Villette
By: Charlotte Brontë / Narrated By: Davina Porter
Length: 22 hrs and 39 mins
Loved it, but Lucy Snowe ain’t no Jane Eyre…
Rather, Villette is a study of a passive female trying to get along in a patriarchal world. Like Jane of Jane Eyre, Lucy is a plain heroine who must make her own way in an unkind world. And she does. So huzzah for Lucy… but… at over 22 hours, and with this being my third encounter with Villette, first read, past two listened, I can honestly say that if another thing “just happened” to Lucy, if she stood by just one more time? Oh my dear Accomplice, I was aaaaaallll for SCREEEaming m’ head off.
Make no mistake, however. This is glORIOUSly written. You can’t beat the language. The Brontës are my favorite siblings in the world. And on and on and on. You get the drift? Brontë good, Villette? Not so much.
-BUT-
Listen to it cuz “Brontë good”.
Our story opens with Lucy Snowe in a months-long visit with her godmother, Mrs. Bretton, and the woman’s son, Graham. Soon, Mrs. Bretton takes in a child whose papa shall be traveling in an effort to work through grief, and the little girl shall be needing a place to stay. This is the exceeeeedingly precocious Polly who, while being likable enough with Lucy, is positively SMITTEN with Graham. We see her as she rests her wee head ‘pon his lap; we listen as she begs a tasty bit o’ cake for Graham from his good mama. Graham is an older boy, however, so while he’s very fond of her, thinks her an odd little thing in an agreeable way? Well, he’s his school chums to hang out with, his studies to get to. And soon Polly has to join her papa anyway, so that’s about a few hours of I don’t know what.
Off to Lucy’s family suffering some sort of financial misfortune and she’s to make her own way in the world by some means. One Miss Marchmont, a somewhat rheumatic and crippled elderly woman, summons her and sees if Lucy might become her nurse and companion. While Lucy’s childhood had been filled with play and the outdoors, her Now shall become sitting with the old woman, tending the woes, feeling nary a breath of fresh air. But Lucy makes no complaint, is fond of the woman, and the two get along quite well until… Yup, Miss Marchmont, after a few hours one stormy night, where she feels spry and giddy and just like she’s turning the corner with her ailments, ups and dies in her bed.
Off to Lucy kinda going bonkers with zippo money to her name, crossing the Channel and winding up in France. She winds up at a girls’ school in the fictional town of Villette, asking for assistance, employment, whatever she can do and, as she’s no references, stands there as her character is assessed by a man with an acerbic tongue and a discerning eye. Her earnestness, the honesty of her expression passes the test and then we’re on to day by day by day of her life amongst the pupils and to where we see her growing relationship to the contrarian, M. Paul Emanuel. At first their relationship seems adversarial (The dude glowers and snipes and goes through her belongings!), but Lucy soon realizes that Paul has her best self in mind when he offers his scathing rebukes. Seriously, if she didn’t always smile whilst rebutting his avowals of this that and the other derogatory offerings, I would’ve had to chuck the book.
Life goes on, the relationship develops into fondness, a friendship blossoms when she finds Mrs. Bretton and Graham again, soon Polly, and tra la la until things start coming to a head in the last few hours of the book. Lucy and Paul’s friendship is challenged by the fact that he’s a deVOUt Catholic, and she’s obviously a Satan-worshipping Protestant. I kid, but seriously, there’s a good old-fashioned Holy War as Lucy is attacked in an effort to convert her. But we see her faith is true, the relationship is true, and then all ends ambiguously.
The first time I read Villette, that blasted ending DEVastated me! This time, I was expecting the same bangs and whistles, but I discovered it was really ended as more of a whimper, an uncertain one at that. But alas, try as I might to cock my head and view it all juuuuuust so? Nope, I couldn’t make the ending mean anything more positive, and danged if I didn’t feel any less bummed. Add aaaallll the times Lucy wished to act but didn’t, all the time Life and Circumstances were conspiring against her, and she just stood there, hidden in the shadows, and the whole 22 1/2+ hours coulda been wretched.
Two things kept me going. The first was that Lucy had a wild heart. The fiercer the storm that blew up, the more she wanted to be out there on the roof, feeling the might and the wind and the fury of the storm, alive with delight and thrilled to her marrow. Often, when she could NOT act because of the society she lived in, her meager expectations, she succumbed to nervous fevers, as though her body just couldn’t find peace between wanting so much joy and excitement and knowing that her lot in life was at a girls’ school, where the lives of even the beautiful and privileged young women she taught could end in marriage and childrearing only.
The second thing? Oh goodness: Davina Porter!!! I loved her comedic timing in the “Poor Relation” series so much that I knew the woman was talented. But I remembered her work there with such keenness that I feared she might kinda sorta make me laugh where it wasn’t intended (Cuz seriously! If you’ve never listened to the series, she is a fearlessly riotous narrator!). Ahhh, but no, she was purely, simply, golden here. Sometimes I questioned how old Lucy came off but, for the most part, Ms. Porter nailed it, nailed the plethora of characters, the many and varied accents (What’s a Scotsman doing in France? Raising a lovely young daughter, of course). Whether it was a little child shyly handing a note across, or it was a fire and brimstone Pére trying to convert her if he can, damn her to Hell if he couldn’t, or if it was a flighty and giggly girl plotting romantic trysts, or it was M. Paul Emanuel who was either cross or brimming with joy, Ms. Porter managed all so very well. And considering the simply BEAUUUUtiful language of Charlotte Brontë? Not a bit was lost on mangled narration; all was just so very lovely.
If you enjoyed Jane Eyre, this book might make you feel a trifle edgy. After all, Jane had to make do, but she was a young woman of determination, of action. Lucy, on the other hand, is a young woman who’s come to realize that sometimes trying is of no use; the chips will land where they may despite one’s best efforts, one’s greatest longings.
A sobering thought, but sooo beautifully written, sooo wonderfully narrated. It’s just that, through all that loveliness, I had to fight back the urge to screeeeam every now and again.
So sue me…
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