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Archive for January, 2021


Haylet Atwell as Margaret Schlegel in HBO Howards End (scripted Kenneth Lonergan)


Anthony Hopkins as Mr Stevens in 1993 Remains of the Day (scripted by Harold Pinter, then revised Merchant-Ivory-Jhabvala, 1993)

For a course at the Oscher LifeLong Learning Institute at George Mason University
Days: Wednesday mornings, 9:40 to 11:05 am,
Jan 27 to Feb 17
4 sessions online, zoom meeting style (location of building: 4210 Roberts Road, Fairfax, Virginia) 22032
Dr Ellen Moody


Peppard Cottage used for Howards End in M-I-J 1993 (here it is not photographed in prettying up light) – the house in the novel is Rooksnest which Forster and his mother lived in for many years


Dyrham Park (South Gloucester) used for Darlington Hall in 1993 Remains of the Day

Description of Course: F406 Winter 2021 Two Novels of Longing Set in an Imperial Age

The class will read as a diptych E.M. Forster’s Howards End (1910) and Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day (1989). Both examine class, race, war, fascism and colonialism; family, sex, and property relationships from the “empire’s center,” England, from a post-colonial POV. The core center of both novels is the human needs of their characters against capitalist, gender- and class-based backgrounds. I suggest people see on their own either the 1992 Merchant-Ivory-Jhabvala film Howards End (w/Thompson & Hopkins) or 2015 HBO serial, Howards End (Kenneth Lonergan w/Atwell & Macfayden); and the 1993 Merchant-Ivory-Jhabvala film The Remains of the Day (also w/Thompson & Hopkins). We can ask how ironic romances can teach us fundamental lessons about how to survive and thrive in today’s worlds.

Required Texts:

E. M. Forster, Howards End, ed Abinger Edition, introd, notes David Lodge. London: Penguin, 2000. ISBN 978-0-14-118231-1
Kazuo Ishiguro, The Remains of the Day. NY: Knopf, 1989; or Vintage International, 1990. ISBN 978-06-7973172-1
There are readily available relatively inexpensive MP3CD sets of the Howards End read by Nadia May (Blackstone) and Remains of the Day by Simon Prebble (Tantor). Both are superb. A more expensive CD audio of Howards End by Colleen Prendergast. All unabridged.
All three movies (films? streaming videos?) are available on Amazon prime (small price for viewing or none at all).

Format: The class will be a mix of informal lecture and group discussion.

Jan 27: Introduction: Forster, his life & other writing, Bloomsbury (kept short), Forster’s Howards End

Feb 3: Howards End and the 2 film adaptations

Feb 10: Transition from Howards End to The Remains of the Day

Feb 17: The Remains of the Day, the one film adaptation, and if time permits Ishiguro’s other novels (esp. A Pale View of the Hills, Never Let Me Go, When We Were Orphans) & 2 films made from Ishiguro’s books beyond what’s cited above, viz., The White Countess (Ishiguro wrote the screenplay) and Never Let Me Go.


Emma Thompson seen from afar as Miss Kenton, walking as much in the corridors of Mr Stevens’ mind as those of Darlington Hall (she also plays Margaret Schlegel in the 1993 Howards End)


Helena Bonham Carter as Helen Schlegel (the younger sister, a Marianne Dashwood type) (1993 Howards End)

Outside reading or watching:

There is an enormous literature on Forster and he himself left a large body of writing. The best biography because the one candid one is Wendy Moffatt’s A Great Unrecorded History: A New Life by E.M. Forster NY: Farrar, Strauss, an Giroux, 2010. Then I recommend for the text and the rich backgrounds and criticism section, The Norton edition of Howards End, ed. Paul B. Armstrong, who brings together remarkable material both on and by Forster, and includes Forster’s “What I Believe” (central to understanding him and his relevance to us today). I also sent as attachments or URLs: Barbara C. Morden, “Howards End and the condition of England,” May 2016, Literature 1900–1950, British Library, Oliver Tearle, “Revisiting Howards End: Notes towards an Analysis of Forster’s Novel, Interesting Literature, n.d.

There are many essays on Ishiguro, his novels, and especially The Remains of the Day (and not a few on the film too), but many seem not to understand him or his book (s) or to be beside the point — perhaps because the post-modern post-colonial perspective and mix of realism, genres and anti-realism (symbolism) gets in the way. I will send along a few readable genuinely explicatory essays by the time we start talking about the book (or books) as I find them. These will include Wroe, Nicholas, “Living Memories: Kazuo Ishiguro,” The Guardian (biography entries), 18 February 2005, online at: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2005/feb/19/fiction.kazuoishiguro …; Lee, Hermione, “Books & the Arts: Quiet Desolation,” The New Republic, 202 (January 1990):36-39; Deborah Guth, “Submerged Narratives in Kazuo Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day,” Modern Language Studies, 35:2 (1999):126-37; Meera Tamaya, Ishiguro’s “Remains of the Day”: The Empire Strikes Back,” Modern Language Studies, 22:2 (Spring 1992):45-56

Recommended for both books:   Jacqueline Banerjee’s Literary SurreyHampshire:  John Owen Smith, 2005; and Elizabeth Bowen’s “The Big House,” in her Collected Impressions. NY: Knopf, 1950.

Wonderful volumes of close readings of the novels: Claude J Summers, E.M. Forster. NY: Ungar,1983; Barry Lewis, Kazuo Ishiguro. NY: Manchester UP, 2000.


Hugh Grant as Lord Darlington’s nephew, young Mr Cardinal confronting Mr Stevens (1993 Remains of the Day)


Samuel West as Leonard Bast, wandering in a vision he has of a park he walks in (1993 Howards End)

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The Great Eastern Railway under Construction (Parrott, 1857)


Clifton, View of a Garden near Boston (Arthur Goodwin, 1866)

Friends and readers,

The reader who knows something of Trollope and his books might be surprised to see yoked together the phenomenally popular and still consistently pleasurable Barchester Towers (never out of print, many editions, and a brilliant film adaptation still entertaining and worth thinking about); and the nowadays scarcely paid attention to, and when discussed condescended to, as flawed, with unreadable sentimental parts, Three Clerks: today there is but one good, with introduction and notes, affordable and accessible edition, the Oxford classics paperback edited by Graham Handley. Their themes and approach are highly disparate. Barchester Towers is mythic, taking us into an idyllic (if fractured) realm, politics among church people its content, with love triangles deftly woven in; The Three Clerks is minutely realistic in its story, the intersection of commerce, with a drive to expose the real sordid story of a young ambitious Englishman who embezzled his ward’s fortune.


Illustration for an ebook of Barchester Towers: a cathedral of course


Dover edition of The Three Clerks — a print of a city building in the 19th century

But one was produced after the other: Barchester Towers, Trollope’s seventh (written 1852-53); and The Three Clerks, the Eighth (written 1757). Both represent a beginning novelist, trying to find his way: Trollope had tried the Anglo-Irish type book (Macdermots, Kellys), the political historical novel (La Vendee), and the idyllic-political Barchester twin books (The Warden is arguably a novella version of Barchester Towers). So now he would turn to the modern real world of commerce, first The Three Clerks, and his very next The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson: By One of the Firm (written 1857-61). He is trying to find which genre he excels in and discover what he wants to say by developing his means of saying it.

They are part of Trollope’s early years of self-discovery as a novelist, of his early practice of his art. Dr Thorne (another Barchester Book) came ninth (written 1757-58), and The Bertrams (started the day after Trollope finished Dr Thorne), the one novel he delves fundamentalist religious beliefs, and, as I’ve argued elsewhere made new uses of epistolary subjectivity, i.e., innovative novelist techniques. Dreams of the possession or loss of property, land, and sheer money are woven into the fabric of Dr Thorne and The Bertrams and major characters judge their success in the world by looking at how much of these he has garnered or squandered or stood by and watched as someone else did.

Their closeness is also personal or for me, i.e., I just read the books, more or less in tandem, with two groups of people. Barchester Towers in the bi-monthly London Trollope Society zoom meetings, framed by stimulating talks by Professor John Bowen, who edited the latest edition. The Three Clerks with a group of friends on my listserv, Trollope and His Contemporaries @ groups.io.


Eleanor (Janet Maw) and Mr Harding (Donald Pleasance) in Barchester Chronicles (1983, BBC, scripted Alan Plater)

Since I’ve written elsewhere (more than once) about Barchester Towers itself: on this blog, as an extraordinary place & book where there are no police, and on my website, as records of a reading and daily discussion by people on a listserv; the serial adaptation Barchester Chronicles (“Shoverdosing”), and of a talk by John Letts, The Cloisters of Barsetshire, I will confine my remarks here to conveying what I could catch (from scratchy inadequate notes) of Prof John Bowen’s second talk at the end of the reading and discussion:

Trollope is very good at setting up situations where a character must decide something now; he or she feeling pressure of time [in the Three Clerks, it would be Alaric’s delaying selling a group of shares about which he has had insider information so bought them very cheaply and is hoping to sell them at the highest point before they drop down to nothing], also at pressure of space, either bodily or they must move soon. At dramatic scenes. Trollope knows how to compress a narrative and thus raise dramatic temperature. Within Barchester, Ullathorne functions as a paradise. Prof Bowen compared the Ullathorne sports to Midsummer Night’s Dream, with couples twisting and turning as they exchange partners [this is truly common in Renaissance comic theater and pastorals]. Trollope loves to have elements in threes: three suitors for Eleanor, three phases of Ullathorne sports [a parallel:  the three clerks have three sweethearts].

Prof Bowen reminded us of two terms from Aristotle: peripeteia & anagnoresis: the sudden change of fate and the internal recognition. We have lots of this in BT: at its close, who will become the new Dean? Eleanor has the moment of recognition when she sees she loves Arabin, Madeline helps these along [Dominic Edwards suggested in a previous week that Madeline is a surrogate for Trollope himself]. Prof Bowen thought Trollope rarely finds a character unredeemable [one exception is Undy Scott in The Three Clerks]. [I think of Austen’s P&P:  Elizabeth, I never knew myself until now; in Emma, Emma, waking up to her love for Mr Knightley when Harriet tells Emma that Mr Knightley loves Harriet.]

BT a sexy book, lots of sex suggested and some very unconventional. Apparently Bertie takes a group of young men at one point at Ullathorne off-stage (Bertie is gay and no virgin). Madeline plays Slope as someone would a cockaloft (medieval toy used by Trollope punningly). Prof Bowen felt that Arabin is “a stick” (but someone in my smaller group found the character very sexy). Trollope very good at using silences, at the pain of silence [I remember Austen: “Elinor could only smile” in Sense and Sensibility]. In Trollope’s books and here we have strong violent emotions — as well as much humor. Prof Bowen thought that Trollope may have avoided such humor later [the way he toned down graphic violence and sex and despair from his first book, The Macdermots] because a reviewer had complained; Trollope worried about being vulgar. Prof Bowen regretted the loss of this humor. [A number of people objected to that, including me — I felt that humor is not something one puts on, performs but that Trollope’s deepest impulses are at work when he writes; so, when Trollope’s book is sombre, his characters depressed anxious that’s deeply him too. Others felt Trollope’s later books more subtle, and this is a popular book because its humor and presentations are so broad.]

Lastly, Prof Bowen suggested minor characters in Trollope alive with feeling and make impression for time they are on stage. [He did not instance but I’ll say Plomacy, the butler.] He instanced the Quiverfuls and quoted Henry James who wrote he could believe in the number of children and in the name but not both at the same time. The two Quiverfuls swapping letters. [There are such letters in Dr Thorne – between the treacherous De Courcy sister and the foolishly earnest one who buys into the same values.]

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John Everett Millais, The Violet’s Message (1854) — this could be a portrait of the sentimentally conceived Katy Woodward

Perhaps for a book presumably worked hard on after Barchester Towers, The Three Clerks is unsurprisingly very different from Barchester Towers.  It is realistic in ways that Barchester Towers is not: when Sir Gregory Hardlines, then Mr Manylodes, not to omit Mr Neverbend all in effect interview and interact variously with their clerk Alaric Tudor (who is in a way to rise above them all), the texture of the language, the specificity, how the interviewee and interviewer play upon one another shows how general and broad is the depiction of an interview of Mr Harding by Obadiah Slope. Moral sleaziness of a kind not seen in Barchester Towers is part of the daily life of Trollope’s offices as well as parliament in this novel. The most interesting parts of The Three Clerks are about public life in offices, how one actually gets hired and then promoted (not based on judging merit from a disinterested standpoint); how members of Parliament and locally elected officials when dealing with the public’s interest (say building a bridge) basically consider their career, their place in their parties, their own interest first and their views of the bridge comes from the caste they belong to: several find it natural to invest using the knowledge they know about the company in stocks and share. What emerges from one of her hero, Alaric’s ambition and Undy Scott,  a predatory friend’s leeching off and temptation of Alaric is embezzlement, an arrest and a trial.

Alaric Tudor is a very different kind of hobbledyhoy than we find in the early Barchester and Palliser books — no Johnny Eames, no Phineas Finn. Charley Tudor (whom mamu critics begin with and dwell on, as a surrogate for Trollope) spends his time outside the office when not visiting the three ever-so-chaste utterly respectable Woodward sisters at Surbiton Cottage: Gertrude, the eldest, hardest, most ambitious, Linda, the second, more romantic, and Katy at first a child and then the enthralled sweetheart of Charley — at bars where he apparently gambles, drinks and involved himself sexually with girls available for sex outside marriage. The material is presented coyly, through euphemism, and to a 21st century woman reader, very distastefully as the young women in these bars are as despised by the author as they are exploited by this (supposedly helpless) Charley. Charley is Alaric’s cousin; if corruptible in his pre-marital pleasures, he is not in office life, nor will he marry for money. He is a novelist on the side — writing godawful fiction, some of which is included (alas) in the novel, and is meant to parallel and perhaps parody Charley and Katy’s sentimental relationship. When they are parted by the guardian careful mother, Mrs Woodward, Katy goes into a decline.

The third clerk, Harry Norman, seems the oldest of the three, and throughout the story a man of integrity who introduced his friend, Alaric, and then Alaric’s cousin to the Woodwards. He is no prig, likes to enjoy himself, sincerely falls in love with Gertrude, and she seems to at first with him; alas, in the world of maneuvering, performance and competition for attention, respect, patronage and thus promotion, he cannot come near the socially cunning Alaric. One of Trollope’s explicit purposes in this book is to argue against hiring people to do middle class jobs through examinations — it’s not just what is tested has nothing to do with the qualities of character and knowledge a man might have to have to do a job in gov’t offices (like Weights and Measures or Internal Navigation where our three clerks work), but for Trollope they wrongly promote to managerial positions men without fortunes of their own (which Norman has — and inherits more as the novel concludes), so they are tempted to corruption (that is the paradigm underlying the Alaric story, or what it begins with as an inference). They are also not true gentleman. Trollope’s argument is personally based: he would have failed such exams and yet he was (he felt and rightly) an excellent postal clerk, manager and later managerial official.

Alaric wins Gertrude from Norman (her uncle, Captain Cuttwater, is one of the many who admire Alaric and offers a dowry if Alaric marries her), and eventually attempts to live with her a life beyond their means (Gertrude is very alive to status).  Investing too incautiously in stocks based on insider knowledge, Alaric finds himself “borrowing” (i.e., stealing) money from his ward’s fortune. Throughout, Alaric is behaving wrongly — for example, in an fascinating middle section of the book, he visits a Cornish mine to scrutinize it for its safety as well as productivity and recommends the gov’t give it a contract; he buys the stock when it’s low; it goes high, and he sells out; not long afterwards it is shown to have been unsound when its innards collapse and there is a flood (many men would have died). He did nothing illegal of course, merely unethical, sordid, and doing the opposite of the job intended: to serve the public and the people working in the mine.

One “side” or portion of the novel’s intertwined narrative is made up of love stories, some romantic, some mercenary. Norman turns out to be one of Trollope’s characters who once he loves cannot divest himself of this love, even if he can seem to control himself and marries Linda; he is believable stubborn man who later in the book rescues Alaric, but will never be his friend, never forgive him. The depiction of Mrs Woodward is believable; and if Trollope sneers at, distrusts Charley’s working class bar maid lover, Norah Geraghy, and her female mentor in the form of a mistress tavern keeper (who wears a helmet-like hat), Mrs Davis protects Norah in a parallel way to Mrs Woodward’s behavior towards her daughters. Scott’s female relatives bring in the venal women who live for ostentation and marry for money or (unknowingly in the case of Alaric’s remarkably stupid ward) buy a worthless husband. Some of this is effective, paradoxically, the chapter of Katy’s first ball, of Gertrude’s first experience of ostentatious competitive flower shows, but there is (as Trollope himself says) a vein of sexual emotion in these women, ideas they enact that he hasn’t the socially acceptable tropes to show in the way he would, so Trollope knowingly resorts to gush and mawkishness. The book is indeed very uneven. At moments The Three Clerks seems a piece of juvenilia in a way none of his previous books do (that includes the relative failure of the political historical novel, La Vendee)

By contrast, it is difficult to overstate the brilliance of Trollope’s scenes and characters making up a subtle portrait of real working life for men in offices, and the connection of these to industry and trade in mid-Victorian London and its environs (as far as Cornwall).

Trollope has Dickens in mind: he means to show how inadequate and naive (and unfair to the workers in these offices), is Dickens’s portrait of bureaucratic life — Trollope’s narrator cites the Circumlocution Office. A rare unredeemable and at the same time believable villain, Undecimus (Undy) Scott is the man who seduces Alaric gradually and turns on Alaric as a blackmailer; Trollope apparently (he just about tells us so in his role as narrator) conceived of Scott as a truer portrait of social evil than Bill Sykes: Bill never had a chance to have money or education; the evil Bill does is limited to the people he comes in direct contact with, he is easy to spot and the harm he does relatively easy to bring an end to. Undy Scott shows himself able to be a delightful social (dinner anyone?) companion to many people, a facilitator of deals, handsome, able, but as Alaric is far more a criminal than Mark Robartes in Framley Parsonage (also tempted into amoral behavior, especially like Charley, debt), so Sowerby (the man who tempts Robartes) does nothing as insinuatingly and widely corrosive as Undy is capable of. My conclusion is Dickens taught Trollope more than Trollope is willing to admit.

This is the novel that introduces Mr Chaffanbrass, the relentless effective lawyer who can badger a witness out of truth, and also (as he does here) expose the reality of what seems merely a plausible friendly relationship (as Undy would like the court to believe) to have been a quietly methodological pattern of tempt, corrupt, use and drop in Undy’s relationship with Tudor. The trial scenes in which Alaric is shown to have stolen his ward’s money under the influence of Scott are as vitally alive and convincing as any of the later trial scenes where Chaffanbrass is our master-lawyer. We don’t see much more of Chaffanbrass than is necessary for the court scenes, but the portrait is suggestive and he stands ready off-stage to come on again in later books.

The book touches upon a larger theme of emigration. When Alaric is found guilty, and serves his (rather mild) sentence, he finds no one will give him a middle class job in England, and he and Gertrude emigrate to Australia. The narrative space is taken over by Gertrude’s letters which show her to have taken the leading position in the marriage, to be far more sensible and competent than Alaric ever thought (or was himself).

The uncle Cuttwater brings in the world of the navy from which he retired — another place where we glimpse how promotions and sinecures work. I have thought a good subtitle for this book would be The Way We Work Now, and it anticipates the satire of The Way We Live Now.

I have a serious critique of its intended inferences. It seems to me obvious that Trollope’s preference for patronage over meritocracy is unjust, unacceptable, but his justification and sympathy for Alaric may gain adherence. It seems to me that Trollope buys far more into Alaric’s ambition and is too sympathetic towards his materialism. It’s only when Alaric starts to use his ward’s fortune and thus breaks a law that Trollope draws the fault-line and calls him a crook. All his other machinations, which do include a betrayal of Norman’s trust (in the office too), a complete indifference to the business and industries he is supposed to be supervising and judging the merits of. Trollope tells us several times that Alaric is very competent at his job when he choses to work at it, and he can and does often work very hard because he wants me to feel for Alaric. There is no cross-examination of Alaric or Undy in the trial to show that Alaric was a free agent, and if seduced by Undy, glad to be so. Alaric is told at one point that his stocks may go down right now (they are “ticklish”) and to sell out when he can, make what he can. He could then have replaced some of what he took from his ward. But no he holds out to the end, unable to resist the desire to be very rich by manipulating someone else’s money (as he was earlier with other people’s lives & businesses). This is a novel whose details of business and politics you do have to pay attention to, no euphemisms when it comes to the commercial and political worlds as in some of the Barchester and Palliser novels.

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Watercolor by Constable of a cottage in southeastern England (1830s)


St Pancras at Night, English, 19th century

There is indeed humor in The Three Clerks, but it is not of the high-spirited and compassionate kind that we find in Barchester Towers. The narrator becomes every bit as sardonic as we find him in The Way We Live Now or by indirection and irony Trollope’s very late Swiftian (Orwellian) Fixed Period. That’s not because Trollope was trying to please his reviewers or readership. He was exploring transgressive material that most of his readers probably preferred to turn away from as he had in The Macdermots of Ballycloran, but rather and his and their own local British terrain. Whether the difference of approach comes from the different institutions of society the two novels deal with and the places they are set (the church in a countryside area versus secular government in city and industrial worlds) I leave it to my reader to think about.

NB: Since The Three Clerks is become so little known, I’ve included summaries and commentaries on critical essays in the comments to the blog.

Ellen

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