For my dear friend Jeffrey Keeten: I would not have read it if it were not for you. Thanks!

Henry James’ The Portrait of a Lady touched me deeply. Since I finished this novel a few days ago, I could not seem to stop thinking about it as I tried to organize my feelings. That I was mesmerized by it, there is no doubt. So much that the search for its understanding has occupied practically all my free moments. And to fully grasp it I could not do without Henry James masterful help, so forgive me if you find I quote him too often. Oh, but this is a work in progress, so forgive me again for any inaccuracy or inconsistency.

1. The complexity of Isabel Archer
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"Millions of presumptuous girls, intelligent or not intelligent, daily affront their destiny, and what is it open to their destiny to be, at the most, that we should make an ado about it? The novel is of its very nature an ado, an ado about something, and the larger the form it takes the greater of course the ado. Therefore, consciously, that was what one was in for—for positively organising an ado about Isabel Archer."

n
Portrait of a Lady is the story of a young American woman, Isabel Archer, and her voyage of self-discovery. I loved getting into Isabel's conflicted mind, her doubts and her confidence, her wishes and her choices. I went even further and identified thoroughly with Isabel Archer. I could relate to her conflicted mind, her dreams and ultimate choices. She was a pleasure to know, because she is so extraordinarily complex, complex in a way that fictional people seldom are.

From the first we learn how Isabel valued her freedom, in a dialogue with her cousin Ralph:
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"‘Adopted me?’ The girl stared, and her blush came back to her, together with a momentary look of pain...
‘Oh no; she has not adopted me. I’m not a candidate for adoption.’
‘I beg a thousand pardons,’ Ralph murmured. ‘I meant...
‘You meant she has taken me up. Yes; she likes to take people up... but,’ she added with a certain visible eagerness of desire to be explicit, ‘I’m very fond of my liberty.’"

n
The secondary characters are there to explain Isabel Archer, as Henry James tells us “they are there, for what they are worth… the definite array of contributions to Isabel Archer’s history. I recognized them, I knew them, they were numbered pieces of my puzzle, the concrete term of my ‘plot’.”

Mrs. Touchett, her aunt, brings Isabel to Europe but is indifferent and unfeeling; Ralph is initially amused by her and helps her to inherit a fortune, only to guarantee her choices and the freedom to follow them (he probably is the only one that thoroughly loved Isabel); Madam Merle manages her meeting with Osmond and makes sure they end up married; Osmond thinks of her as one more item for his collection; Mr. Goodwood is persistent and never loses interest in her life (coming back again and again to see how she is), but seems to offer nothing more; Lord Warburton is a fair aristocratic friend to Isabel, but was he truly in love with her or merely looking for a trophy wife?; Henrietta Stackpole, is a true friend and probably an antithesis to Isabel; and Pansy, the artless creation of her husband, depends on Isabel as the only person who throughly loves her. So everyone, including the reader, look upon her, judge her decisions and contemplate as she takes each of her fateful steps into her destiny.

Oh, there is much more about Isabel, and I hope I will be able to know her better once I am finished.

2. The images and metaphors of Isabel Archer’s life

To discuss this I first I want to tell you about a recurrent dream I had for a very long time. Sometimes, I dreamed that I was walking down the corridor on my home and discovered a door I had never realized existed; deciding to explore I would open it and it led me to a new, endless row of rooms, all grand with high windows and sunny, overlooking majestic gardens that I had never observed existed before. As I opened each door amazing new discoveries were revealed to me. My feelings were of exuberance, of happiness to have discovered so much beauty inside my home. But there was a variation to these recurrent dreams, or worst, there were also nightmares. In these I also discovered new places never visited before, however they would be dark and looked nowhere. As a result of this oppressive atmosphere I used to feel like I was in an endless prison inside my own home. I rejoiced in the first and feared to revisit those nightmares.

So, when I started reading The Portrait of a Lady, it was fascinating to read how Henry James uses symbolic or metaphorical architectural spaces and places to tell us about Isabel Archer and her life. This was something I knew and it remitted directly to my dreams and my deepest self.
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"Her imagination was by habit ridiculously active; when the door was not open it jumped out of the window. She was not accustomed indeed to keep it behind bolts; and at important moments, when she would have been thankful to make use of her judgement alone, she paid the penalty of having given undue encouragement to the faculty of seeing without judging."

n
We first meet Isabel at Gardencourt,
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"Her uncle’s house seemed a picture made real; no refinement of the agreeable was lost upon Isabel; the rich perfection of Gardencourt at once revealed a world and gratified a need. The large, low rooms, the deep greenness outside, that seemed always peeping in, the sense of well-ordered privacy in the centre of a ‘property’—...much to the taste of our young lady, whose taste played a considerable part in her emotions"

n
By marrying Osmond Isabel ends up enveloped in a palace dark and suffocating:
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"She could live it over again, the incredulous terror with which she had taken the measure of her dwelling. Between those four walls she had lived ever since; they were to surround her for the rest of her life. It was the house of darkness, the house of dumbness, the house of suffocation. Osmond’s beautiful mind gave it neither light nor air; Osmond’s beautiful mind indeed seemed to peep down from a small high window and mock at her."

n
There, she seeks refuge or consolation on the ruins of Rome, for her a symbol of hope for despite their long sufferings they are still standing.
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"She had long before this taken old Rome into her confidence, for in a world of ruins the ruin of her happiness seemed a less unnatural catastrophe. She rested her weariness upon things that had crumbled for centuries and yet still were upright; she dropped her secret sadness into the silence of lonely places, so that as she sat in a sun-warmed angle on a winter’s day, she could smile at it and think of its smallness."

n
But, ultimately, she seeks refuge once more at Gardencourt.
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"All purpose, all intention, was suspended; all desire too save the single desire to reach her much-embracing refuge. Gardencourt had been her starting-point, and to those muffled chambers it was at least a temporary solution to return. She had gone forth in her strength; she would come back in her weakness, and if the place had been a rest to her before, it would be a sanctuary now."

n
3. Isabel’s choices and freedom

Isabel's ability to choose, and the choices she makes are the thread that is carefully woven throughout the novel, and it raises her stature as a fictional heroine, in my opinion, to the level of that of an Anna Karenina or an Emma Bovary. For better or for worse.
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"‘I’m not bent on a life of misery,’ said Isabel. ‘I’ve always been intensely determined to be happy, and I’ve often believed I should be. I’ve told people that. But it comes over me every now and then that I can never be happy in any extraordinary way; not by turning away, by separating myself.’
‘By separating yourself from what?’
‘From life. From the usual chances and dangers, from what most people know and suffer.’"

n
The moment Isabel inherits starts the process whereupon she loses some of her freedom…
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"There’s one remarkable clause in my husband’s will,’ Mrs Touchett added. ‘He has left my niece a fortune.’
‘A fortune!’ Madame Merle softly repeated.
‘Isabel steps into something like seventy thousand pounds.’
Madame Merle’s hands were clasped in her lap; at this she raised them, still clasped, and held them a moment against her bosom while her eyes, a little dilated... ‘Ah,’ she cried, ‘the clever creature!’"

n
And around Isabel there is always a sense of danger:
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"‘I try to care more about the world than about myself––but I always come back to myself. It’s because I’m afraid.’ She stopped; her voice had trembled a little. ‘Yes, I’m afraid; I can’t tell you. A large fortune means freedom, and I’m afraid of that. It’s such a fine thing, and one should make such a good use of it. If one shouldn’t one would be ashamed... I’m not sure it’s not a greater happiness to be powerless.’"

n
But was she really free or were her choices not as free as she dreamed? Or was it all inevitable to some degree? It seems that Isabel Archer's life was to some extend inescapable and this fact was not totally unknown to her. However, she thoroughly recongnizes how misguided she had been in her choice of husband.
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"It was as if he had had the evil eye; as if his presence were a blight and his favour a misfortune. Was the fault in himself, or only in the deep mistrust she had conceived for him? This mistrust was now the clearest result of their short married life; a gulf had opened between them over which they looked at each other with eyes that were on either side a declaration of the deception suffered."

n
Subsequentely, Isabel remains too proud to show it to the her friends. But despite all her efforts to conceal her misery, she cannot camouflage it from Ralph and Caspar:
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"‘Watching her?’
‘Trying to make out if she's happy.’
‘That's easy to make out,’ said Ralph. ‘She’s the most visibly happy woman I know.’
‘Exactly so; I’m satisfied,’ Goodwood answered dryly. For all his dryness, however, he had more to say. ‘I’ve been watching her. She pretends to be happy; that was what she undertook to be; and I thought I should like to see for myself what it amounts to. I’ve seen,’ he continued with a harsh ring in his voice, ‘and I don’t want to see any more. I’m now quite ready to go.’"

n
Sorrowful and heartbroken, that's how this passage made me feel. But she is never to be pitied, she always stands upright despite doomed adversity.

Yes, I suspect there is a sense of inevitability (what choices did she have, where her other suitors conductive of real happiness? I think not!) which could have made Isabel Archer’s into a tragedy. But she is far from it, she still has choices. Nevertheless, James’ work is not merely that. It is a reflection upon the ideal of a relative freedom and a play with its execution in a woman’s life; the actions, its struggles and the consequent decisions taken by choice. This is what James has achieved with this work; that liberty is not only an ideal but a responsibility too. Though the reader may not approve of all her choices at the end, keeping in mind the betrayal of trust brought about by Madam Merle and Osmond, they were all freely taken or the result of her own will. A will which comes not merely from the limitations imposed by society, but by a newfound maturity, result of all her suffering, and above all from the vow to remain true to oneself.

4. Henry James gives the reader plenty of room to imagine

There’s something about Henry James’ work, and here in particular, that flares, tosses back and forth with unspoken frustration and desire. James’ art, the one thing that makes him stand out for me, is in how he somehow implies, suggests, hints, but never outright tells the reader the ins and outs of his story. He even skips years, and it only adds to its enjoyment. If you want to live along with Isabel Archer, and I felt like I did, is to be conquered by infinite possibilities. Here we are not mere spectator or bystanders but may live everything along with her, if we want to. It is a hard reading that requires effort, but if we invest in it we can grasp the possibilities the whole world that exists beneath the surface of his work.

5. Her ultimate choice

Isabel falls for Gilbert Osmond, to my mind, partly because he does not mindlessly adore her, does not fawn over her. He takes his time in the courtship, he (with the help of Madame Merle) has a clear strategy and it works. He is mysterious, indolent; and there is the hint of a darker side. He appears to be tired of everything, simply bored, so Isabel feels like for once she is helping somebody. That her inheritance has a meaning, a destiny. She seems to feel recompensated and fulfilled.
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"...‘What has he ever done?’ he added abruptly.
‘That I should marry him? Nothing at all,’ Isabel replied while her patience helped itself by turning a little to hardness. ‘If he had done great things would you forgive me any better? Give me up, Mr Goodwood; I’m marrying a perfect nonentity. Don’t try to take an interest in him. You can’t.’"

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And we are not the only ones to be surprised by her choice to marry Gilbert Osmond. Ralph was appalled:
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"‘I think I’ve hardly got over my surprise,’ he went on at last. ‘You were the last person I expected to see caught.’
‘I don’t know why you call it caught.’
‘Because you’re going to be put into a cage.’
‘If I like my cage, that needn’t trouble you,’ she answered.
...‘You must have changed immensely. A year ago you valued your liberty beyond everything. You wanted only to see life.’"

n
But she still has another choice ahead of her. Her ultimate choice is whether or not to return to Osmond after she goes to Gardencourt to visit her dying cousin. Again Henry James gifts us with a superb image that could not translate better the pervading dread of what she is about to do:
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"There was a penetrating chill in the image, and she drew back into the deepest shade of Gardencourt. She lived from day to day, postponing, closing her eyes, trying not to think. She knew she must decide, but she decided nothing; her coming itself had not been a decision. On that occasion she had simply started."

n
And at last we understand her ultimate decision, although such resolution is not easily reached.
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"There were lights in the windows of the house; they shone far across the lawn. In an extraordinarily short time—for the distance was considerable—she had moved through the darkness (for she saw nothing) and reached the door. Here only she paused. She looked all about her; she listened a little; then she put her hand on the latch. She had not known where to turn; but she knew now. There was a very straight path."

n
In the end I recognized a worthier and more mature Isabel Archer, and I think that she comes out of her sufferings stronger. I would like to imagine Osmond would be surprised by her when she gets back to Rome, and that she would be able to change her standing. Their roles perhaps altered. Although there should certainly be more anguish ahead of her, given what she is going back to, I imagine there is always the possibility of happiness.
______

"Portrait of a Lady" has been gathering dust on one of my tbr shelves for years because I stupidly thought it would be a chore to read. I was so wrong! I loved it! A profound novel that is riveting and brilliant with an ending that has left my head spinning.

Un'americana in Europa
Isabel, "inquadrata nella cornice (...) della porta, colpì il giovane come un bel ritratto di signora".

Romanzo ambientato negli anni '70 dell'Ottocento fra Inghilterra e Italia, si presenta bellissimo per stile, struttura narrativa e approfondimento psicologico, tutto pervaso da quel sottile senso dell'umorismo, tanto diffuso nella letteratura inglese, ritmato sull'arte della conversazione che spesso caratterizza il romanzo britannico. Un testo per chi ama il piacere della lettura di alta qualità.
Comprendiamo come l'americano H. James apprezzasse talmente la cultura inglese da trasferirsi in Inghilterra e assumerne la nazionalità.

Chi ha letto lo splendido "The Master" di Toibin, documentato romanzo biografico dedicato a Henry James, sa come la figura della protagonista di "Ritratto di signora" sia stata ispirata dalla figura dell'amata cugina dell'autore, tanto desiderosa di viaggiare per l'Europa, sogno irrealizzato per la prematura morte in giovane età.
Lo scrittore pare abbia voluto 'risarcirla' dandole le parvenze del personaggio di Isabel, una ragazza americana che invece in Europa giunge e dove si dispiega interamente il suo futuro.

Isabel, dunque, arriva in Inghilterra accolta dalla facoltosa zia in una magnifica dimora con esteso parco.
La giovane era sempre stata considerata "l'intelletto", ma anche una persona (troppo) originale.
"Ella aveva un desiderio insaziabile di pensare bene di sé", riteneva che "fosse necessario essere fra i migliori" , "aveva una speranza infinita di non dover fare mai nulla di male" e amava molto la propria indipendenza.
Con queste premesse, non c'è da stupirsi che tutti si chiedano che cosa farà della sua vita e a quali vertici sarà capace di giungere, tanto più che H. James la rende pure ricchissima.

La vicenda si sposta poi a Firenze e a Roma, dove Isabel verrà a contatto con l'alta società degli stranieri, fra gran dame e uomini raffinati.
Il paesaggio italiano è descritto meravigliosamente, con pennellate di generosa fascinazione. Non manca però qualche stoccata : un colto straniero, imbevuto di estetismo, sostiene che "l'Italia, comunque, aveva guastato molta gente; lui stesso (...) riteneva che sarebbe stato un uomo migliore se non avesse trascorso lì tanta parte della sua vita. Faceva diventare pigri e dilettanti e mediocri; non offriva nessuna disciplina per il carattere".

L'ultima parte del libro, in particolare, presenta sviluppi di altissima abilità letteraria. 'Tutti i nodi vengono al pettine' in modo , nel contempo, inaspettato eppur convincente : ciò che solamente un grande scrittore riesce a realizzare.

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.

Todos querem casar com a Isabelinha que é rica e bonitinha...
Lord Warburton: — Isabel, quer casar comigo?
Isabel Archer: — Não. Eu quero ser independente.
Caspar Goodwood: — Isabel, case-se comigo.
Isabel Archer: — Não. Eu quero ser livre.
Ralph Touchett: — Eu gostava de me casar com a Isabel, mas não lhe vou dizer nada porque sei que ela não quer.
Gilbert Osmond: — Isabel, tem de casar comigo.
Isabel Archer: — Hum... agora que já passeei um pouco bem que podia casar...

É assim o Retrato de Uma Senhora. Quem quer casar. Quem não quer casar. Quem casa. Quem não casa. Quem queria casar e não casou. Quem casou e não gostou.
650 páginas disto...e estou a pensar que me casaria com Henry James: um chato do piorio mas extraordinariamente fascinante e envolvente.

A história não vale um caracol; as personagens (muito bem caracterizadas) são umas criaturinhas muito insípidas; o prazer da leitura reside totalmente na narrativa.

Tiro uma estrelinha para fazer dois parzinhos...


(Knut Ekwall, Proposal)

What I love about this edition is that the James expert in the introduction cites all the flaws that were so glaring to me in the beginning of the book: Ralph and his father's constantly applauding Lord Warburton for his fine conversation, the father telling Lord Warburton not to fall in love with his niece (I didn't see that coming!), one of them mentioning how amusing the other is (hahaha). It was just intolerable how heavy-handed the dialogue was. Nor did I find it cute how much of a caricature Isabel's friend, the woman journalist, was or acceptable that Mme. Merle's conversations with Isabel were "edited" by James so that the former spoke in a seeming monologue for three pages. But once the characters' choices spoke for themselves and Osmond was introduced, it did become fascinating. And from that point on, it was impossible to stop reading, however devastating it was.

A work of wonder displaying the naivete' and mistakes of youth and some Americans' missteps in life choices that were driven by gullible and romantic notions of and in Europe. The novel still feels fresh and timely.

I was driven from this novel, after beginning it a few years back, by both its bulk and by my dislike of Washington Square (see, if you will, my caustic review of both the book and the author). I am pleased to have returned to The Portrait of a Lady, so that, finally, I can appreciate the depth of character and psychological acuity of Henry James' writing.

As much as I disliked Washington Square (and was unimpressed by his novella The Beast in the Jungle), I prized this esteemed classic of fiction. I might even return a number of his novels to my TBR list.

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!

اواسط کتاب فکر میکردم خوب میشه اگه همینجا ادامه ندم چه دلیلی داره این همه طولانی شدن
و چقدر خوب که به این احساس غلبه کردم تازه بعد از تموم شدن این حس میاد سراغ ادم که زیادم طولانی نشده و انچه که باید بود.

سفر با ایزابل ،زنی که بیشتر از اینکه باهوش و زیبا باشه بقیه بهش اینو القا کردن پراز تجربه برای آموختن بود.

کاش در طول داستان در کنار بررسی بعد احساسی و ازدواج ایزابل به سفرهاش و مدیریت پول باد اورده اشاره میشد.

——دربسیاری مواقع در زندگی ما باید حاضر باشیم که هیچ کس را خشنود نکنیم، حتی خودمان را——

An odd choice while in a prolonged reading slump, but this one did the trick !

The Portrait of a Lady (as the title would suggest) is an astute rendering of the psychological life of Isabel Archer, a woman who reckons with two opposing needs: preserve her independent mind or conform to societal conventions of the 1860s.

I don’t usually read classics, but this one captured me within the first 40 pages. The observations are so intimate, I don’t think I will ever be able to say men don’t know how to write women because Henry James truly does. I am in awe of his documentary style observations of the human condition. The language is breathtaking and the characters are so well fleshed out you won’t even mind that the plot lags slightly in the middle. It’s well worth pushing through for the revelations of the last 50 pages.

I will ponder this book for a very long time.

*SPOILER ALERT* (Read at your own risk)

My first time to read a book by Henry James.

Reading The Portrait of a Lady, said to be his finest novel, is like getting your workout at a gym.

After a day’s work you are tired. You are already zapped of energy. You feel like going to a bar and have a couple of beer listening to a funky live band or the crooning of a lovely young lady. Or you want to go to a nearby mall and sit in the comfort of a dark movie house. Probably sleep to rest for a couple of hours if the movie turns out to be boring.

But you decide to go as you planned at the start of the day. Your gym bag is in your car. You drag your heavy feet to the parking lot. To the gym. You know you have to do it your friend has been telling you that Henry James is good but you imagine the taste of cold beer quenching your thirst or the soft seat inside the theater or the pretty songbird wearing a plunging neckline or showing her slim smooth legs there are quick reads waiting for you like Ray Bradbury’s Farenheit 451 or that Flowers for Argenon by Daniel Keyes. But you know your body needs exercise. You are becoming fatter, heavier and your waistline is expanding. You resisted the quick but empty lure of beer or sleep at the movie house. Your heart is telling you that Henry James is an author to read. Like a zombie, you continued sleepwalking to the gym.

After changing to your gym attire. You step on the treadmill. The solitude of working out. In the gym, you rarely talk to anyone. Henry James used a style that was distinctively his: wordy yet illuminating You are by yourself. Most of your friends don’t care about Henry James. You begin to walk. Warm up. After a couple of minutes, you increase the speed. Chug. Chug. Chug. It goes on and on. His storytelling went on and on. His characters came from New York, to England, went to Paris, then to Rome and then went back to England and finally went back to Rome. After the treadmill, you lift some weights as you also need to tone some muscles. His characters were varied. There was Isabel Archer fighting for her independence by refusing marriage proposals like there was not tomorrow but in the end she found with the wrong man: conceited, two-timer, treacherous and condescending. Some muscles are not supposed to be exercised right after a neighboring one. They could be contradicting each other and not only you will not get the maximum benefit from your workout but you are in the danger of having an injury like some pulled muscles. Isabel’s cousin Ralph Touchett is the “conscience” of the novel, telling by instinct whether the person-character is good or bad. He is sick but he is the only character that has the purest heart.

You came to the gym gloomy and dragged your feet as you did not have the energy even to go up a couple of stairs. Some people agonize reading this kind of 19th century Victorian English But when you came out to go back to your car, you felt energized and refreshed. You felt triumphant that Isabel Archer was going back to Rome for Pansy not necessarily for Oswald. But she decided whatever her heart was telling her. In the end, it was all that mattered: independence. She followed her heart: a personal triumph.

In the end, you did not regret going to the gym. In the end, I am happy I read a Henry James.

Like the paintings in the Uffizi Gallery that left some of the novel’s characters and the museum visitors in awe, James kept me in constant awe while immersing myself in his masterpiece. I am amiss for words to write the ”review”, feeling that anything I write would be like sacrilegious blotches on the canvass of perfection that I have just read.

Fortunately, the edition I read includes Colm Tóibín’s short but superb Afterword from which I’ll quote a few passages. Appropriately an “afterword,” only to be read after finishing the novel not because of the spoilers (hardly any are hinted at) but as an eloquent expression of the very same reflections a reader is left with after finishing this magnificent novel. Moreover, it contains a few biographical details, including real and fictional persons who inspired some of the scenes and characters. I was also elated to learn that the scene when Isabel Archer contemplates her life— in fact taking the entire chapter (42)—which grabbed me so much that I thought I read it in one breath, was later described by James himself as “obviously the best thing in the book.”

As Tóibín succinctly put it, the novel “blends architectural perfection with unerring characterization” and, while “James was concerned with consciousness rather than plot,” he “nonetheless understood that a novel must have a body as well as a soul.” And its soul is the titled Isabel Archer, the most fascinating, as well as the most complete in her portrayal, female fictional character that I have ever encountered. Tóibín said it best again: “He [James] was fearless in his depiction of the play of her consciousness; her high ideals and her need for freedom were dramatized against repression and dark restriction. In concentrating on her fate in the world, he created one of the most magnificent figures in the large and sprawling house of fiction.”

John Banville wrote a sequel, but I must give room to reading more James before I see what another talented writer had made of his unforgettable character. I read The Aspern Papers earlier this month, but now, after The Portrait, I am more than certain that there is no stopping for me in my reading journey with James this year.