Armadale

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 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 show more 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

Armadale, Wilkie Collins’s longest novel and like another of his popular novels, The Moonstone, the narrative comprises a series of testimonies and accounts (such as from characters’ diaries and letters) which gradually shed light on the mystery. One interesting note: the heading of Chapter VII is "The Plot Thickens". I do not know if that was the first use of that phrase (I doubt it) but it is striking that Collins would use it for a chapter heading.

In 1832, Allan Armadale confesses on his deathbed to murder: his clerk, Fergus Ingleby, stole his name and married Jane Blanchard, the woman Allan loved. Pursuing the couple on board a ship, Allan locked Fergus in a cabin and left him to drown when the ship was wrecked. Allan later show more travelled to the West Indies where he married a creole woman and had a son.
After this opening the story moves to 1851, and the murderer’s son has adopted the name Ozias Midwinter, while the drowned Fergus Ingleby’s has been brought up under the name Allan Armadale – and with it, has inherited Fergus’ property, the estate of Thorpe Ambrose. Ozias learns the truth about his father’s crime – that he murdered his friend’s father – while on a sailing trip with Fergus and Jane’s son, Allan Armadale. He destroys the letter containing Allan Armadale Senior’s confession, and vows to keep the secret from his friend.

Lydia Gwilt, the former maid to Jane Blanchard (Allan’s father), sets her sights on marrying Allan for his money. Both Ozias Midwinter and Allan Armadale end up falling for Lydia, but her plan to marry Armadale is scuppered when her cynical motives are uncovered. However the resourceful Lydia, having learned the secret that Midwinter’s real name is also Allan Armadale, plans to marry him under his real name, get the other Allan Armadale out of the way, and then use the marriage certificate as legal proof of her entitlement to the Armadale estate. This complex plot continues as Lydia marries Midwinter, concealing her checkered past from him but the denouement will have to await your reading pleasure for this reader must vow not to spoil that delight.

Armadale is unusual among Wilkie Collins’s sensation novels because it demonstrates a detailed interest in human psychology, with dreams cropping up at numerous points in the novel, and Collins taking time to explore what John Sutherland, in The Longman Companion to Victorian Fiction, calls ‘the psychology of crime’. Granted, the dreams are used as plot devices rather than as a sort of proto-stream-of-consciousness designed to shed light on Allan Armadale’s character; but Collins’s use of the dreams, and Midwinter’s analysis of their significance as premonitions, adds another psychological layer to this complex novel. The real triumph of Armadale is Collins’s portrayal of Lydia Gwilt, whose surname suggests ‘guilt’ (and ‘gilt’, evoking her gold-digging ambitions), but also, through a twist, ‘will’, foregrounding her own independent agency and, it must be said, her perseverance and cunning. This is a great read which I would recommend to lovers of Dickens or Thackeray. show less

The Woman in White is one of my all time favourites. Armadale doesn't quite come up to that standard but it was a really enjoyable read. It is difficult to believe it was written as far back as 1866-there is so much that works equally as well in our sophisticated world. I was also staggered that a Victorian male could create such a complex character as Lydia Gwilt. She is compelling and everything steps up a gear as soon as she takes centre stage. To actually tell a great part of the story from her viewpoint-the supposed 'wicked woman'-in the form of a diary and some letters is original and effective. As the tale reached its tension-filled ending I felt myself uttering inward gasps as the twists kept coming and,without giving too much show more away, I shed a little tear. show less

As I've come to expect from Wilkie Collins, this was a fun ride. Heavily plot driven, with great characters - including a fascinating female character, I really enjoyed this. The books begins with Allen Armadale telling his story on his deathbed, which reveals a story of betrayal. It's a confusing story to retell, but somehow works. The end result is that there are two Allen Armadale's in the next generation. Their meeting and the telling of this dream that sort of focuses the story dragged a bit for me. But then Lydia Gwilt shows up. She is connected to the previous generation, and has a taste for revenge. Her play with the two Armadales will lead to disastrous consequences, but it's a fun journey. Recommended, but honestly, both The show more Woman and White and The Moonstone are better books, in my opinion. show less

In Armadale, considered one of Wilkie Collins's four greatest novels, he explores his favorite themes of the supernatural, destiny, murder, tortured love, revenge, deceit, and addiction. It's a complicated tale that relies heavily on coincidence, as is usual in sensational novels of the period. By an extraordinary set of circumstances too convoluted to detail here, there are two young men with the same name of "Allan Armadale," and their lives are linked (unbeknown to them) by murder and revenge in their parents' generation. One Allan Armadale is fortune's favorite, rich and handsome, while the other has had a life of unusual privation and suffering. Who can explain why their destinies are so inextricably entwined? And who casts the show more shadow of the Woman over them both?

Usually I love Wilkie and find his Victorian thrillers still wonderfully thrilling today. His writing is fairly good (I loved a phrase he uses in this novel, "the sexual sorcery of her smile"), and his melodrama, punctuated by moments of both humor and pathos, is of the entertaining variety. And he has a real gift for carrying his stories along with different narrative voices. Some of this novel is narrated by Lydia Gwilt in letters and diary entries; some is told in the omniscient third-person narrative style; and other tidbits of letters and notes from other characters give us insight into their motives and goals.

But this time I found the supernatural elements and the characters' overwrought responses to those elements—dare I say it?—the slightest bit tiresome. I wanted to tell the characters that it wasn't inevitable, they didn't have to live out the fearsome warnings of the Dream, that they should rebel against their own genre and be sensible, stolid Victorians. I suppose this still means that Collins has triumphed, as I was engaged with the characters and cared about what happened to them. But I wonder if his use of ominous supernatural signs is overdone, or if I am simply losing interest in it.

His characters, however, are memorable. Lydia Gwilt reminds me of Austen's Lady Susan and Collins's own Count Fosco. Lydia loves music and plays the piano beautifully, often losing herself in Mozart... but she is harshly practical at her core. The reader senses he cannot trust her, but she fluctuates throughout the novel, believing herself to be entirely without a heart and then weakening, weakening under the affection of a singular man. We hope she will reform (and stay reformed), but we know that this is a Wilkie Collins novel, after all, and he has to get in his share of angst before a few of the characters are permitted to enjoy happy endings.

Armadale is one of Collins's least humorous novels and there is a sense of oppression—suppression?—pervading its atmosphere. There is a sort of black humor in Mr. Bashwood's elderly vanity (that Collins says is really despair) and Mother Oldershaw's canting conversion to Christianity, but it isn't the sort to make you laugh. No indeed. I suppose Pedgift (and Pedgift's Postscript) is funny, as is the description of the disastrous picnic. But these little moments are overshadowed by the larger themes.

But despite the lack of light comedic moments, I agree with T. S. Eliot, quoted on the back of my copy, who wrote that this novel is never dull. For all its length (and it's over 650 pages of small type), it never bored me and I was always eager to pick it up again. And that's why I keep reading Wilkie Collins, melodrama and all. Master storytellers have that effect. show less

No, this is not as good as 'The Woman In White' or 'The Moonstone'. The pace and the style of writing is really quite different (Collins was immensely ill whilst writing this book). There is something lacking in this novel that the other three big novels of Collins had plenty of.

Armadale is not as mysterious as the other novels. The only real secret kept from the reader until the end is the truth of Lydia Gwilt's past. This secret of her past is not something that I craved or cared that much about, all I cared about is what she was going to do next which she always clearly spells out what she is going to do, pages or chapters before she does it.

All this said, it is still a fantastic read. It took me a long time to get through because show more this novel seems to be split in two, and the first part is quite tedious. Midwinter is an admirable character, but Mr Armadale is extremely annoying, and Midwinter, in turn, for caring so much for him is quite annoying. As a reader I was really willing Miss Gwilt on, and agreed with her on every count of Allan Armadale's character. The pair that consists of Armadale and Midwinter somewhat mirrors the pair of Marian Halcombe and Laura Fairlie from 'The Woman In White' where one is incredibly strong and the other is weak, needing constant care and attention from the stronger of the pair. The first part of the novel focuses on their relationship and foreshadowing dreams. Even Midwinter's character becomes a bore when he obsesses over fate and destiny.

The second half the novel consists mainly of Lydia Gwilt's point of view whilst being introduced to new characters way of thinking, such as Mr Bashwood and Mrs Milroy. The novel picks up here and becomes a lot more interesting. There are a few instances when we think we know where the story is going, but then takes a different way completely. She gains our sympathy as she tries as hard as she can to be moral and honest, only to find her efforts useless and forced back into her old ways.

This is worth a read, and some think this book is better than the more popular TWIW and TM, but I don't think so. The pacing is uneven, and some things are just too overly detailed and obvious. I was oddly dissatisfied when I had finished reading it though the character of Lydia Gwilt is a genius one. I'd advise to give this book a go, and to hold out until Lydia arrives on to the scene.

On a more thematic note, there is a lot in this novel (as with his other novels) about identity, the role of women, technology, geography, money and alienation. And where would a classic Collins novel be without opium?! show less

Tracing how real-life Victorian murders were reimagined for entertainment purposes—detective fiction, theater, even puppet shows—gave me the enjoyable task of reading hundreds of novels, some classics, some good, some terrible. I had always skipped “Armadale.” It is the story of two cousins, both named Allan Armadale and both in love with the evil Miss Gwilt. She marries the poor Allan, planning to murder the rich one so that, as the legal Mrs. Allan Armadale, she can inherit his money. The book is much better than this summary makes it sound, once you get past the trauma of all the Allan Armadales running about. Collins used the 1857 case of Madeleine Smith, who was tried for poisoning her lover in Glasgow, as a jumping-off show more point. Today, however, it is Collins’s fiendishly clever plotting that keeps us turning the pages, as does his then-novel combination of crime and domesticity. Today the “body in the library” is shorthand for murders in domestic settings, but Collins was among the first (and best) at making the familiar seem strange, the suburban sinister. show less