Saturday, January 29, 2011

The Way We Live Now

   Published in 1875, The Way We Live Now is considered by many to be Anthony Trollope’s greatest novel.  Its scathing satire reveals the author’s deep disillusionment with British society in the late Victorian era.  The majority of his characters are shallow, vapid, and easily manipulated by shrewd operators.  Trollope’s more clever characters, though in the minority, dominate the characters around them, and indeed dominate the story itself with their colorful schemes, their wicked triumphs, and their infamous failures.  The Way We Live Now is a satire, astutely observing the clash of the old and new in British society and poking fun at both sides throughout the story.  The novel itself is good, with delightfully and surprisingly modern plot twists, but its Trollope’s characters that drive this story and ultimately distinguish it as a great novel.
The Way We Live NowWritten by Anthony Trollope
Pages: 766
Ranked: 26 of 100
   The novel itself tells many stories--love stories, stories of ambition and greed, and, most interestingly, the story of several families striving to better their status in London society.  The Grendalls and the Longestaffes, two such families, are intent upon keeping up appearances; despite their great financial strains, both families maintain houses in the country and in town simply because it befits their status in society.  The young men persist in hunting and riding, as well as recklessly drinking and gambling at their clubs.  Despite their lack of funds, none of the major characters are engaged in any sort of profitable trade--one or two maintain a seat in Parliament and many sit on the board of directors for a fictional Mexican-American railroad, but no one in the novel actually works.  Among this level of society, to maintain an actual trade was considered un-gentlemanlike; furthermore, engaging in any type of work was to essentially lower one’s status.  Many families instead sought to attach themselves to families with greater wealth.  It is this situation that the great financier Augustus Melmotte, Trollope’s most colorful character, worked to exploit for his own gain.  
   Arriving from Paris with millions in “new money,” Melmotte sought to elevate his own status within London society by attaching his family to the old aristocratic families like the Grendalls and the Longestaffes.  To accomplish this, Melmotte virtually auctions his daughter off, selling her not to the bidder with the most money, but to the bachelor with the highest rank.  Initially, Melmotte is forced to work hard to win over society; he hosts grand parties, inviting the crème de la crème of London society, but he is so coarse and uncouth that he is not permitted to converse with his guests.  In time, however, rumors of his vast wealth combine with several families’ need for money and Melmotte becomes the most celebrated figure in London.  Despite personally loathing the man and the general class of “new money,” the novel’s aristocrats are forced to ingratiate themselves to Melmotte, becoming toadies in his retinue.  Melmotte employs many of these gentlemen as his secretaries, lording over them as he enjoys his new status.  He meets foreign royalty, entertains the Chinese Emperor, and wins a seat in Parliament.  Melmotte rises to such great heights that it becomes inevitable that he, like the fabled Icarus, is destroyed by his own need to ascend higher and higher.
   The storyline surrounding Melmotte is fascinating and entertaining.  Melmotte is an intriguing figure, at once both ignorant and clever.  His lack of understanding of British society makes him coarse and unappealing, but his insight into human nature allows him to easily manipulate those around him.  Trollope describes Melmotte and his schemes with an ironic tone, frequently hinting at his own disillusionment in a society that allowed men like Melmotte to rise to grandeur.  It’s often hard to tell whom Trollope despised more: men like Melmotte, or the men and women whom Melmotte so easily defrauds.  Most remarkable, however, is the timelessness of this storyline.  Though it is set in Victorian England, Melmotte and his contemporaries could easily find their counterparts in today’s world, a world which saw Bernie Madoff rise and fall in similar fashion.  Furthermore, Melmotte is a great character because though he is a caricature, he is a believable one; the reader can easily picture him in a modern New York or Washington office, deftly entrapping modern elites in elaborate investment schemes.  
The scholar in my couldn't resist underlining
or marking my favorite lines and passages
   While Melmotte’s story arc is the most interesting for its timelessness, the historian in me is compelled by the situation of women in Trollope’s novel.  Like many women of the era, Marie Melmotte is betrothed by her father to a British aristocrat for whom she has no feelings or attachment.  Throughout the novel, Marie is pursued by several young men who dislike her person but are greatly attracted to her fortune.  Marie’s engagement to a Lord Nidderdale resembles more of a financial transaction than an actual courtship, a practice that was fairly common in history.  Similarly, another character, Georgiana Longestaffe, engages herself to a man more than twice her age solely because he was financially well off.  Despite being repulsed by the man’s religion and appearance, Georgiana is driven by a fear of spinsterhood and poverty to accept an offer from a man whom she dislikes.  In several instances throughout the novel, Trollope’s female characters sacrifice personal happiness to suit certain monetary needs.  In many ways, this makes the women of The Way We Live Now the most sympathetic characters--the young men blithely ignore their responsibilities in favor of gambling and gaiety, thus compelling the women to step in and remedy the situation through a profitable marriage.  Excepting Melmotte, the women are also the most interesting and artful characters of the novel.  Trollope’s female characters demonstrate greater personal growth and strength than do their male counterparts.  One or two men redeem themselves, but overwhelmingly it is the women who dominate the pages with their strong personalities, their difficult situations, and, ultimately, their graceful handling of their affairs.
   The Way We Live Now is a great novel because, through satire, Trollope portrays society in a harsh, but honest light.  While many of his characters are caricatures of all that Trollope despised in British society, his characterizations are real and believable.  The reader can easily understand and follow each character’s motivations because, in large part, they all relate back to basic aspects of human nature--greed, desire, desperation, etc.  But most importantly, Trollope’s characters are human--while Melmotte is a swindler and a bully, we also see his desperation, his fear, and his insecurity.  We despise Melmotte, but we also come to feel for him, to pity him.  The ability to create such a dynamic character, and set him in such among other similarly believable figures, makes The Way We Live Now a wonderful and enjoyable read.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

a brief departure

I am taking a break from reading today to bake a cake.  I love to bake, I love it almost as much as I love reading.  When I read, I am able to magically transport to wherever and whenever I am reading; I can close my eyes and am suddenly in Victorian England or Colonial America or, yes, even Hogwarts.  I love to curl up in my armchair, blanket on lap and a steaming cup of tea on hand, and I will happily lose myself in a book for hours.  In a way, I love baking for the same reason.  When I bake, I enter a world where I am master and the kitchen is my domain.  I control everything from the amount of sugar and almond extract to the exact consistency to which I will whip my eggs.  And baking, like reading, involves a world of magic.  I melt chocolate, add eggs and flour and somewhere in the oven it turns into a warm, fluffy cake that brings a smile to the face.  This of course is the main reason why I love baking, though.  I love the power baking has to please people, to charm them, to make them feel comfortable and welcome in my home.  A good book has the power to inspire and to motivate, but a good meal can calm and restore; both can bring joy, but in very different ways.  So today I am briefly departing from one love in favor of another.  I have my recipe picked out--a Devil’s Food Cake, I have the best of Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me playing in the background, and I am ready to bake!

Swirls of chocolate and flour, mmmm....

The recipe itself (which can be found at http://nyti.ms/ebvXM0) is pretty easy: sift together dry ingredients and set aside; beat the butter and start slowly adding all the other good things like sugars and melted chocolate.  I found the recipe through a New York Times twitter account that I follow, nytimesdining.  Part of one woman’s apprenticeship with a fabulous baker, the recipe has been simplified and is presented in an easy, conversational manner.  As I read instructions, I felt like I could close my eyes and hear my mom directing me how to make this cake, which was comforting and much more preferable than the annoyingly vague directions many recipes include.  I did have one minor mishap, though.  To save time and pans, I attempted to melt my chocolate in the microwave instead of melting it in the double boiler.  I was distracted, however, by the delightfully sharp wit of my favorite Wait Wait… guest, Roy Blount Jr., and let the chocolate cook in the microwave for too long and didn’t realize it was burning until a rather unpleasant smell met my nose.  At that point I decided it might be best to do as I have always done and melt my chocolate in the double boiler.  It’s messier, but ultimately easier (and makes you sound cooler, at least I think so).  Other than that, though, I was able to sift, mix, and whip up a beautiful batter that I transferred into two tins and placed them in the oven for baking.
A picture of the finished product


As the cake baked, my tiny kitchen was filled with the smell of chocolate and it was amazing!  When I pulled them out of the oven, the cakes were beautiful--they were spongy to touch and just rounded on the tops.  I let the cakes cool for about five minutes and then removed them from their tins.  This is always a tense moment for me and I worry in the moments immediately before and after I flip the pans--will my cake slide out gently? Or will it break and remain halfway in the tin?  Miraculously, though, they plopped right out.  Then I cut the top off of one of the cakes so that the layers would stack nicely.  As I gently slid my serrated knife across the top of the cake, puffs of chocolate steam greeted me warmly.  I stacked the layers and then proceeded to apply way too much frosting (because it looked pretty) and then I took the portion of the cake that I had just removed and crumbled it over the freshly iced cake.  The result was a beautiful (albeit slightly amateurishly iced) cake that I can proudly present as my contribution to the game day festivities tomorrow.  Hopefully it tastes as good as it smells!

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

New Year, New Post

I recently started Anthony Trollope’s The Way We Live Now.  It is different from Eureka Street in several ways.  Eureka Street is a relatively short novel, a quick read ( I usually gobble it up in a day or two).  The novel’s prose flows so smoothly and evenly that I breeze through chapters. Because it was written and set in Belfast in 1994 (both of which I have studied), the book is truly an effortless read.  The Way We Live Now, while fascinating and thoroughly enjoyable, is not an effortless read.  My copy is over 750 pages long, so even if the pages did fly, this would still be quite the undertaking.  And while I studied British history, I am not familiar enough with British Victorian society, government, and economics to properly appreciate the novel’s intricacies, and thus am constantly referring to historical resources to better understand Trollope’s characters and plot twists.  Despite this (or because of this) I am truly enjoying this novel and the historian in me is loving the miniature lessons in history and culture that each chapter offers.
Now, as may be readily apparent, I am new to blogging and the concept of posting regular updates.  I am also still trying to figure out how I want to run this novel-reading project.  Initially my plan was to read a novel and then--as I did with Eureka Street--after I had finished the novel, I would post a review.  To do this with The Way We Live Now would be impractical, though, because of the novel’s substantial length.  Not only would it necessitate a longer absence from my blog, but it would also require a more-than-lengthy review.  I have bookmarked so many pages and scribbled so many notes that I could fill pages with my thoughts and reactions to the novel, and I’ve only just reached halfway.  I am, therefore, resolved to post with greater frequency, if only to be able to accommodate my many ideas about this Victorian masterpiece.

More will follow.  Soon.