After Pamela, I was hesitant about the idea of beginning another epistolary novel. But, from the instant I began to read, I knew that Frances Burney had surpassed Richardson in bringing life and dimension to the letters of Evelina. The letters take you on a journey to the late 1700’s covering every detail of life, as it existed then. Evelina’s emergence from her sheltered country life into the lion-filled pits of London’s upper-middle class society life is satirical but sincere, and Eveline’s personal journey from innocent girl to a desirous, knowing young woman, feels as contemporary to me as a John Hughs’ coming-of-age movie (although this reference dates me). This period of time in a girl’s life is complex on many levels and Burney captures them skillfully. There is lightness in the novel that might be read as trivializing, but I think to attribute pain over seemingly small incidences as trivial, is to miss the point. These early years are about deciding whom we are going to be and, if the decision is not actively made, than we passively allow those around us to decide our fate. Evelina struggles without the proper tools to accomplish her goal of having a say in the progression of her life, but she continues to fight for her resolution. Eveline seems to be asking the reader if it is possible to experience the duplicity of others without becoming tainted oneself.
Recently, while away on a girl’s weekend, we began talking about why it is that people often marry first loves from high school later in life. My husband was my very first sweaty palm, heart-palpitating crush. This state basically lasted all of high school during which time we were great friends but, to my disappointment, he never asked me out. Ten years later we met again through friends and were engaged less than a year later. We will celebrate ten years married this spring. My mother’s second and much happier marriage was to her senior year boyfriend with whom she reconnected after thirty years apart. My brother-in-law is finally getting married next month to a woman that my husband and I went to high school with, and that he knew through us all being common friends. While I have no hard research to back up my theory, it goes something like this: during these years we are our rawest, most awkward selves and anyone who knew us then and still likes us now is worth an extra look. This theory of mine actually has a few more layers than that, but it would be another paper and I’m sure you get the gist.
Burney captures this raw and awkward self perfectly, as Evelina tries to find her place in the world. Her days in London help her, through observation and participation, to begin to form a template for her future self. She watches others around her behave in ways that mystify and offend her, and she learns who she does not want to be. I have not finished the book yet, but John Hughs gives me hope that all will end well. I cannot help but root for Evelina who is good but not too good, troubled but not neurotic, insecure but not pathetic. Evelina’s journey seems to be Burney’s map for her contemporary readers, as they begin their own journey. I have my money on a marriage to Lord Orville.
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2 comments:
Great metaphor. Burney really does provide a map of contemporary London! Fielding has been praised for decades for his sociological picture of his society, but of all the novels I have read from the period, I think Burney's gives you the fullest idea of what life must have been like in the milieux she was interested in. Burney has been getting more notice in the last 15 years, but for most of the 20th century she was treated as minor if not completely "forgotten." Burney's heroine is an observer--you don't always notice it, but most of the novel consists of her observations of those around her, often in the form of a record or transcription of their conversations. Whereas Pamela was seen in close-up so to speak throughout the novel, Evelina is more like the camera. (Fielding is like an old-fashioned director with a bull-horn). That lightness you speak of is one of the keys to a particular strain of realism that goes from Burney to Austen and then to Eliot. Should we really look down on that "trivial" stuff? Isn't that what occupies most people's lives? If you tape recorded a week's worth of conversations with your best friend, how much of it would be about the "big questions" and how much of it would be about the little goings on, pains and pleasures, opinions and headaches concerning the people in what Austen would have called your "daily circle"?
I really enjoyed what you wrote about Evelina and the book overall. I share most of your opinion and I think it is awesome. You are very insightful, and I really appreciate that in a writting. I just thought your opinion and perspective of Evelina was great and how Burney's writting during the 1700's, and london is amazing.
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