The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
And behold....
...my favorite Brontë book!
(though I'll have to reread Villette and Jane Eyre just to be sure)
The first chapter introduces us to a compelling man, Gilbert Markham. He's writing a letter to his brother-in-law about a new stranger, Mrs. Helen Graham, who has moved into the neighborhood with her child. She's a widow, and has caused a stir among the locals with her aloof behavior. Eventually her neighbors draw her out and she and Gilbert clash quite a few times: she, quick to judge him, and he, eager to prove her opinion of him wrong.
As he grows to know her, Gilbert is stimulated by her mind, and grows to admire her quiet intellect and strength. The two begin to spend time together, and, without revealing major plot points, we come to read her diary about her former life before she moved to the neighborhood, a necessity after the shocking things Gilbert hears circulated about her.
Suffice to say, the strength and be beauty of this novel requires me to reveal one spoiler, (view spoiler) Although it's pretty easy to guess, even before you begin your read, I'd caution you to stop here if you don't want that spoiler revealed.
Now enjoy my buffer-gif so you don't see any spoilers if you've decided to stop reading.
Wow, the strength that is in this novel!!
I applaud Anne for being the first to show that a woman can leave her abusive husband and go on to live a happy, full life. Before this, women who left their husbands in novels, no matter how justified or pious, would quickly fall to ruin, sickness, or death. Here is a woman who loves, learns, leaves, and loves again.
There is some popular, "romantic" notion that a bad boy (or the more appropriate reformed rake if we're speaking in regency lingo), if tamed by a pure, loving heart, makes the best lover and the happiest marriage. Especially if that reformed rake claims to love a virginal woman.
Can I ask why this trend became popular? There is a difference, I suppose, in someone with a tortured past and hedonism (center of the party/playboy), but as quoted in this book:
"Everyone knows reformed rakes make the best husbands."
Why? Why would an emotionally unhealthy person, someone used to thinking of themselves and doing whatever they wanted to do, regardless of others, be the ideal partner? Here, of course, we are excluding the tortured hero, we are focusing on the partiers and hedonists without any moral fiber (we all know that partying alone doesn't make anyone a bad person).
When Helen first meets Mr. Huntingdon, he is high spirited and handsome. He's utterly charming, and utterly in pursuit of her, and, though she knows he's not as virtuous as he might be, she makes the decision to trust that he is essentially good, and that she will break him of his partying ways. Her steadfast love, her devotion and heart, can bring him up and save him.
Sadly, that is not the case.
Perhaps this is another point that makes this novel so compelling: Helen isn't dumb. She isn't blind. She doesn't have a compliant disposition. In fact, she's the opposite: sharp and discerning and strong-willed. This novel shows that it can happen to anyone. Even your friend with her feet most firmly planted on the ground can ignore every red flag and fall into a toxic relationship.
In a gradual fall to disillusionment, Helen still struggles to save her husband. She gives him every excuse, every opportunity, and then when love is gone, she still thinks she can save his soul. She gives herself again and again to an ungrateful recipient. Though never physically abusive, her husband is certainly a psychological one.
Most of us have seen a toxic relationship. If not in our own lives, in someone close to us. All of the control, the narcissism, the warning signs, are here, but Helen is too emotionally close to see the red flags, and too stubborn to listen when the people around her point them out.
Helen is only ever good to him, but he claims it must be to serve her own ego or so that she can feel self-righteous and lord her morality over him. Huntingdon is unable to comprehend that someone might act selflessly towards another because he has never done so, and thus he treats her kindness accordingly.
He falls into alcoholism, an issue I've never seen so frankly addressed in a regency novel before this one. (Again, bravo Anne!) He embodies every vice, every vulgar habit that Helen despises.
Her unfailing hope, her seemingly endless strength, her power to stick to her beliefs and personal morality, her unwillingness to abandon her husband to his evils if she thought she could be of service to his soul, is nothing short of incredible.
And then there is poor sweet Gilbert.
Ah, now we come to the heart of that matter. (view spoiler)
This book is challenging and powerful and, I might add, feminist. Feminism is a broad spectrum where there are many different thoughts, sometimes contradicting beliefs, but what in life is perfect? Examine the character of Helen! Test her fiber. I found much to admire.
And with that everyone, I urge you to go read this book!! It's very, very good.
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