Showing posts with label Scandal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scandal. Show all posts

Thursday, August 1, 2019

Classics Corner: The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne; Still Relevant Classic of Scandal, Hypocrisy, Secret Sin, and Redemption







Classics Corner: The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne; Still Relevant Classic of Scandal, Hypocrisy, Secret Sin, and Redemption




By Julie Sara Porter

Bookworm Reviews




Spoilers: Nathaniel Hawthorne was familiar with the concept of secret sin. He was a descendant of one of the judges of the Salem Witch Trials and even added the “w” to the last name Hathorne to disassociate himself from his ancestors. His mother's ancestors had an accusation of incest and were temporarily forced to wear an “I” on their clothing.


Even Hawthorne's writings are all about guilt and secret sins that are inside people. His short story “Young Goodman Brown,” features a young man who sees a witch's sabbat conducted by members of the community including his wife. While the story never tells us if the sabbat was real or a dream, it changes Brown's perception of the people around him and he suspects everyone in town of being in league with the Devil.

Another story “The Minister's Black Veil” also captures those themes. In that one, a minister covers his face in a black veil. The villagers are unnerved by the veil and can't convince him to remove it. The minister never reveals the reason that he wears the veil except on his deathbed, he says that he sees a veil on everyone's face. The story suggests that the veil is a symbol for the darkness and secrets that are inside everyone. The minister just chooses to bring his out in the open.


Hawthorne's best work, The Scarlet Letter covers those concepts of hidden darkness and secret sin and how they can either redeem a person or trap them into their own personal Hell.

In 17th century Boston, Hester Prynne is forced to wear a red “A” on her bosom and stand in the pillory for an hour every day. The reason for this is that even though she is married and she arrived in New England ahead of her husband, she had a child with another man. (The A more than likely stands for Adultery.)

Hester and her daughter, Pearl have to face a cold judgmental Puritan community and two men in particular. The first is Roger Chillingsworth who is every bit as warm hearted as his name. He is a physician recently arrived in town and is, surprise, Hester's husband.

The other man is the Rev. Arthur Dimmesdale, a young minister who wants Hester to open up to her sin and admit who is the father of her child. Though he shouldn't have to ask because, double surprise, he's Pearl's father.

Hawthorne's interest in guilt and secret sin manifests itself into his characters in interesting ways. While Hester is vilified by the community, she is able to reinvent herself. First, her A isn't just stitched onto her dress. It is embroidered and embellished, showing great care in her work. To support herself and her daughter, Hester takes up sewing and embroidery. While Puritans are legendarily plain dressed people, they were only human and didn't mind a little character once in awhile. Hester makes gloves for governors, dressing gowns for babies, and other accessories.

While no one in Boston would dare cross her path, invite her for tea, or even eject a particularly warm friendly hello to the woman, eventually they don't mind bragging to their friends that they own a Hester Prynne Original accessory.

Hester’s career shows her as an artist and an outsider. She can't openly rebel against her circumstances, so she puts all of her pain and care into her work. Note, she doesn't just wear the A. She embellishes it. She dramatizes it. As though she is revealing her creativity and originality under the conservative law abiding shell.

The other thing that Hester does during her long sentence is good work. While most people, myself included, would probably say “the hell with those people” and ignore them, Hester does not do this. Instead she gives medicine to the sick and counsels people who are lost and distressed. As an outsider, she has compassion for others and understanding for their plight. Ironically, she is stronger because of the isolation that she had to endure therefore has more empathy for those who are poor, sick, and alone.

In contrast to Hester, Dimmesdale’s turmoil is all internal. He has to act like a convincing minister and community leader on the outside, while he is tormented on the inside with his guilt of having been with Hester. Dimmesdale flagellates himself and feels shame burning inside his heart. He tells no one except Hester leaving his guilt to churn inside him.

As Heater grows stronger in her suffering, Dimmesdale grows weaker because of the hypocrisy he forces on himself. Ironically, it is only right before he reveals himself enough to stand in the pillory with Hester and Pearl that he gives the best sermon of his career as if in admitting his own guilt and double standard, he frees himself. Like Heater with her art, he has finally put himself forward with his art of public speaking to show his true self.

Dimmesdale's secret sin makes him prey for Chillingsworth who plays on his guilt and suffering thereby physically and mentally weakening him. Dimmesdale may long to seek repentance, but Chillingsworth does not because in his eyes, he did nothing wrong except marry a woman younger than him.

He is the Salem judge, the self-proclaimed man of God, the hypocritical politician, the Holier than Thou town's leader who judges the people under him while preying on their weaknesses. He is the man who cries loudest for punishment without admitting his own misdeeds and involvements which are often similar or worse than the ones that are public. Unfortunately, as is so often true he receives little to no retribution for his cruelty towards Hester and Dimmesdale.

The fourth character is the most unique of all: Pearl, the daughter of Hester and Dimmesdale. She is often described as a fairy or elf child as though she were a being outside of this world. Because her mother raised her as an outsider, she is free to express herself in ways the other characters do not. Her mother dresses her in the beautiful clothes that she makes instead of somber Puritanical clothing. She is bold and upfront where most Puritan children her age would be obedient and quiet. She asks questions such as “Why does (Dimmesdale) put his hand over his heart like he's in pain?” Because she lives outside of societal laws, Pearl is not beholden to them. She is able to argue and fight expressing the anger that her mother suppresses and articulating the sadness that her father hides.


Among the most intriguing developments about The Scarlet Letter is is how relevant this story still is. True, we are not likely to hang people for witchcraft or make people wear letters decrying their latest sin. But sex scandals are still the order of the day and now as then women are often held to a different standards than men. You only need to look as far as the headlines to see this.

In the recent sexual harassment accusations in the wake of Me Too/Time's Up look at how many men are accused of harassment. Okay look how many men who are tried, convicted, and found guilty. So far one: Bill Cosby. How many have either been given a light sentence or kept their jobs from entertainment to politics? How many women who have come forward are the ones who are shamed, vilified, put in hiding, and/or branded as liars or sluts “who were asking for it”?

There are still Hester Prynnes that are fallen women or are considered sluts or liars. There are still Arthur Dimmesdales who refuse to come forward when they need to but for whatever reason won't. There are Roger Chillingsworths who feign shock at the proceedings but hide their own misdeeds under cloaks of respectability. There are Pearl Prynnes who speak out and often are forced to bear the brunt of previous generations.

We really haven't moved as far as we thought from Hester's day.

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

New Book Alert: The Companion by Kim Taylor Blakemore; Intriguing Suspense, But Lack of Character Development In Novel About Forbidden Love and Murder in 19th Century New England







New Book Alert: The Companion by Kim Taylor Blakemore; Intriguing Suspense, But Lack of Character Development In Novel About Forbidden Love and Murder in 19th Century New England




By Julie Sara Porter

Bookworm Reviews





Spoilers: Kim Taylor Blakemore’s The Companion is one of those novels that begins in a way where you think you know everything, but then it turns you around into being about something else entirely different. In this case, it makes for a novel with an intriguing suspenseful plot but lacks in character development.

In the opening, a woman is awaiting her execution and tells the Reader that she is responsible for three maybe four deaths. So, the Reader prepares for a novel about a serial killer explaining how she killed her victims. Instead, we learn that everything is not as cut and dry as we thought and the woman on death row is less a villainess and more of a victim.


The woman on death row is Lucy West and she was originally hired as a maid in the home of a 19th century well-to-do New English couple, The Burtons. Even in the first few pages, there are hints that all is not as it seems. There is the fact that Lucy's predecessor, Mary mysteriously drowned. Eugenie Burton, the mistress of the house, is blind and has to be led around but harbors some other eccentric behaviors. Rebecca, Eugenie's companion is highly suspicious and intensely jealous of any attention that anyone else gives Eugenie. Then there is Lucy who is herself a contradiction by hinting that her references are fake and is in grieving for her deceased son.

Blakemore is great at building suspense. Even though the book is told in flashback from Lucy's first person perspective, we only get droplets of information as Lucy (and Blakemore) sees fit to show us. Early on we learn her son, Ned, died but we don't learn how or the circumstances surrounding his birth and death and why this results in her being on the run until later in the book.

We learn about the death of poor Mary, but don't learn how it is connected to the rest of the book until later. For a long time, Mary is almost a red herring until suddenly she isn't.

While the suspense is palpable and makes you question the plot and character, unfortunately it comes at the expense of good characterization. The Reader is always on guard so they don't get much of a chance to understand or even empathize with the characters including Lucy.

Lucy purposely hides information and doesn't let the Reader in on her real intentions that once the resolution is made, we have to read back a few pages to make sure we understood it. It doesn't help that Lucy makes herself a subject of suspicion as many people sharing prison with her remark that she doesn't feel remorse for any of her crimes, when at least one should have based on the information we are eventually given.

The lack of characterization in favor of suspense also doesn't do other characters any favors. Rebecca seems to have been auditioning for the role of Mrs. Danvers in Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca (maybe intentionally so, considering the name). We get the creepy servant part, but we don't get what made her so trustworthy and alluring to Eugenie in the first place.

Eugenie Burton, who is by far the most intriguing character, falters as well. She and Lucy get involved in a romantic relationship which has some sweet moments but is tempered with more suspense. Their romance of course plays into the conventions of its day and it is interesting how the two women manage to coordinate their alone time away from prying judgmental eyes. However, Eugenie and Lucy's romance is hampered by accusations that Lucy is one of many extramarital Sapphic flings Eugenie has had. We are not sure whether it's malicious gossip or the truth and honestly Eugenie's behavior suggests that it could go either way.

Unfortunately one of the strongest most emotional moments, when Lucy and Eugenie agree to run away together is muted by the machinations of the plot and the realization that nothing in either woman's previous behavior suggests that this is plausible or even a believable outcome.

A novel that is built on suspense cannot just rely on the twists in the plot to keep the Reader interested. Sure it will keep them reading and guessing. In the end, it may even surprise them. But a good suspense novel has to give us strong identifiable characters that experience the twists and surprises. Otherwise, the suspense falls flat.

Sunday, March 31, 2019

Women's History Month Classics Corner: The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton; Edith Wharton's Savage and Sharp Exposure of Gilded Age New York



Women’s History Month Classics Corner: The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton; Edith Wharton's Savage and Sharp Exposure of Gilded Age New York

By Julie Sara Porter 

Bookworm Reviews




Spoilers: Sometimes a writer has to live within the world they write about to really understand it. They give the Readers an Inside Outsider's Perspective because they know that world and how the people within it think and operate. No one understood that concept more than Edith Wharton (1862-1937). The world that she lived in and wrote about was late 19th-early 20th century Upperclass New York society, the Gilded Age.

Similar to F. Scott Fitzgerald, a later author who also wrote about elite New Yorkers, Wharton viewed the behaviors of the people around her with a detachment, cynicism, and irony that showed outsiders that all was not pleasant inside these palatial homes, designer dresses, expensive jewelry, and marriages of wealth and convenience. This was a place that Wharton knew all too well.


Wharton was born Edith Newbold Jones, the last of three children, to George Frederic Jones and Lucretia Stevens Rhinelander, a well-to-do New York City couple. (Reportedly her father's family was so well known for their affluence, that they actually inspired the phrase “keeping up with the Joneses.”) Her family traveled a great deal so Wharton studied many languages and read voraciously. (Though her mother forbade her from reading novels until she was an adult.)

Wharton's relationship with her parents was fractured. Her father was frequently away from the house and Edith almost never saw him. Her mother was critical especially when she started writing. An anecdote displaying her mother's cold nature is told: Edith presented her first novel to her mother when she was eleven. When she read a description in which the main character had to tidy up a drawing room before a guest's arrival, Mom simply said “Drawing rooms are always tidy” and returned the book to her. Dismayed, Edith wrote poetry until she was 15 and had her first work published, a translation of a German poem. Instead of bursting with pride, Edith's mother wanted her daughter's name removed considering a career as an author unsuitable for a girl of Edith's standards.


While Wharton was climbing towards a literary career, she had her debutante season. She married Edward “Teddy” Robbins Wharton, a Boston socialite in 1885. While he was from the same class, the marriage was extremely unhappy. Teddy was bipolar and was prone to rages, jealous tirades, and spending and behaving recklessly. When Teddy was at his worst in 1908, Wharton began an affair with Morton Fullerton, a journalist who was her intellectual equal. Teddy worsened until his disorder was declared incurable and Wharton divorced him in 1913.

Wharton traveled extensively and after her divorce settled in France. When WWI broke out, she became involved in relief efforts and was ultimately awarded the Legion D'Honneur.

Wharton was a prolific writer writing 85 short stories, 11 non-fiction books mostly on her travels, several poems, and 18 novels (Her first novel published when she was 40.) In 1921, she won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction for her book The Age of Innocence, becoming the first women to do so. Two years later, Willa Cather would replicate that feat with her book One of Ours.

Many of Wharton's novels feature rich characters in fancy homes and outsiders trying to find their way inside that rich life with the swells trying to keep them out. The Custom of the Country features a woman scheming her way into advantageous marriages and leaving a few bodies in her wake. Another novel, The Buccaneers concerns a group of American wealthy women who marry English aristocrats so the guys can get their fortune and the girls can get titles. (Think of it as Downton Abbey: The Early Years). Her Pulitzer winning novel The Age of Innocence explores an American upperclassman's scandalous romance with a countess who has been exiled from New York society because of her divorce. Then there's my favorite of Wharton's novels, her first, The House of Mirth. All of them feature characters who scheme, plot, bicker, and would gladly sell their mothers, children, and souls for a chance at the high life.

The House of Mirth is about a character like that: Lily Bart, a young woman who dreams of a life in high society but her attempts ultimately bring about her decline and self-destruction. It's interesting that I am reading The House of Mirth at the same time that I am reading Middlemarch and contrasting how different the protagonists are over money and their status as women. Dorothea Brooke maybe from a wealthy family but she is rebelling from it towards a life of meaning and service. Lily Bart longs to retreat into the life that she was reared for. Lily longs to be what Dorothea fought against: a decorative set piece for a rich man to marry. The House of Mirth is almost Middlemarch if Rosamond Vincy were the main character, albeit a more interesting multi-faceted Rosamond Vincy but still she and Lily Bart would have a lot in common.

Lily is the type of woman who was brought up for only two purposes: be beautiful and marry wealth. She has been aware of this fact ever since she was a child and saw her father lose his wealth partly because of her mother's frivolous spending. She hardly ever saw her father because he worked to get their fortune back and her mother was cold and unemotional (shades of Wharton's own upbringing). After her parent's deaths, she ended up in the care of a wealthy aunt, Julia Peniston who financially supports Lily but the two don't care to be around each other.

Lily is constantly aware that her life is one where she is held under scrutiny and her every movement is judged. Even when she sees a male friend alone in his hotel room, she has to invent a lie to an acquaintance rather than let any suspicion get out. This behavior leaves her to wonder “Why must a girl pay so dearly for her latest escape from routine? Why could one never do a natural thing without screening it behind a screen of artifice?”

Lily is aware that her upbringing leaves her no opportunities except to be a rich man's wife and at the age of 29, she is running out of time. She is anxious over how others perceive her so much that it becomes a central focus of her life. With good reason too as her every step is monitored by people whose malicious gossip can destroy faster than any conventional weapon.

One near engagement with a boring rich man, Percy Gryce, ends after he becomes aware of Lily's penchant for gambling by playing bridge and her presumed flirtations with men. He instead marries a dull homebody socialite with no past and not much of a personality.

Lily's gambling puts her so far in debt that a crooked financier, Gus Trenor, offers to pay off her debt- for a horizontal price. While she refuses, plenty of people have seen them together in public enough for rumors to spread and reach the ears of Trevor's wife, Judy who is Lily's best friend. Lily not only loses a potential husband but a close friendship as well.

A common theme in The House of Mirth is the double standards between the have and have-nots. Someone like Lily who is struggling to be accepted could have a ruined reputation if it even appears that she had stepped one toe out of line. However, the wealthy elite can behave however they want in their inner circle with minimal repercussions. Carry Fisher, a divorcee, lives as freely as she chooses and while is the source of much derision, she is able to laugh it off and live life according to her terms. Surprisingly, Carry is also one of the few genuinely kind honest characters in the book by drawing in new people that are on the fringes of society like the nouveau riche Wellington Brys and Simon Rosedale, a Jewish businessman trying to climb the ladder of wealth. Carry is also one of the few people that still gives Lily a warm reception after she is ostracized because of scandal.

Another person who is Teflon to gossip is Bertha Dorset, a bitchy socialite whom Lily tries to befriend but ends up becoming her nemesis. Bertha is the Queen Bee of New York's social set, the In Crowd Cheerleader/Female Bully all grown up. She has multiple affairs on her clueless husband, George and is skillful at covering them up. When Lily is unable to distract George long enough during a disastrous cruise to the Mediterranean, Bertha deflects the situation by accusing Lily of having an affair with her husband so no one will know Bertha was having an affair with her own lover, Ned Silverton.

Bertha's acknowledgement of Lily's ostracism leads to various ripples that cause Lily's final exile from the society she longed to be a part of. Even her aunt disinherits her in her will leaving Lily destitute working as a social secretary and later for a milliner.

At no point is Lily portrayed as a shallow superficial one-dimensional character. True she has her hang ups about clothes, fancy homes, and being part of the high society set. But she is fully aware that is all she is meant to be. Her background gives her very few alternatives to seek happiness beyond marrying wealth. She isn't like Dorothea Brooke who had the intelligence and drive but was born in the wrong time to use them. All Lily has is to be the Trophy Wife of a rich man and when that is taken from her, she has nothing to fall back on.

Lily questions her status quite often and wishes that she could be free to marry for love. Nowhere is this more evident than in her relationship with Lawrence Seldon, a lawyer who though has many wealthy friends is not himself rich. He pursues Lily for a time clearly in love with her, but Lily regrettably breaks him off because she needs to marry money.

She can't marry for love without financial security because she doesn't know how to do it. After Lawrence is convinced the rumors about her with other men are true and he temporarily leaves her, she is filled with genuine regret that she ended what could have been a good relationship.

Lily also shows a great deal of integrity. When a former servant and Rosedale use letters that expose a former affair between Lawrence and surprise surprise Bertha (another reason why Lily is on Bertha's “People to See Lives to Ruin” List) as potential blackmail, Lily refuses to do so.

She is too honest for the society that she wants to join and eventually abandons her. This abandonment ultimately leads to the end where Lily is left alone with only her regrets and a bottle of chloral hydrate.

The House of Mirth allowed Edith Wharton to expose the world in which she was raised for the cold, superficial, unfeeling world that it was. She revealed the people on the fringes were swallowed whole by the callous and malicious people on the inside. If they couldn't join, they would be trampled underneath and Lily Bart was.