What do you think?
Rate this book
560 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1801
My dear Belinda, if you will not quarrel with the quality, you may have what quantity of praise you please.This, to put it plainly, was a mess. Reading it was akin to following a long, arduous, and convoluted Twitter drama where all is told and nothing is shown, and the emotional payout isn't slow burn but an exasperating "Finally!" to the resolution between a personality-less paragon and a supremely creepy patriarchal ideal. It's infuriating that this edition is the heavily censored 1811 version, which cuts out all mention of interracial marriages, both fulfilled and potential, because I don't see myself deigning to go through this narrative again just for the sake of seeing how far the rot of Edgeworth's father spread. Thus, I may never be able to legitimately judge this, and it's an added shame that I had to discover the particulars of this censorship not from this work's introduction, but Wikipedia of all places. All in all, my reading of this did not occur at all in a satisfactory fashion, so all I can hope is that thirty or forty years hence, I settle down with an edition of the 1801 version with far more footnotes and/or extant material to its name. I don't expect to like the story any better, but I'll at least understand the context far more than I do so at present.
'Why will you delight in making yourself less good than you are, my dear Lady Delacour?' said Belinda, taking her hand.This narrative was little more than a rapid fire compilation of explanations, enunciations, and long winded flashbacks into the justifications of every decision ever made and every character trait ever developed. The beginning could have gone either way in terms of quality, but once the plot started sagging down in a heap of moral self-righteousness, I knew that the narrative was doomed to continue down similar lines until everyone left was a je ne sais quois piece of perfection and everyone not had been packed off to either a foreign country or some other undisclosed obscurity. There were superbly brief gems of insight here and there, and I can well imagine Austen being influenced by this, especially by a certain part for her construction of , but Anglo literature written by women has come a long way since 1801, and a mere decade or so resulted in examples that, to this day, are world's away from 'Belinda' in terms of balancing finely tuned emotional sense, narrative engagement, and truly profound development of theme and character./ As I said in my review of , I don't expect to love or even like all of the old stuff I read for the sake of demographical expansion, but the reception of this work today isn't helped at all by the environment the author worked in, and I do have to say that I am rather curious, per the introduction's discussion, about , which supposedly has the complicated character of Lady Delacour and co. with little, if any, of the morbidly dull redemption story.
'Because I hate to be like other people' said her ladyship, 'who delight in making themselves appear better than they are.[']
Those who persecute, to overturn religion, can scarcely pretend to more philosophy, or more liberality, than those who persecute to support it[.]The day of writing this review has been exceedingly stressful, and unfortunately, I typed this up before I got any closure on various pending issues in my life. As of now, I can only think that it's obscene how much lit by women has been compromised by domineering social forces, and much like the denial that keeps white-washing Heathcliff, artificial constricting of writing allows bigotry to inflate itself in historical representation beyond all bounds of what reality truly consisted of way back when. One probably can't chalk up the horrid antisemitism of a chapter just near the end to anyone other than Edgeworth herself, but the blatant manipulation of the 1801 text still stands and certainly didn't help. In fact, one can still see evidence of the hastily erased racial marriage (unless I missed a cue or two), which goes to show that bigotry couldn't even do its hateful job properly. Ah well. An unusual artifact from more than two centuries ago, and probably controversial enough to merit a more serious evaluation on a broader scale of media than has so far been afforded it.
'But possibly these are only truths for ladies. Doctor X� may be such an ungallant philosopher, as to think some truths are not fit for ladies. He may hold a different language with gentlemen.'
'I should not only be an ungallant but a weak philosopher,' said Dr X�, 'if I thought that truth was not the same for all the world who can understand.[']