personally, it would need to be as witty as Jane Austen or Oscar Wilde. This does not have the obvious wit of those authors, but soon we see that there is a lot of sly satire here.
Anthony Trollope originally referred to The Way We Live Now as the “Carbury novel”, and intended to centre on Matilda, Lady Carbury as the main character. Lady Carbury is an aspiring (but we can deduce a rather bad) writer, trying to arrange favourable reviews for her book “Criminal Queens”. Since the death of her abusive husband, she has decided she deserves literary fame and friends for herself. She cultivates an editor friend Mr. Broune to this end. But she agonises over her children Sir Felix and Hetta Carbury. Paul Montague, who looks up to Roger Carbury as his mentor.
Anthony Trollope said in his notes that he intended all the other characters to inhabit the literary world in which Lady Carbury circulates, as subplots. We can see this, as the novel does return to her throughout. It was therefore initially meant to be more of a satire about the literary world, but in fact covers a much broader area. Perhaps the change of heart came as he was writing. He began in May 1873, five months after returning from an extended trip to Australia and New Zealand, but was interrupted by the need to write a shorter novel (“Harry Heathcote of Gangoil”) which he had already promised his publisher. Anthony Trollope resumed work on The Way We Live Now in July.
What resulted is a huge expansion from the Carbury novel into what we now recognise as a satire of the financial crises hitting Europe and the USA in the early 1870s. There were several scandals exposed at this time, which shocked Anthony Trollope to the core. This novel is his reaction; his angry comment on the greed and dishonesty he saw actively burgeoning in all areas, whether commercial, political, moral, or the intellectual life of that era. But like Charles Dickens with in “Little Dorrit”, over a decade earlier in 1857, he pinpointed one man to embody all this fabulous but unscrupulous success at making money: Augustus Melmotte.
When we read the novel now, we might feel that Melmotte is the most important character, because of the economic depression in Europe and North America, which had been triggered by the financial crisis called the “Panic of 1873”. This long depression had far-reaching effects, right until the 1930s. Beginning writing The Way We Live Now in the same year which this started, the economic crisis evidently filled Anthony Trollope’s thoughts, pushing aside the satire about literary circles he had intended, and giving this an equal focus. He had originally envisioned Melmotte as a minor character, first as an American, and then later as a Frenchman.
Whereas Dickens’s is evidently based on the Irish swindler John Sadlier, nobody is sure who Melmotte is based on . Several other real-life figures have been proposed as the inspiration for Augustus Melmotte, such as the French financier Charles Lefevre, or ‘King’ Hudson, a railway speculator in the 1840s. ‘King’ Hudson, like Melmotte, was so wealthy that he lived in an ostentatious home in London’s most expensive district of Knightsbridge, where he entertained the highest members of the English aristocracy. He too was . He died abroad in 1871, just a couple of years before Trollope began work on The Way We Live Now. Melmotte’s ambition knows no bounds, and he plans to become involved with the influential heart of English politics, despite people laughing at his origins and despising him behind his back. But money talks, and he .
Whoever the inspiration, Augustus Melmotte’s America-to-Mexico railroad scheme has far-reaching consequences involving most of the young men in this novel, and thus their relatives, to varying degrees. Unusually for Trollope, we have the whole social range from minor aristocrats, gentry, politicans, business classes, shopkeepers and working folk such as farmers and servants all with their own story arcs in this novel. There are also some American characters such as the gun-toting Mrs. Winifred Hurtle . Plus there are other Americans involved in the railway scheme. We are never sure of Melmotte’s nationality but his reputation has been built abroad, most recently in Austria. His docile wife is rumoured to have Jewish origins. She does not speak English, and his strongminded daughter Marie (who is not her daughter) is French. An interesting plotline involves that was one of my favourite scenes in the book! Whether any of these plans succeed is yet another long story, involving card games, IOUs and a devious French maid called Didon.
There are quite a few more characters deserving of mention, such as Melmotte’s clerk the long-suffering Croll . Or Dolly (Adolphus) Longstaffe, the well-meaning and wealthy but essentially conventional friend who will not fall in with Felix’s plans.
The novel is an absolute delight, revealing the immorality and dishonesty Trollope found in English society with waspish wit. His satire on a world of bribes and vendettas, swindling and suicide where (as the blurb says) heiresses are won like gambling stakes is irresistible. It is impossible to give more than a taste of it here.
I would recommend listening to this on audio, if that is a option for you. Anthony Trollope’s style is droll and witty, and because he includes a lot of conversation, it works well on audio. I don’t think you will be disappointed, especially if you have an excellent narrator. The edition I listened to was not in fact this one, but one read by Tony Chambers. Sadly it dates from 1941, so it is unlikely to be widely available now. However I have listened to Timothy West reading the final 3 complete novels of the Barsetshire Chronicles, and he too is an excellent narrator for Anthony Trollope.
There is also an excellent BBC television dramatisation of the novel in four parts, which was first broadcast in 2001. It necessarily misses out some of the subplots, but there is a stellar performance of Augustus Melmotte by David Suchet, and a strong supporting cast.
Shelved as 'reviews-of-books-i-didnt-read'
July 14, 2019Given up for now, probably for ever. Too many Victorian novelists thought the only subject they could possibly make a novel out of was the broad satire of the upper classes, these awful families with their country houses in Berkshire and their town houses in Westmoreland Square and the huge comedy of their attempts to make Good Marriages and the endless parade of bad sons who gamble away the family porcelain so their brilliant sisters must marry fat old Lords and they all go to balls that all get a 50 page description and they all play cards and they all eat and eat and eat and their repulsive lifestyle is propped up by a grey army of nameless servants one of whom occasionally dies and inconveniences everyone because the peacock’s brains will now have to be the eighth course not the fifth course, so you have Clarissa, Evelina, all the novels of Jane Austen, Vanity Fair (the best of the bunch), The Tenant of Wildfell Hall (the Leonard Cohen version), The Portrait of a Lady, The Forsyte Saga and so forth, many books, many authors, same subject.
If I had come across The Way we Live Now before Vanity Fair probably it would have been Vanity Fair that I gave up, because these are the same thing, more or less, and that would have been a great pity, because Vanity Fair is GREAT so for me Anthony Trollope was the comedian who came on stage and cracked all the jokes the previous guy had just cracked.
If I had come across The Way we Live Now before Vanity Fair probably it would have been Vanity Fair that I gave up, because these are the same thing, more or less, and that would have been a great pity, because Vanity Fair is GREAT so for me Anthony Trollope was the comedian who came on stage and cracked all the jokes the previous guy had just cracked.
March 6, 2014
The more that I read Victorian literature the more I am convinced that back in those days it was all about authors showing off. The educated public who could actually read and write were in much smaller proportion to the whole society than today. These people wanted to spend their hard earned shillings on something that was truly worth their time and money. The thought of watching television or films to fill people’s downtime would not appear until another half century or so. So what did people do to entertain them and fill their time when they weren’t working? They read BIG ASS books.
Books such as Bleak House, Middlemarch, Vanity Fair, and this monstrosity, The Way We Live Now, were all (and still are) enormously popular. All hailed as masterpieces, all over 800 pages long, all demanding more time and attention than your overly possessive girlfriend. Yet these books still are read today from cover to cover and are placed prominently on all bookstore shelves.
My next question for you is this. Is reading a BIG ASS book such as The Way We Live Now, really worth my time and attention? Or am I better off turning on the television and watching reality TV which is obviously less difficult, no less time consuming, and requires significantly less brain power? My answer is simple. I believe that a book such as TWWLN is worth the time and effort. We read these old BIG ASS books because they take us to a long bygone time free from reality television, iPhones, and emails. They keep our minds sharp and words plentiful. They explore human imagination and they simultaneously entertain us. And they do so for what seems to be an eternity.
But what about TWWLN? How does this book, Trollope’s most famous novel, stand out as an absorbing read in its own right? Well, the first thing that I have to say about this is that Trollope’s writing here is about as good as it gets in the English language. Trollope, like his peers Collins and Dickens, is a master wordsmith. He can take an ordinary sentence and turn it into something clever and delicious. The second thing, which concerns plotting, is that this book is very average. The central plot concerning a Ponzi scheme initiated by a notorious French swindler among the aristocrat class of Victorian London was in itself groundbreaking and original. However, the various subplots which incorporate love triangles galore and the tedious drama and woes of marrying for money seem a little tired. Obviously, this book, written as a social commentary, dwelled upon these themes because they were the concerns of the time. My only issue with this is that these themes, like much of Victorian literature, follows too much in the footsteps of Jane Austin and doesn’t really add anything too imaginative to the genre. Also, I believe the love triangles were a little too numerous and various characters could have been removed to enhance the pacing of the novel.
Regardless of some of the flaws of this novel, I believe that TWWLN was a thoroughly enjoyable read and contained some of the most interesting and lifelike characters in all of literature. Trollope was known for his consistency so I will continue to explore his work. With over 40 novels written by his pen, there is a lot of ground to cover. Yet, TWWLN, has satisfied my current desire to read Trollope. At least for now.
Books such as Bleak House, Middlemarch, Vanity Fair, and this monstrosity, The Way We Live Now, were all (and still are) enormously popular. All hailed as masterpieces, all over 800 pages long, all demanding more time and attention than your overly possessive girlfriend. Yet these books still are read today from cover to cover and are placed prominently on all bookstore shelves.
My next question for you is this. Is reading a BIG ASS book such as The Way We Live Now, really worth my time and attention? Or am I better off turning on the television and watching reality TV which is obviously less difficult, no less time consuming, and requires significantly less brain power? My answer is simple. I believe that a book such as TWWLN is worth the time and effort. We read these old BIG ASS books because they take us to a long bygone time free from reality television, iPhones, and emails. They keep our minds sharp and words plentiful. They explore human imagination and they simultaneously entertain us. And they do so for what seems to be an eternity.
But what about TWWLN? How does this book, Trollope’s most famous novel, stand out as an absorbing read in its own right? Well, the first thing that I have to say about this is that Trollope’s writing here is about as good as it gets in the English language. Trollope, like his peers Collins and Dickens, is a master wordsmith. He can take an ordinary sentence and turn it into something clever and delicious. The second thing, which concerns plotting, is that this book is very average. The central plot concerning a Ponzi scheme initiated by a notorious French swindler among the aristocrat class of Victorian London was in itself groundbreaking and original. However, the various subplots which incorporate love triangles galore and the tedious drama and woes of marrying for money seem a little tired. Obviously, this book, written as a social commentary, dwelled upon these themes because they were the concerns of the time. My only issue with this is that these themes, like much of Victorian literature, follows too much in the footsteps of Jane Austin and doesn’t really add anything too imaginative to the genre. Also, I believe the love triangles were a little too numerous and various characters could have been removed to enhance the pacing of the novel.
Regardless of some of the flaws of this novel, I believe that TWWLN was a thoroughly enjoyable read and contained some of the most interesting and lifelike characters in all of literature. Trollope was known for his consistency so I will continue to explore his work. With over 40 novels written by his pen, there is a lot of ground to cover. Yet, TWWLN, has satisfied my current desire to read Trollope. At least for now.
June 23, 2019
I can see why people speak of The Way We Live Now (1875) as Trollope’s masterpiece. It’s quite superb. It’s a vast novel (a hundred chapters), but it never dragged in the least for me. Trollope is fairly light on description and leans hard on dialogue, with which he has a wonderfully deft touch.
I was always rather suspicious about this book when I read about its subject matter. I knew it was about a parvenu financier of suspiciously foreign origins, who was supposed to embody the corruption of the modern world; and I imagined it would be rather conservative and xenophobic in its values. In fact, it’s nothing of the kind. It’s the aristocratic Londoners who allow themselves to be bewitched by Augustus Melmotte’s dubiously-acquired lucre who come in for the keenest of Trollope’s satirical barbs. Melmotte himself, though certainly a monster, is allowed to acquire a certain tragic grandeur in his painfully protracted fall from grace. His illegitimate daughter Marie, meanwhile, who spends most of the novel being dangled as prey for impecunious titled fortune-hunters, finishes up as a splendid, scene-stealing, table-turning heroine—for me the standout character of the book.
The chief moral theme of TWWLN, as identified by Trollope in his autobiography, is the disturbingly contemporary one of the corrosive social effects of dishonesty when gilded by wealth and power. London in the 1870s is portrayed here as feverishly enthralled to money and disinclined to earn it by any form of solid labor. Melmotte’s dangerous games with the stock market are mirrored in the hapless, addictive gambling of the rabble of young London toffs who meet nightly in a louche club, the Beargarden—a brilliantly rendered comic location. In one tellingly symbolic scene, the handsome but rankly feckless anti-hero Sir Felix Carbury trades a fistful of worthless Beargarden IOUs for an equally nebulous handful of Melmotte’s mysteriously managed Mexican railway shares.
I broadly agree with Trollope’s own judgment that “the interest of the book lies with its wicked and foolish characters,” but I think he is a little hard on himself when he dismisses as tedious the more serious characters, who are the vehicles for the novel’s main, entangled love story: Hetta Carbury, Felix’s sister; Roger Carbury, their cousin and Hetta’s rejected lover; and Paul Montague, the young man Hetta loves. I thought Roger, in particular, was subtly handled. As a ruggedly honest country squire, the self-declared representative of old-fashioned values, his role initially seems to be that of moral antidote to “the way we live now.” Trollope is too clever for that, however. Although Roger is a mainly admirable character, he has his own flaws and snobberies and rigidities of judgment. The answer to the glittering corruption of the modern world is not a retreat into the old.
I could go on for pages here: this great, generous sprawl of a novel encompasses so many riches. I haven’t even mentioned the fabulous Winifred Hurtle, Paul’s complicating, spirited former love interest, nor the scheming, amoral, but not entirely unendearing would-be author Lady Carbury, Felix and Hetta’s mother. It is a sign of Trollope’s quality that he can even carry off fairly well a sub-plot involving a couple of Suffolk rustics, Ruby Ruggles and John Crumb, whose comic names and dialect-tinged speech made me initially fear some cringeably patronizing “let’s laugh at the peasantry” comic business. (One detail that struck me: domestic violence against women features in the stories of Ruby, of Lady Carbury, and of Marie Melmotte, in all cases sympathetically treated. That is a theme I don’t remember coming up explicitly in many other Victorian novels, with the exception of Wilkie Collins’s Man and Wife.)
A word of advice, to end with, for anyone tempted to try this novel: I was lured into reading it by watching an excellent 2001 BBC dramatization, which achieves the impressive feat of compressing its four hundred thousand-odd words into a mere four episodes. It didn’t spoil the novel for me that I knew the plot before I started (it’s not the kind of work that depends crucially on suspense), and it was a pleasure to read it with Andrew Suchet’s and Shirley’s Henderson’s unforgettable incarnations of Augustus and Marie Melmotte stamped on my mind.
I was always rather suspicious about this book when I read about its subject matter. I knew it was about a parvenu financier of suspiciously foreign origins, who was supposed to embody the corruption of the modern world; and I imagined it would be rather conservative and xenophobic in its values. In fact, it’s nothing of the kind. It’s the aristocratic Londoners who allow themselves to be bewitched by Augustus Melmotte’s dubiously-acquired lucre who come in for the keenest of Trollope’s satirical barbs. Melmotte himself, though certainly a monster, is allowed to acquire a certain tragic grandeur in his painfully protracted fall from grace. His illegitimate daughter Marie, meanwhile, who spends most of the novel being dangled as prey for impecunious titled fortune-hunters, finishes up as a splendid, scene-stealing, table-turning heroine—for me the standout character of the book.
The chief moral theme of TWWLN, as identified by Trollope in his autobiography, is the disturbingly contemporary one of the corrosive social effects of dishonesty when gilded by wealth and power. London in the 1870s is portrayed here as feverishly enthralled to money and disinclined to earn it by any form of solid labor. Melmotte’s dangerous games with the stock market are mirrored in the hapless, addictive gambling of the rabble of young London toffs who meet nightly in a louche club, the Beargarden—a brilliantly rendered comic location. In one tellingly symbolic scene, the handsome but rankly feckless anti-hero Sir Felix Carbury trades a fistful of worthless Beargarden IOUs for an equally nebulous handful of Melmotte’s mysteriously managed Mexican railway shares.
I broadly agree with Trollope’s own judgment that “the interest of the book lies with its wicked and foolish characters,” but I think he is a little hard on himself when he dismisses as tedious the more serious characters, who are the vehicles for the novel’s main, entangled love story: Hetta Carbury, Felix’s sister; Roger Carbury, their cousin and Hetta’s rejected lover; and Paul Montague, the young man Hetta loves. I thought Roger, in particular, was subtly handled. As a ruggedly honest country squire, the self-declared representative of old-fashioned values, his role initially seems to be that of moral antidote to “the way we live now.” Trollope is too clever for that, however. Although Roger is a mainly admirable character, he has his own flaws and snobberies and rigidities of judgment. The answer to the glittering corruption of the modern world is not a retreat into the old.
I could go on for pages here: this great, generous sprawl of a novel encompasses so many riches. I haven’t even mentioned the fabulous Winifred Hurtle, Paul’s complicating, spirited former love interest, nor the scheming, amoral, but not entirely unendearing would-be author Lady Carbury, Felix and Hetta’s mother. It is a sign of Trollope’s quality that he can even carry off fairly well a sub-plot involving a couple of Suffolk rustics, Ruby Ruggles and John Crumb, whose comic names and dialect-tinged speech made me initially fear some cringeably patronizing “let’s laugh at the peasantry” comic business. (One detail that struck me: domestic violence against women features in the stories of Ruby, of Lady Carbury, and of Marie Melmotte, in all cases sympathetically treated. That is a theme I don’t remember coming up explicitly in many other Victorian novels, with the exception of Wilkie Collins’s Man and Wife.)
A word of advice, to end with, for anyone tempted to try this novel: I was lured into reading it by watching an excellent 2001 BBC dramatization, which achieves the impressive feat of compressing its four hundred thousand-odd words into a mere four episodes. It didn’t spoil the novel for me that I knew the plot before I started (it’s not the kind of work that depends crucially on suspense), and it was a pleasure to read it with Andrew Suchet’s and Shirley’s Henderson’s unforgettable incarnations of Augustus and Marie Melmotte stamped on my mind.
July 19, 2017
“Who does not know that sudden thoughtfulness at waking, that first matutinal retrospection, and prospection, into things as they have been and are to be; and the lowness of the heart, the blankness of hope which follows the first remembrance of some folly lately done, some word ill-spoken, some money misspent - or perhaps a cigar too much, or a glass of brandy and soda-water which he should have left untasted? And when things have gone well, how the waker comforts himself among the bedclothes as he claims for himself to be whole all over, teres atque rotundus - so to have managed his little affairs that he has to fear no harm, and to blush inwardly at no error!”
It took me a long time to write about this amazing book that I read about five months ago, but I am finally made the effort and rescued a rare inspiration to write a few lines with my thoughts. Better later than never.
With a satirical wit, Anthony Trollope creates in The Way We Live Now a fantastic melodrama with a large and rich cast of characters that together depict a scene of greed as corruption abounds; while plots of marital intrigue thrive, as pretty much everyone is trying to get married. Trollope’s characters are each and every one of them different, as it is in real life. As we read we discover that many are despicable, some are greedy; while many others are naive and sweet, or simply vulnerable and weak. It is a fact that his views on people led to a creation where just a few are noble.
Reading The Way We Live Now, I realized that what makes this book great are its amazing characters, its dozen subplots, and a biting satirical wit. Players, large and small, all wind up being interconnected in some way, as Trollope applied what he saw as greed, the pursuit of social connections and lack of class evident in London of his time.
There is no doubt that Trollope's' melodrama gifts us here with an amazing insight into human nature, that has not changed much with the passing of time.
Highly recommended.
July 10, 2019
This is TWWLN. We have Augustus Melmotte, a tinpot proto-Trump, weaselling his malign mannerless ass into power and parliament. We have heaven-kissed moral fulcrum Roger Carbury, with his pathological jonesing to shag his boring cousin. We have Hetty Carbury, the boring cousin with no life prospects other than choosing which dullard will knock her up. We have Lady Carbury, a novelist whose efforts are roundly patronised and trampled upon by the critic Mr Alf, and the author, whom one suspects has no truck for femmes who scribe. We have Sir Felix Carbury, a booze-soaked wastrel fond of spaffing sovereigns up the wall and trying to marry semi-French heiresses. We have Marie Melmotte and Ruby Ruggles, two unsexed lasses besotted with the stunning handsomeness of the boozing Sir, both of whom sacrifice parental tolerance in favour of elopement plots and rape attempts. We have Georgiana Longstaffe, the unfortunate unwedded sister, whose expectations have slunk so low, she considers an obese Jewish banker (cue the sort of antisemitism that would make Jeremy Corbyn blush). We have Paul Montague, the sort of lifeless one usually played by Matthew Macfadyen. We have John Crumb, an intolerable rustic obsessed with the orphaned cretin Ruby Ruggles. We have Mrs Hurtle, the wildcat American with BPD who shot a man in Reno just to watch him die. This is no Vanity Fair, people, but as Victorian monstrosities fare, this is a five-star whanger. Read me.
April 27, 2017
Not just the way they lived in Britain in 1873, but the way we live now in 2017 America. Trollop wrote with sharp satiric intent about
a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent in its proportions, and climbing into high places, [that] has become at the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all its walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into Parliament, and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel.Speculators grown great with rampant fraud at the highest levels of finance; writers and newspaper editors peddling influence for favorable stories; politicians buying businessmen and businessmen buying power; women buying position through marriage; wealthy young people who refuse all responsibility and waste both time and substance on frivolity. Read this and wonder at how painfully familiar, how very timely it all seems.
October 15, 2008
I first read this book back in... hmm... 1998? 1999? Loved it, and was inspired to pull it off the shelf for a re-read in light of the unfolding financial collapse/bail-out. Everything I read about Wall Street firms reminds me of the 4 guys gambling in their private club, the "Beargarden" -- crazy web of credits and worthless IOUs, all the players betting money they don't have, each one making his bets based on what the others owe him, and no prospect of them ever being sufficiently sober and "in funds" to settle up. And if a sober outsider should join their game with cash in hand, the 4 of them quickly fleece him of his ready money. The game can't go on without periodic rescues by the useful Herr Vossner, who when called on will buy out the unbacked IOUs at high interest.
And of course the players never, never pay their tailors or bootmakers... that almost goes without saying... all their resources go into the game, and the workers and vendors have to take endlessly deferred credit or nothing.
The amazing thing is that Trollope was SATIRIZING the outrageous personal/familial irresponsibility of upper-class youth.... perhaps even Trollope would be surprised to see how our venerable and allegedly regulated banks and financial institutions have turned into a global Beargarden, gambling with the wealth of the entire country.
THE WAY WE LIVE NOW, indeed.
And of course the players never, never pay their tailors or bootmakers... that almost goes without saying... all their resources go into the game, and the workers and vendors have to take endlessly deferred credit or nothing.
The amazing thing is that Trollope was SATIRIZING the outrageous personal/familial irresponsibility of upper-class youth.... perhaps even Trollope would be surprised to see how our venerable and allegedly regulated banks and financial institutions have turned into a global Beargarden, gambling with the wealth of the entire country.
THE WAY WE LIVE NOW, indeed.
September 25, 2016
I have listened to half and I cannot stand it any more. Endlessly long and boring. If you have read one Trollope, you really needn't read more. The same themes are repeated over and over and over again. The same humor repeated umpteen times just isn't funny any more. Let me be clear, read one Trollope and you'll laugh. Read more and you will start to be bored.
What is this book about? The importance of money and social standing. Who will marry who? It is a given that women have no choice but to marry. It is Victorian England of the1870s. What was Trollope's message? Greed and lying permeated all aspects of life: morals, politics and business.
In this book I enjoyed only one character: Georgiana Longestaffe. She had spunk, but I needed much more of her! She reminded me of Lady Glencora in the Palliser series: https://www.goodreads.com/series/5362...
The narration of the audiobook by Timothy West is absolutely excellent.
The Palliser series:
Can You Forgive Her? 3 stars
Phineas Finn 4 stars
Stand-alone:
Sir Harry Hotspur Of Humblethwaite 2 stars
*********************************
This is the Audible.co.uk Daily Deal today - Sept 4, 2016! Today it costs only 2.99pounds. Gosh, I guess I will have to pick it up now. That means also I must read it soon too.
I am thinking "Another book about money?!" It is just that every time I read Trollope he never fails to make me laugh. Humor is good.
What is this book about? The importance of money and social standing. Who will marry who? It is a given that women have no choice but to marry. It is Victorian England of the1870s. What was Trollope's message? Greed and lying permeated all aspects of life: morals, politics and business.
In this book I enjoyed only one character: Georgiana Longestaffe. She had spunk, but I needed much more of her! She reminded me of Lady Glencora in the Palliser series: https://www.goodreads.com/series/5362...
The narration of the audiobook by Timothy West is absolutely excellent.
The Palliser series:
Can You Forgive Her? 3 stars
Phineas Finn 4 stars
Stand-alone:
Sir Harry Hotspur Of Humblethwaite 2 stars
*********************************
This is the Audible.co.uk Daily Deal today - Sept 4, 2016! Today it costs only 2.99pounds. Gosh, I guess I will have to pick it up now. That means also I must read it soon too.
I am thinking "Another book about money?!" It is just that every time I read Trollope he never fails to make me laugh. Humor is good.
Read
November 13, 2022I think it’s fairly well known by Trollope readers what he said about this book: he came back to England after a long trip (which included San Francisco) to discover how sordidly his fellow countrymen delved into shady financial shenanigans. Morality, he felt, went right out the window if the fortunes were high enough.
And so he set out to write a satire.
Trollope is one of those authors whose novels make absorbing reading, but who never quite attain greatness. His contemporaries scorned him, especially after his autobiography came out, in which he claimed that the ticket to success was getting your daily wordcount done. Well, obviously he was no artiste!
In the 20th century some critics have maintained that this is his greatest work, even his masterpiece—a word that gets thrown around a lot, like the word ‘classic.’ I’m not willing to define what is, or is not, a masterpiece, but I do think that this book serves as an excellent example of why I think Trollope at his best is eminently readable, but does not transcend that mysterious boundary into greatness.
I can look past the unexamined colonial superiority--that was the paradigm of the time. Ditto his profound ignorance of Chinese history and culture, and of dialects. Satire means a certain amount of distortion, behind which ignorance can hide behind.
Spoilers are going to be legion.
The book opens with Lady Carbury, a female writer, having penned a non-fiction book called Criminal Queens, setting out to beg, plead, and flatter the three primary critics in London literary circles into praising her book in order to boost sales. Each letter is tailored to its recipient, after which we get a disquisition about the editors in such a way that I suspect not only were specific periodicals or newspapers of Trollope’s time being lampooned, but maybe even specific editors.
There is a lot in this book about the hypocrisies and phonies and egos of the literary world. And the political world. And the financial world. And above all, the world of the beau monde. The book apparently was savaged by early reviewers. When I got to passages in which a couple of young ladies negotiate favors for introduction into high society circles couched in the crass language of business barter, I thought, Trollope is channeling Thackeray.
But Thackeray’s sometimes vulgar satire fit an earlier, less “refined” age. I suspect that the lampooning of high society on just about every level (including its comfortably unexamined anti-Semitism) did not sit well at all with the 1870s audiences who very much liked to read about doings among the noble ranks. This is no silver fork novel, though it partly engages the London season, exclusive clubs, Parliament, and duchesses.
Trollope does a splendid job here, especially with details like the grandson of an ancient marquis who cheats at cards, and whose peers have no idea what to do about it. They don't want to rock their comfortable boat, though all aware aware it is leaking like a sieve. (As one of them says toward the end of the book, when they try to rejuvenate their club, that they must simply find a fellow and ask him how much he's going to steal from them above and beyond his salary, so everyone knows what to expect.)
So why isn’t it great? I think that halfway through Trollope gradually began to alter what kind of book it was. The satire becomes more fitful, the sharp point more diffuse. Lady Carbury, our bad writer (who may or may not have initially been based on Trollope’s remarkable mother Frances Trollope, a famous writer who earned her living by the pen) gradually becomes less a satiric and more a pitiful figure as her beautiful-but-rotten son Sir Felix descends inexorably into infamy, until at last she submits to the will of one of her admirers, and is rewarded with marriage. Likewise the second half furnishes more palatable endings for the deserving secondary characters than one might find in a satire; Vanity Fair, for example, never errs on the side of mercy.
I actually have no problem with characters getting happy endings, or deserving endings. My problem is that Trollope waffles, always in the direction of convention. For example, he takes a good whack at anti-Semitism, and yet his Jewish characters are still singled out with opprobious adjectives such “greasy.” This word appears several times, and is especially egregious given that Trollope was writing at the height of the antimacassar period: everybody was greasy, dukes and watermen alike, from their well-oiled mustaches to their shiny hair leaning against those lace doilies protecting the backs of chairs.
But far more important than that, though Trollope demonstrates his skill at creating interesting, even complex characters, he is unable to resist forcing them firmly into well-grooved channels in order to prove his lifelong point, that heroines—good women—deserve happy endings only when they passively fall in love (once and only once) after the gentleman has hinted that he is in love with her.
At the beginning of what I believe was meant to be read as a comic side-story, in country girl Ruby Ruggles’ struggle for independence (which nearly ruins her) there occurs what I think sums up Trollope’s attitude toward women when he says about her: Poor Ruby Ruggles, who was left to be so much mistress of herself at the time of her life in which she most required the kindness of a controlling hand!
A controlling hand! Ruby at this time is 23, not 13.
It’s not just that Trollope is a proponent of the Victorian “angel in the home” attitude toward women. Which he is. Over and over in his books Trollope rides his particular hobby horse, affirming that women who have been in love more than once, unless they are genuine widows, are tainted—soiled goods—unworthy of a good man’s love. (This is not true, needless to say, of men.) Mrs. Hurtle, the American adventuress, we are to understand is unmarriagable by the insufferable hero Paul Montague because she either murdered or divorced her abusive drunk of a husband. Oh, and she traveled with Paul without benefit of chaperone. Taint! Taint!
It’s perfectly okay for Paul to promise to marry her, then dump her for nineteen year old (and oh so pure) Hetta Carbury. In fact, the whole Paul/Hetta/Roger/Mrs. Hurtle quadrangle is one of the longest and most irritatingly boring threads in the entire book full of otherwise delightful characters.
Hetta is frustratingly passive until near the end; her otherwise interesting, though stolid, cousin Roger becomes tiresome in his constantly reiterated statement that he will never fall in love with any other woman if Hetta won’t marry him (he’s near forty, she’s nineteen), and Paul and Mrs. Hurtle argue exhaustively in circles as she practices her feminine wiles to bring him back to her side, until the very end. I began to wonder as yet another long, long argument between these two commenced if Trollope in some wise was arguing with himself, testing out various theories before firmly wrenching the characters' emotional truths right back to his inescapable conviction.
Finally, after she does a series of good turns to a host of characters, Mrs. Hurtle gives up and returns to America. Where, I fervently hope, she found someone more interesting than Paul. It wouldn’t be hard.
Much more interesting are the other characters, like the comically useless clubmen (I wonder if the Beargarden was P.G. Wodehouse’s model for the Drones Club), but especially the mysterious financier Augustus Melmotte, whose financial schemes are at the center of the book. Of shady background, he is a perfect example of the Bernie Madoff/Koch Brothers amoral financial pirate. In those days, it was railroad schemes and gilt-edged stocks: how the supposed leaders of politics and society found reasons, however spurious, to kowtow to those with money (while busily slandering them behind their backs) is a scene that should read depressingly familiar to today’s citizen.
In the middle of Trollope's skillful demonstration of how great wealth distorts everything in its vicinity, Melmotte’s daughter Marie nearly walks away with the book. In someone else’s hands—someone not quite so obsessed with female “purity”—this might have been a terrific book, with Marie Melmotte as its center, as she goes from gutter rat to being courted by duke’s sons to embarking for a life on the wild west coast, having gained at bitter cost an impressive sense of how big business is conducted. But alas, Trollope shoves her to one side and keeps the focus firmly on conventional Hetta and her two honorable swains, their emotional lives carefully tailored to fit Trollope's pet theory.
Bringing to a close a book I thought readable and wonderful in places, but . . . . finally not one of the enduring greats.
And so he set out to write a satire.
Trollope is one of those authors whose novels make absorbing reading, but who never quite attain greatness. His contemporaries scorned him, especially after his autobiography came out, in which he claimed that the ticket to success was getting your daily wordcount done. Well, obviously he was no artiste!
In the 20th century some critics have maintained that this is his greatest work, even his masterpiece—a word that gets thrown around a lot, like the word ‘classic.’ I’m not willing to define what is, or is not, a masterpiece, but I do think that this book serves as an excellent example of why I think Trollope at his best is eminently readable, but does not transcend that mysterious boundary into greatness.
I can look past the unexamined colonial superiority--that was the paradigm of the time. Ditto his profound ignorance of Chinese history and culture, and of dialects. Satire means a certain amount of distortion, behind which ignorance can hide behind.
Spoilers are going to be legion.
The book opens with Lady Carbury, a female writer, having penned a non-fiction book called Criminal Queens, setting out to beg, plead, and flatter the three primary critics in London literary circles into praising her book in order to boost sales. Each letter is tailored to its recipient, after which we get a disquisition about the editors in such a way that I suspect not only were specific periodicals or newspapers of Trollope’s time being lampooned, but maybe even specific editors.
There is a lot in this book about the hypocrisies and phonies and egos of the literary world. And the political world. And the financial world. And above all, the world of the beau monde. The book apparently was savaged by early reviewers. When I got to passages in which a couple of young ladies negotiate favors for introduction into high society circles couched in the crass language of business barter, I thought, Trollope is channeling Thackeray.
But Thackeray’s sometimes vulgar satire fit an earlier, less “refined” age. I suspect that the lampooning of high society on just about every level (including its comfortably unexamined anti-Semitism) did not sit well at all with the 1870s audiences who very much liked to read about doings among the noble ranks. This is no silver fork novel, though it partly engages the London season, exclusive clubs, Parliament, and duchesses.
Trollope does a splendid job here, especially with details like the grandson of an ancient marquis who cheats at cards, and whose peers have no idea what to do about it. They don't want to rock their comfortable boat, though all aware aware it is leaking like a sieve. (As one of them says toward the end of the book, when they try to rejuvenate their club, that they must simply find a fellow and ask him how much he's going to steal from them above and beyond his salary, so everyone knows what to expect.)
So why isn’t it great? I think that halfway through Trollope gradually began to alter what kind of book it was. The satire becomes more fitful, the sharp point more diffuse. Lady Carbury, our bad writer (who may or may not have initially been based on Trollope’s remarkable mother Frances Trollope, a famous writer who earned her living by the pen) gradually becomes less a satiric and more a pitiful figure as her beautiful-but-rotten son Sir Felix descends inexorably into infamy, until at last she submits to the will of one of her admirers, and is rewarded with marriage. Likewise the second half furnishes more palatable endings for the deserving secondary characters than one might find in a satire; Vanity Fair, for example, never errs on the side of mercy.
I actually have no problem with characters getting happy endings, or deserving endings. My problem is that Trollope waffles, always in the direction of convention. For example, he takes a good whack at anti-Semitism, and yet his Jewish characters are still singled out with opprobious adjectives such “greasy.” This word appears several times, and is especially egregious given that Trollope was writing at the height of the antimacassar period: everybody was greasy, dukes and watermen alike, from their well-oiled mustaches to their shiny hair leaning against those lace doilies protecting the backs of chairs.
But far more important than that, though Trollope demonstrates his skill at creating interesting, even complex characters, he is unable to resist forcing them firmly into well-grooved channels in order to prove his lifelong point, that heroines—good women—deserve happy endings only when they passively fall in love (once and only once) after the gentleman has hinted that he is in love with her.
At the beginning of what I believe was meant to be read as a comic side-story, in country girl Ruby Ruggles’ struggle for independence (which nearly ruins her) there occurs what I think sums up Trollope’s attitude toward women when he says about her: Poor Ruby Ruggles, who was left to be so much mistress of herself at the time of her life in which she most required the kindness of a controlling hand!
A controlling hand! Ruby at this time is 23, not 13.
It’s not just that Trollope is a proponent of the Victorian “angel in the home” attitude toward women. Which he is. Over and over in his books Trollope rides his particular hobby horse, affirming that women who have been in love more than once, unless they are genuine widows, are tainted—soiled goods—unworthy of a good man’s love. (This is not true, needless to say, of men.) Mrs. Hurtle, the American adventuress, we are to understand is unmarriagable by the insufferable hero Paul Montague because she either murdered or divorced her abusive drunk of a husband. Oh, and she traveled with Paul without benefit of chaperone. Taint! Taint!
It’s perfectly okay for Paul to promise to marry her, then dump her for nineteen year old (and oh so pure) Hetta Carbury. In fact, the whole Paul/Hetta/Roger/Mrs. Hurtle quadrangle is one of the longest and most irritatingly boring threads in the entire book full of otherwise delightful characters.
Hetta is frustratingly passive until near the end; her otherwise interesting, though stolid, cousin Roger becomes tiresome in his constantly reiterated statement that he will never fall in love with any other woman if Hetta won’t marry him (he’s near forty, she’s nineteen), and Paul and Mrs. Hurtle argue exhaustively in circles as she practices her feminine wiles to bring him back to her side, until the very end. I began to wonder as yet another long, long argument between these two commenced if Trollope in some wise was arguing with himself, testing out various theories before firmly wrenching the characters' emotional truths right back to his inescapable conviction.
Finally, after she does a series of good turns to a host of characters, Mrs. Hurtle gives up and returns to America. Where, I fervently hope, she found someone more interesting than Paul. It wouldn’t be hard.
Much more interesting are the other characters, like the comically useless clubmen (I wonder if the Beargarden was P.G. Wodehouse’s model for the Drones Club), but especially the mysterious financier Augustus Melmotte, whose financial schemes are at the center of the book. Of shady background, he is a perfect example of the Bernie Madoff/Koch Brothers amoral financial pirate. In those days, it was railroad schemes and gilt-edged stocks: how the supposed leaders of politics and society found reasons, however spurious, to kowtow to those with money (while busily slandering them behind their backs) is a scene that should read depressingly familiar to today’s citizen.
In the middle of Trollope's skillful demonstration of how great wealth distorts everything in its vicinity, Melmotte’s daughter Marie nearly walks away with the book. In someone else’s hands—someone not quite so obsessed with female “purity”—this might have been a terrific book, with Marie Melmotte as its center, as she goes from gutter rat to being courted by duke’s sons to embarking for a life on the wild west coast, having gained at bitter cost an impressive sense of how big business is conducted. But alas, Trollope shoves her to one side and keeps the focus firmly on conventional Hetta and her two honorable swains, their emotional lives carefully tailored to fit Trollope's pet theory.
Bringing to a close a book I thought readable and wonderful in places, but . . . . finally not one of the enduring greats.
April 19, 2024
This is Anthony Trollope in peak cerebral mode, brilliantly calling out society’s worship of money, its unfair treatment of women, and its antisemitism. He develops perfect characters to illustrate each of these social evils and uses them to analyze why these aspects of Victorian society and culture are morally wrong. For money worship, Trollope gives us a “gigantic swindler” and “great financier” who lacks morals and who never pays people what he owes them, but who is nevertheless revered by nearly everyone, simply because he is rich. This conman is arrogant, vulgar, and ignorant (never reads). And, despite being apolitical, he runs for parliament.
“It seemed that there was but one virtue in the world, commercial enterprise—and that [he] was its prophet.” (p. 359)
“No one pretends to think that he is a gentleman. There is a consciousness among all who speak of him that he amasses his money not by honest trade, but by unknown tricks, as does a card sharper … But because he has learned the art of making money, we not only put up with him, but settle upon his carcass as so many birds of prey” (p. 122)
To illustrate the cruelness and unfairness of society’s treatment of women, Trollop gives us several unforgettable characters, the most notable of which is an American woman who was once married, who had to stand up for herself in the past, who was engaged to a leading man in the story, and who may suffer ostracization and heartbreak, and be disqualified from everyone’s consideration, simply because she is insufficiently feminine.
“Or is it that you are afraid to have by your side a woman who can speak for herself—and even act for herself if some action is necessary?” (p. 390)
“But when a woman has no one to help her, is she to bear everything without turning upon those who ill-use her? Shall a woman be flayed alive because it is unfeminine in her to fight for her own skin? What is the good of being—feminine, as you call it?” (p. 422)
To attack antisemitism, Trollope makes one of the most honorable and brightest characters in the story a Jew, puts him in a relationship with a woman who is not Jewish, and then shows the consequences that follow and how unreasonable and immoral they are:
“You are degraded and disgraced; but you shall not degrade and disgrace me and your mother and sister.” (p. 536)
Along the way, Trollope gives us several wonderfully complicated characters, such as a woman who is “false from head to foot” (p. 17) but who is also a devoted and loving mother, at least to some of her children. And to that deceitful but caring mother, Trollope gives a sociopathic son—a character who is self-centered, impulsive, and utterly lacking in empathy or love.
“He would ruin you and cast you from him without a pang of remorse. He has no heart in his bosom; —none.” (p. 357)
“A child has such a hold upon his mother. When her reason has bade her to condemn him, her heart will not let her carry out the sentence.” (p. 526)
Within this novel is one of my favorite Trollope quotes. It illustrates his genius, showing that he saw, even so long ago, the trends that contemporary scholars, such as Steven Pinker, have only recently confirmed.
“I think that men on the whole do live better lives than they did a hundred years ago. There is a wider spirit of justice abroad, more of mercy from one to another, a more lively charity, and if less of religious enthusiasm, less also of superstition … Of course I speak of men in general. Taking society as a whole, the big and the little, the rich and the poor, I think that it grows better from year to year, and not worse. I think, too, that they who grumble at the times, as Horace did, and declare that each ag is worse that its forerunner, look only at the small things beneath their eyes, and ignore the course of the world at large.”
A recent article in the prestigious general science journal, Nature, confirms Trollope’s argument about the myth of moral decline:
https://www.nature.com/articles/s4158...
Other Memorable Quotes:
“It is astonishing how little we know of our neighbours.” (p. 137)
“Whatever be the misery to be endured, get it over. The horror of every agony is in its anticipation.” (p. 324)
“Among the holy things which did exist to gild this every-day unholy world, love was the holist.” (p. 543)
“The world is too rough and too hard for people to allow their feelings full play.” (p. 692)
“Who were the happy people that were driven neither by ambition, nor poverty, nor greed, nor the cross purposes of unhappy love, to stifle and trample upon their feelings? She had known no one so blessed” (p. 745)
“It is a poor time we women have—is it not—in becoming playthings to men?” (p. 749)
“Gentleman’s hearts are things very much to be doubted as far as I’ve seen ‘em. I don’t think many of ‘em have ‘em at all.” (p. 807)
“It seemed that there was but one virtue in the world, commercial enterprise—and that [he] was its prophet.” (p. 359)
“No one pretends to think that he is a gentleman. There is a consciousness among all who speak of him that he amasses his money not by honest trade, but by unknown tricks, as does a card sharper … But because he has learned the art of making money, we not only put up with him, but settle upon his carcass as so many birds of prey” (p. 122)
To illustrate the cruelness and unfairness of society’s treatment of women, Trollop gives us several unforgettable characters, the most notable of which is an American woman who was once married, who had to stand up for herself in the past, who was engaged to a leading man in the story, and who may suffer ostracization and heartbreak, and be disqualified from everyone’s consideration, simply because she is insufficiently feminine.
“Or is it that you are afraid to have by your side a woman who can speak for herself—and even act for herself if some action is necessary?” (p. 390)
“But when a woman has no one to help her, is she to bear everything without turning upon those who ill-use her? Shall a woman be flayed alive because it is unfeminine in her to fight for her own skin? What is the good of being—feminine, as you call it?” (p. 422)
To attack antisemitism, Trollope makes one of the most honorable and brightest characters in the story a Jew, puts him in a relationship with a woman who is not Jewish, and then shows the consequences that follow and how unreasonable and immoral they are:
“You are degraded and disgraced; but you shall not degrade and disgrace me and your mother and sister.” (p. 536)
Along the way, Trollope gives us several wonderfully complicated characters, such as a woman who is “false from head to foot” (p. 17) but who is also a devoted and loving mother, at least to some of her children. And to that deceitful but caring mother, Trollope gives a sociopathic son—a character who is self-centered, impulsive, and utterly lacking in empathy or love.
“He would ruin you and cast you from him without a pang of remorse. He has no heart in his bosom; —none.” (p. 357)
“A child has such a hold upon his mother. When her reason has bade her to condemn him, her heart will not let her carry out the sentence.” (p. 526)
Within this novel is one of my favorite Trollope quotes. It illustrates his genius, showing that he saw, even so long ago, the trends that contemporary scholars, such as Steven Pinker, have only recently confirmed.
“I think that men on the whole do live better lives than they did a hundred years ago. There is a wider spirit of justice abroad, more of mercy from one to another, a more lively charity, and if less of religious enthusiasm, less also of superstition … Of course I speak of men in general. Taking society as a whole, the big and the little, the rich and the poor, I think that it grows better from year to year, and not worse. I think, too, that they who grumble at the times, as Horace did, and declare that each ag is worse that its forerunner, look only at the small things beneath their eyes, and ignore the course of the world at large.”
A recent article in the prestigious general science journal, Nature, confirms Trollope’s argument about the myth of moral decline:
https://www.nature.com/articles/s4158...
Other Memorable Quotes:
“It is astonishing how little we know of our neighbours.” (p. 137)
“Whatever be the misery to be endured, get it over. The horror of every agony is in its anticipation.” (p. 324)
“Among the holy things which did exist to gild this every-day unholy world, love was the holist.” (p. 543)
“The world is too rough and too hard for people to allow their feelings full play.” (p. 692)
“Who were the happy people that were driven neither by ambition, nor poverty, nor greed, nor the cross purposes of unhappy love, to stifle and trample upon their feelings? She had known no one so blessed” (p. 745)
“It is a poor time we women have—is it not—in becoming playthings to men?” (p. 749)
“Gentleman’s hearts are things very much to be doubted as far as I’ve seen ‘em. I don’t think many of ‘em have ‘em at all.” (p. 807)
March 1, 2020
Me parece impresionante que esta novela tenga casi 150 años, porque algunos de los temas que trata son increíblemente actuales. En especial el pasteleo en el mundo editorial y, por supuesto, el mundo financiero, con sus especulaciones y sus burbujas, y el hecho de que su diferenciación con un timo puro y duro está en que se caiga el chiringuito. Y el chiringuito solo se cae si la gente cree que debe caer. Es un poco como magia.
La cuestión es que toda la trama de Melmotte y cómo se convierte en un gran personaje en la City se podría transplantar al día de hoy y no habría muchas diferencias. Lo difícil es llegar a ciertos círculos, pero una vez llegas, es bastante fácil conseguir financiación sin tener ni un duro en el bolsillo. La gente con dinero se fía de que tienes dinero y con eso basta. El juego de cartas al que juegan los jóvenes en el Beargarden funciona muy bien como metáfora de ese mundo: pagan sus deudas con pagarés cuyo valor se basa en la palabra de esas personas de pagar, pero sabemos que varios de ellos no pueden pagarse porque muchos de ellos no tienen dónde caerse muertos.
Hay un gran componente moral en esta novela que el narrador (que es el propio escritor) deja claro, porque no se corta en dar su opinión, como si fuera Stan Lee en los antiguos cómics de Marvel. Aún así hay varias instancias donde no sé muy bien de qué pie cojea. Por supuesto, este comentario moral chirría más en conceptos como las relaciones amorosas entre hombres y mujeres. Creo que hay cierta sorna en esa opinión de que "antes las cosas no se hacían así" (con la señora Pipkin diciéndolo, para luego admitir que por supuesto que se besuqueaban con chicos, pero a espaldas de sus padres), pero al mismo tiempo, a ojos de hoy, es una visión conservadora. Como una obra publicada por partes, tiene partes de folletín, parte de triángulos amorosos obligatorios, incluso parte de introducir personajes de clases más "humildes" para darle un carácter más popular y que puediera ser leído por más personas (lo de crear historias populares "para todos los públicos" no es algo que se inventara ayer). Es gracioso, porque la novela tiene un número de "shippeos" bastante alto.
Se hace un tanto pesado a veces (aprecié la retranca del narrador, pero a veces el tonito de sermón se notaba demasiado) y es más largo de lo que debería (podría perfectamente perder un par de tramas y al menos 200 páginas), pero creo que se lee a buen ritmo y es fascinante lo poco que han cambiado ciertas cosas. Cómo este libro podría transcurrir durante la crisis de 2008, por ejemplo. Sí, eso es un poco deprimente, pero al mismo tiempo consigue que su lectura resulte interesante.
La cuestión es que toda la trama de Melmotte y cómo se convierte en un gran personaje en la City se podría transplantar al día de hoy y no habría muchas diferencias. Lo difícil es llegar a ciertos círculos, pero una vez llegas, es bastante fácil conseguir financiación sin tener ni un duro en el bolsillo. La gente con dinero se fía de que tienes dinero y con eso basta. El juego de cartas al que juegan los jóvenes en el Beargarden funciona muy bien como metáfora de ese mundo: pagan sus deudas con pagarés cuyo valor se basa en la palabra de esas personas de pagar, pero sabemos que varios de ellos no pueden pagarse porque muchos de ellos no tienen dónde caerse muertos.
Hay un gran componente moral en esta novela que el narrador (que es el propio escritor) deja claro, porque no se corta en dar su opinión, como si fuera Stan Lee en los antiguos cómics de Marvel. Aún así hay varias instancias donde no sé muy bien de qué pie cojea. Por supuesto, este comentario moral chirría más en conceptos como las relaciones amorosas entre hombres y mujeres. Creo que hay cierta sorna en esa opinión de que "antes las cosas no se hacían así" (con la señora Pipkin diciéndolo, para luego admitir que por supuesto que se besuqueaban con chicos, pero a espaldas de sus padres), pero al mismo tiempo, a ojos de hoy, es una visión conservadora. Como una obra publicada por partes, tiene partes de folletín, parte de triángulos amorosos obligatorios, incluso parte de introducir personajes de clases más "humildes" para darle un carácter más popular y que puediera ser leído por más personas (lo de crear historias populares "para todos los públicos" no es algo que se inventara ayer). Es gracioso, porque la novela tiene un número de "shippeos" bastante alto.
Se hace un tanto pesado a veces (aprecié la retranca del narrador, pero a veces el tonito de sermón se notaba demasiado) y es más largo de lo que debería (podría perfectamente perder un par de tramas y al menos 200 páginas), pero creo que se lee a buen ritmo y es fascinante lo poco que han cambiado ciertas cosas. Cómo este libro podría transcurrir durante la crisis de 2008, por ejemplo. Sí, eso es un poco deprimente, pero al mismo tiempo consigue que su lectura resulte interesante.
April 24, 2013
This an epic telling of the Victorian era business world of London, invaded by an outsider, one Mr Melmotte (of uncertain and questionable background) who proceeds to take this financial realm by storm. It is also the story of various marital contrivances and government parody, the nouveau riche and the newly poor gentry, seemingly based on who can make the best financial deal. And lest the Western Hemisphere feel left out, there is also a somewhat specious sounding investment scheme introduced by a California speculator. MONEY makes this world go round and the wish for it and the grasping after it. LOVE is a secondary concern but often it is a means for security.
Young men make engagements with various young women based on speculations of future income, then freely break said engagements and move on if the money seems doubtful. These same young men go to a club and gamble using each other's IOUs. The goal of investing is not to disclose what is being done with the money. Amazing that this was written in the 19th century. People really don't change.
Trollope's voice is a constant (and, I found, a pleasure) throughout the novel as he pins his characters like squirming insects for better examination and provides his wonderful sardonic comments on their actions (and lack thereof).
There is happiness for some, punishment for others, improved insight for others and continued drifting for many. All in all a really fun read but be prepared to settle in as it is a long book. (I took the slow road with it myself, which I don't believe harmed my enjoyment).
Young men make engagements with various young women based on speculations of future income, then freely break said engagements and move on if the money seems doubtful. These same young men go to a club and gamble using each other's IOUs. The goal of investing is not to disclose what is being done with the money. Amazing that this was written in the 19th century. People really don't change.
Trollope's voice is a constant (and, I found, a pleasure) throughout the novel as he pins his characters like squirming insects for better examination and provides his wonderful sardonic comments on their actions (and lack thereof).
There is happiness for some, punishment for others, improved insight for others and continued drifting for many. All in all a really fun read but be prepared to settle in as it is a long book. (I took the slow road with it myself, which I don't believe harmed my enjoyment).
April 15, 2018
Very long, but one of the most readable and enjoyable books I have completed in a long time. It is in many respects an analysis of society's greed and financial corruption, which is of course still relevant. The characters are also brilliantly drawn and I repeatedly saw in many of them aspects of many people I know.
September 4, 2022
3.75 stars
Even by Trollope’s standards this is a monumental tome, one of his longest novels. It is a satire, but it follows the typical Trollope structure. He introduces the main characters individually at the beginning and ties up all the loose ends at the end. As is often the case with Trollope the female characters are strong and many of the main male characters are villainous or a waste of space. Trollope had a particular purpose with this piece of satire in the early 1870s. He had been abroad for a while and returned to a number of financial scandals in high places. In his autobiography he outlines what prompted the novel:
“Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all its walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into Parliament, and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. Instigated, I say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down in my new house to write The Way We Live Now”
The plot is complex and multi-stranded and shows very clearly how financial corruption worked at the time. Melmotte is an effective villain with a hazy background, as I seem to remember, well portrayed by David Suchet in the TV adaptation from 2001. Melmotte sums up his villainy thus:
"Judging of himself, as though he were standing outside himself and looking on to another man's work, he pointed out to himself his own shortcomings...No idea ever crossed his mind of what might have been the result had he lived the life of an honest man. Though he was inquiring into himself as closely as he could, he never even told himself that he had been dishonest. Fraud and dishonesty had been the very principle of his life, and had so become a part of his blood and bones that even in this extremity of his misery he made no question within himself as to his right judgment in regard to them."
All of the young male aristocrats (Nidderdale, Felix Carbury, Dolly Longstaffe, Miles Grendall etc) are a complete waste of space. They do very little apart from gamble, hunt and waste money. Several of them do aspire to marry Marie Melmotte as she is said to be very rich because of her father. The real gamblers however are Melmotte and his cronies whose dealings in shares and property are shown up as their schemes unravel. Trollope points to the problems in financial dealings, speculation, the movement of capital and basing fortunes on insubstantial and often non-existent schemes. However Trollope’s remedy is, though cosy, also backward looking to a better time. The solution, for Trollope, as he disposes of the virulent capitalists (some of whom he sends to the US!) is a domestic cosiness in a sort of rural idyll (Suffolk in this instance). Looking at the contrast between Melmotte (villain) and Roger Carbury (a more heroic figure), both represent middle class anxieties and both are effectively out-manoeuvred by women. Melmotte by his daughter Marie, despite his abuse of her and Carbury by the woman he loves, Hetta, who loves someone else and resists pressure to conform.
Trollope does illustrate the difficulties women have in this society, as they seem to be oppressed by the demands of the men around them. They have no access to the centres of wealth that the men have. Trollope does give them a level of agency, but even one of the strongest women in the book (Mrs Hurtle) is still limited because she is in love with a man who does not love her. Trollope is essentially a reforming liberal and his solutions are necessarily limited. But Trollope does portray the clash between old and new cultures effectively. Many of the men are weak characters and the novel is about human weakness.
Of course there are issues. Any attempt at inter-class relationships are doomed. And those of the lower orders are virtuous and slow: caricatures (John Crumb). There is a touch of xenophobia about it all. Americans don’t come out of it very well and then there is the question of anti-Semitism. Melmotte’s origins are deliberately hazy, but many of his associates are Jewish. Croll’s conversations are deliberate caricatures of a way of speaking (switching w’s to v’s). When Breghert, a Jewish financier (described as “a fat, greasy man of fifty, conspicuous for hair-dye.”) proposes to a young English woman, her parents are horrified, despite his wealth. Trollope shows that their views are outdated. However unlike Eliot’s Daniel Deronda there is absolutely no spiritual side to the Jews in this novel. However Breghert is actually one of the few morally sound men in the novel. The usual analysis is that The Way We Live Now is anti-Semitic. I think this is too simplistic. I can’t exonerate Trollope entirely, he does show that the views of Georgina Longstaffe’s parents are out of date and the views reflected are the views of a typical Liberal of the time. However he does indulge in caricature (Croll) and Jewish characters are all involved in finance.
Trollope’s satire is effective and he makes his usual points about male/female relations, love and society. He does still make the point that the classes really should not mix when it comes to marriage.
Even by Trollope’s standards this is a monumental tome, one of his longest novels. It is a satire, but it follows the typical Trollope structure. He introduces the main characters individually at the beginning and ties up all the loose ends at the end. As is often the case with Trollope the female characters are strong and many of the main male characters are villainous or a waste of space. Trollope had a particular purpose with this piece of satire in the early 1870s. He had been abroad for a while and returned to a number of financial scandals in high places. In his autobiography he outlines what prompted the novel:
“Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all its walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into Parliament, and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. Instigated, I say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down in my new house to write The Way We Live Now”
The plot is complex and multi-stranded and shows very clearly how financial corruption worked at the time. Melmotte is an effective villain with a hazy background, as I seem to remember, well portrayed by David Suchet in the TV adaptation from 2001. Melmotte sums up his villainy thus:
"Judging of himself, as though he were standing outside himself and looking on to another man's work, he pointed out to himself his own shortcomings...No idea ever crossed his mind of what might have been the result had he lived the life of an honest man. Though he was inquiring into himself as closely as he could, he never even told himself that he had been dishonest. Fraud and dishonesty had been the very principle of his life, and had so become a part of his blood and bones that even in this extremity of his misery he made no question within himself as to his right judgment in regard to them."
All of the young male aristocrats (Nidderdale, Felix Carbury, Dolly Longstaffe, Miles Grendall etc) are a complete waste of space. They do very little apart from gamble, hunt and waste money. Several of them do aspire to marry Marie Melmotte as she is said to be very rich because of her father. The real gamblers however are Melmotte and his cronies whose dealings in shares and property are shown up as their schemes unravel. Trollope points to the problems in financial dealings, speculation, the movement of capital and basing fortunes on insubstantial and often non-existent schemes. However Trollope’s remedy is, though cosy, also backward looking to a better time. The solution, for Trollope, as he disposes of the virulent capitalists (some of whom he sends to the US!) is a domestic cosiness in a sort of rural idyll (Suffolk in this instance). Looking at the contrast between Melmotte (villain) and Roger Carbury (a more heroic figure), both represent middle class anxieties and both are effectively out-manoeuvred by women. Melmotte by his daughter Marie, despite his abuse of her and Carbury by the woman he loves, Hetta, who loves someone else and resists pressure to conform.
Trollope does illustrate the difficulties women have in this society, as they seem to be oppressed by the demands of the men around them. They have no access to the centres of wealth that the men have. Trollope does give them a level of agency, but even one of the strongest women in the book (Mrs Hurtle) is still limited because she is in love with a man who does not love her. Trollope is essentially a reforming liberal and his solutions are necessarily limited. But Trollope does portray the clash between old and new cultures effectively. Many of the men are weak characters and the novel is about human weakness.
Of course there are issues. Any attempt at inter-class relationships are doomed. And those of the lower orders are virtuous and slow: caricatures (John Crumb). There is a touch of xenophobia about it all. Americans don’t come out of it very well and then there is the question of anti-Semitism. Melmotte’s origins are deliberately hazy, but many of his associates are Jewish. Croll’s conversations are deliberate caricatures of a way of speaking (switching w’s to v’s). When Breghert, a Jewish financier (described as “a fat, greasy man of fifty, conspicuous for hair-dye.”) proposes to a young English woman, her parents are horrified, despite his wealth. Trollope shows that their views are outdated. However unlike Eliot’s Daniel Deronda there is absolutely no spiritual side to the Jews in this novel. However Breghert is actually one of the few morally sound men in the novel. The usual analysis is that The Way We Live Now is anti-Semitic. I think this is too simplistic. I can’t exonerate Trollope entirely, he does show that the views of Georgina Longstaffe’s parents are out of date and the views reflected are the views of a typical Liberal of the time. However he does indulge in caricature (Croll) and Jewish characters are all involved in finance.
Trollope’s satire is effective and he makes his usual points about male/female relations, love and society. He does still make the point that the classes really should not mix when it comes to marriage.
July 10, 2010
I have to admit that I got a tiny little bit impatient with this. It is admittedly a comprehensive portrayal of an age, the 1870s when money, and indeed speculative money, stock market gambles and credit based on nothing more concrete than a reputation for being rich began to take over as the ticket to high society, instead of the privilege that went with the aristocratic title. The Lords and Baronets and other gentlemen are all impecunious, none can any longer afford to continue to live in the way to which they have become accustomed, none of them have a clue about business and the way they try to win the prize of the rich heiress is purely cynical and entirely reprehensible, only matched by the romanticism of the heiress's father, who imagines all kinds of benefits for himself once he is the father-in-law of a Lord. But I felt a lot of the time that Trollope was filling pages: he keeps five troubled love affairs on the go, but each time he has to leave one for a while and then go back to it, we get a repeat of what has gone before, as if we might have forgotten, and in the end it is nigh on 1000 pages on how a few people either come together and marry, or don't. And I maybe wasn't in the right mood to plough through quite so many pages for so little reward. There was a kind of inevitability to much of it, where I just began to think, oh get ON with it.
January 10, 2022
⭐4,5
Estamos ante una novela clásica, canónica, victoriana que sin embargo, tiene algo que la distingue bastante de las demás. Y es el grado de crítica social que ofrece, exagerada, directa a la yugular, haciendo que por momentos parezca más una sátira que una novela realista… pero al mismo tiempo siendo muy fiel a su tiempo.
Este libro me ha gustado muchísimo porque saca todos los trapos sucios de la sociedad victoriana y en ese sentido ha sido un colofón perfecto para el #RetoVictorianSpirit. Es una novela que gira en todo momento sobre el tema del dinero y la codicia, expresada en todas sus formas posibles (la estafa, el soborno, el matrimonio de convivencia… etc). Absolutamente todos los personajes que aparecen (que son muchos) son moralmente criticables y las interacciones que llevan a cabo entre ellos crean una tela de araña que resume muy bien la frase de “a río revuelto, ganancia de pescadores”. Muy recomendable.
RESEÑA COMPLETA: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__U57...
Estamos ante una novela clásica, canónica, victoriana que sin embargo, tiene algo que la distingue bastante de las demás. Y es el grado de crítica social que ofrece, exagerada, directa a la yugular, haciendo que por momentos parezca más una sátira que una novela realista… pero al mismo tiempo siendo muy fiel a su tiempo.
Este libro me ha gustado muchísimo porque saca todos los trapos sucios de la sociedad victoriana y en ese sentido ha sido un colofón perfecto para el #RetoVictorianSpirit. Es una novela que gira en todo momento sobre el tema del dinero y la codicia, expresada en todas sus formas posibles (la estafa, el soborno, el matrimonio de convivencia… etc). Absolutamente todos los personajes que aparecen (que son muchos) son moralmente criticables y las interacciones que llevan a cabo entre ellos crean una tela de araña que resume muy bien la frase de “a río revuelto, ganancia de pescadores”. Muy recomendable.
RESEÑA COMPLETA: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__U57...
January 23, 2015
Quid Pro Quo
With a large book of recognized stature, there is some tendency to create a similarly big review, something that mirrors the scale and gravitas of the work at hand. Better to think small here, but we'll see.
On The Make
While Trollope's The Way We Live Now does manage to instill an appreciation of the sizeable effort it must have taken, there is simply way too much here to really merit the giant appreciative kudos. Eight hundred and twenty-five pages in the Modern Library edition, and it barely manages to span one financial crash and a couple of London debutante-seasons. Henry James would sneak in a trip to Greece here, Dickens another two dozen brilliant character-actors, and any Russian worth his salt would manage to encompass a War along the way.
Birds Do It, Bees Do It
Not so Trollope, whose gaze rests ever-fixedly on the entwined romantic pursuits of any truly high society: Money, and Marrying For Money. This is fabulously satirical material, it should be mentioned; we are at the peak of High Victoriana, and the Ownership Society is in its voracious, amoral adolescence. Good intentions and high-mindedness in this milieu are frail, skewered and shamed on nearly every single page, as the author turns the dagger with some finesse.
Scorned Women
There is memorable characterization as is required with a farce of this size. Of the females, a disruptive character called Mrs. Hurtle arrives mid-book, upsetting all the refined applecarts. She is variously described as a witch, a cat, and should that not be enough, as an American divorcée. What dawns on the reader as we go is that she holds her own in worldly discussions, like a man, and still remains a sexual threat as a woman. Victorian kryptonite, more or less.
Get In On The Ground Floor
A brilliant minor female character is Didon, the French lady's maid who acts covertly, traditionally as the go-between in the romantic affairs of her charge, but then bolts with the jewels at a point where she can see a clear escape route to the port of New York. Even the servant class has a vision of their own Ownership Society, it seems.
Our Mutual Friend
At the top of the male characters there is the self-satisfied Sir Felix, one of the all-time great sleazes of literary history. In his role as inconstant swain and cad, surely he must qualify for the prize of Rat King. But not quite so fast.
Go For Broke
Because, swearing and snorting, gurgling threats and lashing out with venom and a smile, there is the book's main character. One of those 'sizeable concerns' that seem free to enter a bull market with ease, Augustus Melmotte, swindler, poseur, arriviste and Ponzi Schemer --just walks in and steals everything that's not nailed down. He is a Kim Dotcom or Bernard Madoff of another era. Melmotte is the master of the unsigned deed, the prospective shares-offering, the gentlemen's agreement-- and his arc will define the novel's path.
Goose Lays Golden Egg
That The Way We Live Now was written for serialization and plotted to standard lengths in advance-- to a price-point, in other words-- is a failing here. Micro recaps at chapter introductions become a little tedious for a modern reader. But Trollope has a finetuned sense of pace and timing, and knows well that every 1oo pages or so he must put the spurs in, to make the long format work.
Facing The Music
The real failing is the danger with any far-reaching Satire, that the color and atmosphere may recede behind the caricatures, with the author simply offering itinerary-- which character is to clash with which, who is in the room, what reverberations ripple out. What he's got right is the all too human cycle of connivance, regret, overcompensation, the bones on which he rests this farcical construction with all committed to strangling the same golden goose.
____
note.. There is a Bbc production of this that is the rare occasion of the movie being arguably better than the book. David Suchet (Poirot!) snarls out a magnificent Melmotte but is nearly outdone by the arch-rattiness of Matthew MacFayden as Sir Felix and the exquisite, proscenium-rattling performance of Shirley Henderson as Mademoiselle Melmotte, the daughter of golden expectations. Takes the book and breathes in life and laughter. Free on youtube.
With a large book of recognized stature, there is some tendency to create a similarly big review, something that mirrors the scale and gravitas of the work at hand. Better to think small here, but we'll see.
On The Make
While Trollope's The Way We Live Now does manage to instill an appreciation of the sizeable effort it must have taken, there is simply way too much here to really merit the giant appreciative kudos. Eight hundred and twenty-five pages in the Modern Library edition, and it barely manages to span one financial crash and a couple of London debutante-seasons. Henry James would sneak in a trip to Greece here, Dickens another two dozen brilliant character-actors, and any Russian worth his salt would manage to encompass a War along the way.
Birds Do It, Bees Do It
Not so Trollope, whose gaze rests ever-fixedly on the entwined romantic pursuits of any truly high society: Money, and Marrying For Money. This is fabulously satirical material, it should be mentioned; we are at the peak of High Victoriana, and the Ownership Society is in its voracious, amoral adolescence. Good intentions and high-mindedness in this milieu are frail, skewered and shamed on nearly every single page, as the author turns the dagger with some finesse.
Scorned Women
There is memorable characterization as is required with a farce of this size. Of the females, a disruptive character called Mrs. Hurtle arrives mid-book, upsetting all the refined applecarts. She is variously described as a witch, a cat, and should that not be enough, as an American divorcée. What dawns on the reader as we go is that she holds her own in worldly discussions, like a man, and still remains a sexual threat as a woman. Victorian kryptonite, more or less.
Get In On The Ground Floor
A brilliant minor female character is Didon, the French lady's maid who acts covertly, traditionally as the go-between in the romantic affairs of her charge, but then bolts with the jewels at a point where she can see a clear escape route to the port of New York. Even the servant class has a vision of their own Ownership Society, it seems.
Our Mutual Friend
At the top of the male characters there is the self-satisfied Sir Felix, one of the all-time great sleazes of literary history. In his role as inconstant swain and cad, surely he must qualify for the prize of Rat King. But not quite so fast.
Go For Broke
Because, swearing and snorting, gurgling threats and lashing out with venom and a smile, there is the book's main character. One of those 'sizeable concerns' that seem free to enter a bull market with ease, Augustus Melmotte, swindler, poseur, arriviste and Ponzi Schemer --just walks in and steals everything that's not nailed down. He is a Kim Dotcom or Bernard Madoff of another era. Melmotte is the master of the unsigned deed, the prospective shares-offering, the gentlemen's agreement-- and his arc will define the novel's path.
Goose Lays Golden Egg
That The Way We Live Now was written for serialization and plotted to standard lengths in advance-- to a price-point, in other words-- is a failing here. Micro recaps at chapter introductions become a little tedious for a modern reader. But Trollope has a finetuned sense of pace and timing, and knows well that every 1oo pages or so he must put the spurs in, to make the long format work.
Facing The Music
The real failing is the danger with any far-reaching Satire, that the color and atmosphere may recede behind the caricatures, with the author simply offering itinerary-- which character is to clash with which, who is in the room, what reverberations ripple out. What he's got right is the all too human cycle of connivance, regret, overcompensation, the bones on which he rests this farcical construction with all committed to strangling the same golden goose.
____
note.. There is a Bbc production of this that is the rare occasion of the movie being arguably better than the book. David Suchet (Poirot!) snarls out a magnificent Melmotte but is nearly outdone by the arch-rattiness of Matthew MacFayden as Sir Felix and the exquisite, proscenium-rattling performance of Shirley Henderson as Mademoiselle Melmotte, the daughter of golden expectations. Takes the book and breathes in life and laughter. Free on youtube.
February 7, 2017
A brilliant satire shockingly apt for current times. A rich man appears on the scene promising much, everyone fawns around him without knowing anything of him except for his apparent richness, he gets elected to a position he doesn't understand, and when the crash comes, everyone blames everyone else. Very, very timely......
July 14, 2021
2009
With the financial/economic turmoil over the last several years, (mortgage bubble/crisis, bank bail-outs, trading losses, Bernie Madoff, etc.), greed and avarice in the news and the air, The Way We Live Now has made a resurgence. For instance the 140+ year old novel making the recommended reading lists of The Daily Beast/Newsweek. The story goes that Trollope, after returning home from a lengthy trip abroad, was appalled at the new England he found - greedy and money obsessed, with financial scandals aplenty. So Trollope being Trollope, put his impressions down on paper and the result is this, the author’s longest novel – that last bit – the good news and bad news.
At its core The Way We Live Now is satire – jaded and cynical - and one needs to keep that in mind when reading this very lengthy novel. And although there are protagonists, there are no heroes here. In fact, virtually all of the characters in this novel are unlikeable; you will be rooting for no one. (There is a newspaper editor and a Carbury cousin – each tolerable, but only in comparison.) That doesn’t mean this novel isn’t engaging and entertaining – it is – if for no other reason than thanking your lucky stars you are not one of the cast. Because although they may be unlikeable - in fact a few are downright loathsome - the characters are extremely well-developed and real enough to trip your schadenfreude switch.
The plot revolves around financier Augustus Melmotte - aloof, mysterious and “foreign” – he’s also not all he claims to be. Most of the other characters are in one way or another trying to get a piece of the Melmotte financial pie – which includes the hand of his unmarried “daughter”. (The select few who aren’t involved in the hunt find the money man odious.) And that’s the “fun” of this novel – everyone is scheming and everyone knows everyone is scheming.
Just to highlight –
There is Widow Carbury, a mediocre author at best, narcissist extraordinaire and mother of two adult children - a vapid and insipid daughter and a true bum of a son – both progeny living at home. Momma C. is doing her best to advance their interests, meaning really her own. The son and his chums, none of them employed, spend most of their waking hours at the only club that will have them – the Beargarden – drinking, playing cards and swapping gambling IOUs.
Also worth mentioning is “young” Georgiana Longestaffe, the epitome of a spoiled brat. And several minor characters that could have come straight from a Charles Dickens novel – Attorneys Slow and Bideawhile and literary agents Leadham and Loiter.
I’m just scratching the surface here. There is a U.S. connection and the Carbury son mentioned above – Felix – is one of the better scoundrels of Victorian literature. Ironically when first published The Way We Live Now was panned – possibly the mirror Trollope held up to his countrymen resulting in too stark a reflection. That the novel is still topical speaks volumes. The complaint that this novel is too long is accurate. It is too long, but still a wonderful read.
With the financial/economic turmoil over the last several years, (mortgage bubble/crisis, bank bail-outs, trading losses, Bernie Madoff, etc.), greed and avarice in the news and the air, The Way We Live Now has made a resurgence. For instance the 140+ year old novel making the recommended reading lists of The Daily Beast/Newsweek. The story goes that Trollope, after returning home from a lengthy trip abroad, was appalled at the new England he found - greedy and money obsessed, with financial scandals aplenty. So Trollope being Trollope, put his impressions down on paper and the result is this, the author’s longest novel – that last bit – the good news and bad news.
At its core The Way We Live Now is satire – jaded and cynical - and one needs to keep that in mind when reading this very lengthy novel. And although there are protagonists, there are no heroes here. In fact, virtually all of the characters in this novel are unlikeable; you will be rooting for no one. (There is a newspaper editor and a Carbury cousin – each tolerable, but only in comparison.) That doesn’t mean this novel isn’t engaging and entertaining – it is – if for no other reason than thanking your lucky stars you are not one of the cast. Because although they may be unlikeable - in fact a few are downright loathsome - the characters are extremely well-developed and real enough to trip your schadenfreude switch.
The plot revolves around financier Augustus Melmotte - aloof, mysterious and “foreign” – he’s also not all he claims to be. Most of the other characters are in one way or another trying to get a piece of the Melmotte financial pie – which includes the hand of his unmarried “daughter”. (The select few who aren’t involved in the hunt find the money man odious.) And that’s the “fun” of this novel – everyone is scheming and everyone knows everyone is scheming.
Just to highlight –
There is Widow Carbury, a mediocre author at best, narcissist extraordinaire and mother of two adult children - a vapid and insipid daughter and a true bum of a son – both progeny living at home. Momma C. is doing her best to advance their interests, meaning really her own. The son and his chums, none of them employed, spend most of their waking hours at the only club that will have them – the Beargarden – drinking, playing cards and swapping gambling IOUs.
Also worth mentioning is “young” Georgiana Longestaffe, the epitome of a spoiled brat. And several minor characters that could have come straight from a Charles Dickens novel – Attorneys Slow and Bideawhile and literary agents Leadham and Loiter.
I’m just scratching the surface here. There is a U.S. connection and the Carbury son mentioned above – Felix – is one of the better scoundrels of Victorian literature. Ironically when first published The Way We Live Now was panned – possibly the mirror Trollope held up to his countrymen resulting in too stark a reflection. That the novel is still topical speaks volumes. The complaint that this novel is too long is accurate. It is too long, but still a wonderful read.
September 13, 2024
https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2024...
“La extensión de su novela había sido la primera cuestión. Debía ser en tres volúmenes, y cada volumen debía tener trescientas páginas. Pero ¿cuántas palabras se suponía que eran suficientes para llenar una página?”
"El mundo en que vivimos" es una novela larga, yo diría que demasiado, pero claro, si pensamos que este tipo de novelas fueron publicadas por entregas y a sus autores les pagaban por palabras, ya os imaginareis los tochos que salían de ahí una vez que se ensamblaban, como esta novela que me ocupa o las novelas de Dickens o de Wilkie Collins, y por lo que veo sobre todo en el último tercio que es el que se me hizo más cuesta arriba, los editores no debían meter mucho la tijera y también es comprensible porque ya en este último tercio, se tenían que cerrar todas las tramas abiertas. El mismo Anthony Trollope se carcajea de esto creando un personaje femenino, una viuda, que escribe novelones para mantenerse, y continuamente está sacandole punta al hecho de que sus obras no tienen ni un ápice de talento. Esta novela se publicó originalmente en 20 partes mensuales y cada una de estas partes contenía 5 capítulos, cada uno de ellos casi con igual número de páginas. Una novela por entregas, controlada, medida, con las palabras perfectamente contadas, publicada entre 1874 y 1875. Transcurre además en 1873 a lo largo de 6 meses. Muchos datos numéricos son los que he dado, pero puede que así se entienda mejor del por qué una novela victoriana de este tipo llegue a tener 900 páginas. Imagino que las partes que salían por entregas mensualmente vendrían a ser como estas series de tv de ahora en las que dejaban el suspense abierto hasta la siguiente entrega o capítulo. Siendo una novela estupenda como es, ya digo que el último tercio me resultó algo cansino a la hora de que Trollope tuviera que cerrar el final de cada uno de los tropecientos personajes que la componen. A este número de páginas se le añade el hecho de que es una novela victoriana en toda regla, con lo cual, se daban mil vueltas para decir algo que no resultara malsonante o vulgar. Diálogos comedidos y mareando la perdiz, hasta poder llegar a expresar lo que se quería decir sin resultar demasiado “expresivo”, o “sentimental” o “directo”, conversaciones orbitando en torno a un tema en el que se daban mil vueltas para llegar a la esencia de la cuestión, llamese doble moral, llamese hipocresía o simplemente no ir al grano...
“Pero el representante de un caballero ingles, el modelo de todos ellos, era el que poseía tierras, títulos de propiedad familiares, una residencia antiquísima, muchos retratos de sus antepasados, algún que otro escándalo y una ausencia absoluta de cualquier tipo de empleo en toda la familia.”
He empezado por comentar lo que me han parecido los defectillos de esta novela que realmente no lo son porque es una novela de su tiempo, pero sí que pueden resultar algo cansinos para un lector de ahora, aunque algunos de los temas que trata Trollope resultan fascinantes por lo vigentes que siguen estando después de casi doscientos años; el autor profundiza en ellos con un desparpajo y un sentido del humor que hasta llegar al último tercio resultan una delicia. Trollope que regresa a Londres después de haber pasado dieciocho meses en Australia, se quedó conmocionado por como vio Gran Bretaña a su llegada, el culto al dinero y a una codicia había sumido a su país en una profunda crisis moral, está corrupción financiera fue lo que le llevó a plantearse una novela como "El mundo en que vivimos": una crisis financiera a modo de burbuja económica como las que vivimos ahora mismo con financieros que aparecían de la nada para crear negocios que eran como pompas de jabón: (“Esto era parte del encanto de todos los tratos que se hacían con este gran hombre; el dinero en efectivo no parecía ser necesario. Se llevaban a cabo grandes adquisiciones y se completaban tremendas transacciones aparentemente sin firmar un cheque siquiera”). Trollope se lo toma muy en serio y no deja títere con cabeza al retratar lo que es la especulación financiera, el fraude, las fortunas que se ganan o se pierden en una milésima de segundo, así que de alguna forma esta novela de 1875 está también retratando la crisis de nuestro tiempo presente. Ese titulo "El mundo en que vivimos" está perfectamente elegido porque realmente el mundo financiero que está retratando podría ser el que vivimos ahora mismo en nuestro presente, pero también porque aborda temas como la violencia doméstica, la familia, el racismo, el suicidio o el rol de la mujer con una agudeza que diría que casi va más allá de la era en la que fue escrita, y si nos detenemos a analizarlo seriamente, a grosso modo, nuestra sociedad no ha cambiado demasiado.
“He sufrido mucho. Me han herido en todas las partes de mi cuerpo, en todos y cada uno de mis nervios, me han torturado hasta casi no poder soportar el castigo. Al fin conseguí ser libre, y para mi eso equivale a la felicidad.”
En cuanto a argumento es casi imposible esbozar o hacer un resumen sobre él ya que hay muchos personajes que crean diferentes lineas argumentales y el mismo Trollope se ve obligado a recordar al lector de vez en cuando sobre cómo y por qué va a retroceder o adelantarse en el tiempo, ya que es prácticamente imposible que el lector tenga controlado estos tiempos con tanto personaje, sin embargo si que se puede decir que el argumento gira en torno a dos lineas argumentales principales que son los que unirán al resto de los personajes:
“Hay criticas que se escriben para vender un libro, y que se publican inmediatamente después de la puesta en venta del volumen, o incluso poco antes; existe la crítica que proporciona un nombre y una reputación, pero que no incide en las ventas, y que llega un poco más tarde; la crítica que denota, silenciosamente, al libro, y la que busca elevar o hundir al autor un peldaño, o dos, a veces; también la crítica que súbitamente encumbra a un autor, y la crítica que lo aplasta.”
a) por una parte estará Lady Carbury y sus dos hijos. Ella es una aspirante a escritora que está tratando de que varios editores se tomen en serio su obra Es un comienzo de novela delirante en el que Trollope nos sitúa, imagino que por experiencia propia, en cómo funcionaba el negocio editorial. Lady Carbury, escritora mediocre, echa mano de sus conocidos en el mundo editorial para que le amañen reseñas favorables y así sus Reinas Criminales, una novela espantosa, tenga un buen recibimiento. Trollope está en este principio de novela jugando y carcajeándose con el hecho de que no importa la calidad literaria sino en cómo te vendes o te venden. Irónico, incisivo, agudísimo y muy divertido. Además de un tema también muy vigente por cómo algunas editoriales hoy en día te han vendido una obra a través del marketing mucho antes de que salga publicada, calidad y ventas no tienen porque ir emparejadas, es lo que nos viene a decir Trollope con finísima ironía.
“Si yo comprara una pequeña propiedad una cabañita con jardín, o tú lector a menos que seas magnífico, nos pedirían hasta el último cuarto de penique, o la seguridad suficiente de recibir el dinero antes de que se nos permitiera entrar en nuestro nuevo hogar. Pero el dinero era el mismísimo aliento de las fosas nasales de Melmotte, de modo que su respiración se consideraba su dinero.”
b) El otro personaje y casi el protagonista absoluto de la novela, será el financiero Augustus Melmotte. A raíz de su llegada a Londres con su familia, todo girará en torno a él. Melmotte es un tipo que no se sabe de dónde viene, aunque si viene precedido de ciertas leyendas más bien urbanas en forma de rumores de los lugares dónde había vivido anteriormente en los que parece que tuvo que salir huyendo por escándalos fraudulentos. Su llegada a Londres a todo trapo hará que todos comiencen a hablar de él: hay escándalo en torno a él, sí, pero lo importante es que parece gastar el dinero a espuertas que será lo que de verdad importe. Melmotte se rodea de diversos personajes aristócratas mayormente, que necesitan dinero en efectivo (“No saben de que están hablando. Hay demasiada gente subida al barco como para dejar que explote”), así que cuando Melmotte crea la empresa que vende acciones del Ferrocarril del Pacífico Sur Central y México, un proyecto fantasma, sienten que es la oportunidad de sus vidas para hacer dinero en medio segundo. Así que la ironía de todo esto está en el hecho de que aunque todo el mundo duda de Melmotte e incluso lo desprecian por no pertenecer a su clase, y que casi todo el mundo intuye que es un bribón y sin embargo, se embarcan en esta compleja red de compras de acciones y dinero que realmente no existe...¿hasta qué punto Melmotte los está defraudando cuando su fama lo había precedido?? La codicia por el dinero es más fuerte que todo esto...”A todos los presentes se les había dado a entender de un modo u otro que iban a ganar una fortuna, no gracias a la construcción del ferrocarril, sino con el aumento del valor de las acciones de la compañía.”
“El señor Fisker demostraba una absoluta indiferencia acerca de si el ferrocarril terminaría construido o no; claramente, era de la opinión que ganarían una fortuna antes de que se moviera una paletada de tierra de la obra.”
El plan de Melmotte es el típico fraude piramidal en el que va a inflar las acciones de un ferrocarril que ni siquiera se va a construir, sin tener en cuenta las realidades económicas de su inversores, el estafador lo que pretende es pagar los intereses de una inversión con el mismo dinero invertido, pero claro esto es un castillo de naipes, y la pregunta estará en ¿cuánto tiempo conseguirá sostenerlo Melmotte? (“Las acciones parecían estar todas en el bolsillo de Melmotte, para sí poder distribuirlas como quisiera, y también daba la impresión de que, cuando se distribuían y vendían, y se compraban otra vez y se vendían de nuevo, regresaban al bolsillo de Melmotte”). Y aquí es dónde Trollope teje una maraña de redes en las que prácticamente todos los personajes aparecerán afectados de una u otra manera por Melmotte, un argumento especialmente relevante hoy en día en que las noticias financieras continuamente nos anuncian estafas semejantes a las de Melmotte. Anthony Trollope tiene además esta visión tan lúcida sobre la naturaleza humana, tanto que parece que sea una historia de ahora mismo. Pero El mundo en que vivimos es una novela que va más allá de esta sátira del mundo de las finanzas especulativas y del despilfarro en mayúsculas, porque donde de verdad brilla Trollope es en el esbozo de sus personajes, cómo piensan, como se angustian, dudan, se debilitan, se camuflan bajo ese techado de moralidad y de virtud totalmente impostada en la que los barones y los lores ya empezaban a darse cuenta de que una nueva clase social emergía y que era la dueña del dinero y que los necesitaban a pesar de que los despreciasen.
“Se había dado por supuesto que debía casarse con una heredera. En familias como estas, cuando se han conseguido resultados así, generalmente se supone que los asuntos debe solucionarlos una heredera. Se ha convertido en una institución como la primogenitura, y es prácticaemente igual de útil para mantener el orden de las cosas. El rango desperdicia el dinero; el comercio lo genera; entonces el comercio compra el rango dando un nuevo baño de oro a su esplendor.”
Anthony Trollope no demuestra absolutamente ninguna contemplación a la hora de cuestionar como se las gastaban estas familias pudientes en lo que se refería a la compraventa de sus propios hijos, compraban herederas para mantener su status, a cambio sus primogénitos podían seguir sin dar un palo al agua. Hay momentos realmente angustiosos en este aspecto, porque aunque por ejemplo, Henry James, narra muy bien este mundo victoriano, en Trollope quizás se hace mucho más evidente este negocio con los hijos, no se anda con florituras en transmitirnos la angustia de muchas de estas mujeres que no solo sufrían violencia doméstica sino que además no tenían absolutamente ningún rincón dónde huir porque además tenían que conservar las apariencias a pesar de que dependían totalmente de los hombres de su familia, sin contemplaciones cuestiona la presión a la que se veían reducidas las hijas de estas familias a la hora de tener que buscarse la vida: “Cuando el legado y su casa de campo cayeran en manos de su hermano, reconocía que Georgiana tenia que buscarse una casa propia antes de que esto sucediera”.
“¡Pero qué difícil para una joven señorita terminar con su familia! Un hombre joven puede ir a cualquier parte, puede perderse en el mar, o volver y reclamar su propiedad tras veinte años. Un joven varón puede exigir una paga y tiene casi el derecho a vivir solo. Se presupone que un joven pájaro debe volar lejos del nido. Pero la hija de una casa se ve obligada a seguir a su padre hasta que encuentre un marido."
Aunque aparentemente "El mundo en que vivimos" pueda verse como un novelón victoriano en el que el romance campe a sus anchas, con parejas que se forman y se rompen, realmente no hay absolutamente nada de romántico en ella , y la visión de Trollope es lo más antiromántico que podamos encontrarnos en un novelón de este tipo, es escéptico sobre la base en la que se construían la mayoría de estos matrimonios, negocio puro y duro, la prueba está quizás en la parte final cuando va cerrando las lineas argumentales. El amor, tal y como se atreve a decir uno de los personajes femeninos, brilla por su ausencia “¿Amado? Pero ¿quien piensa en amor hoy en día? No conozco a nadie que ame a nadie.”, y esto lo dice una de las mujeres de la novela, para más inri. Trollope no era precisamente ni un machista ni un misógino, todas y cada una de las mujeres que guían esta novela son mujeres fuertes, que luchan de alguna forma por lo que quieren, ser libres a su manera. La sociedad ya se encargará de hacerles entender que les va a resultar una tarea difícil, y Trollope demuestra en este aspecto una enorme generosidad a la hora de visibilizar a sus personajes femeninos poniendo sobre el tapete una y otra vez la hipocresía y la doble moral que se gastaban contra ellas: feminidad y mujer fuerte eran términos contradictorios en aquella época tal y como viene a decir en un momento dado mi personaje favorito en esta novela, la sra. Hurtle:
“Pero cuando una mujer no tiene a nadie que la ayude, ¿debe soportarlo todo sin volverse contra aquellos que la maltratan? ¿Debe una mujer ser despellejada porque no es femenino que luche para salvar su piel? ¿Qué hay de bueno en ser... femenina, como vosotros lo llamáis? ¿Te lo has preguntado? Que a los hombres les atrae, diría yo.
Pero si una mujer se encuentra con que los hombres solo se aprovechan de ella porque presupone que es débil, ¿no debería deshacerse de esta? Si es tratada como una presa, ¿no debería luchar como una bestia? ¡Ah no! ¡Eso es muy poco femenino!
Estoy sola y tengo que librar mis propias batallas. El arma de una mujer es su lengua.”
Independientemente de que el último tercio me resultara cansino por lo que expliqué al principio de este comentario, El mundo en que vivimos es una novela estupenda porque la mayoría de lo que se cuenta sigue aquí, sin erradicar de nuestra sociedad: los delitos financieros y que casi todo el mundo acepta cuánto más grandes sean siempre que consigan su parte del pastel; el abuso doméstico, la doble moral todavía imperante en los roles de género, los privilegios de una cierta clase social, ese mundo literario en el que el que más vende no tiene porque ser el libro de más calidad, las criticas compradas, la mujer como objeto “Las mujeres vivimos en una época, nieguemelo si estoy equivocada, en la que nos hemos convertido en juguetes para los hombres”. Todo lo que abord aquí Anthony Trollope, sigue presente en mayor o menor medida y leyendo novelas como esta, nos damos cuenta de lo poco que hemos avanzado como sociedad.
“Un hombre no puede contener siempre sus propias acciones y mantenerlas dentro de los límites que se habían establecido. Muy a menudo se quedan por debajo de la magnitud a la que aspiraban sus ambiciones. Algunas veces se alzan más allá de lo que había imaginado. Así había sido con el señor Melmotte. Había imaginado grandes cosas, pero las cosas que estaba consiguiendo iban más allá de su imaginación.”
♫♫♫ The world we live in - The Killers ♫♫♫
July 17, 2023
An epic satirical story that illustrates the value of character, the different standards for men and women, and how money and class affect relationships in Victorian England. From start to finish it took a whopping 37 hours to complete the audiobook! At times, it felt overly long, however mostly I truly enjoyed it. The story includes some fascinating character studies.
Standout passages:
From chapter 79: The Brehgert Correspondence:
"Should you become my wife it shall be the study of my life to make you happy."
"She was well aware that the world in general attributes more years to unmarried women than they have lived as a sort of equalizing counterweight against the pretenses which young women make on the other side or the lies which are told on their behalf."
From Chapter 80: Ruby prepares for Service:
Ruby had set her cap at the beautiful and fickle Sir Felix, and spurned John Crumb who is an honest and hardworking miller. Mrs. Hurtle convinces Ruby's aunt to give her an ultimatum. She is to marry or go into service. Then, Mrs. Hurtle talks to Ruby about character vs. looks and states, "What's the use of a glib tongue if there isn't a heart with it? What's the use of a lot of tinsel and lacquer if the real metal isn't there?"
From Chapter 91: The Rivals:
"The truth is you are indulging a dream. You must wake from it and shake yourself and find out that you, like others, have got to do the best you can for yourself in order that you may live. The world at large has to eat dry bread and cannot get cake and sweetmeats."
From Chapter 97: Mrs. Hurtle's Fate:
"He could change his love as often as he pleased and be as good a lover at the end as ever, whereas she was ruined by his defection. He could look about for a fresh flower and boldly seek his honey, whereas she could only sit and mourn for the sweets of which she had been rifled."
The narrator, David Shaw-Parker did an admirable job of bringing this story to life.
Also, there is a 4-part TV mini series based on this book starring David Suchet in the lead role as Augustus Melmotte. It's well done with some other actors that are household names.
Standout passages:
From chapter 79: The Brehgert Correspondence:
"Should you become my wife it shall be the study of my life to make you happy."
"She was well aware that the world in general attributes more years to unmarried women than they have lived as a sort of equalizing counterweight against the pretenses which young women make on the other side or the lies which are told on their behalf."
From Chapter 80: Ruby prepares for Service:
Ruby had set her cap at the beautiful and fickle Sir Felix, and spurned John Crumb who is an honest and hardworking miller. Mrs. Hurtle convinces Ruby's aunt to give her an ultimatum. She is to marry or go into service. Then, Mrs. Hurtle talks to Ruby about character vs. looks and states, "What's the use of a glib tongue if there isn't a heart with it? What's the use of a lot of tinsel and lacquer if the real metal isn't there?"
From Chapter 91: The Rivals:
"The truth is you are indulging a dream. You must wake from it and shake yourself and find out that you, like others, have got to do the best you can for yourself in order that you may live. The world at large has to eat dry bread and cannot get cake and sweetmeats."
From Chapter 97: Mrs. Hurtle's Fate:
"He could change his love as often as he pleased and be as good a lover at the end as ever, whereas she was ruined by his defection. He could look about for a fresh flower and boldly seek his honey, whereas she could only sit and mourn for the sweets of which she had been rifled."
The narrator, David Shaw-Parker did an admirable job of bringing this story to life.
Also, there is a 4-part TV mini series based on this book starring David Suchet in the lead role as Augustus Melmotte. It's well done with some other actors that are household names.
July 28, 2011
This book couldn't be more aptly titled, but don't think that makes it in the least boring. There are enough interesting characters and plenty of plot to keep you reading through all of it's lengthy pages.
It's all about money, you see: who's got it, who flaunts it, who will do what to get it, and who will marry because of it. There are intrigues, both financial and matrimonial; and scandals, both financial and matrimonial. Some parts, admittedly, are a bit melodramatic, but Trollope is such good fun. How can you not laugh about the naming of a very wealthy, but minor aristocrat, named Damask Monogram? Or the law firm of the stodgy and not very swift Messrs Slow and Bideawhile?
This is just about as much fun as you can have. The only reason it's not 5 stars is because it just didn't quite make my heart sing.
It's all about money, you see: who's got it, who flaunts it, who will do what to get it, and who will marry because of it. There are intrigues, both financial and matrimonial; and scandals, both financial and matrimonial. Some parts, admittedly, are a bit melodramatic, but Trollope is such good fun. How can you not laugh about the naming of a very wealthy, but minor aristocrat, named Damask Monogram? Or the law firm of the stodgy and not very swift Messrs Slow and Bideawhile?
This is just about as much fun as you can have. The only reason it's not 5 stars is because it just didn't quite make my heart sing.
November 28, 2014
Who does not know that sudden thoughtfulness at waking, that first matutinal retrospection, and pro-spection, into things as they have been and are to be; and the lowness of the heart, the blankness of hope which follows the first remembrance of some folly lately done, some word ill-spoken, some money misspent - or perhaps a cigar too much, or a glass of brandy and soda-water which he should have left untasted? And when things have gone well, how the waker comforts himself among the bedclothes as he claims for himself to be whole all over, teres atque rotundus - so to have managed his little affairs that he has to fear no harm, and to blush inwardly at no error!
(p 274)
It's late and the wine has almost worn off, so I'm sleepy. But I was hellbent on finishing this book tonight. Thankfully for all, I don't have to wake up in a few hours to go to work, because no one in my office would care that I am crabby(ier) than usual because I stayed up too late finishing Trollope.
I feel like I've been reading this book forever. I was really into it for the first half of the book or so, and then took a break for themed reads in October. Returning to it in November was exceptionally difficult, and it's hard for me to tell if my mood towards the book changed or if there was a shift in the story's tone. I think, actually, there's a little bit of both.
There's been a lot of chatter about how Trollope was a better author than Dickens, but for some reason Trollope never got the same sort of lovin' that Dickens received. I actually agree with that - and that's after reading quite a few Dickens and this was my only Trollope so far. I feel like with Dickens you know what you're going to get; and since this was my first Trollope, it's arguable that I enjoyed it more in some ways because I didn't know what to expect.
That being said, as delicious as this book was in parts (where Dickens often can be really boring in comparison), I'd say even more delicious than Trollope was Benito Pérez Galdós - at least in Fortunata and Jacinta: Two Stories of Married Women.
The aspects of this book I enjoyed more involved Trollope's honesty. I've read a lot of Victorian novels, and I would say direct references to domestic violence, for example, are rather rare. There might be indirect references, maybe a metaphor for something, but in this book there is very open discussion, as flippant at times as it might be. I found this refreshing, actually.
While some of the characters of fantastically portrayed, I feel others were there merely as plot points, which made them feel bland in comparison. I found this disappointing at times; for such a long book one would expect more character development all around, though in reality I feel we only got a good sense of a select few.
This is a heavy book and covers a lot of ground with a lot of characters. I agree with many readers in that the wrap-ups at the end left a bit to be desired, but also that I want for them what I would expect from a 21st-century perspective which would have been crazy idealistic (and unrealistic) for the 19th-century.
Whatever. I need more wine.
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