“The French Lieutenant's Woman” by John Fowles: A Readerville discussion

John Fowles was one of the most revered writers of the 20th century, if perhaps not one of its best-known. His most famous book by far is this, The French Lieutenant's Woman, though that's largely attributable to the Meryl Streep film of the same name, which takes some notable and intriguing departures from the book. We'll no doubt be talking about both, but let's start with the book. And with that, we're off! ... view comments

Comments

[YvonneM.]

This was one of those books that was a bit difficult to get into and then when I did there were sometimes when is was just as frustrating as it was enjoyable.

Not one of my favorites but glad that I read it. Now I want to know why it's such an important book.

I need to refress my memory before I say much more.

[Gayla]

I'm about a third of the way into it and loving it so far.

[JamesPWallace]

I read this within five years of its initial publication; it was a pleasure to revisit it. This time through, though, I think I finally got what Fowles was going after...in part, that Sarah really was "Tragedy" in that she could never be herself except on the fringes of the Great Patriarchy (ruled by a woman!) that was the Victorian era.

I've been looking at Fowles' collection of essays, Wormholes, which includes some material on both the book and the film. More later.

[mara]

Yes, I thought the talk about "space" and "identity" and "freedom" was meaningful and held the key to the novel somehow, but I'm still thinking about it. Let us know what the essays say about the book and movie, James.

On a shallow note, I was thrown by Streep in the movie. She had far too much make up on, you know the 80s all-in-one pallet style where you rub the same pinky red color on your cheecks and lips. But I was impressed by the way she played the part - she did a good job of getting those opposites Fowles talked about (that receding, enticing, accusing, begging was it?)

[Karen Templer]

I'm only 30 pages in (argh!) but I think I'm in love with John Fowles.

[Kaethe]

How, so, Karen? I think Fowles understands the oppression of women better than most folks. He not only gets it, but he can write interesting stories about it. Now, does this mean I can convince you to read A Maggot?

[Karen Templer]

Well, I shouldn't conflate the author and the narrator, but I'm in love with the narrator's sense of humor (I'll try to post some examples when I get home) and I'm sort of in awe of the quotes Fowles has compiled for the opening of the chapters. I normally skip right past stuff like that, but the sheer volume of them is incredible and I was struck by the very first one, so I've been paying attention.

I'm also intrigued by his choice to have a modern-day narrator for this Victorian tale. I read an old Granta interview with him ages ago and I think that was addressed. I'll dig it up and post a link as soon as I get a chance.

And, yeah, no problem convincing me to read more Fowles after this one. He might be this year's Maugham for me.

[Gayla]

>I'm also intrigued by his choice to have a modern-day narrator for this Victorian tale.

Yes, that was one of the first things that struck me about the book.

The other thing I keep thinking about is the treatment of Sam and Mary. I just read Pickwick Papers a few months ago, and the major servant characters in that book are also named Sam and Mary. Their stories have some parallels (and divergences) that are surely deliberate.

There were also echoes of The Age of Innocence, I thought.

[mara]

That's interesting about Sam and Mary. Wonder if it was intentional. I love those books that interweave references to other novels. It's like a treasure hunt.

Oh I enjoyed the narrator's voice too. But I mainly noticed a keenness or pithiness in his descriptions. Humor didn't really stand out. Now I want to re read! That's why I love these discussions - always discovering unnoticed layers

[Karen Templer]

There is a Pickwick Papers reference somewhere in the first 50 pages, so I'd assume the parallels are deliberate. That's a Dickens I haven't read, so it's lost on me.

[Karen Templer]

It's pages 41-43 in the current paperback edition.

Of course, to us any Cockney servant called Sam evokes the immediately the immortal Weller; and it was certainly from that background that this Sam had emerged. But thrity years had passed since Pickwick Papers first coruscated into the world. ... He even knew of Sam Weller, not from the book, but from a stage version of it; and knew the times had changed. ...

[Karen Templer]

Me again. The sorts of lines that make me grin, that I was referring to earlier, are the little digs he takes at his characters, via his narrator:

For instance, on Charles not wanting to write history with Macaulay on the scene, or pursue science with Darwin alive, etc.: "You will see that Charles set his sights high. Intelligent idlers always have, in order to justify their idleness to the intelligence."

Or on Mrs. Poulteney: "Above all, with the memory of so many departed domestics behind her, the old lady abhorred impertinence and forwardness, terms synonymous in her experience with speaking before being spoken to and anticipating her demands, which deprived her of the pleasure of demanding why they had not been anticipated."

[Kaethe]

It may be time for a reread.

[mara]

Those are funny Karen. Now I can't wait to get home and look for more examples. I do remember laughing at the description of Charles in his archeologist get up.

I also liked the way the narrator's voice shifted a little for each character. He was a distant observer, yet he clearly felt toward each character differently. For Mrs. P he seemed disapproving but making concessions (she is such a product of her times), for Charles he always seemed bemused and openly analytical. But I thought he was most intensely interested in Sarah.

I mean, of course she is the focus of the book. But beyond that, I thought it was interesting that Fowles doesn't actually spend a lot of time talking about her compared with other characters (true?). But I thought the narrative distance he kept from Sarah showed his greater interest in her. It's almost as if he felt he had all the other characters "figured out" but he respected Sarah enough to keep a more objective distance. For her, he rarely inserts opinion or bemused commentary as he does with Charles and Ernestina and the rest, but let's her actions speak and allows them to be weighed against parallel examples (the doctors text book cases). But in the end she is the one character I felt had the most depth. It wasn't that Charles was flat, but that he was so completely fleshed out. I suppoose maybe the narrator and the reader's feelings towards the "dark lady" are supposed to parallel Charle's feelings towards her. I could be wrong, but that's the impression left with me.

[jim_wallace]

>It wasn't that Charles was flat, but that he was so completely fleshed out.

Good point, Mara. I still have trouble figuring out some of the things that Sarah did, but each of Charles' decisions was comprehensible. Maybe not too smart, or completely moral, but certainly comprehensible.

I do wonder how the Pre-Raphaelites got into the picture...did Fowles pick the period, and then try to fit her into an artistic community, or did he know all along that the Rossettis, et al., would be her destination, and set the time appropriately?

[mara]

I wasn't sure why the Pre-Raphaelites showed up either. Maybe we are supposed to know that she is happy so he set her up with patrons decidedly opposite from the suffocating Mrs. Poulteny. Another theory is that the way Sarah is descibed sounds a little like some of the P.F. women. Sarah posed for some paintings, we are told. In actuality, Lizzy Sewell (I think that's the right spelling) is the primary model for that look in Rossetti's work, with all kinds of stories (catching pneumonia at one point I think after having to be submerged in a cold bath for a portrait,etc.) But maybe Fowles wanted to give us some kind of immortalized image of the character by fixing her as a P.F. model. Come to think of it the P.F. paintings that show the Sarah-like faces vary between sexuality and tragedy.

[Karen Templer]

I'm still reading (dammit) and trying to refrain from comment until I'm done, for a change. I'm having no luck turning up that Granta interview I mentioned before, though I found it online at the time (a few years ago). I'll keep looking. But meanwhile, here's the 1969 NYTimes review, by Christopher Lehmann-Haupt.

A snippet:

But why, for Heaven's sake, a Victorian novel in this day and age of RobbÈ-Grillet? What is this practitioner of flawed Gothica ("The Collector" and "The Magus") up to now? Here quickly arises another element of suspense. For it is also clear from page 1 on that Mr. Fowles is not going to be satisfied merely with witty (and often brilliantly erudite) anachronistic comments on the manners, morals, literature, art and science of a century before. Not only will something surprising happen to the story of "The French Lieutenant's Woman;" something will happen to the form of the book as well. And the prospect adds immeasurably to the suspense.

[Nancy Nolan]

I stumbled onto this discussion by accident and am so glad I did - I've been a Fowles fan for years, but it's been years since I read him. This has inspired me to pick up FLW again. And for those who haven't read his other books, please do pick up The Collector, The Magus, and Daniel Martin, too. Wonderful writing.

[Karen Templer]

Hi, Nancy — nice to hear from you.

Do you have lingering thoughts on the book from your previous read?

[Gayla]

I suppose this is off-topic, but I was completely freaked out by The Collector when I was 16 years old. I've never forgotten it because at the time it was the most unsettling thing I'd ever read.

[Karen Templer]

I bought it at the same time as I bought this one, not knowing a thing about it. Then I saw this. So maybe my next Fowles will be something else instead.

[Karen Templer]

I finished the book and I'm at a bit of a loss. Meaning, I don't get it — either what's supposed to have transpired, exactly, or what the fuss is all about. But I have no doubt whatsoever that it can all be ascribed to having read the book 5 pages at a time for 5 weeks.

Still, I'll be mulling.

For those who love it, what would you say are it's finest traits? I'm not trying to put anyone on the spot — just sincerely wanting to hear some thoughts.

[Gayla]

I loved the way it was written. I loved that the narrator was very self-consciously looking at the Victorian era from the viewpoint of the twentieth century. But primarily for me, I think, I loved it because I've been reading a lot of Dickens lately and The French Lieutenant's Woman felt like a corrective to some of Dickens's blind spots--his class biases, and his handling of female characters.

[Karen Templer]

Thanks, Gayla. (Anybody else?) I agree on all of those points. But the tale itself left me a bit cold. I definitely didn't find it to be the engrossing page-turner that the various blurbers and reviewers found it to be.

I have the movie in hand at this point and am looking forward to seeing it. I'm aware of the framing device they came up with, so am fully prepared for that.

[Karen Templer]

I watched the movie last night and my reaction is almost exactly the same as to the book. I thought the filmmaking was quite great, the screenwriting was genius — particularly the way they worked out still having two endings, one happy one sad — but the story itself bored me to tears. I actually fell asleep in the middle of it!

I thought it was interesting, too, how the movie people went for contrast where Fowles went for commentary. I actually think I liked the movie better than the book (despite the movie-within-the-movie feeling like a Cliffs Notes edition), and that's a thing I rarely say.

[Maya]

I just found this in box of books on the sidewalk, picked it up, and now here you all are discussing it!

[Karen Templer]

Hi, Maya!

[Maya]

Hiya, Karen.

OK, so I've finished FLW, and I'm...puzzled. In good ways and bad ways.

I really enjoyed most of it. I felt what he was doing with the modern narrator paralleled what we modern types all do when reading a period novel. At least I do it -- parse the characters, try to reframe it in a way my modern mind can understand.

I don't like it so much when he goes on about hey, these aren't real people, simply because I know that but I don't want to know that, and thus I assume that's what he intends with those asides.

But beyond all that, I was just confused about Sarah. I really have no clue why she acted as she did. No, that's not true, I understand the slouching and scarlet-lettering around Lyme, or at least I can imagine a person enjoying a sort of martyrdom of shame. But I don't really know why she does the other, later things.

Plus I wonder...the author flipped a coin, why do we still get two endings?