The Return of the Native

This classic of British literature was great, despite everyone in it being a hot mess, each in their own way. I loved the tension between love vs. possession and nature vs. society, and Hardy's descriptions of the heath were very evocative, if occasionally over-long. Eustacia is a piece of work, Clym is a boring milquetoast, Wildeve is a d-bag, and Thomasin would benefit from some 21st century ideas of agency. Yes, I'm being a bit flip and reductive, but I truly did enjoy listening to this, especially as read by Alan Rickman. It was my first Hardy but I don't think it will be my last.

I have enjoyed reading and rereading this novel since I was in my teens. In thinking about this I can only suggest that from the first reading I was impressed with Hardy's ability to create a complete believable setting where the characters interacted not just with one another but with the world in which they lived. That world was a rural Victorian one, but it resonated with my own somewhat rural experience even though it occurred more than one hundred years earlier.
What Thomas Hardy created was a tale of passion and tragedy on Egdon Heath located in his fictional Wessex. Egdon Heath itself is the first "character" introduced into the book. The heath proves physically and psychologically important throughout the novel: characters are show more defined by their relation to the heath. Among them is Eustacia Vye whose desire to lead a life elsewhere is dashed when she marries Clym Yeobright (the Native) upon his return from Paris. The pair represents the archetype of two people caught up in their passion for each other and conflicting ambitions. For Clym, the heath is beautiful; for Eustacia, it is hateful. The plot of the novel emphasizes just this kind of difference in perception. What impresses me upon rereading this is the intricate plotting of Eustacia who throughout the novel is weaving a web of deceit with the aim of enhancing her own life. Her hubris knows few bounds and is exacerbated by her lack of understanding of those in whose lives she has intervened. She raves, "How have I tried and tried to be a splendid woman, and how destiny has been against me! I do not deserve my lot! O, the cruelty of putting me into this ill-conceived world! I was capable of much; but I have been injured and blighted and crushed by things beyond my control! O, how hard it is of Heaven to devise such tortures for me, who have done no harm to Heaven at all!"(Book 5, Chapter 7) This lack of understanding is an example of the importance of misconception in the novel which is not limited to the character of Eustacia. Ambiguity builds as the novel progresses and the main characters remain obscure for the reader. When The Return of the Native was first published, contemporary critics criticized the novel for its lack of sympathetic characters. All of the novel's characters prove themselves deeply flawed, or--at the very least--of ambiguous motivation. What I found redeeming about the novel was the way Hardy brings the lives of this couple and their friends and families alive through detail that reinforces his penetrating portrayal of the community on the heath.
The final section provides some hope for the future, tempering the otherwise bleak landscape of the novel. This was Thomas Hardy's first great novel and he would follow it with bleaker tales this is the one that I return to when reminiscing of the joy of reading Thomas Hardy's novels. show less

Eustacia Vye lives with her grandfather on Hardy’s famous Egdon Heath, suffering its loneliness by waiting for rescue in a state of undirected passion. At first attracted to the unavailability of the formerly attentive Wildeve, she next clings to the arrival of Clym Yeobright, who falls in love with and marries her; but her notion of rescue involves leaving the heath far behind, and Clym means to stay; and, as this is Thomas Hardy, events tend tragedy-wards.

It took me an inordinately long to time to get around to listening to this; my lassitude was caused in part by being bitten by Tess of the D’Urbervilles at an early age, and in part by not being sure whether I’d want to read along, or just listen (I don’t often ‘read’ by show more audiobook, and the experience wasn’t something I imagined I’d enjoy without a book in hand as well). As it turns out, all one can do is listen; Alan Rickman’s voice is tyrannical in its insistence on absolute devotion of attention.

I was hooked from word one… what rapturously bleak descriptions of the heath-land Hardy embarks upon, and my own inner voice would have done it scant justice; if the entire book had simply been Mr. Rickman vocalising Hardy’s lyrical rural scenic creation, I wouldn’t have cared, even though once he began to bring the voices of characters alive I was captured anew. Then the plot begins to emerge, people move about and Mr. Rickman slips gracefully into the background and lets the story do its work... the story is a grand mixture of the unfortunate, the desperate, the hysterical, the passive and the hopeful that I have met in Hardy’s other works; his plots, while readable, are secondary to the description, as with no other writer but each of the characters in The Return of the Native inspire pity and interest in the listener.

I have no idea if the experience of simply reading The Return of the Native would have moved me to a five-star rating; I only know that this edition of the book, with its sublime marriage of writing and reading, has absolutely captivated me for hours on end. show less

Hardy at his best. First tier in storytelling, character development, and use of language and description. It is like being served a feast to listen to Hardy entone over the features of the heath. The wet young beeches were undergoing amputations, bruises, cripplings, and harsh lacertations, from which the wasting sap would bleed for many a day to come, and which would leave scars visible till the day of their burning. Each stem was wrenched at the root, where it moved like a bone in its socket, and at every onset of the gale convulsive sounds came from the branches, as if pain were felt" So real and bleak and unforgiving a place, yet so full of love and loveliness and longing.

Was there ever a more heartbreaking woman than Eustacia show more Vye? I feel so deeply for her angst at being misplaced in Egdon and pity her dreams and desires of another world (which most likely does not exist in the way that she believes it does). She makes a poor bargain, and she makes it over and over again. She always takes the wrong course and is so thoroughly misunderstood by everyone, with the possible exception of Damon.

Was there ever a man more inept than Clym Yeobright? While he dawdles over who should make the first move, who is owed forgiveness most, and what is the best action to take, he lets every opportunity to stem disaster slide through his fingers. He is so sadly on that path of good intentions that leads to a sure hell, that he makes you scream in your head, "do something".

Was there ever a man harder to fathom than Damon Wildeve? He is neither good enough to love nor evil enough to hate. In the end, he is the catalyst that sets all the sadness in motion and makes it inevitable that no one can be truly happy who falls within his sphere. He seems incapable of any real love until his choice seals his fate.

So much misunderstanding and misadventure is overwhelming, as if it were God playing with Job or perhaps just winking at the way the humans stumble into one avoidable quagmire after another. The sense of doom hangs over everything, even the joyful wedding parties, in such a typically Hardy fashion. One cannot help wondering if happiness is even possible in this environ or if the heath itself does not eschew human delights and loves.

Living in a time when so few options were open to women, Hardy is a master of capturing the sadness and despair that can accompany them in their lot. Eustacia fights against this norm, and finds herself more trapped than most. Thomasin might find herself in the same situation but for a kinder fate guiding her steps (and the interferences of Diggory Venn). That a woman can be too easily ruined is obvious; that she is at the mercy of the morality of men leaves her in constant danger. She has, in fact, very little control over her own fate.

I loved this novel. Like [b:Jude the Obscure|50798|Jude the Obscure|Thomas Hardy|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1389403264s/50798.jpg|41342119] and [b:The Mayor of Casterbridge|56759|The Mayor of Casterbridge|Thomas Hardy|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1388276915s/56759.jpg|2390173], this left me heart torn and feeling very vulnerable and human. I kept wanting to warn the characters, especially Clym, to be more aware of the possible consequences of their choices, to hurry or to slow down, to make one small change and save themselves and all around them. But, of course, none of Hardy's characters ever listen to me. show less

I loved revisiting Egdon Heath, especially while reading during the long autumnal evenings of October. In The Return of the Native, Hardy is off doing what Hardy does best: bitter romances unfolding in a richly portrayed (but often coldly indifferent) natural setting. As usual, he explores disastrous marriage choices and how our impulsive romantic delusions can destroy not only our own lives, but also our familial relationships and the lives of others around us! WOO HOO

Though Eustacia Vye certainly makes for a memorably tragic heroine, I must admit that in my opinion the show is stolen by Diggory Venn (The Reddleman? More like the Meddleman, am I right ladies?!)-- one of my all-time favourite Hardy characters. His narrative of show more persistence in the face of rejection is slightly creepy but majorly inspirational. Some people handle romantic rejection in a #basic way (tears, ice cream, Internet stalking) and some people handle it in an #iconic way (dying yourself red from head to toe, lurking in the woods, becoming a mythical figure, thwarting your adversary in morally-questionable-but-undeniably-epic ways). So even though this is an undeniably sad novel, Diggory Venn brought me a lot of joy so I’d say it all balances out in the end.

(Also quick shout out to my second fave, true-tragic-hero Christian Cantle!) show less

Hardy is synonymous with 19th century English country landscapes, and never more so than in Return of the Native. Set on the mythical Egdon Heath, this novel is the next best thing to a time machine, so evocative are his descriptions of these bygone Wessex rural scenes. One doesn't just read a Hardy novel - it's a completely immersive virtual reality experience, and for this reason he remains up there as one of my favourite novelists of all time.

Although perhaps not so well known as Hardy's greats such as The Mayor of Casterbridge, this is still a very fine novel. In typical Hardy fashion there is heartbreak and tragedy in spades, yet it is the rural landscape that almost becomes the main protagonist. The descriptions are incredibly show more vivid, yet their conveyance is so deftly subtle that it adds an additional dimension and depth to the story rather than getting in the way of it.

Whilst many novels of that era excel at transplanting you as a fly on the wall to the centre of English social history, I can't think of a better way to experience English natural history than through the experience of a Hardy novel. By the end of Return of the Native the heath was as familiar to me as the countryside on my own doorstep. No, on second thoughts, it was significantly more familiar. Our green space has changed in so many ways since that time, but whilst some of the flora and fauna has changed forever (for instance, adders are much rarer in number now in the English countryside than they would have been back then), it is our interaction with it which has changed most acutely. In Hardy's time the average rural dweller had little option but to traverse their local countryside by foot, often travelling many miles in a day to run an errand or visit a neighbour. Imagine, therefore, how much more familiar and in touch with the earth you become when you are literally walking through it's rural midst every day. And that is precisely the experience that Hardy brings with this novel. You feel 19th century England.

This was Hardy book number six for me, and thinking I'd already peaked with his best work I was absolutely delighted to be proved wrong with this novel.

4 stars - a wonderful sojourn in rural Victorian England. show less

Two words: Alan Rickman.

Okay, well the book deserves more than two words, and about Mr. Rickman I could go on and on. This is a heartbreaking story of love and betrayal, and of scheming and misunderstanding set on the wildly bleak and beautiful Egdon Heath. The story opens with Thomasin Yeobright being returned home in disgrace in reddleman Diggory Venn's van, her anticipated marriage to inn-owner Damon Wildeve not taking place due to an error in the marriage license. In the aftermath of the non-wedding, Wildeve receives a bonfire signal from former lover Eustacia Vye, and the two resume their flirtation. Wildeve is ready to return to Eustacia, Eustacia considers, and Thomasin and her aunt attempt to save Thomasin's honor by proceeding show more with the wedding to Wildeve. Into this climate returns Thomasin's cousin Clym, the handsome, educated pride of the village, home from Paris. The idea of Clym captivates Eustacia, who is miserable on the heath and dreams of a grand life in Paris. Thus a web is woven, with strands connecting Clym, Eustacia, Thomasin, and Wildeve, with Clym's mother Mrs. Yeobright and reddleman Diggory Venn (long in love with Thomasin) worrying on the periphery.

Mr. Hardy writes well-developed characters, the most interesting and complex of which is Eustacia. With Eustacia, as with the timeless heath, marked by the ancient Celts, Mr. Hardy brings to life the uneasy blend of Christian and Pagan. "Eustacia Vye was the raw material of a divinity. On Olympus she would have done well with a little preparation. She had the passions and instincts which make a model goddess, that is, those which make not quite a model woman." A beautiful outsider disinclined to interact with any neighbors, she is admired by some and suspected by others to be a witch. She can be maddeningly selfish, fiendishly scheming, and utterly tragic.

As for Mr. Rickman... I could hardly attend to the story for pretty much the entire first disc, I was so giddy about his narration! But as with the best narrators, Mr. Rickman gradually disappeared and the story came to full, glorious, tragic life. This was one of the best audiobook experiences ever -- right up there with Jeremy Irons narrating [Brideshead Revisited]. What a shame that Mr. Rickman never narrated another book, for this one was amazing. show less