Evelina: Or, The History of A Young Lady's Entrance into the World

by Frances Burney

Raised in seclusion until her seventeenth birthday, Evelina is exposed to London society for the first time while in the company of the fashionable Lady Howard. Evelina’s lack of aristocratic upbringing quickly becomes apparent, but undaunted by her lack of awareness of the customs and conventions of eighteenth-century London, Evelina strives to win the love of established nobleman Lord Orville.

Published anonymously, Frances Burney’s Evelina is a satirical novel that conveys one young woman’s coming-of-age in highly aggressive, and fashionable eighteenth-century society. Evelina’s innocent commentary perfectly depicts the isolating effect of these customs, while also criticizing them, and provides shrewd commentary on the spectacle and formalities of English society.

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Genres: Classics, Fiction, Romance, 18th Century, Historical Fiction, Literature, British Literature

267 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1778

About the author

Also known as Fanny Burney and, after her marriage, as Madame d’Arblay. Frances Burney was a novelist, diarist and playwright. In total, she wrote four novels, eight plays, one biography and twenty volumes of journals and letters.

Reviews

[Bill Kerwin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a very good 18th century epistolary novel. The prose is precise and elegant, the voices of the various letter writers are well delineated and individualized, and the author makes us admire the heroine and fret over the difficulties which obstruct her happiness. The two lovers—the naive Evelina and the elegant Lord Orville—exhibit sentiment and good sense even in the midst of misunderstandings in a way that looks forward to Austen, and the misunderstandings themselves are both credible and interesting.

The novel is, however, not completely successful. Some of the comic characters—Captain Mirvan and Madame Duval, for example—are so crude in conception and so coarse in their behavior that they appear to have traveled here from a very different novel, making the charming Evelina sometimes look like a Disney princess surrounded by escapees from a Warner Brothers’ Looney Tune. These zanies soon take a back seat, however, and the novel resolves itself in a way that is both harmonious and satisfying.

("Evelina" is clearly within the tradition of the "sentimental" novel. Characters are continually commenting on the delicacy of sensibility that may serve to distinguish the superior person from the ordinary one. It is easy to make fun of this literary fashion, but some of the events in the novel--I'm thinking of the abduction, terrorizing and humiliation of the middle-aged Mme. Duval as a practical joke and the wager of two respectable noblemen on a race between two infirm old ladies--are treated in such a cavalier fashion by even this well-bred young female author that I have become convinced that eighteenth century society desperately needed the sentimental impulse--and its embodiment in popular fiction--as a civilizing force.)

[Henry Avila · Rating 4 out of 5]

Once upon a time in a rural home, many miles from any city lived a girl of seventeen of exquisite beauty with a country parson the humble Reverend Arthur Villars, a kindly old man of the cloth, her foster parent; Evelina of obscure birth, the rest of her name in doubt, maybe Anville...no, it's as good as any, besides one is required... she loved and knew no other guardian... from an epistolary novel of 1778. This lady needless to say unsophisticated in the ways of the world is about to set hearts beating faster when she makes a visit, her first to the great metropolis of uncountable attractions,( none better than she) London. A crisis before that though , her sleazy grandmother, Madame Duval a woman who abandoned the orphan girl, is arriving from France, to take over from the parson, the old lady smells money, the reluctant Rev. Villars dreads the change. Scared , uncomfortable more child than an adult brought there by a family friend Mrs. Mirvan, and her daughter Maria almost a sister to the uneasy Evelina. Another element to put in the pot and stir the plot, Mrs. Mirvan's husband , a rough, salty sea captain is returning after seven long years, the uncouth man, no gentleman, likes causing trouble...and does.. Grandmother and the captain spark trouble, more like a forest fire, when they meet in the city .The nightmare begins... every man whom she sees, wants to seduce her, especially the bored rich, powerful Lords and Sirs , an a very elegant, but quite irritating fop too, Mr. Lovel, well dressed , much better than the ladies...
Blushes are common on the pretty face of the girl, tongue -tied, feeling faint, she runs away but gets further into the trap ...The wealthy privileged men think they're entitled to all of the lower classes. Young gangs of boys are tormentors of Evelina when she is out in the streets with her friends, viewing the sights... Sir Clement Willoughby doesn't know the meaning of no, always trying to make Evelina do things not in her nature...besides hating this arrogant aristocrat who follows her from the city to the country , even to the seaside town of Bristol. The girl in only six or seven months finds herself becoming very well educated...knowledgeable of high society and trying to defend herself, against the pretensions of members who in reality are not the best of the nation. However there is another Lord, young , good-looking, manners that never offend, a charming, debonair man Lord Orville, but can he be trusted or is he just another phony? This surprisingly well written, biting satire, nevertheless an entertaining book by Fanny Burney, as she dives deep into the upper crust and shows its shortcomings, warts and all, and the people of 18th -century England , they reveal a complex society of good and bad...like everywhere and every age.

[Fionnuala]

Who'd have thought that reading the long interior monologue that is Ducks, Newburyport would lead to reading the long interior monologue that is Evelina—but that's exactly what happened. Lucy Ellmann mentioned Jane Austen's Persuasion so often in Ducks that I got the urge to reread that book, and in it, I found an intriguing reference to Fanny Burney's novel, Cecilia, so I read that one too, which led me to be curious about what else Fanny Burney had written, which is how I ended up reading Evelina*.

It is probably not accurate to say that Evelina is an interior monologue, but it is close to being one since it is almost entirely made up of a young woman's letters to various people in which she writes of everything that has been happening in her life since she last wrote to them. It's all couched in perfectly constructed sentences and paragraphs of course—which is the very opposite of Lucy Ellmann's narrator's style, but both narrators ponder what it is like to be a woman in their own time, the choices they have made or need to make, the traps they've fallen into. Both have lost their mothers at a young age too, and feel the lack intensely though other aspects of their lives and circumstances are very different since there are two hundred and fifty years between them as well as an entire ocean.

Yes, Ohio of today is very different from England in the 1770s, and not least when it comes to class differences. There don't seem to be any in Ohio which suits Ellmann's narrator perfectly. But Evelina lives in a society with very rigid class boundaries, and one of her dilemmas is the fact that she doesn't belong in any of them since her mother is dead and her father has never acknowledged her or his marriage to her mother. Evelina has a quite grotesque grandmother too, who, though wealthy, has no status in society, so the poor girl is doubly, triply, hampered.

Her indeterminate situation reflects the situation of the book itself in a way. While the central themes of this 'marriage plot' story are treated seriously, large sections revolve around a rambunctious ships captain and his hilarious confrontations with various other mettlesome characters. When the captain says, "Fore George, it runs in my head, I’ve seen you somewhere before! And now I think on’t, pray a’n’t you the person I saw at the play one night, and who didn’t know, all the time, whether it was a tragedy or a comedy, or a concert of fiddlers,” we can't help feeling like that 'person', not knowing whether the book is a serious romance or an out and out comedy. The captain's every word and action certainly scuttles many of the claims Evelina's personal story might have to seriousness.
“Plait-il, Monsieur?”, asks a Frenchman politely, wishing to know what he can do for the captain.
“No, nor dish me neither,” is the captain's blunt refusal.

And the captain somehow brings out the humour in those around him too:
O pray, captain,” cried Mrs. Selwyn, “don’t be angry with the gentleman for thinking, whatever be the cause, for I assure you he makes no common practice of offending in that way.”

The captain's arch enemy in the story (but all in a playful way) is Evelina's French grandmother who is herself the epitome of Farce from her gaudy clothes and overly-rouged face (she paints very high) to her ungrammatical language and exaggerated behaviour. The shouting matches between her and the captain, and the ridiculous schemes he comes up with to outwit her, reminded me of the culinary meaning of the word 'farce': in French, it means 'stuffing'. The book is full of stuffing, and I'm certain that the readers of Burney's day, brought up as they would have been on Restoration Comedy which is stuffed with Farce, must have enjoyed it very much.
I enjoyed it myself.

* For books continue each other, in spite of our habit of judging them separately.
Virginia Woolf.

[Sara · Rating 4 out of 5]

A delightful read! A mix of Wilde's humor, Austen's perception, and Collins' intrigue. Even in those moments where I suspected exactly where the story was going, I felt so much pleasure in watching it unfold that it was not a moment's concern.

Poor Evelina, thrust upon the world without any armor but her good character to save her from the assaults of unscrupulous men, wanton women, ignorant relations and downright cruel associates, plods her way through the maze with a grace that makes you laugh when you ought to cry. Her innocence causes her to make some remarkably bad choices, but it could not be more obvious that she will need to trust to it for her deliverance. Even the well-intended in this story fall short of offering the assistance Evelina needs to navigate this world of pot-holes.

It is said that Burney was an influence on Austen, and I can certainly see that she was. Her character development and story line puts you in mind of Miss Jane right away. During some of the bantering between characters, I caught glimpses of that sharp humor that is so typical of Oscar Wilde and makes his plays such a joy. Example: "O pray, Captain," cried Mrs. Selwyn, "don't be angry with the gentleman for thinking, whatever be the cause, for I assure you he makes no common practice of offending in that way." Zing! She paints her buffoons and her true gentlemen with a broad brush, and she gives us every degree of coarseness and gentility side-by-side.

I find nothing to complain of in Ms. Burney's writing or style. My only disclaimer would be that it is very 19th Century (which I love), but if you are aggrieved by the state of a woman's lot during that time, you will find this frustrating. I kept wanting to advise Evelina myself to take the next carriage heading in the opposite direction! I give this a 4.5, only because I am very stingy with 5-star awards. Read it. You will be glad.

[Antoinette · Rating 4 out of 5]

The primary reason I read this book was the fact that it was read by Jane Austen, herself, and it was a favourite of hers. Imagine holding a book that was read by a favourite author of mine!

This book was written in 1778. I think this may be the first book I’ve read pre 1800. I was worried I’d find it a difficult read due to the language of the time, but this was not so. In fact, quite an easy read in which the text easily flowed.

This is an epistolary novel. Everything that occurs is conveyed through letters. This format worked well- I had no qualms with it. What’s surprised me was that the principal recipient was the elderly Reverend/ stand in father of Evelina and she shared absolutely everything. Maybe, young women were different in those days.

As the title indicates, this book is about Evelina, a 17 year old young lady, who is making her debut into society. She is well educated, but oh so naive of social expectations. She is beautiful, shy and demure and she attracts a lot of attention from men, much unwanted. She makes quite a few faux pas during her outings, having had no instruction on what was correct by society’s standards.

Evelina has a secretive parentage. Her mother died giving birth to her, her father had denied being married to her mother and in so doing, Evelina was unclaimed by him as his daughter.. So this novel is also about Evelina reclaiming her birthright.

This book is a satire about society and its classes. It is about societal expectations, social norms and manners and recognizing sincerity versus lies.

There is humour in this novel, mostly by Captain Mirvan. He took an instant dislike to Madame Duval, Evelina’s grandmother and he loved to torment her. I wondered if this had to do with the English/ French rivalry and animosity.

What didn’t work for me: it started to feel quite repetitive- one letter after another with a similar subject matter.

Overall, I enjoyed this book. Has it usurped Austen as a favourite? Definitely not. I found it very interesting to experience what Austen did though. I can see that she did receive some inspiration for her own books after reading this one.

Published: 1778

[Chrissie · Rating 1 out of 5]

I like neither the book nor the audiobook narration. I rate them here separately. Both I am giving one star.

I have not read many Georgian books, and this was supposed to be funny, so I thought I would give it a try. I was also curious because Jane Austen loved this author. I have tried to like the book, but I have utterly failed. The humor didn’t work for me. I would spot a line that clearly was meant to be funny, but I didn’t even crack a smile. The humor is satire, often related to what is allowed and not allowed in society, but it is not funny because there is nothing new or imaginative. Often the humor borders on the slapstick, particularly at the story’s end. Slapstick bores me. I prefer humor that demands that one thinks. This is not what is delivered here.

Let’s look at the plot. The book is an epistolary novel. We learn about Evelina through letters, the letters she sends and those she receives--all sent in one year from April to October. We learn about Evelina and her family, and the question is who will make up “her family” in the future, and obviously, whom she will marry.

The plot is predictable. The telling is melodramatic. It is sentimental. It is a retelling of the Cinderella fairy tale, made unnecessarily long and convoluted. I prefer the shorter original. Evelina could easily be cut in half.

The prose style is florid. Super wordy. It takes a whole page to say one thing. You might think the writing is long because it is supposed to sound lyrical and pretty. It isn’t.

The characters are black and white cardboard figures. Beautiful Evelina is so darn sweet, wonderful and perfect. I prefer complicated, messy people—people who are real.

Did I give the book up when I discovered I disliked the audiobook narration? NO, I did not! Seriously, I wanted to give Frances Burney’s written words a real try. The audiobook has three narrators--Finty Williams, Dame Judi Dench and Geoffrey Palmer. The latter two read well, very well. I have no complaints whatsoever regarding their performance. It is Finty Williams’ narration that gives me trouble, and unfortunately, she reads much more than the other two. She reads Evelina's letters. Williams dramatizes, and in a fashion I vehemently dislike. She reads too quickly, her French is poor and worst of all is how she renders conversations. She intones the different characters in a manner making it difficult to distinguish who says what. Male and female characters sound exactly the same. Her voice is that of a young girl. The exception is when she mimics a laugh--her laughs are extremely loud, throaty and boisterous. When she laughs, I cringe. Much of the time Finty Williams’ voice is unpleasantly shrill. I have given the narration one star because it is Williams who reads most of the book and her narration I do not like.

I wanted to like this, but I don’t. If you don’t test different types of writing, you don’t know what you might end up liking. I will soon be trying more Georgian novels. I am hoping I will like them more.

[Carol, She's so Novel ꧁꧂ · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5★

This is the oldest work I have ever read by a female writer.

I enjoyed this book at the start & 18th century life (particularly in London) really came alive for me! & I admired Evelina's courage when she was left vulnerable in so many situations.

¾ the way through & my enjoyment started to ebb. This is because Evelina was left vulnerable in so many situations! By this time I had realised ( duh!) that I was reading a satire, but a lot of it felt quite repetitive & I was thinking, "Just get on with it!" when our heroine was (yet again) accosted. Evelina was accosted a lot! The epistletory format was also starting to seem strained. I don't think this method works well in novels - it is just too limited.

I can totally see that Burney inspired both Austen & Heyer, but I think both surpassed her. I enjoyed this well enough to try another novel by Burney in the future.

[Sherwood Smith]

This reread struck me with just how thin the veneer of civilization is. Burney was in her mid-twenties when she wrote this (and had probably been writing versions of it for ten years); the central romance is very nearly bloodless, Evelina and Lord Orville being such paragons. Their relationships is only interesting when Evelina thinks he wrote her an offensive letter, but one can just make out some human interest in the two when Orville keeps coming across Evelina in the most surprising places. They scarcely exchange fifty words for nearly half the book, possibly longer, but his delicacy as he keeps coming to her rescue secures her interest, surrounded as she is by a vivid range of comical figures.

When one considers that this novel, which was a huge best seller the instant it came out, did a great deal to make novels respectable, the reader gets a sense of just how rough and bawdy eighteenth century literature was. Casual cruelty to animals, the race between old women (a bet, arranged by people who purport to be part of high society), Captain Mirvan's persecution of Madam Duval and how funny everyone found it--polite society was a dangerous place.

Vivid and apparently realistic ( or at least recognizable within the confines of comedic broad strokes) are the various marriages as well as what society was like for middle class, gentry, and lords and ladies; Vauxhall was clearly in its decline (Tom Branghton's gleeful recounting of what it was like there the last night of each season, when basically there was a riot and women running about "skimper scamper" screaming and people smashing out lights), Ranelagh was at its height; we see a night at the opera and a couple of plays (she talks about current favorites and names real performers), as well as Bath, bathing, etc.

Also interesting is seeing the ghost of Jane Austen, as it were, for instance Orville's first, unconsidered put-down of Evelina, who, being a total innocent, behaves oddly at her first ball, is a reminder of Darcy's put-down of Lizzie Bennet the first time they all meet at a dance. Certain lines also evoke Austen.

[Wealhtheow · Rating 3 out of 5]

Written more than thirty years before Austen’s first novel was published, it concerns eighteenth century society rather than nineteenth century. As such, I found myself constantly at a loss. Before reading this book, I thought I had a good handle on the manners of the period. I know the difference between a barouche, a phaeton, and a curricle, and that a lady would never stand up and leave a conversation, and that men knew classical languages and women, only modern. And yet, I was utterly confused by Evelina. (The following block of text contains spoilers, so beware.)A major piece of the plot is that Evelina (a young girl only just out into society) receives the following note:

"To Miss Anville.
"With transport, most charming of thy sex, did I read the letter
with which you yesterday morning favoured me. I am sorry the
affair of the carriage should have given you any concern,
but I am highly flattered by the anxiety you express so
kindly. Believe me, my lovely girl, I am truly sensible
to the honour of your good opinion, and feel myself deeply
penetrated with love and gratitude. The correspondence you
have so sweetly commenced, I shall be proud of continuing;
and I hope the strong sense I have of the favour you do me
will prevent your withdrawing it. Assure yourself, that I
desire nothing more ardently than to pour forth my thanks at
your feet, and to offer those vows which are so justly the
tribute of your charms and accomplishments. In your next
I intreat you to acquaint me how long you shall remain in
town. The servant, whom I shall commission to call for an
answer, has orders to ride post with it to me. My impatience
for his arrival will be very great, though inferior to that
with which I burn to tell you, in person, how much I am,
my sweet girl, your grateful admirer, "ORVILLE."


After reading this, she is horrified and flees London, overcome with shame. WHAT? Ok, so an unmarried woman would not correspond with an unmarried man to whom she was not related or engaged. But she’s so shocked that she says, “As a sister I loved him;-I could have entrusted him with every thought of my heart, had he deigned to wish my confidence: so steady did I think his honour, so feminine his delicacy, and so amiable his nature! I have a thousand times imagined that the whole study of his life, and whole purport of his reflections, tended solely to the good and happiness of others: but I will talk,-write,-think of him no more!” Yeah, that’s what I want in a man—feminine delicacy and brotherly love. Eew. Then, she shows the letter to her guardian, the milquetoast Mr. Villars, who says, "I can form but one conjecture concerning this most extraordinary performance: he must certainly have been intoxicated when he wrote it." "That a man who had behaved with so strict a regard to delicacy," continued Mr. Villars, "and who, as far as occasion had allowed, manifested sentiments the most honourable, should thus insolently, thus wantonly, insult a modest young woman, in his perfect senses, I cannot think possible.” WTF, dudes? God forbid the man you love should actually *write* to you, or in any way communicate his affection. Oh no! Some time later, after Evelina and Lord Orville have reconciled, her guardian sends a fire and brimstone letter, writing,

“Awake then, my dear, my deluded child, awake to the sense of your danger, and exert yourself to avoid the evils with which it threatens you:-evils which, to a mind like yours, are most to be dreaded; secret repining, and concealed, yet consuming regret! Make a noble effort for the recovery of your peace, which now, with sorrow I see it, depends wholly upon the presence of Lord Orville. This effort may indeed be painful; but trust to my experience, when I assure you it is requisite.

You must quit him!-his sight is baneful to your repose, his society is death to your future tranquility! Believe me, my beloved child, my heart aches for your suffering, while it dictates its necessity.”

Because clearly, falling in love MUST NEVER HAPPEN. You must be calm and passionless at all times. If you like someone, you must flee their company! How did anyone get married in these days? You can’t go up and introduce yourself—you must hope to be introduced by some mutual respectable friend. You must not dance with any one partner more than a couple times a night, nor may you find yourself in intimate conversations with anyone of the opposite sex. You cannot write to your love, not even the most innocent and affection-free of notes. You cannot hint that you like someone, until you actually ask them to marry you. Only *after* you are engaged may you show any hint of affection or partiality, or indeed, write or talk to your fiancee. ARRGH!

Reading a romance set in a different century is really a trip. As a reader, I usually know who is being cast as the romantic lead, who is secretly evil, who will unexpectedly assist the main character, etc. But in this book, all the signals I rely upon were gone, or meant something else entirely. The man who seeks out Evelina’s company, befriends her friends, and tries to make her happy, is apparently a dissolute and foolish rake. The man who is cold, thinks of her as a sister, and has nothing to do with her for 8/9ths of the novel, is her love interest. His very coldness and “lack of partiality” is what is explicitly stated (by several characters) as his most romantic aspect. Her guardian, Mr. Villars, swears that the outside world is too indelicate and dangerous for her and tries to keep cloistered forever in the country, with only him for company. The first ten pages of Evelina show him refusing to allow Evelina out of his sight. Among many creepy assertions, he writes,
“She is one, Madam, for whom alone I have lately wished to live; and she is one whom to serve I would with transport die! Restore her but to me all innocence as you receive her, and the fondest hope of my heart will be amply gratified. “
He clutches her to his bosom all the time. When she writes about feeling affection for another man, he responds, “my Evelina,-sole source, to me, of all earthly felicity. How strange, then, is it, that the letter in which she tells me she is the happiest of human beings, should give me most mortal inquietude!” That reads as serious jealousy to me. Then Evelina’s father (who abandoned her mother many years ago) writes “It seldom happens that a man, though extolled as a saint, is really without blemish; or that another, though reviled as a devil, is really without humanity. Perhaps the time is not very distant, when I may have the honour to convince your Ladyship of this truth, in regard to Mr. Villars and myself.” Which again, reads to me that Mr. Villars is not what he seems. And yet, through to the end, all of the characters continue to think Mr. Villars is the most moral and high-minded of men. He is never revealed to have ulterior motives. His counsel is much sought after and well regarded. Weird.

Overall, Evelina is a very fun read. I could hardly put it down, and I’d definitely recommend it to anyone. Nevertheless, it contains some very creepy messages. Evelina’s beauty is praised, but what everyone finds the most attractive about her is her timid inability to say what she thinks or be negative in any way. She constantly gets into trouble (and in fact, is almost raped) due to her naïve and bashful nature, yet it is exactly what everyone likes best, and what critics of this book call and exceedingly moral message. Any character who speaks clearly (Captain Mirvan, Mrs. Selwyn) is thought of as very uncouth. Neither character has patience for the long, drawn out methods of polite society, and mock the pretentions of the fops and would-be aristocrats. Mrs. Selwyn is particularly effective at exposing the ignorance and foolishness of Evelina’s companions, and so of course she is described as unpleasantly masculine and rapidly shut out from truly nice society*. I have some very strong feelings about this book, and I’m not the only one—apparently there have been FLAME WARS about this novel, which is freaking awesome.


*'"I have an insuperable aversion to strength, either of body or mind, in a female."

"Faith, and so have I," said Mr. Coverley; "for egad, I'd as soon see a woman chop wood, as hear her chop logic."

"So would every man in his senses," said Lord Merton, "for a woman wants nothing to recommend her but beauty and good-nature; in everything else she is either impertinent or unnatural. For my part, deuce take me if ever I wish to hear a word of sense from a woman as long as I live!"

"It has always been agreed," said Mrs. Selwyn, looking round her with the utmost contempt, "that no man ought to be connected with a woman whose understanding is superior to his own. Now I very much fear, that to accommodate all this good company, according to such a rule, would be utterly impracticable, unless we should choose subjects from Swift's hospital of idiots."

How many enemies, my dear Sir, does this unbounded severity excite!'

[Katie Lumsden · Rating 3 out of 5]

Maybe 3.5. I did enjoy this, but it took me a little while to get into; for me the stronger section was the last quarter. The letter form didn't entirely work for me, but Evelina is an interesting character, and it's a fun read. I can certainly see how Burney inspired Jane Austen, although I have to say I much prefer Jane Austen!

[Sasha · Rating 3 out of 5]

Saw With Manners

"How in the world can you contrive to pass your time?"
"In a manner which your Lordship will think very extraordinary; for the young lady reads."

First the good news: Evelina is a story about introverts in love, and it has moments that are lovely. I recognized my introverted wife in several passages. Burney has an insightful touch with characterization, and an engaging writing style. Evelina is rarely compelling to read, but it's usually pleasant.

Now for the bad news: unfortunately, the introverts in this book also happen to be wildly boring. The "infinitely lovely" Evelina spends most of her time getting into awkward social situations she lacks the strength to disengage from, and then fainting about it; especially in the first half, it's little more than one excruciatingly uncomfortable, lengthy interaction after another. It's like Saw with manners.

And the object of her constant mooning - the "cold, inanimate, phlegmatic" Lord Orville, so described by one of the many supporting characters who are complete dicks but also at least slightly more interesting than him - conjures up no fantasy more alluring than a lifetime of sitting around making polite conversation.

"Nothing is so delicate as the reputation of a woman: it is at once the most beautiful and most brittle of all human things."

The plot hinges - again and again - on misunderstanding leading to mortification, just like any number of modern situation comedies in which the whole thing could be cleared up instantly if people just communicated with each other like normal humans.

It's not terrible, but there's only so much you can do with a story about boring people falling slowly into boring love.

[Issicratea · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is an engaging novel, as well as a historically interesting one. I can see why it was a hit at the time. It’s uneven, and rather diffuse for modern tastes; and the plot is artificial and implausible. On the plus side, though, it has a real freshness and zest about it; Evelina is an appealingly imperfect heroine; the satire can be sharp; and Burney handles the unforgiving structure of the epistolary novel far more deftly than most.

Burney published Evelina anonymously at the age of twenty-six, in 1778, although she was rapidly identified as the author. The origin of the novel makes a good story. Burney claims in the preface to her last novel, The Wanderer (1814), that, at the age of fifteen, she destroyed all her childhood writings, feeling that “scribbling” was no way for a respectable young lady to spend her time. Among the destroyed works was a novel about a seduced-and-abandoned young woman named Caroline Evelyn. Evelina, telling the story of Caroline’s daughter, is the sequel to this vanished work.

The main theme of the novel is the sheltered and countrified young Evelina’s “coming out” into the world of late eighteenth-century polite society, first in the respectable upper middle-class world of her childhood acquaintances the Mirvans; then in the ropier company of her grandmother, Mme Duval and her aspiring silversmith relatives, the Branghtons; and, finally—moving from London to Bristol (or, better, the short-lived spa resort of “Bristol Hotwells”) with the more aristocratic circles of Mrs Beaumont.

Burney uses these shifts in setting to give a highly articulated vision of the class system of Georgian England. I was concerned after the Holborn moment (the déclassé world of the Branghtons) that Burney was siding with the elegant aristos over the pushy plebs, but it’s not at all that simple; the final section is at least as satirical as the others, and aristocratic characters like the languorous Lady Louisa Larpent are at least as lampooned as anyone who has gone before.

Burney has a great deal in common with Jane Austen—or, better, Austen learned a lot from Burney. Austen uses essentially the same ingredients, but she refines and condenses them, and eliminates some of the racier and more “eighteenth-century” elements. The meeting between Evelina and Lord Orville at a ball is clearly the model for Elizabeth Bennett’s meeting with Mr Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, for example, but it’s impossible to imagine Austen touching with a bargepole the episode in Evelina where two gambling-mad young rakes decide to bet on a footrace between two eighty-year-old women for a lark.

It’s actually a very good scene, in a grotesque way—the footrace scene—in that the callousness these men display towards these “low-value” human beings (old, female, poor) points up the more refined, drawing-room cruelty we see elsewhere in the novel. Evelina is higher-value by virtue of being young and beautiful, but her lack of rank and “birth” and wealth leads this same set of rakes to regard her as pure, potential prey, while the women in their circle (I’m looking at you, Lady Louisa) treat her as if she simply didn’t exist.

Apart from its other merits, Evelina is extraordinary as a document of social history. The first two segments of the novel, set in London, take us on a tour of practically all the sights of 1770s London—not simply the theatre and the opera and Vauxhall Gardens and Ranelagh Gardens, but more ephemeral entertainments such as the “fantocini” (an Italian puppet theatre), or the exhibition of automata and curiosities known as Cox’s Museum, or the various downmarket inns and prostitute-haunted tea gardens frequented by the Branghtons.

We also hear the language of the moment, as well; that was something I loved in the novel. Burney tends to italicize colloquialisms that are not yet part of the language, so that you can catch English idioms that are now blandly familiar in their wilder youth. Among the entertainments initially offered to Evelina in London are going a-shopping or seeing sights; she is mad (in the sense of angry) at an importunate visit; a character comments on a practical joke that he has never heard anything so funny in his life.

[shakespeareandspice · Rating 4 out of 5]

The only thing that halts this from being a 5 star read is that while this book is clearly very satirical, there were some parts of the novel that somewhat made me uncomfortable. Not a big deal to be honest but I wasn’t able to really laugh it off when people—by people, I mean Willoughby—kept physically grabbing Evelina whenever they pleased. As this is almost an assault, I felt uncomfortable trying to find humor there.

However, I do wish more novels such as these existed. Rarely can I read an eighteenth-century classic and say it was hilarious (and not without some depth).

And now I just want to read more Austen too.

[Margitte · Rating 4 out of 5]

Here is the blurb in a spoiler:
Frances Burney's first and most enduringly popular novel is a vivid, satirical, and seductive account of the pleasures and dangers of fashionable life in late eighteenth-century London.

As she describes her heroine's entry into society, womanhood and, inevitably, love, Burney exposes the vulnerability of female innocence in an image-conscious and often cruel world where social snobbery and sexual aggression are played out in the public arenas of pleasure-gardens, theater visits, and balls. But Evelina's innocence also makes her a shrewd commentator on the excesses and absurdities of manners and social ambitions--as well as attracting the attention of the eminently eligible Lord Orville.

Evelina, comic and shrewd, is at once a guide to fashionable London, a satirical attack on the new consumerism, an investigation of women's position in the late eighteenth century, and a love story. The new introduction and full notes to this edition help make this richness all the more readily available to a modern reader.

Is it fate or destiny or simply boredom? Perhaps curiosity. I don't know. I finished reading Persuasion by Jane Austen, and in further reading discovered that she was greatly influenced by Fanny Burney's novels. Frances 'Fanny' Burney(1752-1840). I chose her novel Evelina, as introduction to her writings.

Early this year I decided to venture into older novels. Once again. Ended up with Persuasion(published 1817), which I thought was old enough. But no, Fanny Burney took me back to 1778! What a delightful discovery.

In the foreword of the Gutenberg version of the novel, Sir Walter Scott in his anonymous review of Emma (1816) had recast Jane Austen's novels as examples of a new genre, the realist modern novel, favorably contrasting them with old-fashioned melodrama and romance, which taught "the youth of this realm ... the doctrine of selfishness" in pursuing imprudent love. (Oh myyyy, right?! - allow me a few giggles, if you please. Old fashioned?! )

Astonishment: Fanny Burney was a much more successful author than Jane Austen, and highly popular (which Austen at the time was not). I would say Burney's novels fitted even better into the the realist modern novel-genre. Austen certainly applied the same flair to her own novels.

In the preface of the Penguin Classics version I chose to read, it is stated:
In this comic and sharply incisive satire of excess and affectation, beautiful young Evelina falls victim to the rakish advances of Sir Clement Willoughby on her entrance to the world of fashionable London. Colliding with the manners and customs of a society she doesn’t understand, she finds herself without hope that she should ever deserve the attention of the man she loves. Frances Burney’s first novel brilliantly sends up eighteenth-century society – and its opinions of women – while enticingly depicting its delights ...

AND

(I believe it is the words of Fanny herself)
Let me, therefore, prepare for disappointment those who, in the perusal of these sheets, entertain the gentle expectation of being transported to the fantastic regions of Romance, where Fiction is coloured by all the gay tints of luxurious Imagination, where Reason is an outcast, and where the sublimity of the Marvelous, rejects all aid from sober Probability. The heroine of these memoirs, young, artless, and inexperienced, is No faultless Monster, that the world ne’er saw, but the offspring of Nature, and of Nature in her simplest attire.

Evelina, published anonymously in 1778, is in epistolary format. She introduced a string of relevant characters to the plot who really lit up the novel like a fire cracker.

One of my favorite rogues was Captain Mervin. He was the numero uno personna non grata, like Alfred. P. Doolittle, Eliza's father, was in George Bernard Shaw's 1913 play, Pygmalion. Remember the musical My Fair Lady which was based on this play? Captain Mervin was suppose to have a little more flair, or suaveness. Much higher up the class ladder, I you will, than the dust man Doolittle. Captain Mervin was married to sweet, gentle-hearted Mrs. Mervin.

He had a weird sadistic way of hiding his secret infatuation, and probably love-sick devotion to Evelina's equally outrageous grandmother from France, Madame Duval. It was like two monumental volcanic eruptions perpetually rubbing up against each other in mutual molten fury. Oh my goodness, it was really wild!

If he couldn't prank her, which had him in fits of laughter at her discomfort, he called her names: 'Old Madam French', 'Madame Furbelow'.

He would eventually admit that Madame Duval hit his fancy mightly. He never took so much to an old tabby before.

However, gross, obnoxious and vile he could be, he opened up the broader, more dangerous outside world to the young Evelina by accompanying and introducing her to London under his 'çare'. Here and there, he provided protection, although often unwelcomed or appreciated, and never without utter social chaos. He lacked decorum and modesty. He knew how to get rid of unsuitable beaus such as Mr. Lovel, but in his case Captain Mervin used pranks to scare the suitor off. Mr. Lovel, according to Evelina, was impertinent and malicious. Well, he actually was a kind of pathetic creature. Even Mrs. Selwyn had a thing or two to say about Mr. Lovel, in his presence. 'Oh pray, Captain,' cried Mrs. Selwyn, 'don't be angry with the gentleman for thinking, whatever be the cause, for I assure you he makes no common practice of offending in that way.' In the absence of bodily pranks on Mr. Lovel, he was also called a few names by said Captain. 'Mr. Wiseacre', or 'Harkee, my spark', or 'Mr. Clappperclaw'.

Her introduction to new relations, friends, and the big city of London, was the opposite of what her devoted and loving foster parent Rev. Mr Villars had in mind. He preferred to keep her secluded, almost hidden away from the world to safe her the embarrassment of her history. She was the daughter of a secret marriage between Sir John Belmont and her mother Caroline. After Sir Belmont ripped up the marriage certificate, disavowing the marriage, Evelina's future was socially destroyed, even though Sir Belmont was unaware of her existence. By keeping these events secret, and her birth even more in the dark, Rev. Mr Villars was hoping to ensure another kind of happiness to the beautiful young woman.

Consider this: there was a peculiar cruelty to her situation; only child of a wealthy Baronet, whose person she has never seen, whose character she has reason to abhor, and whose name she is forbidden to claim; entitled as she is to lawfully inherit his fortune and estate.

However, Madame Duval found out about her granddaughter Evelina, and was on her own mission to show remorse for her own part in her daughter Caroline's demise. To make matters worse, she was determined to introduce eighteen-year-old Evelina to her 'other' family, the Branghtons.

Lord have mercy. Mr. Branghton had his hands full with his competitive and quarrelsome children and his work as a silver-smith. To top it all off, they had a lodger, poor Mr. Macartney, who had to survive the family's shenanigans and immediately upon meeting Evelina, formed a strange bond with her. He was not a contender to her love, neither were they best friends. Something else brought them together. Fate had a strong hand here. It would affect them both in mysterious ways. Dear innocent Evelina, the country bumpkin, apathetic to class differences and social discrimination, with her kindness and care, changed his motivation to live again. There was much more to this story than just that.

Rev. Mr Villars had reason to be concerned. There was conniving, vengeful, characters such as Sir Clement Willoughby out there in the social wild. He was like a hound dog set loose to discover Evelina's secret and to flaunt his unwelcome attentions on her. Evelina called him her persecutor. Strange, provoking, ridiculous, bold, disgustful. A perfect partner for Captain Mervin. He blew in every which direction of Captain Mervin's wind storms. The Captain did not have the same agenda as Willoughby, but they sure formed a strong bond in executing their own plans.

Other perky characters, such as Mrs. Selwyn, who had a wit and presence of her own, played a vital role in 'normalizing' Evelina's entrance, or coming of age experience into the world of nobility and their ilk. She was a strong-willed and determined woman in any challenge she took on. It was much better to suffer her laughter than provoke her satire, as people such as Mr. Lovel discovered. And later she taught Sir Belmont a lesson or two as well. Unstoppable and stubborn. That was Mrs. Selwyn.

Excluded from this social cast's mannerisms, was Lord Orville. The perfect gentleman. With a soul and presence like no other. The anchor of Evelina in her adventures and trials to maneuver through all the challenges when her grandmother arrived on the scene. Never a dull moment.

Numerous other characters came in play. Too many to mention. I will stop here.

Fanny Burney was a member of a big, complicated, popular family and it reflected in her work. The Cambridge Companion to Frances Burney by Peter Sabor, provided insight into the author as well as how she applied her own story and wit to her characters.

Evelina is not a gothic read. There is lightness and humor present in her plot and characters. It was her own journal-writing since she was a young girl, that lead to her first epistolary novel, with both her own father, Dr. Charles Burney, as well as her mentor, Dr. Samuel Johnson, embedded in the character of Rev. Mr Villars. Dr. Johnson teasingly described Fanny as a 'Character Monger'. It was clear that she enjoyed creating all her characters, the twisty plot with multiple surprises, and release her satirical view of the class differences into her writing, no matter the consequences at the time.

In his essay 'On the Aristocracy of Letters', published in 1821, the critic William Hazlit, close friend of James and Charles Burney junior, declared, There is no end of it [the Burney family] or its pretensions. It produces wits, scholars, novelists, musicians, artists in "numbers numberless". The name is alone a passport to the Temple of Fame.

It is clear why Jane Austen would have enjoyed the work of Fanny Burney. They were socially worlds apart in their backgrounds and writings. Jane Austen appeared to be reclusive and private, as well as morally differently wired, while Fanny Burney was the bell of the ball as far as social connections was concerned. Burney moved in the upper middle classes and was in constant contact with famous and accomplished people through her family.

I would love to continue writing about this novel. I have so many notes. I can only hope that Fanny Burney won't remain mostly an academic enigma, but will be discovered by many new readers on their own. She is worth a read.

The novel was a true delight. My word, what a discovery indeed!

More info on Frances (Fanny) Burney
Francis Burney turned out to be one of the leading cultural figures of the eighteenth century. She was the inspiration for later authors such as Charles Dickenson, Anne Radcliff, Maria Edgeworth, the Bronte sisters, and Jane Austen. Virginia Woolf declared Burney the Mother of English Fiction and the master of social courtship in novels. There were predecessors such as Samuel Richardson, Aphra Behn, Eliza Heywood (but the latter two were women of scandal with writing to match). Frances Burney: the "Mother of English Fiction" by Kate O'Connor

A little tidbit of Aphra Behn(Baptised 14 December 1640, Died 16 April 1689 (aged 48)):
She is remembered in Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own: "All women together ought to let flowers fall upon the tomb of Aphra Behn which is, most scandalously but rather appropriately, in Westminster Abbey, for it was she who earned them the right to speak their minds."

Eliza Heywood (née Fowler, (born 1693?—died February 25, 1756, London), prolific English writer of sensational romantic novels that mirrored contemporary 18th-century scandals.
18th Century Actress, Prolific Writer, Political Satirist, Magazine Pioneer ThoughtCo

[Marquise · Rating 3 out of 5]

Well... This novel left me with feelings of dissatisfaction that threaten to overshadow all the initial enjoyment I got out of it.

Primarily, it is that I believe the epistolary format was inadequate for the story, it only allows a mere glimpse into the setting through a very narrow and deficient slit. We're confined to read everything mostly through Evelina's version of events in letters to her guardian, Mr Villars, and given that the heroine is an ingénue bordering on helpless maiden or silly princess stereotypes (despite not being characterised as silly per se), which to me was unappealing and irritating. Secondly, it was the characterisation, which Burney isn't very good at, for she endows everything good and pure and true on her heroine while she makes the rest of the characters (save for the beau and hero, Orville) look like caricatures out of a cheap farce. Which leads me to the third point I wasn't impressed with: the humour. Burney doesn't handle comic relief as well as she could here, and instead of making me smile, she made me wish she had got rid of her annoying side characters, particularly Captain Mirvan and Madame Duval, who are so grotesque and unfunny in Burney's attempts to make them be "funny" as she understands humour.

Finally, the whole story relied a tad much on the now commonplace Misunderstanding trope, and by that, became so predictable that the later parts of the book were harder to read, to the point that when the last letter finally arrives, it's a relief it was over as it was getting too sentimental and in need of a quick ending before more of its initial appeal dwindled further. Maybe this just wasn't the ideal introduction to Fanny Burney's work, for it was more of a mixed bag experience to me than I'd expected.

[Shala Howell · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read this because I was curious to know more about the novels Jane Austen herself read. And I must say that while this book has its strong points, its main effect is to increase my respect for how Austen reshaped the novel form. Burney's book is amusing, but the characters seem to be defined almost entirely by a single characteristic. They are either all good or all bad, entirely proper or thoroughly vulgar, fully conscious or fainted dead away. There is little development of character through the book, no fundamental changes in anyone's behavior. Just two marriages to conclude the farce, with no one the wiser. Austen, in contrast, treats us to real people, with all the nuance of character and emotional development that implies.

That said, I really enjoyed Mrs. Selwyn's character. Whenever she speaks I can almost imagine that I've stumbled into an Oscar Wilde play.

(A longer version of this review is available on my book blog, Bostonwriters.wordpress.com)

[The Phoenix · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reread. I DNF this time. Not because it's not a good book. It's really good! Frances Burney is a really great author who inspired Jane Austen. And her diaries show what a genuinely good hearted person she was. This time around I just couldn't focus on it.

[Justin Evans · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'll admit that reading 18th century fiction is sometimes harder than I'd like it to be. The authors either don't know, or just don't abide by, the rules of fiction that we're all used to. But more and more often I'm struck instead by the sheer joy and verve that animates 18th century novels, and that often seems to have gone missing in the twentieth century--and, obviously, this very much the case with Evelina. There's not a whole lot of unity to the tale, and there are plenty of scenes that Burney includes for no reason other than that they're funny and or mortifying (e.g., random monkey attack towards the end of the novel. No, really.) But it turns out that the funniness, sentiment and mortification of these scenes is more than enough justification. Burney is funnier than Fielding, more touching than Richardson, and a better writer than everyone but Swift at his best--and this is her first novel. I'm looking forward to the others. If you're really into Austen, and can handle some rougher edges and a more satirical narrator, this is a great book for you: Evelina herself is the Great English Heroine a few years after Clarissa, and a few years before Lizzie Bennett.

The most interesting part of this book, though, is the way Burney plays with the modes of eighteenth century fiction: she gives us satire, sentiment, farce, social commentary, bawdy wit, and sententious BS in almost equal doses. And most impressively of all, you can sense that Burney is in total control of all of them, recognizes that each mode lines up well with a way of life as much as with a literary fashion (sometimes this is made obvious in the novel, as Mrs Selwyn stands for satire and Villars stands for sententiousness), and is willing to give each a say--before, ultimately, coming down on the side of Selwyn's satire and Evelina's proto-LizBennettian irony (which itself develops throughout the book rather than being, as in Austen, constant from the start of P&P). She wields a kind of authorial control that very few twentieth century anglophone authors can (Anthony Powell, William Gaddis, J. G. Farrell and Muriel Spark come to mind as possible comparisons).

PS: this edition is great, too--lovingly and helpfully annotated and introduced.

[Kristi Siegel · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you think about the heroines in 18th century literature, most of them have a rather arduous time, e.g., Moll Flanders’ hard knock life (Defoe), Clarissa’s determination to endure and persevere (Richardson), Pamela’s dull, methodical virtue (Richardson), or Emily’s inability to understand the floor plan (Radcliffe). In contrast, Evelina's character exudes spontaneity, and the book—particularly set against the darker novels of this age—seems sunny in comparison.

Her novel is a true bildungsroman, for Evelina’s central problem is learning to act correctly in her world. [As a side note, I’ve developed a new respect for the niceties of etiquette after reading The Book of Household Management (Isabella Mary Beeton, 1861), which outlines the infinitely complex rules of conduct for the lady of the house in the mid-nineteenth century.:]

The country and the city form the two poles of Evelina’s life. As a “rustic,” Evelina’s rural values put her at a disadvantage in urban society. By learning the more polished social skills, she gradually establishes a harmonious relationship with the urban world and its complicated etiquette. In keeping with the broad aims of comedy, Evelina’s problems are small problems. Her main problem is one of balance; she must neither be destroyed by the urban world nor completely seduced by it. Rather, Evelina needs to retain the best of both worlds: the simplicity and honesty typically associated with the country along with the culture of the city.

Though Evelina’s mother is dead, and her father does not acknowledge her, she nevertheless has someone to whom she may appeal when her small crises arise. Unlike the other heroines of this era—who are often forced to act quickly—Evelina’s predicaments are on a far smaller scale, and she is either given enough time to control the outcome or someone intercedes on her behalf.

Evelina’s early mistakes prove less grave errors than humorous faux pas. Her initial enthusiasm for the wonders of London diminishes after she attends her first ball. There, Evelina declines her first invitation to dance, assessing her admirer, quite rightly, to be a conceited fop. When another man, Lord Orville, whom Evelina describes as “gaily, but not foppishly dressed, and indeed extremely handsome” asks her to dance, Evelina complies. His composure and grace, however, make Evelina feel awkward. When Lord Orville attempts to get her to talk, first discussing the ball, then public places and events, and finally the country, Evelina perceives his intent:

It now struck me, that he was resolved to try whether or not I was capable of talking on any subject. This put so great a constraint on my thoughts, that I was unable to go further than a monosyllable, and not even so far, when I could possibly avoid it.”

…And it is these types of passages that look forward to the wit of Jane Austen in the 19th century.

Meanwhile, Evelina’s embarrassment continues. Mr. Lovel, the man who had originally asked Evelina to dance, returns. As he begins to speak, his “stately foppishness” makes Evelina lose control and start laughing. Mr. Lovel—who had come back to ask why Evelina had refused to dance with him—becomes enraged and even Lord Orville can only stare. Dimly and belatedly, Evelina remembers the rules of decorum:

A confused idea now for the first time entered my head, of something I had heard of the rules of assemblies; but I was never at one before,--I have only danced at school,--and so giddy and heedless I was, that I had not once considered the impropriety of refusing one partner, and afterwards accepting another. I was thunderstruck at the recollection….

Evelina’s gaffes continue, but her problem is more a matter of fine tuning. The appeal of this novel rests in Evelina’s astute observations of herself and society.

Like Jane Austen, Fanny Burney casts a clear eye on her world and notes its foibles with wit, wisdom, and poignancy.

[BAM doesn’t answer to her real name · Rating 2 out of 5]

Catching up with the classics #12

I had such high hopes for this novel. Hyped as THE ladies’ read of the late eighteenth century, it was so insipid I wanted to throw my phone and stop the audio play. It had its shining Austen-esque moments (there is even a Willoughby), but not enough to satisfy.
Evelina learns how to deal with posh society at the hands at the not so well meaning adults in her life. In fact they are fairly selfish and conniving. She is a new born babe utterly clueless, artless, and it’s quite painful to read about her escapades. I couldn’t hope but wish her well, and very soon.
I’m happy I reads this, and I really wouldn’t mind reading more Burney when I need a bit of fluff to come down from some heavy nonfiction.

[Abigail Bok · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fanny Burney is like Jane Austen in pupal stage. Her novels use the same marriage plot as the frame for social satire; but what was in Burney’s writing the promise of this premise was only elevated to high art by Austen. Evelina is supposed to have been Jane Austen’s favorite novel, and indeed one can often find echoes of familiar Austen characters or phrases in the book, betraying how deeply familiar it was to her (it was published in 1778, when Jane Austen was a toddler). One can’t read “Remember, my dear Evelina, nothing is so delicate as the reputation of a woman: it is, at once, the most delicate and most brittle of all human things” and not recall Mary Bennet’s spurious consolation to her sisters after Lydia elopes with Wickham in Pride and Prejudice. And “She has some good qualities, but they rather originate from pride than principle” foreshadows Darcy’s confession to Elizabeth after his second proposal.

Evelina is an epistolary novel—written entirely as a sequence of letters, mostly from the heroine herself, with a few responses from her correspondents and others—and suffers from the awkwardnesses and improbabilities of most novels that use this device. The letters are ridiculously long, and faithfully report entire conversations word-for-word, including conversations the youthful and rustic heroine could scarcely have understood. Letters take a ridiculous amount of time to be delivered when it is useful for the plot to have misunderstandings prolonged, and so on. The book also suffers from the author’s divided loyalties: obviously, she feels compelled to place an innocent embodiment of virtue at the center of her story, but in fact she is much more interested in mocking contemporary mores and reporting the witty or outrageous conversations of secondary characters. This is especially evident at the end, when the scenes in which the hero and heroine come to an understanding and wed are treated almost offhandedly, overshadowed by the endless drawing-room chatter of the comic figures in the story. Minor characters also appear and disappear to suit the needs of the story or the author’s mood, and travel to odd corners of England simply to further the plot.

Nevertheless, many of the characters are vividly drawn and entertaining to read about, and one wishes the heroine to come to no lasting harm, if only because the shape of the marriage plot requires it. Fanny Burney gives us a more robust version of life among the Georgian gentry than in Jane Austen’s ladylike novels—at least the work she submitted for publication (JA’s unpublished works are a different matter).

I’m glad I read Evelina at last, and I’m glad it wasn’t as long as Burney’s later Camilla!

[Peter · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fanny Burney's Evelina is a book I have often heard about but never seemed to get around to reading. I'm glad I did. You can certainly see why Austen praised Burney so much, and it is evident that Evelina functioned as a template for Austen's novels.

This novel gives us a clear and candid look at a young woman as she tries to navigate her way around and through society. There are the literary tropes of the title character initially not knowing the full story of her background, male suitors both fair and foul vying for her heart, and the inevitable introduction of a country girl learning how to navigate herself into London society.

The novel is written in an epistolary fashion, but Burney manages to create distinct characters and personalities within this style. There is a clear control over the plot, and the characters do manage to reveal themselves to the reader (and the novel's characters) as the story moves along.

To me, the main attraction was to read a novel by a woman written just after Richardson's Pamala and Fielding's Tom Jones. There are elements of both those novels in Evelina, but Birney does not copy their style. Rather, she builds upon the earlier novels with a fresh perspective and creative energy. For any Austen fan this is a must-read novel.

[Miriam · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm so surprised that Fanny Burney could write in such a modern way: her style is not at all dated, and the story is funny and compelling.
The Evelina of the title is a young girl, not recognized by her noble father Lord John Belmont, and raised up by a vicar in the country.
She is pure and naive, and at the beginning of the novel she is invited to meet some acquantances in London. She will find herself in a whirlwind of balls, concerts and plays, at disadvantage among vain people, so different from her. Through her letters she will keep her adopted father (and the reader too) updated of what will happen to her in the big city.
The prose is really brilliant, a real treat.

[Hannah · Rating 5 out of 5]

5 Stars - Superb book!

I am genuinely surprised at how much I enjoyed this book. Not because I expected to not enjoy it but because I really didn't think I would enjoy it that much - no other real reason. (I'm a bit of a skeptical reader but this one won me over). I don't remember why I put this on my to-read list but I'm glad I did!

Fanny Burney was Jane Austen's predecessor and inspiration, really. I was hoping I would see some hints of Jane Austen in this book and I definitely did! In this particular story, I found elements of all of Austen's most popular books. I was actually astounded at the similarities. I also enjoyed, being a fan of Jane Austen, being able to see who inspired her writing. If you're an Austen fan I would highly recommend this one! I'm also a bit disappointed that because Ms. Burney preceded Austen and played a big role in Austen's writing, more people aren't aware of her. I think it's a disservice to both authors (for different reasons).

The book is written solely in letter format. At first I didn't know if I would like to read a whole book in that format but it got to a point where I didn't notice it anymore (because the letters were relatively long and contained dialogue).

The main character's Evelina's, background is really interesting and plays a big part in the story. I really enjoyed her character. She was strong but fit into the time period for which she was intended (much like Austen heroines). Her family though were all just absolutely awful but so well written you have to admire at least that. There are so many characters that I dislike and who annoyed me but, as I said, they're so well written - they are consistent in their awfulness. For instance in this story, the constant male assumption that they're saving females/doing them a favor is absolutely revolting (plus, they assume that women should be flattered by that!). It was annoying but I think the author made it purposely so, so I can't fault her for that.

The relationship between Lord Orville and Evelina reminded me of so many Austen relationships. At first it reminded of of Darcy and Elizabeth because he disapproved of her. However I could see glimpses of every other Austen couple in them. I'm not making lite when I say that it is VERY clear that Burney inspired Austen.

My one qualm with the book is toward the end. Evelina is, in my opinion, so quickly reconciled to her biological father. I wanted her to hold out more but she was so forgiving. Maybe I'm petty/non-forgiving but he definitely did not deserve the affection and attention he eventually received from Evelina.

The formula of the book, if you've read Austen, is similar but there are some definite curve balls thrown in there. Absolutely recommend this one!

[Kate · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Evelina, the first and best of Fanny Burney's novels, tells the story of a young girl, fresh from the provinces, whose initiation into the ways of the world is frequently painful, though it leads to self-discovery, moral growth, and finally, happiness. Hilarious comedy and moral gravity make the novel a fund of entertainment and wisdom. Out of the graceful shifts from the idyllic to the near-tragic and realistic, Evelina emerges as a fully realized character. And out of its treatment of contrasts -- the peace of the countryside and the cultured and social excitement of London and Bristol, the crowd of life-like vulgarians and the elegant gentry -- the novel reveals superbly the life and temper of eighteenth-century England, as seen through the curiosity of its young heroine."
~~back cover

I disagree that Evelina underwent self-discovery or moral growth. Granted, she learned to converse with other people on social occasions; she also learned how to behave at assemblies and dances. Other than that, it seems to me she remained the same uncritical, unmetamorphed from the shy, humble young lady who first ventured away from the idyllic Berry Hill and a doting father who had done his best to keep her unspoiled and unworldly. I understand that the characters were made sterotypes and drawn larger than life to make a point, but I found Evelina's eternal self-depreciating modesty, Lord Orville's perfection, Captain Mirvan's abominable cruelty and coarseness, Mr. Villar's fond devotion of his entire life to Evelina -- all boring and predictable after the first hundred pages or so.

[Ely Gocce di Rugiada · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un romanzo epistolare carico di contenuti, humor e classicità.In ogni missiva di Evelina verso il suo benefattore riusciamo a percepire l' evoluzione caratteriale delle protagonista,giorno dopo giorno, non certo senza difficoltà o cadute.Con eleganza, schiettezza e lungimiranza, il lettore viene catturato nella vita di Evelina, nella sua crescita personale e in società sentendosi in empatia con la protagonista.Per tutti coloro che amano la letteratura inglese questo romanzo è imperdibile.Passerete delle ore piacevoli immergendovi in ambientazioni vittoriane.tra intrighi e sentimenti.

[ꕥ Ange_Lives_To_Read ꕥ · Rating 1 out of 5]

DNF. I gave this a good shot, hoping for a sublime Jane Austen-ish reading experience, since Fanny Burney was supposedly a big influence on her. But what this novel lacked in the charm and wit that characterize Austen's work, it made up for in volume - it seemed to be about 5 million pages long. I finally gave up at about the 2 million page mark.

It occurred to me while I was reading that if you lived in Burney's time, this was probably riveting stuff. But for modern audiences, it hasn't aged well.

[Ellery Adams]

I was excited to read this epistolary novel because Jane Austen was fan of Frances Burney, but Evelina didn't meet my expectations. The pace felt tedious (owing to lots of florid dialogue) and the characters lacked complexity. Lord Orville is too perfect (compare him to a flawed Mr. Darcy and he falls flat). Clement Willoughby is an obvious cad (unique the Sense and Sensibility Willoughby who is also a cad, but by expressing regret is worthy of sympathy). And while Evelina is a charming, kind-hearted, naive young woman and I enjoyed how Burney used her to satirize high society, our heroine's romance with Orville lacks the tension or doubt necessary to arrive at the kind of swoon-worthy ending achieved by Austen, Bronte, or Heyer.

[Kailey (Luminous Libro) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Evelina is a naive young lady, entering society for the first time. She has been raised and carefully educated in the country by her affectionate guardian, but now her rich relations begin to show an interest in her. Evelina travels to London where she meets a wide variety of people, not all of them exactly nice. Evelina finds herself in a kind of culture shock as she tries to navigate the different manners of high society in London, but her sweetness and good nature will always win her friends no matter where she goes.

There is also a conundrum surrounding Evelina's birth. Her father refuses to acknowledge her as his daughter, and her guardian is reluctant to pursue legal channels to fight for Evelina's birthright since it would subject Evelina to unpleasant publicity. But nothing in her life can be truly settled until Evelina can confront her father and come to terms with her own parentage.

The thing I love most about this book is the rich language. The book is written in an epistolary style, with most of the letters being from Evelina to her guardian. Every sentence is carefully constructed to tell us something about the character who is writing or speaking. We can tell a lot about the characters from the grace and decorum with which they speak, or the way that they carelessly joke around or insult others. In the middle of it all is Evelina herself, with her own voice describing all the people that she encounters.

This book is a very interesting exploration of class and education, since Evelina is first traveling with pleasant country people with simple good manners similar to herself; then she is staying with her grandmother and cousins who are uneducated, crass, and bad-mannered; and finally she visits with a high-born family who are just as rude as the low-born characters but with more imperious and haughty manners. No matter where she goes, people are rude and mean and sometimes downright dangerous in their intentions. But she also meets people who are kind and generous.

Evelina is at the center of a maelstrom of social expectations and norms. She has a clear sight that can discern what is good and true or what is vulgar and evil. She is not fooled or enticed by the glitter of society. She values what is virtuous and honest. While others might turn a blind eye to coarse behavior, thinking that it is only normal and still considered respectable, Evelina is justly shocked at the evil she finds out in the world, and longs to return to her quiet country life. Because she has such a simple innocence, she is able to see how absurd and excessive London society really is.

Of course, there are many young men who are enchanted with Evelina's beauty and soft manners. Sir Clement Willoughby plagues her with his ardent and dramatic (and obviously insincere) pronouncements of his love for her. Monsieur Du Bois shyly and awkwardly tries to court her. She is only embarrassed by their unwelcome attentions. But it is Lord Orville who treats her with respect and generosity; and in her letters to her guardian, Evelina speaks very highly of him, which her guardian takes a sure sign that some greater emotion is brewing for them both. I loved the sweet slow-burn romance between them! It's really adorable!

I took off one star because the middle of the plot seems to drag out with a lot of similar scenes where Evelina goes to some public event with her cousins, and is somehow separated from them and gets into difficulties with nasty people or some sort of embarrassing situation, and then she sees Lord Orville and is ashamed for him to see her in that situation. That same basic scene happens at least three times. Otherwise, it would have been a five star book.

Overall, this is a novel with many layers of social commentary, love story, coming of age, and family identity. A complete delight!

[Nicola · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was quite an unexpected delight. I generally find books from this era a little hard going; taken overall I enjoy them but the long winded and often oppressively religious and virtuous heroines can be a little trying to my patience at times. Evelina, the eponymous heroine, was a pleasant surprise. Yes, she was virtuous but she didn't make a parade of her virtue and didn't write a single line of poetry! I can't remember if she ever even fainted but I don't think that she did. What she did do was blush a whole lot as her inexperience in social situations in the books early stages landed her in some hot water and then her family and the embarrassing scrapes she frequently fell into continued the process as she became a little more worldly wise.

I could relate to Evelina so very well; an excited young girl, tasting the delights of society for the first time under the auspices of the kindly Mrs Mirvan, whose daughter became a great friend of Evelina's. I watched Evelina fall afoul of societies rules through ignorance with sympathy. Her shame being greatly heightened by the teasing from the men she offended by her gauche behaviour. Still she shouldn't feel too hardly done by as it was this cruelty (social cruelty) which first fixed the eye of Lord Orville upon her and he intervened with great courtesy to spare her the embarrassment and shame that he saw she was suffering under, thus marking him out to the eye of any remotely experienced reader, as the romantic interest that our sweet little Evelina is destined for.

Lord Orville was a little colourless to be honest. In contrast to the delightfully real Evelina he seemed mostly to consist of good manners, very well in their way, but I was hoping, as the book progressed, to see something of his personality under all those courtesies but I never really did.

Once Evelina found her footing a little more, another source of embarrassment was added by the addition of her grandmother (Madam Duval) and her very vulgar cousins. They were hilarious. The fights between the english hating Madam Duval and Evelina's french hating host, Captain Mirvan, were epic. Madam Duval, for all her pretensions of great learning was extremely credulous and fell victim to several of the Captains 'pranks'. Much though I disliked the women, the barbaric treatment she received at the hands of the Captain and his accomplice Sir Clement Willoughby, was extreme.

Sir Clement Willoughby was quite an interesting character, although obviously pretty thoroughly disreputable he certainly had more character than Lord Orville and I couldn't quite help thinking that it was a shame that Fanny Burney didn't put as much effort into developing Lord Orville that she did into Sir Clement Willoughby.

All in all a great book; I can certainly see why it was a favourite of Jane Austen's.