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The text reprinted in this volume is based on an examination of the five printed versions of The American (first published in 1877) which appeared in James's lifetime, and it is preceded by his "Preface to the New York Edition" (1907). The textual history of the novel is traced in A Note on the Text; a list of substantive variants and emendations; a facsimile manuscript page showing James's method of revision; and a list of the installments of the novel as they appeared in The Atlantic. "Backgrounds and Sources" includes relevant extracts from correspondence, reviews, and articles by James and others, and from his Notebooks and Hawthorne. "Contemporary Reception" of the novel is illustrated by twenty-one American and English reviews. "Twentieth-Century Criticism" is represented in essays by Leon Edel, Oscar Cargill, Irving Howe, Richard Poirier, Royal A. Gettmann, and James W. Tuttleton. A Selected Bibliography is included for further study.… (more)
User reviews
I wonder what it would be like reading this as an American? Hmmm....
The title refers to an American, Newman, a fabulously wealthy businessman living in Paris and mixing with the French elite in the 1870s. He falls in love with Claire de Cintre, a young widow born of the Bellegarde's, an aristocratic old French family. He courts and becomes engaged to her before her mother and brother intervene to try to stop the marriage to a mere mercantilist, wealthy though he may be.
And one striking thing is how incredibly wealthy he is- he has apparently made so much money that he can live a life of leisure indefinitely.
One complaint is that the book starts with Newman in Paris, and gives very little backstory. It explains that he is of a very calm and pleasant disposition, which is actually quite important to the plot at the end, but it doesn't really explain why he is like that, which would have been more interesting.
Anyway, the book moves slowly, with long bouts of dialogue. James turns a phrase well, and there are some good descriptions of scenery, but generally I think this book deserves to have been dropped from the canon. Lots of great new books get written every year, and though we shouldn't stop reading Steinbeck just yet, I think James can be consigned to a little corner of obscure writers that were once famous.
The American has all the
I did not like the secundary plot, which in a way explores the same motive from a mirrorred perspective of not so very sophisticated Europeans looking for their luck with Americans, but perhaps it was needed to connect some elements of the story. It gives the novel a slight Dickensian "Tale of Two Cities" character.
Upon completion, I felt I would have hoped to have known of this novel when I started reading Henry James, and not necessarily, as most people, through the shorter fiction.
James makes great headway from Roderick Hudson, where he really begins to hone his dialogue; here, in The American, one almost feels the influence of Trollope on the first half of the novel—the society scenes, the scenes of being lost in crowds, the dialogue that is suggestive
This novel sees him much more masterful with his dialogue measured equally with the interiority/figural narratives that place us inside (mostly) Newman’s head as he navigates the Old—but new-to-him—World of tradition, religion, society, and a pride he can’t wholly fathom. The scenes in the Louvre are some of the most breathtaking scenes in James’s work thus far—as I begin to re-read his novels in order, as this mad project of mine—and the countryside of France comes alive, too, in a suffocating, claustrophobic manner that suits the plot and the theme of The American to the letter.
And that ending! What perfection, with the mise-en-scène and the dialogic build-up! And there is a kind of behind-the-curtains duel! And nuns! And backstabbing aplenty… but the latter is James for you, almost across the board. James begins his ambiguity here, in part, and his fascination with a particular classical element that figures heavily in much of his novels and short fiction.
On to The Europeans which I recall feeling was one of his weaker earlier novels (it is, after all, subtitled A Sketch), but perhaps my mind will change after many years away from it, and on the heels of his previous three novels—yes, I count Watch and Ward, though James later disowned it.