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Clarissa: Or the History of a Young Lady
One of the first great British novels, Samuel Richardson’s classic tale became a legend to his own age and remains so today.
Defying her parents’ desire for her to marry a loathsome man for his wealth, the virtuous Clarissa escapes into the dangerous arms of the charming rogue Lovelace, whose intentions are much less than honorable. This thought-provoking work, written entirely in intimate letters, exposes the delicacy and complexity of affairs of the human heart. The fatal attraction between villain and victim builds and unfolds into a relationship that haunts the imagination as fully as that of Romeo and Juliet or Tristan and Isolde.
Abridged and with an Introduction by Sheila Ortiz-Taylor and a New Afterword by Lynn Shepherd
Defying her parents’ desire for her to marry a loathsome man for his wealth, the virtuous Clarissa escapes into the dangerous arms of the charming rogue Lovelace, whose intentions are much less than honorable. This thought-provoking work, written entirely in intimate letters, exposes the delicacy and complexity of affairs of the human heart. The fatal attraction between villain and victim builds and unfolds into a relationship that haunts the imagination as fully as that of Romeo and Juliet or Tristan and Isolde.
Abridged and with an Introduction by Sheila Ortiz-Taylor and a New Afterword by Lynn Shepherd
544 pages, Mass Market Paperback
Published June 3, 2014
About the author
Samuel Richardson
1,681 books219 followers
Pamela
(1740) and
Clarissa Harlowe
(1748) of English writer Samuel Richardson helped to legitimize the novel as a literary form in English.
An established printer and publisher for most of his life, Richardson wrote his first novel at the age of 51. He is best known for his major 18th-century epistolary novel Sir Charles Grandison (1753).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_...
An established printer and publisher for most of his life, Richardson wrote his first novel at the age of 51. He is best known for his major 18th-century epistolary novel Sir Charles Grandison (1753).
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_...
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
December 26, 2021
According to Lynn Shephard’s afterword in the edition of Clarissa I read, a contemporary reviewer called Hester Thrale Piozzi summarised it as: ‘A Man gets a Girl from her Parents – violates her Free Will, & she dies of a broken heart. That is all the Story’. Substitute ‘rape’ for ‘free will’ – which is not a minor substitution, but hey, you do you, Hester – and I can’t argue with it. I would even suggest that in different hands and with a different format, it would make for reasonably compelling reading! However, even the abridged version is over 500 pages of letters in which Clarissa, for reasons that she never makes totally clear (at least to my twenty-first century sensibility) refuses Lovelace from the getgo, and even after he rapes her and offers to ‘make right’ by marrying her continues to refuse him. She then, er, dies of the Literary Ague? I am highly uncomfortable with the way the book presents the best case scenario for the victim of rape as being ‘sad yourself to death’. She BUYS A COFFIN AND PUTS IT IN HER BEDROOM, you guys. What the hell.
The afterword also mentioned that lots of readers – even before the book (released in instalments) was finished – shipped Clarissa hard with Lovelace. Although we get no description of him – or anyone – he does come across as rather winning initially, perhaps because he is a realist and a cynic and they’re always more fun than dour moralists like Clarissa.
“That if a man could not make a lady in courtship own herself pleased with him, it was as much and oftentimes more to his purpose to make her angry with him.”
I mean – fair? I am not Team Lovelace by any means – the guy is turned on by breastfeeding, among another demerits, like RAPE – but I was so sick of Clarissa within a hundred pages that I was gunning for her to make at least a pragmatic choice here. By societal standards she was damned the moment she ran away with him; the actual P-in-V violation was almost irrelevant, although certainly not to her. But then, this is a time when submission and duty were female watchwords, as summed up by proto-feminist Anna Howe:
“[…] that gentleness next to meekness, which in the letter I was going to communicate she tells me are the peculiar and indispensable characteristics of a real fine lady; who, she is pleased to say, should appear to be as gall-less as a dove; and never should know what warmth or high spirit is, but in the cause of religion or virtue; or in cases where her own honour, the honour of a friend, or that of an innocent person, is concerned.”
“Well do your sex contrive to bring us up fools and idiots in order to make us bear the yoke you lay upon our shoulders; and that we may not despise you from our years (as we certainly would if we were brought up as you are) for your ignorance, as much as you often make us do (as it is) for your insolence.”
Confusingly, Clarissa herself is not particularly dutiful. She is constantly kicking over the traces, and while you could argue these spirits were in the cause of her virtue they weren’t always. (Her virtue was never in danger while she lived with her family, for instance.) I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to take any of it. Obviously Lovelace thought he was carrying out Clarissa’s wishes by signing up for a fatal duel, where he’d either die or commit murder. That does not exactly accord with being ‘as gall-less as a dove’ or, indeed, any Christian maxims whatsoever.
The moral stances of both Anna and Clarissa are, for me, slightly rusted by the fact that their affection for each other eclipses that which they feel for literally everyone else – family or lover.
“[…] for she was the joy, the stay, the prop of my life! Never woman loved woman as we love one another! […] It was my glory and my pride that I was capable of so fervent a love of so pure and matchless a creature!”
Just gals being pals! And, like, I’m sure I’m not the first to suggest a lesbian reading of Clarissa and Anna, but I can’t help thinking that they’re lying to themselves about the wellspring of all their philosophy and ethics, which then casts said philosophy into doubt.
Reading extremely unlikely letters that people apparently penned in the heat of the action, everything is so perfectly recalled, is a very dull way to tell a story. I was 90% bored and 10% offended. In fairness, I’ve read Pamela, so I have no one to blame but myself.
“[…] full of wishes, for the sake of the pretty varlets, and for her own sake, that I would deign to legitimate; that I would condescend to put on the nuptial fetters.”
This is after Lovelace describes getting so horny for watching Clarissa breastfeed their imaginary children he’s willing to marry her despite himself. Shades of Darcy’s first proposal! Not to yuck your yum etc etc, but EW.
The afterword also mentioned that lots of readers – even before the book (released in instalments) was finished – shipped Clarissa hard with Lovelace. Although we get no description of him – or anyone – he does come across as rather winning initially, perhaps because he is a realist and a cynic and they’re always more fun than dour moralists like Clarissa.
“That if a man could not make a lady in courtship own herself pleased with him, it was as much and oftentimes more to his purpose to make her angry with him.”
I mean – fair? I am not Team Lovelace by any means – the guy is turned on by breastfeeding, among another demerits, like RAPE – but I was so sick of Clarissa within a hundred pages that I was gunning for her to make at least a pragmatic choice here. By societal standards she was damned the moment she ran away with him; the actual P-in-V violation was almost irrelevant, although certainly not to her. But then, this is a time when submission and duty were female watchwords, as summed up by proto-feminist Anna Howe:
“[…] that gentleness next to meekness, which in the letter I was going to communicate she tells me are the peculiar and indispensable characteristics of a real fine lady; who, she is pleased to say, should appear to be as gall-less as a dove; and never should know what warmth or high spirit is, but in the cause of religion or virtue; or in cases where her own honour, the honour of a friend, or that of an innocent person, is concerned.”
“Well do your sex contrive to bring us up fools and idiots in order to make us bear the yoke you lay upon our shoulders; and that we may not despise you from our years (as we certainly would if we were brought up as you are) for your ignorance, as much as you often make us do (as it is) for your insolence.”
Confusingly, Clarissa herself is not particularly dutiful. She is constantly kicking over the traces, and while you could argue these spirits were in the cause of her virtue they weren’t always. (Her virtue was never in danger while she lived with her family, for instance.) I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to take any of it. Obviously Lovelace thought he was carrying out Clarissa’s wishes by signing up for a fatal duel, where he’d either die or commit murder. That does not exactly accord with being ‘as gall-less as a dove’ or, indeed, any Christian maxims whatsoever.
The moral stances of both Anna and Clarissa are, for me, slightly rusted by the fact that their affection for each other eclipses that which they feel for literally everyone else – family or lover.
“[…] for she was the joy, the stay, the prop of my life! Never woman loved woman as we love one another! […] It was my glory and my pride that I was capable of so fervent a love of so pure and matchless a creature!”
Just gals being pals! And, like, I’m sure I’m not the first to suggest a lesbian reading of Clarissa and Anna, but I can’t help thinking that they’re lying to themselves about the wellspring of all their philosophy and ethics, which then casts said philosophy into doubt.
Reading extremely unlikely letters that people apparently penned in the heat of the action, everything is so perfectly recalled, is a very dull way to tell a story. I was 90% bored and 10% offended. In fairness, I’ve read Pamela, so I have no one to blame but myself.
“[…] full of wishes, for the sake of the pretty varlets, and for her own sake, that I would deign to legitimate; that I would condescend to put on the nuptial fetters.”
This is after Lovelace describes getting so horny for watching Clarissa breastfeed their imaginary children he’s willing to marry her despite himself. Shades of Darcy’s first proposal! Not to yuck your yum etc etc, but EW.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 1, 2021
Even though this is an abridged version I really enjoyed this! It is very slow in the beginning, but then it gets really good! I don’t think this book is for everyone, but I liked it a lot!
May 10, 2018
Wow! What a great read! I already loved the story, having seen the Sean Bean TV version, but it was even better as a novel. Even though I knew what was coming, I was glued to each letter, desperate to hear what would happen next. I actually, unintentionally, ended up buying an abridged version, so this was 500 pages long instead of 1500. However, the abridgement was neatly done. Only once or twice did it feel obvious that something was missing between letters. Lovelace is such a lovable rogue. I know Richardson will hate me for saying this (as he did contemporary readers who felt the same way), but I am a little in love with him despite his faults. The style of this book is very much of its period, so to read it, you need to be open to that and not expect sentence structure and style like we are used to in modern time. For a lover of the 18th century classics, though, this is a must read! I suspect it is one I will come back to and reread in the future, maybe in its entirety next time.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews