I go to 19th century literature when I want to escape. I have been
spending far too much time lately thinking intensely about education, the
act of reading, what makes good writing and whether the role of public
education is to fulfill the expectations of the parents or to fulfill
some larger social purpose such as creating a literate public. And what
is a “literate public” anyway? Or, and even scarier, do kids go to
school to be socialized and exactly what does that mean? From what I can
tell, manners are not part of the equation. Wearing the correct clothes
and using the approved language is. Heavy stuff after a long day at work
analyzing data about child care and what the projected state level budget
cuts will do to the availability of quality care for parents. Not to
mention my job, which may disappear pretty soon.

Anyway, I picked up The Woman in White. I’ve never read any of Wilkie
Collins’ work though I have read about it in the context of Dickens and
the publishing world of Victorian London. Somehow I got the impression he
wrote lurid, sensational novels that were hugely popular but of inferior
quality. But this book, unlike most of what was published then, has been
continuously in print since it was first published in 1860. Something has
to be going on here.

What I found were amazingly well drawn characters.

The plot itself is fairly straightforward. Walter Hartwright, a young
drawing teacher, has been offered the financially lucrative opportunity
to go to the house of a Mr. Fairlie to teach his young wards drawing.
Late at night, on the way back from a farewell visit to his mother’s
house just outside London, he encounters a ghostly woman dressed
completely in white asking his aid in getting to London. She is
mysterious, nervous and attractive. After walking with her the rest of
the way and finding her a cab, he overhears the conversation of men
looking for her. She has escaped from an insane asylum. And, later, after
arriving at the house he is to teach in, his new student is the spitting
image of her. That is just the opening. The story is told by various
narrators telling their version of events from Walter’s meeting with the
mysterious woman to the marriage of Laura Fairlie and the final escape
made from it and the revelation of Sir Percival Glyde’s “Secret”.
There are some melodramatic moments though by current standards they
wouldn’t frighten a five year old. And the sexual innuendos are so tame
by comparison I had to consciously think back to the times the book was
written in to appreciate them.

But the characters are wonderful. Count Fosco is so hypnotically evil he
sends shivers up your spine. And the interesting part is that his
nastiness is so under the surface, so seemingly congenial that you just
want to believe he’s a good guy. Yet something about him is off. The
other bad guy, Sir Percival Glyde is the foil that sets him off. He’s
manipulative and cunning but can’t keep the ruse up in the face of
frustration. His true self shows through and you hate him. But he gets it
good in the end.

The good characters are just as much fun. Walter Hartwright’s initial
description of Marian Halcombe, the principal female narrator, is
perfect. He lovingly describes her goddess-like figure from bottom to
gloriously described bust and hair only to come to her face, which is,
deep intake of breath here, UGLY. Ugly beyond belief. Gargoyle ugly.
Butt ugly. She has hair on her upper lip. Fortunately for Marian, she
has a fine mind and a perfect temperament. Laura Fairlie doesn’t quite
fair so well. She is perfect in a more conventional sense–frail, blonde
and unassumingly compliant. I just wanted to take her by her lovely locks
and shake her up a little. But had she had more backbone, the plot of the
book would have been disrupted.

There are also several humorous grace notes. Mrs. Vesey, the companion of
Laura and Marian, is a woman who sits. That’s her role and she fulfills it
splendidly. And the Italian friend of Walter, Pesca, chitters away in
broken English in a perfect rendition of a Victorian writer’s attempt at
displaying a foreigner.

It’s a good book. Read it slowly and enjoy.