New Grub Street by George Gissing: Day 27
Chapter 27
Reardon’s reminiscence about the sunset in Athens and his complaint about the “public school-men, University men, club men, society men”: had he been born with money, at least he could be a rich mediocre writer. To be a poor writer of mediocre quality is rather a tragedy.
“Again and again work-girls have said to me: ‘Oh, I don’t like that book; it’s nothing but real life.’”
This reminds me of a conversation years ago with a high-school classmate, when I first began publishing in English. He said, “But do you know how to write about the rich and the aristocratic? No, then you’ll never become a real writer!”
Reardon, upon learning Amy’s of inheritance:
“Ah! if this had happened in the first year of his marriage, what more blessed man than he would have walked the earth!”
OMG. I really have very little respect for Reardon, whose meager imagination not only makes him a terrible fiction writer but also a terrible reader of life.
Join us on December 13 for a virtual discussion of New Grub Street with Yiyun Li.
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My soft spot for Biffen continues. Biffen's ironic realism, layered with his natural dignity, captured my heart, and made me want to weep simultaneously: “I don’t think I should be unhappy in the workhouse. I should have a certain satisfaction in the thought that I had forced society to support me. And then the absolute freedom from care! Why it’s very much the same as being a man of independent fortune."
My appreciation for Gissing's skill in creating complex characters that compel a reader to grapple with the shaping of a humane society, while living with dignity in an imperfect one increases daily.
I find it interesting that both Amy and Edwin justify their obstinate paths in opposite circumstances.
Amy's feelings of obligation to rejoin Edwin by sharing her windfall are driven by the pressures of her family situation and how she will appear socially. Her refusal to tell Edwin she loves him seems less like authenticity and more like staking out her place of power in the relationship, if there is to be a relationship.
Edwin forsakes his opportunity to live and work in comfort and perhaps restore his relationship with Amy and his son, romanticizing his isolation in poverty by resorting to intellectual gratifications and denouncing love, even as it's the one thing he demands from Amy.
Biffen, from his point of view (and ours?) sees tragic behavior on both sides, and metaphorically shakes his head at the slight changes required from each of them that could create a shared future with much more promise than the lives their transient pride destines them to.