The Other Jane Austen novel

Wives and Daughters may be the most satisfying unfinished novel ever

The subtitle to Wives and Daughters is, “An Everyday Story.” The writer is Elizabeth Gaskell – during her time she was known to fans as, “Mrs. Gaskell,” because, well, she was a proper married lady and that was just the custom.

Meh, you might be thinking right now. Some old fuddy duddy Victorian lady writing boring stories about everyday life. I’ll pass.

 You do so at your loss.

Gaskell is actually one of the coolest under-the-radar Victorians out there. Incidentally, being from the Victorian times does not make you an out-of-touch prude. Gaskell had the stereotypical profile: farm girl grown into a robust beauty, married to a minister and mother to multiple children. The reality is, she was very intellectual, great with people, well traveled and passionate about life. Oh, and she could write a damn good story. About everyday life.

So let’s talk about Wives and Daughters.

Molly Gibson is the daughter of a widowed doctor who is quite respected in his community. The two of them have a very cozy relationship and Molly lives a carefree sort of life with no wish for anything further. Mr. Gibson, on the other hand, feels that he should become even more respectable and thinks of getting a mother for Molly. Enter the eligible, widowed Mrs. Hyacinth Clare Fitzpatrick.

Oh, so it’s going to be a Cinderella story, is it? Not so fast.

It’s true that the new Mrs. Gibson is both vain and self absorbed. [“Marriage is the natural thing,” she declares. “Then the husband has all that kind of dirty work to do and his wife sits in the drawing-room like a lady”). And she does indeed have a daughter of her own, which means that Molly now has a stepsister as well. But unlike what you might expect, Mr. Gibson does not die. And Mrs. Gibson is not wicked. In fact, she treats Molly quite well and favors her over her own daughter, the hotheaded beauty Cynthia. There’s a bit of power struggle, you see. And Molly and Cynthia – why, they become best friends.

So the guy…Prince Charming or whoever. Does he come onto the scene? Are there two Prince Charmings or what?

 In the old town where the Gibson family lives also resides the eminent old Hamley family. “The Hamleys of Hamley” who have been there since time immemorial, as their old fashioned and blue-blooded patriarch Squire Hamley loves to affirm. The Hamleys have two sons. Of course.

There’s a kind of a clash going on between the supremely handsome elder son, Osborne– who’s a bit more cosmopolitan and open-minded, shall we say – and his old man. Osborne is looked to as the shining star and the more promising of the two. He’s got a sensitive side and a knack for poetry. Good-natured Roger, on the other hand, loves crawling around in the outdoors and studying bugs. He and Ma Hamley help to mediate when the old Squire and Osbourne don’t see eye to eye.

Then Ma Hamley gets really sick and all of Hamley Hall is in a funk. And of course, Molly and Cynthia are involved as the drama plays out. But things don’t happen quite as you might expect, and Molly discovers a great and shocking secret about one of the Hamley sons that she must keep to herself.

Wives and Daughters, put simply, is a great story with a plot and characters that draw you in. And it translates to any age and any time.

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I know, there’s even something Jane Austen-y about Elizabeth Gaskell’s portrait.

 You know how Jane Austen stories have been adapted into contemporary and even multi-cultural film versions? Wives and Daughters is also one of those laugh-cry-laugh again whirlwind storylines that could translate into an awesome modern adaptation. I wish they would make one.

Mr. Gibson and Hyacinth’s blissful expectations soon turn into dysfunctional reality as they butt heads on how to run the household. I swear Gaskell must have had Pride and Prejudice’s Mr. Bennett in mind when we see Mr. Gibson in the parlor, grumbling behind his newspapers as Mrs. Gibson prattles on.   Yet we never see Mr. and Mrs. Bennett have an uncomfortably real argument beside the fireplace as Gaskell so masterfully shows Mr. and Mrs. Gibson having.

Cynthia may also be vain like her mother, but we sympathize with her history because her mother emotionally neglected her. In front of men she is the stereotypical siren type who wears an “armour of magic” and exercises an “unconscious power of fascination” over those around her; but Molly knows who Cynthia is deep down and that’s how they are such friends.

One of my favorite lines is when Cynthia confesses to Molly:

“But it’s no use talking; I am not good, and I never shall be now. Perhaps I might be a heroine still, but I shall never be a good woman, I know.”

What was that famous phrase about good girls rarely making history?

Anyways, Cynthia is a mess at times, but we feel for her.   And we’re intrigued and a little intimidated by her mysterious suitor, Mr. Preston (yet another great character for the screen).

Molly may be the “good girl” of the story and the foil to Cynthia and her recklessness, but that doesn’t mean she’s drab. Unlike a 1-dimensional Dickens heroine who sits prettily in a chair all day and smilingly acquiesces to everything around her, Molly has a bit of fire in her. She is her father’s daughter, after all. And she’s always ready to save the day:

“He shall not!” said Molly, rising up in her indignation, and standing before Cynthia almost as resolutely fierce as if she were in the very presence of Mr. Preston himself. “I am not afraid of him. He dares not insult me, or if he does, I do not care.   I will ask him for those letters, and see if he dare refuse me.”

 I have a feeling Molly Gibson and Lizzie Bennett would’ve gotten along.

Lest you think this is a female-centric book with male characters as mere props, Mrs. Gaskell does a splendid job with men as well. Squire Hamley is one of her best creations: he’s an old codger, crusty, insular and even xenophobic and suspicious of anything foreign. We might hear a trace of an old red-necked relative of our own when Mr. Hamley says to Roger about his science book: “I should have understood it better if they could have called the animals by they English names, and not put so much of their French jingo into it.” He goes on to brag about how the British defeated the French at the Battle of Waterloo in a way that would make any liberal at the dinner table cringe.

But Squire Hamley is no hard-hearted villain or stock character. Like many fathers we know, he is very tender deep down and terrified of anything that could harm his family. When he is finally forced to face some of his worst fears we see the true Squire Hamley emerge and let’s just say…he just might be my favorite character in the whole book.

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Squire Hamley – you just gotta love him.  (Imagine from TheVillageSmith.wordpress.com).

Finally, Gaskell is just an all-round whiz at understanding human nature.

 I don’t know if it’s a specific attribute of 19th century female authors because women back then spent so much time in close quarters with other people, but Elizabeth Gaskell understood people. And she knew how to write about it – and make it funny.

Just check out this passage, describing a young man who is smitten with a vivacious and charming female:

He was at that age when young men admired a formed beauty more than a face with any amount of future capability of loveliness, and when they are morbidly conscious of the difficulty of finding subjects of conversation in talking to girls in a state of feminine hobbledehoyhood.

 I think, given the nature of this description I am 90% sure I can guess what “hobbledehoyhood” is. What an awesome word. I will need to start using that from now on.

A final thought about Wives and Daughters.

It was left unfinished due to Gaskell’s sudden death. But that doesn’t mean it’s not satisfying.

 You can see where things are going at the close of the novel. Without spoiling things, I will say this: the unexpected perk of the sudden and unfinished ending is that, depending on how you feel about the situation, you can imagine exactly the ending you want. Personally, for me that made it more gratifying. And for all I know, the ideal ending I had in mind is the same one Gaskell had imagined. Maybe not. Ignorance is bliss.

According to Wikipedia, (who is to be trusted about 50% of the time) Mrs. Gaskell was influenced by Jane Austen. The similarities are hard to deny and there definitely is an appeal there. But Wives and Daughters is absolutely worth reading for its own sake.

 

 

*Note:  Although this is a review for the book, the character images are taken from the BBC film adaptation.  This is because, well, photos of real people are nicer to look at than old first edition sketches.  Also, the BBC adaptation is pretty good.  But not as good as the book, let’s face it.