With neither friends nor family, Lucy Snowe sets sail from England to find employment in a girls boarding school in the small town of Villette. There she struggles to retain her self-possession in the face of unruly pupils, an initially suspicious headmaster, and her own complex feelings, first for the schools English doctor and then for the dictatorial professor, Paul Emmanuel. Charlotte Brontės last and most autobiographical novel is a powerfully moving study of isolation and the pain of unrequited love, narrated by a heroine determined to preserve an independent spirit in the face of adverse circumstances.
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Review Summary: One of my favorite books - "a sense of real wonder" arises from the beauty, passion, tragedy, and joy of this haunting novel
Review: IMPRESSIONS:
I now completely understand George Eliot's statement about "Villette": "I am only just returned to a sense of real wonder about me, for I have been reading 'Villette' ... There is something preternatural about its power." I have just read this book for the first time and finished it a few days ago, yet I could not immediately write a review as I was still so submerged in the language, the story, and the characters, that I wanted to stay with them for a little while longer before I withdrew.
Virginia Woolf called "Villette" Brontė's finest novel, and though this is the first of hers that I have read, it was indeed a true masterpiece. The intricate character descriptions were vivid and priceless, gentle even in their thoroughness, which cannot but seem harsh at times. There was a quiet and restrained passion to this novel and to Lucy Snowe which I found powerful and compelling. Brontė's personifications were numerous - Death, Reason, Feeling, Hope, and her soul to name a few - and wonderfully imaginative and descriptive. Interesting to note were the comments and undertones disparaging Catholicism and the Catholic Church, and also the emphasis on the superiority of England, the English, and Englishwomen to their "continental" counterparts.
I must admit that though I was somewhat engaged at the beginning, I became subsequently less so. If this occurs with you also, please do not let it deter you, do not put the book away - I read the last 300 pages in one sitting. I found this novel very moving and in this last sitting experienced the range of human emotions - sorrow, as I despaired that Lucy would ever find happiness in her life; joy and anticipation for each interaction between M. Paul and Lucy (the scene in the evening when M. Paul sits at the table beside her and takes offense to her making room for him had me laughing out loud); surprise, despair, anger, and more - I do not want to give specifics on occurrences in the novel which I myself would not have wished to know before I read it.
At the beginning of her stay in Villette I found Lucy Snowe too placid and weak, but my opinion was reformed and though, as I said before, there is a quietness and restraint to her, there is also an underlying passion which is full and lively and which no one could possibly overlook. I loved Paul Emmanuel and even now, writing about him for this review, I cannot help but smile at my memory of him. He sees Lucy as others do not and I truly relished every clash - and increasing moments of accord - between them. Lucy says to herself on the subject of M. Paul: "You are well habituated to be passed by as a shadow in Life's sunshine: it is a new thing to see one testily lifting his hand to screen his eyes, because you tease him with an obtrusive ray" (p. 371).
BOTTOM LINE:
READ THIS BOOK!! I borrowed it from the library and the day after finishing it I ordered a copy, as I already feel a need to reread it and immerse myself in Villette once more.
SUMMARY (from the back cover):
"With neither friends nor family, Lucy Snowe sets sail from England to find employment in a girls' boarding school in the small town of Villette. There she struggles to retain her self-possession in the face of unruly pupils, a headmistress who spies on her staff, and her own complex feelings - first for the school's English doctor and then for the dictatorial professor Paul Emmanuel. Drawing on her own deeply unhappy experiences as a teacher in Brussels, Charlotte Brontė's last and most autobiographical novel is a powerfully moving study of isolation and the pain of unrequited love, narrated by a heroine determined to preserve an independent spirit in the face of adverse circumstances.
This edition includes a new introduction, which examines the novel's social and historical context, a chronology of Brontė's life and full explanatory notes."
P.S.:
In regards to this specific edition, I found it extremely useful in references/notes and background information. As another reviewer mentioned, full translations are provided and were very accurate and allusions were marked and explained.
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Review Summary: An Edition with Translations
Review: VILLETTE is the type of novel that will either haunt you forever or make you say "meh!" Although, I'm a total JANE EYRE freak, VILLETTE is my favorite out of the two. I don't really have anything else to add that already hasn't been elaborated on by my fellow reviewers.
With that out of the way, this review is directed towards those who are looking for an edition of VILLETTE that contains translations of the French text--yeah, there is A LOT of French in this book! If you don't know French, you're missing out on so much.
The Penguin Classics edition of VILLETTE edited by Mark Lily (introduction by Tony Tanner) actually does have a notes section in the back with English translations of the numerous French conversations. Also, many literary allusions (to the Bible, Greek mythology, etc.) in the novel are explained there as well, which was a big help to me. IBSN: 0140431187
However, a handful of free-standing, random French words are left untranslated in this edition. For example, "brioche" is translated but "ours" (bear) is not.
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Review Summary: Heartbreaking, beautiful
Review: I just finished Villette tonight, and I can't stop thinking about Lucy Snowe.
As many people do, I picked up this book after falling in love with Jane Eyre. And, as others have noted, Villette is just as good-- better, even-- but reading it was rather a different experience. Jane Eyre is a wonderful story, but it's really a fairy tale in many ways. Villette feels a bit more like real life, full of complications and unresolved disappointments, strange and unbelievable coincidences, and situations that just have to be borne. There were moments when I laughed on the subway, and moments when my heart ached in recognition. The characters are so finely detailed and alive, and the sentiment is so true. I think Lucy Snowe is a character that will stay with me for a long time, and right now, it hurts.
On the edition: Penguin again puts out a great version, with exhaustive notes (including all of the necessary French translations) and sharp graphics on the cover (love the orange on black).
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Review Summary: Too consummate to be fully defined
Review: Villette is a novel that cannot be pigeon-holed, though it falls loosely into the "Gothic novel" genre. It has many elements of the Gothic novel (the ghost in the attic just for a start) but Bronte turns every single convention of her time and her genre on its head, sometimes multiple times, until the form is a totally new one and all Bronte's own.
As incredible as it may sound, this is both a profoundly feminist and a profoundly conservative work. Bronte proudly displays her own British chauvinism, and creates nearly insufferable male characters (Dr. John, M. Paul, and even M. de Bassompierre at times) who dominate all the women around them gleefully. And in a majority of the cases Lucy Snowe supports and allows the dominance, only taking stands on matters of morality or her own independence. As the novel progresses Lucy stands up for herself more and more, but the overall message is still that women are gravely wronged by society. Bronte, however, doesn't see a way out of this problem.
Because of this, a happy "marriage of equals" cannot ever occur in Villette. Though Bronte, in her conservative fashion, does believe in romantic love and the happiness of a conventional marriage, she cannot reconcile it with the independence she believes women deserve. Bronte is a frustrated, defeatist, proto-feminist, who believes nothing can really be done to remedy the situation of oppressed women.
While this is an important theme of the novel, it's by no means all of it. This novel contains supremely funny passages, and the most scathing irony and sarcasm in the Bronte cannon. The cultural and religious criticism of "Labassecour" and Catholicism border, occasionally, on bigotry and Bronte, though clothed in literary glory, is shown to have the feet of clay of an English-nationalist snob.
The unreliability of the narrator, and the sometimes fragmented and hallucinatory tone of the story, make for a fascinating, if sometimes confusing, read. I agree with the poster above that this is an accessible novel, and certainly easier to read than most Henry James novels, for example, but Bronte's story-telling tricks are sometimes so subtle that the reader doesn't know that he or she is being manipulated. Occasionally it will take the reader a while to believe that he or she is being fooled; still longer to figure out why.
This is a poor description of a superlatively good book. This book does not have the breakneck pace of Jane Eyre. It does not have the excitement or minute-to-minute drama of that book, either, and fans of Jane Eyre will not necessarily enjoy Villette. This is a different novel -- I would say a better, more mature, more virtuouso, and more profound book -- but it also less of a dramatic page-turner. There is little that is knowable and understandable about the heroine, Lucy Snowe: and by this, perhaps Bronte is telling us there is little that we know about ourselves.
If you have patience and a love for rich prose, and are willing to give up some dramatic storytelling (although it is in this book, but simply in a different form) in order to get some amazing cultural criticism, and, quite honestly, some character development on a level not often seen in novels of this time period, Villette will be worth it for you. Keep an open mind, and be ready for some surprises. There is nothing conventional about this book, and that is one of its many strengths.
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Review Summary: Villette: Don't believe everything you read
Review: I suppose I should begin with the briefest of disclaimers: I wrote my Master's thesis on this novel, so I'm a bit partial to it. That said, I find Villette to be the finest example of Victorian literature that I have yet encountered. In many ways, the novel is considered to be the companion piece to Bronte's first novel, Jane Eyre, since it grapples with many of the same themes and social issues (women on the brink of poverty, the bleak prospects of governesses, etc). Yet, this likeness is superficial, and those seeking to discover a sequel to Jane Eyre may find themselves disappointed by the (anti)narrative of Villette.
Jane Eyre's bildungsroman narrative- the heroine's meteoric rise from orphan amongst the ashes to a happily married gentlewoman authoress- is at every turn frustrated in Villette. Lucy Snowe is by no means the arbiter of her own destiny like her literary predecessor Jane Eyre; she is weak, maladjusted, and misanthropic. I imagine that Lucy's account would more closely resemble that of Mr. Rochester's incarcerated wife, Bertha Mason, than that of beloved Jane's... And this is Villette's principal virtue.
The novel is an unparalleled study in character, providing its readers with access to a fantastically twisted world. Bronte's Lucy Snowe is one of literature's greatest narratological innovations; not only is she unreliable, but she is uncommunicative and at times openly hostile to her audience. This makes for a frustrating read- not due to the difficulty of the novel (compared to Eliot or James, it's not a tough read)- but because it is painful to be perpetually held at bay by the reticence of a narrator whose primary purpose is to relate her life's story to her readers. The reader is made to feel like a child, desperately seeking the love and approval of an emotionally unavailable adult. Perhaps this is the reason many people virulently despise the novel, not because it's predictable (it's not) or contrived, but because its readers are made to feel as if they were despised. They are shunned, rejected, and ultimately denied access to the inner chambers of Lucy Snowe's mind. The account we are given is fabricated, carefully structured, and warped to fit the preconceived notions of a dark and embittered mind. This manipulation provides a poignant commentary on the dangers of "realist" fiction.