Monday, December 17, 2018

Mount TBR #36

I read this book for the Mount TBR 2018 Reading Challenge.

Little Novels - Wilkie Collins

Collins (1824 - 1889) was a fellow writer and business associate of Charles Dickens and the author of novels such as No Name and The Moonstone. He also wrote stories for the magazine market. These short stories were first bundled between covers in 1887. The collection  was never released in the US because Collins’ stock was so low in the late 19th century perhaps due to his unconventional personal life: he never married and implied unusual views of marriage in his writing. Anyway, the collection  was not available in the US  until Dover released a facsimile edition in 1977.

Mrs. Zant and the Ghost (1879). A widow suffers extramundane experiences in public, which attract the considerate attention of a widower and his little girl. The widower finds the widow under the unhealthy influence of a rum brother-in-law. One of Collins’ themes was the vulnerability of women, especially due to law and custom.

Miss Morris and the Stranger (1881). A light rom-com with a female narrator. A governess, she is smart and capable but still liable to say endearing things like “I was so mortified, I could almost have cried.” She also says parenthetically, “Miss Melbury was a dark woman. It cannot be because I am a fair woman myself—I hope I am above such narrow prejudices as that—but it is certainly true that I don’t admire dark women.” Delightful.

Mr. Cosway and the Landlady (1881). Beware marriages of convenience. A widow, she wants to get married to hold off men who stay at her inn and nag her to marry them. He needs to get quits on a huge inn bill she has saddled him with. But, of course, it all blows up, as we knew it would, because of the unblushing bride’s malice.

Mr. Medhurst and the Princess (1884). Collins was funny when he orders a clueless narrator to the helm of a tale. In this case, the narrator is a young diplomat assigned to a minor German court. His lack of wit and experience among the diplo sharks disconcerts both his allies and adversaries, prompting one manipulative character to tell him “Give up diplomacy—and get a farmer to employ you in keeping his sheep.”

Mr. Lismore and the Widow (1883). I’d spoil this story if I hinted what kind of story it was. Suffice to say, I’ve heard the Victorians loved this kind of twist in a story. I supply the link, you choose to use an half-hour to read it. You know you want to, you know you’re too far gone to be anything like productive for the rest of the day.

Miss Jeromette and the Clergyman (1875).Narrated by a conscience-stricken clergyman, this story features excellent characterization, besides a coincidence and a ghost. The climax – “I sat looking at the pillar of mist, hovering opposite to me  - is more awe-inspiring than scary, which is alright by me.

Miss Mina and the Groom (1878).The past comes back to haunt a middle-aged lady. To quote “She was near the door, on the point of leaving me. As I spoke, she turned with a ghastly stare of horror--felt about her with her hands as if she was groping in darkness--and dropped on the floor.” Yeh, it’s that kind of sensational story. Fun.

Mr. Lepel and the Housekeeper (1884). A pair of college pals find themselves living out a love triangle right out of opera. One angle is the 17-year-old daughter of a lodge keeper’s widow. Admittedly,  the Victorian complacency about the middle aged male and the not or barely legal maid makes us post-moderns wince. But this is worth reading because in this late-career story, Collins experiments with the ridiculous narrator.  Mr. Lepel’s cluelessness about his housekeeper’s motives and actions is a hoot.

Mr. Captain and the Nymph (1876). Blown off course in the Pacific, mariners land on an island, which the proverbial crusty sea-dog labels a "beastly green strip of a place, not laid down in any Christian chart." The local chief warns the sailor-men off a nearby island, lest they be slain for desecrating holy ground. Does the Captain listen? No. Does he fall for the forbidden island’s nymph? Yes. Does it end happily? Oh hell no but it’s full of action and romance.

Mr. Marmaduke and the Minister (1878). Told from the point of view of a Puritanical Scot clergyman, this story has the narrator concerned about his comely daughter’s marriage to a guy who never stays home in the evenings and has a room upstairs he bars anybody from entering. The unworldly clergyman worries if his son-in-law is a gamester or counterfeiter. All’s well that ends well in a story in which Collins the bohemian pokes fun at the squares.

Mr. Percy and the Prophet (1877). Collins stretches out a bit. The story starts with a weird interlude focusing on a spiritualist’s uncanny prediction of a love triangle. Then, the emphasis changes to the love triangle and the resulting duel (the story takes place in 1817) and the deep friendship that arises between the two duelists. Collins’ examination of politics and government reveals his skepticism about the motives of politicians and bureaucrats. A solid story, if overwrought.

Miss Bertha and the Yankee (1877). A young woman from the colonies finds herself not only an heiress but in a love triangle with an intense English Army officer and a gentle Yankee. At first the two men are friends but love for the unintentionally indiscreet beauty comes between them to the point where they fight a duel. An overheated story that should appeal to fans of melodrama.

Miss Dulane and my Lord (1886). Again, beware marriages of convenience. She wants a title, he wants money – or rather fun stuff money can buy like yachts. But a comely third party – with a past, of course – tears up the pea patch. Some ill-natured anti-Semitism mars the story. It’s clear that Collins doubted that the institution of marriage was all it was cracked up to be; in fact, he never married.

Mr. Policeman and the Cook (1881). A young homicide detective finds himself in a moral quandary. This is a serious, almost gloomy story, of what the conflict between love and duty will drive people to.

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