Reynje is one of my absolute favorite reviewers so it was a no-brainer that I would ask her to write the infamously vague "something" for Year of the Classics. Her reviews are beautifully written, insightful, and often hilarious. I couldn't wait to see what she would come up with for this feature. When she sent her finished post to me, I was thrilled to see that she had chosen to write about Tess of the D'Urbervilles, one of my favorite books from one of my favorite authors of all time, Thomas Hardy. I'm very excited to share this with all of you today! Take it away, Reynje.
I used to think that there was no science to the way I selected my favourite books. They spanned different genres, styles, themes and time periods. I had my dog-eared Raymond Carver’s on my shelves along with my pristine Jane Austen’s – (although not side by side because I have the strange habit of anthropomorphising my books and I don’t know if they’d get along). There wasn’t a clear pattern or set of criteria I could narrow down to define my reading “taste”; I just felt lucky when I discovered a new book to love.
But I’ve since realised that, for me at least, there’s such a thing as book chemistry.
I’m a big believer in the idea of “the right book at the right time”. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve started one, lost interest or given up and put it aside, only to come across it months or even years later, and proceeded to fall completely in love with it. The book I once couldn’t force myself to finish would suddenly be the one I couldn’t put down.
But I’ve since realised that, for me at least, there’s such a thing as book chemistry.
I’m a big believer in the idea of “the right book at the right time”. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve started one, lost interest or given up and put it aside, only to come across it months or even years later, and proceeded to fall completely in love with it. The book I once couldn’t force myself to finish would suddenly be the one I couldn’t put down.
This happened with Thomas Hardy. I can’t remember how old I was when I first borrowed Far From the Madding Crowd from my local library, but it sailed completely over my head and I was bored within pages. I read a lot of classics growing up and wanted to read Hardy. But it seemed like Hardy didn’t want me. So I gave up.
Then a few years ago, a friend of mine gave me his copy of Tess of D’Urbervilles and told me to read it. It was a second-hand (more like fifth or sixth-hand, probably) paperback edition, complete with stained yellow pages, cracked spine and a stranger’s name written inside the front cover. I started reading it mostly to humour my friend, because I’ll admit just the sight of the author’s name on the cover brought out the defeatist in me.
And then I couldn’t stop reading it.
At the time I was living in a dive of a flat, which was perpetually cold and dark, so I spent hours every day curled up in a blanket next to my lamp, unable to tear myself away from Tess. I don’t know what had changed. It seems too simple to just put it down to the fact that I was older. Because something about Tess of the D’Urbervilles, at that particular point of time in my life, spoke to me like no other book could. It was one of the most intensely emotional reading experiences I’ve ever had. It sounds dramatic, but I felt a connection to the story that was almost overwhelming, the strength of which has not waned with passing time.
Then a few years ago, a friend of mine gave me his copy of Tess of D’Urbervilles and told me to read it. It was a second-hand (more like fifth or sixth-hand, probably) paperback edition, complete with stained yellow pages, cracked spine and a stranger’s name written inside the front cover. I started reading it mostly to humour my friend, because I’ll admit just the sight of the author’s name on the cover brought out the defeatist in me.
And then I couldn’t stop reading it.
At the time I was living in a dive of a flat, which was perpetually cold and dark, so I spent hours every day curled up in a blanket next to my lamp, unable to tear myself away from Tess. I don’t know what had changed. It seems too simple to just put it down to the fact that I was older. Because something about Tess of the D’Urbervilles, at that particular point of time in my life, spoke to me like no other book could. It was one of the most intensely emotional reading experiences I’ve ever had. It sounds dramatic, but I felt a connection to the story that was almost overwhelming, the strength of which has not waned with passing time.
| With its initial publication in 1891, then censored and serialized, Tess received a mixed response. And not much has changed. I’ve grown used to the varied reactions when I name it as my favourite book and Tess herself as one of my favourite literary heroines. While the nature of the criticism has changed since the original objections to its portrayal of a “fallen woman” and the sexual mores of the time, to some, Tess is still an unlikely choice. I could spend pages writing about what I love about her. But one of the most powerful things I think Hardy communicated through Tess was what a tragedy it is to love the idea of a person, rather than the person herself. |
Tess falls victim not only to the double standard of the time, but also to the version of herself Angel Clare has created in his mind. The manner in which the “real” Tess is suppressed and betrayed by the perfection Clare projects upon her, is heartbreaking to read.
And in the age that coined the term “Manic Pixie Dream Girl”, when female characters can appear as idealized concepts rather than real people, Tess’ story still feels relevant and powerful.
It’s been said that, in the context of the novel itself, Hardy is Tess’ only true ally. The only person who sees her as she truly is and whose love encompasses every aspect of her. So I like to think of all the people who have been touched by this book, identify with her story, and shelve it along with their favourites. All the love for her that now exists.
And in the age that coined the term “Manic Pixie Dream Girl”, when female characters can appear as idealized concepts rather than real people, Tess’ story still feels relevant and powerful.
It’s been said that, in the context of the novel itself, Hardy is Tess’ only true ally. The only person who sees her as she truly is and whose love encompasses every aspect of her. So I like to think of all the people who have been touched by this book, identify with her story, and shelve it along with their favourites. All the love for her that now exists.
I can’t help but think that Tess of the D’Urbervilles came into my life at the right time. That I rediscovered Thomas Hardy when I was ready for him. Prior to that point I might not have fully appreciated how truly poetic and moving this book is.
[As a sidepoint, I also recommend the beautifully produced 2008 BBC adaptation of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, from which the screencaps above were taken.]
[As a sidepoint, I also recommend the beautifully produced 2008 BBC adaptation of Tess of the D’Urbervilles, from which the screencaps above were taken.]
Thank you so much for sharing this with us today, Reynje. I have often thought exactly the same things about "the right book at the right time." There are many books that I know I wouldn't have appreciated before a certain age or before living through a certain experience. And it's lovely to find another Tess ally!
Reynje is a contributing writer at The Midnight Garden and can also be found on Goodreads and Twitter.
Reynje is a contributing writer at The Midnight Garden and can also be found on Goodreads and Twitter.
