The Way We Live Now | Thornfield Hall

I often forget about Anthony Trollope. It is not that he is a bad writer, and it is not that I do not love his work, but simply because he does not have a distinctive Victorian voice. Think of Dickens with his rhetorical repetitions and figures of speech; Charlotte Bronte with her gloomy imagery and Gothic imagination; and George Eliot with her frightening clarity.

In some ways, Trollope is a modern writer. He is not sentimental, melodramatic, or sensational. His character-driven Barsetshire series and political Palliser series depend on skillful storytelling and a quiet, even style that does not call attention to itself. For instance, Doctor Thorne, the third in the Barsetshire series, dismayingly rambles for the first 30 pages; then he gets a grip and magically turns it into a page-turner. Some of his novels stand out stylistically, like Can You Forgive Her?, the first of his Palliser novels, and The Last Chronicle of Barsetshire, the last in the Barsetshire chronicles. But it is his standalones I enjoy most, especially The Way We Live Now.

Is The Way We Live Now his greatest novel? Well, he was so prolific that it’s hard to choose just one. But in this lively, fascinating novel, he manages to pull together all the threads of 19^th-century English society. The characters hail from urban and rural areas and represent different classes, ranging from businessmen and dissolute lords in London to farmers and peasants. Among them are Mr. Melmotte, the famous upstart tycoon who has a Ponzi scheme; Paul, who reluctantly was drawn into the dishonest business, which he doesn’t quite understand, by an uncle in California; Mrs. Hurtle, the American “wildcat” of a woman who follows Paul to England and threatens him with horsewhipping when he tries to break off their engagement; and Sir Felix Carbury, a gorgeous but stupid alcoholic, who has nearly bankrupted his mother with his gambling debts.

Lady Carbury, a middle-aged widow, is a novice writer who struggles to support her two adult children. (She dotes on Felix, but does not care about her good daughter, Hetta.) She has just written a book, Criminal Queens, and believes it is as good as most books. She writes letters to three editors, begging them to review Criminal Queens. She works hard to promote it, and her attempts are somewhat comical, though they work. Most of what she achieves is because of her personality. She is clever, and you simply cannot talk her down. She has to be her own agent, because there were no agents then, to my knowledge.

Most of the characters like Lady Carbury. Two editors, Mr. Braune and Mr. Baker, agree to assign the book to reviewers, and tmake sure that nothing too terrible is said. But the third editor, Mr. Alf, who edits an evening tabloid, encourages the reviewer to bash it. That’s his bread and butter: giving readers excitement and scandal.

Trollope has wicked fun skewering the world of newspapers and literary reviews. The editors and journalists are all cynical, and believe they’ve seen it all, and Lady Carbury, though unhappy with Mr. Alf’s review, must continue to chat all three editor up at parties. She has become a businesswoman, and learned to see relationships in terms of business.

But she wants to write books. She wants to write well. And she wants to make money. I like the way she keeps going, even though she meets discouragement on all sides.

Her morals are scandalous, though – she begs her two adult children to marry rich, and in Felix’s case, to elope with Mr. Melmotte’s daughter – but there’s something likable about her outrageousness. She has been through life’s wringer, and has grown a little numb. She cares for nobody as much as Felix. He is the love of her life.

The only woman character as strong as Lady Carbury is Mrs. Hurtle from America. Lady Carbury, whose first marriage was a mess, wants a career and turns down another offer of marriage, while the American businesswoman, rumored to have killed a man, threatens her fiancé with a horsewhip when he tries to break up with her.

Trollope’s younger heroines are kinder than these quasi-Criminal Queens, but it is certainly enjoyable to read about Lady Carbury and Mrs. Hurtle. Still, one wonders about Mrs. Hurtle’s past. Did Trollope really understand the West?

Money is at the center of what may be Trollope’s most famous novel, The Way We Live Now. Although it is long – nearly 900 pages – this masterpiece is elegantly-written, fast-paced, and a good starting point for those who are leery of his well-known series books.

Much to my surprise, when I began to read Trollope, his work was not universally respected. One summer I sat in a lawn chair and read his political series, known as the Pallisers books, and recommended them to everyone. But when I mentioned Trollope to a professor, she made a little moue and said, “Yes, yes,” as if I were wasting her time.

I gather from his popularity at Goodreads, a number of online discussion groups, his bicentennial in 2015, and the thriving Anthony Trollope Society that his reputation is now secure. And certainly his remarkable books are pertinent to our own economically unstable times: The Way We Live Now reflects how we live, with our endless desire for money, distant suburbs, McMansions, SUVs, three-car-garages, the latest iPhone, college debt, mortgages, and a deadly appetite for fossil fuels.

The Victorian marriage plot, of course, follows the money, or would if the enervated, broke aristocrats could leave the Beargarden club long enough to chase the women. Oblivious of morals, they plot to marry nouveau riche heiresses, the despised daughters of “Jewish” bankers, stockbrokers, and merchants. (By the way, Trollope attacks the prejudice against Jews).

Some aristocrats are kinder than others: the witty, affable Lord Nidderdale develops a real respect and liking for Marie Melmotte, the richest heiress in London. At one point, Nidderdale, who has been on the marriage market for years and has not yet bagged a rich wife, humorously suggests that a new list of rich heiresses with their requirements for husbands should be published weekly.

But there are also despicable wife-hunters: Sir Felix Carbury is a truly moronic, cold, vicious baronet who drinks and gambles away his fortune and is so deeply in debt that his adoring widowed mother, Lady Carbury, despairs. Lady Carbury, who has just written her first book, Criminal Queens, frenetically networks with newspaper editors in the hope of winning sympathetic reviews and selling books. (In one case, a reviewer is kind but privately admits he read only a few pages: most of the pages of the book are uncut.)

In this Victorian society that breaks the rules, the women are often stronger than the men. Lady Carbury, a middle-aged woman who did not marry for love and was beaten and abused by her much older husband, has no romantic illusions, and so she has turned to work. She has two hopes of solvency for her family: Felix must marry Marie Melmotte, who is besotted with his beauty, and Hetta must marry her rich older cousin Roger, an affectionate man who is in love with her but whose love she does not return.

Hetta Carbury is a nice, bright, ethical, charming young woman who does everything nicely – as I would and did, too – and refuses to marry a man she doesn’t love – as her mother did. But some of the women characters are much bolder than she in their open pursuit of the men they want.

I will write only about the most fascinating of them, Hetta’s rival, Mrs. Hurtle, an American widow and divorcee in her mid-thirties, who has a dubious past. Though well-educated, charming, and brilliant, she does not fit into the English class system: she looks after her own money and has shot and killed at least one man in the West.

What is the connection between Mrs. Hurtle and Hetta? Hetta has fallen in love with Mrs. Hurtle’s ex-fiance, Paul Montague, and he reciprocates her love and proposes marriage. After he writes to Mrs. Hurtle breaking off their engagement and informing her of his engagement to Hetta, she travels from America to London, and uses every ounce of charm to try to win him back.

During my previous reading of this book, I was annoyed by Mrs. Hurtle. Paul and Hetta are the perfect couple. Trollope satirizes the Western American woman, but reading between the lines this time, I found her delightful. She dresses plainly but beautifully, flirts and entices, and also expresses emotions. But she has her scary side. In an unsent letter, she writes that she would like to horsewhip Felix. And then she reads it aloud to him. Naturally, Felix is not pleased by the prospect of a horsewhipping.

Mrs. Hurtle is kind to other heartbroken women. She even has a chat with Hetta. And she helps her landlady’s niece, Ruby , who has broken off her engagement and come to London to frolic with unreliable Sir Felix, who she thinks will marry her. Mrs. Hurtle herself may once have been as wild, passionate, and savage, but she makes sure that Ruby doesn’t sacrifice herself to worthless Felix.

The boldest heroines do not always win first prize in Trollope’s marriage game. They don’t fit neatly into English society, so they cannot quite make it to the top.. When Mrs. Hurtle meets Hetta, she regretfully notices that Mr. Montague has a type: Hetta is a younger version of herself, with the same gorgeous dark hair and coloring. And that is discouraging, because she cannot compete with her younger self.

The financiers in The Way We Live Now play a dangerous game, but the marriage game is also fraught with mines.