I thought I was reasonably “well read”, to coin an old-fashioned term, and I suppose by comparison with that bloke on the Clapham omnibus (is he still there?) I probably am. I read. And I read a lot. Witness this blog – nearly six years now. Philip Hensher however, leaves me on the starting line. I am in awe of the research and reading which has gone into this comprehensive, fascinating account of the development of the British novel.
The first novel in English was Robinson Crusoe (1719), Hensher asserts. That concurs with what I learned at college, and have always believed despite the Open University’s later attempts to convince me of novel status for Pilgrims’s Progress or even The Canterbury Tales. These earlier works are fictions but novels, when they arrived, were something – err novel – largely because the only way an enterprising chap like Defoe could make a living out of writing, in an era without copyright law, was to keep selling his publisher increasingly innovative material so that the price went on rising. Moreover, eighteenth century novels (cf Fielding, Richardson, Sterne) gradually became more colourful with details included for verisimilitude rather than for any specific narrative reason.
And, of course, it all took off in the nineteenth century from Jane Austen to Thomas Hardy and beyond. Dickens, contends Hensher, is the best novelist Britain has ever produced and it’s hard to disagree with that. He discusses the development of the first-person narrative and the “adventures of” format and comments in passing on the brief moment when Trabb’s boy mocks the pretentious Pip in Great Expectations and, yes, it’s masterly. Trollope is discussed at some length, especially in the context of series of books, and I certainly agree with Hensher that the scene in Barchester Towers in which the exotic Stanhopes upstage the humourless, anxious Proudies is one of the funny passages of situation comedy I’ve ever read.
Most nineteenth century novels first appeared serialised in magazines (Dickens owned some of them along with Wilkie Collins) and were subsequently published as three volume novels – the famous “three decker”. Now, I knew about Mudie’s Circulating Library – it’s mentioned in The Importance of Being Earnest and it often cropped up in the contemporary journals I had to research in connection with my long ago MA in nineteenth century poetry. I had no idea, though, of the influence it wielded and the censorious stranglehold it had on novelists. Charles Edward Mudie, a religious man of puritanical persuasion, founded his lending and subscription library in 1842 to serve the needs of an increasingly literate population who couldn’t afford to buy expensive books. He wanted three decker novels and he was judgemental about the appropriateness of the content. His business grew rapidly and soon publishers made their decisions based on whether or not they could sell a goodly number of copies to Mudie’s. In the end an 1890s decision by the company (Mudie himself died in 1870) no longer to buy them killed the three decker format almost overnight.
In the course of all this and as Hensher inches towards the 20th century (his remit ends at 2000, although of course he makes forward references) we meet the ground-breaking George Moore – an author I’ve never read but will now. Also up for discussion along with authors like DH Lawrence, Virginia Woolf, Iris Murodch. James Joyce, Elizabeth Taylor and Martin Amis and many dozens of others. What were they doing which broke new ground? The interesting thing is that the content of novels – the plots – have changed little. Historical, speculative, supernatural and fantasy fiction have all been around for a long time. It’s the style of storytelling which gives a novel its novelty although most things have been tried before. Dickens, for example, was using “ungrammatical” sentences without verbs and starting sentences with conjunctions in the mid nineteenth century. Authors have been dropping into the present tense for centuries too.
Hensher is good on The Lord of the Rings which he says we’ve all read. (I haven’t). He points out that it’s clearly derivative, citing Dickens, Wagner and others so that it isn’t in fact, especially original. I really struggle with any form of fantasy and this one is, I’m afraid, still definitely on my shan’t-read list along with Ulysses and Orlando, for different reasons.
Book prizes – a plethora these days – are an interesting development because they, as Mudie’s once did, influence what publishers select and have done since the 1950s. Short novels, for example, go down well with judging panels. And, as ever, taste is affected by fashion.
I am humbled by Hensher’s reading and now have a TBR (to be read) list/pile which will undoubtedly outlive me. I read A History of the Novel in Britian via Kindle as I do most things. I am, however so taken with it that I’ve ordered a hardback copy as well. I need to be able to refer to it and that’s much easier with a physical book. I want it as a reference book at hand on the shelves over my desk. I don’t recall ever before reading a book and then immediately buying it in different format. That’s quite a testament to the strength of this one.
Next week on Susan’s Bookshelves: The Wine-Dark Sea by Victoria Hislop
