I flagged this one as well. What could "happily buried" possibly mean? They were reluctant parents, and they are thankful to no longer be? They grieved their losses and have emerged on the other side? Or perhaps the children are the ones who are happily buried? They were ill and are now no longer suffering?
The women as writing machines struck me as well. Insight into a world very different from Austen and Bloomsbury. So much in todays reading about the failure the men have experienced and the pain of living with that sense of failure. And then....they cruelly blame so much on wives!
In comparison, Jasper's pure ambition seems almost refreshing, if cold, at the end. He does have concern for his sisters and his inability to make money fast enough for them.
And yet, Marian is hurt...and I wonder at the end of the chapter what she does in "those moments" between closing the door and returning to her mother.....
I imagined those moments between closing the door and returning to her mother were a pause in which she could collect herself amidst what I imagine is complete overwhelm. She has just shared a moment of intimacy with the man who has captured her interest, and the only two women who she can call friend are now moving closer. It is sometimes jarring to get what one wishes, no?
While the men's blaming of failure on their wives was cruel indeed, I had to chuckle (and grimace) at Gissing's audacity, his blasé tone and matter-of-fact categorization: "several were in the well-defined category of men with unpresentable wives."
I think Gissing may be being sarcastic in the wife blaming paragraph. When he says the men would have had to wait until they were 50 or 60 to meet more helpful wives, that seems to show he is dissing these guys who blame their wives for their own failures.
Wow that was quite a ride! From Alfred's shallow and despicable blaming of his wife for his failure - "look at Fadge. He married a woman of good social position ... I live here like an animal in its hole, and go blinking about if by chance I find myself on other people with whom I ought naturally to associate."
Then we get to see Marian at her lowest point, full of regret and doubt - "There was more good literature in the world than any mortal could cope within his lifetime, here was she exhausting herself in the manufacture of printed stuff which no one even pretended to be more than a commodity for the days market. What unspeakable folly!"
And finally Jasper, bringing the news of his mother's death, lights up Marian's world both figuratively and literally (he stokes the fire - "this vulgar necessity...")
I was so impressed and pleased by Jaspers honest self-assessments, and then when Marian showed some excitement in her voice, "Jasper looked full into her face." Love that.
It doesn’t feel like he’s leading her on to me - as I reread that scene at the end, Jasper seems unfiltered, both expressing his desire for material advancement, and his desire that they remain friends. It would certainly be different if she were speaking as freely as he was!
I agree. It liked Jasper for the first time. He is capable of sincerity and reflection. He makes it clear when he says he won't let anything get in the way of his material advancement that he can't court her. And she gets it.
Thinking of Marian's hurt and Milvain's ambition relating to each other — perhaps foreshadowing that Jasper will capitalize on misfortune - the loss of annuity (and a part of himself) must lead somewhere.
Also, in this chapter, we don't really get much information about Milvain's article in The Current. What was it about? Was success merely finding a publisher? And, for Marian, "emphasis was not her habit" — yet her emotions are so loud and clear. Could it be true that the more we try to hide, the more it shows? Can understatement, skillfully employed by certain writers, be a potent type of emphasis?
Jasper will capitalize on whatever comes along, it seems.
Your comment prompted me too speculate that Marian might find success doing her own work, based on her musing "To write - was that not the joy and the privilege of one who had an urgent message for the world?"
Funny, I went back to the text, because I couldn't recall this line...and within context, the irony of this line is really fascinating. She doesn't think of her father as "one who had an urgent message for the world," so her beginning to question his authority opens up more interpretative possibilities, because I don't think she has anything urgent to say, either...and yet, does anybody truly?
Jasper turns out to be a more likeable fellow than in the early pages. And for Marian he represents more than one possible pathway out of her father's awful suffocating oppression. His frank 'It was not really Mr Yule I wished to see' is lovely.
The fabled London "fog" is just smoke trapped in temperature inversion phenomena that turns buildings "dusky yellow" in broad daylight and makes everyone cough cough cough, a reason for the shorter life spans then.
The "Great Stink" was 1858 but there were a few major outbreaks of cholera in London. People thought it was the smell that was getting people sick but it was the water. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Stink
"She was not a woman, but a mere machine for reading and writing. Did her father never think of this? He was not the only one to suffer from the circumstances in which poverty had involved". If Yule is Mr Casaubon (from Middlemarch), is Marian Dorthea? Both novels deal heavily with the intersectionality between class, custom, economics, and sexism.
I'm not sure there's a more devastating critique of literature (and writers) as a commodity and a more accurate description of AI
‘Literary Machine’;* had it then been invented at last, some automaton to supply the place of such poor creatures as herself, to turn out books and articles? ... surely before long some Edison* would make the true automaton; the problem must be comparatively such a simple one. Only to throw in a given number of old books, and have them reduced, blended, modernised into a single one for to-day’s consumption."
So true. It's all about the money and the sore losers will cast blame everywhere. Like Jasper, Mark Twain was comically obsessed with making money and yet (unlike Jasper so far) wrote great literature but there were those who thought even he was a hack..
"Money is God. God and Greenbacks and Stock--father, son, and the ghost of same--three persons in one; these are the true and only God, mighty and supreme.." (Mark Twain) Sounds like Jasper, doesn't it!
Comically, here is a line from an 1885 review of Huckleberry Finn. You wonder what happened to that critic. Would Alfred with his superior attitude write a review like this?
"But what can be said of a man of Mr. Clemens’s wit, ability and position deliberately imposing upon an unoffending public a piece of careless hackwork in which a few good things are dropped amid a mass of rubbish, and concerning which he finds it necessary to give notice that ‘persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot’?”
Apologies if this has been addressed already; and highly likely i missed something. But the author addresses the reader in this chapter with something like a "as you know" or "as you well remember." I think it happened in another chapter as well (apologies, I'm on Audible with this book so hard to go back and find the sections). Do we know what perspective the narrator has here and who they are?
I was also wondering about this. The narrator addresses the reader in 2nd person occasionally and otherwise seems like an omniscient guide between scenes.
I have found these authorial intrusions and direct addresses much more common in 19th century literature (and before?) than they are today. At first, I used to flag them and wonder about them. Now, I chalk them up to a sign of the times. Perhaps we should be asking why they fell by the wayside? I rather like them!
Loved this from Jasper to Marian: "If I were rich, I should be a generous and good man; I know I should." He seems both aware as to how awful a person he is, and completely unaware.
Yes, I still don't expect much from Jasper (with regard to generosity), but I did appreciate that he responds with reflective feeling to his mother's death and is working to help his sisters. He is like the successful novelist (whose "dwelling" and "person smelt of money"), who helps Reardon get a ticket to the reading room: "he was so happy himself that he could afford to be kind to others." He won't go out of his way, but a simple favor in his power will be readily and cheerfully done.
Alfred Yule: “When you think of my failures - and you must often do so now you are grown up and understand things - don’t forget the obstacles that have been in my way.” Marian Yule: “She kept asking herself what was the use and purpose of such a life as she was condemned to lead.” To me, each of the characters in New Grub Street is at a different stage in their writing career and most of them seem to be destined for tragedy in some way (except maybe Jasper? We’ll see). But why? Is it more to do with writing itself? With the publishing environment? With their approach and attitude to life? The tension between needing to make money and friends in the world and chase after something or someone you love?
A brutal and tender chapter. Giggling over the wonderful Industrial Revolution-era adjectives & adverbs: “bilious headaches,” “warm, headachy air,” “they talked scrappily, coughily.” The fog, soot, and dying embers a funny backdrop to the labor of writing, where one’s hands were mostly unbruised but one’s spirit was factory-worn....
Nicely said and very apt. Marian does have a factory-worn spirit. And given the "mirth-subdual" of the Reading room and the "Reading room cough," it really does seem like a factory there. Also, so many of these chapters are brutal and tender. I feel those are just the words.
And they say you can't mix metaphors. I found the mixed metaphors Gissing uses to describe Marian's depression in the reading room so powerful. He goes from the weather ("fog...dusky yellow") to hell ("likened him to a black, lost soul, doomed to wander in an eternity") to prey ("what were [the readers] but hapless flies caught in the a huge web") to prison ("the book-lined circumference of the room would be but a featureless prison-limit").
"But it is so seldom that situations in life arrange themselves with dramatic propriety; and, after all, this vulgar necessity made the beginning of the conversation easier." Yes, real life is so vulgar compared to literature. Are we lovers of literature, then, destined to be perpetually dissatisfied with real life?
A ponder-worthy description: “It was ignoble to sit here and support the paltry presence of intellectual dignity” (96). The “paltry presence of intellectual dignity” simply rolls off the tongue, as if slithering its way toward extinction? Hmmm. Quite a contrast to Mrs. Hinks [who] “still spoke the laundress tongue, unmitigated and immitigable.” Oh, the horror! Where is intellectual dignity to be found?
If she does end up with him, she has been forwarned. Just like Reardon told Amy about his weaknesses and insecurity. I see red flags here.
What a sad ending to the opening paragraph of today's reading: "They had had three children; all were happily buried."
That “happily” is provocative.
Absolutely jarring; and I made a mental note of that one for sure.
I flagged this one as well. What could "happily buried" possibly mean? They were reluctant parents, and they are thankful to no longer be? They grieved their losses and have emerged on the other side? Or perhaps the children are the ones who are happily buried? They were ill and are now no longer suffering?
I paused here too. You perfectly articulated all my musings!
Mine too. Or perhaps the children are better off dead than growing up with the prospects they would have? This book is frightfully frank.
Yes, "frightfully frank" captures Gissing's tone, indeed!
The women as writing machines struck me as well. Insight into a world very different from Austen and Bloomsbury. So much in todays reading about the failure the men have experienced and the pain of living with that sense of failure. And then....they cruelly blame so much on wives!
In comparison, Jasper's pure ambition seems almost refreshing, if cold, at the end. He does have concern for his sisters and his inability to make money fast enough for them.
And yet, Marian is hurt...and I wonder at the end of the chapter what she does in "those moments" between closing the door and returning to her mother.....
I know! Jasper is like a breath of fresh air in this chapter. I like the image of him stoking Marian's fire.
I imagined those moments between closing the door and returning to her mother were a pause in which she could collect herself amidst what I imagine is complete overwhelm. She has just shared a moment of intimacy with the man who has captured her interest, and the only two women who she can call friend are now moving closer. It is sometimes jarring to get what one wishes, no?
While the men's blaming of failure on their wives was cruel indeed, I had to chuckle (and grimace) at Gissing's audacity, his blasé tone and matter-of-fact categorization: "several were in the well-defined category of men with unpresentable wives."
I think Gissing may be being sarcastic in the wife blaming paragraph. When he says the men would have had to wait until they were 50 or 60 to meet more helpful wives, that seems to show he is dissing these guys who blame their wives for their own failures.
good point. the sarcasm is there in his writing. another question, how surprisingly funny is gissing? I have a grin as I read.
Agreed. Gissing appears a master at sardonic wit!
gissing can be quite cutting! didn't he compare someone to an old turnip in previous pages?!
Their face!
Wow that was quite a ride! From Alfred's shallow and despicable blaming of his wife for his failure - "look at Fadge. He married a woman of good social position ... I live here like an animal in its hole, and go blinking about if by chance I find myself on other people with whom I ought naturally to associate."
Then we get to see Marian at her lowest point, full of regret and doubt - "There was more good literature in the world than any mortal could cope within his lifetime, here was she exhausting herself in the manufacture of printed stuff which no one even pretended to be more than a commodity for the days market. What unspeakable folly!"
And finally Jasper, bringing the news of his mother's death, lights up Marian's world both figuratively and literally (he stokes the fire - "this vulgar necessity...")
I was so impressed and pleased by Jaspers honest self-assessments, and then when Marian showed some excitement in her voice, "Jasper looked full into her face." Love that.
It doesn’t feel like he’s leading her on to me - as I reread that scene at the end, Jasper seems unfiltered, both expressing his desire for material advancement, and his desire that they remain friends. It would certainly be different if she were speaking as freely as he was!
I concur. I didn't think he was leading her on. I thought for the first time we are seeing Jasper in a moment of vulnerable authenticity.
I agree. It liked Jasper for the first time. He is capable of sincerity and reflection. He makes it clear when he says he won't let anything get in the way of his material advancement that he can't court her. And she gets it.
Thinking of Marian's hurt and Milvain's ambition relating to each other — perhaps foreshadowing that Jasper will capitalize on misfortune - the loss of annuity (and a part of himself) must lead somewhere.
Also, in this chapter, we don't really get much information about Milvain's article in The Current. What was it about? Was success merely finding a publisher? And, for Marian, "emphasis was not her habit" — yet her emotions are so loud and clear. Could it be true that the more we try to hide, the more it shows? Can understatement, skillfully employed by certain writers, be a potent type of emphasis?
Jasper will capitalize on whatever comes along, it seems.
Your comment prompted me too speculate that Marian might find success doing her own work, based on her musing "To write - was that not the joy and the privilege of one who had an urgent message for the world?"
Funny, I went back to the text, because I couldn't recall this line...and within context, the irony of this line is really fascinating. She doesn't think of her father as "one who had an urgent message for the world," so her beginning to question his authority opens up more interpretative possibilities, because I don't think she has anything urgent to say, either...and yet, does anybody truly?
That's a great point! I didn't think of it, but now I'm curious too. What was the supposed mishmash Jasper was writing, I'd like more details...
i love understatement, esp. the english version.
Jasper turns out to be a more likeable fellow than in the early pages. And for Marian he represents more than one possible pathway out of her father's awful suffocating oppression. His frank 'It was not really Mr Yule I wished to see' is lovely.
The fabled London "fog" is just smoke trapped in temperature inversion phenomena that turns buildings "dusky yellow" in broad daylight and makes everyone cough cough cough, a reason for the shorter life spans then.
The "Great Stink" was 1858 but there were a few major outbreaks of cholera in London. People thought it was the smell that was getting people sick but it was the water. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Stink
agreed. His machavelian frankness seems appropriate for the times. Even refreshing compared to the sulky Readon and passive aggressive Yule.
"She was not a woman, but a mere machine for reading and writing. Did her father never think of this? He was not the only one to suffer from the circumstances in which poverty had involved". If Yule is Mr Casaubon (from Middlemarch), is Marian Dorthea? Both novels deal heavily with the intersectionality between class, custom, economics, and sexism.
I'm not sure there's a more devastating critique of literature (and writers) as a commodity and a more accurate description of AI
‘Literary Machine’;* had it then been invented at last, some automaton to supply the place of such poor creatures as herself, to turn out books and articles? ... surely before long some Edison* would make the true automaton; the problem must be comparatively such a simple one. Only to throw in a given number of old books, and have them reduced, blended, modernised into a single one for to-day’s consumption."
Didn’t think of AI...interesting!
Immediately thought of AI...so much prescience in this book!
I, too, immediately thought of AI. So prescient!
Readers Digest! Cliff Notes!
So true. It's all about the money and the sore losers will cast blame everywhere. Like Jasper, Mark Twain was comically obsessed with making money and yet (unlike Jasper so far) wrote great literature but there were those who thought even he was a hack..
"Money is God. God and Greenbacks and Stock--father, son, and the ghost of same--three persons in one; these are the true and only God, mighty and supreme.." (Mark Twain) Sounds like Jasper, doesn't it!
Comically, here is a line from an 1885 review of Huckleberry Finn. You wonder what happened to that critic. Would Alfred with his superior attitude write a review like this?
"But what can be said of a man of Mr. Clemens’s wit, ability and position deliberately imposing upon an unoffending public a piece of careless hackwork in which a few good things are dropped amid a mass of rubbish, and concerning which he finds it necessary to give notice that ‘persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot’?”
–The New York World, March 7, 1885
“Careless hackwork” and the rest. Such a helpful insight to the time.......wow.
the Twain review could have been written by Mr. Fadge!
Apologies if this has been addressed already; and highly likely i missed something. But the author addresses the reader in this chapter with something like a "as you know" or "as you well remember." I think it happened in another chapter as well (apologies, I'm on Audible with this book so hard to go back and find the sections). Do we know what perspective the narrator has here and who they are?
That occurred to me, too, especially since it doesn’t seem to fit with what seems to vary between omniscient narrator and limited perspective.
I was also wondering about this. The narrator addresses the reader in 2nd person occasionally and otherwise seems like an omniscient guide between scenes.
Thank you both Mark and Alice. Glad I'm not losing it or missed something.
you are not. yeah, there are a couple of short first person exclamations.
I have found these authorial intrusions and direct addresses much more common in 19th century literature (and before?) than they are today. At first, I used to flag them and wonder about them. Now, I chalk them up to a sign of the times. Perhaps we should be asking why they fell by the wayside? I rather like them!
Me too, it's inviting and familiar.
Loved this from Jasper to Marian: "If I were rich, I should be a generous and good man; I know I should." He seems both aware as to how awful a person he is, and completely unaware.
Yes, I still don't expect much from Jasper (with regard to generosity), but I did appreciate that he responds with reflective feeling to his mother's death and is working to help his sisters. He is like the successful novelist (whose "dwelling" and "person smelt of money"), who helps Reardon get a ticket to the reading room: "he was so happy himself that he could afford to be kind to others." He won't go out of his way, but a simple favor in his power will be readily and cheerfully done.
Alfred Yule: “When you think of my failures - and you must often do so now you are grown up and understand things - don’t forget the obstacles that have been in my way.” Marian Yule: “She kept asking herself what was the use and purpose of such a life as she was condemned to lead.” To me, each of the characters in New Grub Street is at a different stage in their writing career and most of them seem to be destined for tragedy in some way (except maybe Jasper? We’ll see). But why? Is it more to do with writing itself? With the publishing environment? With their approach and attitude to life? The tension between needing to make money and friends in the world and chase after something or someone you love?
I'm still holding out hope for some happy endings! I'm a pessimist in real life, but do love a happy ending in literature.
A brutal and tender chapter. Giggling over the wonderful Industrial Revolution-era adjectives & adverbs: “bilious headaches,” “warm, headachy air,” “they talked scrappily, coughily.” The fog, soot, and dying embers a funny backdrop to the labor of writing, where one’s hands were mostly unbruised but one’s spirit was factory-worn....
Nicely said and very apt. Marian does have a factory-worn spirit. And given the "mirth-subdual" of the Reading room and the "Reading room cough," it really does seem like a factory there. Also, so many of these chapters are brutal and tender. I feel those are just the words.
And they say you can't mix metaphors. I found the mixed metaphors Gissing uses to describe Marian's depression in the reading room so powerful. He goes from the weather ("fog...dusky yellow") to hell ("likened him to a black, lost soul, doomed to wander in an eternity") to prey ("what were [the readers] but hapless flies caught in the a huge web") to prison ("the book-lined circumference of the room would be but a featureless prison-limit").
"But it is so seldom that situations in life arrange themselves with dramatic propriety; and, after all, this vulgar necessity made the beginning of the conversation easier." Yes, real life is so vulgar compared to literature. Are we lovers of literature, then, destined to be perpetually dissatisfied with real life?
i am always pleasantly surprised by life because i try to live as much as possible in literature.
A ponder-worthy description: “It was ignoble to sit here and support the paltry presence of intellectual dignity” (96). The “paltry presence of intellectual dignity” simply rolls off the tongue, as if slithering its way toward extinction? Hmmm. Quite a contrast to Mrs. Hinks [who] “still spoke the laundress tongue, unmitigated and immitigable.” Oh, the horror! Where is intellectual dignity to be found?