If Amy Levy wanted to make this story into the antithesis of DANIEL DERONDA by George Elliot, then I think she succeeded. Not only does she take issue with the idealism of Elliot’s Jews, but the book is only a fraction of the size of its more well-known counterpart. The characters, the plots, everything is skeletal here, in contrast to the overflowing Deronda.
Though in all respects, I compared the two books. :P Like this Reuben Sachs character, the titular guy on whose hopes are hung all the inspirations of his family….yeah. Daniel Deronda was the same, except that he didn’t actually succeed in becoming this paradigm of his society’s ideals, and instead ultimately chased a legacy that was much grander. And, presumably, he didn’t lose his life for it, either!
The female lead/love interest, Judith, is perhaps a mix of Gwendolen and Mirah…she’s obsessed with Reuben, like both of the other heroines are with Deronda, she receives instruction from him on how to “better” herself, particularly like Gwendolen, and also particularly like Gwendolen, Judith does not get the man. This is largely due to her background as a poor relation and ward of her relatives, which is kind of similar to Mirah, except that Mirah does get the guy at the end. Judith gets stuck with the convert (!!!) Bertie. The text explicitly states: “Bertie, as Gwendolen Harleth said of Grandcourt, was not disgusting.” Which: yay? An okish premise on which to start a marriage? Though I wouldn’t necessarily call Grandcourt’s character “not disgusting,” and seeing how things ended with his wife, I doubt Gwendolen would leave it there, either. :P
The text continues, re Judith and Bertie: “He took his love, as he took his religion, very theoretically.” Thid indicates that Bertie’s relationship with Judaism (and his Jewish wife??) might be brief, because the Jewish community in this book is described as wholly materialistic. No matter the lip service Levy supplies for the differing denominations: an orthodoxy, the Reformed temple, and the Sephardic congregation, all patronized by various members of Reuben’s extended family (including Judith.)
The final, perhaps most anti-Deronda character is cousin Leo, who despises his community for its materialism. Definitely no shades of the other man’s idealistic, pseudo-Zionism here! Leo wants to become a musician, which is solely the purview of assimilated Jewish women (and one man) in Deronda. He detests London materialism, which brings me to the point that perhaps Levy was blaming her community for an issue that existed far beyond it. But instead, Levy, like most English classicists, denigrates the middle class for needing money to survive, and denigrates Jews, in the Victorian style shared with DANIEL DERONDA, as being a stereotypical race where everyone is supposed to act and believe exactly the same.
It's strange to call the Jewish community that monotonous when, as mentioned, also paying lip service to different denominations within. As the London Fictions review points out, Levy makes no reference to the influx of Jews to England at the time, most of whom were escaping the violent pogroms of the European empires to the east. So, the assimilation of her Jewish characters in London society doesn’t feel entirely assured, either, even if I can’t blame her for not predicting the Holocaust, much less how Zionism would thus turn into a fringe idea to a central one in Jewish discourse. In the mid-19th century, indeed it would still be applicable to mock, as a character does in this story, “I think,” said Leo, “that he [Bertie] was shocked at finding us so little like the people in DANIEL DERONDA.” “Did he expect,” cried Esther, “to see our boxes in the hall, ready packed and labeled ‘Palestine?’”
As for Reuben himself, who dreamed of becoming the first Conservative MP who didn’t convert, the pressure he (and his community?) put him under ultimately cost him his life, in a scene foreshadowed from the very beginning from a visit to the doctor’s. It feels like a more modern critique of Judaism: as a religion of over-achievers, whereas I think Levy’s most personal scorn was saved for the patriarchal attitudes. Though I find it a shame in a book that references various Jewish holidays and customs, she couldn’t paint a more complicated picture.
Ultimately, I didn’t connect to the characters here; everything felt rushed and unsupported. I can complain all I want about the endless subplots in DANIEL DERONDA, but at least the characters were compelling to me. The writing was also more droll, though to be snobby, perhaps this was aided by a Librivox audio narrator vs the more professional job of DANIEL DERONDA? It is worth noting that Levy wrote her book in her twenties, whereas George Elliot was in her fifties, and much more accomplished, when she penned DANIEL DERONDA.
Levy’s own story is tragic, which perhaps plays its way into the narrative of her fiction. But meh. I didn’t really buy it on its own terms.