Emily Eden (1797–1869) was an English poet and novelist who gave witty pictures of English life in the early 19th century.
Eden's works include: Portaits of the People and Princes of India (1844), The Semi-Detached House (1859), The Semi- Attached Couple (1860), 'Up the Country': Letters Written to Her Sister from India (1866) and Letters from India (1872).
Emily Eden's two best known short novels, THE SEMI-ATTACHED COUPLE and THE SEMI-DETACHED HOUSE, have often led the author to comparisons with Jane Austen. This is a little unfair to Miss Austen, whose novels are more finely nuanced. Here are some of the ways Emily Eden's two best-known novels differ from those of Jane Austen:
~ They were written about a generation later, ca. 1830, and published two generations later, ca. 1860.
~ They are set, specifically, in the newly suburbanizing Victorian milieu of row houses. The settings are quite specific, in fact. While I think of the typical Austen novel as involving a squire with a large house in the country admired by a young woman with not enough money settled on her per annum, Eden's novels talk specifically of the new suburban settings, method of construction, look of the houses (which one can see even today, run to the similar), and of course the socio-economic place of people who inhabit them. Austen's novels are therefore a bit "grander" in locale but Eden's have a great deal of historical and sociological specificity.
~ I can't quantify this, but it seems to me that typically Austen's "Me so witty" lines come from one person arguing with another, typically across a gender divide; while Eden's "Me so witty" lines more often come from the author who is directly satirizing a specific lifestyle.
~ Both Austen's and Eden's novels depend a great deal on stock characters: in both you'll find the virtuous young woman, the well-set-up young man inclined to sloth or cynicism (whom marriage may or may not 'improve'); the overtalkative auntie or other interfering sort; and a cast of supporting friends and relatives whose job it is largely to reflect credit on the virtuous heroine. In fact, characterizations are probably the greatest area of similarity between Austen's and Eden's novels.
~ Both sets of novels have a great deal of humor; Austen's tend toward the warmly philosophical and Eden's to the more overtly funny (a by-product of her satire).
~ Eden's novels are easier to read; or so it seems to me. Austen fans may reply that "easy to read" equates to "facile" in Eden's novels, but even hardcore Janites won't know what they're missing if they don't try, will they?
The take-with on SEMI-ATTACHED and SEMI-DETACHED are that people read them having read Austen's novels several times. That will work, of course, but they are fun all on their own. .
4 ⭐️- The Semi-Attached Couple 5 ⭐️- The Semi-Detached House
I loved both of these books but The Semi-Detached House was so comically brilliant and charming that it has won my heart the better of the two. But I wholeheartedly recommend them both.
I've been meaning to read Emily Eden for ages, and I finally succeeded! Yay for Victober 2025 and several of the prompts (under-rated Victorian woman writer and a connection to Jane Austen)! I read The Semi-Attached Couple with my friends in the Cozy Reader Book Club and we get to discuss it tomorrow. I read The Semi-Detached House with Bet and Jess on Instagram and we had such a fun time discussing it.
I'd give 'Couple' 3.5 stars and 'House' 5 stars.
'House' was quite funny and had my favorite characters of the two (Mrs Hopkinson and Willis). It's also more light-hearted and amusing on the whole, even with one plot line that reminded us of the Melmottes in Trollope's The Way We Live Now. I'd say this one felt more like Austen.
'Couple' is more psychological in some ways because it delves into an unhappy marriage and follows how it becomes a happy marriage. There are various side plots as well that felt underdeveloped. I'd love to have waaaayy more of Lord Beaufort and Mary especially. The other side romance felt very quick too. And, quite frankly, I'd like to see waaayyy less of Lady Portmore. She was awful! Mrs Douglas was a pain at first, but after we see her next to Lady P, I enjoyed Mrs Douglas as a humorous character much more. The election was slightly random, and I'm not sure why it really needed to be in there. This one felt more Trollopian, though less complex and with less of Trollope's superb character development.
I would be very happy to re-read either of these in the future. I read 'House' via the Elizabeth Klett Librovox audio, and I loved her! I read 'Couple' with my eyes, but I think it'd be fun on audio too.
Like Susan Ferrier, whom I read a few months ago, Emily Eden (1797-1869) has been tagged as the second Jane Austen. I felt there was more justice in this description in Eden’s case than in Ferrier’s. Ferrier is diffuse and rather rambling in her pacing, closer to Scott than to Austen, whereas Eden has much more of Austen’s concision and point. That’s not to say that she’s genuinely a match for Austen (who is?), but she’s an interesting minor novelist in her own right.
One great difference between Eden and Austen is in their social background, which is fascinatingly reflected in their novels. Austen was the daughter of a country clergyman, and she never left England, even though she had some intriguing and more cosmopolitan family connections. Eden came from a much more “public” and aristocratic background. She was the daughter of a prominent Whig politician, and she lived in India for seven years while her brother was Governor-General there. She was a close friend and political crony of Queen Victoria’s first Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, and a much later Prime minister, Anthony Eden, was a great-great-great nephew.
Unsurprisingly, politics is far more prominent in Eden’s writing than it is in the hermetic private world of Jane Austen. British and European politics in the 1820s forms the backdrop for the domestic dramas of Eden’s The Semi-Attached Couple, which she wrote in her early thirties in 1829, even though it was not published until 1860. One of the best satirical characters in the novel is the vain and scheming political hostess, Lady Portmore. Other sharply drawn minor characters include an absent-mindedly philandering Prime Minister, “Mr G.” and his adoring private secretary, Mr Fisherwick. A ludicrously corrupt election scene, distantly shadowing those which became a staple in mid-Victorian fiction (Felix Holt; Middlemarch; Mary Barton) illustrates very clearly why the 1832 Reform Act was a good idea.
Where the domestic scene is concerned, a great difference from Austen is that Eden—though unmarried herself—feels confident enough to tackle the emotional dynamics of an initially unhappy marriage, rather than focusing purely on the courtship of her protagonists and leaving married life as the great beyond. The main characters, the very young and sheltered Helen Eskdale and her slightly older, passionately jealous husband, Lord Teviot, rework Pride and Prejudice on the other side of the marital divide, misunderstanding and hurting one another, while still being patently in love. Around them, Eden arranges a range of comic and semi-comic characters, treated with a sharp, but generally benign, eye for human foibles. The cast-list extends to a couple of servants—another characteristic that distinguishes Eden from Austen.
Eden’s only other novel, The Semi-Detached House was written thirty years after The Semi-Attached Couple, but published before it, in 1859; presumably, it was the second novel’s favourable reception that encouraged her to pull the first out of her drawer. I found the later novel less successful than the first; it’s a similarly fresh and breezy read, but it lacks the political dimension and it’s more superficial in its characterization. The Semi-Detached House opens with a fastidious young aristocratic wife, Lady Blanche Chester, retiring for her health to a riverside villa in the invented London suburb of Dulham, and being horrified to discover that she will be sharing the building with a middle-class family with the shockingly plebeian name of Hopkinson. There’s a lot to like in the novel’s treatment of class prejudice—the ’orrible 'Opkinsons turn out very different from Blanche’s expectations—but I felt uncomfortable with the portrayal of the main satirical characters, a family of flashy, nouveau-riche, London-Jewish bankers. There is definitely a degree of anti-Semitism at play here, even if it is mitigated in part by the appealing characterization of a young niece of the family, the melancholy, Byron-quoting Rachel.
I've gotten pickier with the books I let myself acquire without my usual thorough perusal, and for good reason. Good intentions pave the road to hell, and I find that attaching to one publisher or another that proclaims itself a touchstone for the necessarily unorthodox in a particular demographic ends up dishing out the same old, same old, and ends up looking very much the status quo, albeit with a more specific focus than most. My last VMC bought for the sake of the publication edition went as well as this one went poorly and barring the Precious Bane that I recently picked up, the settings and the flap jacket introductions blur together so much that I shall have to be more hesitant before I dive into more 19th-20th c. white woman novelizations, as this combo of novels here was boring in the beginning and virulently nasty at the end. Comparisons to Jane Austen are rather misleading, as one of the strengths of Austen was to deal with character flaw, not stereotype, and to conflate the two is a laziness symptomatic of bigotry, plain and simple.
The most enjoyable part of the first work was when the two nastiest characters face off against one another, while the nicest part of the second was whenever Rachel was afforded some interiority. In contrast, the worst part about the first one was how droning it got at times in combination with an almost complete lack of character development, while that of the second was rampant antisemitism that makes me wonder what the praisers of this second novel in comparison to this first were smoking. I've read all six novels and a chunk of stories of Austen's as part of a university course, so I can assure you, as poor as Austen's writing is at times, especially in her earlier pieces, she always made sure to never drown the small machinations of regular jerks with the lazy caricatures of a largely brutally oppressed people, so one is free to look at everything else in a more forgiving light without a harsh and brutal lie blaring in one's years of, this is good! This is bad! This is the good way to be obscenely rich! This is the bad (Jewish) way! Again, very little good character development, if there indeed was any, as the incorporation of Rachel into a happy non-Jewish home smacks too much of enforced conversion/eradication to hold up as an example of quality. As such, I was either bored, infuriated, or somewhat entertained, but the last came in instances that were few and far between. The times they are a' changing', but considering how Austen preceded Eden, time wasn't these novels' problem.
I've had issues with having the correct edition on the digital landscape as I do on the physical, and so what I expected to be a 200-300 page tome turned out to be the longest book left on my cumulative challenge list, which played a small part in my overall annoyance with this/these work/works. However, even if I had sufficiently mentally prepared myself for a near 600 page stroll, it still wouldn't have made up for drudging through a satire that punched down far more than it punched up, and did nothing else but reaffirm what a lifesaver it is to be rich. Really not the narrative I need in this age of normalized Neo-Nazis and salting the earth for the sake of the 1%. Austen may have merely been more subtle about these implications, but at least she had a wicked sense of humor.
Eden is touted (by Noel Perrin, among others) as the writer to turn to when you've finished Jane Austen. I can see that. I'll make one strong suggestion, though: read them in the order they were published, not the order they were written. That means reading The Semi-Detached House first.
Like Austen, Eden will suddenly turn on the laser for a paragraph or so, producing something you want to read to anybody else in the room. Here's the long opening paragraph of the second chapter of The Semi-Detached House (and look how it establishes several characters): "Here is poor Willis coming to see us," said Mrs. Hopkinson, from her commanding position in the window, to her two girls who were drawing and reading at the secluded end of the room. The girls looked at each other with a slight expression of dismay. Willis was not a favourite; he had married their step-sister, and it was thought a great thing for the Hopkinsons, when Mr. Willis of Columbia House, which boasted of a lodge and an entrance drive, a shrubbery and a paddock, and a two-stalled stable, and every sort of suburban magnificence, married pretty Mary Smith, who lived merely at No. 2, without a shilling of her own, and dependent on her step-father for a home. So when she became Mrs. Willis of Columbia House, and of Fenchurch Street, where Mr. Willis duly transacted some mysterious business that appeared to produce a large return of profit, the Hopkinsons thought her a very fortunate young woman, and so she thought herself, till she found out that she had married a man who was by profession a grumbler. He had a passion for being a victim; when he was single, he grumbled for a wife, and when he found a wife, he grumbled for the comforts of a bachelor. He grumbled for an heir to Columbia Lodge, and when the heir was born he grumbled because the child was frail and sickly. In short, he fairly grumbled poor gentle Mrs. Willis out of the world, and then grumbled at her for dying. But still her death was a gain to him. He took up the high bereaved line, was at all hours and in all societies the disconsolate mourner, wore a permanent crape around his hat, a rusty black coat in the city, and a shining one when he dined out. He professed himself "serious," and proved it by snubbing his friends when they were prosperous, and steadily declining to take the slightest interest in their adversities.
And here's a description of the semi-detached house (Pleasance) the day after a successful dinner and party: Pleasance did not wear its usual cheerful aspect that morning; the drawing-room had that deplorable 'last night' look belonging to rooms that have not received the morning attentions of the housemaid. The chairs looked as if they had been dancing all night, and had rumpled their chintz covers, the books seemed to have fallen off the table in their sleep, and the music appeared to have quarrelled with the pianoforte in an attempt to place itself on the music stand. Only one shutter had been partially unclosed, and through the crack there came that struggling ray that ought to be light, but looks very much like dust.
Back to the review. There's a good deal of Austen to the feel of these books, especially with the comedy of manners of families with marriage-age girls, and the wider social satire. There is also a deal of Dickens, including the author's love for most of the characters, and the masterly narrative of good-hearted people trying to treat each other well, with due rewards issued. The studied poetry of several set-piece descriptions (like the two quoted above) is quite like both authors to which I would compare her.
Did I tear up in the payoff scenes of both books? Yep.
I'm giving this two-volume collection five stars, but here's why I suggest the second book first. (I should explain that she wrote the first one around 1830, but didn't publish it. She wrote the second and published it in 1859, and it did so well that she dug out the earlier book and published it the next year. Both were quite successful in their day, and stayed in print for about a hundred years. Then she dropped out of memory for a couple of decades.)
Anyway, The Semi-Attached Couple is the story of a newly married couple and their misunderstandings, and of the circle around them (many unmarried) and their contributions to or detractions from the situation. It is not as carefully structured as the second book, and has a bit less in the way of showy paragraphs, but its main problem is that all the characters are behaving poorly at the beginning. We sense that some of them SHOULD be the protagonists, but they are rather ill-prepared for the role. They get their feelings hurt too easily. They underestimate their friends, they misunderstand intentions if given even the slightest opportunity. They are mostly rich, spoiled, over-indulged, and cranky. Some of them are deeply self-centered, and some are actively destructive of anybody they see as a rival. In the early passage that kept me reading despite my complaints (and here goes the laser I mentioned), one of these is described:
...Mrs. Douglas had never had the slightest pretensions to good looks; in fact, though it is wrong to say anything so ill-natured, she was excessively plain, always had been so, and had a soreness on the subject of beauty, that looked perhaps as like envy as any other quality. As she had no hope of raising herself to the rank of a beauty, her only chance was bringing others down to her own level. "How old she is looking!" -- "How she is altered!" were the expressions that invariably concluded Mrs. Douglas's comments on her acquaintances; and the prolonged absence of a friend was almost a pleasure to her, as it gave her the opportunity of saying after a first meeting, "How changed Mrs. So and so is! I should hardly have known her; but then, to be sure, I have not seen her for a year--or two years," etc. People may go on talking for ever of the jealousies of pretty women; but for real genuine, hard-working envy there is nothing like an ugly woman with a taste for admiration. Her mortified vanity curdles into malevolence; and she calumniates where she cannot rival.
I read on, but in fits and starts, with weeks between chapters on several occasions. There was always some scathing satire to enjoy, and fine writing touches; but the characters did not hold. Still, I persisted. I read on.
And I was right to read on, because at about the 80% point of the novel the protagonists finally get their acts together and protagonate. Good impulses are acted upon, really hard choices are made, dangers struggled against, and hearts of gold are uncovered where only plated tin had been in evidence heretofore. At the end of the book I was sold on the writer, and turned immediately to the second, which I finished in a few days.
The second book also centers on newlyweds, but they are quite happy, though a diplomatic assignment sends him to Berlin, while she languishes in suburbia, pregnant. (That term isn't used, in fact. She is frail, she is ill, she is in interesting health. The modern reader only knows she's pregnant when she sends for the midwives. There is a paragraph that implies she might be pregnant, but it is a paragraph about ridiculous fantasies, which undermines the hint.) Again there are many unmarried young women, and unmarried young swains, and some older singles, likewise, and a family of con artists, and other dangers lurking about. In this case, though, we fall in love with the young couple pretty quickly, and then the author goes about proving that if love can't conquer all, it can at least occupy large swaths of enemy territory.
I can strongly recommend these two grimace-free volumes, which should be forever in print. Which reminds me to once again thank Noel Perrin's book A Reader's Delight, which brought this volume to my attention. As soon as I post this review, I'll be taking the book down to join sixteen other previously-read volumes, which Perrin's little anthology of reviews brought to my attention. (Leaving me now with, alas, only half a dozen more to read.) It is true that he preferred Couple to House; but no-one is perfect.
These two novels are charming and very much in the Jane Austen style of manners. The Semi-Attached Couple focuses on a couple who marry, but with very different ideas of what marriage should be. It's only when the husband becomes very sick, that he appreciates his wife's love. Some of the humor is a little heavy handed, especially that of a nearby neighbor who loves to think the worst of everyone.
The Semi-Detached House was written some thirty years later, but published first. Another newly married couple, who cope with eccentric neighbors, and learn to like most of them. The bourgeois rich are Jewish, which makes some of the social commentary uncomfortable, but it's not the focus of the novel.
Emily Eden is an author I only 'discovered' relatively recently thanks to a recommendation from a friend. I thoroughly enjoyed both books- Semi-Attached Couple deals with a more serious theme while Semi-Detached House is much lighter novel overall but both were excellent reads.
I adore these two books and wish Eden had written more. They're in the style of Jane Austen but more realistic. You get to see real neighborhoods in England, witness social-climbing pretenses, young married life, and my very favorite kind of character, the know-it-all female who is convinced that she and she alone knows everyone's secrets, holds the hearts of all men around her, and is on speaking terms with the rich and powerful. Every time I read them I find more to be charmed about, and the tale of the marriage in the first book affected me more now that I've been married longer than a year or two.
Eden seems to be frequently pitched as a slightly lesser Austen. Well, full disclosure here: I've never read Austen, so I can judge these only on their own merits. And those merits are, alas, somewhat slight.
The good: there are some genuinely charming comic scenes, and on several occasions I found myself laughing out loud.
The indifferent: none of the romances in these books work for me in any way. Since this is also true of modern Romance pretty much across the board, though, it's hard to say how much that's me and how much that's the book. Also, structurally these are, well, you can tell that even in the nineteenth century authors (or at least Eden) were apparently still working out what a novel was; things ramble and digress and then rush in ways that feel very weird to me, a modern reader. (This is less true of The Semi-Detached House, published first but written decades later, than of The Semi-Attached Couple, so it is at least interesting to observe Eden's evolution as a novelists.)
The very, very bad: the anti-Semitism in The Semi-Detached House is like being hit in the face with a rotting fish over and over again. Was I braced for it? Yes, but insufficiently so.
Here I add that The Semi-attached Couple is two times longer than The Semi-detached House. That, in the first is more of the charming love stories than in the second.
Nevertheless, both novels are worth reading. Especially if you like read a charming, witty books taking place in UK in XIX century, with characters from upper class. Perhaps Emily Eden wasn't Jane Austen but I think that she could be, that she almost was. Eden's eye was really observant, she told us more that a funny story and her writing was very captivating.
24 MAY 2015 -- Completed reading of The Semi-Detached House. I found the writing style easy to read, the storyline funny (with all the typical players - morose brother-in-law, know-it-all mother figure, flighty heroine, and non-silly sister (the one who has all the brains and holds the story together)). This book is what Bettie and I call a "palate cleanser," an enjoyable book used to refresh one's reading moment.
On to The Semi-Attached Couple. With this as its title, I can only the fun this book will bring today.
An entertaining read but without the heft of the Austen novels (to which these novels are so often compared) despite the similar cosy domestic upper class milieu. The characters are well realised and generally charming, and the writing is deft and entertaining but the plot, such as it is, seems very disjointed. Several fragmentary threads are briefly raised and closed, and all ends in matrimonial felicity except for the bad characters who are either snubbed or bankrupt, but it all feels a little too neat, too perfect, too fairy tale-like. Jane Austen’s characters face more realistic adversity through which they grow and change, but here we have a gentle, undemanding read which makes no demands on the readers or its characters. No less enjoyable for all that though!
I have no idea where i got this but i loved it -- a parody of jane austen written in the same time period. It's hilarious, but only if you are the type of soul who finds jane austen funny.
Delightful conjoined, satirical novels from the mid-Victorian period. The author, Emily Aden, has been called "Jane Austen lite," so if you are a Janeite, these are worth a try!
I was eager to read The Semi-Detached House after reading rave reviews of the forgotten novel online. Originally published in 1859 and now out of print, secondhand copies of Virago's edition (paired with another Eden text) are easily obtained online at a reasonable price.
In reading about Eden's work, I came across multiple comparisons of the author to Jane Austen. Unfortunately, I consequently began The Semi-Detached House with high expectations that no writer could possibly meet -- there is only one Jane. This seems unfair to Emily Eden, as this text contains charms of its own.
The narratives centres around two families. Newlywed and expectant mother Blanche is reluctant to let a semi-detached house located in a suburb of London while her husband is away on a diplomatic mission. However, she quickly befriends her neighbours the Hopkinsons, a relationship that is further cemented with they discover a past connection between their husbands.
Eden's strength is her dialogue, which is light and engaging. The Virago introduction references Eden's gift for social satire, and it seems particularly embodied in the Sampson family with its speculative husband, sycophantic wife and dandified son who speaks in an affected English-French hybrid. Since they're evidently Jewish, this anti-semitic subplot is slightly uncomfortable for readers in the twenty-first century, even if it wasn't an unusual Victorian perspective. Other jokes are a bit lighter, like a character's profession that she adores Shakespeare whilst naming works by other playwrights.
Nevertheless, this is generally a sunny novel that sees the single characters nicely paired off by the end and the assurance of enduring friendship between the two families. It lacks the character complexity to be found in Austen; it's noticeably static. Hopkinson daughters Janet and Rose, for instance, epitomise pure goodness. Still, the friendship that grows was so heartwarming it was impossible not to like the little fictional world Eden creates within these pages.
Emily Eden wrote in the mid 1800's and her charming take on the manners, money and lives of the upper class is worth the read. Her style is tongue in cheek and her observations are very accurate regarding the people of her time. Even with the old-fashioned style of writing Eden is a wonderful read. Much like Jane Austen she knows people inside and out, using exaggeration to define her characters, engaging her reader with warmth and wit.
Emily Eden’s novels, The Semi-Attached Couple and The Semi-Detached House, published in 1859 and frequently packaged together, as in the edition I read, are both novels that deserve more attention than they have received. The Semi-Attached Couple, written some three decades before it was originally published, is a charming and surprisingly critical depiction of the rocky relationship between a newly married couple.
Helen Beaufort begins to have cold feet before her marriage to Lord Teviot, whom she accepted . . . on an acquaintance of very few weeks, and that carried on solely in a ball-room or at a breakfast,” and once they are engaged, they fail to communicate: “He was always quarreling with her—at least, so she thought; but the real truth was, that he was desperately in love, and she was not; that he was a man of strong feelings and exacting habits, and with considerable knowledge of the world; and that she was timid and gentle, unused to any violence of manner or language, and unequal to cope with it. He alarmed her, first by the eagerness with which he poured out his affection, and then by the bitterness of his reproaches because, as he averred, it was not returned.” This is a highly indirect suggestion that Teviot has a sexually passionate attraction towards this rather younger, certainly innocent young woman (the novel calls her “innocent” repeatedly), who shrinks from what little she is able to anticipate about the sexual side of her upcoming marriage. But everyone in her family assumes she is delighted at the prospect of marrying this handsome man with a title and multiple homes; the one sister in whom she attempts to confide expresses only puzzlement at Helen’s tears. The marriage proceeds.
Again, Eden only subtly suggests its consummation is less than pleasurable for the timid bride: “And now, whatever might have been Helen’s fears or hopes, her fate was sealed. She had turned that page of life over which she had lingered with distressful doubt; and now it must be read . . . . [S]he was depressed, half frightened, and half unhappy. Lord Teviot’s expressions of affection were almost as alarming as his anger; he was so energetic in all his professions, so violent, as it seemed to her who had been accustomed to the gentle love of her mother and the playful tenderness of her brother and sisters.” “Energetic . . . expressions of affection” that “half frightened” her? Meanwhile, the two hardly ever talk, in part because he is incapable of understanding her timidity and fear and also because they have little time alone before they acquire a houseful of visitors that require their full attentions. Far from resenting the intrusion, Helen found it “a relief to her to be spared those tête-à-têtes with her husband, which she had found so alarming in the outset of her married life.”
Perhaps half the novel is devoted to depicting the interactions among the visitors at St. Mary’s, Teviot’s estate, following the flirtations, courtships, and social manipulations of the various guests, which offers occasion for both two different love stories and some social satire, but the core of the novel is the story of how Lord and Lady Teviot struggle to understand one another. The fact is that most of the unmarried men and women struggle to communicate, as they so clearly come from completely “separate spheres,” and it’s astonishing that any of the marriages succeed.
I found this novel quite entertaining, and recognize the influence of Jane Austen, who is directly referenced when one of the younger women houseguests asks her mother whether she objects to her (the daughter) reading novels, one of which, named Pride and Prejudice, looks “very tempting.” Austen, of course, ends her novels with marriage, so the hints of sexual incompatibility are a definite departure.
Stylistically, Eden is no Austen, though one line did stand out for me: a Mister Fisherwick, the private secretary to a cabinet minister, is we are told, cold, dusty, and “had the air of an exhausted ink bottle.” Nice.
Altogether, I found this novel a delightful discovery. I gather that the critical consensus is that it is inferior to the better-known The Semi-Detached House, whose success in 1859 led to Eden’s publishing her earlier novel with a title that suggests a connection between the two books that doesn’t, in fact, exist. Personally, I’m partial to this one.
***** As for the Semi-Detached House, it is its own take (sort of) on the theme of pride and prejudice. Its premise is that Blanche, Lady Chester, has leased a “semi-detached house,” which essentially what we Americans would call a duplex, but obviously nice enough for a Lady Something whose husband is an eldest son of wealthy Lord Chesterton. Blanche moves into the house because Arthur, her husband, is about to embark on a diplomatic mission to the continent. She assumes that the residents of the adjoining house will be inferior sorts of people an “immensely fat” mother who wears mittens and “contrive to know what I have dinner every day,” a little boy “who will always be throwing stones at palings and making me jump, and daughters constantly playing music badly. Of course it turns out that Blanche is being “over-fastidious,” but she quickly overcomes her prejudices and recognizes that the Hopkinson family, from whose points of view much of the novel is narrated, are, though certainly not as well off as the Chesters, are nevertheless as Austen would say, “well bred” and kind. They contrast favorably with Baron and Baroness Sampson, who are ostentatiously wealthy, proud in all the wrong ways but incapable of discerning who is genuinely aristocratic and who is not, and distinctly ill-bred—also Jewish, which basically amounts to the same thing. Sigh.
The book’s theme is “To be sure how things do come about, just from a little neighborliness and kind feeling.” The Chesters help the Hopkinsons, and the Hopkinsons help the Chesters, several courtships are resolved happily, and a very Victorian happy ending is enjoyed by all—except those who don’t deserve one.
The Semi-Detached House, written deep in the Victorian era, is, if anything, more coy about sexuality than The Semi-Attached Couple. A major reason Blanche isn’t traveling with her husband is that she is in a “very interesting state of health”—i.e., pregnant. At the same time, Eden clearly is amused that when Blanche’s father in law gives her a generous gift, “he ventured to say, ‘that though it was hardly decorous he should allude to certain circumstances, yet he was aware that Blanche must be making preparations for an expected happy event, and that he had brought his contribution to what he believed was called a _layette_.’ But this last word was too much for his delicacy, and he departed covered with confusion.”
I found that bit funnier than many of the passages that were supposed to be jokes—mainly affectionate mockery of Mrs. Hopkinson or considerably less affectionate satire of the Jewish Baron and Baroness.
I preferred the earlier novel to the later one, but I enjoyed both and am sad that Eden wrote only the two novels, as I would certainly enjoy reading more.
Had previously read "The Semi-attached Couple" -- have gone back to book to read "Semi-detached House"
Many people have recommended Emily Eden "someone to read if you like Jane Austen", she just isn't Austen's equal. The characters are not memorable for me. There is a lack of intimacy with Eden's characters -- nothing that distiguishes one sister from another (in The Semi-Detached House) -- you don't know the characters. (The complete inverse of what one experiences when reading Austen of the Brontes.) Not sorry I have read Eden, just not someone i will re-read.
Ok, so I first thought I was buying a book with the silly title "The Semi-attached couple in a Semi-detached house" but that was my mistake, not the author's. Two fun little novels from the start of the 20th century. Aren't we lucky to have Virago looking out for us? You would have had to have gotten very lucky to find these in their original bindings.
The Semi-Attached Couple is primarily the story of two neighbouring families; The wealthy Eskdales and the not so wealthy Douglas’.
18-year-old Helen Eskdale is engaged to Lord Teviot. Just before the wedding she has second thoughts because Lord Teviot shows himself to be very jealous of her relationship with her family, and he displays bursts of anger and moodiness. These are understandably worrying to Helen.
Helen’s sister, Amelia, is very happily married and wants the same for her sister. She dismisses Helen’s concerns and encourages her to go ahead with the wedding. After all, it's been arranged.
The wedding goes ahead and Helen moves to Lord Teviot's house, St Mary’s Abbey.
When Helen moves to her marital home, Lady Eskdale asks Eliza Douglas to come and stay with her for a few weeks because she is lonely now that both her daughters have flown the coop. What we would now call empty nest syndrome.
Helen and Lord Teviot invite a large party of friends and family to their home. It is during this extended visit that most of the action takes place. We see the unraveling of Helen and Lord Teviot’s marriage, we see old friends bicker, new friendships form and the romances begin to blossom.
One of the most irritating and entertaining characters is Lady Portmore. We get to know her intimately and as narcissistic as she may be, Emily Eden shows us just how insecure she really is with humour and sensitivity.
Towards the end of the novel, Lord Teviot is sent away to Portugal on government work. He and Helen argue just before he leaves and they both think that is the end of their short-lived marriage.
While he is away, Helen realises just how much she loves him and endeavours to be the best wife she can when he returns. Her wifely duties are put to the test when Lord Teviot falls dangerously ill and she is forced into the role of a nursemaid.
In true romance style, we have a happy ending.
You will elsewhere find many references and comparisons to Jane Austen, so I won’t dwell on them here, only to say that it is clear Emily Eden was a huge admirer of Austen and certainly emulated her style with this novel. Eden doesn’t quite have Austen’s wit or turn of phrase, but she does delve further into the psyche of her characters and shows their darker side more than Austen did.
For example, I found Teviot’s behaviour during his arguments with Helen unacceptable and I would have been scared to marry him too if I were her. His temper and moods did show signs that he could turn violent at any moment, and I did wonder if the story was going to head in that direction.
Since finishing the book, I’ve read other people’s reviews and have been amazed at how funny people have found those scenes, so it perhaps says more about me!
Mrs Douglas is fabulously bitchy and mean about everybody, but it only goes to demonstrate her own feelings of inadequacy, especially when we’re told early on that:
‘Mrs. Douglas had never had the slightest pretensions to good looks; in fact, though it is wrong to say anything so ill-natured, she was excessively plain, always had been so, and had a soreness on the subject of beauty, that looked perhaps as like envy as any other quality.
As she had no hope of raising herself to the rank of a beauty, her only chance was bringing others down to her own level.’
When talking about Helen, Mrs Douglas describes her thus:
'"I think her looking dreadfully old, Mr Douglas." "Old at eighteen, Anne! what [sic] wrinkled wretches we must be! Has Helen grown gray?"'
Still in this vein, Mrs Douglas has one of my favourite lines the book:
'“The Beauforts all laugh as if they thought they had good teeth” said Mrs Douglas.'
That line made me a laugh out loud - I hope my teeth are good enough!
Lady Portmore is a wonderful character, tragic and unlikeable I still wanted a good outcome for her. She is vain beyond compare, gives herself the airs and graces of someone much richer and more influential than she is. She strikes me as someone who has been disappointed in life, and wishes she’d married someone like Mr G, the Prime Minister. That is the sort of role she feels she was born to play.
'They joined the rest of the circle and found Lady Portmore proving to Lord Eskdale that she had brought about most of the political changes of the past year and that she knew beforehand all that were likely to take place in the ensuing one'
The book is good fun and told tongue in cheek throughout. Emily Eden never married and I can’t help but think she is having a dig at how foolish the institution is. All the couples in the book meet and marry within the space of a few weeks, even Lord and Lady Eskdale.
There are a few chapters towards the end of the book during which Lord Eskdale and Mr Douglas stand for election, on opposite ends of the political spectrum. The election takes place over a few days and the votes each candidate receives at the end of each day are made public, upping the tension.
I had forgotten that at the time the book was written votes were declared publicly. The entire town, indeed the candidates themselves, were made privy to who made each and every vote. If you were the employee of someone standing for election you had no choice but to vote for them, regardless of your own political inclinations.
If you enjoy light-hearted, witty historical romances, you’ll love this. Not only does it fit well with Austen fans but I think Georgette Heyer fans as well.
Pregnant Blanche and her sister move into a semi-detached villa while Blanche's husband is away on a government mission to Berlin. Initially prejudiced against her neighbours, the Hopkinson family, Blanche gradually comes love and rely on them. In addition we meet Baron Sampson, an apparently rich businessman who has dealings with the Hopkinsons' son-in-law, the perpetually miserable Willis.
This was a warm, amusing book in which common sense and kindness were prized. It is a pity that the Jewish characters were so dastardly - even the more likeable Rachel was unable to love the man she married - but this was presumably an acceptable prejudice at the time of writing. There was quite a lot of coupling off of all the unmarried men and women, which was a little hard to keep track of, but I enjoyed Willis' transformation.
The Semi-Attached Couple
Helen marries Lord Teviot on a brief acquaintance; he loves her jealously, but she is concerned that she does not feel for him as her sisters do for their husbands. This misunderstanding/estrangement was a little tiresome, although I suppose Helen does at least have the excuse of being very young; Teviot seemed rather petulant at times. The real joy of this story for me was the awful Lady Portmore and the sublime put downs served her by Mrs Douglas. This reminded me of Anthony Trollope (one of my favourite authors - and much more than it reminded me of Jane Austen) especially with the description of the election. Again, there was a bit of pairing off of unattached young people - I think Eliza could have done better for herself.