Villette by Charlotte Bronte

*spoilers*

I love Jane Eyre, so I expected to love Villette too. I think I do? It's just that it was more depressing, without a clearly happy ending, and somehow an even more slow-moving plot. I took a break in the middle of it and kind of forgot things that happened, because the narrator will just casually mention things that turn out to be important later, but by the time that happens you'll have forgotten it. Also, p. much all the French parts are untranslated, which is supremely unhelpful if you don't read/speak French. Thank God for the Google Translate app, which has the real-time text-translator. In the app, you just point your camera to the page and it will translate a block of text for you. I was able to get the gist of what was being said thanks to that, the few dozen words I know of French, and my knowledge of Italian and Spanish. I really wish the edition I'd bought simply because of Mallory Ortberg's introduction had footnotes with what they were saying in English, or even endnotes. It's like that in Jane Eyre, but there's wayyyyy more French in Villette due to its setting. I really do not get the reasoning behind not having translations for the French parts. It drives me nuts.

Bronte's heroines are simultaneously unnecessarily dramatic and irritatingly passive, and are in a way rather identifiable if you're a shy emotionally stunted bookish introvert like me. Lucy is forever looking for private places to read letters or walk by herself, yet she almost goes insane because everyone left the school over break and she was almost entirely alone. She contemplates converting to Catholicism because she's so desperate for kindness and companionship, but she also hides away her feelings from everyone, including the reader. Lucy is surprisingly assertive in some things (sailing to France by herself without knowing a soul there in the hopes she'll find employment, taking charge of her first class by shoving the most troublesome student in the coal closet and locking her in, playing a male rake character in the school play) yet annoyingly passive in others (quietly taking M. Emanuel's criticism and bullying when they're just coworkers and he doesn't have any right to be treating her that way, being like "lol classic Mme. Beck" whenever her boss spies on her and not-so-secretly rifles through her stuff). Perhaps Lucy doesn't mind Mme. Beck spying on her because she's so used to being invisible and overlooked that she likes being paid attention to. That might also explain why she lets M. Emanuel harangue her like he does.

The author's love for brooding hunx rears its head in the final love interest. When it comes to M. Emanuel (also called M. Paul, which really confused me until almost at the end his entire name is given, Paul Something Something Emanuel), the first two-thirds of the book are spent showing us what a petty tyrant he is towards everyone, especially Lucy, then the last third of the book is spent telling us what a great guy he is and how desperate he is for Lucy's friendship and affection just as she's desperate for affection from the world at large. It's rather bipolar. If a man treats you like that, bossing you around and constantly berating you then turning around to act all remorseful and nice, you should not be in a relationship with him. That's abusive behavior.

Another typical aspect of the Bronte heroine, always dressing as plain, boring and gloomy as possible, is mostly continued, as Lucy is godmother-pressured into wearing a pink (!) dress with black lace. Jealous because Lucy was with her guy friend from childhood, M. Paul starts raging at her about how shallow, frivolous and worldly she is with her scarlet dress. ??? Like have you even met her? It does turn into bantering kinda at the end, with both of them like tsundere teasing each other, but I still don't buy it. I need to read Charlotte Bronte's other books, but it's interesting to me that both her plain heroines have two love interests: an age-appropriate handsome boring guy who's good on paper, and an older not handsome dark brooding/raging weirdo, and the latter is the one she always chooses (by default in Lucy's case, but still).

tl;dr I did like this book. Wikipedia says it's really more about Lucy's psychological state than about the plot, which is accurate. It's definitely worth reading if you like Jane Eyre, although don't expect it to be the exact same. It's slower, more depressing, and less Gothic (although there is a bit there). 4/5

Science Fiction & Fantasy class essays: Grimm's Fairy Tales

I took an online class on Coursera, Fantasy and Science Fiction: The Human Mind, Our Modern World. Each week we read a different book or some short stories and had to write a short essay. This is the one I wrote after reading Children's and Household Tales, a translation of Grimm's Fairy Tales into English by Lucy Crane with illustrations by Walter Crane. The above link isn't the online version I read but I can't find it because the class is over and I can't access any resources :(
I did okay with this one; I don't remember my classmates giving me too much criticism.

“The Three Spinsters” and “Rumpelstiltskin”

“The Three Spinsters” is a tale much like the better-known “Rumpelstiltskin”. Three women with unusually large body parts (those used most often in spinning) take the place of the eponymous gnome, and they simply spin flax quickly, rather than spinning it into gold. They save the girl twice: from having to spin three rooms’ worth of flax, and from ever having to spin again. The spinsters meet a happier end than Rumpelstiltskin; they are fêted at the new princess’ table as her cherished relations. It struck me how female-centric this version of the surrogate spinner(s) is: the girl’s mother lets her go with the queen who offers her son to the girl (rather than the other way around!) as a prize for spinning the flax which the spinsters save her from. This is a marked contrast to “Rumpelstiltskin”’s sole girl being at the mercy of men--father, king, messenger, and Rumpelstiltskin. The only male in “The Three Spinsters” is the prince-prize the girl marries, who is rude and impertinent, controlled by his mother and duped by his wife and the spinsters. This female-centeredness makes sense, as the story revolves around spinning flax, traditionally a woman’s job (especially unmarried women, hence the modern definition of spinster). The “Spinsters” women are portrayed as softer and more moral than the “Rumpelstiltskin” men: the mother lies from embarrassment rather than pride, and the queen is more merciful, as she doesn’t get angry when no thread is spun after three days and doesn’t threaten the girl with death if she fails her task. The spinsters ask only to be honored as family, rather than for jewelry or the firstborn child. In the end, the mother is freed from her lazy daughter, the queen gets spun thread, the spinsters get honored, and the girl gets her prince and out of spinning forever. Might the moral of the story be that everybody wins when women run the show?

Women in nineteenth-century literature

How good how kind how pure how lovely
How dead how very very dead