On Literature (or how to be pretentious without effort)
Wednesday, June 25th, 2008 03:49 pmIt is interesting to see some of the discussions the latest ‘literary meme’ has kicked off. I frankly couldn’t be arsed to do it for two reasons, neither of them deeply thought out: firstly, I get annoyed by memes and usually ignore them. In this case I acknowledged its existence and made a couple of comments, but didn’t give it any more thought than that. Secondly, I was a little embarrassed by how few I had actually read (though relieved that I had read more than six).
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binidj I find most nineteenth century literature tedious in the extreme – or at least nineteenth century English literature as opposed to English Language literature. Dickens and Hardy, worthy though they may be, were dreadful bores. Mark Twain, however… Equally, with a decent translation, Alexandre Dumas, particularly the d’Artagnan Romances, is fantastic.
I used to think that the problem was the Victorians’ lack of TV and/or radio to entertain themselves on long winter nights that made their novels so dreary and over fussy. After all, I reasoned, there would have been hours to fill between thrashing the servants or forging an Empire, so long descriptive tracts is the way to go. Then I remembered that the same was true of the eighteenth century, and let’s face it Sir Walter Scott could rattle out a fine old page-turner without breaking a sweat and he was hardly diverted by tuning in to the Light Service every evening.
Before anyone says anything, I am fully aware that in the 1700s, for every Scott, there was a Richardson, who could weigh in with such worthy stodge as Pamela, which I seem to recall came in, even in the revised edition, at around a million words.
I think that by and large my tastes betray my proletarian heritage. I like easily read books, preferably with more adventure than soul searching and more fantasy than social comment. Generally too, though not exclusively, I like something with a bit of pace. Many nineteenth century authors do not fill these criteria and it seems, neither have they been exposed to the power of an editor, unless, perhaps it is in later reprint text butchery, which substitutes excision and abridgment for editing.
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I used to think that the problem was the Victorians’ lack of TV and/or radio to entertain themselves on long winter nights that made their novels so dreary and over fussy. After all, I reasoned, there would have been hours to fill between thrashing the servants or forging an Empire, so long descriptive tracts is the way to go. Then I remembered that the same was true of the eighteenth century, and let’s face it Sir Walter Scott could rattle out a fine old page-turner without breaking a sweat and he was hardly diverted by tuning in to the Light Service every evening.
Before anyone says anything, I am fully aware that in the 1700s, for every Scott, there was a Richardson, who could weigh in with such worthy stodge as Pamela, which I seem to recall came in, even in the revised edition, at around a million words.
I think that by and large my tastes betray my proletarian heritage. I like easily read books, preferably with more adventure than soul searching and more fantasy than social comment. Generally too, though not exclusively, I like something with a bit of pace. Many nineteenth century authors do not fill these criteria and it seems, neither have they been exposed to the power of an editor, unless, perhaps it is in later reprint text butchery, which substitutes excision and abridgment for editing.
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Date: 2008-06-25 02:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 02:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 02:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 03:01 pm (UTC)I tend to read most thing post 1945...
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Date: 2008-06-25 03:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 03:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 03:13 pm (UTC)Someone else has commented today that having had to wade through some of the books in the BBC list when we were at school would have put us off the author, or even reading per se (hence my aversion to Shakespeare). Still, do you remember how willing we were to give G Chaucer a chance, as he was rib-nudgingly earthy? Also, I seem to remember that one of our English teachers asked us one day why Victorian novels were so lengthy. One of us pointed out that entertainment was limited in those days. Your third paragraph sums this up well: one can write a huge book full of ripping stuff rather than overly descriptive drivel. The fact that so few of them did tells me that many of those huge books could as easily have been a fourth the size and much more enjoyable. Who wants to trudge through a book?
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Date: 2008-06-25 03:13 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 03:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 03:18 pm (UTC)I haven't quite recovered from the shock of how dull Dorian Gray was though after enjoying some other Wilde. Most sad.
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Date: 2008-06-25 03:24 pm (UTC)Rider Haggard of course, you are quite correct. King Solomon's Mines, She etc - all ripping stuff. Kipling, I tend to forget is Victorian, I think of him as later, but you are quite right. Wells, hmm. Not so sure and although I love The Importance of Being Ernest, I found Dorian Gray hard going, so I'm not sure what to make of Wilde. Stevenson: the jury is out: Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde was hard work, Treasure Island, less so.
I have never read Black Beauty though for years I had a copy, so I can't comment on Sewell. Maybe I should give her a try?
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Date: 2008-06-25 03:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-06-25 03:44 pm (UTC)Re: Seeing as you raised the television point
Date: 2008-06-25 05:50 pm (UTC)I love this!
All down to personal taste
Date: 2008-06-25 09:20 pm (UTC)I think the long descriptive tracts in a lot of Victorian literature fits in with their attitude to fashion and architecture in general. It has both strong points and weak points, in my opinion. Even the infamous Lord Lytton is actually quite fun to read once you get your head around his sentence structure.
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Date: 2008-06-26 06:47 am (UTC)