Status
Call number
Genres
Collection
Publication
Description
When the Ibbotson sisters, Hester and Margaret, arrive at the village of Deerbrook to stay with their cousin Mr Grey and his wife, speculation is rife that one of them might marry the local apothecary Edward Hope. Although he is immediately attracted to Margaret, Hope is ultimately persuaded to marry the beautiful Hester. The unhappiness of their marriage is compounded when a malicious village gossip accuses Hope of grave-robbing. New to Penguin Classics, this edition of Deerbrookcontains the full text of the original three-volume novel. Valerie Sander's introduction outlines the novel's themes and considers its unique position in nineteenth-century women's literature. This volume also contains a chronology, further reading and detailed notes.… (more)
User reviews
What’s this got to do with Deerbrook, you ask? Well, I mention it because I think the essential idea and theme of this novel is one which is now out of date. The Avatar way of thinking has, I suspect, become general in the 21st century, and had its beginnings in the 1950s. I reckon there are a great many people today who think that escaping to a fantasy world in any way one can is by far the best choice over reality. During the War years, however (and I think for centuries beforehand too, with the possible exception of the 1920s), the Dorothy way of looking at life’s difficulties was the one people aimed to have.
So, let that provide a context to Deerbrook, a novel set in a totally different world from ours today – one that really did exist (more or less) in English villages during the very early years of Victoria’s reign. Certainly fantasies are created here, but not the brightly-coloured kind. Slander, malicious gossip and manipulation alter people’s perception of reality, along with a good dose of superstition. Ignorance, small-mindedness and nursed grudges wreak havoc into the lives of innocent young people who would without sarcasm have been called ‘stout-hearted’ and ‘noble’ in those days. Today in serious literature, or in serious discussion of it, such qualities are rarely discussed without cynicism, or at least without an apologetic tone like the one I’m unfortunately tempted to use now.
Another change from then to now is, of course, the prevalence of religious faith at that time. In Martineau’s little village of Deerbrook, such faith is taken for granted by all, even if it’s blended with superstition by some, and corrupted with blind malice in others. So these two qualities, faith and fortitude, provide the framework of the book, and are so much taken for granted that they need hardly be explained in it.
Martineau was a highly unusual woman, not at all a product of the kind of village she wrote about in this novel. She was a controversial social theorist, essayist and feminist; well-travelled, well-read, and in her time, well-known. In spite of the small-minded domesticity of Deerbrook, these aspects of Martineau shine through. Her exploration of character is deep and reminds me of George Eliot. Both authors are interested in the motives that form character and thereby shape a person’s life; and both mingle story with philosophical commentary seamlessly, story complementing philosophy and vice-versa. Indeed it’s difficult to read Martineau without comparing her to her contemporary authors. I kept doing it while reading the book, even though I felt it was a bit unfair not to take her on her own ground. But there’s no denying that her depth of character is Eliotish; that her pastoral domesticity is Gaskellish (Elizabeth Gaskell was open about Martineau’s influence on her writing); her love tangles are Trollopish (in the authorial sense!) and her satirical comments on less likeable characters are definitely Austenish. There are hints of Hardy here and there too. But do not be deceived – Martineau is in no way a mish-mash of all the above. She is unquestionably her own voice and a strong author. (Besides, Austen was the only author in the list who preceded her, so it’s likely the rest were influenced by her a little as happens among authors).
Martineau’s sociological point of view adds another layer to the story. This is the exploration of an English village. She dissects it with a sociologist’s eye. The village as a whole has its own personality and its own mind, which can take over when popular prejudice holds sway, and cause untold damage. The reader also gets the sense of real lives lived behind closed doors. And relationships, interdependencies and gossip all have an important place; and when these are interfered with, great troubles arise. The village must exist as a whole, or else be destroyed.
Personally, this book resonated with me. I appreciated the depth and exploration of what it means to stand firm in the face of hardship. I liked very much the exploration of character, and in particular of one who has a character flaw which would now be recognised as a form of depression. I liked too the way emotions and attractions between the sexes is not depicted in the modern way of love being inevitable and too strong for any resistance of any kind; but instead an inward source of intense joy and pain that in no way changes the code by which one lives one’s life. Certainly, this novel is dated, in the sense that it represents a society and a way of life that is gone – and with its disappearance a way of thinking, a way of making sense of the world has changed also. It was a real pleasure for me to enter that world and stay there for a while.
The Miss Ibbotsons come to Deerbrook to live with their cousins, the Greys, following their father's death. Hester is beautiful and somewhat given to self-pity and then to self-recrimination equalled in its intensity only by its brevity. Margaret is almost plain beside her sister but is her superior in intellect, understanding, sensitivity, and good humor. The two young women stir up the whole village (which appears to be idyllic), but most especially Mr. Hope, the young doctor and Mr. Enderby, brother-in-law of Mr. Grey's business partner. Both men fall in love with Margaret (the first surprise!), but Edward Hope learns that Hester has fallen in love with him.
The plot turns on the same peculiar early Victorian idea as that which drives Trollope's Can You Forgive Her?. Apparently, a woman must marry her first love or she can no longer be pure and a worthy mate for a self-respecting gentleman. Hope decides that he must marry Hester since she loves him and thus, makes the first great mistake of his life. A bit later the idea comes into play again as another lover breaks his engagement saying that he had told his betrothed of the beginnings of a prior attachment. That was the logical time for her to have told him of her own. He would not then have married her, but he would have always respected as well as loved her.
Meanwhile the Hopes and Margaret suffer betrayal after betrayal and Deerbrook falls prey to a pestilential fever. A villainess, characterized as a fiend, poisons relationships with malice. It is a relief when all comes well in the end. The most interesting character, Maria, does not receive nearly enough attention. She is like Martineau in that she has a disability and has been disappointed in love but makes herself a life as a solitary. Martineau's philosophy is often in Maria's mouth, and her discussions with Margaret are some of the most compelling moments in the book. Martineau lacks Jane Austen's wit and ability to edit, but I always picked up my copy eagerly, and I'm sorry to bid Deerbrook farewell.
Hester and Margaret
When there is a change in the fortunes and village reputations of the sisters and Dr. Hope, in large part due to the villain of the piece (who unfortunately is not really given motivation for her actions), they continue to conduct themselves cheerfully, morally, and courageously, believing that if they do so, their reputations will recover. Martineau’s observations on politics and sociology, and her feminism, are weaved into the actions of the novel. The story took many turns that I was not expecting, and at times I did wonder if it was ever going to work its way to a coherent whole. (It did.)
Unfortunately, though, the second half got a bit long and over the top--it reminded me more of Thomas Hardy. The humor sort of evaporated and things became pretty earnest.
Though I was slightly disappointed, there's still a lot to like about this book, and it seems very under-read--right now there are only 8 ratings on goodreads (8!). It's much, much better than that, especially since you can read it for free on Project Gutenberg. If you like Middlemarch, Persuasion, and Can You Forgive Her?, I think you'll like this, too.
There's one specific plot point that dampened my enjoyment of this novel, but it will be difficult for me to explain without spoiling the book somewhat. So, please, someone else read this so I can discuss it with you!
The novel's main purpose is didactic, and the entertainment value is secondary to this purpose. Also, Margaret may come across as a Mary Sue to modern readers. However, many of the issues raised in the novel are still problems today. What are unsubstantiated rumors or false reports if not “fake news”? And don't we still see people shunned and businesses boycotted because they voted for a candidate that others don't like, even when that candidate won the election? This novel will still speak to today's readers who are willing to tolerate the heavy-handed dialogue.
Martineau sets up a situation where two sisters go for an extended visit to Deerbrook to stay with relatives, the Greys, and end up finding love interests. The love stories are very messy, but present some interesting situations. There is also lots of gossip and meddling from several of the characters which harms the lives of many people in the book. Also present is interaction with the poor and a disease epidemic that explore some of the class divides of the day.
Although some of the longer didactic passages got annoying, I enjoyed this novel and am so glad to have been introduced to it through LT!
This took me to about 40% of the novel and after that I skimmed, so the precise details of the rest of the plot escape me. I found this novel long and, in the main, humourless. On the other hand, I very much enjoyed sections of it. The feud between Mrs Grey and Mrs Rowland was an excellent plot strand which (I think) took on darker and more dramatic proportions in the second half of the book. The insularity and lack of privacy in a small village is made very clear. One thing that puzzled me was the way, after Hester's marriage, everyone suddenly agreed she had character defects. Apart from being jealous of her sister's friendship with the governess Maria, which is surely quite natural - they were all alone in the world otherwise and Hester tried to overcome this - she seemed perfectly amiable to me. Then, after her marriage she is irrational, whiny, depressive, moody - a bit of everything really!
It was, of course, a very Victorian book; Mr Hope faints at one point through pure excess of emotion, all the characters speak matter-of-factly about what God expects of them and God does indeed come through for the mismatched Hester and Hope.
I wouldn't read it again.
Well, I shouldn't have. Martineau comes across as a sub-Eliot, or perhaps less anachronistically, a sub-Austen. I'm not even a book Austen fan and I can tell that this book lacks her wit and insight. Take a look at this sentence: "It is a fact which few but the despisers of their race like to acknowledge, and which those despisers of their race are therefore apt to interpret wrongly, and are enabled to make too much of—that it is perfectly natural,—so natural as to appear necessary,—that when young people first meet, the possibility of their falling in love should occur to all the minds present." C'mon, narrator, whatever insight that obviously-imitative sentence might have had has been buried in a blizzard of completely unnecessary clauses.
Martineau is one of those writers who can stretch a small village tiff out into hundreds of pages for the maximum effect of boringness; I could not have cared less about who did what after slogging through the first 200 pages of it, but it kept on going on and on and not even a plague piqued my interest.