Status
Available
Call number
Publication
Oxford Paperbacks (2000), Edition: New edition of Revised edition, 592 pages
Description
With neither friends nor family, Lucy Snowe sets sail from England to find employment in a girls boarding school in the small town of Villette. There she struggles to retain her self-possession in the face of unruly pupils, an initially suspicious headmaster, and her own complex feelings, first for the school s English doctor and then for the dictatorial professor, Paul Emmanuel. Charlotte Bront s last and most autobiographical novel is a powerfully moving study of isolation and the pain of unrequited love, narrated by a heroine determined to preserve an independent spirit in the face of adverse circumstances.
User reviews
LibraryThing member ChocolateMuse
Reading Villette always leaves me making comparisons with Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte's other masterpiece. Both have similar heroines - plain, small, insignificant on the outside, and underneath, having what C Bronte herself would call 'a passionate nature'. But it's the differences between the two
Ultimately, I think, Jane Eyre is a book of the heart, while Villette is more a book of the mind; and the reason for that lies at least partially in its heroines. Both Jane Eyre and Lucy Snowe are observers of life more than participants - but Jane is an observer who feels; Lucy is an observer who thinks. Jane fights against her love out of moral strength and the courage of a firm faith. Lucy fights against her (first) love out of severity and sense - such persons as Lucy Snowe should not allow themselves to love the genial and handsome of this world, it is not fitting. Jane responds to kindness with an open heart, and responds to cruelty with a weak submission occasionally overcome by bouts of passion. Lucy responds to kindness and cruelty alike with caution and self-repression. Jane's nature is piquant and elusive, which fits her name, Eyre. Lucy's is cold and austere, like her name, Snowe.
The difference also lies in the heroes. Jane's Mr Rochester is like the music of Rachmaninov: extravagantly romantic, tragic and darkly passionate. He is the Rhett Butler type of hero. Lucy's (second) love is more like Prokofiev at his most irreverent: comical, with flashes of dissonance, and a beauty only the elect can see.
I've read Villette many times now, and get something different from it every time. It's a complex, but not a difficult book. It's full of the Bronte-esque trademarks - passion, repression, the inner world of the introvert. Villette is set mainly in the streets and school of France - monastic stone walls and dark cobblestoned streets replace the moors and wild fields of other Bronte works. But the passionate wildness is still there, contrasted with confinement and repression - you wouldn't have a Bronte novel without them! I keep returning to this book to read it again, but somehow it's more out of enduring curiosity than out of the love that brings me back to Jane Eyre.
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that fascinate me.Ultimately, I think, Jane Eyre is a book of the heart, while Villette is more a book of the mind; and the reason for that lies at least partially in its heroines. Both Jane Eyre and Lucy Snowe are observers of life more than participants - but Jane is an observer who feels; Lucy is an observer who thinks. Jane fights against her love out of moral strength and the courage of a firm faith. Lucy fights against her (first) love out of severity and sense - such persons as Lucy Snowe should not allow themselves to love the genial and handsome of this world, it is not fitting. Jane responds to kindness with an open heart, and responds to cruelty with a weak submission occasionally overcome by bouts of passion. Lucy responds to kindness and cruelty alike with caution and self-repression. Jane's nature is piquant and elusive, which fits her name, Eyre. Lucy's is cold and austere, like her name, Snowe.
The difference also lies in the heroes. Jane's Mr Rochester is like the music of Rachmaninov: extravagantly romantic, tragic and darkly passionate. He is the Rhett Butler type of hero. Lucy's (second) love is more like Prokofiev at his most irreverent: comical, with flashes of dissonance, and a beauty only the elect can see.
I've read Villette many times now, and get something different from it every time. It's a complex, but not a difficult book. It's full of the Bronte-esque trademarks - passion, repression, the inner world of the introvert. Villette is set mainly in the streets and school of France - monastic stone walls and dark cobblestoned streets replace the moors and wild fields of other Bronte works. But the passionate wildness is still there, contrasted with confinement and repression - you wouldn't have a Bronte novel without them! I keep returning to this book to read it again, but somehow it's more out of enduring curiosity than out of the love that brings me back to Jane Eyre.
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LibraryThing member atimco
I picked up Villette after my recent reread of Jane Eyre; surely Charlotte Brontë's genius, so sure and strong in her famous Gothic classic, would not fail in this novel. It did not, but it is of a different kind. I am not disappointed exactly, but I am left a bit thoughtful about the merit of the
Villette is well known for being an autobiographical novel. Many of its events are drawn from Brontë's experiences when she lived in Brussels at the pensionnat of M. and Mme. Héger. Knowing this gave me additional interest; it always fascinates me to see how writers take the stuff of their lives and weave it into art.
This story is narrated by Lucy Snowe, a young woman who leaves England after a unspecified family disaster of some kind. She finds a position at a pensionnat, a French school for young ladies, where she struggles to learn French and understand the culture around her. She achieves this by studying the girls at her school, her fellow teachers, and the owner, Madame Beck.
Lucy Snowe is an interesting character. I found her less easy to like than Jane Eyre; she is cold and sensible and easily put upon. Though she is very observant of those around her and holds firmly to her moral convictions, she is passive in many ways and cannot perform if she is put on the spot. At one point in the story she muses on the vastly different ways her friends view her; some see her as shy and self effacing, others as passionate, and still others as crusty and harsh. She certainly has a wryness to her. By the end of the novel I was her friend, but not her passionate ally.
We are constantly reminded what a "little man" is M. Paul, one of Lucy's fellow teachers. Brontë's portrayal of his character is fascinating. He is a terrible autocrat who loses his temper over the smallest things, but when he truly is sinned against, he is all patience and compassion. In some ways the relationship between M. Paul and Lucy reminded me of Jo March and Professor Bhaer in Alcott's Little Women, though with a distinctly darker cast.
The other characters are excellent: Ginevra Fanshawe in particular is one of my favorites, not because I found her likeable but because Brontë apparently finds her fascinating, and delineates her nature so well that I felt I knew her too. I appreciate Brontë's ability to get down to the core of her characters, and have them interact believably with one another.
The "mystery" of the story, the stock Gothic ghost running around the pensionnat at night, is certainly not the leading feature. I will say that Brontë certainly misled me; I thought it was someone else entirely! I would not have credited the perpetrator with that kind of ingenuity. But really it is only a sideshow to the more important things happening within Lucy.
Brontë's dislike of Roman Catholicism is a major theme of the story. I found it incisive, perceptive, and merciless — though she acknowledges some of its better qualities and creates some worthy characters who are Catholic. But Lucy sees too clearly to allow herself to be converted; she remains a Protestant and this, perhaps, is the ultimate reason a union with the Catholic M. Paul is never realized. It is projected and planned, but fate intervenes... Brontë's famously ambiguous ending is not impossible to unravel. Lucy's earlier statement, that some lives are meant to be happy while others are fated to sorrow, seems to come true. She feels herself fated to be excluded from the joyful tent of those blessed ones, as when she watches them from afar during a fête in the city.
Despite the generally sad, heavy feel of the book, there were moments of humor when Brontë describes the ridiculousness of M. Paul or the girls in the school. Lucy's wry observations of the people around her hint at a sense of humor buried under the narrow and unhappy circumstances of her life.
Mary Anne Evans (George Eliot) preferred this book to Jane Eyre, and I can understand why she would with her interest in people and relationships rather than Gothic atmosphere. Indeed, Villette reminded me a great deal of Middlemarch at times. Dr. John Bretton is very similar to Tertius Lydgate, though he does not make Lydgate's mistake. Lucy is not quite a Dorothea, though they share a kind of ascetism. Villette was published in 1853 and Middlemarch came almost twenty years later, published in serial form in 1871–72.
Brontë uses a lot of French in the dialogue, and it was slightly frustrating to have to flip to the back of the book and check the endnotes every time someone uttered something in French. I wish my edition (Oxford World's Classics) had footnotes instead of endnotes. But it would have been far worse to have no notes at all. I'm just not used to reading interruptedly like that.
I am still thinking about this novel. In some ways it felt a bit of a chore to get through; not much happens in its 500 pages, and it did not grip me as Jane Eyre did. But I think it gives us a clearer picture of Brontë herself, and I found it worth reading for its character sketches alone. But I did not love it.
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book. This review will contain some spoilers.Villette is well known for being an autobiographical novel. Many of its events are drawn from Brontë's experiences when she lived in Brussels at the pensionnat of M. and Mme. Héger. Knowing this gave me additional interest; it always fascinates me to see how writers take the stuff of their lives and weave it into art.
This story is narrated by Lucy Snowe, a young woman who leaves England after a unspecified family disaster of some kind. She finds a position at a pensionnat, a French school for young ladies, where she struggles to learn French and understand the culture around her. She achieves this by studying the girls at her school, her fellow teachers, and the owner, Madame Beck.
Lucy Snowe is an interesting character. I found her less easy to like than Jane Eyre; she is cold and sensible and easily put upon. Though she is very observant of those around her and holds firmly to her moral convictions, she is passive in many ways and cannot perform if she is put on the spot. At one point in the story she muses on the vastly different ways her friends view her; some see her as shy and self effacing, others as passionate, and still others as crusty and harsh. She certainly has a wryness to her. By the end of the novel I was her friend, but not her passionate ally.
We are constantly reminded what a "little man" is M. Paul, one of Lucy's fellow teachers. Brontë's portrayal of his character is fascinating. He is a terrible autocrat who loses his temper over the smallest things, but when he truly is sinned against, he is all patience and compassion. In some ways the relationship between M. Paul and Lucy reminded me of Jo March and Professor Bhaer in Alcott's Little Women, though with a distinctly darker cast.
The other characters are excellent: Ginevra Fanshawe in particular is one of my favorites, not because I found her likeable but because Brontë apparently finds her fascinating, and delineates her nature so well that I felt I knew her too. I appreciate Brontë's ability to get down to the core of her characters, and have them interact believably with one another.
The "mystery" of the story, the stock Gothic ghost running around the pensionnat at night, is certainly not the leading feature. I will say that Brontë certainly misled me; I thought it was someone else entirely! I would not have credited the perpetrator with that kind of ingenuity. But really it is only a sideshow to the more important things happening within Lucy.
Brontë's dislike of Roman Catholicism is a major theme of the story. I found it incisive, perceptive, and merciless — though she acknowledges some of its better qualities and creates some worthy characters who are Catholic. But Lucy sees too clearly to allow herself to be converted; she remains a Protestant and this, perhaps, is the ultimate reason a union with the Catholic M. Paul is never realized. It is projected and planned, but fate intervenes... Brontë's famously ambiguous ending is not impossible to unravel. Lucy's earlier statement, that some lives are meant to be happy while others are fated to sorrow, seems to come true. She feels herself fated to be excluded from the joyful tent of those blessed ones, as when she watches them from afar during a fête in the city.
Despite the generally sad, heavy feel of the book, there were moments of humor when Brontë describes the ridiculousness of M. Paul or the girls in the school. Lucy's wry observations of the people around her hint at a sense of humor buried under the narrow and unhappy circumstances of her life.
Mary Anne Evans (George Eliot) preferred this book to Jane Eyre, and I can understand why she would with her interest in people and relationships rather than Gothic atmosphere. Indeed, Villette reminded me a great deal of Middlemarch at times. Dr. John Bretton is very similar to Tertius Lydgate, though he does not make Lydgate's mistake. Lucy is not quite a Dorothea, though they share a kind of ascetism. Villette was published in 1853 and Middlemarch came almost twenty years later, published in serial form in 1871–72.
Brontë uses a lot of French in the dialogue, and it was slightly frustrating to have to flip to the back of the book and check the endnotes every time someone uttered something in French. I wish my edition (Oxford World's Classics) had footnotes instead of endnotes. But it would have been far worse to have no notes at all. I'm just not used to reading interruptedly like that.
I am still thinking about this novel. In some ways it felt a bit of a chore to get through; not much happens in its 500 pages, and it did not grip me as Jane Eyre did. But I think it gives us a clearer picture of Brontë herself, and I found it worth reading for its character sketches alone. But I did not love it.
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LibraryThing member cbl_tn
I like Jane Eyre. I've read it at least twice, plus I've watched many of the film adaptations of the novel. However, after reading Villette, I could easily be persuaded that it, rather than Jane Eyre, is Charlotte Brontë's masterpiece. In Lucy Snowe, Brontë wrestles with the choices available to
Some lives are thus blessed: it is God's will: it is the attesting trace and lingering evidence of Eden. Other lives run from the first another course. Other travellers encounter weather fitful and gusty, wild and variable--breast adverse winds, are belated and overtaken by the early closing winter night. Neither can this happen without the sanction of God, and I know that, amidst His boundless works, is somewhere stored the secret of this last fate's justice: I know that His treasures contain the proof as the promise of its mercy.
I'm glad I didn't first read this book when I was younger. I wouldn't have been prepared for it. I wouldn't have cared much for the surface story, and I might have missed much of its depth. Now, it's the right book at the right time in my life. Highly recommended.
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a single woman entirely without family to provide financial support and affection. This is not a story of the resilience of the human spirit, or of triumph over adversity; it's a story of endurance through spiritual and emotional suffering. Many of the details are based on incidents from Charlotte Brontë's life. I think she, like Lucy Snowe, viewed herself among life's unblessed:Some lives are thus blessed: it is God's will: it is the attesting trace and lingering evidence of Eden. Other lives run from the first another course. Other travellers encounter weather fitful and gusty, wild and variable--breast adverse winds, are belated and overtaken by the early closing winter night. Neither can this happen without the sanction of God, and I know that, amidst His boundless works, is somewhere stored the secret of this last fate's justice: I know that His treasures contain the proof as the promise of its mercy.
I'm glad I didn't first read this book when I was younger. I wouldn't have been prepared for it. I wouldn't have cared much for the surface story, and I might have missed much of its depth. Now, it's the right book at the right time in my life. Highly recommended.
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LibraryThing member Nickelini
30. Villette, Charlotte Bronte
Villette is a lengthy novel told by the duplicitous first person narrator, Lucy Snowe, about her life as an English governess in the faux Belgian city of Villette.
What I Liked: Charlotte Bronte is truly writes beautifully, and the language in this book is delightful
What I Didn't Like: This book drove me crazy. One problem is that it was simply too long--many times I found myself screaming inside "just get on with it!" Huge sections of the book were about Lucy Snowe judging other people, or being judged. Then I found myself screaming "stop being so damn judgmental and just get on with your lives!" And, as in Jane Eyre, there is a tremendous amount of surveillance going on--everyone is constantly watching the other and trying to control other's behaviors through surveillance. It's interesting how this combines with Lucy Snowe's layers of concealment (which actually makes me think it's an element of the novel that perhaps I like--at least it would make an interesting essay topic. But, yea!, I don't have to write an essay on Villette.) But I digress . . .
And as in Jane Eyre, some of the plot developments were just too convenient (although, unlike Jane Eyre, they weren't as unintentionally comical). Although I get that Lucy Snowe is intentionally concealing facts in order to tell HER story, I think most readers would have liked more information about her past and how she came to be in this situation.
Many readers today are annoyed or even offended by Bronte's commentary on Catholicism, and I can see their point. It's not just Catholics who she looks down on though, but anyone non-English. It seems very dated, although I suppose this book could be viewed as cultural commentary on its time and place.
If so, then it gives me yet another reason to be happy that I didn't live back then--Lucy Snowe's was a most unpleasant world.
Rating: Part of me sees this book as a 4 star read, but another really loud voice says 2. So I guess that makes it 3 stars out of 5.
Recommended for: This one is only for the true-blue 19th century fiction fan.
Villette is a lengthy novel told by the duplicitous first person narrator, Lucy Snowe, about her life as an English governess in the faux Belgian city of Villette.
What I Liked: Charlotte Bronte is truly writes beautifully, and the language in this book is delightful
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for its own sake. I also like the atmosphere created by the tension of the dark, almost gothic elements threatening the light. Even though Lucy Snowe's cagey, enigmatic narrative technique often drove me a little crazy, I did like how there was a lot that went unsaid in this novel. I also liked the proto-feminist statements and stance of the book.What I Didn't Like: This book drove me crazy. One problem is that it was simply too long--many times I found myself screaming inside "just get on with it!" Huge sections of the book were about Lucy Snowe judging other people, or being judged. Then I found myself screaming "stop being so damn judgmental and just get on with your lives!" And, as in Jane Eyre, there is a tremendous amount of surveillance going on--everyone is constantly watching the other and trying to control other's behaviors through surveillance. It's interesting how this combines with Lucy Snowe's layers of concealment (which actually makes me think it's an element of the novel that perhaps I like--at least it would make an interesting essay topic. But, yea!, I don't have to write an essay on Villette.) But I digress . . .
And as in Jane Eyre, some of the plot developments were just too convenient (although, unlike Jane Eyre, they weren't as unintentionally comical). Although I get that Lucy Snowe is intentionally concealing facts in order to tell HER story, I think most readers would have liked more information about her past and how she came to be in this situation.
Many readers today are annoyed or even offended by Bronte's commentary on Catholicism, and I can see their point. It's not just Catholics who she looks down on though, but anyone non-English. It seems very dated, although I suppose this book could be viewed as cultural commentary on its time and place.
If so, then it gives me yet another reason to be happy that I didn't live back then--Lucy Snowe's was a most unpleasant world.
Rating: Part of me sees this book as a 4 star read, but another really loud voice says 2. So I guess that makes it 3 stars out of 5.
Recommended for: This one is only for the true-blue 19th century fiction fan.
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LibraryThing member aaronbaron
Lucy Snow, the star-crossed narrator of Villette, is a destitute, lonely, and intelligent young woman who ventures into a vaguely sinister francophone country in order to find work and forge some of the thickest emotional armor in British literature. She is also a devious and unapologetic liar. You
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can never escape Lucy’s mind, but neither can you trust it. This result is an intense story that simmers just below the boiling point. But what saves the book from turning into an overheated psychological chessgame is the inexorable, heartbreaking, and yet ultimately redeeming need for love. Indeed, it contains one of the most passionate romances ever written. How to find love without letting others, including the loved one, manipulate and exploit our need for love? How to write a novel that is searlingly emotional without being sentimental or melodramatic? That is Charlotte Bronte’s achievement, and Lucy’s painful but necessary defensive maneuvers taught me how to survive some of the more bleak periods in my life. Show Less
LibraryThing member StoutHearted
A surprising novel, since it starts out frustratingly slow. But it soon develops into a fine psychological novel with gothic themes thrown in for extra measure. The novel's heroine, Lucy Snowe, is an orphan sent to the care of her kindly godmother, but soon must make it out into the world on her
A curious recurrance in the novel are the many coincidences that happen, often involving characters from the past. These people are initially concealed by the author under a different name until she chooses to reveal all to us. This can either be tolerated by the reader, or it will exasperate.
But an interesting effect of the somewhat-reliable narrator is that the motif compliments the novel's interesting psychological evaluation of Lucy. We see her cling to her ideals of Protestantism and Englishness, while succumbing on a few occaisions to an intense emotional breakdown from her isolation, and even has a few ghost sightings! We see her lie to herself about her unrequited schoolgirl crush on a doctor, and struggle with her beliefs that love and marriage is not meant for women like her. Taken into her mind, we can sympathize with Lucy and also perceive things that she herself does not realize. We see her jealousy, her passion, her anguish in isolation and how it eventually leads to her breakdown.
While without the thundering romance of "Jane Eyre," this novel retains the fierceness of love that slowly builds up to the end's climax. There is sweetness in the reservations between Lucy and Paul, even their jealousies become endearing. I reread this book several times, and still enjoy reading their scenes together. Sadly, "Villette" falls in the shadow if its more famous kin, "Jane Eyre," but should be read by any Bronte fan, who will recognize parts similar to Anne's "Agnes Grey" and Charlotte's "The Professor."
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own. With marriage not an option for someone of her class and background, she resigns herself to a life of dutiful work as a teacher, and sets off abroad for the fictional place of Labassecoeur to secure work. There, she is an outsider; far from home, speaking English where the townspeople all speak French, and given a position teaching spoiled rich girls, a rigid Protestant among Catholics. One of the instructors in charge at the school, Monsieur Paul, takes an interest in Lucy, and the two embark on a rocky friendship that blossoms in a hesitant romantic interest.A curious recurrance in the novel are the many coincidences that happen, often involving characters from the past. These people are initially concealed by the author under a different name until she chooses to reveal all to us. This can either be tolerated by the reader, or it will exasperate.
But an interesting effect of the somewhat-reliable narrator is that the motif compliments the novel's interesting psychological evaluation of Lucy. We see her cling to her ideals of Protestantism and Englishness, while succumbing on a few occaisions to an intense emotional breakdown from her isolation, and even has a few ghost sightings! We see her lie to herself about her unrequited schoolgirl crush on a doctor, and struggle with her beliefs that love and marriage is not meant for women like her. Taken into her mind, we can sympathize with Lucy and also perceive things that she herself does not realize. We see her jealousy, her passion, her anguish in isolation and how it eventually leads to her breakdown.
While without the thundering romance of "Jane Eyre," this novel retains the fierceness of love that slowly builds up to the end's climax. There is sweetness in the reservations between Lucy and Paul, even their jealousies become endearing. I reread this book several times, and still enjoy reading their scenes together. Sadly, "Villette" falls in the shadow if its more famous kin, "Jane Eyre," but should be read by any Bronte fan, who will recognize parts similar to Anne's "Agnes Grey" and Charlotte's "The Professor."
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LibraryThing member jmchshannon
Villette is a novel that makes more sense when the reader has knowledge of Charlotte Bronte's biography and understands the turmoil in her life at the time she wrote it. Written after her sisters' deaths, Charlotte's anguish is written into almost every word of the novel. As a reader, it is
In fact, the entire novel is a struggle to read. There are clear inconsistencies in the behaviors and attitudes of the main characters that can be extremely frustrating for a reader if read without the background knowledge. With this knowledge, however, the inconsistencies can be excused as a result of her struggles to console herself after tragedy and are at least understandable.
While Villette is no Jane Eyre, it remains as close to a self-portrait of the authoress as one will ever get. The loneliness one can imagine Charlotte feeling is present in Lucy Snowe as she loses every family member and must strike out into the world completely alone. Her love-hate relationship with M. Emanuel is symbolic of the relationship Charlotte maintained with M. Heger. Her love-hate relationship with being a teacher is indicative of her thoughts on her own experiences as a teacher in a foreign country. As much as Lucy proclaims how satisfied she is with her life, the reader cannot help but feel that Charlotte thought the exact opposite of her own experiences.
Surprisingly, much about Lucy is quite forward-thinking for the time period. She is a single woman traveling to a foreign country with no chaperone or concrete plans, a woman who prefers to remain single and proprietress of her own business versus getting married, and someone who does not succumb to the pressure to wear the latest fashions or attend the hottest events in town. This all could be an indicator of an enlightened woman. However, the overall impact is the suggestion that Charlotte was actually trying to convince herself that it is okay to be alone. There are hints given through Lucy's thoughts and speech that she truly does not prefer the life she leads that suggest Charlotte's struggles at this idea.
In the end, Villette is enjoyable to read if only because it allows the reader a clear glimpse into the mind of the author and allows the reader to feel a level of intimacy and sympathy with Charlotte that is typically not generated in novels. Lucy is admirable in her strength of character and her composure, even if her thoughts do not mirror her declarations to others. Indeed, Lucy is not a typical Victorian heroine and well worth the pain and effort it takes to get to understand her while simultaneously understanding the author's need to write such a heroine. For those readers looking for another Jane Eyre, Villette is one to be avoided. For those looking for exposure to a Victorian novel unlike any other, written by a member of one of the best Victorian writing families ever, Villette is one to add to their repertoire.
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difficult to remain impervious to the pain and depression that is apparent on each page.In fact, the entire novel is a struggle to read. There are clear inconsistencies in the behaviors and attitudes of the main characters that can be extremely frustrating for a reader if read without the background knowledge. With this knowledge, however, the inconsistencies can be excused as a result of her struggles to console herself after tragedy and are at least understandable.
While Villette is no Jane Eyre, it remains as close to a self-portrait of the authoress as one will ever get. The loneliness one can imagine Charlotte feeling is present in Lucy Snowe as she loses every family member and must strike out into the world completely alone. Her love-hate relationship with M. Emanuel is symbolic of the relationship Charlotte maintained with M. Heger. Her love-hate relationship with being a teacher is indicative of her thoughts on her own experiences as a teacher in a foreign country. As much as Lucy proclaims how satisfied she is with her life, the reader cannot help but feel that Charlotte thought the exact opposite of her own experiences.
Surprisingly, much about Lucy is quite forward-thinking for the time period. She is a single woman traveling to a foreign country with no chaperone or concrete plans, a woman who prefers to remain single and proprietress of her own business versus getting married, and someone who does not succumb to the pressure to wear the latest fashions or attend the hottest events in town. This all could be an indicator of an enlightened woman. However, the overall impact is the suggestion that Charlotte was actually trying to convince herself that it is okay to be alone. There are hints given through Lucy's thoughts and speech that she truly does not prefer the life she leads that suggest Charlotte's struggles at this idea.
In the end, Villette is enjoyable to read if only because it allows the reader a clear glimpse into the mind of the author and allows the reader to feel a level of intimacy and sympathy with Charlotte that is typically not generated in novels. Lucy is admirable in her strength of character and her composure, even if her thoughts do not mirror her declarations to others. Indeed, Lucy is not a typical Victorian heroine and well worth the pain and effort it takes to get to understand her while simultaneously understanding the author's need to write such a heroine. For those readers looking for another Jane Eyre, Villette is one to be avoided. For those looking for exposure to a Victorian novel unlike any other, written by a member of one of the best Victorian writing families ever, Villette is one to add to their repertoire.
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LibraryThing member Stevil2001
I don't get the love for the Brontës. Okay, Jane Eyre is a classic, but everything else I've read thus far reads like it was written by a teenage girl suffering from a massive inferiority complex. Actually, so does Jane Eyre, but it rises above it. Villette does not. This is the story of Lucy
Or not, as Helen Cooper's editing of this Penguin Classic edition is not the greatest; I question the value of any scholarly edition that feels the need to tell me what the House of Commons is. Or the Garden of Eden.
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Snowe, a girl who no one understands-- because she's just too deep and complex for them! And too good for them. And no one loves her, but maybe that's because she never gives any of them any signs of affection herself. Also, she's an annoying narrator, holding back information for no readily apparent reason. Also, the story contains an absurd amount of coincidence which makes Jane Eyre falling asleep on the doorstep of her cousin positively plausible. Maybe no one likes you because you're stuck-up and obnoxious, Lucy, did you think of that? And anti-Catholic, that's really endearing too. And racist. Though for someone who hates the French, Brontë sure does put an obnoxious amount of the dialogue in French. Thank God for the endnotes.Or not, as Helen Cooper's editing of this Penguin Classic edition is not the greatest; I question the value of any scholarly edition that feels the need to tell me what the House of Commons is. Or the Garden of Eden.
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LibraryThing member baswood
[Villette] by Charlotte Bronte
It is hard to believe that Villette was published in 1853 and yet its style is so very reminiscent of its era. It reads like a Victorian novel but one with hardly any plot to speak of, there are ghosts, there are love stories, there are strict manners and men rule the
Lucy Snowe as an unmarried women without any prospects must work for her living. She is not particularly attractive and so without good looks or money she has little to offer on the marriage market, especially at a time when there were far more young women than men in the world. She has just enough money to seek her fortune on the continent and has some luck in finding a place as an assistant in a girls school in the country of Labassecoeur. Labassecour to all intents and purposes is France and I would imagine that Bronte made it an imaginary country because of the anti-French feel of much of her novel. A major theme of the novel is how hard work, diligence and knowing ones place in society is essential for an unmarried woman to survive. Lucy is quiet and undemonstrative on the surface with an iron will that keeps her feelings in check, but inside her head which is where most of the story takes place she is both vulnerable and passionate. She does not allow herself to fall in love and yet her inner feelings are centred on two extraordinary men and we follow her hopes her desires and her confusion as she tries to come to terms with her feelings and her position in society.
It is a novel where we have to rely on other peoples observations of Lucy Snowe to get a more balanced picture. Lucy herself is not so much unreliable as perplexed in her thoughts and as she is telling her story in the first person then the reader must sift the evidence. Bronte’s point in presenting such a character is to demonstrate how difficult it was for a woman to make her way in such a closed (to her) society. How should an intelligent woman come to terms with her situation? Paulina a childhood friend says of Lucy:
“Lucy I wonder if anybody will comprehend you all together”
and:
M Paul to Lucy “You want so much checking, regulating, and keeping down” This idea of keeping down never left M Pauls head; the most habitual subjugation would, in my case, have failed to relieve him of it.
Here is the rub because not only must Lucy keep her vulnerability and passions in check she must also keep her rebellious spirit from surfacing too often. Those people who know her best perceive this in her as do the readers who are privy to her thoughts and her occasional outspoken and prickly comments to others.
Bronte was able to develop other themes through Lucy that were topical at her time of writing. I have already mentioned the anti French feeling, but this is also entwined with an inbuilt anti-catholicism. Lucy is fiercely protestant and finds herself living and working in a catholic school and falling in love with a catholic man. It is no accident that the school in which she works is run a little like a police state with Madame Beck keeping her pupils and teachers under constant surveillance. M Paul also boasts of how he spies on all the pupils and teachers and this is likened to the catholic religion that is seen as one of control and manipulation of peoples souls. Lucy must rebel against this, but she needs to use all her resources so as not to fall foul of the system.
Bronte’s metaphor for a troubled mind is a storm, sometimes a storm at sea and these always precipitate a major event in Lucy’s life. M Paul’s character is perceived as stormy and at the end of the novel it is a storm that represents a slightly ambiguous ending. Bronte’s writing here and in the ghost scenes is most representative of what we have come to know as Victorian gothic. However it is the exploration of the thoughts and feelings of Lucy Snowe that takes this novel out of the general run of novels of it’s time. It is insightful, it is thought provoking, it is not perfect as one imagines a novel should be, but it is one of those books that I look forward to re-reading. 5 stars.
It is hard to believe that Villette was published in 1853 and yet its style is so very reminiscent of its era. It reads like a Victorian novel but one with hardly any plot to speak of, there are ghosts, there are love stories, there are strict manners and men rule the
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world, but we see this through the eyes of Lucy Snowe a very unlikely hero. It is a psychological study first and foremost but one in which the protagonist thinks and acts according to the proscribed values of the world in which she lives. It is the psychological aspect and the unremarkable story line that seems to portend towards modernism, but Bronte’s writing locks it firmly in the world of the Victorian novel.Lucy Snowe as an unmarried women without any prospects must work for her living. She is not particularly attractive and so without good looks or money she has little to offer on the marriage market, especially at a time when there were far more young women than men in the world. She has just enough money to seek her fortune on the continent and has some luck in finding a place as an assistant in a girls school in the country of Labassecoeur. Labassecour to all intents and purposes is France and I would imagine that Bronte made it an imaginary country because of the anti-French feel of much of her novel. A major theme of the novel is how hard work, diligence and knowing ones place in society is essential for an unmarried woman to survive. Lucy is quiet and undemonstrative on the surface with an iron will that keeps her feelings in check, but inside her head which is where most of the story takes place she is both vulnerable and passionate. She does not allow herself to fall in love and yet her inner feelings are centred on two extraordinary men and we follow her hopes her desires and her confusion as she tries to come to terms with her feelings and her position in society.
It is a novel where we have to rely on other peoples observations of Lucy Snowe to get a more balanced picture. Lucy herself is not so much unreliable as perplexed in her thoughts and as she is telling her story in the first person then the reader must sift the evidence. Bronte’s point in presenting such a character is to demonstrate how difficult it was for a woman to make her way in such a closed (to her) society. How should an intelligent woman come to terms with her situation? Paulina a childhood friend says of Lucy:
“Lucy I wonder if anybody will comprehend you all together”
and:
M Paul to Lucy “You want so much checking, regulating, and keeping down” This idea of keeping down never left M Pauls head; the most habitual subjugation would, in my case, have failed to relieve him of it.
Here is the rub because not only must Lucy keep her vulnerability and passions in check she must also keep her rebellious spirit from surfacing too often. Those people who know her best perceive this in her as do the readers who are privy to her thoughts and her occasional outspoken and prickly comments to others.
Bronte was able to develop other themes through Lucy that were topical at her time of writing. I have already mentioned the anti French feeling, but this is also entwined with an inbuilt anti-catholicism. Lucy is fiercely protestant and finds herself living and working in a catholic school and falling in love with a catholic man. It is no accident that the school in which she works is run a little like a police state with Madame Beck keeping her pupils and teachers under constant surveillance. M Paul also boasts of how he spies on all the pupils and teachers and this is likened to the catholic religion that is seen as one of control and manipulation of peoples souls. Lucy must rebel against this, but she needs to use all her resources so as not to fall foul of the system.
Bronte’s metaphor for a troubled mind is a storm, sometimes a storm at sea and these always precipitate a major event in Lucy’s life. M Paul’s character is perceived as stormy and at the end of the novel it is a storm that represents a slightly ambiguous ending. Bronte’s writing here and in the ghost scenes is most representative of what we have come to know as Victorian gothic. However it is the exploration of the thoughts and feelings of Lucy Snowe that takes this novel out of the general run of novels of it’s time. It is insightful, it is thought provoking, it is not perfect as one imagines a novel should be, but it is one of those books that I look forward to re-reading. 5 stars.
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LibraryThing member eleanor_eader
With neither friend nor family to turn to, Lucy Snowe leaves England (it would be easy to say ‘is forced by reduced circumstance’, but her character is capable of more than passive decision) with the slightest notion of employment in the fictional (Belgian?) town of Villette. Quickly dealing
I liked this story very much; for all it’s sadness it was encouraging, for all it’s teasing it was practical. Lucy Snowe may be the best character of romantic period fiction I have ever encountered. Despite a weaker plot-line, she presents as much wiser than Ms. Eyre, she (or, rather, Ms. Brontë) portrays her colleagues and friends with a searching and pragmatic eye, kinder than fierce, but responsive to instinct. The psychology and inner life of Miss Lucy Snowe is the more important aspect of the story.
Through Miss Snowe we are introduced to M. Paul Emmanuel. Forget the perfect, benign Dr. Bretton for whom Lucy first harbours a strong admiration; although I loved his dialogue, wildly adored his mother and enjoyed his affection for Lucy, and laughed at his preferences first for Miss Farnshaw and then Miss ‘Polly’, I read the book with a strong preference for the ‘small tyrant’, the dictatorial professor who challenges and rails at the Female English Protestant at every turn. Charlotte Bronte obviously enjoyed writing this character, because he jumps off every page and (even when speaking French, thereby making me check the notes on the text at the end of the book frequently, to ensure I hadn’t missed any nuance of conversation) whips up a delight in acquaintanceship, perfectly communicated through Miss Snowe to the reader. He is, in fact, a hoot, even before he emerges as a warm contender for Lucy’s romantic consideration.
*****spoiler warning*****
As with an earlier passage where Lucy suggests the reader imagine intervening years between text tranquil and trouble-free, if they prefer, so we know that the ‘open’ ending does not see Lucy finally settled with her heart’s hope… not merely because of her mildly unreliable narrator’s trait, but because Miss Brontë, having settled on a tragic ending, was encouraged by her father and publisher to allow a gentler final paragraph. The author’s intentions are clear; the storm has rolled in, Lucy’s happiness must light on the love she has been shown, and her improved position (not small things). Despite this tendency to believe the morbid turn, I think the story is still ultimately a glad one ‘There. I have been loved’ Lucy seems to say. The reader, now knowing her well, understands that she will not perish from depression, though she might be sorely afflicted by it, that she will do nothing less than honour the memory of the fantastic, fiery Prof. M. Paul Emmanuel.
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with practical concerns, and taking a position in a school, her story is a study of the pain of unrequited love, but also an acknowledgement (even a small celebration of the fact) that a woman’s life is not nothing if she cannot have the man she loves.I liked this story very much; for all it’s sadness it was encouraging, for all it’s teasing it was practical. Lucy Snowe may be the best character of romantic period fiction I have ever encountered. Despite a weaker plot-line, she presents as much wiser than Ms. Eyre, she (or, rather, Ms. Brontë) portrays her colleagues and friends with a searching and pragmatic eye, kinder than fierce, but responsive to instinct. The psychology and inner life of Miss Lucy Snowe is the more important aspect of the story.
Through Miss Snowe we are introduced to M. Paul Emmanuel. Forget the perfect, benign Dr. Bretton for whom Lucy first harbours a strong admiration; although I loved his dialogue, wildly adored his mother and enjoyed his affection for Lucy, and laughed at his preferences first for Miss Farnshaw and then Miss ‘Polly’, I read the book with a strong preference for the ‘small tyrant’, the dictatorial professor who challenges and rails at the Female English Protestant at every turn. Charlotte Bronte obviously enjoyed writing this character, because he jumps off every page and (even when speaking French, thereby making me check the notes on the text at the end of the book frequently, to ensure I hadn’t missed any nuance of conversation) whips up a delight in acquaintanceship, perfectly communicated through Miss Snowe to the reader. He is, in fact, a hoot, even before he emerges as a warm contender for Lucy’s romantic consideration.
*****spoiler warning*****
As with an earlier passage where Lucy suggests the reader imagine intervening years between text tranquil and trouble-free, if they prefer, so we know that the ‘open’ ending does not see Lucy finally settled with her heart’s hope… not merely because of her mildly unreliable narrator’s trait, but because Miss Brontë, having settled on a tragic ending, was encouraged by her father and publisher to allow a gentler final paragraph. The author’s intentions are clear; the storm has rolled in, Lucy’s happiness must light on the love she has been shown, and her improved position (not small things). Despite this tendency to believe the morbid turn, I think the story is still ultimately a glad one ‘There. I have been loved’ Lucy seems to say. The reader, now knowing her well, understands that she will not perish from depression, though she might be sorely afflicted by it, that she will do nothing less than honour the memory of the fantastic, fiery Prof. M. Paul Emmanuel.
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LibraryThing member BeeQuiet
Usually upon finishing a book if I have clearly defined feelings for it either way, those feelings shall become muted over time and I will forget the initial burst of emotion which created such an opinion. I have to say that this is far from being the case with Villette. This being my first book by
The story follows Lucy Snowe as she struggles to find her feet after becoming all but destitute. She bravely decides to move to the continent to try to find work there and eventually becomes an English teacher at a girl's school. The reader is taken into Miss Snowe's confidence, learning of her loneliness, her joy, her hopes, her disappointments. We watch the shifting fortunes of those close to Lucy, and I found that far from Austen's entirely predictable story lines, I really did not know what was going to happen in the end to most of the characters. These are complex people as opposed to two-dimensional moral examples. Lucy occasionally behaves in an unreasonable way, yet I would always find myself empathising, chuckling and believing I would most probably have reacted in exactly the same way. This, I believe, was the ultimate charm of Villette: believable, warm, or even intensely irritating characters who were wonderfully fleshed out and brought to life. Lucy Snowe is as strong a female character as you would ever be likely to find in most modern fiction, and this delighted me. Her dry, witty commentary on unfolding events always made me laugh and by the end of the story I felt I had made a dear friend.
I may not have yet read Jane Eyre, but believe me, I soon will.
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Charlotte (no, I haven't read Jane Eyre yet), I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. Having read Austen and found it incredibly dreary, repetitive and passionless, I was concerned that perhaps this owed a certain amount to the socialisation of the period and would have Charlotte be the same. Having read Villette, I have since discovered that her opinion of Austen was much the same as my own.The story follows Lucy Snowe as she struggles to find her feet after becoming all but destitute. She bravely decides to move to the continent to try to find work there and eventually becomes an English teacher at a girl's school. The reader is taken into Miss Snowe's confidence, learning of her loneliness, her joy, her hopes, her disappointments. We watch the shifting fortunes of those close to Lucy, and I found that far from Austen's entirely predictable story lines, I really did not know what was going to happen in the end to most of the characters. These are complex people as opposed to two-dimensional moral examples. Lucy occasionally behaves in an unreasonable way, yet I would always find myself empathising, chuckling and believing I would most probably have reacted in exactly the same way. This, I believe, was the ultimate charm of Villette: believable, warm, or even intensely irritating characters who were wonderfully fleshed out and brought to life. Lucy Snowe is as strong a female character as you would ever be likely to find in most modern fiction, and this delighted me. Her dry, witty commentary on unfolding events always made me laugh and by the end of the story I felt I had made a dear friend.
I may not have yet read Jane Eyre, but believe me, I soon will.
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LibraryThing member Petroglyph
SPOILERS THROUGHOUT THIS REVIEW
TL;DR: There are a few things I liked about this book, but overall, to me, this is an instance where changing times and mores have rendered earlier centuries’ attitudes too distasteful to be ignored.
I liked the main character. Miss Snowe is clever, resourceful, and
However.
The attitudes espoused in the book and held up by the characters as “how things ought to be” I found too distasteful to overlook: there’s aggressive patriarchal abuse, there’s sanctimonious posturing with religious credentials, and there’s colonial-style racism aplenty. They may make the text a rich field to explore intellectually, but they annoyed much of the reading pleasure out of me.
First, there’s the gender issues. Viewed as a romance novel, Villette presents the main character, introverted expat teacher Lucy Snowe, with the choice between two love interests. One is an ideal (English)man, whose ideal spouse is one who is his intellectual partner. And on the other hand there is M. Emanuel, a domineering, exacting brute with frightening anger management issues and temper tantrums, who will not tolerate contradiction or even imagined disobedience. His ideal woman is one who obeys him absolutely (an arch eyebrow will trigger a “know your place, woman” speech), who immerses herself in him, lives up to his exacting yet unspoken standards, and who successfully navigates his moving-the-goalposts scrutiny. Spoiler: This is the one Miss Snowe ends up choosing.
Brontë “redeems” M. Emanuel in true battered-woman form: his exactitude, tyranny and temper tantrums merely stem from genuine, full-on passion and honesty, dontcha see? That’s just who he is. Also, he’s been hurt before: doesn’t that earn him indulgence and compassion? That time he scolded her for wearing clothes that weren’t mouse-grey and wildly (and knowingly) exaggerated their showiness because even a mild “transgression” is a transgression? That’s not domineering, it just shows you he cares. His constantly lording his academic superiority over her, well he only means the best for her, and his expectations are high! Don’t you see that he needs to test her, to be sure she’ll live up to his standards? It’s for her own good. Really, he means well. That time he showed her some much-needed affection and then went completely incommunicado for two weeks, well, that was necessary because he was preparing a surprise, and he would not be able to keep it from her if she subjected him to her sincere and irresistible feminine questions. So you see, it really was her own fault. Also, her emotional despair during the interval is irrelevant, this really was about his emotions.
Lucy Snowe (and the reader) is not to notice the systematic pattern of denigration and abuse. We are invited to see him as a poor, suffering victim who needs fixing by a special woman who can see the real person underneath the abuse and tyranny.
This is where the religious hypocrisy comes in: M. Emanuel is, after all, a very pious man -- surely that will vouch for his decency?
Much is made of Emanuel’s strongly held Roman Catholicism: to illustrate that, it is revealed that he has been spending his last twenty years in self-imposed mortification, near-poverty and deprivation, in order to benefit people who kinda sorta wronged him. Brontë presents that as laudable and redeem-worthy because isn’t he just sooo pious? I thought it was merely perverse, a case of ostentatious and downright pathological Catholic guilt taken to extremes. Especially because the revelation about his mortification is presented to the reader as an invitation to reconsider the quality of his character: it takes principles and lofty morality and strength of resolve to commit to this course of action. Well, no. To me, this turns the whole affair into a case of ostentatious flagellation, designed to trigger goodwill: showy Catholic suffering used as emotional manipulation while pretending to high morality. Somebody is suffering beyond necessity; therefore the issue deep and admirable and worthwhile. No, it really, really isn’t. (It is true that it is Brontë who sets it up like this, but in-universe it is M. Emanuel who expects the revelation to change Miss Snowe’s opinion of him, too.)
And finally, there is the racism. The main cast consists mostly of smug, impossibly arrogant English expats looking down on both the locals and the immigrants -- except other Englishmen, and the occasional Frenchman, who, after all, represents a prestigious and long-standing High Culture. They are so smug they do not realize they are immigrants too -- and do not realize their smugness. The native people of Labassecour/Belgium are generally described as too rural, ugly and stupid to merit any interest, except for a few of the ones who’ve mastered enough French to not sound like a local. Anyone who’s worth noticing is either a French or an English expat/immigrant; even the indigenous royalty, nobility and bourgeoisie is dismissed haughtily, not to be taken seriously as company or one’s intellectual equals.
(Disclaimer: I myself am Belgian.)
It’s not as though these issues are mainly located in the background as (well, the racism is, usually): the patriarchal abuse is held up front and center, and the main focus of the book, and this made it too hard for me to give the book the benefit of the doubt. The fact that pretentious religious posturing is presented as a redeeming factor did not help.
TL;DR: There are a few things I liked about this book, but overall, to me, this is an instance where changing times and mores have rendered earlier centuries’ attitudes too distasteful to be ignored.
I liked the main character. Miss Snowe is clever, resourceful, and
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knows what she wants (even if her ambitions are low). Her snarkiness plays a big role in her charm. She’s a wonderfully complex character. There were enough interesting musings and general bird’s-eye views on life mixed in with the text, too. It drags in places, but overall the narrative maintains a pleasant momentum. However.
The attitudes espoused in the book and held up by the characters as “how things ought to be” I found too distasteful to overlook: there’s aggressive patriarchal abuse, there’s sanctimonious posturing with religious credentials, and there’s colonial-style racism aplenty. They may make the text a rich field to explore intellectually, but they annoyed much of the reading pleasure out of me.
First, there’s the gender issues. Viewed as a romance novel, Villette presents the main character, introverted expat teacher Lucy Snowe, with the choice between two love interests. One is an ideal (English)man, whose ideal spouse is one who is his intellectual partner. And on the other hand there is M. Emanuel, a domineering, exacting brute with frightening anger management issues and temper tantrums, who will not tolerate contradiction or even imagined disobedience. His ideal woman is one who obeys him absolutely (an arch eyebrow will trigger a “know your place, woman” speech), who immerses herself in him, lives up to his exacting yet unspoken standards, and who successfully navigates his moving-the-goalposts scrutiny. Spoiler: This is the one Miss Snowe ends up choosing.
Brontë “redeems” M. Emanuel in true battered-woman form: his exactitude, tyranny and temper tantrums merely stem from genuine, full-on passion and honesty, dontcha see? That’s just who he is. Also, he’s been hurt before: doesn’t that earn him indulgence and compassion? That time he scolded her for wearing clothes that weren’t mouse-grey and wildly (and knowingly) exaggerated their showiness because even a mild “transgression” is a transgression? That’s not domineering, it just shows you he cares. His constantly lording his academic superiority over her, well he only means the best for her, and his expectations are high! Don’t you see that he needs to test her, to be sure she’ll live up to his standards? It’s for her own good. Really, he means well. That time he showed her some much-needed affection and then went completely incommunicado for two weeks, well, that was necessary because he was preparing a surprise, and he would not be able to keep it from her if she subjected him to her sincere and irresistible feminine questions. So you see, it really was her own fault. Also, her emotional despair during the interval is irrelevant, this really was about his emotions.
Lucy Snowe (and the reader) is not to notice the systematic pattern of denigration and abuse. We are invited to see him as a poor, suffering victim who needs fixing by a special woman who can see the real person underneath the abuse and tyranny.
This is where the religious hypocrisy comes in: M. Emanuel is, after all, a very pious man -- surely that will vouch for his decency?
Much is made of Emanuel’s strongly held Roman Catholicism: to illustrate that, it is revealed that he has been spending his last twenty years in self-imposed mortification, near-poverty and deprivation, in order to benefit people who kinda sorta wronged him. Brontë presents that as laudable and redeem-worthy because isn’t he just sooo pious? I thought it was merely perverse, a case of ostentatious and downright pathological Catholic guilt taken to extremes. Especially because the revelation about his mortification is presented to the reader as an invitation to reconsider the quality of his character: it takes principles and lofty morality and strength of resolve to commit to this course of action. Well, no. To me, this turns the whole affair into a case of ostentatious flagellation, designed to trigger goodwill: showy Catholic suffering used as emotional manipulation while pretending to high morality. Somebody is suffering beyond necessity; therefore the issue deep and admirable and worthwhile. No, it really, really isn’t. (It is true that it is Brontë who sets it up like this, but in-universe it is M. Emanuel who expects the revelation to change Miss Snowe’s opinion of him, too.)
And finally, there is the racism. The main cast consists mostly of smug, impossibly arrogant English expats looking down on both the locals and the immigrants -- except other Englishmen, and the occasional Frenchman, who, after all, represents a prestigious and long-standing High Culture. They are so smug they do not realize they are immigrants too -- and do not realize their smugness. The native people of Labassecour/Belgium are generally described as too rural, ugly and stupid to merit any interest, except for a few of the ones who’ve mastered enough French to not sound like a local. Anyone who’s worth noticing is either a French or an English expat/immigrant; even the indigenous royalty, nobility and bourgeoisie is dismissed haughtily, not to be taken seriously as company or one’s intellectual equals.
(Disclaimer: I myself am Belgian.)
It’s not as though these issues are mainly located in the background as (well, the racism is, usually): the patriarchal abuse is held up front and center, and the main focus of the book, and this made it too hard for me to give the book the benefit of the doubt. The fact that pretentious religious posturing is presented as a redeeming factor did not help.
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LibraryThing member arthos
After a tragedy, Lucy Snowe is left without close family connections, and travels to France in hopes of finding a position as a governess. She is led by fate to the little city of Villette, and soon finds herself an English teacher in a boarding school.
Lucy is excessively reserved, the very model
"I shall share no man's or woman's life in this world, as you understand sharing. I think I have one friend of my own, but am not sure; and till I am sure, I live solitary."
"But solitude is sadness."
"Yes; it is sadness. Life, however, has worse than that. Deeper than melancholy, lies heartbreak."
The book is every bit as good as its reputation. One identifies completely with what ought to be a cold and unsympathetic character. Precisely that makes the book moving, by turns exhilarating and distressing.
Lucy is excessively reserved, the very model
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of a pinched, spinster school-marm. But her inner life is anything but; the reserve bottles up an inner turmoil: a need for love and a despair of ever finding it. Speaking to a woman who has just been engaged, Lucy says:"I shall share no man's or woman's life in this world, as you understand sharing. I think I have one friend of my own, but am not sure; and till I am sure, I live solitary."
"But solitude is sadness."
"Yes; it is sadness. Life, however, has worse than that. Deeper than melancholy, lies heartbreak."
The book is every bit as good as its reputation. One identifies completely with what ought to be a cold and unsympathetic character. Precisely that makes the book moving, by turns exhilarating and distressing.
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LibraryThing member stephxsu
This is the second CB book I've read (the first was Jane Eyre several years ago) and I'm sorry to say that I still have not discovered why the Bronte sisters are so popular. The protagonist of VILLETTE, Lucy Snowe, lacked personality, an almost pathetic observer, not participant, of her world. I
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realize that this is probably what CB was going for, but I've never understood why protagonists/narrators have to sound like they have nothing that redeems them in the eyes of readers. The plot moves at a snail-like pace and gets a bit predictable and/or sensational at times. I think CB fans will probably like this one, as it does contain her usual odd-but-fascinating characters, in-depth character analyses, and splashes of the supernatural/gothic, but I'm sad to say that this wasn't for me. Show Less
LibraryThing member bookworm12
Lucy Snowe is an orphaned girl who finds herself taking a job as an instructor at a French boarding school in the town of Villette. Throughout the course of the novel we’re introduced to a wide selection of characters: the spoiled young Polly, handsome Dr. John, Lucy’s cruel employer Madame
This novel is famous in literary circles because of the illusive heroine. Lucy keeps secret from the reader and never lets us completely into her world. There’s so much we don’t know about her and at times that can be frustrating, but I do love her acerbic nature. She’s often short or condescending; she sometimes calls people out on their bad choices in love or challenges them in other ways. Lucy is beyond interesting. I also love the fact that her job is important to her and that throughout the book the pursuit of education is valued.
Lucy’s character reminds me so much of Esther from Bleak House. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I read both books in the same year, but it’s not just that. Both women are quiet and reserved, never giving the reader a complete picture of who they are. Both are instrumental in getting to close friends together, both fall for someone, but assume they can’t ever be together for one reason or another. I just kept having flashbacks. I checked the dates and the books were actually published in the same year, though Dickens’ was serialized the year before. I doubt either author was aware of the other’s novel when they were writing their own.
In so many ways I can understand why Villette is considered Charlotte’s masterpiece. The characters and their relationships are much more complicated and the tone is much darker. I also think the writing is exquisite, even better than in her earlier work. Villette really was way ahead of its time. But I will also say it didn’t impact me in the same way that Jane Eyre did and I think a big part of that is my own personality.
Most of the people I know who have loved Villette more than Jane Eyre identify with Lucy in a very personal way. They are usually quieter, more introspective and reserved and that’s just not me. I’m a bit of a chatterbox and I tend to be incredibly social. I do love being at home alone and curling up with a good book, but I like being out and about with my friends just as much. So it was harder for me to connect with Lucy. It’s not that Jane Eyre is Miss Social Butterfly, but she does stand up for herself and she’s a bit of a rebel. I love her open dialogue with the reader. I felt like I knew her in a way that I never did with Lucy.
I missed the humor you find in Jane Eyre. I felt like the chemistry between Jane and Mr. Rochester was palpable and I never felt that way with Lucy and either of her love interests. I also couldn’t connect with the all-encompassing loneliness that plagued Lucy. I think it’s unfair to judge this book entirely in comparison to Jane Eyre, but I can’t help myself. I couldn’t seem to stop.
I think Villette really embodied the pain Charlotte was going through at that time. It was the last novel she completed and at that point all of her sisters had died. She was alone and heartbroken and that darkness seeped into her writing.
SPOILERS
The ending totally took me by surprise. I know some people say it’s ambiguous, but to me it was pretty clear (maybe that makes me pessimistic). I couldn’t help thinking WTF on that last page. It’s not that the writing wasn’t beautiful or fitting, but still I felt like I was punched in the stomach. I wanted Lucy to have a bit of happiness in the second half of her life and I felt like she was so close but never quite got it. Her happiest years were those anticipating the life she was never able to have with M. Paul Emanuel; that broke my heart.
SPOILERS OVER
BOTTOM LINE: It’s a must for anyone who loves the Bronte sisters or Victorian classics. It didn’t trump Jane Eyre as my personal favorite, but it’s a more challenging book in many ways and one that I know I’ll reread in the future.
“If there are words and wrongs like knives, whose deep-inflicted lacerations never heal-cutting injuries and insults of serrated and poison-dripping edge-so, too, there are consolations of tone too fine for the ear not fondly and for ever to retain their echo; caressing kindnesses-loved, lingered over through a whole life, recalled with unfaded tenderness, and answering the call with undimmed shine, out of that raven cloud foreshadowing Death himself.”
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Beck and her nephew the cranky professor M. Paul Emanuel, the insufferable coquette Ginerva Fanshawe and more. This novel is famous in literary circles because of the illusive heroine. Lucy keeps secret from the reader and never lets us completely into her world. There’s so much we don’t know about her and at times that can be frustrating, but I do love her acerbic nature. She’s often short or condescending; she sometimes calls people out on their bad choices in love or challenges them in other ways. Lucy is beyond interesting. I also love the fact that her job is important to her and that throughout the book the pursuit of education is valued.
Lucy’s character reminds me so much of Esther from Bleak House. I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that I read both books in the same year, but it’s not just that. Both women are quiet and reserved, never giving the reader a complete picture of who they are. Both are instrumental in getting to close friends together, both fall for someone, but assume they can’t ever be together for one reason or another. I just kept having flashbacks. I checked the dates and the books were actually published in the same year, though Dickens’ was serialized the year before. I doubt either author was aware of the other’s novel when they were writing their own.
In so many ways I can understand why Villette is considered Charlotte’s masterpiece. The characters and their relationships are much more complicated and the tone is much darker. I also think the writing is exquisite, even better than in her earlier work. Villette really was way ahead of its time. But I will also say it didn’t impact me in the same way that Jane Eyre did and I think a big part of that is my own personality.
Most of the people I know who have loved Villette more than Jane Eyre identify with Lucy in a very personal way. They are usually quieter, more introspective and reserved and that’s just not me. I’m a bit of a chatterbox and I tend to be incredibly social. I do love being at home alone and curling up with a good book, but I like being out and about with my friends just as much. So it was harder for me to connect with Lucy. It’s not that Jane Eyre is Miss Social Butterfly, but she does stand up for herself and she’s a bit of a rebel. I love her open dialogue with the reader. I felt like I knew her in a way that I never did with Lucy.
I missed the humor you find in Jane Eyre. I felt like the chemistry between Jane and Mr. Rochester was palpable and I never felt that way with Lucy and either of her love interests. I also couldn’t connect with the all-encompassing loneliness that plagued Lucy. I think it’s unfair to judge this book entirely in comparison to Jane Eyre, but I can’t help myself. I couldn’t seem to stop.
I think Villette really embodied the pain Charlotte was going through at that time. It was the last novel she completed and at that point all of her sisters had died. She was alone and heartbroken and that darkness seeped into her writing.
SPOILERS
The ending totally took me by surprise. I know some people say it’s ambiguous, but to me it was pretty clear (maybe that makes me pessimistic). I couldn’t help thinking WTF on that last page. It’s not that the writing wasn’t beautiful or fitting, but still I felt like I was punched in the stomach. I wanted Lucy to have a bit of happiness in the second half of her life and I felt like she was so close but never quite got it. Her happiest years were those anticipating the life she was never able to have with M. Paul Emanuel; that broke my heart.
SPOILERS OVER
BOTTOM LINE: It’s a must for anyone who loves the Bronte sisters or Victorian classics. It didn’t trump Jane Eyre as my personal favorite, but it’s a more challenging book in many ways and one that I know I’ll reread in the future.
“If there are words and wrongs like knives, whose deep-inflicted lacerations never heal-cutting injuries and insults of serrated and poison-dripping edge-so, too, there are consolations of tone too fine for the ear not fondly and for ever to retain their echo; caressing kindnesses-loved, lingered over through a whole life, recalled with unfaded tenderness, and answering the call with undimmed shine, out of that raven cloud foreshadowing Death himself.”
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LibraryThing member reichec
After a copy appeared on my shelves (I'm sure without specific intent on my part), I decided to read Villette as part of the '1001 Project'. Mostly I don't regret the often seemingly interminable effort, but it was rarely enjoyable.
Charlotte Bronte and her sisters were masters of melodrama.
The narrator is sullen, passive, taciturn and uninteresting. The only thing more unlikely than Lucy Snowe falling for the pompous and emotionally unstable M. Paul Emanuel is that he should fall for her. In fact, none of the characters we encounter are in any way endearing. Perhaps Dr John has noble qualities, but his obsession with the flaky and manipulative Ginevra Fanshawe (surely one of the most blatantly contrived names in English literature) is reprehensible and unforgiveable.
However, the novel is rescued from total derision by the rich and sparkling language: "On summer mornings I used to rise early, to enjoy them alone; on summer evenings, to linger solitary, to keep tryst with the rising moon, or taste one kiss of the evening breeze, or fancy rather than feel the freshness of dew descending", or "I held in my hand a morsel of real solid joy : not a dream, not an image of the brain, not one of those shadowy chances imagination pictures, and on which humanity starves but cannot live". It is rare delights such as these that make the book worth persevering with. Almost.
Charlotte Bronte and her sisters were masters of melodrama.
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Villette is a clear example. Haworth in Yorkshire (where the Brontes spent many of their formative years) is a bleak and uninspiring place, so it's no surprise that the girls turned out to be sociopathic and self-absorbed. This is apparent in the pages of Villette, which is reportedly thinly-veiled autobiography.The narrator is sullen, passive, taciturn and uninteresting. The only thing more unlikely than Lucy Snowe falling for the pompous and emotionally unstable M. Paul Emanuel is that he should fall for her. In fact, none of the characters we encounter are in any way endearing. Perhaps Dr John has noble qualities, but his obsession with the flaky and manipulative Ginevra Fanshawe (surely one of the most blatantly contrived names in English literature) is reprehensible and unforgiveable.
However, the novel is rescued from total derision by the rich and sparkling language: "On summer mornings I used to rise early, to enjoy them alone; on summer evenings, to linger solitary, to keep tryst with the rising moon, or taste one kiss of the evening breeze, or fancy rather than feel the freshness of dew descending", or "I held in my hand a morsel of real solid joy : not a dream, not an image of the brain, not one of those shadowy chances imagination pictures, and on which humanity starves but cannot live". It is rare delights such as these that make the book worth persevering with. Almost.
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LibraryThing member MickyFine
Due to the vagaries of life, Lucy Snowe, at the age of 23, leaves England ends up in the small town of Villette where she takes up a position as a teacher in a school. There she must deal with the precocious pupils, the headmistress with a tendency to spy on everyone in her purview, and her complex
Villette is a study in patience both for Lucy and the reader. Lucy's existence and the multitude of plights she deals with are rather dull and Lucy as a character is rather unsympathetic. Although she is the narrative voice, she doesn't truly appear in the narrative at the outset, with the focus given rather to supporting characters. Thus is the trend set in place of supporting characters being far more interesting than Lucy, who while an upstanding individual isn't compelling in her own right and tends towards being irritating with her frequent soliloquies on the nature of her solitary life and its hardships. The descriptive and more literary passages are longer than necessary with descriptive phrases always coming in sets of three when a single one would be far more effective. While exploring the experience of a young woman teaching abroad, the narrative has no overarching major plot and seems like Lucy to drift slowly from one point to another. Intriguing as being the most autobiographical of Charlotte Bronte's novels, it remains a very poor cousin of the far more brilliant work that is Jane Eyre.
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feelings for young Dr John and one of the professors at the school, M. Paul Emmanuel.Villette is a study in patience both for Lucy and the reader. Lucy's existence and the multitude of plights she deals with are rather dull and Lucy as a character is rather unsympathetic. Although she is the narrative voice, she doesn't truly appear in the narrative at the outset, with the focus given rather to supporting characters. Thus is the trend set in place of supporting characters being far more interesting than Lucy, who while an upstanding individual isn't compelling in her own right and tends towards being irritating with her frequent soliloquies on the nature of her solitary life and its hardships. The descriptive and more literary passages are longer than necessary with descriptive phrases always coming in sets of three when a single one would be far more effective. While exploring the experience of a young woman teaching abroad, the narrative has no overarching major plot and seems like Lucy to drift slowly from one point to another. Intriguing as being the most autobiographical of Charlotte Bronte's novels, it remains a very poor cousin of the far more brilliant work that is Jane Eyre.
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LibraryThing member ctpress
A few thoughts:
- Villette didn’t capture my imagination as either [Shirley] or [Jane Eyre].
- I never really warmed up to the heroine Lucy Snowe (no pun intended) - she fascinated me, but not enough.
- Liked the gothic elements which created an eerie feeling throughout the novel - the appearence of
- Liked also the descriptions of Lucy’s loneliness and despair and her deliberate attempts to be an independent free spirit.
- Villette didn’t capture my imagination as either [Shirley] or [Jane Eyre].
- I never really warmed up to the heroine Lucy Snowe (no pun intended) - she fascinated me, but not enough.
- Liked the gothic elements which created an eerie feeling throughout the novel - the appearence of
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a ghost - a white nun….- Liked also the descriptions of Lucy’s loneliness and despair and her deliberate attempts to be an independent free spirit.
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LibraryThing member ElizabethPotter
The first time I read this book I was seventeen. Frankly I was disappointed then. I had such high expectations because some people had said that it was better than _Jane Eyre_. It was dark and at that time I was struggling with depression, so the summer vacation chapter affected me severely. Lucy
A year ago I decided to read it again from a more intellectual standpoint. I loved it.I was swept away. I could now understand Lucy. While she was quiet she was certainly passionate, but I was too young to see it the first time. I feel for Lucy. Brontë's was much more subtle in this work. It was now fun to watch her. I can never love Lucy as I love Jane, but I like her and can understand her. At seventeen I was not mature enough to appriecate _Villette_. This book speaks to the more mature reader. So you young-Jane-obsessed things, wait. Wait on _Villette_ if you can. She will have much to say to you in just a few years.
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was also so cold. I couldn't like her or understand her. Also not a whole lot seemed to happen. It seemed anti-climactic.A year ago I decided to read it again from a more intellectual standpoint. I loved it.I was swept away. I could now understand Lucy. While she was quiet she was certainly passionate, but I was too young to see it the first time. I feel for Lucy. Brontë's was much more subtle in this work. It was now fun to watch her. I can never love Lucy as I love Jane, but I like her and can understand her. At seventeen I was not mature enough to appriecate _Villette_. This book speaks to the more mature reader. So you young-Jane-obsessed things, wait. Wait on _Villette_ if you can. She will have much to say to you in just a few years.
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LibraryThing member AbigailAdams26
Considered Charlotte Brontë's most autobiographical novel, Villette follows the story of Lucy Snow, perhaps one of the most self-contained heroines in all of nineteenth-century literature. Penniless and alone in the world, Lucy pursues her fortune abroad, teaching at a girls' school in the French
Readers expecting something more along the lines of Jane Eyre, with its strong narrative flow, will be somewhat disappointed, I believe. Villette is a far more cerebral text, less plot-driven than is it character-centric. This has both advantages and disadvantages, in that it allows Brontë to plumb the psychological depths of her heroine in a way not seen in her earlier work, but also causes the story to drag somewhat, especially in the middle sections.
Highly principled, somewhat prejudiced, and terribly lonely, Lucy Snow has always struck me as a flawed, more human version of Jane Eyre. Or perhaps it might be more accurate to say that she is what Jane would be, in the absence of hope. Her unrequited (possibly?) love for M. Paul, who is himself a deeply flawed individual, has something of the strength of despair in it at times, and the novel in general has a darker tone.
As an aside, I should mention that Villette has numerous, and sometimes extensive, passages in French. The reader who is unacquainted with that language would do well to obtain a version in which translations are given in the rear notes.
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city of Villette. Her experiences there, her encounters with both her fellow countrymen and the French natives of the city in which she has settled, and the relations she forms with her colleagues and students, are all chronicled in this gradually unfolding character study.Readers expecting something more along the lines of Jane Eyre, with its strong narrative flow, will be somewhat disappointed, I believe. Villette is a far more cerebral text, less plot-driven than is it character-centric. This has both advantages and disadvantages, in that it allows Brontë to plumb the psychological depths of her heroine in a way not seen in her earlier work, but also causes the story to drag somewhat, especially in the middle sections.
Highly principled, somewhat prejudiced, and terribly lonely, Lucy Snow has always struck me as a flawed, more human version of Jane Eyre. Or perhaps it might be more accurate to say that she is what Jane would be, in the absence of hope. Her unrequited (possibly?) love for M. Paul, who is himself a deeply flawed individual, has something of the strength of despair in it at times, and the novel in general has a darker tone.
As an aside, I should mention that Villette has numerous, and sometimes extensive, passages in French. The reader who is unacquainted with that language would do well to obtain a version in which translations are given in the rear notes.
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LibraryThing member Ginnywoolf
Look, Virginia Woolf called it Bronte's "finest novel," and George Eliot wrote, "Villette! Villette! Have you read it? It is a still more wonderful book than Jane Eyre. There is something almost preternatural in its power." I couldn't agree more. I was fortunate enough to read this is the first
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English course to get me hooked on 19th century British lit. We read it over the course of three weeks, so it was the perfect way to digest the magic of Villette. A love story that is far more rewarding than that of Jane Eyre (which I also love), Villette is a treasure. Show Less
LibraryThing member keristars
This was a difficult book to read, though I did enjoy it - it's Brontë's writing style that makes it tough. But the subject matter and themes are also a bit dense and hard-going, and this novel won't appeal to most people, I imagine.
The story is based loosely on Brontë's own experiences in
Ultimately, I'd say that Vilette is like Jane Eyre squared, and a good deal more interesting for it. But even so, it was difficult to read and rather long, and I prefer Jane to Lucy. The final statements of each book are nearly the same, in any case: for the heroines to thrive, they must have the power and control in their lives (ie: Jane must be Rochester's caretaker, Lucy must become her own mistress).
The story is based loosely on Brontë's own experiences in
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Belgium, and there are striking similarities to her previous and well-known work Jane Eyre. Lucy Snow in Vilette is also reserved, an orphan, and someone who prefers to watch rather than participate in the world. But even while she observes the people around her, she is being observed, making this a great book for fans of the Gaze in literary theory & criticism. Ultimately, I'd say that Vilette is like Jane Eyre squared, and a good deal more interesting for it. But even so, it was difficult to read and rather long, and I prefer Jane to Lucy. The final statements of each book are nearly the same, in any case: for the heroines to thrive, they must have the power and control in their lives (ie: Jane must be Rochester's caretaker, Lucy must become her own mistress).
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LibraryThing member juliette07
This was an excellent read and it was extremely useful to have the references and background information. I read it alongside the BBC adaptation which was an equally excellent adaptation. Set in 1853 with Lucy Snow as the central character we follow her life and learn of her passion, her love and
In many ways I felt she was a lady way ahead of her times - along with the setting in both France and Belgium and the education theme this was always going to be a pleasure for me. I was not disappointed and thoroughly recommend this wonderful work.
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life. So often the prose propelled me to re-read and savour a section time and again as we gained further insights into the character. I loved the reflective writing as we read of how Lucy muses "I shall share no man's or woman's life in this world, as you understand sharing. I think I have one friend of my own, but am not sure; and till I am sure, I live solitary." "But solitude is sadness." "Yes; it is sadness. Life, however, has worse than that. Deeper than melancholy, lies heartbreak."In many ways I felt she was a lady way ahead of her times - along with the setting in both France and Belgium and the education theme this was always going to be a pleasure for me. I was not disappointed and thoroughly recommend this wonderful work.
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LibraryThing member jannief
Wow - this book took me forever to read. I admire Charlotte Bronte's writing style, her word choices are wonderful. However, the story itself wasn't nearly as interesting as the back cover described. This is a semi-autobiographical book of Charlotte's life when she lived in Belgium. What a sad and
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lonely life it must have been. Lucy Snowe was the main character in this story and it starts when she was young (around 10) and living in England. The majority of the rest of the book takes place in the city of Villette where she serves as a teacher in a girls school. She meets up with people from her childhood and their company gives her some sort of small social life. Otherwise most of her time is spent at the school. There she meets and falls in love with an eccentric professor. This book is not nearly as enjoyable as "Jane Eyre" but I'm glad I read it. But I did find it quite tedious in many parts. Show Less
LibraryThing member JBD1
Well this is a weird one. Very interesting to read, for sure, but a profoundly strange book, and as powerful a fictional adaptation of loneliness as I can remember reading.
Subjects
Language
Original language
English
Original publication date
1853-01
Physical description
592 p.; 7.5 inches
ISBN
0192839640 / 9780192839640