What an outstanding and brilliant novel!!!
Loved it!!!

"The Woman in White" by Wilkie Collins is without a doubt not only a classic, but much more a gothic story with unforgetable, extraordinary and striking characters..

Mark Twain said that " A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read"..

But you need to read about count Fosco and his sinister past..
At the end of the day Wilkie Collins novel is about the rights of woman and the unflinching determination of a society intending to protect the status of men having dominion over their wifes..

Also Collins writting evoke reminiscences of Charles Dickens best novels!!!

Full recommendation to all my Goodreads friends..

Dean;)

The Woman in White is a gem of a novel - creepy, dense, menacing, and always intriguing. For a long time, the reader isn't quite sure what is going on, only that it isn't good - and it's to Collins' credit that when the plots are revealed, they are as interesting as anything I was supposing.

Note: The rest of this review has been withdrawn due to the recent changes in Goodreads policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here.

In the meantime, you can read the entire review at Smorgasbook

This is my second time around with The Woman in White and I think my first impression was basically the same as this one.
The first 1/3 of the book is boring as hell. It's full-up with a lot of Walter pining for Laura, Laura crying into her handkerchief, and Marian pushing everyone into doing the right thing.
It's not only a bunch of class nonsense that separates our lovers, but it's chock full of silliness like people suffering a shock and nearly dying from it, or keeping insane promises to dead parents to their own detriment. <--no parent wants that!
It was overdramatic bullshit and it made it very hard for me to stick with the story.



The middle of the book kind of picks up the pace. You aren’t biting your nails or anything, but you are fully involved with the drama.
Better. Much better.



The last part of the book makes it all worthwhile. Colins does not skimp on doling out the secrets or wrapping up loose ends. You find out not only whodunnit but why they dunnit.
You also get a fantastic ending for these characters that you’ve been on an emotional roller coaster with for such a long time. Well done, sir.



This was serialized in a newspaper.



Which means two things to me. One, this was a book made for the sweaty peasants, so it has a good chance of being quite a bit more fun than whatever shit was published for the intellectuals of the day.



Two, it's going to read like a television series instead of a movie. In other words, the story is going to be less concise because it was meant to last longer and therefore will ramble a bit to pump up the page count.
Prepare yourself accordingly.



Bottom line for me is that if you can make it through the really dull bits in the beginning, you'll probably really like the way Collins manages to bring everything full circle and wrap it up.
However, even with a well-narrated audiobook, I had to stop after a few hours of this and go listen to a trashy romance novel because I was just drifting off due to boredom. I eventually made myself sort of gut it out, and I'm glad I did, but I can honestly see why several of the people I've talked to never managed to finish this one. I'm giving it 4 stars but that's an overall grade that hinges on the last half being very well done. You really have to knuckle down and get ready to slog through a lot of dull garbage on the front half to get to the payoff.
I know that this one is more well-known, but I actually thought Moonstone was a better overall book.

2009
I almost gave up on this book. The first half of the story seemed to drag on and on endlessly. I'll admit I'm not one who appreciates vivid descriptions of scenery or weather. It had me screaming, "Get on with the good stuff!" more than a few times. That being said, the second half of the book was great! I stayed up well past my bedtime to finish it! There were quite a few "gotcha!" moments in it that I really enjoyed! The ending surprised me only because I wasn't expecting everyone to make it out alive, much less live happily ever after. In fact, I thought poor Laura would be dead by the second or third chapter. Anyway, I liked it.

Η γυναίκα με τα άσπρα (μπορεί να ήταν και με τα μπεζ δεν παίρνω κι όρκο, βλέπετε ο συγγραφέας ήταν άντρας).
Θυμάμαι το διάβασα το 2012 λίγες βδομάδες πριν την αποφοίτησή μου από το πανεπιστήμιο. Ήταν το μεγαλύτερο σε μήκος βιβλίο από συγγραφέα της Βικτωριανής εποχής που διάβασα, μέχρι εκείνη τη στιγμή.

Λίγους μήνες πριν μια φίλη μου μου είπε ότι το αγόρασε και της είπα ότι το διάβασα πριν 6 χρόνια, με παρακάλεσε να το διαβάσουμε μαζί και λόγω του ότι θυμάμαι ότι μ’ άρεσε και ήθελα να το θυμηθώ, και επίσης λόγω του ότι μια συνανάγνωση είναι πιο ζωντανή από την μοναχική ανάγνωση αποφάσισα, δειλά μεν, να το ξαναδιαβάσω παρόλο που ήταν 728 σελίδες.
Μέχρι να έρθει η Πρωταπριλιά και να το ξεκινήσουμε προστέθηκαν άλλα δυο κορίτσια. Και έτσι η συνανάγνωση από buddy read έγινε read-along (ομαδική).

Και έτσι δέκα μέρες μετά ολοκλήρωσα αυτό το βιβλίο που είχα βαθμολογήσει από την πρώτη ανάγνωση με 5 αστέρια. Και βγήκε δικαιωμένο. Ήταν με λίγα λόγια αριστούργημα.

Μπορεί να είναι Βικτωριανή Εποχή, η γλώσσα να είναι διαφορετική με λέξεις που τότε είχαν διαφορετικό νόημα:
society=παρέα
gay= εύθυμος
destroy= σκοτώνω
αλλά μπορώ να πω ότι οικειοποιήθηκα την αγγλική γλώσσα του 19ου αιώνα έτσι αυτό δεν αποτέλεσε πρόβλημα.

Διαβάστε τη συνέχεια στο μπλογκ μου, ΒιβλιοΑλχημείες

SPOILER ALERT because I'm sick of whiners leaving me comments.

Wow. This is supposed to be a classic mystery? The Woman in White was one of the most boring books I've ever read, and I've read a LOT of Victorian books. The plot is seriously that a woman marries a man she doesn't want to marry, and he stages her death to collect her fortune. YAWN. Am I supposed to be impressed that she followed through with her word to her father and married Sir Percival, even though she loved Walter? Nothing interesting happens for about 400 pages, something slightly interesting happens, and then nothing happens for another hundred pages. In fact, I'd guessed the end of the book before I was even halfway through.

The premise is that Walter Hartright is collecting information about the events from the people who witnessed them - I guess that is a clever way of writing a book, but there is no real purpose to this. He says it's so that he can have an accurate description of events so that he can prove his wife's true identity.

I don't know how things were back in the 1850's, but I have a very hard time believing that two women are SO IDENTICAL that NO ONE can tell that there was a switch.

Also, Collins's treatment of women is horrible. Laura is constantly fainting and having fits and losing her memory and doing things she doesn't want to do and then weeping about it - "dear me, I'm so helpless!" She's a wet rag, talentless, and boring, and I don't know why Hartright is in love with her. Marian is a much stronger character, but still, she's always saying things like, "I know I'm only a woman, but ..." I seriously thought that Marion would end up with Walter at the end. But, she's not very pretty, and I guess looks are more important than brains.

Seriously, I cannot believe I waded through this boring crap for four weeks. And then, I get to the end and there's a letter that was published in the newspaper about how Collins had his dates wrong! And that's what most of the book hinges on! Not to mention the fact that he could have told the story in about 400 fewer pages. Y-A-W-N!

Πολυεπίπεδο αριστούργημα από τον Γουίλκι Κόλινς, το οποίο διαβάζεται με αμείωτο ενδιαφέρον, διατηρεί την αρχική του φρεσκάδα και μεις οι αναγνώστες καταλαβαίνουμε την αξία της καλής κλασικής λογοτεχνίας.
Ο συγγραφέας φτιάχνει ένα βικτωριανό ψηφιδωτό, με πολλούς χαρακτήρες, μυστήριο και συνεχείς ανατροπές ενώ παράλληλα δεν διστάζει να διαχειριστεί θέματα που σίγουρα για την εποχή που γράφτηκε το βιβλίο θεωρούταν ταμπού, απαγορευμένα ή και βλάσφημα.
Το βιβλίο μπορεί να λειτουργήσει σε πολλά επίπεδα, αλλά το βασικό του πλεονέκτημα είναι η ιστορία και ο εκπληκτικός τόπος γραφής του Κόλινς.
5/5

Αιφνιδιαστικά συναρπαστικό!

Ο Ουόλτερ Χαρτράιτ προσλαμβάνεται για μερικούς μήνες στο Λίμεριτζ Χάουζ από τον κύριο Φέρλι για να διδάξει ζωγραφική σε δύο νεαρές δεσποινίδες, τη Λόρα Φέρλι και τη Μάριαν Χάλκομπ. Στο πρώτο μέρος του ταξιδιού του προς τα εκεί, σε έναν ερημικό δρόμο, μία η ώρα το βράδυ ο Ουόλτερ συναντά μια μυστηριώδη γυναίκα ντυμένη από την κορυφή μέχρι τα νύχια στα λευκά.
Και κάπως έτσι ξεκινάει για τον Ουόλτερ, τη Λόρα και τη Μάριαν μια δυσάρεστη περιπέτεια.

Αν και δεν έχω διαβάσει πολλά βιβλία της εποχής(19ος αιώνας) περίμενα να συναντήσω πολλές γλαφυρές περιγραφές, καθωσπρέπει κυρίους και ευαίσθητες δεσποινίδες που με την παραμικρή αναστάτωση να πέφτουν του θανατά. Αντιθέτως βρήκα αγωνία, μυστήριο, συνωμοσίες και βαθιά σκιαγραφημένους χαρακτήρες!

Δεν θέλω να πω κάτι παραπάνω για την υπόθεση μιας και πιστεύω πως είναι καλύτερα να ξεκινήσει κανείς ανυποψίαστος.
Θα πω όμως ότι από τις πρώτες κιόλας σελίδες του με κέρδισε με την ατμόσφαιρά του, αλλά και αργότερα μπαίνοντας όλο και βαθύτερα στην ιστορία καθώς με κάθε νέο στοιχείο που έρχονταν στο φως η αγωνία μου αυξάνονταν. Καθώς περνούσαν οι σελίδες όλο και πιο πολύ ήθελα να φτάσω στη λύση του μυστηρίου!

Θέλω επίσης να αναφερθώ στους δύο χαρακτήρες που μου έκαναν τη μεγαλύτερη εντύπωση: την Μάριαν Χάλκομπ, έξυπνη, γενναία, δυναμική, ένας εξαιρετικός γυναικείος χαρακτήρας που συμπάθησα πάρα πολύ, και από την άλλη μεριά ο κόμης Φόσκο. Ένας ιδιαίτερα ύπουλα κακός τύπος, του οποίου την πολυπλοκότητα του χαρακτήρα βρήκα συναρπαστική και πραγματικά απολάμβανα να διαβάζω γι' αυτόν!

Ιδιοφυές, ανατρεπτικό, συναρπαστικό, μου άρεσε πολύ!


n  n    B.R.A.CE. 2018: 4 βιβλία με ένα χρώμα στον τίτλο ή στο εξώφυλλοn  n(2/4)

”This is the story of what a Woman’s patience can endure, and what a Man’s resolution can achieve.”

This is how Walter Hartright, one of the protagonists of Wilkie Collins’s renowned novel The Woman in White, starts his account of events, and dear me! he doesn’t start it too well. This formulaic drivel about “a Woman’s patience” and “a Man’s resolution” certainly bodes ill, and from the way Mr. Hartright tells his story, losing no opportunity to fly into stale pathos – especially when he meets Laura Fairlie (men do seem to have a tendency to get wordy over Lauras) –, makes one think that a woman does indeed have to muster up a lot of patience in order to be able to remain in the same room with Walter. So does a man, so does a dog, so does a newspaper, for all I know.

Frankly, when I started my re-read of The Woman in White a few weeks ago, I had dim memories of not particularly enjoying my first experience of this novel, especially since I had read The Moonstone before and had the impression that the story of the mysterious Anne Catherick was not quite on a par with the story of the fateful jewel. Working myself through the often plodding pages of William Hartright’s account gave me the impression that my memories were well-founded but I decided to read on, anyway, and my perseverance was generously rewarded with a very good story – after all, The Woman in White is generally regarded as one of the finest and earliest examples of the Victorian sensational novel – and with some great and memorable characters, to boot.

Let’s quickly comment on the story first! Now, I am not particularly good at guessing how a story will develop and how a mystery will turn out in the end. When my wife and I watch a detective movie on TV, she will, after the first half hour or so, invariably snap her fingers and say something like, “Ha, I think that the first murder was committed by the butler’s half-sister, and the second one by the butler himself to pin it all on his half-sister, who now tries to cover the tracks in two murder cases. By the way, Tom Scuttles and the newspaper man are one and the same person, and in the end, Miss Talbot will marry young Snyder.” – It usually turns out that she is right, with me never having thought anywhere near it. So, when I tell you that I was quite surprised by how all the mysteries presented in The Woman in White were interrelated and how they were finally solved, it may not mean a whole lot, but still, that’s all I can tell you.

However, a good plot alone does not make any novel rise above the average rank and file. It also takes interesting and vivid characters to engage the reader’s attention. In this novel, I found three memorable characters. On the amusing side – although probably anything but amusing to people who have to live with him and to deal with him –, there is the hyper-sensitive hypochondriac Mr. Fairlie, whose egocentrism prevents him from carefully looking into his niece’s affairs and protecting her interests. The novel is epistolary in character, i.e. like in The Moonstone Collins tells the story from different perspectives, also adopting different styles in order to reflect the respective first-person narrator’s personality. Now Mr. Fairlie’s account begins with a sentiment we might possibly all feel inclined to share, namely, “It is the grand misfortune of my life that nobody will let me alone.” He then goes on in such a pettifogging and peevish way that it conveys a weird kind of pleasure to read his short account. Talking about “a count”, we then have the impressive Count Fosco, a man who is so full of himself – and of evil tricks and cunning – that his bodily frame has extended into Homeric proportions, and yet he is lithe and soft of step like a panther. Count Fosco is one of the most intriguing villains I have ever come across in literature – scheming, duplicitous, resourceful and cultivated –, and when he has confessed his crimes in connexion with poor Laura and her half-sister, he has the chutzpah to add, perversely not entirely without justification, since he also intimates what he could have done, “Judge me by what I have done. How comparatively innocent! how indirectly virtuous I appear in what I really did!” In this vein, measuring our actions by what we could have done instead of should have done, we are all perfect saints, and indebted for this saintliness to Count Fosco! Collins even increases the fascination inherent in Fosco by endowing him with a soft spot for Miss Halcombe – and this soft spot inducing him to play out all his superior cards.

Last, but not least, there is Marian Halcombe, Laura Fairlie’s half-sister, whose cleverness and determination contribute a lot to saving the day. One of my favourite passages in the novel sees her eavesdrop on Fosco and his accomplice Sir Perceval, and in order to do this, Marian climbs on a veranda roof, beforehand exchanging her Victorian crinoline for something more practical. This could be seen as symbolic of an early presentiment concerning the change of woman’s role in society, but unluckily, valiant Marian is eventually reduced to becoming Walter Hartright’s sidekick again – when I’d rather kick Walter’s arse than his side for his being such a boring prig – and later a loving aunt to Walter and Laura’s son, and a benevolent spinster into the bargain. She also seems to think rather low of her own sex, often making deprecatory remarks as to typical women’s pastimes or characteristics as opposed to men’s. Interestingly, the author endows her with the svelte and lovely build of a beautiful woman but then gives her rather masculine facial features and hands.

I have said it often before, and I’ll say it again, sparing myself the trouble to come up with a new idea: Collins’s style may not be anything like Dickens’s, and he may also fail when it comes to creating larger-than-life characters such as Mr. Micawber, Mrs. Gamp, or Miss Havisham – but his female characters are head and shoulders above Dickens’s self-sacrificing, blameless Little-Nell-dummies. Even Laura Fairlie, who, by the way, is one of the few characters in this story never to be granted the privilege of contributing her first-person account to the story but is rather constantly talked about and cared for, has a moment of strength and determination when she refuses to sign a legal document without being allowed its perusal first. In this respect, Collins was by far more modern than his friend and mentor Dickens, and this is one of the reasons why he is still so refreshing to read.

I read way too much Victorian stuff when I was little. Girls were always fainting and I would sit in church on Sundays, eyeing the altar boys and deciding which one’s arms I was going to faint into. It seemed such a romantic thing to do. On the other hand, the likelihood of ever fainting seemed poor. I didn’t have a clue how or why one would, let alone time it for when a loved one was standing, arms to the ready.

Subsequently, as an adult, I have done so a couple of times and it is nothing like the books make it out to be. Sigh.

The first time was 1994. I’d got up late morning – 1pm, to be exact and when you are a card playing type that IS still morning – smoked a joint and went to the shower – an over the bath affair. I stood there brushing my teeth and it occurred to me that I was going to pass out. ‘Interesting’, I thought, and went on brushing. I know the obvious thing with this warning would have been to sit down in the bath, or get out, but I’m not very good at the obvious. And I did indeed pass out quite directly. Unfortunately I hit my face on the taps on the way down, with a couple of cuts so deep they almost went right through my cheek. Where was the gallant guy who saves you as you faint? On duty somewhere else, I guess. I shakily got myself up and dressed and went down to my local doctor who sewed me up. Romantic it was not.

The second time was last night. No loved one then either, no chivalrous man to save me from myself. What’s the point of fainting if there is no one to save you? I’m doing something wrong here. My timing is shite. But it’s like I suspected when I was little. It was all very well fantasising about fainting into the arms of the cutest altarboy…but it’s all in the timing and how on earth was I going to get that right?

Bugger it. I’m giving up fainting. Consider it a belated New Year’s Eve resolution.

At the ripe age of sixty, I make this unparalleled confession. Youths! I invoke your sympathy. Maidens! I claim your tears.

So finally, finally I got around to reading the classic that is The Woman in White.

About the book, I am so glad I read it. I didn't love it, but I fully acknowledge that it is a remarkable book and, its time, must have caused quite a stir.
I loved the narration from several points of view - basically, every character got their say at one point. Even a grave stone got a paragraph to tell part of the story!

I loved the plot and the twists - but I won't go into them because, erm, spoilers and such - even tho I already had a good idea of where the plot was going to go.

I loved that there was such a mix of characters. From the courageous, to the devious, to the whiny, to the downright pathetic. And no, the "hero" of the piece was not necessarily the best character.

In fact, Walter Hartwright was such an annoying, whiny, lovesick puppy for the first part of the book that I felt some great relief when another character took over the narration.
Luckily, Walter improved later in the book. (Although, he remained a condescending git.)

The second main character, Laura, was no better. If there was a quote to describe her, this would be my pick:

"I am so useless— I am such a burden on both of you," she answered, with a weary, hopeless sigh. "You work and get money, Walter, and Marian helps you. Why is there nothing I can do? You will end in liking Marian better than you like me— you will, because I am so helpless! Oh, don't, don't, don't treat me like a child!"

Luckily, Laura is absent for much of the book because.....ahaha....it's a mystery.

No, my favourite character of this book was Marian Halcombe, whom Walter (the main character) describes as follows on their first encounter:

The easy elegance of every movement of her limbs and body as soon as she began to advance from the far end of the room, set me in a flutter of expectation to see her face clearly. She left the window— and I said to myself, The lady is dark. She moved forward a few steps— and I said to myself, The lady is young.
She approached nearer— and I said to myself (with a sense of surprise which words fail me to express), The lady is ugly!
Never was the old conventional maxim, that Nature cannot err, more flatly contradicted— never was the fair promise of a lovely figure more strangely and startlingly belied by the face and head that crowned it. The lady's complexion was almost swarthy, and the dark down on her upper lip was almost a moustache.
She had a large, firm, masculine mouth and jaw; prominent, piercing, resolute brown eyes; and thick, coal-black hair, growing unusually low down on her forehead. Her expression— bright, frank, and intelligent— appeared, while she was silent, to be altogether wanting in those feminine attractions of gentleness and pliability, without which the beauty of the handsomest woman alive is beauty incomplete.

Well, as I said, Walter was a bit of a git. However, this is one of the examples in the book that shows how Collins set out his narratives and that he did to include humor, even if it was kinda shallow.

Some of us rush through life, and some of us saunter through life. Mrs. Vesey SAT through life.
All of this was very well. Good writing, a well laid out plot, a romantic element, experimental writing (for its time), fascinating characters, ...
So, why did The Woman in White not sweep me off my feet?

I guess the simple answer to this is that the story dragged. A LOT. I'm at a loss to see why we needed to read the Third Epoch, other than this having being printed as a serial originally and Collins obviously kept the story going for a paycheck.

Had he cut some of the overly detailed explanations at the end I would have enjoyed this much, much more. Alas, he didn't. Just could not come to the point, which reminded me of all the things that were so annoying about Walter in the beginning of the book - it took him ages to come to a conclusion about his feelings that were just so obvious:

I loved her. Ah! how well I know all the sadness and all the mockery that is contained in those three words. I can sigh over my mournful confession with the tenderest woman who reads it and pities me. I can laugh at it as bitterly as the hardest man who tosses it from him in contempt. I loved her! Feel for me, or despise me, I confess it with the same immovable resolution to own the truth.

No shit, Sherlock.

3.5★
“The instant my eyes rested on her, I was struck by the rare beauty of her form, and by the unaffected grace of her attitude. Her figure was tall, yet not too tall; comely and well-developed, yet not fat; her head set on her shoulders with an easy, pliant firmness; her waist, perfection in the eyes of a man, for it occupied its natural place, it filled out its natural circle, it was visibly and delightfully undeformed by stays.”

Lest you get carried away breathlessly by our hero’s first view of this young woman, I will say only that he was viewing her from a distance and from behind. When she turns around and walks towards him, he is appalled! She is swarthy, masculine and ugly, he tells us. What a crass young fellow he is. But he improves and learns to appreciate Marian's brilliance and loyalty. She’s a great character. It’s her half-sister, Laura, who is the swooning, fair (dare I say dull?) heroine we meet later. Silly men.

Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens were firm friends, and this long, wordy, entertaining book will no doubt appeal to readers of Dickens. Dickens had been publishing his stories as serials in a magazine which folded, so he started his own. He published A Tale of Two Cities as a weekly serial, which captured a readership, and asked his friend Collins for a follow-up. This is it.

I wasn’t aware of that when I began reading, but it’s obvious to me now. It’s considered one of the first mystery novels, and there are many chapters and many voices. Each voice is distinct and tells the person’s part of the story as if reading a diary (some are supposed to be diary extracts) or recounting their version of events. This drags the story out somewhat, as events may be repeated from different points of view.

But it also strings the story together. Something we couldn’t figure out earlier (a chance sighting of a dim figure in the woods) is explained later by another character who happened to be near the woods at the time.

And characters they are. Like Dickens, Collins has a fondness for quirky people. One of my favourite awful people is Laura's uncle, Mr. Fairlie, a reclusive, complaining hypochondriac whom we tolerate because he owns a vast estate where the orphaned Laura and her devoted half-sister Marian can live. He allows only his valet in his rooms and treats him like a piece of furniture, commanding him to stand for long periods, holding things for him to look at. Here he is in his own voice.

“‘Let Lady Glyde's maid come in, Louis. Stop! Do her shoes creak?’ I was obliged to ask the question. Creaking shoes invariably upset me for the day. I was resigned to see the Young Person, but I was NOT resigned to let the Young Person's shoes upset me. There is a limit even to my endurance. Louis affirmed distinctly that her shoes were to be depended upon.
. . .
People in the lower class of life never know when or how to go out of a room. They invariably require to be helped out by their betters. I thought it high time to help the Young Person out. I did it with two judicious words— ‘Good-morning.’

Dreadful fellow. Can’t stand children. He reckons Nature created them only as machines for making noise. And there are excellent true villains, one of whom the fair Laura has been promised to in marriage - oh NO! Poor Laura! Poor Hartright! And what will become of Marian?

It’s quite a romp, really, and now that I’ve read it, I feel I enjoyed it. Much of it was quite funny (if wordy). Here, Hartright has met the heroine’s old nanny and thinks perhaps Nature was asleep at the wheel when creating her.

“A mild, a compliant, an unutterably tranquil and harmless old lady, who never by any chance suggested the idea that she had been actually alive since the hour of her birth. Nature has so much to do in this world, and is engaged in generating such a vast variety of co-existent productions, that she must surely be now and then too flurried and confused to distinguish between the different processes that she is carrying on at the same time. Starting from this point of view, it will always remain my private persuasion that Nature was absorbed in making cabbages when Mrs. Vesey was born, and that the good lady suffered the consequences of a vegetable preoccupation in the mind of the Mother of us all.”

This has all the trappings of its time: nobility, servants, wealth, lower class, carriages, trains, twice-a-day postbags, grand estates and hovels. The mystery has everything too. Jealousy, plots, intrigue, suspicious deaths.

I realise I've said nothing about the plot, but no matter. It's discussed at length widely. Perhaps I’d have enjoyed it more if I’d been looking forward to the next chapters every week rather than wading through it like a novel. And it did feel a bit like wading, I’m afraid. If you’ve read this far, you may feel the same way. But I can’t say I didn’t like it, because I did!

For an interesting discussion about the history and the times, have a look at Jean's review here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

4.5

“Through all the ways of our unintelligible world, the trivial and the terrible walk hand in hand together.”

Setting aside all the big and little things that don't really stand the test of time, I enjoyed it immensely. Moreover, it was kind of amusing to identify all the tropes that were alien to our modern sensibilities and to reimagine them in a perspective closer to us and our tastes. And yet, this thought was always accompanied by the awareness that changing the tiniest detail of (some of) Collins's characters would be nothing short of sacrilegious: Count Fosco, Marian Halcombe, and Mr Fairlie (yes, Mr My-Poor-Nerves Fairlie: his narrative is a masterpiece, and nothing will ever make me change my mind about this) are beyond any praise any words of mine could give.
This doesn't mean that The Woman in White gave me only joys. The award for Most Passive Character of the Year goes to Miss Laura Fairlie, for whose disappearance I yearned from page one to the infinity and beyond.

If you are ready or why not, eager, to put up with 700 pages of Victorian sensationalism at its purest, Collins is your man, and The Woman in White is your book.