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Charles Dickens – Great Expectations (1860-1)

The orphan Pip is brought up by his sister and her husband Joe Gargery, a blacksmith. One night Pip encounters a convict in the cemetry, and he does him an act of kindness which the convict, who will turn out to be Magwitch, Mr. Provis and Mr. Campbell all in one, will never forget. He soon goes to Miss Havisham’s house to be a playmate with Estella. He starts to become ashamed of himself and his lower-cultured childhood friends. He becomes and apprentice with Joe, and works alongside Orlick, who is a sort of double that plays out all the crimes that Pip almost commits but never does. [An instance of shadowing the protagonist with doubles, sorta like Bertha Rochester and Jane Eyre.] Pip receives an inheritance (via Jaggers) from an unknown source, but he assumes it is from Miss Havisham. This enacts the processes of accumulation that correlate with the field of desire associated with Miss Havisham.  But he soon gets into debt and it is revealed that Abel Magwitch–and it is further revealed that he is the father of Estella (her mother is Molly, Jagger’s housemaid). Pip tells Havisham this story, she stands to close the fire and dies from her injuries, despite Pip’s attempts to save her. Magwitch is arrested and dies; Pip is about to be put into debtor’s prison, but he gets sick, and then is nursed back to health by Joe. He returns to Joe’s home, where they have had a child named Pip [cf. Sydney Carton at the end of Tale]. He visits Stalis house, where he meets Estella. It’s ambiguous whether they marry or not.

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Guilt vs. desire – One can frame Pip’s two worlds according to this tension. Pip is marked by guilt from the very beginning, as his actual inheritance. The world of desire, or lack, is associated with Havisham and Estella. Cognitively adjusting to the knowledge that his inheritance comes from guilt rather than desire entails a confrontation with a world of crime that does not square with the tenants of individuality and subjectivity he had adopted in the middle part of the book. Rather, crime seems somehow universal: Magwitch somehow emerges from the landscape, he is an atmosphere of sorts. Pip himself will toggle between these two spheres.

Is Pip being a bad reader because he has not yet grown up? (structure of dramatic irony to deal with how these things can be known at all) Contrast this with Maisie (does not give signification, only registers impressions). As an example of better reading by way of negative contrast: Magwitch shows Pip how he acted poorly towards Joe. But where do we locate this knowledge?

In David Copperfield, the impetus to give full signification (retrospective and fully) is the same impulse as in Great Expectation (Pip as narrator does know things that phenomena subject does not know) but sometimes we just get the narrated Pip and we see his ignorance negatively. In the end, Pip the narrator and narrated converge but there is not a full knowledge. Indeed, the reduplication of Pip as a young boy points to the “bad infinity” that could ensue: the second Pip is able to effectively truncate the narrative with a new beginning. And to the degree that “family” is posited as a source of final cohesion, it should be noted that Pip is excised from that family.

Two ends in Great Expectation: 1. very clear that Estella and Pip don’t get married 2.  you don’t know whether they get married or not, structurally undecideable.

More broadly: Can think of Thackeray, Dickens and Trollope as obsessed with evidentiary character of narration, must give an account fo how the narrative has come into being. On the other hand, Eliot, Hardy and James fully accept the arbitrary nature of the narrative–they can’t justify it, so they just start. [in Hardy in particular, one has the sense that anyone walking along a road could furnish the novelist with a story]

 

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Jean Rhys – Wide Sargasso Sea (1966)

A “rewrite” of Jane Eyre, this novel tells the back-story of Bertha Rochester (Antoinette Cosway) before she is locked in the attic at Thornfield. Antoinette is a white creole living in Jamiaca, the daughter of a slave-owner and a mother who is purportedly crazy. Her nurse/maid  is Christophine, who plays a similar roll to St. John Rivers (neither novel can fully contain their stories). At a young age, Antoinette’s house is burnt down, following the Emancipation of slaves. After a brief sejour in a convent (her mother has moved to the countryside) her step-father Mr. Mason “provides for her” by arranging a marriage between her an unnamed man from England, presumably Mr. Rochester. He narrates the second part of the novel, which tells of their marriage that goes through a honeymoon phase before souring completely. Rochester has married for money, and now he feels the burden of having what some angry quack has called a “madwoman.” He readily adopts these fears, believing that Antoinette, Christophine and the entire Jamaican landscape harbor the secret that will destroy him (the secret turns out to be nothing other than the violence of colonial slavery). Antoinette, whom he violently renames Bertha, want shim to love her, so has Christophine (who practices the magical obeah) give him a “love potion” that makes him sick.  Ant moves with Christophine to some place in the countryside where she attempts to recover from an illness. The third section opens with Antoinette now narrating. She is in England, being nursed and jailed by Grace Poole. She  assaults he step-brother Richard Mason after he does not “recognize” her. She then burns down the house, but not before seeing herself in the mirror as the ghost that haunts Thornfield Hall.

As re-writing of Jane Eyre, the political consequences of Rhys’ novel cuts both ways. On the one hand, it gives a face and history to a character that, in the original, was merely a “madwoman in the attic” that needed to be repressed for Jane’s emergence as chaste, moral, properly feminine, etc. But Spivak argues, convincingly, that such an argument appropriates the form of individualization that radical feminism, and critique more generally, should unsettle or reject. In Spivak’s reading, Bertha self-immolates so that Jane can emerge as the individualized feminist heroine  of European literature. The true Other, Christophine, remains outside this circuit of Western literature, the dialogue between literary feminists, because she is not just a white Creole, but a servant that is displaced from her home country Martinique from the very beginning.

Interesting endpoint for looking at the trope of the looking-glass. Antoinette sees herself in Tia just as the latter the latter throw a rock at her head. She herself in the eyes of the other. What are the ethical stakes of this identification. How does it differ from the self-recognition that occurs at the end of the novel, where Antoinette sees herself as the necessary sacrifice for the emergence of Jane Eyre/Jane Eyre? Connect to Wilde’s comments on cracked looking-glass, Joyce on cracked looking glass, and deKoven on mirrors, water, etc.

Mother-daughter text – Rhys’ novel is the daughter text that seeks to be the mother text. Compare to Zadie Smith’s rewriting of Howard’s End.

Literary history – the patronymic in the form of English literature is eaten away as Rochester scans the decaying book collection at the old mansion.

Narration – Rochester granted the role of narrator for all of second part. Does this render him sympathetic? Perhaps. Talk about the novel as Antoinette’s “quest” for a voice. The opening section’s voice is able to ventriloquize the thoughts of the town itself…the voice of the third section has fully imbricated itself into a text that has already been written. How qualified is that power of writing? Connect to the emergence of Stephen’s voice at the end of Portrait.

E.M. Forster – Howard’s End (1910)

Start off with letters written from Helen Schlegel to her sister Margaret about her  (Helen’s) stay with the Wilcoxes. She’s fallen in love with youngest son Paul, which sparks a minor scandal. Mrs. Wilcox, the elm-tree symbolizing everything old and passing in England, settles everything. Time passes. Helena and Meg, and their younger brother Tibby (figure for Forster), go to a Beethoven concert where they meet Leonard Bast because Helen accidentally took is umbrella. The Wilcoxes move to London and Meg and Mrs. Wilcox become friends. Meg almost goes to Howard’s End but Mrs. Wilcox dies (she leaves the house to Meg, but Henry burns the letter). Mr. Wilcox pursues and eventually marries Meg while the Schlegels are moving everything out of their childhood home. Meanwhile, Leonard, who had been advised by Henry Wilcox to change jobs, loses it all together and teeters on the abyss. Helen is upset with Wilcox, who dismisses the lower classes, whereas Helen has fairly naive notion of charitable efficacy. Meg and Henry go up North to one of his houses. Helen shows up with Bast and his wife, both of whom are basically homeless , and Helen sleeps with Bast, gets pregnant, and leaves the country. It turns out that Henry had slept with Mrs. bast while married to Mrs. Wilcox. Helen eventually returns, pregnant. Tibby accidentally tells Charles Wilcox that Leonard Bast is the father. Henry tires to take control of the situation from a moral high ground that Meg undercuts by drawing attention to their parallel situations. Charles rushes back to Howard’s End at the same time that Leonard has turned up to apologize. He hits him the dull edge of the family sword and a bunch of books fall on him. He dies from a heart attack and Charles goes to prison. Henry never recovers. Meg, Helen, Henry and Helen’s child all live at Howard’s End, while London continues to encroach.

Key Passages:

The mask fell off the city, and she [Margaret] saw it for what it really is—a caricature of infinity. The familiar barriers, the street along which she moved, the houses between which she had made her little journeys for so many years, became negligible suddenly. Helen seemed one with the grimy trees and the traffic and the slowly flowing slabs of mud. She had accomplished a hideous act of renunciation and returned to the One. Margaret’s own faith held firm. She knew the human soul will be merged, if it be merged at all, with the stars and the sea. Yet she felt her sister had been going amiss for some years. It was symbolic the catastrophe should come now, while rain fell slowly.

An instance of the “One” that does so much work in this novel: Forster is self-conscious about the position his characters and his narrator take up towards reality–the one is only as inclusive as it is exclusive. And connect this to the “bridge party” in Passage to India, where someone “needs” to be excluded if it is going to mean anything. The exclusion in Howard’s End is overt:

We are not concerned with the very poor. They are unthinkable, and only to be approached by the statistician or the poet. This story deals with gentlefolk, or with those who are obliged to pretend that they are gentlefolk. (45)

Leonard Bast is constantly teetering on the borders of the narrative scope, “a goblin footfall” intimating the abrupt intrusion of the “unseen” on the “seen.” That these metaphysical categories, associated with the Schlegel “German” social idealism, map neatly onto the exclusionary politics of London society is exactly the point. In this way, it can be connected to “one of us” in Conrad’s Lord Jim, or the more overtly compromised “good people” in Ford’s The Good Soldier. Meg becomes conscious of the economic underpinnings that make possible the point of view assumed by the narrator: “islands of money” that cannot be shaken is what distinguishes her from Leonard, who always looks into the abyss. The concept of the abyss can be connected to New Grub Street‘s Reardon, who likens the process of writer’s block to walking near both a creative and economic abyss.

The concept of pastoral is also crucial: Howard’s End is slowing losing ground to the suburbs of London. Forster calls it the Age of Luggage, in which the English, no longer rooted to land, are reduced to nomads. Interesting in light of Marx’s stuff on the transition from Feudalism to Capitalism More locally, could be thought of in terms of Disareli’s “Two Englands.” that maintained a symbolic feudalism supposed to stem the cultural decline associated with capital flow.

Device vs. symbol: the wych-elm as organic symbol, the umbrella as a device that shed light on various social categories.

The ending is somehow too perfect. What is took to get to that ending: a couple deaths, an unwanted pregnancy,  and an arrest.

Also, in terms of ethics, Forster seems to be playing with the fine line between personal and systemic failures–how doe they differ and how do they converge. Can we think of personal failures as the realm of morals, and systemic failures (doing something that’s “right” but nevertheless “wrong”) as the realm of ethics? Meg finds herself negotiating these questions often.

Connect to Zadie Smith’s On Beauty, which is supposed to be a re-writing of Howard’s End. My question from Dori Hale’s class:

If a novel is meant to stand in a complicated mimetic relation to the raw material of a shared world, then what is at stake when the raw material becomes (at least in part) a shared text? The arena of critique—that convergence of text and world—becomes doubled by the convergence of text and text. Smith’s project, I want to suggest, dramatizes the non-coincidental agreement between these two convergences. The image of a rectangle (a semiotic rectangle?) presents itself. Each novel exists in horizontal relation to their perspective worlds (England 1900/America 2000) and these two relations are in vertical relation to one another.

So, concretely, the reader is asked to mediate this rectangle with questions that are always doubled: 1) Is Smith accurately representing the politics of a small liberal arts faculty? 2) Is Smith accurately translating Forster’s portrait of early 20th-century English class dynamics into the tangle of race/class dynamics of a 21st century New England college town? The doubled-question often requires a doubled, internally fractured answer: where answering affirmative to the first requires answering in the negative to second, and visa-versa. This does two things:

1) It makes a case for the strong relevance of an historical text to our cotemporary world, but qualifies this claim by enacting a creative appropriation (reading/writing) of the text as the pre-condition for relevance. Read this way, On Beauty is a long allegory for the practice of good reading. I’m thinking here of folks like Miller, Derrida, and Guillory, all of whom claim that (close) reading is the ethical practice par excellence. Wouldn’t mind talking about this claim in context of Smith.

2) According to the introduction to Thinking Allegory Otherwise, a recent collection of essays published by Stanford UP (don’t recall it, I’ll know it was you!), “The standard definition for “allegory” is to say one thing and mean another. Allegory has always demanded that we think otherwise” (7). What is this otherwise? In the case of On Beauty, I think it might be those spaces of non-coincidence, when the rectangle I described earlier fails to contain the doubled mimesis of text-world/text-text. So, this second point dramatizes the failure of the first, and the novel becomes a way of measuring these failures.

Where does this happen in the text? This is a question that needs asking, because Smith’s novel demands that we hear “Where does this happen in the world” each time we ask it. I’m not up to the task just now.

 

Jane Austen – Sense and Sensibility (1811)

The novel can be summarized by listing a whole bunch of doubles: thematic, ideological, charaterological, etc. In short, Marianne Dashwood, with much “sensibility,” is educated into being more sensible, like her sister, Elinor Dashwood. The parallel lives of these sisters, one marrying the reserved, old Colonel Brandon and the other the somewhat irresolute, flaky Edward Ferrars, constitute the plot. Willoughby, who picks up and drops Marianne, is a free radical of sorts, playing double to many different characters. How he is read determines the interpretation of the novel as whole (much like the reading of Heathcliff determines Wuthering Heights).

The setting moves between Delaford, Barton, and London, the latter being completely fraught with chaotic social upheavel and emotional crises. THe countryside is pastoral in all the expected ways. There is a long discourse on COTTAGES, which are at once picturesque and genuinely authentic emblems of simple, rustic, moral living, but also (in Robert Ferrars’ judgment) objects of tourism and vacation…

The novel is in dialogue with Adam Smith’s Theory of Moral Sentiments. Elinor and Brandon epitomize Smith’s ideal of deservedness and propriety, concealing emotion and accommodating expressiveness according to the given situation—the betterment of the community is first and oremost. Marianne (with a name that harkens back to the French revolution and the jacobins) is dangerously individualistic, and this also turns out to be Willoughby’s error, rather malicious deceit. Likewise, Fanny Dashwood (wife of Elinor and Marianne’s brother John) and Lucy Steele (one time lover of Edward and later wide of Robert) are portraits of individualistic and selfish desire gone unchecked. [Put this in dialogue with the shifting attitudes to community in Wuthering Heights as it moves between romantic and Victorian mores…)

Connect Smith with larger tropes of concealment, veiling, propriety, etc.

Narration: Imbedded narrators include Willoughby (competent self-narrator), Brandon (awkward narrator), Mrs. Jennings (rumor mill), and others. Austen imbeds these narrators and uses them to focalize and counter-focalize the action. There is also an explicit training of the reader, especially in the mode of correct comparison—which demands not only the correct drawing of contrasts, but also the correct choice of binary. Reader is trained alongside Marianne.

Cause and Effect (Cynthia Chase) is complicated in the novel.

Eliza, an orphan loved by Brandon and disabused by Willougby, is yet another portrait of the problems of urbanism. Counterpoint Petter Brooks’ claim that orphan status represents social mobility and possibility rather than misery.

Edward, like Daniel Deronda, is unemployed and undirected man to begin with, and needs other to set his course for him. This is the case with many characters: their happy outcomes are shownt o be the explicit result of a social web that is not entirely savory. Elinor and Edward’s union is premised on Lucy’s selfish ambition.

Jane Austen – Northanger Abbey (p. 1817)

Catherine Morland, great reader of Gothic fiction, goes to Bath with her neigbors Mr. and Mrs. Allen. She meets Isabella Thorpe, who loves her borther James Morland, who is a friend of John Thorpe, a crass soldier who fancies Catherine. Catherine meets the Tilneys, (Henry, Eleanor and the General), who like her. She eventually goes to Northanger Abbey, where she has numerous “Gothic” experiences related to the deceased mother. Isabella goes after Captain Tilney and breaks up with James Morland. The Gneral finds out from Thorpe that Catherine is not so rich and he makes her go home suddenly. Henry follows, proposes and struggles for consent, which is give after Eleanor marries an unmade rich man, thus compensating for Catherine’s relative poverty (which isn’t all that bad after all).

The Gothic – mostly in dialogue with Anne Radcliffe, the Mysteries of Udolpho and the Romance of the Forest. They structure Catherine’s epistemology—sort of a crude experiment that is better expressed in the socially conditioned perspectives of novels like Pride and Prejudice and Emma.

Conventions – Self-conscious about the “heroine,” not so easy to tell when Catherine is fashioning her actions after Camilla, for example, and when the narrator is actively interpreting certain events as appropriate or not to a heroine. Free indirect discourse is incipient but never fully deployed.

Fashion – While in Bath, Mrs. Allen is always pointing out fashion details. Her remarks will become more fully mediated in later works, as the narrator better deploys ironic takes on fashion trends.

Chapter openings and narrative experiments – During the stay in Bath, Austen uses a chapter per day method for five days straight. The effect is monotonous, self-consciously so. One senses here playing with conflicting determining categories – recit and narrative, to use Genette’s terms. What is boring, the story or the way of telling the story?

Space – Northanger Abbey is highly articulated. Every detail is mapped out such that that which is not represented becomes the obvious locus of mystery. Focus on the chest as dark secret, enclosed. Entrapment is explained and motivated. Heidggerean fear but no anxiety. Compare to other locked containers, such as in Wuthering Heights (the weird bedchamber wardrobe) or in Freud’s commentary on the three caskets in the Merchant of Venice (read and expound).

Wilkie Collins – The Moonstone (1868)

A “family paper” opens the novel, describing the theft of a precious yellow diamond during a siege of India in late 18th C. Three Indians are committed to restoring diamond at costs.

Gabriel Betteridge opens narration, having been requested by Franklin Blake to write out his perspective on events. His daughter Penelope is a servant to Rachel Verinder, daughter of the august Lady Verinder. Rahcel’s suitor Franklin Blake is told to give her the diamond for her birthday. He does, but diamond is stolen. Sergeant Cuff investigates and suspects Rachel to be in cahoots with a servant Rosanna Spearman, who commits suicide in the Shivering Sands (supposedly has a crush on Franklin Blake). Cuff resigns job after suspecting Rachel. Franklin leaves for Africa or something. Godfrey Abelwhite, another suritor, becomes engaged to Rachel. Franklin returns, intent on clearing his name from his involvement with the Moonstone, but finds out that he in fact stole the diamond. Ezra Jennings proposes an experiment with opium, b/c his master Dr. Candy had drugged Frankling the night of the birthday and he had stolen the diamond under the influence of opium. Cuff, Jennings, and lawyer Bruff meet to watcht he experiment, which works. Rachel is there, too, and is convinced of his innocence even before it goes off. Menawhile, the diamond is taken out of the bank by Mr. Luker and folks try to track various people, and eventually find Godfrey Abelwhite dead in his hotel room in disguise. Novel finishes with a travelers tale in India, the Moonstone has been replaced and there’s a huge ceremony. Rachel and Franklin get married.

A lot of the same narrative issues as Woman in White; same troubles finishing. Why the opium experiments after they discovered Godfrey Abelwhite? Goes deep into questions of sensation and impression. Can be read as a “Humean” experiment…

Structure: two periods and an epilogue. The first period is comprised of one narrative completely given by Gabriel Betteridge, the second contains eight different narratives, and the epilogue contains the authoritative official account of Cuff and two reports from abroad, recounting the diamond’s restoration. Interesting arch of fragmentation and restoration.

Many scenes of reading Robinson Crusoe dramatizes the act of fitting facts to pre-determined interpretations—the book has supposedly foretold everything to Gabriel.

SHIPS: cf. Dracula and Sign of Four. Travel by sea becomes unsteady.

Convergence of inconveniences: people out of town, sick, lost memory, etc., all right before narrative comes to close.

Emily Brontë – Wuthering Heights (1847)

Lockwood moves to Thrushcross Grange as a tenant of Heathcliff. Nelly, his housekeeper, tells him the story of his landlord, Heathcliff. Already, to start, an imbedded narrative.

Three generations. Catherine and Hindley, children of first-generation Mr. Earnshaw, who finds Heathcliff in the city and resuces from poverty by taking him on as a son. Hindley grows jealous and treats Heathcliff poorly after his father dies, though Catherine remains faithful. Cathy “falls in love” with Edgar Linton (an ineffectual aesthete), who she marries despite loving Heathcliff like a brother. Hindley has a child, Hareton, with Frances (she dies off quickly). Heathcliff leaves and acquires a fortune mysteriously. He returns to Catherine, to find her married to Edgar and living at Thrishcross Grange. He returns to Wuthering Heights and slowly gains control over his enemy Hindley, and degrades Hareton to a savage servant, depriving him entirley of education. Heathcliff seduces Isabella Linton, Edgar’s sister, and retires to Wuthering Heights. He has a child with Isabella named “Linton.” Isabella runs away, dies, gives Linton to her brother, and Heathcliff soon claims his property. Catherine dies while giving birth to a daughter, named Cathy. Cathy grows up and Heathcliff encourages and later forces relations between her and Linton. Heathcliff eventually captures Cathy and Nelly, forces a marriage while Edgar dies. Hindley attempts to kill him, and Hindley eventually dies. Move to time of narration. Lockwood returns to Thrushcross to find Heathcliff dead, Catherine married to Hareton, and Nelly acting as servant. Jospeh, the seemingly deathless servant, is happy that the ancient stock has been restored. Lockwood leaves, wondering what would have happened had he married Cathy.

Space – Domestic, landscape, property lines: all are constantly expanding and contracting, at once permeable and impervious from scene to scene. When Isabel Linton moves to Wuthering Heights, she inhabits liminal spaces, like stairwells. They cannot accommodate her, but at other times, the house seems inordinately large, able to fit Lockwood when in need, etc. Also, Heathcliff can walk right into Thrushcross Grange. Catherine, once within the orbit of the Heights, seems to be inevitably swaloowed by it. Depsite Nelly’ capacity to move fluidly within any situation, she is disturbingly locked down in the end. In short, space is not articulated clearly, precisely or by any means definitively. Contrast to previous representations of space, such as Northanger Abbey, Barchester Towers—each of which include “tours” of old mansions.

Violence – the detailed violence. Blood, sweat, bestial characteristics are conveyed directly, neither by metaphor nor as metaphor.

Physical/Spiritual/Psychological – the three registers constantly combat for causal explication. Cathy’ hysteria could be explained by her pregnancy, which is never mentioned until she is dead. This allows Bronte to draw out the psychological distress, while not addressing biological change and flux..at other times, childhood (psychoanalytic) resources are forgotten and the spiritual, cosmic, demonic is emphasized. This competition can also be read with regard to incest taboo that lurks in Heathcliff and Catherine’s relations. Also, with regard to love (All children love their parents, etc…where the biological comes to stand in for social rupture, but cannot contain or patch up the tear)

Material metaphors – Bronte is constantly using soils, metals and minerals as metaphors for the living, rather than conceptual or spiritual, or anthropomorphic imagery.

Heathcliff as plotter – Heathcliff is constantly literally plotting, and representing the act of plotting to Nelly and others. The convention of the hidden plot is overturned, and rude mechanicals of narrative development is shown to be contrived but nevertheless vicious. Talk about in relation to Trollope’s denigration of plot (a different way of saying “plot” is not important, as well as Peter Brooks’ discussion of active “plotting” in Conan Doyle and other detective fiction. How is Wuthering Heights simply a failed detective story.

Negative Bildungsroman – the crucial development of Heathcliff is veiled. What spirals around this empty center is pure destruction, a portrait of the underbelly of the socially mobile protagonist.

Romanticism/Realism – Heathcliff as the hinge figure between these generic developments. Cf. Nancy Armstrong’s essay “Bronte In and Out of Her Time”: “Capitlaism replaces a bleated feudalism as the chief source of villainy, and competition is treated as a fact of life that converts sentient beings into objects in the marketplace” (371 in Norton edition). Juxtapose the noble savage plot with the socially destructive, dangerous middle class plot. Romantic “individualism” cedes to “collectivity” and tradition at the end, since it serves the interests of the rich (Linton). “If Heathcliff’s first metamorphosis tells us something cannot be spoken if the novel is to remain a novel, then the second uncovers the act of repression that has enabled Victorian fiction to emerge” (177).

Heather Glen argues in “Emily Brontë” (2005) that we should not read Wuthering Heights as an isolated work fo genius that somehow stand outside of all traditions, but rather as a sophisticated literary work that engages various traditions–especially the ballad form as inherited by Scott. Read this way means refusing the sort of carless construction that characterizes Ruskin’s gothic (Charlotte said that it was “wrought from no model…a colossal, dark, and frowning, half statue, half rock.” For instance, Nelly Dean recalls Scott’s servant-narrators (contrast with Thackeray and Collins servant-narrators), but she is put into tension with Lockwood, the urban “tourist” whose latinate interest in the conventionally romantic contrasts with Nelly’s direct and matter-of-fact of spoken words. Glen contrasts the novel with both Agnes Grey and the Professor (with which it was supposed to be published in three volumes): the others focus on subjectivity in terms of self-help and autobiography, whereas Wuthering Heights takes on the larger stakes of primitive violence and the shared conditions of romantic disappointment. Further, rather than charting out memory’s relation to the construction of the subject, WH registers the past as a shock that cannot be fully sublimated or represented. Thus not so much interested in “the vagaries of individual subjectivity” but in a condition “we all share” (188). Nature itself seems to participate in this condition: birth, death, renewal, spring, decay, all happen with an objective vividness unmatched in the other Brontë novels.