"'Now if this isn't too bad!' he exclaimed in a thick voice. 'If this isn't monstrously unkind! I never heard anything so gross as this—never!' The two waited, trying not to smile."
Schadenfreude? Actually, this was Welpale's karma, wasn't it? Yes, admit it. We've all been in the situation of Edwin and Biden before, trying not to smile at someone's misfortune.
I loved this chapter too (the nuanced "realities" of being in/of the world)! Despite Reardon's and Biffen's contrasting personalities, they find comfort with each other; their refreshing authenticity (together) and genuine connection/friendship offer a wisp of hope in a harsh world:
“If this fails I think – upon my soul, I think I shall kill myself.”
“Pooh!” exclaimed Biffen, gently. “With a wife like yours?”
Biffen makes me smile in his clear-sighted self-assessment, and sincerity:
“I felt myself too seedy in appearance to stop and speak.” / “What position? No school would take me. I have neither credentials nor conventional clothing.” / “He ate his bread and dripping with knife and fork; this always made the fare seem more substantial.” / “Whenever he heard of a poor man’s persuading a woman to share his poverty he was eager of details; perchance he himself might yet have that heavenly good fortune.”
i love the pairing of credentials nor conventional clothing. And the title of his novel, "Mr. Bailey, Grocer". Have you ever heard of a better futurist retrospective title?
A fantastic pairing, indeed! "I have neither credentials nor conventional clothing" was my favorite sentence in this chapter; it made me pause, chuckle, and ponder.
An interesting chapter. It summarizes much of what has gone before. Reardon has been aiming high and missing, Biffen and Baker have lowered their aim and found happiness ( or, at least, contentment). We return to earth with a thud at the end of the chapter with failures in both love and work. All done in high style. And so, on with the story.
“It’s love’s illusions I recall-I really don’t know love at all.”-Joni Mitchell. Every generation has its tales of romantic woes. The practical Welpdale is scammed without the aid of the internet. The story even includes a double-cross and a consumptive heroine. I thought that 19th century publishers encouraged authors to marry off women for a happy ending, but we’ll see where this book leads us.
Personal goal after reading this chapter: to regain a healthy appetite. Someone who knows lack for so long has to readjust to the world’s plenty. Thinking also of conspiracy -- and what overthinking in 1891 would look like compared to say the worlds depicted in the movies The Conversation or the Manchurian Candidate, after the telephone and televisual revolutions.
Though I enjoyed this chapter, I wondered if its significance lies in world-building (shifting the kaleidoscope so the reader can see more patterns of poverty in the literary world) or in narrative (ratcheting up the tension). Certainly, the book rejection moves the narrative forward, but Gissing could have easily included those few lines at the start of the next chapter. Which left me wondering: Will the inner story of Whelpdale's woes prove important to the narrative, either in and of itself or as foreshadowing?
Since we're talking language today: "[Margaret Home's] brevity, and the fact that nothing more was aimed at than a concatenation of brisk events, made it not unreadable." I love a well-placed double-negative!
It's an excruciating contrast of Reardan with his pauper pals pursuing publication (sorry! ;)
Here they are, eking out optimism and fantasizing about matrimony, while Edwin is in precisely the opposite position.
Biffen is excited about his hyperrealistic portrayal of a local grocer and Whelpdale is confident about his guide for writers, in which he gives advice that we suspect Edwin could use. "...it would amuse you vastly, Reardan. The first lesson deals with the question of subjects, local colour..." this following the painful assessment of a 'notice' Edwin had read in the daily papers - "... the novel contained not a single striking scene and not one living character..."
Biffen: “The thing’ll take me a year at least. I shall do it slowly, lovingly. One volume, of course; the length of the ordinary French novel.”
Reardon: “You have the right fire in you; you have the zeal and energy.”
I can understand in their interactions how Reardon wants to be like Biffen, but cannot, in part, because of Amy. I can also understand how Reardon became used to a certain lifestyle being an author and doesn’t have many other options for making the same amount of money.
But he also continues to be frozen, paralyzed, self-condemned: “it was as though his mind could do nothing more than grasp the bald fact of impending destitution; with the steps towards that final stage he seemed to have little concern.”
Starving artist -- I thought it was just a romanticization. This novel is so gritty. That poor girl who felt forced to marry Whelpdale. Maybe, she will write the great novel that I am hoping will turn up.
Biffen does delight. I don't know that I'd want to share his poverty, but I'd happily have him as a friend. He is an honest tutor too, taking on only those he feels have a real shot at their goals. "'To be sure that's a point I have often to consider," he tells Reardon, "and once or twice my delicacy has asserted itself at the expense of my pocket." How many would consider it at all? His story of the young consumptive man who wants to learn Latin to get into London University is heartbreaking. The man is dying, and Biffen is choking on the food bought with his money.
Whelpdale is an amusing addition (what a name!), though he doesn't make the best first impression with his faint, obligatory praise of Reardon's book--"Uncommonly good things in it here and there...one or two things as good as you ever did." Sometimes it really is better just to say nothing. His "literary advisership" and "Novel-writing taught in ten lessons" could be taken from the dozen or more emails I get every week from various entities marketing just such services and classes. I had no idea this industry existed pre-20th century.
Also frightfully familiar: "Two publishers had refused it, but one with complimentary phrases..." and the rendering of Reardon's rejection, "the first word that caught his attention was regret...He hoped it would be understood that, in declining, he by no means expressed an adverse judgment on the story itself, &c." &c, indeed. Really, after "regret," it's all just noise.
“he could not command his emotions. He was in passionate revolt against the base necessities which compelled him to put forth work in no way representing his healthy powers, his artistic criterion. Not he had written this book, but his accursed poverty." - Is anyone else reminded of Jude from Hardy’s “Jude the Obscure” carving church saying which he no longer believes into stone just to support himself?
Gissing’s balance of dialogue, character, and movement in this chapter is impressive. Suicidal but suddenly socialable Reardon visits Biffen and then Whelpdale. There is much on the same obsessive topics: marriage, money, and writing. I say obsessive as a compliment; I like how this novel stays so focused.
Even if Whelpdale doesn’t return as a character, he serves as counterpoint to both Milvain and Biffen. Like Milvain, Whelpdale is preoccupied with making an insincere buck off writing and marrying his “ideal” woman, those his ideal is focused on the physical ideal whereas Milvain’s ideal is a wealthy woman. Like Biffen, Whelpdale is aware of his poverty but Whelpdale is not afraid to try to get married (this is his fifth attempt) and not afraid to present himself to the parts of society that may give him some renumeration.
I worry in a good way for the idealists in the world of this novel. Biffen and Reardon care so sincerely about what they do. Neither the “vulgar” society or the middle class society in the world of this this novel care about deep learning or meaning.
There are two ways to be free in the "New Grub St" world. One is through economic freedom. The other is the total opposite - "chosen" by Biden "He thought of Biffen enviously. Biffen, if need be, could support life on three or four shillings a week, happy in the thought that no mortal had a claim upon him. If he starved to death — well, many another lonely man has come to that end. If he preferred to kill himself, who would be distressed? Spoilt child of fortune!"
"'Now if this isn't too bad!' he exclaimed in a thick voice. 'If this isn't monstrously unkind! I never heard anything so gross as this—never!' The two waited, trying not to smile."
Schadenfreude? Actually, this was Welpale's karma, wasn't it? Yes, admit it. We've all been in the situation of Edwin and Biden before, trying not to smile at someone's misfortune.
I loved this chapter too (the nuanced "realities" of being in/of the world)! Despite Reardon's and Biffen's contrasting personalities, they find comfort with each other; their refreshing authenticity (together) and genuine connection/friendship offer a wisp of hope in a harsh world:
“If this fails I think – upon my soul, I think I shall kill myself.”
“Pooh!” exclaimed Biffen, gently. “With a wife like yours?”
“Just because of that.”
A well-placed “gently” makes all the difference.
Biffen makes me smile in his clear-sighted self-assessment, and sincerity:
“I felt myself too seedy in appearance to stop and speak.” / “What position? No school would take me. I have neither credentials nor conventional clothing.” / “He ate his bread and dripping with knife and fork; this always made the fare seem more substantial.” / “Whenever he heard of a poor man’s persuading a woman to share his poverty he was eager of details; perchance he himself might yet have that heavenly good fortune.”
Ahh, it is impossible not to love Biffen!
i love the pairing of credentials nor conventional clothing. And the title of his novel, "Mr. Bailey, Grocer". Have you ever heard of a better futurist retrospective title?
A fantastic pairing, indeed! "I have neither credentials nor conventional clothing" was my favorite sentence in this chapter; it made me pause, chuckle, and ponder.
An interesting chapter. It summarizes much of what has gone before. Reardon has been aiming high and missing, Biffen and Baker have lowered their aim and found happiness ( or, at least, contentment). We return to earth with a thud at the end of the chapter with failures in both love and work. All done in high style. And so, on with the story.
“It’s love’s illusions I recall-I really don’t know love at all.”-Joni Mitchell. Every generation has its tales of romantic woes. The practical Welpdale is scammed without the aid of the internet. The story even includes a double-cross and a consumptive heroine. I thought that 19th century publishers encouraged authors to marry off women for a happy ending, but we’ll see where this book leads us.
Personal goal after reading this chapter: to regain a healthy appetite. Someone who knows lack for so long has to readjust to the world’s plenty. Thinking also of conspiracy -- and what overthinking in 1891 would look like compared to say the worlds depicted in the movies The Conversation or the Manchurian Candidate, after the telephone and televisual revolutions.
Though I enjoyed this chapter, I wondered if its significance lies in world-building (shifting the kaleidoscope so the reader can see more patterns of poverty in the literary world) or in narrative (ratcheting up the tension). Certainly, the book rejection moves the narrative forward, but Gissing could have easily included those few lines at the start of the next chapter. Which left me wondering: Will the inner story of Whelpdale's woes prove important to the narrative, either in and of itself or as foreshadowing?
Since we're talking language today: "[Margaret Home's] brevity, and the fact that nothing more was aimed at than a concatenation of brisk events, made it not unreadable." I love a well-placed double-negative!
The idea of "shifting the kaleidoscope so the reader can see more patterns of poverty in the literary world" is intriguing -- and feels spot on!
Yes - that's an interesting thought, why is that story with Whelpdale there? I'm interested to see if it's a commentary on Amy somehow...
This pithy bit of dialogue captures my heart – and Biffen’s essence (his heart):
“What’s the idea?”
“An objectionable word, that. Better say: ‘What’s the reality?’”
And, for a moment we glimpse Reardon’s (hidden/essential) heart:
“I envy you, old fellow. You have the right fire in you; you have zeal and energy.”
I appreciate the "innocence" of Biffen's belief in essential "truth," embedded in "reality." If only ...
A great exchange....
It's an excruciating contrast of Reardan with his pauper pals pursuing publication (sorry! ;)
Here they are, eking out optimism and fantasizing about matrimony, while Edwin is in precisely the opposite position.
Biffen is excited about his hyperrealistic portrayal of a local grocer and Whelpdale is confident about his guide for writers, in which he gives advice that we suspect Edwin could use. "...it would amuse you vastly, Reardan. The first lesson deals with the question of subjects, local colour..." this following the painful assessment of a 'notice' Edwin had read in the daily papers - "... the novel contained not a single striking scene and not one living character..."
Biffen: “The thing’ll take me a year at least. I shall do it slowly, lovingly. One volume, of course; the length of the ordinary French novel.”
Reardon: “You have the right fire in you; you have the zeal and energy.”
I can understand in their interactions how Reardon wants to be like Biffen, but cannot, in part, because of Amy. I can also understand how Reardon became used to a certain lifestyle being an author and doesn’t have many other options for making the same amount of money.
But he also continues to be frozen, paralyzed, self-condemned: “it was as though his mind could do nothing more than grasp the bald fact of impending destitution; with the steps towards that final stage he seemed to have little concern.”
Starving artist -- I thought it was just a romanticization. This novel is so gritty. That poor girl who felt forced to marry Whelpdale. Maybe, she will write the great novel that I am hoping will turn up.
Biffen does delight. I don't know that I'd want to share his poverty, but I'd happily have him as a friend. He is an honest tutor too, taking on only those he feels have a real shot at their goals. "'To be sure that's a point I have often to consider," he tells Reardon, "and once or twice my delicacy has asserted itself at the expense of my pocket." How many would consider it at all? His story of the young consumptive man who wants to learn Latin to get into London University is heartbreaking. The man is dying, and Biffen is choking on the food bought with his money.
Whelpdale is an amusing addition (what a name!), though he doesn't make the best first impression with his faint, obligatory praise of Reardon's book--"Uncommonly good things in it here and there...one or two things as good as you ever did." Sometimes it really is better just to say nothing. His "literary advisership" and "Novel-writing taught in ten lessons" could be taken from the dozen or more emails I get every week from various entities marketing just such services and classes. I had no idea this industry existed pre-20th century.
Also frightfully familiar: "Two publishers had refused it, but one with complimentary phrases..." and the rendering of Reardon's rejection, "the first word that caught his attention was regret...He hoped it would be understood that, in declining, he by no means expressed an adverse judgment on the story itself, &c." &c, indeed. Really, after "regret," it's all just noise.
“he could not command his emotions. He was in passionate revolt against the base necessities which compelled him to put forth work in no way representing his healthy powers, his artistic criterion. Not he had written this book, but his accursed poverty." - Is anyone else reminded of Jude from Hardy’s “Jude the Obscure” carving church saying which he no longer believes into stone just to support himself?
Gissing’s balance of dialogue, character, and movement in this chapter is impressive. Suicidal but suddenly socialable Reardon visits Biffen and then Whelpdale. There is much on the same obsessive topics: marriage, money, and writing. I say obsessive as a compliment; I like how this novel stays so focused.
Even if Whelpdale doesn’t return as a character, he serves as counterpoint to both Milvain and Biffen. Like Milvain, Whelpdale is preoccupied with making an insincere buck off writing and marrying his “ideal” woman, those his ideal is focused on the physical ideal whereas Milvain’s ideal is a wealthy woman. Like Biffen, Whelpdale is aware of his poverty but Whelpdale is not afraid to try to get married (this is his fifth attempt) and not afraid to present himself to the parts of society that may give him some renumeration.
I worry in a good way for the idealists in the world of this novel. Biffen and Reardon care so sincerely about what they do. Neither the “vulgar” society or the middle class society in the world of this this novel care about deep learning or meaning.
There are two ways to be free in the "New Grub St" world. One is through economic freedom. The other is the total opposite - "chosen" by Biden "He thought of Biffen enviously. Biffen, if need be, could support life on three or four shillings a week, happy in the thought that no mortal had a claim upon him. If he starved to death — well, many another lonely man has come to that end. If he preferred to kill himself, who would be distressed? Spoilt child of fortune!"