pastoral

Oddly enough, I think I prefer the brooding, depressing Thomas Hardy.

I might have enjoyed it if every chapter I wasn’t reminded of how vain and useless women are.

So, it’s the sexism for me.

Plodding, dismal early novel from Hardy - I'm struggling to think of one positive thing about it. I'm reading Far From The Madding Crowd now which is thankfully infinitely better.

This is the first Hardy book I've not read before as I work my way through his novels in chronological order. I guess the reason I'd not read it, although I owned it, before was that I always had a feeling it was a rather lightweight, fluffy sort of book - not at all the kind of thing that I expected of, and liked about his other works. And I have to say that in the reading, nothing disabused me of that notion. It's a physically short novel, but then so are Two on a Tower and The Well Beloved, both of which are still enjoyable reads. But what differed for me about this book was the slightness of the plot - there's, well... nothing much really happens in it. Coming after the plot heavy Desperate Remedies, it's a bit of a surprise, and shows it is not just a sign of Hardy still being an unmatured writer.

Hardy was still writing under contract when he wrote this novel, set in the landscape and village world of his childhood. Yes, it is a happier, lighter toned novel, with none of the capricious will of fate plot devices that colour his later, greater works. But those critical reviews and commentaries that try to make something of the suggested evidence of Hardy themes already fully present, seem to me to overplay their hand. Yes, there is a point where the introduction of the organ into the parish church replaces the traditional quire - and yes, there is a sense that this echoes later themes in Hardy of the clash of modernity and tradition, but it's over in a few pages, with no reflection or comment. Like much of the book, nothing essentially is developed - characters end the books as fleshed out as they start, we never get any sense of character development, it seems each are simply there to follow the steps of the story and add nothing that might confuse the issue.

At the book's heart is the interplay of the romancing of Fanny Day, and her trio of suitors - or so it might seem, but even this is very slight, with less than a handful of pages dedicated to the suits of the contenders, and no sense of the depth of the distress and pain that, for example, Bathesheba Everdene feels in her romantic triangle.

Much of the book is given over to dialogue - conversations between the villagers abound, and many serve little in the way of purpose other than to just be, a presumably valid and faithful rendering of typical village life in 1840s Dorset. But I felt I could take or leave most of this, it didn't engage me or hold my attention. Apart from perhaps a handful of paragraphs at the start and end of the book, there is very little of the famous Hardy pastoral writing either.

Overall, it's a bit of a curate's egg for me this - it does not feel like a Hardy novel, and seems to show little of what is to come from his later works to warrant treating it as a classic. Yet, for many, it is their favourite Hardy, and it is spoken of as a minor masterpiece. I thought that in reading his books in chronological order I would have a sense of the context in which the book was written which might explain it's relative merits (or lack of) - but compared to Desperate Remedies, I found this unsatisfying and unable to hold my attention on for long. I didn't set out expecting every Hardy novel to be a masterpiece - for me this is clear case of a writer in development, but would represent a side track as a reader that I got little from going down.

This is much softer than his other more well known novels.

Reading this book was like seeing childhood photos of a good friend. I recognized Hardy's minute attention to the natural world, the way the seasons move through the countryside, and his ability to capture a person's movements and individuality so that I feel like I could draw his portrait myself. But the general optimism of the story was a pleasant surprise (usually Hardy = big downer). Here, we still have the fallible, three-dimensional characters Hardy is so good at delineating, but they are able to correct their mistakes, the circumstances of their world are not so aligned against them. In short, this is a sunnier Hardy, although there is a melancholy subplot in the country church choir who must make way for the more modern organ. As always, Hardy reminds us that it didn't used to be this way, and that we lost a little something in the change.

No deaths! Quite a simple but charming tale.