Friday, 2 March 2018 04:40 pm
Book Review: The Scarlet Letter
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deckardcanineIn school, I read two Nathaniel Hawthorne works: the novel The House of the Seven Gables and the short story Rappacini's Daughter. Neither made me a fan of him, but I did see interesting elements in them. They had a way of walking the line between mere drama and fantasy. When I saw a small copy of TSL on a giveaway shelf and vaguely recalled my sister having been assigned it (later learning that both our parents had as well), I decided to give it a try.
In 17th-century Boston, Hester Prynne (ah, I'd encountered that name somewhere before) goes on trial because her baby, Pearl, is clearly not her long-absent husband's. Refusing to lighten her sentence by identifying the father, she is required to, among other things, wear a red "A" prominently on her clothes, effectively becoming a pariah. Her husband, apparently all too ashamed to be a cuckold, turns up with an alias, physician Roger Chillingworth, and swears her to secrecy. He appears to forgive her and even claims no vindictiveness toward the homewrecker, but he makes it his mission to find out who that is. Before long, heavy implications point readers to the answer: Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale.
The back cover says that the story is all about these three characters, but that doesn't do justice to the fourth party: Pearl, who, up to age 10, shows a rare amoral nature that reminds people of fairy tale creatures, as if to fulfill the stereotypes of "bastards." Some of her behavior hints at an intuitive knowledge of what the scandal was and who her father is; she certainly has a way of pulling him out of his comfort zone, albeit with an air of affection. That said, she doesn't do much to affect the plot after her birth. I guess she's almost like a twisted decoration, illustrating the essence of travails in the family.
Magical realism elements aside, the main intrigue is in the character-driven dynamics -- how they initially react and then play off each other. Hester, of course, doesn't welcome the letter, but she makes the best of her situation and tries to be as moral as possible thereafter (this includes rejecting an invitation to join a witch's circle). Arthur cannot bring himself to confess directly to the congregation but insists on his lowliness, which they take for sheer humble piety and applaud. He still has some kindly interactions with Hester, but they are hardly happy. "Roger" must sense Arthur's secret on some level, for he intervenes big-time, pretending to treat Arthur's physical symptoms of stress while making them worse with subtle psychological warfare.
I would hardly think to call a 19th-century man a feminist, but the story does highlight an unfair difference between men and women: When adultery (which I don't believe is ever actually spelled out in the text) results in pregnancy, only one of the perpetrators stands a good chance of hiding it. Hester's act was no worse than Arthur's, yet he remains an upstanding citizen in the public eye. Sure, it's within her power to bring him down too, but she likes him too much for that. Ironically, in the long run, things get worse for him than for her: While Hester gradually works her way back into people's esteem and finds peace, Arthur keeps feeling sicker and more damned. Regardless, they both have the apparent moral high ground over Roger, so consumed with vengeance that he loses touch with his humanity. I rather appreciate anti-revenge stories.
Action-wise, yes, it's rather slow. If I'd had to read it as a teen, I'd probably find it pretty dull, tho by no means my least favorite literature assignment. Instead, I found something highly compelling in Hawthorne's writing style. Maybe it's in the rich details of his thoughts, or maybe he just knows how to put a fine sentence together. While I usually didn't care to read many pages a day, at no point did I consider giving up on the book. Overall, it's pretty sweet.
One key warning: Avoid Hawthorne's lengthy introduction. It does not employ the same style and serves mainly to remind me of what a dusty kind of life he led. It's packed with tangential trivia and takes forever to get to the point. Despite the first-person narration, it's not even a true account of how he got the idea for the story. I almost get the impression he was trying to bore us.
My next reading is Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson, a purer fantasy. So far, it's kinda like The Way of Shadows.
In 17th-century Boston, Hester Prynne (ah, I'd encountered that name somewhere before) goes on trial because her baby, Pearl, is clearly not her long-absent husband's. Refusing to lighten her sentence by identifying the father, she is required to, among other things, wear a red "A" prominently on her clothes, effectively becoming a pariah. Her husband, apparently all too ashamed to be a cuckold, turns up with an alias, physician Roger Chillingworth, and swears her to secrecy. He appears to forgive her and even claims no vindictiveness toward the homewrecker, but he makes it his mission to find out who that is. Before long, heavy implications point readers to the answer: Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale.
The back cover says that the story is all about these three characters, but that doesn't do justice to the fourth party: Pearl, who, up to age 10, shows a rare amoral nature that reminds people of fairy tale creatures, as if to fulfill the stereotypes of "bastards." Some of her behavior hints at an intuitive knowledge of what the scandal was and who her father is; she certainly has a way of pulling him out of his comfort zone, albeit with an air of affection. That said, she doesn't do much to affect the plot after her birth. I guess she's almost like a twisted decoration, illustrating the essence of travails in the family.
Magical realism elements aside, the main intrigue is in the character-driven dynamics -- how they initially react and then play off each other. Hester, of course, doesn't welcome the letter, but she makes the best of her situation and tries to be as moral as possible thereafter (this includes rejecting an invitation to join a witch's circle). Arthur cannot bring himself to confess directly to the congregation but insists on his lowliness, which they take for sheer humble piety and applaud. He still has some kindly interactions with Hester, but they are hardly happy. "Roger" must sense Arthur's secret on some level, for he intervenes big-time, pretending to treat Arthur's physical symptoms of stress while making them worse with subtle psychological warfare.
I would hardly think to call a 19th-century man a feminist, but the story does highlight an unfair difference between men and women: When adultery (which I don't believe is ever actually spelled out in the text) results in pregnancy, only one of the perpetrators stands a good chance of hiding it. Hester's act was no worse than Arthur's, yet he remains an upstanding citizen in the public eye. Sure, it's within her power to bring him down too, but she likes him too much for that. Ironically, in the long run, things get worse for him than for her: While Hester gradually works her way back into people's esteem and finds peace, Arthur keeps feeling sicker and more damned. Regardless, they both have the apparent moral high ground over Roger, so consumed with vengeance that he loses touch with his humanity. I rather appreciate anti-revenge stories.
Action-wise, yes, it's rather slow. If I'd had to read it as a teen, I'd probably find it pretty dull, tho by no means my least favorite literature assignment. Instead, I found something highly compelling in Hawthorne's writing style. Maybe it's in the rich details of his thoughts, or maybe he just knows how to put a fine sentence together. While I usually didn't care to read many pages a day, at no point did I consider giving up on the book. Overall, it's pretty sweet.
One key warning: Avoid Hawthorne's lengthy introduction. It does not employ the same style and serves mainly to remind me of what a dusty kind of life he led. It's packed with tangential trivia and takes forever to get to the point. Despite the first-person narration, it's not even a true account of how he got the idea for the story. I almost get the impression he was trying to bore us.
My next reading is Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson, a purer fantasy. So far, it's kinda like The Way of Shadows.