Great Stories Are Forever
By Dave King | September 17, 2024 |
![Mary insists that Frank obey his family’s wishes and not see her anymore.]](https://staging-writerunboxed.kinsta.cloud/wp-content/uploads/2024/09/drthorne2-1-300x246.jpg)
Mary insists that Frank obey his family’s wishes and not see her anymore.
As writers, you always want to be pushing the boundaries of your reading. With that in mind, I’ve turned this month’s article over to my business partner, personal editor, fellow writer, and wife. Ruth can’t go very long without going back to her very favorite genre, nineteenth-century British novels, and her expertise far exceeds mine. Enjoy. Dave King
When I’m altogether tired of modern novels with their political correctness, literary preciousness, and occasional whiffs of meaninglessness — when I am, in short, weary of the modern world — I go back to my best reading joy: British novels of the mid-nineteenth century.
It was such a prodigious age for stories that the variety of novels written is enough to suit every reader-writer. One of my favorites is Thackery, where we meet the deplorable Becky Sharp, who lands herself in Brussels just in time for the battle of Waterloo. Thackery’s description of that world-changing carnage is the best account of the battle that I have ever seen in any source in literature or history. For those who would like to discover what kind of depressed and diminished history we women have triumphantly overcome, there are many nineteenth century sources. Think of the helplessness of a woman in a terrible marriage in The Mill on the Floss, or the misery of the sweet, young governess, Jane Eyre, betrayed by her arrogant and lordly employer.
But when I settle into a novel by my favorite author, Anthony Trollope, I am at home in a world where the characters are as modern and familiar as those around me in my own life. And his female characters are always as real as I am myself.
Lately, I’ve been revisiting The Chronicles of Barsetshire, his most famous work (with possible competition from The Pallisers). One of my favorites is the third in the series, Dr. Thorne, the account of a country doctor with no pretentions as to his profession. He is looked down on by those who cater only to the health of the upper class because he charges the same modest fee to everyone, rich or poor. He takes responsibility for his brother’s great sin in sexually forcing a dependent servant girl. After the death of the rapist, the servant falls in love with a man of her class who wants to emigrate to America but does not want to raise another man’s child. Dr. Thorne takes responsibility for the infant Mary, has her looked after by friends at a distance through infancy, gives her a fine education, and brings her as a young adult to Barsetshire, introducing her to the world as his niece.
Of course, she and Frank, the heir to the nearest stately home fall madly in love, though she is a penniless, illegitimate child, and Frank must marry money because his father has encumbered the vast acreage of his property with countless debts. The novel follows the story of how these two unlikely lovers find their happy ending against fearsome odds.
In the not-yet-formed structure of nineteenth-century novels, the author can do whatever he or she pleases and often does. So don’t be put off by, say, the interruption in Mary’s story for a corrupt election. Trollope’s father running for Parliament in a corrupt election nearly bankrupted the family, so Trollope has much he wants to share and nothing to stop him. If you find these excursions into the author’s concerns tedious, speed read through them or skip them altogether.
But other places where the standards of a novel were rough and unformed show in splendid detail how the writer wrote. Watch how Trollope creates Mary’s appearance out of thin air:
Of her personal appearance it certainly is my business as an author to say something. She is my heroine, and, as such, must necessarily be very beautiful; but, in truth, her mind and inner qualities are more clearly distinct to my brain than her outward form and features. I know that she was far from being tall, and far from being showy; that her feet and hands were small and delicate; that her eyes were bright when looked at, but not brilliant so as to make their brilliancy palpably visible to all around her; her hair was dark brown, and worn very plainly brushed from her forehead; her lips were thin, and her mouth, perhaps, in general inexpressive, but when she was eager in conversation it would show itself to be animated with curves of wonderous energy; and, quiet as she was in manner, sober and demure as was her usual settled appearance, she could talk, when the fit came on her, with an energy which in truth surprised those who did not know her; aye, and sometimes those who did. Energy! Nay, it was occasionally a concentration of passion, which left her for the moment perfectly unconscious of all other cares but solicitude for that subject which she might then be advocating.
So find your way into your own favorite nineteenth century novel, learn the basics when novelists were just learning them themselves, and bring it back to modern writing. There are great novels waiting to be written all around us.
Which nineteenth century writers (or any century) do you turn to for escape? What have you learned about story from them?
Dave King has been editing for nearly 40 years now. He is co-author of Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, a former contributing editor to Writer’s Digest, and has contributed more than 100 articles over the last 12 years to Writer Unboxed. He lives on 25 acres in rural Massachusetts with his business partner and wife, Ruth Julian, who also edits his work. His other day job, at least on Sundays, is as the organist at a Lutheran church in Greenfield, Mass.
[coffee]
Hello Ruth, and thanks for this shoutout for nineteenth century novels. The critic James Wood has written on the failures of some of the most lauded novelists of the current moment–Franzen, DeLillo, Rushdie–and what he says about them can be added to your list of reasons to embrace earlier fiction writers.
Principally, Wood’s criticism has to do with how these current writers develop highly complicated, overly invented plots, but whose characters never come to life. I think the reason has to do with serious writers’ fear of being accused of sentimentality, of writing melodrama. So, they go to the opposite extreme, and create characters who are highly animated yet lifeless. Nothing of the kind can be said of Trollope or of the other major figures you have in mind.
Thanks again.
Wood is so right. One long summer in my youth, when I could not find a job, I read all of the literary novels then in fashion and decided that I would always choose story over jargon. I believe it was Thomas Pynchon’s V that ended any curiosity I had about the genre. I would no more read an award-winning novelist than I would wear one of the hideous creations that comes down the runway during New York’s Fashion Week.
Welcome to WU, Ruth! It’s a pleasure to have you with us today.
I thought it could make for a worthy exercise to describe a character in Trollope’s piecemeal-style. Turns out, it’s also fun:
Thanks for the inspiration, Ruth!
Oh, that is so you, to turn Trollope into a writing exercise. And you’re right, it’s a terrific way to learn how to create a character. And you’ve executed the task so well yourself. Love the tattoo detail!
Therese, I loved your character description. So vivid and intriguing! You captured the confiding authorial voice well.
Also, this was such a fun article to read, Ruth. So nice to encounter another Trollope fan.
Maybe we will meet again someday, to spend time with Septimus Harding, my all-time favorite Trollope character. I will go to my grave loving that man.
This is a great idea, Therese, and a worthy prompt for us all!
I think I”m going to have to hit the library for some “fresh” 19th century inspiration .hanks, Ruth!
Delightful post, Ruth. thank you!!!
Thank you Dave and Ruth for this lovely, interesting post. My older brother, John Pfordresher, is a Victorian scholar who was educated at Georgetown and then taught English literature there during most of his career. Now retired, he often goes back to the novels he taught and loved…Trollope being his very favorite. Yes, John would love this piece and enjoy hours discussing Trollope with you. And though he has encouraged me, I have been a very disappointing sister, having NEVER read this writer. I might have seen filmed versions of his work, but we all know that is NOT THE SAME. Trollope achieved what many writers hope to do…recreating a society so perfectly, that you might see him as an historian as well as a novelist.
As an older sibling myself, I’ll just take this opportunity to point out that, sometimes we’re right.
Ruth, loved your examples. I’ve never read Trollope so must remedy it. I have mixed feelings about digressions in novels–I’ve put down many because they pulled me out of the story. But as I get older, I’ve become more patient and rather enjoy them. Ex, the chapter on the flea in Hamnet. That might’ve been my favorite chapter actually, lol.
My favorite 19th century British novelist has changed depending on how old I was. As a child it was Kipling, then Dickens, and finally Thomas Hardy. He captures the plight of the suffering soul so well. I appreciate his realism. I’ve never read Trollope and must remedy it.
Every reader has to choose what to do with places in nineteenth-century novels that modern editors would have cut. You’re right that they get easier as we get older. For me, the fiction lover sleeps while the historian takes over.
My husband and I love Anthony Trollope! My favorite novel is probably The Small House at Allington which is part of the Barsetshire series.
As a matter of fact, I included a mention of Trollope in my third novel, Time After Tyme, when two young girls are tiptoeing through a library, trying to sneak up on a romantic couple. “We crept real quietly into the Tr-Wa row. as we passed Anthony Trollope, I saw an opening ahead at Mark Twain.” (Twain is another favorite.)
Does anybody else insert mentions of their favorite authors in their own novels?
Yes, you’re in good company. Jane Austen mentions Mrs. Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Udolpho in Northanger Abbey, though not in a flattering light. Mrs. Radcliffe wrote gothic novels, and parts of Northanger Abbey are a parody of her work. Of course, the real villain turns out to be a flesh and blood, greedy gentleman.
Edith Wharton, Charles Dickens, Alexander Dumas, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Herman Melville, Edgar Allan Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Stephen Crane. I could go on and on. It is about character-building. The reader identifies with characters who are dynamic, who evolve through the story’s conflict. A key element is also character interaction. The characters should be universal, ordinary personalities in extraordinary or challenging circumstances. Then they become, as you say, as ‘familiar as those around me in my own life.’ And so we as readers grow.
Yes. And when we pay attention, we also grow as writers.
Ruth & Dave, what an interesting post. Nice to meet you, Ruth. Your writing talent matches Dave’s. I know nothing about 19th century authors & books. However interesting, I’m into modern historical fiction, reading & writing! The 19th century writing does have merit. Descriptive writing at its best! Thank you for this eye-opening post, Ruth. 📚🎶 Christine
I’m also a great fan of historical fiction. One of my favorites is the Morland Saga by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles. One thing I really love about them is that they just go on and on and on. They still may be going on. It started in the War of the Roses, and I found it growing a little redundant at about volume 23, in the twentieth century. Do you know it?
I’m absolutely mad about 19th-century authors (SUMMER by Edith Wharton is my all-time favorite book, and I will never recover from knowing that one of her previous domiciles here in New York City is now a Starbucks.) VANITY FAIR is a masterpiece. It’s so good to know I’m not the only “freak” whose literary happy place exists two-hundred years ago. Have you ever read Frances Burney’s EVELINA? It predates the 19th century, but it is marvelous.
No, I haven’t, but I think she’s mentioned in Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey.
Amen and bless you. I have two piles of books to read, the hand full of new covers and the tall stack where once finished it goes bak on the bottom.
Character, Character, character, setting ( in a sense another character) plot and somewhere in the far corner hides Theme. Especially any theme concerning modern politics.
Back then a story was told, as if beside the fire in a big stone fireplace by an uncle or grand father with a resonant voice. Digression was parcel to the method, “do you remember” did I tell you” now let me clarify…” The narrator was part of the telling. Tangents were a means for expanding and relating. Almost every author exampled above did serial posts in newspapers before a book was published. Populations knew the characters well in advance. Secondary characters became leading. News and politics did filter in more often than not.
Secondary characters in Trollope tend to have amusing names. I think my favorite is the curate with a dozen children and more on the way, the Reverend Quiverfull. Dr. Fillgrave is fun, too. What’s your favorite?