masterpiece. best of James

***1.5***

AT LAST, I'M FREE!

This should have been approximately 400 pages shorter.

Ma quel che più lo offendeva, ella non tardò a percepirlo, era ch'ella avesse un suo modo di pensare e un cervello tutto suo. Ella avrebbe dovuto avere una mente asservita lui, attaccata alla sua come un piccolo stralcio di giardino a un gran parco di daini. Egli avrebbe rastrellato gentilmente il suolo e annaffiati i fiori, avrebbe sarchiato le aiuole e raccolto occasionalmente qualche mazzetto. Sarebbe stata una graziosa aggiunta di proprietà per un proprietario già ricco. Egli non desiderava ch'ella fosse stupida, al contrario: proprio perché era intelligente gli era piaciuta; ma si aspettava che la sua intelligenza operasse interamente a favore di lui, e ben lungi dal desiderare che la sua mente fosse vuota, si era lusingato che potesse ricevere un'impronta dalla sua.

Non potevo iniziare questa recensione se non citando uno dei passi del romanzo che mi ha colpito di più, e mi sono dovuta trattenere, perché Henry James sarebbe da citare tutto.
L'ho fatto di nuovo, ho fatto passare secoli per una recensione e continuerò a farlo, perché non ho tempo e da un po' nemmeno un computer, ma questo romanzo stava lì, in attesa che scrivessi qualcosa e ho dovuto per forza ritagliarmi uno spazietto.
"Paesaggio d'anime, tratteggiato da un maestro del realismo psicologico." È così che nel retro copertina viene descritto James, e io non potrei essere più d'accordo, perché dire che i suoi personaggi sono semplicemente ben caratterizzati sarebbe troppo poco. L'eroina del romanzo è Isabel Archer, giovane americana orfana di padre e di madre, che entra a far parte della famiglia inglese della zia, sorella della madre, che decide di occuparsi di lei. Isabel dimostra di essere una ragazza aperta al cambiamento, ben disposta ad imparare e a seguire i consigli della zia, ma ciò non toglie che sia dotata di una coscienza propria e che sogni l'indipendenza. Indipendenza che verrà grazie al cugino Ralph, che la renderà padrona di un'eredità importante.
Isabel Archer è una sorta di eroina anti-eroina, dotata dei soliti bei sentimenti che si trovano nelle eroine classiche ma anche con qualcosa in più. È palese la sua voglia di fare da sé, di viaggiare e scoprire il mondo, ma proprio la sua indipendenza la porterà vicino alla rovina. Sono tanti i personaggi che entrano in contatto con lei e ciascuno di loro cerca di indicarle la strada, sempre sottoforma di un buon matrimonio. Ma lei va per la sua strada e quando questa si rivela essere piena di infelicità e delusioni, non cerca aiuto ma prova a nascondere la sua palese infelicità agli amici di un tempo, senza rinnegare nulla e accettando i propri errori.
L'accostamento con Emma Bovary non mi aveva fatto ben sperare ma una scintilla di speranza nel suo futuro si intravede ancora.
Henry James accosta la vita di Isabel a quella di due antagonisti, se così si possono chiamare, che non vengono presentati come tali al lettore, o meglio il lettore capisce che c'è qualcosa sotto e ha libera interpretazione dei fatti e dei caratteri, capendo così le influenze che possono portare a personalità più deboli, come la piccola Pansy, punto in cui Henry James non lascia un briciolo di speranza.
Curioso poi, che proprio Isabel, che tanto sognava l'indipendenza, si ritrovi poi non padrona della sua vita. Ma se l'ambiguità di quei due personaggi era chiara al lettore, non era ancora chiara ad Isabel, ingannata senza pietà.
A fare da sfondo alle vicende non solo il paesaggio inglese ma anche l'Italia, con Roma e Firenze che rendono questo quadro ancora più bello.
Del suo romanzo Henry James dice:

La prima critica ovviamente sarà che non è compiuto - che non ho accompagnato la protagonista fino alla conclusione della vicenda, che l'ho lasciata en l'air -. Ciò è vero e falso al tempo stesso. Non si dice mai tutto di una cosa: si finisce per scegliere soltanto ciò che sta bene assieme, ciò che ho fatto ha questa compatezza: sta bene assieme. In sé è compiuto: quanto al resto, ci si potrà sempre tornare sopra, in un secondo tempo.

Henry James lascia perciò un finale aperto alla sua protagonista, un ritratto imperfetto e un futuro incerto, a differenza di tutti gli altri personaggi, ma che proprio nelle ultime azioni di Isabel mi ha fatto ben sperare, ritrovando in lei quell'indipendenza che le era stata strappata.

This book disappointed me sadly. I was expecting it to be a classic of realist tradition a la carte War and Peace or Middlemarch. I was expecting to learn a lot as a writer developing my craft as well. James' notes on structure development are examples of some of the best literary criticism you can find. So, I was a little surprised to see it not so as effectively rendered in his work. Certainly, his beginnings are captivating, and well-thought out, but James has a propensity for extremely long sentences. He divides the purposes of his paragraphs well, setting the scene when he needs to, or introducing a telling detail of a character when it suits, but it almost feels schematic. Well-organised, but almost too much so.

The dialogue was built for another generation, and I realise that, but there were plenty of times I circled things, not even understanding what it was meant to say. A lot of the chapters end on paragraphs that don't create a denouement or tension; they just simply seem done, and that was that. A lot of the writing is spent in exposition, and even a lot of the ways characters are described feel generic.

I'm a little surprised that this book has lasted as long as it has, and I think a lot of it has to do with Isabel Archer, who is fairly well drawn. While I don't think she is a very realistic or well thought-out female character, I do like what James was trying to explore; that sort of reckless and self-propelling independence, and the consequences of it. The ending is also quite good, in that is well-paced, clear, and yet somehow still mysterious.

I think it's a novel worth returning to, and a novel to still possibly learn from, but yes, I'm more perplexed by its reputation than I am enthralled by it.

I made it 40% of the way through this monstrosity before I had to finally throw in the towel. Apparently no one ever told James "show don't tell" judging by the complete lack of action in this book. In fact nothing ever happens. It just drags on and on in an annoying narrative voice that is too fond of metaphor and long descriptive phrases that frequently cloud more then they illuminate. The characters are complete twits, without a single redeeming quality among them. Judging by the way he writes his female characters, Henry James either was never actually exposed to women, or the ones he met were given lobotomies at age 7. There is no sympathy for the main female character or any of her cohorts, not even amusement at their foibles. In fact if you were stranded in a life raft, you'd be chucking them overboard within minutes, the whole useless pile of them. You would see the rescue ship as a dot on the horizon and pray you could drown them in time.

Save yourself the agony and go read something else.

“Her old habit had been to live by enthusiasm, to fall in love with suddenly-perceived possibilities, with the idea of a new attempt.”

Henry James, I do love you! I thought I did, but it had been such a long time, so many books and so many classic authors ago that I read you, I wasn’t sure. This was your test, and you aced it.

The Portrait of a Lady is a very special novel for a number of reasons, foremost for the writing. There are some places you just like to be, and I like to be surrounded by Henry James’ words. His prose is like a big fluffy cloud I just love to float around in. The best specific I can give about his style is this. I read this book over a three month period, stopping for lots of other books in between, sometimes for weeks at a time. Every single time I went back to Portrait, the characters were still fresh in my mind. I knew exactly who they were. James paints them with such care. Yes, he spends a little time at it, but when he’s done, we have, well, a portrait if you will; a picture of a character that does not slip easily from our minds.

And what characters James creates! Isabel is a complex heroine. She is unique; we don’t quite understand her. She has ideas about ideas--particularly the morality of them. She wants very much to make her own decisions, and even more to live by her convictions. She wants this very particular type of independence.

We’re given the intricacies of Isabel’s character in combination and contrast with the other complex characters and these beautifully-drawn settings, and it’s like seeing a picture in many different lights. The result is she feels like a real person that, even though I’ve finished reading, I could continue to get to know better over time.

In contrast to this deep and subtle character analysis, the plot is relatively simple, but very engaging. A woman has opportunities, makes choices, and in the process, steps into something quite dark. She learns, and carries on.

“Instead of leading to the high places of happiness, from which the world would seem to lie below one, so that one could look down with a sense of exaltation and advantage, and judge and choose and pity, it led rather downward and earthward, into realms of restriction and depression, where the sound of other lives, easier and freer, was heard as from above, and served to deepen the feeling of failure.”

One of the most interesting themes explored is the idea of freedom. Isabel craves a specific kind of freedom, and she is surrounded by people who demonstrate freedom in different ways. Her cousin Ralph has the money to do what he wants, and is free to adore her with no expectations, because he is a cousin, but also because he is ill and won’t live long. Her Aunt, Mrs. Touchett, is a model of self-centered freedom: traveling when and where she pleases, unveiling her plans to her husband and son only through cryptic telegrams. Her friend Henrietta is a brash reporter who uses her freedom to always speak her mind, whether her thoughts are welcome or not. These characters show us a largely benevolent freedom, but there are others who give us the dark, malevolent side: freedom deprived, freedom distorted, freedom withheld.

It is in times of difficulty, so it seems, that we learn how strong our convictions are.

I love Isabel, for the ideas that drive her and for her uniqueness. As she goes on living as that almost-real person in my mind, I find myself wishing her well.

“But it seemed to her that she had done something; she had done what she preferred.”

Without a doubt a masterwork in width and depth. James has a very special writing technique: each chapter starts with a consideration from the author's point of view or introspection into one of the characters, usually followed by a dialogue that adds new information. James uses long, highly processed sentences, and sometimes very heavy grammatical constructions; the dialogues are intense, especially because of the things that are not said or are only subtly hinted at. And all that is very captiviting.

But there are also some downsides. In terms of characters: the scenes with Rosier are not quite credible, because they seem constructed to fit the plot; the element of sexuality is totally kept out of the relation between Isabel and Osmond; and the absence of a reference to the psychological impact of the dead son is striking.

In general James follows a chronological line in his story, but after some key events there's a leap in time, without explanation of major changes that have taken place; only very gradually some information is given to clarify things; also towards the end, there are some unlikely passages (the friendship between Osmond and Goodwood, and the final scene with Goodwood). All in all, truly a great novel, that I have enjoyed very much, but with some issues.

Well this I found depressing. I don’t know why really because I’ve loved books with similar themes such as those by Edith Wharton. I just didn’t really take to Isabelle or her fate.

When I finished this book, I threw it down on the table in anger and walked away muttering. I guess we all want books to end like.. well, books! Not like real life. We have enough real life around us. Aren't books for escaping all that?

Maybe. This book is probably a classic because it is complex enough to actually resemble the real world. People make mistakes. Small mistakes. Big mistakes. Life-changing mistakes. They also show a lot of spirit and charisma, which is also real. None of the characters are simplified into "good" or "evil" exactly. They're ... REAL. They have good points. They have bad points. They make you angry while you're reading so you want to slap them and tell them to "cut it out!!" But then you learn for them to find love and fulfillment and happiness. That's real life. It's not simple and easy to read like most books, with a happy or predictable ending. I HATED the ending because it left so many things unresolved.

But, despite all that... I have to admit it was an amazing read.

The ancient Greek tragedian Euripides popped up in my mind while reading Henry James' (1843-1916) masterpieces Daisy Miller and The Portrait of a Lady. (*) Readers of Euripides’ work have to ask themselves whether Euripides was a misogynist or if he showed true sympathy for the Athenian women who suffered from the rigorous patriarchy in Athenian society. I, on my part, was astonished by Euripides’ portrayal of women and their oppression and I came to the conclusion that Euripides indirectly criticised Athenian male society. Having read the mentioned two works by James, I’ve had the exact same feeling. The way he describes Isabel Archer’s succumbing to moral and social conventions is compelling and leaves the reader with an uneasiness that I have seldom encountered in Victorian Literature. In James’ notebooks from probably late December 1880, early January 1881 he writes:

“The idea of the whole thing is that the poor girl, who has dreamed of freedom and nobleness, who has done, as she believes, a generous, natural, clear-sighted thing, finds herself in reality ground in the very mill of the conventional.”

The Portrait of a Lady is first and foremost a psychological portrayal of an "intelligent but presumptuous girl” (p. 634) of the 19th century whose decisions differ greatly from what the reader (at least the modern reader) would expect from a lady with such characteristics. Even though the romantic settings in Florence and Rome are inspiring and enthralling they are not really important to the story and the plot itself is far from being spell binding. James notes in his preface to the New York Edition of 1908: "The result is that I’m often accused of not having a “story” enough. I seem to myself to have as much as I need – to show my people, to exhibit their relations with each other; for that is all my measure.”

Having said that, it requires the mastery of one Henry James to make his readers stick to the more than 600 pages without hesitation. The omniscient narrator carefully describes Isabel’s marriage without being melodramatic and its presentation is therefore much more realistic and modern than in other Victorian novels, such as those by Charles Dickens for example. I was deeply touched by James’ awareness of women’s struggle in those days. When I mention ‘women’s struggle’ I have to point out, however, that Henry James’ portrays exclusively women of his social class (at least in the two books I read) and I can imagine why: One cannot describe a social and cultural milieu with such perfection without observing meticulously the immediate environment one lives in. In my opinion he knew exactly what he was writing about (James apparently took his inspiration for Isabel’s character from his cousin Milly Temple) and he showed immense respect and sensibility towards his literary characters, not only towards Isabel, but also towards minor characters who are all portrayed with care.

This work goes straightforward to my ‘favourites shelf’ and deserves my highest rating. It is an outstanding masterpiece by an outstanding author and I am eager to read more by him.

(*) I choose the Penguin Classics Edition for my reading of The Portrait of a Lady edited and with an Introduction and Notes by Philip Horne. The text reprinted in this edition is the book edition of 1882 and not that of the revised 1908 New York edition.

Nota: 3.5

“Retrato de Uma Senhora” (1881) é considerada a obra central do legado de Henry James. A mim serviu de porta de entrada, ficando a conhecer o mesmo, mas apesar de alguma admiração suscitada, deixou-me sem motivação para o continuar a ler. James realiza um trabalho soberbo de análise dos processos da consciência humana, na senda do que já nos tinha dado Balzac e Dostoiévski, capturando a nossa atenção ao longo de páginas e páginas de escalpelização dos mundos interiores dos seus personagens. Diga-se que James era irmão de William James, um dos grandes pioneiros da psicologia. O problema surge no conteúdo, nos personagens trabalhados, pela pertença à aristocracia, ou a uma burguesia muito próxima, que torna aquilo que se conta muito pouco interessante.

Existem temas interessantes, como a liberdade e o destino, nomeadamente no campo feminino, mas diga-se que é tudo muito estéril. A senhora, Isabel Archer, que veio dos EUA, dedica-se a passear pela Europa, diz querer ser livre, mas apenas busca alguém com quem casar. O primo, Ralph, que vive há muito em Inglaterra, aparentemente por ser doente, dedica-se a respirar, e como tem de respirar, passeia um pouco menos. Já a tia, vive em passeio pela Europa, enquanto vai maldizendo deste e daquele. Para o resto, existem criados e serviçais, mas desses não é preciso falar. Segundo James, os seus personagens vivem vidas muito complicadas, carregadas de decisões pesadas, que os impedem de desfrutar livremente das belezas de Veneza e Florença. Assim, o livro arrasta-se ao longo de centenas de páginas, pondo à prova a resistência dos mais pacientes, ainda que no final exista uma reviravolta que anima um pouco todo aquele universo.

Reconheço que independentemente da classe social em que se vive o ser humano arranja sempre forma de viver angustiado. Veja-se o caso exposto em “La Familia Grande”. Mas quando se escreve uma obra com esta dimensão, 700 páginas, e com um aprofundamento psicológico deste calibre, espera-se que seja com o objetivo de ilustrar algo relevante para quem lê. Verdade que em 1881 só a alta burguesia e aristocracia deveriam ter tempo e literacia para se dedicarem à leitura. Mas a seguir por este caminho, James castrou o interesse das suas obras, o que me ajuda a compreender porque apesar do seu nome surgir amiúde em textos de análise crítica, as suas obras são bastante menos lidas e citadas que as de outros autores da mesma época.

Entretanto descobri que John Banville gosta tanto de Isabel Archer que passados 140 anos resolveu escrever uma continuação da história da heroína de James — “Mrs Osmond” (2017). Não me admira, já que não fiquei propriamente impressionado com o seu “O Mar” (2005) que ganhou o Booker.


Publicado no VI:
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As can be inferred from the title, this novel is really a character study, and what a fascinating – and occasionally infuriating – character Henry James created with Isabel Archer. As I was reading, I wasn’t sure if I liked or despised her, I recognized myself in some of her behaviors, and shook my head at others. Wonderfully realized and complex, it’s impossible not to be fascinated with Isabel, so I get why her three suitors just won’t leave her be.

Isabel is very modern for the time at which “Portrait of a Lady” was written: stubborn, highly intelligent and fiercely independent; but she lacks worldly experience, so she makes willful choices that aren’t always the smartest. In a typically American way, Isabel desires above all the freedom to make her own choices. But the freedom to choose often entails the freedom to makes mistakes: this is essential to self-discovery, of course, and Isabel being full of contradictions (and a rather high opinion of herself) she will not let herself be swayed from doing exactly what she wants to do…

We all make mistakes: that’s life, and no mistakes would make for rather short and boring novels. But I am confused as to what Mr. James is trying to say about female independence: how independent is Isabel, really? Freedom entails responsibility, and I found Isabel rather capricious and immature in her reasoning: it seems to me that she rejects Goodwood and Lord Warburton more to show that she can than for any other reason, as if to show off her capacity to say no. She admits to wanting to be happy, and not knowing what happiness is all in the same breath. Poor Henrietta tries really hard to tell her she needs to keep her wits about her, but Isabel reacts to that the same way teenage girls react when their mother scolds them: by being defiant and sulky and throwing the baby out with the bathwater. She wants to be strong and assertive and while she claims that bad choices are hers to make, that doesn’t make them any less bad. Her lack of experience allow the deviousness of Osmond to work with ridiculous easiness: he just has to not fall all over himself to get her attention as she is fascinated and seduced. Gawd, teenage girl behavior, again! Idealism is great, but realism is important too: the world does not adapt to our whims, and Isabel learns that the hard way.

In some ways, this felt like the urban version of “Far From the Madding Crowd”: pretty headstrong lady with three beaus who makes all the wrong decision and is too proud to admit she put her foot in it up to the ankle. The difference here being that Mr. Goodwood, Lord Warburton and Mr. Osmond are all detestable. At least Bathsheba had Gabriel Oak, but poor Isabel only has a pile of louts… It was also hard for me to not think of “Liaisons Dangereuses” while reading “Portrait”: Isabel is no hare-brained Cécile, but in Ralph Touchette’s words, she gets caught just the same – there are no scandals, but plenty of misery. The general ambiguity that permeates this novel like a fog is fascinating: Is James praising feminism, or does he think it’s a doomed effort? Is he pro-marriage, or virulently against it (I mean, find one happy union in this book… go on… I’ll wait…)?

When Isabel realizes that she married a pretentious poser, she knows she has no options but to put up with it, because she can’t bring herself to do anything she would consider dishonorable. That, and her pride won’t allow her to show she is unhappy, even to her closest friends. She also considers the welfare of her stepdaughter very carefully: the repercussion of a scandal would affect Pansy and her chances of escaping the scheming her father and his acolyte probably have in store for her.

I am a huge Edith Wharton fan, and I knew James had been her close friend and inspiration, so I knew I would enjoy his work, but I also found it a lot less engaging than Wharton’s. It took me a while to read “Portrait of a Lady” because it was a strangely impersonal reading experience: I didn’t feel much for any of the characters besides a mild pity that they should all make such unhappy lives for themselves. Osmond and Madame Merle are certainly malevolent and manipulative, but I was expecting them to be more outrageous in their behavior towards Isabel: their villainy is not at the same level as the Vicomte de Valmont and the Marquise de Merteuil. As lovely as the writing was, the whole novel ended up feeling a bit too flat to really be enjoyable: I never felt immersed in the world on the page, and while this might have been deliberate on James' part, I did not enjoy feeling so remote from the story I was reading. This was disappointing, because I had heard so many people rave about this classic, and I thought I would love it. 3 underwhelmed stars.