Julie Epstein raises several interesting points in her essay, "Marginality in Frances Burney's Novels." She talks about the "liminal" state that Burney's heroines Evelina, Cecelia, and Camilla inhabit. To be liminal
is to be between states, as Evelina is between girlhood and (married, assumptively) womanhood. She has left her father's house but has not yet entered her husband's, and as such she occupies an in-between and rather dangerous zone. Transitioning between these two stages requires her to place herself at a position of access, if only with designs of attracting a husband, but it also invites danger upon her. As we see repeatedly in Burney's narrative, Evelina seeks to control those who have "access" to her, both physically and in placing demands on her time, but she fails to exert a significant amount of control. As a liminal woman, she lacks the power to even control others' access to her. We see this particularly in scenes in which Evenlina struggles to maintain her bodily integrity, such as when her hand is taken against her will by Mr. Lovel and later by Sir Clement. Evelina attempts to free her hand, but such is her concern about offering offense to anyone, that she often ends up struggling fruitlessly. We also see scenes in which she is cornered not only physically but conversationally by other characters, such as when Sir Clement refuses to stop badgering her about her invented dance partner. The length and detail Burney invests in describing these scenes lead me to believe that they are very thematically important. At Evelina's first ball in London, she is faced with a sort of Gordian knot of etiquette. She cannot turn anyone down for a dance without a reason, such as being previously promised to dance, yet when she attempts to offer such an excuse, her equivocation is perceived and provoked by Sir Clement. Ergo under the constraints of etiquette Evelina cannot effectively free herself from anyone, either physically or other wise, without risking offense even in the act of protecting her bodily integrity. When she is confronted, she becomes tongue-tied and awkward. I am struck by the differences between Pamela and Evelina. Evelina, technically a lady born although she is not claimed by her family, seems to possess little recourse to protect herself should she wish to abide by conventional rules of etiquette. On the other hand, the plebian Pamela fights back verbally and often quite physically to defend her bodily integrity, and it seems that her wits and sharp tongue rarely desert her. As a servant, Pamela is not bound by the contstraints that bind Evelina, and although this seems to allow her more freedom it also seems to place her in more danger, as she has no titled or monied protector. The question of access is one I would like to follow up in class, given the opportunity.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Evelina, Pamela, and liminal women
Monday, March 26, 2007
Sentimental Journey
Sterne in his A Sentimental Journey, seems to be setting a standard for the novel, though he might not have done so with full intention. The story goes smoothly, almost like a gentle lull as if the words are being spoken softly (at least to my ears). I think that this reading is mellow and a lot less "bouncy" than most of the other readings we have had in this class.
The story is about a traveler who takes the time (and lets us know that he is doing so) to define the title he attributes to himself. He lets us know why we are to consider him a sentimental traveler. The voice of the narrator is evident, but unlike Behn or even Fielding, it is not loud and imposing. The narrator's voice rather seems to be calmly authoritative. The reader is told the events of the story, but does not seem to be told what to think. It almost seems as if the record of the narrator as provided by the narrator seems to be the only believable version, and it does not seem like we are given any reason to either doubt or question the voice. There also seems to be this underlying sense of immense appreciation. It is almost as if the narrator evaluates everything he encounters as if the sights are new, and the people are all unique. The narrator seems to be in awe. This has me wondering if the author could have achieved the same effect if he had chosen to make his main character a king or an ex-convict. I think that the fact that Yorick is a parson influences the tone of the story.
The narrator does not really spend a lot of time ruminating on the nature of the road he travels upon or on the number of houses he sees for instance,as is typical with Defoe, emphasis instead is on the select moments the narrator chooses to expatiate upon, and the people he chooses to bring to light. For instance, the author zeroes in on the story of the dead ass. He tells the story and concludes by saying that if only humans loved one another like the man loved his donkey, the world would be a better place in essence. With Richardson, it seems like we are being instructed in the way we should act and how we should approach problem situations, as exemplified by Pamela. With Sterne, however, it is almost as if the reader can hear the wistfulness in the narrator's tone. The reader is not being told that he/she is uncaring, even though the reader is obviously included in the narrator’s wistful generalization.. Instead, it seems that the narrator is lamenting what is, and what is prevalent. There seems to be an identification of the issue, but unlike Richardson or Fielding, it seems to be left there, as a suggestion.
There is definitely present in the story the theme of travel as well as self-discovery as a result of travel. Yorick not only leaves England but he steps out of his comfort zone and learns to see the world differently, as it is, or at least as he chooses to see it. This is seen in his relation to individuals of different socio-economic status.
There are also a number of references to emotions and feelings and sentiments. As others have already pointed out and we have briefly touched on in class, there also seem to be inherent references to gender differences. Would Yorick be considered manly for paying attention to the things he does?
"A Metro-Sexual Journey," and fun with gender
Both Alana and Kris raise very interesting points about gender in Sentimental Journey. I found myself wondering about some of the same issues while reading this novel. Aside from the completely fascinating study of gender in this novel, there seems to be a wealth of societal modes and overtones.
Each time I picked up this book, I examined the cover. I’m not sure how many of you have the same copy as I do: I have the penguin classic with the four men looking at a painting. What a great picture!! I still can’t get a read on it. The first time I looked at it, it seemed to me that the men were leering at the naked woman, with the man in blue smirking like a kid who knows he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. Later, as I looked at the cover throughout my reading, the men seem to be calmly critiquing the artistry of the painting, with their gaze focused mainly on the cherub in the corner. Now, after reading the book, I’m still undecided on which interpretation would be more appropriate. I go back and forth between the two extremes. I do the same when I read Yorick’s tales; my opinion of Yorick and his “sentimental” nature is all over the map.
First of all, I’m amazed at Yorick’s ability to solicit tears from those he comes into contact with. Seriously, amazed. Possibly unbelieving. Also, I wonder if perhaps Yorick is equating politeness with “sentiment.” In fact, I’m still not quite sure what this “sentimental” label is all about. The intro mentions Yorick’s “sympathy and charity towards those he meets on route,” but I am hesitant to believe that acts of kindness equal a “sentimental” label (xi).
Because I have a burning desire to relate everything to present day, I thought a little bit more about the concept of a “sentimental” man (sorry!). To me, the “sentimental” man that Sterne seems to be representing is similar to a “metro-sexual” man today. The Urban Dictionary defines a “metro-sexual” male as “A man with a woman's vanity,” also “good looking, stylish, fashionable, trendy, cultured, & well groomed.” The definition continues with “very conscious about his image and looks in public…believes in quality than quantity. definitely, not gay, always want to make sure he is up to date in fashion, style, and usually the trend maker…open to new things as long it is viable…just a man who cares a great deal about outward appearance and sensitivity.” (www.urbandictionary.com) Yorick seems to fit this definition absolutely and completely.
This novel makes me wonder about the state of the typical “man’s-man” in this time period. How much respect from other men would a “sentimental” man get? Yorick seems to be redefining his gender with traditionally feminine attributes; was this a common practice of men in this period? Is this an example of a “foppish” man? Were the women similarly elevated? Was this just a way for Yorick to get more action? By the way, Yorick seems to be extraordinarily focused on sex, especially for a priest!!
I really enjoyed this book. Sterne has a very light touch, and his method of interspersing dialogue and thought is intriguing. There’s a lot of stuff in this book, I can’t wait to discuss it!