Wilkie Collins (1824–1889)

It's unfortunate that [[Wilkie Collins]] doesn't get much attention these days, for unusually among male Victorian writers, his female characters often illustrate an injustice in society, frequently in the way they are treated in law. [The Law and the Lady] differs somewhat from those novels, in that here it is a man who has suffered the perceived injustice at law, but his wife who will seek to correct it.

I use 'perceived' here as the law in question is Scots law, with its additional verdict show more of 'Not Proven', generally taken to mean that the jury cannot in all conscience declare the defendant innocent, but on the other hand the prosecution has not presented enough evidence to prove guilt. The defendant is set free, but naturally a taint of suspicion trails after him or her for life. Collins's protagonist, Valeria Woodville, being English, is unable to accept the validity of such a verdict. She called it cowardly, vowing to "...change that underhand Scotch Verdict of Not Proven into an honest English verdict of Not Guilty"*

[The Law and the Lady] is a detective novel at heart, a format at which Collins excelled. It is narrated by Valeria. Without giving too much away, it starts with Valieria's marriage to Eustace Woodville, following a brief courtship. It soon became evident that her husband had a secret past. Once Valeria discovered what it was, her husband left, telling her it was the only honourable solution. Determined to appeal the verdict at the heart of it all, Valeria set out to discover everything she could surrounding the trial.

Detectives were a new occupation in 1875, and female detectives were almost nonexistent. Valeria took on the role with all the zest and bravado Collins bestowed on his unconventional women. Her interviews and research, let alone her visits to Scotland, show just how hard it was for a female to get anywhere without a protector or intervenor. Although willing to defy convention Valeria soon realized she must make use of every male connection available to further her cause. Here is a woman who knew how to use social expectations to her own ends, often prevailing on men to help her against their own inclinations.

Amongst these was Miserrimus Dexter. Hideously deformed, brilliant, by turns completely rational and horrifyingly unpredictable, he is crucial to Valeria's quest. His condition and the discussions around it provide not only suspense, but also an insight into Victorian ideas on 'madness' and disability.

Was Eustace worth all this? Probably not. Although presented as an honourable man throughout, this is after all his wife narrating, nonetheless he egregiously decieved her before and after marriage by what could be seen as a sin of omission rather than one of commission. Secrecy and repression are another recurring theme here with Collins, through Valeria clearly advocating for openness, since misunderstanding and worse are otherwise their only outcome. The nature of marriage, property and what constitutes marriage, frequent Collins themes, are all seen from this view.

The pacing here was excellent. Even if some of the scenes were predictable, others were not, and all displayed the writer's skill. Unfortunately the ending was a nod to Victorian convention. It's possible Collins couldn't get the novel published without it, as he had already had to fight to keep in a crucial chapter his publishers considered salacious. Still, the ending is ambiguous enough: "Not as I thought it would end, not perhaps as you thought it would end" to offer possibilities.

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*emphasis mine show less

The first Wilkie Collins novel I read was The Moonstone, and I loved it so much that I devoured it practically in one sitting, while at home nursing a cold. Then I picked up The Woman in White, and, to my surprise, found it almost unbearably slow and tedious. Suddenly uncertain about a writer I'd thought I loved, I figured I'd let Armadale be my tie-breaker.... and I'm very pleased to report that the results were entirely in Mr. Collins' favor.

The plot of this one is almost impossible to show more describe in any concise or reasonable-sounding way. Suffice it to say that it involves secrets, murders, assumed identities, an inheritance, a scheming gold digger, a prophetic dream, and no fewer than four different people named "Allan Armadale." Among other things.

It's all pretty entertaining, with moments of humor and moments of tragedy and moments of suspense. One thing I find interesting about it is how, like most novels of this sort, it's full of a million ridiculously implausible coincidences, but it actually manages to turn that from a bug into a feature, creating an ominous sense of inescapable fate closing in. The characters, for the most part, are well-rendered and interesting -- especially the main villain, a manipulative, spiteful woman whom one might almost expect to be cartoony, but who instead feels extremely human, even sympathetic.

All of which isn't to say that it's flawless. It is somewhat slow-paced and rambly, although, really, if you sit down to a 650-page Victorian novel expecting something zippy, you're probably asking for disappointment. And there were a few places where I found myself kind of wanting to grab some of the characters and shake them until they talked to each other, or where they seemed not to react quite the way I would expect based on things that had been previously established, leading me to wonder if maybe Collins' convoluted plot might just be getting away with him a bit.

But mostly it was really enjoyable. Which leaves me wondering just what, exactly, my problem was with The Woman in White, since it's basically the same type of story as Armadale and The Moonstone, and did feature some good characters. Maybe I was just not in the right mood, or went into it with my expectations set too high. In any case, I'm glad I didn't let it put me off. show less

4.5

There is something I love about a Wilkie Collins novel. I think it is the way he builds the mystery and suspense without any overtly horrible occurrences. I thought Basil rather soft-headed and unsympathetic in the beginning, but as the story progressed, I began to feel real concern for this young man pretty much trapped in a mess of his own making. I decided early on that the father was not going to be as unforgiving as the son believed, but Wilkie Collins’ characters seldom do what we show more think they will do (which is part of the enjoyment of reading him), and I found the father as exasperating as the sister was kind.

The story depends very heavily on chance and fate to draw these tragedy-bound characters into one another’s spheres. When you have accepted that element, you must concede that anyone would be as foolish and headstrong as Basil over a woman he can’t even say he barely knows (as he does not know her in the least when he decides he is completely in love and must have her and no other). But, Collins handles this deftly and I totally believed the circumstances that ensued after the chance encounter of Basil and Margaret on an omnibus. The lesson here must surely be “never take public transportation if you can afford a private cab.”

I’m sorry it took me so long to get to this, but I am very pleased I put it on my challenge this year. I loved Woman in White and the Moonstone, so Basil is proof for me, if needed, that I should attempt to read everything in Collins’ canon. Next up: No Name. show less

Espionage, murder, romance and humour; this novel has them all.

Considered by many to be the inaugural detective novel, Wilkie Collins' nineteenth century novel 'The Moonstone' is a classic.

What's it about?

A precious gem is stolen, a curse follows the thief and three Hindus sacrifice their caste to retrieve it.

This brief précis gives the novel a certain exoticism, and it's true that India bookends the story, but really it's a whodunnit set in a country house. The main action focuses on a show more period of about a year and a half during which the sought-after diamond is stolen - again - from a Miss Rachel Verinder, mere hours after she receives it.

From this point, puzzles abound. Who stole it? Why won't Miss Rachel support the police investigation? What have the three Indians who were hanging around the house got to do with the theft?

Some of the answers initially seem obvious, but as the story develops there are several strange twists and turns that place the initial events in a very different light.

What's it like?

A little slow and repetitive in places due to the narrative structure, but there's no shortage of surprises and puzzles to keep readers intrigued, including an excellent twist half-way through.

The novel is carefully constructed from "documents", most of which are eyewitness statements commissioned by one of the key characters in the tale. Just like Collins' most famous work, 'The Woman in White', the central conceit is that each section is written by a character who is limited to telling you what they did, thought, saw and suspected at the point in the story they are writing about. This necessarily creates a little repetition at times but the narrowness of each character's vision is what contributes so effectively to the suspense.

Furthermore, some repetition is deliberate and quite helpful to the reader. Since the novel was originally serialised in Dickens' magazine 'All the Year Round' between January and August 1868, contemporary readers would have appreciated judiciously timed reminders of events which had happened in previous instalments. Reading this on an ereader meant I found it difficult to toggle between sections and so found the discreet recaps equally useful!

So has it stood the test of time?

Definitely; the aristocratic characters may have fewer real-life counterparts today, but the emotional heart of the novel rings as true as ever.

To fully appreciate this, you need to enjoy reading a lot of dialogue and accept a slow pace to the development of the mystery. The formal structure Collins adopts means the novel consists mostly of dialogue as characters explain all the key incidents to each other. This does create a certain distance and reduces the dramatic impact but is essential to create the suspense: if we had (for instance) Rosanna Spearman's account of events from Rosanna Spearman's own mouth, instead of recounted second-hand and then by letter, this would be a much shorter and far less puzzling story. Besides which, much of the enjoyment is found in the characterisation and the narrative approaches.

The narrators have very distinct voices and I particularly enjoyed the first two significant voices: Gabriel Betteredge and Miss Clack. Betteredge's narrative initially consists of a series of digressions followed by assurances of future progression of the mystery, but he's also sharply, wonderfully opinionated:

"Rosana Spearman had been a thief, and not being of the sort that get up Companies in the City, and rob from thousands, instead of only robbing from one, the law laid hold of her".

"I have myself (in spite of the bishops and the clergy) an unfeigned respect for the church"

"I can't affirm that he was on the watch for his brother officer's speedy appearance in the character of an ass - I can only say that I strongly suspected it."

"I am (thank God) constitutionally superior to reason."

If you find the above quotations from Betteredge amusing then you'll likely find this a rewarding read, and by the time Betteredge retires from his position as narrator you'll be suitably hooked by the mystery to keep reading.

The next narrator, Miss Clack, is horribly evangelical with no empathy at all, but once her hypocrisy is unveiled she is equally enjoyable in her own way, and I quickly adapted to each new speaker and their quirks.

Final thoughts

I enjoyed reading this and was suitably perplexed by the central mystery. I found the various twists and turns interesting, though you do have to be prepared to suspend disbelief about a few key points. show less