http://bookchronicle.wordpress.com/20... ( )

“…I well remember, the flattering notice he [Dr. Johnson] took of a lady present, on her saying that she was inclined to estimate the morality of every person according as they liked or disliked Clarissa Harlowe. He was a great admirer of Richardson's works in general, but of Clarissa he always spoke with the highest enthusiastic praise. He used to say, that it was the first Book in the world for the knowledge it displays of the human Heart.” –Miss Reynolds {Sir Joshua's sister], quoted in Johnsonian Miscellanies.

' Sir, there is more knowledge of the heart in one letter of Richardson's than in all Tom Jones.' --Life of Johnson

This is a 1500 page beast of a book, told through a series of letters (such a quantity of letters, indeed, that one wonders how Clarissa ever managed to find the time to do anything else!). I have a slight knowledge of the story from an old BBC adaptation of the book, starring Saskia Wickham, with Sean Bean as the wicked Lovelace. In the past I've been delighted to read 18th century novels that are often far less prolix than Victorian ones, but Clarissa is clearly an exception.

Clarissa is, as far as I'm aware, the longest novel in the English language. There is no getting away from the fact that, at some 1500 pages, it's a book that demands a great deal from the reader, not least in terms of the amount of time s/he is prepared to devote to it. One is hardly encouraged by Samuel Johnson's famous comment that, "[I]f you were to read Richardson for the story, your impatience would be so much fretted that you would hang yourself." The plot, indeed, is so simple that until you read the novel it's hard to see how Richardson managed to stretch it out to 1500 pages: a beautiful but virtuous woman of good family excites the jealousy of family members when she is made heir to her grandfather's estate. Clarissa's parents try to force her to marry Roger Solmes, whom Clarissa cannot stand. Banished to her room until she agrees to marry Solmes, she enters into correspondence with the known rake Lovelace. He tricks her into fleeing with him to London. Lovelace has one aim only - to seduce Clarissa.

The whole novel is told through a series of letters - notably Clarissa's to her dearest friend, Anna Howe, and Lovelace's to his fellow rake, Belford. Although very little happens in the novel for great stretches of time, the epistolary nature of the novel affords the reader a great deal of insight into the minds of the characters (although the reader should of course bear in mind that people aren't necessarily being entirely honest, or 'themselves', in letters - one is always aware of the sensibilities of the person to whom the letter is addressed).

As Jennie Batchelor puts it, "the reader is drawn into an intensely claustrophobic world". It is actually quite an extraordinary achievement, the depth with which Richardson explores the 18th mores concerning sexuality, duty, and family dynamics. Worth reading, then, purely as a social document, but also for the exploration of character, particularly Clarissa's and Lovelace's.

Clarissa herself can be a little hard to swallow - virtuous, dutiful, religious, and - in all honesty - rather humourless. However, she is an 18th century woman, a product of her time. The reader should never forget that for a woman to 'fall' was a hugely serious matter, and that a woman's virtue was something she must protect at all costs - particularly, of course, if she was of a 'good family'. I enjoyed the first batch of Lovelace's letters - they have an immediacy, his character has a vibrancy, an aliveness; but further on it is hard to square his obvious charm with his cold-blooded desire to seduce Clarissa - with or without her consent. He has little respect for the female sex, and his claims to love Clarissa sound hollow taken in the context of his ruthlessness where she is concerned.

Much of the last several hundred pages are devoted to Clarissa's physical decline, death, and the repentence of her family. It's never made clear what, exactly, causes Clarissa's fatal illness - at one point she's described as dying from grief, but that surely isn't entirely plausible. There are a couple of hints that she might have been pregant - in two letters she is asked outright if she is pregant, and she avoids answering the question. Richardson couldn't have her overtly willing herself to death (to do so would be un-Christian), but it's very clear that she welcomes death, indeed encourages it. Consumption? Deliberate starvation? Such suggestions have been made, but don't entirely convince. I suppose ultimately we just have to accept that Clarissa does, indeed, die from grief.

Although a part of me got annoyed with Clarissa's death-wish, it seems fairly clear from reading the text that - after the rape - her position in society is a difficult one. Although rape was at the time a capital offence, it's clear that many of the characters do not treat the crime with a great deal of seriousness. Even her dearest friend, Anna Howe, urges Clarissa to marry Lovelace. If she refuses to marry him, it seems her only options are either to go abroad, where she can no longer disgrace her family, or die.

[May 2008]

A book so thoroughly unpleasant it would almost be worth reading were it not also staggeringly long and jaw-droppingly tedious. ( )

Can be used for reading or as a doorstop!