Skellig by David Almond (novel #245)

 

“What are you?” I whispered.

He shrugged again.

“Something,” he said. “Something like you, something like a beast, something like a bird, something like an angel.” He laughed. 

“Something like that.”

Skellig is a young adult novel of magical realism set in Newcastle, England, in the late 1990s. It tells of 10-year-old Michael and his family. Michael has a lot to deal with: a move to a new neighborhood, a seriously dilapidated home, a newborn sister fighting for her life, and the lack of attention his parents can afford him at the moment. Oh, and he discovers Skellig, an otherworldly creature in the garage. 

Both Skellig and the garage appear to be in their final moments.

It's a charming story, probably suitable for children of Michael’s age and older. There is some eerie suspense, but nothing frightening. It is more about faith, wonder, courage, and friendship. Michael manages to make one new friend, independent-minded Mina, who becomes his one confidant regarding Skellig.

 

And Skellig? Well, he has something to offer…perhaps, if he lives long enough to show it

...he [Skellig] reached out and touched Mina's face, then mine.

"But i'm getting strong, thanks to the angels and the owls." 

 

My rating: 3 1/2 stars

 

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Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie (novel #198)

…above all things, I fear absurdity. ~ Saleem Sinai

 

Midnight’s Children is an allegory, using magical realism, and I think you’d have to call it historical fiction as well. The fictional narrator recalls real events and persons in India, just prior to independence from Great Britain in 1947 and continuing another 30 years.

 

The narrator Saleem Sinai is born at the stroke of midnight August 15, 1947 at the very moment India becomes independent. At the same moment another child is born, whose mother does not survive.

 

At the stroke of the midnight hour, while the world sleeps, India awakens to life and freedom…And beneath the roar of the monster there are two more yells, cries, bellows, the howls of children arriving in the world, their unavailing protests mingling with the din of independence which hangs saffron-and-green in the night sky.

 

Shortly after birth the babies are switched, unbeknownst to the parents. Saleem is raised in affluence while the other, Shiva, lives as an orphan in extreme poverty, a life that should have been Saleem’s.

 

Saleem, and all of India’s Midnight Children, born in the first hour of independence, are endowed with magical powers. The closer their birth to midnight, the greater their powers. Hence Saleem and Shiva are the most powerful, and eventually become enemies. Saleem can communicate telepathically with all the Midnight Children, and hopes to use their collective powers to help the young nation, while Shiva is more personally ambitious.

 

I didn’t love it; I didn’t hate it, but I respect it. I’m certain I’d appreciate this book more if I had better knowledge of Indian history. I thought it was a fascinating premise, and I think it’s probably rather brilliant…just mostly wasted on me. My deficiency, not the authors. I am reminded of John Updike’s first rule of literary criticism: 

 

“Try to understand what the author wished to do, and do not blame him for not achieving what he did not attempt.”

 

I think Rushdie wished to tell the world of India’s struggles in her early life. I think he did that admirably, but it wasn’t particularly compelling for me.

 

My rating 3 ½ out of 5 stars

 

 

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Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay (novel #131)

…history suggests that the human spirit wanders farthest in the silent hours between midnight and dawn.

Hanging Rock is a real place in Victoria, Australia.

Picnic at Hanging Rock is fiction, though in forward note, Lindsay casts some doubt on this point. Hence, the story has become legend and the novel is an Australian classic comparable to Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn in the U.S.

For me, Picnic at Hanging Rock is a perfect argument for rereading. I didn’t like it when I first read and reviewed it, four years ago. In fact, I felt cheated.

The story, set in Southern Australia, 1900, concerns the mysterious disappearance of three girls and one teacher from an all-girl boarding school, during a Valentine’s Day picnic to Hanging Rock (Down Under remember, so the height of summer). One of the girls is found, nearly a week later, barely alive, but even though she eventually recovers, she is unable to shed any light on the mystery.

Maddening! No one who ascended crags and crannies of the Rock could seem to remember ANYTHING. So, it’s a mystery. The first time I read this I was hooked, fascinated, obsessed, reading it entirely in one setting, anxious for the solution to the maddening mystery.

And then…Nope! No solution, no clue, mystery unsolved – Cheated!

As I’ve hinted, I had a different reaction with this reread. Two reasons: First, I was not obsessed with getting to the end and was able to appreciate Lindsay’s characters, settings, and dialogue. But, more importantly (still reason #1), when reading the all-important chapter 3 – last scene before the girls disappear – I was reading more deliberately and noticed a few marvelously subtle clues that did after all give a hint to an explanation.

Just the slightest hints…that there was something unworldly afoot. This was a wild-eyed, oh my goodness, no it can’t be moment for me, and I would probably doubt it still, if it were not for reason #2…

There is a missing chapter that confirmed my suspicions. It was in Lindsay’s original version, but excised by the publisher with her consent. I was very pleased with myself that I did not learn of the excised chapter until after I had formed my hypothesis. The 18^thchapter, also known as The Secret of Hanging Rock, is available online along with some interesting commentary.

I enjoyed Picnic at Hanging Rock much more with this reread. The 18^thchapter is quite bizarre and rather inharmonious to the otherwise realist style of the novel. That was probably Lindsay’s intent. It might even work better, as published without the 18^thchapter, and just the subtle hints, but for me – I just had to know if my suspicion was correct, so I’m glad to have the final chapter available.

My rating: 3 1/2 of 5 stars

I read this for the Back to the Classics Challenge 2019: a classic of Africa, Asia, or Oceania.

And in an odd bit of synchronicity, on the very day I finished Picnic at Hanging Rock, I was driving through the Blue Ridge Mountains, when my route took me through Hanging Rock West Virginia.

Excerpts:

Although we are necessarily concerned, in a chronicle of events, with physical action by the light of day, history suggests that the human spirit wanders farthest in the silent hours between midnight and dawn. Those dark fruitful hours, seldom recorded, whose secret flowerings breed peace and war, loves and hates, the crowning or uncrowning of heads.

To take a sword and plunge it through your enemy’s vitals in broad daylight is a matter of physical courage, whereas the strangling of an invisible foe in the dark calls for quite other qualities.

It is probably just as well for our nervous equilibrium that such cataclysms of personal fortune are usually disguised as ordinary everyday occurrences, like the choice of boiled or poached eggs for breakfast.

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Dream of the Red Chamber by Cao Xueqin (novel #114)

(translation by Franz Kuhn)

Your earthly destiny is fulfilled! Do not delay now, but follow us! ~ Buddhist monk and Taoist priest to Pao Yu

Dream of the Red Chamber (Hong Lou Meng), or The Story of the Stone (Shi Tou Chi), or 

Written mid-18^thCentury during the Qing Dynasty by Cao Xueqin (Tsao Hsueh-Chin), Dream of the Red Chamber is the most recent of China’s Four Great Classical Novels: [Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Journey to the West, Water Margin]. If there were an Eastern Canon, this would be part of it.

It has also been described as the Chinese version of Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past – but I think that’s unfair since Dream predates Remembrance by more than a Century – bit ethnocentric. We should say, Remembrance of Things Past is the French version of China’s great novel Dream of the Red Chamber.

Which doesn’t bode well for Dream of the Red Chamber, since I nearly hated Remembrance of Things Past. 

But Happily and surprisingly, I found Dream of the Red Chamber much more enjoyable and accessible. I have to make one confession though – I read an abridged version. I ordinarily refuse to read abridged versions, but the full version is like a billion pages. Additionally, there is great difficulty in translating this work; the full translation just doesn’t – ummm? – translate well. So much so, that my translation isn’t considered abridged, just a liberal translation. It’s still quite long – like a million pages (bit over 600 actually).

Dream of the Red Chamber is about the decline of the Chia clan, an aristocratic family, of two major houses: Ningkuo Palace and Yuongko Palace. It is thought to be semi-autobiographical and is largely a character driven story – and goodness, there are plenty of characters, 40 major characters and over 400 others. The main character is Chia Pao Yu, a young prince, probably around 14 at the beginning of the novel, of the Yuongko Palace who was born with a jade stone in his mouth. In a preface, the translator describes him as:

…a highly gifted but degenerate young aristocrat, a psychopath and a weakling, asocial, effeminate, plagued by inferiority complexes and manic depressions, who though capable of a temporary rallying of energies, founders among the demands of reality and slinks cravenly away from human society.

That’s about right. But somehow, I still liked him. His mother, and grandmother, the Princess Ancestress, spoil him, while his father terrorizes him, nearly beats him to death at one point – so he has some excuse for his foibles.

Between the two Palaces, there are countless cousins, siblings, half-siblings of concubines, and maids who are more familiar with their masters than is typical of Western domestics.

The other two main characters are female cousins, Black Jade and Precious Clasp. They are rivals for Pao Yu’s attention, though genuinely affectionate to one another. Again, the translator’s description:

Black Jade, of a nearly saintly chastity

Precious Clasp, womanly warm, sensible

When Pao Yu first meets Black Jade, the narrative of his impression is more poetic:

She was beautiful, but her beauty was clothed with the cloak of suffering. Her eyes were always glistening as if full of tears. And how faint and soft was her breathing. In repose she was like the dewy reflection of a flower in water. In motion she was like a willow branch trembling in the wind.

Early, I was pulling for Black Jade; with a name like Black Jade I couldn’t help but imagine her a rare beauty, but as time goes on, I found her insecure, simple, and needy. My hopes for Pao Yu turned to Precious Clasp, but no spoilers. Pao Yu was incredibly fickle, flirting with any and every female in the palace including his maids and half-sisters.

Male names were transliterated while female names were translated. The female names were beautiful and/or funny:

Beginning of Spring

Taste of Spring (becomes a secondary wife to the Emperor)

Grief of Spring

Greeting of Spring (the four Spring girls were not sisters, but cousins)

Mandarin Duck

Gold Ring

Pearl Musk

Bright Cloud

Autumn Wave

Cuckoo

Snowgoose

Painting Maid

And poor Numskull (who lived down to her name)

The title, is derived from a dream Pao Yu has early in the novel that foreshadows his life. It is filled with charming ethereal descriptions:

I am the fairy of the Fearful Awakening. I live not far from here in the Phantom Realm of the Great Void, in the Sphere of Banished Suffering, behind the Drenching Sea of Trouble, on the Heights of Liberated Spring, in the Grottoes of Everlasting Perfumes. I judge the Play of Wind and Clouds between human beings and settle the unbalanced debts of love between unhappy maidens and languishing youths. It is not chance but destiny which leads me to you today.

 This language was fun and proper in the dream, but would have grown pretty tiresome if it pervaded the novel. It doesn’t.

As one might expect from an 18^thCentury Chinese writing, there are mystical elements, such as the stone found in Pao Yu’s mouth at birth. There are other omens and occurrences that we would probably call magical realism – but I don’t think it correct to apply that label here. One of the more interesting such elements was a wandering and mysterious pair: a Buddhist monk and a Taoist Priest who showed up at various points, to offer sage advice, or prophetic warning, and who would then usually vanish.

I think they were probably representative of a spiritual message the author was conveying. The translator wrote:

From the Buddhist and Taoist points of view the answer might be: It is a story of the gradual awakening, purification, and final transcendence of a soul originally sunk in the slime of temporal and material strivings.

I enjoyed this read, though I didn’t quite love it, but it’s good to get out of my comfort zone, and it was interesting to learn about Imperial Chinese Aristocratic society. It was a reminder, that although we have very different ways and customs – people everywhere are remarkably similar.

My rating: 3 ½ of 5 stars

 

This novel satisfies – Back to the Classics Challenge 2018 – Category: a classic with a color in the title. It also completes the 2018 Challenge.

Other excerpts:

From the Pao Yu’s dream, description of wine he is offered:

It is prepared from the pollen of a hundred flowers, the juices of a thousand plants, the marrow of uniciorns, and the milk of the phoenix, and it is called A Thousand Delights in One Goblet

And this I found curios. At one period of studious determination in Pao Yu’s life it says:

Early to bed and early to rise was the watchword now.

Curious, because it is an apparent quotation of Benjamin Franklin, who could have been known to the translator, but probably not the author.

Finally of note, at one point in the novel a play is enacted, portraying one of the earlier Great Chinese novels, Journey to the West.

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The Stand by Stephen King (97 down, 3 to go)

What rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?  ~ from the poem The Second Coming by W.B. Yeats, quoted by Glen Bateman in The Stand

Believe it or not, this is my first time reading Stephen King, who is probably best known as a horror or supernatural or suspense writer – but I wouldn’t quite categorize The Stand as any of those. I call it a post-apocalyptic tale with magical realism, and a definite Christian theme.

Not at all what I expected. At first I was a bit disappointed. There haven’t been many horror, sci-fi, fantasy, or suspense thrillers in my reading quest, and I was hoping for something…overtly SUPERNATURAL and spooky.

My disappointment quickly subsided though. King creats such marvelous human characters: Larry, the aspiring West-Coast rock star with his first big hit climbing the charts; Frannie, the well-bred New-England college girl unexpectedly in the family way, Nick, the admirable and pitiable deaf-mute from nowhere just trying to make his way in the world; Stu, the good ole boy from Texas; and Tom, the man-child with feeble mind and heart of gold. I was immediately invested in their fates, and painfully aware their fates would be agonizing, uncertain, heartbreaking and heroic.

 

The world has come to an end – well very nearly: 95% of the world’s population killed by an escaped viral weapon. Early in the novel, when the virus is having its way, King focuses on a handful of human souls, and by his focus, the reader can surmise – these will be – the lucky ones? randomly immune from the dread virus. They are separated by sociologic and geographic divides, but slowly as their lives go inexplicably on, they also become forever interconnected.

 

And then there is a bit of the supernatural, in the person of 108-year-old Mother Abagail, on close terms with the Almighty and calling survivors to herself in their dreams.  There is also her opposite number whom she calls the devil’s imp, known to others as The Dark Man, The Walking Dude, or Randall Flagg.

 

Both are mustering forces for an epic showdown – or as one character opines:

 

...if you look at it from a theological point of view, it does rather seem as if we’re the knot in a tug-o-war rope between heaven and hell, doesn’t it?

 

 

Well, I’m hooked. I’ll be reading more Stephen King soon. 1,200 pages in two weeks, for me an extremely fast pace – testimony as to how fascinating I found it. Have you read The Stand? Stephen King? What did you think?

 

My Rating 4 ½ of 5 stars

 

Stephen King’s characters often quote other authors or read classic literature. I love it when authors do that. References in The Stand included:

 

Catch-22

The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings

The Scarlet Letter

Animal Farm

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Watership Down

Flowers for Algernon

H.P. Lovecraft

Edgar Allan Poe

And my favorite. There are three old ladies who raise chickens/eggs in the new world, who are known as – the Weird Sisters. I can’t be certain, but I believe this is a reference to the witches from Shakespeare’s Macbeth (who are never referred to in the play as witches, but as the weird sisters).

 

 

Film Rendition: 1994 TV mini-series (6 hours) – a pretty good adaptation. Even in 6 hours they had to cut a bit, and they made a few changes, but overall it was well cast (quite a few big stars) and true to the book. As usual the book is better, but I enjoyed the film as well.

 

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The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (87 down 13 to go)

He had uttered a mad wish that he himself might remain young, and the portrait grow old; that his own beauty might be untarnished. ~ narrative regarding Dorian’s thoughts

This is the second time I’ve read The Picture of Dorian Gray and it remains the only work I’ve read by Oscar Wilde; it is his only novel. The book is a gothic novel set in Victorian era England. It is the third-person narrative of Dorian Gray, and as you might guess involves a picture, painting to be precise, of the title character. The picture is mysteriously endowed with magical qualities that creates a strange and fantastic relationship between picture and subject.

My rating: 3 1/2 of 5 stars

This novel satisfies 2017 Back to the Classics Challenge category #7 – A gothic or horror classic.

I was looking forward to this read, as I remembered liking this novel very much the first time I read it at least 10 years ago. I liked it even more this time as I realized a much more profound meaning.

Dorian Gray, an exceptionally beautiful (never described as handsome) young man, has his likeness painted by Basil Hallward: a friend of Dorian’s and an artist of moderate distinction. Lord Henry Wotton, a friend of the artists, is introduced to Dorian and the painting. Hallward and Lord Henry agree it is Hallward’s masterpiece, and they heap praise on the impressionable Dorian. During a philosophical discussion on the qualities of youth and beauty, Dorian uttered a mad wish that he himself might remain young, and the portrait grow old; that his own beauty might be untarnished

I don’t suppose it is too much of a spoiler to tell you – Dorian’s wish comes true.

But it is a bit more profound than that. For it seems that not only time, but any sin, any vice, any unkindness that Dorian commits, has a defiling effect on the picture.

But neither the reader or Dorian realizes this until Dorian falls madly in love with a beautiful young actress Sybil Vane. After an uncharacteristically poor stage performance, Dorian is repulsed and rejects Sybil permanently, leaving her distraught and despairing.

Shortly thereafter, Dorian notices the first defect in the painting. He tries to convince himself it is his imagination, but eventually he cannot deny that it has changed and now displays a touch of cruelty in the mouth.

This physical revelation of the ugliness of his sin drives Dorian to repent.

One thing, however, he felt that it had done for him. It had made him conscious how unjust he had been to Sibyl Vane.

He is genuinely contrite and truly realizes the vanity and cruelty of his actions. He writes a long letter to Sybil begging forgiveness and professing pure and undying love.

But sadly, some things cannot be undone. The painting becomes an ever-present accuser in Dorian’s life.

For every sin that he committed a stain would fleck and wreck its fairness. But here was a visible symbol of the degradation of sin. Here was an ever-present sign of the ruin men brought upon their souls. The portrait was to bear the burden of his shame: that was all. While Dorian…had always the look of one who had kept himself unspotted from the world.

Though it did cause him to reflect…wondering sometimes which were the more horrible, the signs of sin or the signs of age.

The story fast forwards nearly 30 years, and the reader realizes that, perhaps in despair at learning of his inability to atone for his sin, Dorian has led a hedonistic and libertine existence. He still looks young and innocent, but secretly takes perverse pleasure in watching the increasing corruption of the painting, which is by now vile and hideous.

Dorian keeps the painting locked away in the attic where no one but himself can ever view it.

And then, he reveals the painting, and its incredible secret to one soul.

Dorian then commits his greatest sin. So great that his guilt drives him to once again avow repentance and atonement, only once more to learn his actions cannot be undone.

As I mentioned, I was more impressed with this second read. There are profound themes of sin, guilt, repentance, atonement, free will, and fatalism. I quite concur with Wilde’s apparent premise that our vices take their toll even in our physical frame, and I certainly agree that the consequences of some actions cannot be stopped.

Some readers might find Wilde’s story fatalistic and without hope. Dorian seemed unable to escape his fate, but personally, I think Dorian was a grim lesson of the fine line that can separate despair from glory. Dorian came oh so close on several occasions to righting his course. I don’t take his failure to mean that Wilde was suggesting it is impossible to do so, but merely pointing out how fine the line and how horrible the consequence.

Dorian’s two friends: Basil Hallward and Lord Henry Wotton are stark contrasts. Both adored Dorian, perhaps even obsessed over him. Lord Henry delighted in Dorian’s debauchery, once stating:

Dorian is far too wise not to do foolish things now and then, my dear Basil.

But Basil tried to disbelieve the evil rumors. When he is forced to face Dorian’s corruption he tries desperately, and almost successfully, to warn Dorian away. He implores Dorian that

Though your sins be as scarlet, yet I [God] will make them as white as snow. Sadly, Dorian considers himself beyond redemption.

And finally, Sybil Vane: I found her name interesting and tend to think Wilde chose it intentionally. Sybil denoting a prophetess, and vane perhaps a play on vain. Dorian’s love was certainly quite vain, and Sybil turned out to be the harbinger of his doom.

Side note about cover art: One of the problems with any cover art for this novel is that the cover can never live up to Wilde’s description of Dorian. He is repeatedly described as extraordinarily beautiful – almost supernaturally so – no cover art seems adequate. They often fail to coincide with his physical description of gold hair, curls, blue eyes, and red-rose lips.

Other excerpts:

Humanity takes itself too seriously. It is the world’s original sin. If the caveman had known how to laugh, history would have been different. ~ Lord Henry

There are only two kinds of people who are really fascinating – people who know absolutely everything, and people who know absolutely nothing. ~ Lord Henry

"Each of us has heaven and hell in him, Basil", cried Dorian with a wild gesture of despair.

Film Rendition:  1945 with 20-year-old Angela Lansbury as Sybil is very good, and quite faithful to the novel.

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Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince) by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (novel #103)

The proof of the little prince’s existence is that he was delightful, that he laughed, and that he wanted a sheep.

(update: June 20, 2018)

I reread this for the Back to the Classics Challenge 2018

**sigh** 

Such a charming little book. What follows is my review from March of 2016.

I still give it 4 1/2 stars

(the following is my review from March 2016)

This is the third time (fourth now) I’ve read The Little Prince. It is the first-person narrative of pilot Saint-Exupéry after he makes an emergency landing in the Sahara desert many miles from help or civilization. Saint-Exupéry encounters the peculiar and other-worldly little prince. The two spend days together and many hours of conversation while Saint-Exupéry works on his aircraft. The book is a novella, and indeed a very short novella, and I think you could call it magical realism. The illustrations on the cover and inside were done by Saint-Exupéry. This novella is not part of my 100 Greatest Novels Quest.

My rating: 4 1/2 of 5 stars

I first read The Little Prince when I was eleven. My sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Banks, whom I will always love, introduced me to a wonderful book called The Hobbit. I loved it, and quickly consumed the sequel The Lord of the Rings. Mrs. Banks then recommended The Little Prince. I trusted her judgement, so I obtained a copy and anticipated another thrilling epic.

I was terribly disappointed. I thought it was the dumbest thing I’d ever read.

I was eleven.

Fast forward 30+ years, a friend whose judgement I also trusted, recommended The Little Prince. I was puzzled. My memory of the book didn’t reconcile to my worthy friend’s opinion.

So, I gave it another try. I was stunned by the power, the poetry, the poignant wisdom – thank you Mary Ann!

I won’t try to synopsize the tale, nor venture much into its meaning – except this – The Little Prince is about what we value, and how what we value when we grow up, grow mature, grow wise – is often less worthy than the things we valued when young.

That might sound like Peter Pan – refuse to grow up, but that isn’t the message. I have no problem with J.M. Barrie’s magical fantasy, but refusing to grow up – well – it can’t be done and if you try, you look rather absurd. The Little Prince is not about not growing up or non-conformity. It’s about value.

It’s really no wonder I didn’t appreciate it when I was eleven. This isn’t really a children’s book, though some children will like it. It has talking flowers, and foxes, and snakes, and space travel, and few adults, but it isn’t a children’s book. You can read about Saint-Exupéry and his extraordinary life and it should become obvious that The Little Prince was a very personal tale and certain characters are undoubtedly mapped to persons in the author’s life. For me, it is simply a poetic tale, and I would mar its beauty should I attempt to be any more analytical than that.

Excerpts:

He couldn’t say another word. All of a sudden he burst out sobbing. Night had fallen. I dropped my tools. What did I care about my hammer, about my bolt, about thirst and death? There was, on one star, on one planet, on mine, the Earth, a little prince to be consoled! I took him in my arms. I rocked him. I told him, “The flower you love is not in danger…I’ll draw you a muzzle for your sheep…I’ll draw you a fence for your flower…I…” I didn’t know what to say. How clumsy I felt! I didn’t know how to reach him, where to find him…It’s so mysterious, the land of tears.

One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes. ~ The Fox

You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed. ~ Saint-Exupéry

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The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne (58 down, 42 to go)

Be true! Be true! Be true! Show freely to the world, if not your worst, yet some trait whereby the worst may be inferred!

This is the first time I’ve read The Scarlet Letter or Nathaniel Hawthorne. The novel is subtitled A Romance. I hardly consider it a romance, though it is written in the Romantic, or more precisely Dark Romantic style/period. It is the third person narrative, realist novel of Hester Prynne, a woman guilty of adultery in mid-17th century, Puritan, Boston.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

 

I did not know what to expect from this novel. I was familiar with the basic premise: a woman forced to publicly bear her shame, but I had no idea of the outcome. For her crime, Hester is forced to wear, on her breast, the scarlet letter A, for adultery. She becomes a symbol of sin and shame and is an outcast to the pious residents of Boston. Hester is admonished to name her guilty partner, but refuses. At her sentencing, Hester is forced to stand exposed to public shame on a scaffold for three hours, along with the infant daughter and proof of her crime, little Pearl. I was captivated immediately by this novel, and found that I pitied and admired Hester.

Pity is easy to understand, as she received none from her townsfolk. It is more difficult to explain why I admired her. Let me be clear: Hester was guilty. This was never in dispute, and I do not mean to excuse her sin. But at her public shame, I could not help but think of another adulteress, who was brought before Christ. The rulers of her time called for execution (there were some of Hester’s time who called for the same) and asked Christ what was to be done. He adjured that whoever was without sin should cast the first stone.

Yes, Hester was guilty – but who is not? I admired her for the peace and grace with which she bore the shame, venom, and hypocrisy. She did not revile her accusers, cringe before them, or justify herself. I cannot find the words to describe her. Hawthorne did and his words filled me with admiration.

If Hester’s sentencing reminded me of the words of Christ, the remainder of her life reminded me of words of Abraham Lincoln: 

I have always found that mercy bears richer fruit than strict justice.

There is much grief and ruin in this tale. I wonder how different it would be had Hester received a measure of mercy.

This is a novel about over-harsh judgment, of human folly, over-zealous veneration of human piety, of legalism, sin, guilt, penance, repentance, hypocrisy and revenge. It is filled with foreshadowing and symbolism.

SPOILER ALERT: The following contains spoilers.

There are only four major characters: Hester; her daughter Pearl; the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale; and Roger Chillingworth. The reader learns that Dimmesdale is Pearl’s father, and Chillingworth is Hester’s husband, but the townsfolk are ignorant of both facts. They consider Rev. Dimmesdale a monument of piety and virtue. They believe Hester’s husband was lost at sea and have never known him. When he arrives, at the moment of Hester’s sentencing, he remains incognito and later, privately vows Hester to secrecy. She agrees, but refuses to reveal her co-sinner. Chillingworth swears to discover him and make him suffer justice.

The reader and Hester are the only ones who know the full truth. Pearl is capricious and insolent. She has almost a sixth sense that reveals the secret evils and fears hidden in the hearts of others, especially her mother, father, and Chillingworth. To be honest she was a bit unnerving, and rather unbelievable. In the most heartbreaking passage in the book, Hester tells Pearl that the Heavenly Father had sent Pearl to Hester. Pearl responds: 

He did not send me! Cried she, positively. I have no Heavenly Father!

Elsewhere, the narrative says: 

Pearl was a born outcast of the infantile world. An imp of evil, emblem and product of sin, she had no right among christened infants. Nothing was more remarkable than the instinct as it seemed, with which the child comprehended her loneliness: the whole peculiarity, in short, of her position in respect to other children.

One might expect to sympathize with Chillingworth, the wronged and innocent party, but no. Hawthorne is not explicit but it is clear that Chillingworth enticed Hester into a loveless and ill-advised marriage. Chillingworth himself acknowledges this and is not angry with Hester, only with her partner. While Chillingworth might have the right to exact justice, he seeks not justice, but revenge. He seeks it in such a dark and sinister manner that his physical visage is changed and becomes almost demonic. 

In a word, old Roger Chillingworth was a striking evidence of man’s faculty of transforming himself into a devil, if he will only, for a reasonable space of time, undertake a devil’s office.

Neither is Dimmesdale likeable or pitiable. He lives in the adoration of his flock, though this is torture to him. For though they consider him a miracle of holiness, he considers himself utterly a pollution and a lie! He longs to confess and share Hester’s shame, but does not until his death. It was too little – too late, in my opinion. He does have one shining moment. He finally takes the hand of Hester and Pearl in public to announce his guilt; but this is the least he should have done years before. The moment I referred to is when he prays for Chillingworth – his tormentor: 

May God forgive thee! Said the minister. Thou too hast deeply sinned! 

That was indeed Christ-like.

Pearl kissed his lips. A spell was broken. The great scene of grief, in which the wild infant bore a part had developed all her sympathies; and as her tears fell upon her father’s cheek, they were the pledge that she would grow up amid human joy and sorrow, nor forever do battle with the world, but be a woman in it. Towards her mother, too, Pearl’s errand as a messenger of anguish was fulfilled.

Narrative regarding Dimmesdale’s confession and death: 

…in the view of Infinite Purity, we are sinners all alike. It was to teach them, that the holiest amongst us has but attained so far above his fellows as to discern more clearly the Mercy which looks down, and repudiate more utterly the phantom of human merit, which would look aspiringly upward.

But it is only Hester that I liked. In short, she was more Christ-like than any of the fine Christian folk among whom she daily wore her shame. The Holy Scriptures name other sins besides adultery. Many of Hester’s townsfolk might have worn a scarlet P (for pride). It is because of Hester’s character that I enjoyed The Scarlet Letter so much. I suppose there are some who might call it an indictment of Christianity, but I do not. I believe it is an indictment of misguided Christianity. At that point, I still might be inclined to dislike this novel – if there were no Hester standing in sharp relief.

In the first chapter, Hawthorne foreshadows the moral of this story with a wild rose found growing outside Hester’s jailhouse: 

It may serve, let us hope, to symbolize some sweet moral blossom that may be found along the track, or relieve the darkening close of a tale of human frailty and sorrow.

Hester was the rose.

I would compare The Scarlet Letter to Wuthering Heights and The Count of Monte Cristo on the topic of revenge.  On the topic of adultery, I would compare it to Anna Karenina, Madame Bovary, The French Lieutenants Woman, and Jane Eyre.

Other excerpts:

Narrative regarding the townsfolk:

a people among whom religion and law were almost identical…

Narrative regarding Hester:

…the world was only the darker for this woman’s beauty, and the more lost for the infant that she had borne.

Hester

…my child must seek a heavenly father; she shall never know an earthly one!

Narrative regarding Pearl:

Her mother, while Pearl was yet an infant, grew acquainted with a certain peculiar look, that warned her when it would be labour thrown away to insist, persuade or plead.

Narrative regarding Rev Dimmesdale:

Trusting no man as his friend, he could not recognize his enemy when the latter actually appeared.

Hester’s words when after seven years she was told the magistrates were considering letting her remove the scarlet letter:

It lies not in the pleasure of the magistrates to take off the badge, calmly replied Hester. Were I worthy to be quit of it, it would fall away of its own nature, or be transformed into something that should speak a different purport.

Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless they win along with it the utmost passion of the heart!

Film Rendition: The 1995 film is awful. I won't name the stars because it wasn't their fault, and I won't name the director or screenwriter, to avoid being sued...but this is perhaps the worst film adaptation of a classic book I've seen. It does say in the opening credits "freely adapted" - that's an understatement. I don't have a problem with a director or writer making changes, even significant changes, if they capture the theme of the book - but this film entirely missed the point. DEFINITELY skip the film; read the book.

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