Airmont Classics Paperbacks CL91 Through CL100

 

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Recently Read: The Portrait of a Lady, by Henry James

 

Nearly one 150 years after The Portrait of a Lady was published, it seems superfluous to review it or summarize it. It is, in short, one of the great American novels, with a formidable style and scope with fascinating characters - not the least of which is the protagonist, the contradictory, contrary, bright and willful Isabel Archer, a woman exceedingly intelligent in some ways, stunningly naive in others.

Considering how long ago the novel was published, I'm surprised at the lack of recent criticism and discussion of it readily available; the story is, in many ways, still relevant. The Penguin edition I read contained only one essay (which seemed as much interested in where it was written and James' influences than the work itself). A Norton edition had some recent essays, but none more recent than 34 years ago.

Although the work is addictively readable (even suspenseful, in its slow-moving way) and was James' most mature large work to date, there are aspects I found less than satisfying. James too often employs monologues which leave no room for dialogue (even when the person being talked to would have - and did - interject); he, also, too often tells, from his omniscient viewpoint, instead of showing. Even the lauded Chapter 42, wherein Isabel contemplates by a fire the state of her life, while noteworthy at the time for its sustained and in-depth psychological treatment, shies away from specific examples for generalities, feelings and metaphors. In fact, I find that James shied away from too much in writing the novel. The mid-book skip ahead of three years does startle and build suspense but also seems like an easier way out than describing Isabel's first years of union. Key aspects of her life aren't dealt with at all, to the point of being (as they say in 2025) problematic; is it only a middle-aged male author who would ignore and downplay the main (female) character losing a 6-month-old child (briefly mentioned only twice in the book, and not by Isabel)? Was James too afraid of what he considered vulgar to present important information concerning the physical status of Gilbert and Isabel's relationship, information which would have a great bearing on Isabel's circumstances and actions? Henry Fielding's The History of Tom Jones was published 130 years earlier and it had no such inhibitions.

Even so, The Portrait of a Lady is endlessly fascinating and memorable. I was sorry to see it end. I highly recommend reading the original 1881 text and not the revised and overwritten 1908 "New York Edition". Not only was the original written when the characters and concepts and intentions were fresh in James' mind, the later version frequently obfuscates and muddies while, ironically, attempting to make language clearer. The last line of the novel, in particular, suffers greatly from having been revised. In its original version, Henrietta Stackpole's advice to Casper Goodwood, "...just you wait." is both a ray of hope for Casper (and the reader) that Isabel isn't returning to a life with Gilbert and a pull-the-rug-out, ambiguously abrupt denouement to over 600 pages - similar to David Chase's equally surprising and abrupt - yet somehow satisfying - ending for his similarly longform The Sopranos. The 1908 version of the ending needlessly adds onto and, in effect, ruins the previous compact sleight of hand. Perfection is ruined and belabored.

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Recently Read: Daisy Miller: A Dark Comedy of Manners, by Daniel Mark Fogels

 

Unlike the routine study guide for Henry James' Daisy Miller I was expecting, Daniel Mark Fogels' Daisy Miller: A Dark Comedy of Manners is packed with insights and well-researched observations. I especially appreciated Fogels' thoughts on the novella's point of view(s) and the excerpts from travel guide books of the 19th century "selling" the various locales used in the work. It was interesting to discover that James himself used such guidebooks in his own initial European tours. This is, all in all, a well-rounded guide to Daisy Miller and I'm interested in reading the Twayne guide to The Portrait of a Lady after I've read that novel.

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Recently Read: Daisy Miller, by Henry James

This short and succinct novella works as a dual character study of two American expatriates in 1870s Europe; it observes the proper but intrigued Frederick Winterbourne observing, puzzling over and only half-heartedly attempting to win the attentions of nouveau riche Daisy Miller. Miller, accompanied by her oblivious mother and a rambunctious younger brother, either deliberately or innocently ignores the social graces demanded of both European upper society and the upper class Americans attempting to ingratiate themselves with the natives.

Whether Daisy's fresh, open and free approach to life is natural or calculated (and to what extent is it a reflection of societal differences between new America and old Europe) is the crux of Winterbourne's "problem", and when Miller begins spending much time in public with a lower class but gracious and handsome Italian gentleman, he's no less intrigued.

Although nearly perfect and, then as now, one of James' most popular works with the general public, I was disappointed in reading yet another James tale of a male character who can't or won't make a fighting commitment to a union with his female interest. It's the title character, seen through Winterbourne's eyes, that makes the story memorable. She's a vibrant, truly American spirit still relevant to all ages and sexes of readers nearly a century and a half later.

The Penguin edition, edited by David Lodge and Philip Horne, makes the smart choice of using the original version of the story, as opposed to the inferior late New York Edition text, and includes much background information, analysis, comparisons of the differing texts, relevant letters and more.

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Recently Read: Confidence, by Henry James

Henry James' 1879 Confidence is considered to be the least of his novels. I find all of James entertaining, though, and often frustrating in equal measure. The measure is equal here, in a story of romantic entanglements between a coterie of lackadaisical European travelers.

As always, the fun (and what profundity is present) is all in the sparring, probing conversations and debates, as each character attempts to know the others' intentions, goals and hearts. The attempt to use words to bring other's true thoughts to the surface is a complex and endlessly satisfying game in James. In Confidence, it's used at times almost farcically.

Where Confidence fails is in its predictabilities and unbelievable coincidences. When our protagonist, Bernard, meets the beautiful and mysterious Angela in Tuscany, the event is quickly over. When Barnard's best friend, Gordon, later asks him to come to Germany to give his appraisal of Gordon's girlfriend, the reader intuitively tells him or her self: don't let it be Angela; that's too much of a coincidence. Worse coincidences, more unbelievable, await. The story, which ends in an uncharacteristic manner for James, does at least feature a strong and smart woman, stronger and smarter, in fact, than the layabout, clueless, and rather uninteresting males surrounding her.

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Recently Read: The Europeans, by Henry James

The Europeans is the most entertaining James novel I've read so far in my quest of reading all his novels in chronological order. It's a sort-of reversal of The American; instead of a financially successful American attempting to marry into European aristocracy, The Europeans concerns mid-19th century visitors from across the pond staying with and somewhat preying upon, plain-living New Englanders of various types, with marriage as the ultimate goal.

The Europeans are a broke and devil-may-care bohemian/artist and his older sister, unequally married to a prince attempting to dump her. The machinations of this somewhat dubious couple's attempts to ingratiate themselves into the lives (if not the hearts) of their straight-faced cousins are fascinating, subtle and frequently funny. The short novel is not considered one of James' best works, but it has a sort of tossed off quality that rings truer than some of his more labored over "serious" work. All of the characters ring true to my mind and the work is a slow simmering mixture of comedy, pathos and acute observation of manners.

I read this book 34 years ago, and enjoyed even more reading it recently.

One thought that occurred to me while reading The Europeans is how unworthy the medium of film is in translating good literature to sound and pictures. Film is literally incapable of communicating the depth of details presented in text. Consider, for example, how this passage would be filmed. I'll find out soon, when I watch the Merchant-Ivory adaptation onto film:

The Baroness took her uncle's hand, and stood looking at him with her ugly face and her beautiful smile. "Have I done right to come?" she asked.

"Very right, very right," said Mr. Wentworth, solemnly. He had arranged in his mind a little speech; but now it quite faded away. He felt almost frightened. He had never been looked at in just that way—with just that fixed, intense smile—by any woman; and it perplexed and weighed upon him, now, that the woman who was smiling so and who had instantly given him a vivid sense of her possessing other unprecedented attributes, was his own niece, the child of his own father's daughter. The idea that his niece should be a German Baroness, married "morganatically" to a Prince, had already given him much to think about. Was it right, was it just, was it acceptable? He always slept badly, and the night before he had lain awake much more even than usual, asking himself these questions. The strange word "morganatic" was constantly in his ears; it reminded him of a certain Mrs. Morgan whom he had once known and who had been a bold, unpleasant woman. He had a feeling that it was his duty, so long as the Baroness looked at him, smiling in that way, to meet her glance with his own scrupulously adjusted, consciously frigid organs of vision; but on this occasion he failed to perform his duty to the last. He looked away toward his daughters. "We are very glad to see you," he had said. "Allow me to introduce my daughters - Miss Charlotte Wentworth, Miss Gertrude Wentworth."

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Henry James' "The American"

Recently read: The American, Henry James' 1877 novel of American capitalistic brashness clashing with unyielding Parisian aristocracy.

The novel, James' third (if you count his immature Watch and Ward - he didn't count it) is a transitional novel, more complex and arresting than his previous Roderick Hudson. In The American, James' protagonist is Christopher Newman, a self-made, uncultured American millionaire who travels to Paris to find (i.e. buy, with his freedom and wealth) culture and a wife. He aims for what he perceives as the top: a beautiful widow, Claire de Cintré, of the long-lived and righteously proud Bellegarde family.

Despite a second half which some readers (though not me) find too melodramatic (I thought the novel surprisingly detoured into Dickens-like material), The American is a compelling read to the last ironically sad page. The subtle and often witty verbal sparring is measured and engaging.

James' descriptions, based on his own limited admittance into Parisian high culture, brings the Bellegardes and their hermetic residence to life; I feel as if I've visited there. Certainly souls quite like the Bellegardes must have made an acute impression on James because, with the exception of Claire, they are the most sharply drawn characters in the book.

Truth be told, I found my sympathies  for the characters divided: I could relate to both Newman's and the Bellegarde's uncompromising determinations and positions. James' main intention for the novel was to write about an American wronged by the old aristocracy and ultimately doing the "right thing" in return. This makes for a plot that perhaps sounds more potentially satisfying than the final result.

The novel does suffer somewhat from the sketchiness with which James draws Claire. Little is revealed by her or about her apart from Newman's somewhat superficial observations and interractions, making the love he professes to feel for her less convincing than it might have been, if not almost puzzling. This fault in the novel coincides with Newman's lack of passion and energy in fighting for the hand of Claire when that's what's required for him to meet the goal the novel has established for him. Certainly a man who started with little in life and made an immense fortune manufacturing washtubs wouldn't admit defeat as wimpily as Newman does. It's almost as if James couldn't conceive of, or bring himself to write about, the sort of person who would passionately love and passionately fight for love. James, who never married, frequently disallows his protagonists to marry and the critical reviews of the novel when it was first published are so united in their puzzlement over this aspect of the plot that they almost, understandably and inadvertently, become an indictment against James the person (as opposed to James, the novelist).

The version of The American I read was a Norton Critical Edition, with plentiful footnotes, James' frequently inscrutable forward to the 1907 "New York" edition, excerpts from James' letters at the time of the writing of the novel, reviews written when the novel was first published
and various 20th century reviews. The Norton Edition also contains the "happy ending" version of a play James wrote based on the novel, a cringe-inducing example of an artist throwing what he has to know is slop to a perceived audience of pigs.

In the name of all that's good, if you decide to read the novel, please read the original 1877 version instead of James' 1907 revision. The rewritten version thickly covers the fresh immediacy and clarity of the original text with elaborately needless details and twisting asides which frequently obscure rather than reveal James' original intent.

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Scheduled Reading: The American, by Henry James

Having read James' first two novels, Watch and Ward and Roderick Hudson, I'll be tackling (in truth, the roughhousing will be minimal) James' third novel, The American, as soon as I'm caught up with several of Marvel's Avengers series and The New Yorker.

The novel was originally serialized in The Atlantic Monthly from 1876-1877.

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