This is the sexiest novel of all time. You’re screwing up your face right now, I can tell. It is though, it’s sexy as fuck. People often want to tell you that Henry James’ greatest flaw was his lack of passion. Nabokov, if I recall correctly, labelled his work blonde. I don’t think he meant that in the way that modern readers would understand it i.e. as a synonym for dumb, but rather as one for bland. Katherine Mansfield once said of E.M. Forster that he was like a lukewarm teapot [ha!], and that description also seems to nicely sum up the prevailing attitude towards James. It’s wrong though, that attitude; I’ve read numerous Henry James novels and I am of the opinion that he was a firecracker, a sexual viper.

Read the first 100 pages of Portrait of a Lady and then try and convince me that the male characters don’t all want to bash Isabel’s doors in; and that she, likewise, wants them to, or enjoys giving the impression that she wants them to. You won’t succeed. I’m serious. If you can’t see it then I conclude that you can’t recognise extreme sexual tension when it’s under your nose. The flirting is outrageous! You might think all this is cute, like 'oh [P]’s being theatrical.' I say again: I’m serious. It’s not as though I consider all so-called button-down and stuffy lit to be, in reality, hot shit; I mean, I’ve never claimed that Pride & Prejudice is really all about rimjobs and teabagging. There’s something about Henry James’ work, and this novel in particular, that seethes, writhes with unspoken frustration and desire. James’ art, the one thing that makes him stand out for me, is in how he somehow suggests, hints, implies but never outright tells you the juiciest bits of his story. It’s pretty magical really. I don’t know how to explain it; there’s a whole world beneath the surface of his work. In Portrait of a Lady I believe that world to be a sexual one. Why do all the male characters fall for Isabel? Because she is charming and pretty? Is she really all that? No, it’s because she gives the impression of being up for it; she’s, to put it more politely, sensual. She has great sex appeal, which is why she was not right for Lord Warburton, who is a bit of a sop and would make a conventional woman of her; by conventional I do not mean that he will not allow her to be herself, that he wishes to clip her emotional and intellectual wings, but that the match he is offering is conventional i.e. he is rich and handsome and terribly nice, and only a fool would turn him down.

Some people say that Portrait of a Lady is about freedom, and I agree, it is. But I think that involves sexual freedom also, although, of course, as stated, that is not made explicit. There’s a lot written in the beginning of the novel about Isabel’s independent spirit, about how she does not want to be tied down. Before she takes up with Gilbert Osmond the novel is strongly feminist in tone. This is because Isabel regards marriage as an impediment to her freedom, she rejects marriage [literally, she receives two proposals early on] as a barrier to her gaining experience [what kind of experience, huh? Huh?] and knowledge of the world. However, I would argue [as I am sure many would argue to the contrary] that the second half of the book, and by extension the whole book obviously, is feminist, because Isabel makes her choice, the one to marry Osmond, freely. It does not matter that it may be a bad choice, the important thing is that she rejected more beneficial matches in favour of the one that most pleased her. In fact Isabel says at one stage ‘to judge wrong is more honourable than to not judge at all.’

Isabel is one of the most fascinating characters I have ever encountered, because she is so extraordinarily complex, complex in a way that fictional people seldom are. She is strong-willed, arrogant, and yet thoroughly nice; she is perceptive and yet makes poor choices; she is warm and charming and yet sometimes stunningly cold. Indeed, her rejections of Lord Warburton are flawless examples of smiling iciness, of jovial dismissiveness. Isabel falls for Gilbert Osmond, to my mind, partly because he does not mindlessly adore her, does not fawn over her. He is mysterious, indolent; there is the hint of a darker side. He appears to be tired of everything, bored of everything, and so that he is interested in Isabel seems like a huge coup; it speaks to her ego. It’s pretty straightforward psychology to want most the thing that appears to be able to live without you with the least trouble. Isabel also credits herself with an original intelligence, therefore one could perhaps say that she likes Osmond, sees something great in him, precisely because others do not. However, the irony, the tragedy of their union is that Osmond is himself utterly conventional and tries to force Isabel to be so; Osmond, out of an anti-conventionality sentiment, demands that she be the most conventional wife.

Madame Merle, who first earmarks Isabel for Osmond, is often regarded as one of literature’s great villains, which is not really the case, because James’ novels don’t contain true villains. Having said that, however, there is something vile about her, despite her never really doing anything to deserve the charge. It’s James’ great art again; he makes Madame Merle a masterpiece of quiet menace. 'You are dangerous,' the Countess Gemini declares, as they chat together about the prospect of Osmond and Isabel uniting, and you quite well believe it, even without the accompanying evidence. Her entrance into the novel, her unannounced [to Isabel] presence in the Touchett’s home is strangely chilling. She is first encountered, sat with her back to Isabel, playing the piano; she strikes you as almost girlish, initially, despite her age. It made me shudder, and I don’t think I can express why that is. Ralph describes his aversion to her as being due to her having no 'black specks', no faults, and one understands that what he means by this is that only bad people appear to be perfectly good.

If Portrait of a Lady does not have a true villain, in the Dickensian sense of that word, it does at least have someone who it is very easy to hate [which is, of course, not quite the same thing]. As Isabel herself admits, Gilbert Osmond does not do a hell of a lot wrong – he does not beat her, for example – but there is certainly something disquieting about him, something not right. One only has to look to how he treats his daughter Pansy; he sees her as a kind of doll, one that is absolutely submissive to his will. She is entirely artless, which is interesting because Osmond approaches her like a work of art, as something that he has created, has formed out of his imagination; it is not a coincidence that Osmond is both an artist and a collector [he creates Pansy; he collects Isabel]. Pansy is, for me anyway, a little creepy; she is so in the way that dolls themselves are, in that they give the impression of being human, of being alive, and yet are lifeless. It is fair to say that while he may not be a wife-beater, Osmond’s attitudes towards women are suspect; he is a kind of passive-aggressive bully, a subtle misogynist.

Amongst other things Portrait of a Lady is a classic bad marriage[s] novel. The earliest indication of this is the relationship between Isabel’s Aunt and Uncle; the Uncle lives in England, and the Aunt in Florence. What kind of a marriage is that? Then there is, of course, Isabel and Gilbert. Isabel, as stated, marries Osmond, I believe, because she thrills to think that such a man might pay court to her, might be interested in her, when he takes so little interest in the world at large; she finds his attitude heroic, and his interest in her, therefore, as a boon to her sense of self-worth. Osmond, on the other hand, sees in her something that will do him credit, both financially and socially. He appreciates her, for all that she will benefit him, rather than truly loves her. This appreciation does involve admiring certain qualities she possesses, but he wants those qualities to work on other people, not on himself; for himself he would like her to be another Pansy [i.e. entirely submissive] and appears to think he can train her to be so. He enters the marriage, in a way that a lot of people do even now, believing that he can smooth her rough edges, make her perfect for him, instead of accepting and cherishing what she is. Finally, there is the courting of Pansy by Rosier and Warburton; Warburton as a Lord is, obviously, favoured by the girl’s father, but Pansy does not love him, she loves Rosier. While I won’t give away the outcome of this little love triangle, what is most interesting about it is that it again raises the question of whether one should marry to make the best match, or for love; should one use one’s head or heart when making the decision? Isabel used her heart, and came a cropper, but perhaps that was still for the best; it is better to choose with your heart and fail, than to choose with your head and benefit from it.

Thoughts soon.

I'm not sure why it took Henry James 3x as many pages to tell a very similar story here to the one he told in Washington Square. Basically: give a woman her freedom and she will choose poorly.

Another entry into my classsic Insomnia Series. I was interested in the first half of this looooong book, when the lady in question is young, vibrant and well, interesting. The second half, when she gets married to the wrong man, is a real snoozer. Mission accomplished.

??? 2000s: this was the ‘middle’ i read of 3 henry james i read one summer several years ago, though it is known as late 'early'. : 'early' The American, The Portrait of a Lady , and 'late' The Ambassadors i remember how impressed i was by the creation of isabel archer, how alive she seemed, how good, kind, smart- basically wonderful- and how annoying i found her pyrrhic victory at the end. she is one of the few women characters i have read whom i could believe being in love with. she is just that real, that good, though i do not know how much the effect was by james’ writing, and how much was the complex character imagined. i never felt i knew what she would do, she was not a plot function, a cliche, a stereotype. i could recognize the consistency of her sacrifice for the love of the girl pansy, even facing osmond…

i detested osmond but perhaps was more against madame merle for making him seem better than he was. i also read the interesting essay of this edition which explained how henry james had deliberately created a strong woman who was unique in letters of that era, in that she is not destroyed for presuming to have her own life and desires. the comparisons were with anna karenina and emma bovary. good critical work. great book...

best thing for a portrait to be of

The Portrait of a Lady surprised me. I haven't enjoyed James' books in the past but I absolutely loved this. Complex characters, witty dialogue and dense but lyrical writing style. It definitely has some dense parts that I struggled with but I was amazed by the dialogue and the character development. One star is knocked off because I wasn't as emotionally invested with the ending as I hoped I would be.

Ugh.


If I could describe this book in one word it would be "Laborious."

If I were allowed more space, which apparently I am, I would go on to say that in addition to being deathly slow and horrifically boring it is also a little brilliant, a little impressive, and, if you have the patience to look for it, more than a little interesting.

There's a LOT in here. James wanted this novel to be the antidote to the Jane Austen romance. He wanted to show life as it is- money as a burden, marriage as a trap, and people as egotistic, petty, manipulative, and kind.

If I told you how disappointing the ending is, though, you wouldn't want to read it, so I won't mention that.

If you have the patience, it's worth reading, but not unless you read it closely. I recommend a Norton Critical Edition.

This is the first major work by James that I have read. It reflects a number of James’s preoccupations, freedom, betrayal, responsibility, destiny and the contrasts between the old world and the new (with the new coming off worse).
The central character in the book is the lady in question Isabel Archer, an American who comes to Europe at the invite of her aunt who lives in England. The novel is set in England and Italy. Inevitably it is beautifully written with lots of interiority and reflection. I don’t propose to detail the plot although it appears to be mostly about who Isabel is going to marry and how, when she does, it all goes horribly wrong. Like many books of that time (1881) it concerns “the woman question”. James wrote this in reaction to Middlemarch saying he wanted his works to have “less brain than Middlemarch, but they are to have more form”. James also writes about the upper classes pretty much exclusively. (Unlike Eliot).
I really didn’t like this and I am aware that I am in a minority as this novel appears to be well loved. It felt to me like James was saying that women like Isabel Archer could not be trusted to make decisions about who they should marry as they were bound to make poor choices. Of course, having made those choices they were bound to stick with them. Here is Isabel reflecting near the end:
“She had a husband in a foreign city, counting the hours of her absence; in such a case one needed an excellent motive. He was not one of the best husbands, but that didn’t alter the case. Certain obligations were involved in the very fact of marriage, and were quite independent of the quality of enjoyment extracted from it.”
Of the men Isabel had to choose from, and there were a few, she rejects the one who loves her passionately, she rejects position and opts for someone who is cruel and abusive. What she doesn’t do is opt to stay unmarried even though that is the position she starts from. There is a disconnect between the initial characterisation and behaviour. James also portrays Isabel as passive and essentially a parasite. She is left money and she does nothing with it. She doesn’t get involved in anything political (suffrage for example) and doesn’t seem to pursue any intellectual pursuits, she seems to be an empty shell. I could go on. I beginning to think I might even prefer Dickens to James!

An Independent Woman
24 October 2015

tWell, I have to say that I finished this book the day after Back to the Future Day (which is probably not the best way to have celebrated that day, though it was quite interesting to note that my Facebook feed was flooded with news stories of how Marty McFly was arrested in multiple locations). In fact I probably wasted that day because I ended up going to work, and when I got home I didn't watch the Back to the Future Trilogy (though I suspect it would have been impossible to get at any of the video stores that still happen to exist – I don't have Netflix) but rather spent my time writing blog posts. Anyway, we are going to be talking about this book at bookclub on Sunday, and I had left it a little too late to read anything else.

tAnyway, here is a portrait of a lady:



tand another one:



t(I hope posting a picture on Goodreads isn't considered a commercial use, but then again I'm not making any money off of this post, though Amazon probably is), and another one:



tActually, I could probably go on ad-infinitum (and that is with pictures that don't show certain bodyparts) though I'm sure after three people are probably going to start to get a bit sick of this. While I could say a few things about portraits (and how I tend to find them pretty boring) I will refer you to my travel blog (as opposed to my philosophy blog, though I can't help but write such things in my travel blog as well) where I write about my experience at the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Instead I will write a few things about this particular novel.

tAnyway, I have to say that I am not a huge fan of 19th Century Romanticism namely because the novels tend to be long, boring, mainly about women who spend the entire time crying 'oh woah is me, I can't find myself a husband so I will marry this absolute creep', and then come to an end. Oh, they are also incredibly verbose in that almost every detail about the scene is intricately described. So, when my Mum handed this book to me saying 'you should read this, every detail about the scenes are intricately described' I politely smiled, and proceeded to put it on my 'may get to one day in the future' bookshelf and promptly forgot about it until my bookclub decided to make it the October read.

tSo, the question is, have you ever met one of those really amazing women that seem to be really intelligent, and incredibly capable, and is simply not interested in you (I'm sure there is a male version, but since I'm a heterosexual male I'll won't try to speculate on what I simply can never know)? Well, this book is about one of those women. Mind you, in my time wandering around this Earth I have quickly come to discover that those type of women tend not to be worth it, though it is clear that poor Goodwood doesn't actually wake up to this fact because even though Isabel always rebuffs him, he just doesn't seem to get the picture.

tI think I have jumped a bit ahead of myself though. Portrait of a Lady is basically what the title of the book says it is about – it is the story of a lady named Isabel, and the portrait aspect comes out because James goes to great length to give her as deep and complex a character as possible. Basically she comes to England from America, meets a couple of people, but isn't interested in settling down just yet because she 'wants to see Europe' (I'm sure many of us hopeless romantics have recieved similar excuses, though funnily enough I'm now the one spurting out such rubbish). Anyway, she gets to see Europe, meets another man, marries him, and discovers that he is an absolute prick. However when she returns to England (without him knowing) she discovers that Goodwood is still in love with her, and wants her to divorce this cretin. She doesn't, and then the book ends. So much for a happy ending (but then again 19th Century Romanticism, especially in the vein of Flaubert, as this book is written, generally don't have happy endings).

tI guess it once again raises the question as to why women like Isabel always seem to end up with the creeps, and also why they continue to stick with the creeps. I suspect because of her character. We are made aware that she has this strong independent streak, and to be honest with you such a person is simply not going to be interested in a hopeless romantic. Sure they may be really nice people, but the thing is that Isabel isn't interested in a nice person – they're boring. She is interested in, well, an interesting person – it's just a shame that this really interesting person is a real jerk. However, as one friend pointed out to me once, the fact that she won't leave him has little to do with a sense of loyalty, or even with the fear of being alone, but more to do with the bond that she has formed with him. He suggested that this bond is actually a really strong bond, one doesn't necessarily equate to loyalty, or a fear of being alone, but rather a spiritual bond that ties people to others (though I won't necessarily say together because this bond does have a nasty habit of working only one way).

tAnyway, I'll finish off here and simply say that as I suspected, this wasn't really one of those books that interested me all that much, though I have discovered that they are actually really easy to speed read, namely because they happen to be incredibly verbose, and go into details that we really don't need.

Wyborny mistrz amerykańskiej prozy – Henry James ze swoją najlepszą powieścią, bez dwóch zdań.

Portret damy, portret kobiety drugiej połowy XIX wieku. Majętnej i młodej, zabezpieczonej i niezależnej. Kobiety, która wpada w sidła mężczyzny, który chce zdusić jej wolność. Henry James niczym największy feminista swoich czasów, czujny obserwator ludzkich relacji po obu stronach oceanu, kreuje bohaterkę, która popełnia fatalną decyzję. Inteligentną, oczytaną, pełną życia, która z podmiotu przekształca się w przedmiot, akcesorium swojego wyrafinowanego męża. I świadoma jest konsekwencji swoich wyborów. Ba, ona celowo godzi się na swój los, by wypełnić społeczną rolę. Cała ta powieść zresztą bada paradoks wolności i ograniczeń społecznych. Jakie to jest mocne! I wciąż w jakiś sposób aktualne, a minęło przecież ponad sto lat!

Henry James – taki celny, taki elegancki, nie potrafi oprzeć się, by dorzucić przejmujący komentarz społeczny. Dżentelmen amerykańskiej prozy, który z biegiem lat odrzucił Stany Zjednoczone na rzecz swoich europejskich korzeni. Obserwator natury ludzkiej, który nigdy się nie ożenił, a jego dziećmi stało się ponad sto książek, które napisał. Jego „Portret damy” to dzieło wybitne i nieśmiertelne, jak tylko klasyka potrafi być nieśmiertelna. Kolejna powieść spod jego pióra (przypominam „W kleszczach lęku”), która nadal jest szeroko analizowana i dyskutowana. To jedna z pierwszych powieści psychologicznych, w której czuć już ducha nadchodzącego modernizmu – tego ducha dobrze oddaje zresztą ekranizacja. Powieść, która okazała się też punktem zwrotnym w karierze Jamesa, dzisiaj uznana za najlepszą w obszernej twórczości pisarza. I nie ma w tym żadnej przesady.

"Ci sono delusioni che durano quanto la vita"

"Ritratto di signora" è il capolavoro di Henry James, scritto intorno al 1880. Inizio parlando dei i lati negativi, così mi tolgo subito il dente.

Il libro, indubbiamente quasi statico nelle prime 150 pagine (che fatica, due caffè ogni mezz'ora per stare sveglio), descrive le vicende di un gruppo di ricchi americani aristocratici in Europa. Chi incontrano? Solo americani, ovunque vadano, che sia Inghilterra, Francia o Italia. I pochi indigeni vengono tediati ripetutamente (che tatto, santo cielo!) con dettagliate spiegazioni di quanto gli americani sian migliori degli europei.

Sport di questi aristocratici nullafacenti spocchiosi e snob (più cafoni dei peggiori camalli del porto) è chiedere in sposa ragazze (americane, ovviamente) appena conosciute. Dopo un paio di passeggiate nel parco, zac, via con la dichiarazione.

In questo simpatico ambiente spicca Isabel, la protagonista, intelligente e bella. Che vince però pure il premio antipatia, staccando di gran lunga tutti i concorrenti. Ma c'è una giustizia, a questo mondo...

Ok, mi sono sfogato (ma la prima parte è proprio pesante da digerire...).

Vediamo invece perché il libro, nonostante quanto detto, mi è piaciuto molto.

Innanzitutto la scrittura, allusiva, ironica e fluida; James è un grandissimo narratore che intreccia, anticipa, guida, confonde, sorprende. James ci convince di qualcosa per poi negarcela successivamente. Rimaniamo quindi sospettosi per tutta la durata del libro, pensando a possibili sviluppi o ribaltamenti.

Il personaggio principale è Isabel, intelligente e determinata, anticipatrice del femminismo odierno. La sua originalità risiede nella sua estrema libertà che, complice una eredità inaspettata ma assai gradita che ne eleva lo status sociale, si pone nelle condizioni di pilotare a suo piacimento la propria esistenza. In realtà la sua autonomia di giudizio, la sua facoltà di scelta, la sua indipendenza, la sua libertà cessano nel momento in cui decide di intraprendere il classico matrimonio sbagliato (ne esisterà uno giusto?).

"Adesso, aveva dinnanzi la luna piena, vedeva l’uomo intero. Si era mantenuta, per così dire, immobile, così da lasciargli libero il campo: eppure, malgrado questo, aveva presa una parte per il tutto."

Questo Ritratto di signora è forse è uno dei primi libri in cui viene lasciato tanto spazio alla descrizione interiore di un personaggio femminile. La trama è semplice, ma l'intreccio assolutamente no. Una ragazza libera come userà la sua libertà? Quali passi potrà compiere? Mille scelte sono possibili alla bella Isabel; che invece viene ingabbiata suo malgrado verso quella peggiore. Tra le righe, magari sbaglio, vedo in James un po' di misoginia strisciante...

Tutto qui? No, mentre ci mettiamo comodi per vedere come si evolverà la vita di Isabel in seguito a quella che pensiamo essere la scelta sbagliata, James ci spiazza e ci costringe a cambiare parere in continuazione, con una maestria notevole.

In fondo la storia di Isabel non è solo la storia di una libertà buttata via, ma piuttosto il cammino verso maturità e consapevolezza.

Come non ricordare Madame Bovary, libro di Flaubert di poco antecedente? Due protagoniste indipendenti e dal forte carattere, due matrimoni sbagliati, due modi diversi di intendere la passione e l'amore, due diversi modi di gestione del danaro. Dal punto di vista letterario, per me non c'è confronto, vince Flaubert!