New Century Reading

Bleak House: The End!

We did it!

I'm not going to recap the final eight chapters of Bleak House, because you've read them, right? Instead, I'll say that I found the ending extremely satisfying. Unlike Our Mutual Friend, which wrapped up in an overly rapid fashion, I found the pacing here to work. I love that Esther got her happy ending--but she's all too aware of all the people around her who didn't get theirs, whether it's her guardian who kindly backed away from marrying her so she could pursue her heart (thus making him possibly an even better person than Esther herself, something she wouldn't argue), or the widowed Ada with her young child, or Caddy, who's life is perhaps better than it would have been had she stayed with her mother, but still, it's poignant to think of her with her deaf and mute child. There's Skimpole and his unforgivably cruel assessment of John Jarndyce in his journals. Glad that old goat finally died. The hilarious reappearance of Mr. Guppy and his second proposal. And of course there's Richard, dead to his cause ("beginning the world", what a great phrase) and for nothing; and Miss Flite, finally releasing her birds; and the heart-tugging Sir Dedlock, wasting away and grieving at the mausoleum where Lady Dedlock rests.

I might even have teared up a little when the name of Woodcourt's cottage was revealed to Esther, and the guardian revealed his secret plans.

The only thing missing for me--and this is a minor quibble--is I would have loved a little scene where Mrs. Woodcourt has to admit to Esther that she was wrong about Esther. But, obviously she came around.

I am so glad I finally read this. It's part of a huge, yawning gap in my reading (similar to what Girl Detective mentions here), and it was so delightful. I'm glad I read it over winter too. Even though not all the book takes place in winter, it feels like a wintery read.

There were so many passages I marked in this last section. Here are a few of my favorites:

"I proceed to other passages of my narrative." Esther, in her first section after her mother's death. Oh, fine, Esther, just BREAK MY HEART why don't you.

"[Mr. Kenge] said this at the stair-head, gently moving his right hand as if it were a silver trowel, with which to spread the cement of his words on the structures of the system, and consolidate it for a thousand ages."

"Thus Chesney Wold. With so much of itself abandoned to darkness and vacancy; with so litle change under the summer shining or the wintry lowering; so sombre and motionless always--no flag flying now by day, no rows of lights sparkling by night; with no family to come and go, no visitors to be the souls of pale cold shapes of rooms, no stir of life about it;--passion and pride, even to the stranger's eye, have died away from the place in Lincolnshire, and yielded it to dull repose."

For me, Dickens' willingness to not have all the story threads end happily makes this such a full and rich ending. Of the books I've read by Dickens (Great Expectations, Tale of Two Cities, Our Mutual Friend, A Christmas Carol, and The Chimes, this is far and away my favorite.

Next week we'll reconvene once more to talk about introductions and last thoughts. Thanks for joining in, everyone, this was great fun!

A few more Goreys for your visual pleasure:

Miss Flite frees her birds.

Sir Dedlock visits Lady Dedlock's final resting place.

Esther and Allan at the new Bleak House.

 

Bleak House

Oh, my.

After joking in the earlier parts of the book that this wasn't a very bleak book, we seem to now have come to the bleakest part, and it is bleak indeed.

Poor Lady Dedlock.

Not that I thought I'd say that earlier in the book. Which makes me think about all the reversals that have taken place. Lady Dedlock, so haughty and snobby, turns out to have been possibly in a state of despair most of her adult life, her love life thwarted, thinking her child is dead but then finding out she's not, and yet Lady D can't truly engage with her, and thinking her husband is a bit of a pompous fool. For as it turns out, he may be, but he also truly loved her, to the point that he makes what I assume will be a deathbed statement that no one is to speak against her after his death, nor should anyone say that he would have turned against her. And now I hope he dies before he finds out Lady D's fate. Which will surely kill him if he's not already dead.

Detective Bucket, who seemed ominous at points, turns out to be just like Columbo (thanks for that analogy, V), and his instincts are proven sound, if unfortunately too late. Esther, who was annoyingly cloying early on, continues to break my heart. Ada has gone to the dark side.

What have I missed?

While I was hoping that maybe Lady D. would be found in time, passages like this were too ominously foreboding to give me any real hope:

"There is no improvement in the weather. From the portico, from the eaves, from the parapet, from every ledge and post and pillar, drips the thawed snow. It has crept, as if for shelter, into the lintels of the great door--under it, into the corners of the windows, into every chink and crevice of retreat, and there wastes and dies."

That's a masterful piece of foreshadowing right there. And this: "The day comes like a phantom. Cold, colourless, and vague, it sends a warning streak before it of a deathlike hue, as if it cried out, 'Look what I am bringing you, who watch there! Who will tell him?'"

I leave you with the Gorey of the week, Esther finding her dead mother. Next week: the final installment. It's eight chapters, but they're fairly short.

Bleak House

Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude.

When Dickens decides to start moving the story along, he doesn't waste any time, does he? Well, maybe in the 600+ pages that came before this section (in my edition) there has been a little time wasted here and there, but in this section? Hoo boy.

What worries me, though, is that when I read another one of Dickens' big tomes, Our Mutual Friend (also a lovely and fun read), it too had several intertwining plot points and characters that were leisurely brought to life, and then BAM! it was over. As if he'd suddenly gotten tired of all of them, and with one brisk wiping of his hands, he wrapped everything up and went off to the pub. I hope that's not going to happen here. I've been happily committed to this book for quite a while now (as have you all) and I hope he doesn't race to the end. We shall see.

In the meantime! We now know who killed Tulkinghorn, and we now know (although I for one hadn't been wondering) who George's mother is, and Lady Dedlock has disappeared, and it appears her husband maybe had a stroke (if that's the translation from "apoplexy"), but it also appears possible that while utterly clueless, he may actually care for his wife and be worried for her welfare, even if she brings scandal on Casa Dedlock.

Wow.

There was much to enjoy in this section. Mr. Bucket and his continuous "Sir Leicester Dedlock, Baronet". Mrs. Bagnet's commentary on lawyers: "'It won't do to have truth and justice on his side; he must have law and lawyers,' exclaims the old girl, apparently persuaded that the latter form a separate establishment." The description of London at dawn: "The frosty night wears away, and the dawn breaks, and the post-chaise comes rolling on through the early mist, like the ghost of a chaise departed. It has plenty of spectral company, in ghosts of trees and hedges, slowly vanishing and giving place to the realities of day." The description of Mrs. Rouncewell as a "handsome piece of old china". And, sadly, the description of Lady Dedlock fleeing her home: "She veils and dresses quickly, leaves all her jewels and her money, listens, goes down-stairs at a moment when the hall is empty, opens and shuts the great door; flutters away in the shrill frosty wind."

The only question I had is: it seems like Mr. Bucket put two and two together pretty early on. So why did he arrest George? And why did he go see Sir Dedlock? What do you think?

Two more weeks, folks. Next week, chapters 57-59. Here's this week's Gorey, the scene where Bucket takes away Hortense after interviewing her in front of Sir Dedlock:

Bleak House

You guys, I just realized--we're almost done! I mean, I know that because I'm reading a print copy of the book, and my bookmark is close to the end. But I really realized it when I looked up the publication schedule to see how many chapters I had to read this week, and saw that after this set, there's only three weeks left! Dickens has a lot of ground to cover.

Which he does, in various ominous ways, in this section. I fear neither Caddy Jellyby nor her child are long for the world, even if Esther brings in Woodcourt and sees Caddy improving. Say what you will against Mr. Deportment, at least he shows up regularly and brings some cheer, as opposed to Caddy's mother, who--good heavens. There are just no words for that wench.

Oh, Ada--what were you thinking? I really do not see how that can end well.

Mr. George, your intentions are noble, and one can certainly understand your antipathy to lawyers, but you're in a very bad spot here, and you need help. Lady Bagnet to the rescue!

Mr. Bucket, I'd watch your step if I were you. And yet, I'm still not 100% convinced it's Lady Dedlock. Last week, Heidi commented that maybe it's the French maid. I hadn't considered that, but it's a distinct possibility, especially since she could dress herself as Lady Dedlock as a way of framing the latter, in revenge for being let go. And perhaps she's behind the flurry of two-worded letters to Mr. Bucket?

I loved this description of Mr. Bucket:

"Mr. Bucket and his fat forefingers are much in consultation together under existing circumstances. When Mr. Bucket has a matter of this pressing interest under his consideration, the fat forefinger seems to rise to the dignity of a familiar demon. He puts it to his ears, and it whispers information; he puts it to his lips, and it enjoins him to secrecy; he rubs it over his nose, and it sharpens his scent; he shakes it before a guilty man, and it charms him to destruction. The Augers of the Detective Temple invariably predict, that when Mr. Bucket and that finger are much in conference, a terrible avenger will be heard of before long."

Next week, chapters 54-56. This week's Gorey: Mr. Bucket observes Lady Dedlock on the stairs near the Wanted poster.

Bleak House

Well then. We've arrived at the final quarter of the book, and Dickens appears poised to really start having things happen. This section is full of sad things--Jo's death (sniff) and Mr. George's arrest for the murder of Mr. Tulkinghorn. I have to admit I love the whole lead-up to Tulkinghorn's death. I figured out fairly quickly what was about to happen, but Dickens was on a roll:

"Not only does the stillness attend it as it flows where houses cluster thick, where may bridges are reflected in it,where wharves and shipping make it black and awful, where it winds away from these disfigurements through marshes whose grim beacons stand like skeletons washed ashore."

But while I'm 99% convinced Lady Dedlock committed this murder, there's 1% of me that isn't so sure. I don't for a minute think Mr. George did it. Certainly he was no friend of Tulkinghorn, but overall he's too honorable. Yet Lady Dedlock letting her maid go so that she wouldn't be tainted by an upcoming scandal, and knowing the Tulkinghorn plans to tell Sir Leicester--yes, that's plenty of motive, but at the same time, I got the impression she let Rosa go because she knew her hidden life was about to be revealed and shock all good society. She doesn't seem surprised that Tulkinghorn is going to reveal the secret.

So...did she murder him on a moment's whim? Did she perhaps see who murdered him (because it seems like Tulkinghorn would definitely have more than a few people who'd like to see him dead)?

And wasn't his death a pointed contrast to poor Jo's? Jo had so very little in his life, but at least he died a safe death in a place where people tried to care for him and wanted him to live. Unlike Tulkinghorn, who was no friend of Jo's, and who was shot in the back.

I knew that Bucket was coming back to haunt us. What a creep, sitting there at the birthday party, pretending all is well, when he's just biding his time before arresting Mr. George.

That said, the birthday party was a much-needed bit of levity in this section. Poor Mrs. Bagnet, with that hideous meal! She knows they're trying and they think they're doing well, but no question she'd rather do it herself.

Next week, chapters 50-53 (and I peeked and see that Esther returns). This week's Gorey: Roman looking down at the corpse of Mr. Tulkinghorn.

Bleak House

Oh, Esther, Esther, Esther. Girlfriend, you are breaking my heart. I can't believe I used to not like you very much. Now all I want is for Woodcourt to declare his undying love for you and that he still finds you beautiful and to stand up to his snobby bitch of a mother and sweep you away. I mean, not that John Jarndyce is a bad match. Not at all. But you're settling. You're the poor little orphan who can't confess to the world who her mother really is, and your face is all wrecked, and you have no inheritance, and and you're doing your damnedest to rescue Richard who just won't come to his senses, and you're lucky and pathetically grateful for the scraps life is giving you. Granted, they're better scraps than many others have gotten (Jo!!). But still.

Interesting timing on Jarndyce's proposal, right after Esther tells him who her mother is. Is he up to something, or is he just trying to protect her?

OMG, Skimpole's family is the most pathetic brood ever.

And who stole Jo away from Bleak House??? Tulkinghorn? Mr. Guppy? What do you think? Nice cliffhanger this time.

I liked many passages this week:

Skimpole's home: "It was dingy enough, and not at all clean; but furnished with an odd kind of shabby luxury, with a large footstool, a sofa, and plenty of cushions, an easy-chair, and plenty of pillows, a piano, books, drawing materials, music, newspapers, and a few sketches and pictures." I'm thinking Pottery Barn should start up a line of Skimpole Shabby Chic. But I suspect Pottery Barn would demand money upfront for the products.

"Mr. Vholes remained immoveable, except that he secretly picked at one of the red pimples on his yellow face with his black glove." Nope, Dickens didn't have to get overly fancy with his description, just some nice use of basic colors, and we've got all we need.

The paragraph that really broke my heart:

"And in [Woodcourt's] last look as we drove away, I saw that he was very sorry for me. I was glad to see it. I felt for my old self as the dead may feel if they ever revisit these scenes. I was glad to be tenderly remembered, to be gently pitied, not to be quite forgotten."

Oh, Esther!

Chapters 47-49 for next week. This week's Gorey: Esther burns the flowers Woodcourt had given her and she'd dried.

Bleak House

If I was surprised last week at how much I enjoyed a section devoted entirely to Esther, then this week was a sense of disappointment of not having any contact with her. Which is not to say I didn't like this section--it's just that I'm engrossed in her story and am saddened to be pulled away from it.

Vholes is awful in a quiet, insidious way. Oh, Richard. You would do so much better to take counsel from Mr. Jarndyce and Esther.

What's up with Tulkinghorn's little show at Chesney Wold? Why would he not just go to Lady Dedlock directly with his insinuations? It sounds as if he might blackmail her, and then he turns on the dreadful Hortense when she tries to blackmail him. I am not clear on Tulkinghorn at this moment.

There were many lines I marked as delightful. Regarding Vholes: "He never misses a chance in his practice; which is a mark of respectability. He never takes any pleasure; which is another mark of respectability. He is reserved and serious, which is another mark of respectability. His digestion is impaired, which is highly respectable."

And:

"All the while, Vholes, buttoned up in body and mind, looks at him attentively. All the while, Vhole's official cat watches the mouse's hole."

The gorgeous piece at Chesney Wold, looking at the artwork devoted to generations of Dedlocks:

"But the fire of the sun is dying. Even now the floor is dusky, and shadow slowly monts the walls, bringing the Dedlocks down like age and death. And now, upon my Lady's picture over the great chimney-piece, a weird shade falls from some old tree, that turns it pale, and flutters it, and looks as if a great arm held a veil or hood, watching an opportunity to draw it over her. Higher and darker rises shadow on the wall--now a red gloom on the ceiling--now the fire is out."

Volumnia, with "a mouth of false teeth like a pianoforte too full of keys."

This week's Gorey, of Lady Dedlock after her private consultation with Tulkinghorn. Next week, chapters 43-46.

Bleak House

But before we start, a few notes: A recent short story in the New Yorker, The Women by William Trevor, makes a quick but definitely not random reference to Bleak House. Also, while reading this lovely book, I came across this comment about broad-winged hawks: "Even during a week when tens of thousands are seen, there may be none at all spotted on days with rain or easterly winds." I guess Mr. Jarndyce and broad-winged hawks both think poorly of winds from the east. Finally, commenter V shared this link: was Dickens an influence on other writers?

If you had asked me earlier in this book if I would appreciate a section entirely composed of Esther's narrative, I probably would have shuddered. How much of that saccharine, selfless voice can one reader take?

As it turns out, I was happy to spend time with Esther this week, partially because behind that saccharine voice, there's an increasing sense of sadness and of bad fortune to come, as if Bleak House is finally going to live up to its name. Richard is going down a very bad path, and Esther is helpless to stop him, try as she might. The fact that he's pretty much walked away from his guardian is not a good sign.

Then there's her encounter with Lady Dedlock, the latter showing a side we've not seen much of before. How devastatingly sad for both of them, that they're alive in a time where Lady Dedlock would lose all her standing if she were to confess to being Esther's mother, and it's not like she'd have a way to make a living afterwards. For Esther to bravely go to Mr. Guppy and tell him to back off--and to face the hideous spectacle of him back-pedaling on his proposal so ferociously after seeing her scarred face--must have been just about unbearable.

We're definitely seeing a decrease in the amount of humor that was present in earlier sections, and a rise in melancholy. I found the scene where Esther decides whether or not to keep the flowers Woodcourt gave her that she dried to be heartbreaking:

"I wished to be generous to him, even in the secret depths of my heart, which he would never know, because I could have loved him--could have been devoted to him. At last I came to the conclusion that I might keep them; if I treasured them only as a remembrance of what was irrevocably past and gone, never to be looked back on any more, in any other light. I hope this may not seem trivial. I was very much in earnest."

Oh, Esther, how could it be trivial?? You've had so little go right for you, and your one chance at true love beaten down by Woodcourt's odious mother and your own fear of your decayed looks! This is not trivial at all!

There was at least a little glimmer of humor:

"'His'n, miss,' returned Charley; whose grammatical education was advancing, but not very rapidly."

But beyond that, this was so sad. Next week, we have 4 chapters to read rather than 3, but at least in the edition I'm reading, it's about the same number of pages overall. Dickens appears to have been quite consistent in his section lengths.

Bleak House

Oh, for Pete's sake.

There's much to comment on in this section, but you know what my overall impression is? Remember, on Dallas, how Bobby Ewing died? And then came back later in the shower? And it was all just a dream? And how much that pissed some people off?

Yeah, that's how I feel about Esther's "blindness". C'mon, Dickens. That was just mean. And now you're not-so-subtly hinting that her appearance has been badly altered. Well, I'll believe it when I see it. Fool me once, old man, shame on me...

Seriously, ending the last section with the cliffhanger that Esther might have been blinded, then slithering away from that made me sour on this section. Even with the delightful news that the Smallweeds are the heirs to Krook's building, meaning Guppy can't get his slimy hands on whatever papers he's looking for. And the joyous righteous indignation at Smallweed manipulating Mr. George in that insidious way, which is wonderfully villainous.

Between backing off from the blindness and wandering into potential disfiguration, and the eminent sainthood of the dear doctor Woodcourt, well...you better kick it up in the next section, Dickens, because you have Disengaged This Reader. Hopefully temporarily. I have to wonder what people in Dickens' times thought of it. Maybe they were just relieved Esther isn't blind after all.

Those of you who liked it, please feel free to explain why.

Here's the Gorey of the week: Esther caught in her fevered hallucinations. Next week, chapters 36-38.

Bleak House

 

Good gracious! We seem to have come fully out of the transitional part of this book and landed right smack dab in the action. And holy cow, what a variety of action: we have Caddy Jellyby's wedding; we have the return of the increasingly odious Skimpole; we have poor Jo, sick and miserable, and even worse, sharing his sickness so that Charley nearly dies and it seems that Esther may be blinded; and--heavenly days, as my grandmother used to say!--SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION!

I guess you can't accuse Dickens of not being willing to take a few chances.

According to Wikipedia (so take it for what it's worth), during Dickens' day, spontaneous combustion was not actually much believed in, but his use of it here in Bleak House may have caused people to think twice. That's the kind of power Dickens had, people.

The Wikipedia entry reminded me of another stellar cultural piece involving spontaneous combustion:

 

I think Mr. Dickens would have approved of Spinal Tap, don't you?

Speaking of pop culture, Esther saying she's blind reminded me of this:

 

I think that clip cuts out the part where Pa cries. Because unlike the actual Little House books, in the TV series, Pa cried all the damn time.

But I digress. Sorry.

Besides the actual plot points, this was an interesting section because, even before Esther says she's blind, my sympathy for her increased. First, her tremendous kindness to Caddy--could there be a more pathetic wedding? Especially taking place after the visit from the odious Mrs. Woodcourt, who could not have been more hurtful if she tried? What's this about Esther marrying a man 25 years older than she? Clearly Mrs. Woodcourt is in the love-smashing business, and she's doing a dandy job of it.

If that wasn't odious enough, we have the wedding party with all the cause-devoted, grim-faced guests and Caddy's own mother's condescending attitude. Esther rises to the challenge, in spite of what she's just been through with the awful Mrs. Woodcourt, and does everything within her power to give Caddy some much-needed support and a taste of joy.

And if THAT wasn't enough, we have poor Jo near death and Mr. Skimpole's arrival and arrogant proclamation that Jo should just be sent off, nothing to be done. For he is a child--Mr. Skimpole is--and that is his way. If it wasn't clear before, his so-called childlike ways are now fully revealed to be the vile self-serving attitudes of extreme egotism. Jo is the child here--and Jo needs help. Mr. Skimpole is a user who needs a slap upside the head and to be sent away in the manner he wants Jo to be sent away. But no, Esther again steps up to the challenge and does everything she can to help the poor boy, who is so used to being sent away that he can't recognize an honest offer of help.

And THEN we have the creepy, conniving Guppy and Tony, sitting in that dreary, frightening room with ashes and goo, waiting for the stroke of midnight to collect the letters that will likely prove Lady Dedlock's past, when they discover that Krook has simply combusted with no apparent cause.

I don't know about y'all, but I was pretty exhausted after this batch. I can only imagine what readers back in Dickens' day did when they got their hands on this section. I think these three chapters show what Dickens could do best: combine social commentary (and a whole lot of it here) with some ripping good plot maneuvers and enlightening of characters.

This week's Gorey picture accompanies what I thought one of the most gently sad section of text:

"Then Caddy hung upon her father, and nursed his cheek against hers as if he were some poor dull child in pain. All this took place in the hall. Her father released her, took out his pocket-handkerchief, and sat down on the stairs with his head against the wall. I hope he found some consolation in walls. I almost think he did."

In my edition, at least, we've just crossed the halfway point. Next week: chapters 33-35.