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I've been reading a lot, but not finishing a lot -- usually it doesn't bother me too much to have a bunch of things on the go at once, but 26 at a time is... high, even for me. Today I finished a really good edited volume about Charlotte Smith (and finished writing my lit review about her!), and I was so excited to update my reading challenge but it doesn't even count for even one of my prompts! Alas.

The book was super good though. Here are some of the quotes I typed up that might be interesting in a broader context:

"In 1913, Saintsbury believed Smith was ‘something of a person in herself, but less of a figure in history, because she neither innovates nor does old things consummately.’ Even the first extensive study of Smith by Florence Hilbish [in 1941], whilst highlighting many areas of innovation, arrived at the conclusion that she produced ‘little strikingly original’ material … the twentieth century was not yet ready to truly appreciate Charlotte Smith. This is evident in Ernest Bernbaum’s indifferent review of Hilbish’s work, which concluded that ‘much time and care have been devoted to it; whether deservedly, is perhaps questionable.’” (Duckling 216-7)

“To hear Charlotte Smith talk about her writing, you would think she was a drudge or even a hack, ‘compelled,’ as she now famously put it, ‘to live only to write & write only to live’ … Except that she is continually ordering or borrowing books… she seems to have her nose to a grindstone and her eyes shut to all literary value. … one suddenly discovers someone who is reading every principal piece of literature available and commenting sharply on the success or lack thereof of many contemporary productions.” (Curran 175)

“In English she returns again and again to Shakespeare, Milton, Pope, Thomson, Gray, Collins, Goldsmith, Sterne, and, her favourite contemporary poet, William Cowper. Among French writers her taste is highly eclectic, though she returns often to La Rouchefoucauld, Rousseau, and, especially, Voltaire… Her Italian favourites are Petrarch’s sonnets and Mestasio’s operatic arias… She knows no German, but is keenly aware of the distinctive place occupied by Goethe’s Werther in the literature of sensibility. There is one other literature in which she is not only proficient but, for a woman author, surprisingly forthcoming: Latin. She certainly admires Cicero, Horace, and Ovid, but she reserves a special place for Virgil.” (Curran 176)

Very few Smith scholars work actively on both the novels and the poetry, and consequently we have been learning about two separate Smiths, each closely linked to the genre she writes in, neither closely linked to the other. Because the novel during the Romantic period is undergoing an extraordinary amount of change and innovation, as it moves closer to its modern form, editors of the novels (myself included) tend to focus on Smith’s techniques and innovations, her use of tropes and themes, her facility with genres and description. Conversely, because Romantic poetry in the Smithian tradition is so closely tied up with explorations of selfhood and subjectivity, memory and a personalized past, editors of the poetry tend to present it as reflective of a personalized state of mind, of ‘woman’s’ experience, treating its manifold themes and narratives as, finally, reducible to and manifested from Smith’s life. Is it all to do with inherent qualities of genre, or is it more to do with the expectations we as readers bring to different genres? Genre, it seems, carries a greater force in constructing our preconceptions of identity than has been recognized, and Smith is a case in point, a case we can crack by studying closely Smith’s style and techniques across genres.” (Labbe 5)

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I am REALLY enjoying it so far, but a fuller report of the good bits will have to wait until another time. For now, I simply couldn't let it go unrecorded that one of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's granddaughters was named Christabel! Yes, like his very lesbian poem!!

I thought it was bonkers enough that anybody would name their child Christabel Coleridge in the 1840s, but for it to have been one of Coleridge's relatives just makes it even more wild, to me. Alas, she does not appear to have any siblings named Kubla Khan or Ozymandias.

EDIT: omg, for more great names, she was part of a fascinating-sounding ladies' literary society called The Goslings, in which her pen name was CHELSEA CHINA! (Because she was born in Chelsea, presumably, and because ???). These names are fantastic: QUEEN BEE. ALBATROSS. BLUEBELL. FROG.

I'm especially charmed by MAVIS, for Mary Avice Butler, because it's so clearly formed from the sound of her actual name, in exactly the way that nicknames sometimes happen. I'm also charmed by POTATOE.
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Taking this from [personal profile] doctornerdington because it seemed like low-hanging fruit to re-establish a presence here on DW now that I am done travelling for a little while -- my ten favourite female characters, limiting myself to one character per source, in order of how rapidly I was able to think of them:

  • Is is Elinor Dashwood? It must be somebody from Austen, and it's not Emma or Fanny, and surely not Marianne (poor thing), and I think not Elizabeth... is there enough to Jane or to Georgiana for me to claim them as a favourite? Oh! Anne Eliot. I love her the best.
  • Cordelia Naismith, by Lois McMaster Bujold (Ekaterin Vorsoisson is also obviously dear to me but Cordelia saved my life)
  • Oh, obviously, if we're talking precious life-saving literary talismans from one's youth, Hermione Granger
  • Pepper Potts, actually, an under-explored personage of intense interest to me
  • Too much children's literature is springing to mind; Sarah Crewe from A Little Princess, Ella from Ella Enchanted... let's give it to Emily Starr, who encompasses all of them for me.
  • Emily Fox-Seton, by Frances Hodgson Burnett in The Making of a Marchioness (though Hester mesmerizes me more with each passing year) - technically not children's lit!
  • Rosalind, in As You Like It (This is where I started to scroll through my "read" list on Goodreads and remember all the grown-up literature I actually do read)
  • Cecilia, by Frances Burney (Evelina is a better novel than Cecelia I think, but I find Cecilia herself more interesting)
  • Aquilina, in Venice Preserv'd (it was gonna be Belvidera but then I remembered the Nicky-Nacky scene)
  • Lady Bracknell, in The Importance of Being Earnest (it turns out she's actually right most of the time?)
  • Lucy Honeychurch, in A Room with a View
  • Lavinia, in Ursula K. LeGuin's Lavinia and in the Aeneid
  • ... oops, I'm well past 10 now, but what the heck, Hild in Hild and Katherine in Katherine are both magnificently dense characters, and now that I've made this list I don't want to cut people from it.

There. A stream-of-consciousness post which revealed to me that, actually, a lot of the really character-focused stuff I consume is about men. Or perhaps, a lot of the 18thC heroines I adore are all the same single character with different names, so it's hard to become attached to them individually?

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I've once again added a few more of my recently-completed books to my halfhearted bespoke reading challenge... Although I've felt like I've been 'mixing up' my reading a fair bit this year, in terms of books completed it's mostly Dorothy Sayers with a big of PG Wodehouse for colour. But I have no fewer than twelve books in progress (and six more in Libby that I intend to begin soon!) which are all something a bit interesting, with some potential to liven up reading statistics.

In the interest of following the spirit of this "challenge" a little more (rather than just jotting down my completed books every now and then and dispiritedly noting that they apply to almost none of my prompts): any recs for a book whose titles contain the words "Last," "Call," "Nightshade," or "Lounge"?

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I'm not entirely sure if I'm actually intending to follow my self-created reading challenge or not, but I did update that list with the things I've happened to have read so far.

It's interesting how unusual it feels to me to have 'so many' 20thC titles on my "read" list. By that I mean, I've been putting through PG Wodehouse and Dorothy Sayers, which is really not a wide range of 20thC literature. Though it is fascinating, looking at their publication dates, to see that they're within just a few years of each other, and the Jeeves stories are closer to WWI chronologically. It hadn't occurred to me until just this moment to see them as sharing a core structure of "wealthy, dandyish gentleman and his butler live a life of unattached adventure", probably because they do extremely different things with that core structure.

Does this mean that there are more "dandy and his butler" stories from the 1920s? Was this a subgenre?? If so I would LOVE to read the ones that didn't famous!


whisperspace: Wednesday is my Very Long Work Day this term so Reading Wednesday will have to be a Wednesday-independent phenomenon for me, for a while.
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I have been reading The Cambridge History of Eighteenth-Century Political Thought, and I'm currently dragging myself through a painfully dense and jargonistic chapter on religious debates that mean very little to me, and I was startled and alarmed by what seemed to be a colloquial sense of humour suddenly stuck into the middle of the following paragraph:

However close these doctrinal and devotional similarities, the two reli- gious phenomena diverged in precisely those areas most pregnant with polit- ical possibilities. To be sure, Pietists, like Jansenists, frequently appealed to the individual conscience or Gewissen and later evolved into ‘patriots’, but in Pietism’s case neither of these translated into adversarial politics. Unlike eighteenth-century Jansenism, which persisted in arguing Augustinian grace against Unigenitus, Pietism’s quarrel with Lutheran ‘orthodoxy’ was not really doctrinal. While Pietists may have wanted less emphasis on doctrine, they did not call for a different doctrine. Their de-emphasis of reason in favour of the heart gave Pietism the political consistency of pudding. That absence of polemical edge extended even to the domain of ecclesiology where, despite Spener’s inaugural condemnation of caesaropapism and a marked impatience with rigid hierarchicalism, Pietism did not really call for structural reform. Nothing in Pietism corresponds to Richerism or conciliarism.

I share basically so you can all sympathize with me that I am trying to make my way through this writing. Why is that the only sentence in 35 pages that seems like it was written by a human??

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... both turning to the same part of a novel, to reveal simultaneously that you both wrote in the margins "no ethical consumption under capitalism."


Relatedly, I am falling completely in love with Ursula K LeGuin's The Dispossessed!
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Cecilia, by France Burney: This has been my primary reading occupation since I began it mid-February, as sometimes happens when I sink into a long 18thC work: they move so slowly that I need to spend all my time on them to get anywhere. I've been gradually falling in love with Burney as an author who I can't believe isn't more widely read: Cecilia, as a character, is completely unlike Evelina, the protagonist of the other Burney novel I've read (titled Evelina), but Cecilia is equally fascinating and endearing to me.

(Incidentally -- I really like how the convention of naming books after their heroines imbues the book itself with something like personhood: one can talk about 'spending a nice afternoon with Cecilia' and it really does feel like, by picking up such a large book focused on just one person, one is spending time with the narrative person of Cecilia.)

The premise of Cecilia is unusual: Cecilia is an independently wealthy heiress (whose virtue is, naturally, matched only by her beauty) whose only problem on the marriage market is that her husband must take her last name or her wealthy estate will pass to the next person in line for it. The first half of the book takes us through a range of interesting suitors, but actually settles on a clear favourite roughly halfway through, and from there the plot is concerned with the difficulties of getting their marriage sorted out to everyone's satisfaction.

I'd highly recommend this novel to someone with the patience for a long 18thC work -- I think it demonstrates the satisfactions and strengths of this literary tradition really well! Also, I'd love to be able to talk about it with someone; maybe I can write a more spoilery post in the future.

Puttering along: I always have a few books that I'm making my way through a page or two at a time; these are The Cambridge History of Eighteenth-Century Political Thought (up to p 133) and La Nouvelle Heloise, vol 1, which I am reading in French a few sentences at a time (up to p 49).

On the horizon: The downside of having a Good 18thC Novel on the go is that I make it through fewer distinct titles than when I'm reading more voraciously; I have a long backlog of things that I want to get to. For pleasure I'd like to do the next Lord Peter Wimsey or the next Jeeves & Wooster, but I think actually I will try to dive into some books I've hastily checked out on Japan. After spending the last several years agreeing with a friend of mine (who used to teach English in Japan) that we should go visit together some time when there was a deal on plane tickets, I have surprised myself by actually buying some extremely cheap tickets to Osaka, and we will be in Japan in April! So I don't have much time to orient myself to the country before we are there -- I'd like to have more knowledge than a teenage fondness for manga has provided me.

oulfis: A teacup next to a plate of scones with clotted cream and preserves. (Default)
Because life is meaningless without rules and spreadsheets, I've set myself a challenge to fulfill the following 50 prompts with my reading this year! Books can count for as many prompts as they fit.

Current Status: Reading lots of things, finishing very few of them.

Promptsprompts! )

Books Readbooks! )My goal with this challenge is partly to read things that I wouldn't otherwise have picked up, but mostly to push myself to think frequently about reading.

Wish me luck! And give me reading recs filling these prompts (or prompts for next year!) in the comments!!
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I've been reading Tobias Smollett's 1748 book The Adventures of Roderick Random, and was really surprised to find, buried in chapter 51 as yet another mildly amusing mishap as the protagonist Rory fails repeatedly to make his fortune, an explicitly gay Earl whose attempts to seduce Rory are presented as annoying but not disgusting.

a slightly abridged ch 51 under the cut, with the extra-gay bits bolded )

The whole thing is kind of a wild ride! There are two aspects that particularly interest me:

1. Rory and Banter both seem to be much more upset about Earl Strutwell's false claims to wealth and influence than they are about his queerness. Gay sex seems both a known phenomenon and relatively unthreatening. Even when Rory thinks that Strutwell is worried that Rory has gone gay due to exposure to the continent, I get the feeling that Rory gives his anti-gay tirade mostly in order to please his patron, rather than due to sincere feeling. After all, we hear much more of Earl Strutwell's defense of gay sex than we do Rory's rejection of it! And Rory doesn't reject it in his own words, but rather recites a stock satire.

2. In the middle of all this, Rory flies home to his childhood friend Hugh Strap, with whom he shares lodging, finances, life schemes, and often a bed, and feels absolutely no need to reflect on or justify the love that the two of them frequently confess for each other. In retrospect he's able to see something kind of gay about Earl Strutwell's hand-squeezing, but this doesn't make him suspicious of physical or emotional intimacy with men in general.

I don't have any conclusions yet, except that this is way more chill about gay sex than anything I expected to read from 1748!

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