Anthony Trollope: An Autobiography

I have to agree with my sister that Trollope's Autobiography is for diehard fans. Having read 23 of his novels, I put myself in that category, and, still, this book was an occasional slog. The early chapters were painfully sad memories of his poverty-stricken childhood and how he eked out an education at Harrow where he was regularly beaten. At nineteen, he left school and came home to find his father fleeing to Belgium and his mother dismantling the household in order to pay the creditors. The whole family joined the father in Europe, and since almost all of them were dying of consumption, his mother took on the full support of the family with her novel writing. Trollope's admiration for her knows no bounds:

The doctor’s vials and the ink-bottle held equal places in my mother’s rooms. I have written many novels under many circumstances, but I doubt much whether I could write one when my whole heart was by the bedside of a dying son. Her power of dividing herself into two parts, and keeping her intellect by itself clear from the troubles of the world, and fit for the duty it had to do, I never saw equaled. I do not think that the writing of novel is the most difficult task which a man may be called upon to do, but it is a task that may be supposed to demand a spirit fairly at ease…. My mother went through it unscathed in strength, though she performed all the work of day-nurse and night-nurse to a sick household – for there were soon three of them dying. 

Soon he was summoned to work as a clerk in the London Post office. He gives detailed descriptions of his post office duties through the years and how he managed to begin his own career as a novelist; he recalls his different books and how long they took to write and how much he got paid for them. Sometimes he compares how he felt about them with what the public felt about them.  (He didn’t give a hang about public opinion.) Regarding TheSmall House at Allington, he wrote, In it appeared Lily Dale, one of the characters which readers of my novels have liked the best. In the love with which she has been greeted I have hardly joined with much enthusiasm, feeling that she is somewhat of a prig. 

Chapter Thirteen was a commentary on fellow Victorian novelists and includes Trollope’s fascinating predictions of who would last and who would fade away. His “keepers” are Thackeray and George Eliot. He acknowledges Dicken’s popularity, but vehemently disagrees with it. His predictions for the “losers” were mostly right. He predicted that the novels of Charles Read, Henry Bulwer, Annie Thackeray, Rhoda Broughton, Charles Lever and Charlotte Brontë (!) would sink into oblivion.   

Although parts of this book were tedious, I was sad when it was over. The narrator, Bernard Mayes (with his grandfatherly British voice), did such a good job that I felt like I had just had a long conversation with a good friend that suddenly came to an end.

I will close with a favorite quote from Clifton Fadiman: Above all give me Trollope, from whom I have received so much pleasure that I would willingly call him another St. Anthony; his half a hundred novels are good for five years of bedside reading. Of those who minister to the tired, night-welcoming mind, Trollope is king. He never fails to interest, but not too much; to soothe, but not too much. Trollope is the perfect novelist for the bedside.

Blessings,

What I Read in January

We left the U.S. on January the 12th. Until then I was too busy packing to read. But since we've arrived in Brazil and have not been able to move into our apartment or to be involved in our work, I've read ten books in 20 days. I never thought I could get tired of endless reading time, but now I'm wishing for a place to call home where I can be busy doing other things.

The Disappointments:
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho is one of the most popular books in the history of Brazilian literature. It was dumb, but now I know what people are talking about when they mention it (review here). Island of Sheep by John Buchan was the only book I started but did not finish. Too many villains to keep straight and an over-complicated plot. It always hurts when I read a Trollope novel that I don't love, but that was the case with Harry Heathcoate of Gangoil.  I listened to Alice in Wonderland because I love anything Ralph Cosham narrates, but I still didn't care for it very much. (It was my 5th try.)

The Good Stuff:
I read two page-turners: Touch Not the Cat by Mary Stewart (review here) and The Empty World  by D. E. Stevenson (review here). Trojan Mouse by Samuel Lively was a fascinating look at how Disney studios has changed through the years and how they have maintained their image as "family-friendly" when, in fact, they are teaching many dangerous ideas (reviewed here).

I read two autobiographies written by friends. One, Eu Sei que Deus se Importa Comigo, was by a ministry colleague, and The Colors of My Country was written by a college friend who grew up in Africa.

My very favorite read of the month was Agnes Grey by Anne Brontë, which I hope to review soon. Meanwhile I'll keep reading since the apartment is tied up in all kinds of red tape.

Blessings,

The Five Most Influential Books in My Life

While preparing for my latest move, I came across a letter I wrote to my mom a few years ago about the five books (apart from the Bible) that have had the biggest impact on my life. These are not necessarily the books I have loved the most, but they all had a profound effect on my behavior.

1) Jane Eyre influenced me as a teen to stay true to my convictions no matter what.
2) My Utmost for His Highest showed me that Christianity is not for wimps.
3) Edith Schaeffer's books reinforced what my mother taught me about the value of making a home where people are loved and nurtured into the Kingdom.
4) How to Really Love Your Child by Ross Campbell radically changed my parenting style.
5) British author Anthony Trollope transformed my reading tastes from "I will read almost anything" to "Don't insult me with your fluff." (!)

What about you? What books have most influenced your life?

Blessings,

The Claverings by Anthony Trollope

I recently looked up a list of Trollope titles to see if it was a reasonable goal to try and read them all.  I found an article by English poet/novelist H.S. Davies who wrote that the best of Trollope is found in his two series (Barsetshire and Palliser) but that two other novels (of 47) are good examples of Trollope's tremendous talent. The first is The Way We Live Now (1873) and the second is The Claverings (1867).

Last week I gave a hint there about my dissatisfaction with this book because I had a hard time appreciating Harry Clavering, a double-minded man when it came to love and marriage. As I watched him waffle on his engagement to Girl #2 when Girl #1 became a widow, I wished for a hero with more backbone. (Septimus Harding, Dr. Thorne and Plantagenet Palliser are men from other Trollope novels who are not perfect, but, nevertheless, are men of conviction.)

This novel was similar to an Austen novel in that everyone is seeking to make an advantageous marriage. Harry is jilted initially by Julia because he has no money.  Mr. Saul is refused by Fanny because he is penniless curate.  After Julia becomes a rich widow, several men seek her hand purely for financial gain.  Interestingly, those who have married into money are the most unhappy people in the story.  Yet Trollope isn't totally against the security that comes from wealth since most of the main characters in the book end up with well-feathered nests. I can't tell any more of the story without giving spoilers.

In spite of my irritation with Harry Clavering, I enjoyed Trollope's witticisms, especially with regards to Archie (one of Julia's suitors) and his friend Boodle.  Also, the narrators at Librivox did an unusually good job on this one.

Jane Austen Blues

I often say that Anthony Trollope ruined me for lesser books.  After completing one of his novels, I often struggle to find something else to read that measures up to his superior writing.  Now that I’ve finished Mansfield Park, I am having the same dilemma.   I’ve picked up and put down four different books today.  It’s not the quality of the books themselves because all of them come highly recommended.  It’s just that after the decorous behavior of Miss Price and the word precision of Miss Austen, everything else seems tawdry.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn was too gritty.  Bud, Not Buddy too sad.  White Fang too bloody. Even the highly touted One Thousand Gifts came off as histrionic.  Obviously, I need some kind of therapy. Cyrano de Bergerac may be just the ticket.

Cousin Henry by Anthony Trollope

Plot: Beautiful but impoverished Isabel Brodrick is like a daughter to her aging uncle, Indefer Jones. She has been living with him since her father’s remarriage and has endeared herself to all of his servants and tenants.  Although the squire loves Isabel, he firmly believes that his property should be entailed to a male heir and writes a will bequeathing his wealth to his unpopular nephew, Henry Jones.  In the will a sum of money is set aside for Isabel, but by the time her uncle dies no cash remains to fulfill that clause.

After Indefer’s death, two tenants come forward, saying that they were witnesses to a last minute will, which bequeathed Llanfeare Manor to Isabel.  But since no such will could be found, Henry is given the keys to the house and Isabel moves back in with her father and his new family.

Everyone has their doubts about Cousin Henry and the validity of the present will.

My thoughts:  Trollope prided himself in writing unadventurous stories.  But unlike every other Trollope book I’ve read, this one was a real page turner.  No, it doesn’t have any more action than usual.  But it was a precursor to psychological thrillers because the action largely takes place in the mind of Cousin Henry.  Early in the book he commits an error and spends the rest of the book deciding whether he is innocent or guilty.  Can you be considered as guilty for NOT doing something as you could be for doing it?  It’s exciting to see how it all turns out.

Although I liked this book very much, I find I’m getting tired of stubborn heroines.  Maybe it’s because of Gwendolyn in Daniel Deronda (the book I’m reading now).  She (like Isabel from this book and Ayala from a previous Trollope novel) is so set on doing what she wants that she rides roughshod over other people’s hearts.  Oh, well.  A minor quibble over a book that will delight Trollope fans.

Ayala's Angel by Anthony Trollope

Long-time readers of my blog know that I’m an Anthony Trollope fan.  It takes patience to plow through his (purposely unadventurous) novels, but it’s worth the effort.   Ayala's Angel begins with the plight of two orphaned sisters who are shuffled off to different relatives.  Ayala goes to the rich uncle and Lucy to the poor one.   Both experience culture shock because neither girl has known the stinginess of poverty or the arrogance of wealth.

Lucy tries hard to make the best of her new life, but Ayala does little to earn the affection of her new family.  At first the reader assumes that Lucy is Ayala’s angel because of her sacrificial love for her.  But it isn’t long before we learn that Ayala has a dream of an “Angel of Light” who will come and take her away from the tediousness of her life. 

This angel is so huge in her mind that no mortal man can come close.  She refuses the marriage proposal of her wealthy cousin because he is too plebeian for her taste.  Although he is an honorable man, he is unromantic and his pretentious way of dressing is repugnant to her. Later she meets a man who she likes very much, but refuses his proposal because he isn’t as handsome as her imagined angel.  When a third suitor comes on the scene (who is also refused), I shared Mrs. Dosset’s confusion as to “the multiplicity of Ayala’s suitors”.   There is no real explanation in the book as to why this penniless women has such amazing powers of attraction.

Ayala’s Angel is a study of romantic love.   Ayala’s idea of it is so overblown that she almost misses her chance at happiness. “Her dreams had been to her a barrier against love, rather than an encouragement.” (from Chapter 55)  The more practical men in the book are convinced that “Love never put a leg of mutton in the pot,” meaning that financial security is better than romance.  Yet, Frank Houston gives up his gold-digging ways to marry the woman he really loves.

I liked this book, but thought it was about ten chapters too long.  It took twenty hours to listen to all 66 chapters and I tired of hearing about Tom Tringle’s persistence in pursuing Ayala and Ayala’s blindness as to which of the suitors was the real Angel of Light.  (He proposes in Chapter 25 and she finally accepts in 52!)

I would recommend reading this book rather than listening to it.  The audio version drags at times, but when I downloaded the book to re-read some of my favorite chapters, the tedium disappeared.  I chuckled happily through the brilliant dialogue and skimmed over the boring bits.

Quote by Anthony Trollope on Writing Books

If indeed a man writes his books badly, or paints his pictures badly, because he can make his money faster in that fashion than by doing them well, and at the same time proclaims them to be the best he can do, - if in fact, he sells shoddy for broadcloth, - he is dishonest, as is any other fraudulent dealer.

- Anthony Trollope from his Autobiography (1883)

Rachel Ray by Anthony Trollope

Anybody who has read my blog for any length of time knows that I love Anthony Trollope. He had me hooked when I first read The Small House at Allington and reeled me in for good with The Warden. I have read all of the Barsetshire and Palliser Chronicles (six volumes each). Some were better than others, but all were pleasing.

I had mixed feelings about Rachel Ray. First, this book was more of a straight love story than the others which may be a plus to most people, but I enjoy plots with a little more complexity. Second, although Rachel was a lovely young woman, I was frustrated by her lack of gumption. When her sweetheart was denied her, she basically wilted away. All of my favorite heroines suffer the loss of love (Jane Eyre, Anne Elliot, Elizabeth Bennett), but they persevere and live fruitful lives until their faithfulness is rewarded.

Third, I read the first half of the book with the vague feeling that something was missing. On page 275 I laughed out loud and then realized that Trollope’s wit had been absent in most of the previous pages. I always contend that his books can be dry, but that the witticisms keep you going. In the case of this book, you don’t get much pay off till the second half. If you’ve never read Trollope, this is definitely not the book to start with, but if you’re already a fan, you may be interested in the different style of this novel.

The Warden by Anthony Trollope

Although I’ve read a dozen Trollope novels, The Warden  is the one I always come back to. This time through I enjoyed it as much as ever. Probably more - since I’ve grown to love the protagonist so well.

Mr. Septimus Harding never ceases to amaze me with his self-effacing personality and kindliness. Early in the book accusations are hurled against him and instead of loudly proclaiming his innocence, he looks deep within himself to see if, in fact, they might be true. (“He was not so anxious to prove himself right as to be so.”) The decisions he makes as a result of his introspection could only be made by a man of utmost integrity and the way he treats those who have wronged him is nothing short of amazing. Somehow Trollope created a character with a startling ability to forgive others without making him disgustingly sweet. I. LOVE. MR. HARDING.

Because Trollope took pains to go against the grain of the sensationalist literature of his day, many modern readers find his books slow going. But if you like rich character descriptions, British witticisms and a relationship-driven (rather than action-driven) story line, you might want to give him a try. The friendships described in the book, especially those between Mr. Harding and the Bishop and between Mr. Harding and the elderly Mr. Bunce, are tender and touching. The not-so-gentle jabs at the power of the press in chapters 14 and 15 are insightful and comical. But let me warn you. There are five other books in the Barchester series. You may not be able to stop after just one.


(I listened to this via Librivox and although there were multiple readers, Andy Minter was far and away the best, capturing all the pathos of the novel with his lovely voice.)

How I Fell in Love With Anthony Trollope

I first heard about Trollope while reading What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew by Daniel Pool. Trollope was touted as the “anti-Dickens” for writing non-sensational stories about normal people in normal predicaments. He prided himself in being boring! I was intrigued enough to buy one of his books, but it remained on my book shelf for over a year. Then I became ill and was bed-ridden for a month. While devouring almost one book per day during my convalescence, I finally opened Trollope’s The Small House at Allington. I smiled with delight at the opening lines: Of course there was a Great House at Allington. How otherwise should there have been a Small House?

I happily plowed through the next 600 pages. Honestly, there were some very dry, dull moments. But suddenly I would come upon some Trollope gem (one of his keen and witty insights into human nature) and it would encourage me to keep on going. I was hooked! Later I read all of the books in the Barsetshire Chronicles. The Warden  (book one in the series) is probably the most readable of all of Trollope’s books. Another series, The Complete Palliser Novels, is only for diehard Trollope fans (much harder going, but still worth it.) Here’s hoping some of you get seriously (but not fatally) ill and give Trollope a try.