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?