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silverflight8From "The magician of Threadneedle-Street" to "The unlikely milliner".
Mr Norrell is visited in his library by Vinculus, the most famous of the street magicians, and Vinculus delivers a prophecy to a very unwilling Norrell.
Then the next chapter cuts to Laurence Strange--described from a new servant's perspective, and it's one awful picture. His new manservant was late with his sherry and so Laurence forces him to walk through the bramble-filled impassible road on a journey that had no real purpose. But Laurence Strange gets his comeuppance, and we are very briefly introduced to the other half of the title: Jonathan Strange, whose mother died when he was young and who spent his time split between his maternal relatives and under his father.
Lady Pole has risen to celebrity due to her resurrection and is holding her very first party as a married woman, a rather important event in her career. Sir Walter Pole's staff and hers have integrated under the direction of Stephen Black, Pole's butler. But on the evening of the dinner, the servants act strangely; though they are well-trained and steady, they are distracted and afraid, hearing ghostly pipes and people knocking at windows. In fact, the whole household starts hearing strange sounds like trees growing around the house and mournful music, and they become convinced the house is haunted.
In answering the bell for a sudden new location, Lost-Hope, Stephen accidentally steps into the world of the gentleman with the thistle-down hair, who is also hosting a party. The guests are fairy people, who know about England but don't visit the realm, because it's too dull and dreary.
Stephen comes back to England feeling exhausted--he feels he's got the aches of dancing all night without actually dancing. On his way home from Mrs Brandy's, where he's called over the curious appearance of twenty-five extra guineas--guineas that shine and sparkle in very strange ways though no one notices--Piccadilly turns into a magic wood and Stephen ends up back in the House of Lost-Hope. Lady Pole too is affected; she becomes listless again and says she wants to stop dancing. When Norrell is consulted about Lady Pole, he hastily says it's none of his business and then goes home to try to talk to the gentleman with the thistle-down hair.
Stephen, sitting exhausted in the Peep-O'Day-Boys club, suddenly meets the gentleman with the thistle-down hair sitting in the next booth over. Stephen politely requests to stop visiting the House of Lost Hope but the gentleman takes that as rather an insult. The gentleman is very set on freeing Stephen from the wicked Sir Walter and making him king of some sub-kingdom somewhere.
Norrell is somewhat successful in removing magicians from London; most pack up and leave when told they can't practice magic there anymore. Childermass shows up at Vinculus' booth in the shabby disguise of a milliner in order to convince Vinculus to leave, and they depart for a warmer and drier inn to talk about it.
--
I loved the stuff in the gentleman with the thistle-down hair's house. Like the colour of the box, which is "not exactly pale blue and not exactly grey, not precisely lavender and not precisely lilac", made from "the tears of spinsters of good family, who must live long lives of impeccable virtue and die without ever having had a day of true happiness!" (Rather ruthless there, especially in contrast to Stephen's remark.) Gowns of storms, shadows and rain; necklaces of broken promises and regrets. And then in Mrs Brandy's shop--Mercy (deserved), Mercy (undeserved), Ingratitude of Children, etc.
Why do you think Norrell is so adamant at removing all magicians (except him) from England? Is it vanity and the desire to be the only magician (because I mean, once he dies, then magic will be gone!) He's short-sighted, for sure. What do you guys think?
Stephen also seems more tired than just living two lives seems to suggest--he seems to have somehow taken one some of the traits of the fairy world--or at least gained more knowledge. As he walks through the house he thinks distantly that he knows this corridor goes towards the Eastern Armoury etc. And he seems to have the same thoughts of dreariness as the House of Lost Hope itself.
Next week, from chapters 21-25 - unfortunately I did not actually look at the chapter layouts so we're going to do the last two chapters of the first volume and then three of the next, in one week. Oops. From "The cards of Marseilles" into Volume II's "Another magician". Apologies again for the delays!
Mr Norrell is visited in his library by Vinculus, the most famous of the street magicians, and Vinculus delivers a prophecy to a very unwilling Norrell.
Then the next chapter cuts to Laurence Strange--described from a new servant's perspective, and it's one awful picture. His new manservant was late with his sherry and so Laurence forces him to walk through the bramble-filled impassible road on a journey that had no real purpose. But Laurence Strange gets his comeuppance, and we are very briefly introduced to the other half of the title: Jonathan Strange, whose mother died when he was young and who spent his time split between his maternal relatives and under his father.
Lady Pole has risen to celebrity due to her resurrection and is holding her very first party as a married woman, a rather important event in her career. Sir Walter Pole's staff and hers have integrated under the direction of Stephen Black, Pole's butler. But on the evening of the dinner, the servants act strangely; though they are well-trained and steady, they are distracted and afraid, hearing ghostly pipes and people knocking at windows. In fact, the whole household starts hearing strange sounds like trees growing around the house and mournful music, and they become convinced the house is haunted.
In answering the bell for a sudden new location, Lost-Hope, Stephen accidentally steps into the world of the gentleman with the thistle-down hair, who is also hosting a party. The guests are fairy people, who know about England but don't visit the realm, because it's too dull and dreary.
Stephen comes back to England feeling exhausted--he feels he's got the aches of dancing all night without actually dancing. On his way home from Mrs Brandy's, where he's called over the curious appearance of twenty-five extra guineas--guineas that shine and sparkle in very strange ways though no one notices--Piccadilly turns into a magic wood and Stephen ends up back in the House of Lost-Hope. Lady Pole too is affected; she becomes listless again and says she wants to stop dancing. When Norrell is consulted about Lady Pole, he hastily says it's none of his business and then goes home to try to talk to the gentleman with the thistle-down hair.
Stephen, sitting exhausted in the Peep-O'Day-Boys club, suddenly meets the gentleman with the thistle-down hair sitting in the next booth over. Stephen politely requests to stop visiting the House of Lost Hope but the gentleman takes that as rather an insult. The gentleman is very set on freeing Stephen from the wicked Sir Walter and making him king of some sub-kingdom somewhere.
Norrell is somewhat successful in removing magicians from London; most pack up and leave when told they can't practice magic there anymore. Childermass shows up at Vinculus' booth in the shabby disguise of a milliner in order to convince Vinculus to leave, and they depart for a warmer and drier inn to talk about it.
--
I loved the stuff in the gentleman with the thistle-down hair's house. Like the colour of the box, which is "not exactly pale blue and not exactly grey, not precisely lavender and not precisely lilac", made from "the tears of spinsters of good family, who must live long lives of impeccable virtue and die without ever having had a day of true happiness!" (Rather ruthless there, especially in contrast to Stephen's remark.) Gowns of storms, shadows and rain; necklaces of broken promises and regrets. And then in Mrs Brandy's shop--Mercy (deserved), Mercy (undeserved), Ingratitude of Children, etc.
Why do you think Norrell is so adamant at removing all magicians (except him) from England? Is it vanity and the desire to be the only magician (because I mean, once he dies, then magic will be gone!) He's short-sighted, for sure. What do you guys think?
Stephen also seems more tired than just living two lives seems to suggest--he seems to have somehow taken one some of the traits of the fairy world--or at least gained more knowledge. As he walks through the house he thinks distantly that he knows this corridor goes towards the Eastern Armoury etc. And he seems to have the same thoughts of dreariness as the House of Lost Hope itself.
Next week, from chapters 21-25 - unfortunately I did not actually look at the chapter layouts so we're going to do the last two chapters of the first volume and then three of the next, in one week. Oops. From "The cards of Marseilles" into Volume II's "Another magician". Apologies again for the delays!
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Breaking (most of) the rules
Date: May. 2nd, 2014 04:17 am (UTC)Why do you think Norrell is so adamant at removing all magicians (except him) from England?
Damned if I knew at this stage and now, having finished the novel, I still don't have a clue as to Norrell's motivations.
Which I rather think is one point among many that will probably annoy some readers very much. In the 20th and 21st centuries, we have grown accustomed to the idea of what I'll call explicative psychology, the conceit that there are always some basic, comprehensible reasons for our character and behaviour. (Now I think of it, it's a truly 19th century idea, a kind of clockwork view of human nature, which makes sense since it originated with (or was popularized by) Freud and other early psychoanalysts. But I digress.)
Clarke, true to her 19th century style, simply doesn't seem to find the question of Norrell's motivations to be an interesting one. Or anyone's motivations, for that matter — we got a glimpse of Strange's abused childhood, but it didn't seem to have any bearing on the sort of man Strange turned out to be.
All of which make for one of the elements that makes JS&N such an odd piece of work. Whether through ignorance or deliberation, Clarke just ignores an entire century of English-language literary "rules" in order to follow her muse.
Re: Breaking (most of) the rules
Date: May. 3rd, 2014 04:13 am (UTC)Re: Breaking (most of) the rules
Date: May. 5th, 2014 05:23 am (UTC)I dunno whether to laugh or to hang my head in shame. Maybe a little of both; clearly my point got lost in my verbiage. In one short sentence you said pretty much what the first paragraph or so of my comment was trying to get at.
But what I was also trying to get at, was the sheer weirdness of what she's doing. She says, "That's who Mr. Norrell is" and we readers must either accept it without explanation or else close the book. Nowadays even Batman strives for some kind of psychological (pseudo) realism to explain his behaviour. But Susannah Clarke has just said, "screw that" and waltzed off into the past.
The wonder is, that she does it so well that so many of us are thrilled to follow her there.
Re: Breaking (most of) the rules
Date: May. 9th, 2014 05:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: May. 4th, 2014 08:25 pm (UTC)I found these recent chapters to be very biting in terms of social criticism, in gender, class, and race. Especially with Lady Pole, who is treated like an object by Mr. Norrell (something to further his career) while Pole himself is shown to be really infatuated with her. There are several passages that cover what a woman was expected of at the time that are written with a sarcastic tone. Here are a few:
"The accomplishments which have won her [the bride] acclaim in the three years since she left the classroom are no longer enough. It is no longer enough to dress exquisitely, to chuse jewels exactly appropriate to the occasion, to converse in French, to play the pianoforte and sing. Now she must turn her attention to French cooking and French wines." (pg. 137) Finally. Something serious for her to do.
"The gentlemen among my readers will smile to themselves and say that women never did understand business, but the ladies may agree with me that Mrs. Brandy understood her business very well, for the chief business of Mrs. Brandy's life was to make Stephen Black as much in love with her as she was with him." (pg. 157)
And, what Mr. Norrell thinks of Lady Pole's fading health: (while speaking to the gentleman with thistle-down hair) "What is the fate of one young woman compared to the success of English magic? No, it is her husband that concerns me - the man for whom I did all this! He is brought quite low by your treachery. Supposing he should not recover! Supposing he were to resign from Government! I might never find another ally so willing to help me." (pg. 167)
What I learned in these past few chapters was that in the 1800's, a woman's life wasn't worth much. I am reminded of Thackeray's Vanity Fair, in that many women like Becky were wasted potential - they were intelligent but society dictated that their lives were to be spent as housewives. The fact that Norrell cares more for the health of his relationship with Pole rather than the physical health of Lady Pole was rather concerning. I find many times throughout this book that I don't really care about any of the characters, with the only exception being Stephen Black.
I don't see this as a flaw in her writing, though. All of the characters that have been presented so far are all high class white men. The reason why I don't care about any of them (including Mr. Norrell now) is because they have nothing to lose. Society works in favor for them. Lady Pole is rendered a pawn in their games and Stephen Black is assumed to be a thief simply by bumping into another man. I think this is why the gentleman with thistle-down hair has specifically picked them out, as they are both pawns in the game of society.
The question of why Mr. Norrell wants to root out anyone who performs magic in London lies in class, I believe. He's quick to insist that Vinculus is a fake, even though the prophecy unnerves him. While it may not be a question of class as dictated by society, I think it's a question of what Mr. Norrell dictates as a class of magic. Anyone else who he doesn't deem to have magic equal to his level is not a real magician. Clarke even brings in a bit about the changing of class and its relation to magic with the Meraudian Heresy. Essentially, Meraud insisted that anyone who was affected by magic no longer had individual rights.
That was rather long, but I loved these last few chapters.
no subject
Date: May. 6th, 2014 04:20 am (UTC)Yes--in many ways I think Norrell is rather like Drawlight (and perhaps Lascelles), who hang onto people not because they particularly like them but because they are useful in some way.
What I learned in these past few chapters was that in the 1800's, a woman's life wasn't worth much.
Er, yes.
All of the characters that have been presented so far are all high class white men [...] they have nothing to lose.
I don't agree that they have nothing to lose. They are at much less risk of losing things--as you mention, Stephen Black knows he can be arrested and condemned simply because he looks like he's doing something wrong (something which still has contemporary echoes, sigh) but Norrell and Strange most definitely have things to lose. You can't have nothing to lose unless you have nothing. Norrell, for example, is incredibly paranoid about his books and a bit less so about his position as the magician bringing English magic back.
Honestly I think the gentleman with thistle-down hair has an interest in Lady Pole and Stephen Black because of Norrell's actions--Norrell involved them. Lady Pole owes the gentleman half her life as part of the bargain. Why Stephen Black--it seems to have been a mistake (him accidentally walking into Lost Hope, it is curious why the other servants didn't fall in either, since they heard/felt the castle otherwise) but he basically got into the gentleman's good graces when the gentleman thought Stephen was a valet. But then again, Stephen goes along with it because he doesn't wish to offend (and perhaps bring repercussions which he cannot possibly defend against).
why Mr. Norrell wants to root out anyone who performs magic in London lies in class, I believe. He's quick to insist that Vinculus is a fake
But he also disbands all the theoretical magicians he comes across--the Yorkshire Society being one. Those are his same social class, but he looks down on them. I do agree that he is contemptuous of anyone who he perceives as not having magic--but it also extends to fear that someone might also somehow learn magic (by taking a book! horror!)
no subject
Date: May. 6th, 2014 10:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: May. 9th, 2014 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: May. 9th, 2014 07:23 pm (UTC)* The capricious supernatural beings classed as fairies, aka "the gentry", most often inflict their whims on the disabled, women, and the underclass poor, in a direct parallel to the actual social hierarchies of oppression in the 19th century English society shaping those folk tales.