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Aurora Floyd
Like Lady Audley, Aurora is a beautiful young woman bigamously married and threatened with exposure by a blackmailer. But in Aurora Floyd, and in many of the novels written in imitation of it, bigamy is little more than a euphemism, a device to enable the heroine, and vicariously the reader, to enjoy the forbidden sweets of adultery without adulterous intentions.
294 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1863
51 people are currently reading
3060 people want to read
About the author
Mary Elizabeth Braddon
1,037 books381 followersMary Elizabeth Braddon was a British Victorian era popular novelist. She was an extremely prolific writer, producing some 75 novels with very inventive plots. The most famous one is her first novel, Lady Audley's Secret (1862), which won her recognition and fortune as well. The novel has been in print ever since, and has been dramatised and filmed several times.
Braddon also founded Belgravia Magazine (1866), which presented readers with serialized sensation novels, poems, travel narratives, and biographies, as well as essays on fashion, history, science. She also edited Temple Bar Magazine. Braddon's legacy is tied to the Sensation Fiction of the 1860s.
She is also the mother of novelist W.B. Maxwell.
Braddon also founded Belgravia Magazine (1866), which presented readers with serialized sensation novels, poems, travel narratives, and biographies, as well as essays on fashion, history, science. She also edited Temple Bar Magazine. Braddon's legacy is tied to the Sensation Fiction of the 1860s.
She is also the mother of novelist W.B. Maxwell.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 137 reviews
January 5, 2022
I have slightly mixed feelings on this one. I loved the writing, and the reading experience is great, but the ending fell a little flat for me, and there are certain elements of the plot that don't age very well.
July 5, 2018
Mary Elizabeth Braddon has been having something of a moment recently, on the back of the current interest in Victorian sensation fiction. Lady Audley’s Secret (1862), Aurora Floyd (1863), and The Doctor’s Wife (1864) have both recently been republished in critical editions, by Oxford World’s Classics, and Lady Audley’s Secret, in particular, seem to be going down a storm with readers, to judge by the record of Goodreads.
I’ve read two of Braddon’s novels now, Lady Audley, and Aurora Floyd, and I can see why people like her. She’s a slick, easy read in a page-turnerish manner; she has a nice, unstereotypical way with female characters; and her novels have the sociohistorical interest of other sensation novels—they give us a perspective on Victorian England that incorporates its seamier aspects, as well as its drawing-room side.
Having said all that, I must say I haven’t enjoyed my encounter with Braddon quite as much as a few other recent forays into lesser-known Victorian female novelists. I liked Ellen Wood’s East Lynne more as a work of sensation fiction than either Lady Audley or Aurora Floyd; and I was really quite excited by Margaret Oliphant, both in comic mode (Miss Marjoribanks) and in serious mode (Hester).
I also feel Braddon suffers, as a writer of sensation novels, by comparison with the great Wilke Collins, who enters similar thematic territory, but with a much freer and more wide-ranging and modern sensibility. I have been struck, recently, reading Collins, by how sympathetically he treats characters who are disabled, or penniless, or illegitimate, or otherwise “other” to the box-perfect, upper middle-class protagonists whom Victorian novelists so often invite us to love. Braddon has a character of Collins’s offbeat type in Aurora Floyd (the hunchbacked “softy”—in the sense of “soft in the head”— Yorkshire rustic Steeve [sic] Hargreaves); but she treats him in an “otherizing”—even demonizing—manner which made Collins even more impressive by contrast.
This, for me, detracted somewhat from the favorable impact of Braddon’s sympathetic treatment of her unconventional heroine, engaging as it is. I was very taken by the tomboyish, racing-fan Aurora, especially at the beginning of the novel, when she startles her conventionally-minded admirer Talbot Bulstrode by “lifting her eyes to his face and asking him the strangest question he had ever heard from girlish lips, ‘Do you know if Thunderbolt won the Leger?’” Towards the end of the novel, Aurora migrates back a little more into the weepy, fainty type of Victorian femininity, but her brief flicker is a lot of fun—probably enough, in fact, to entice me to complete my Braddon trilogy with The Doctor’s Wife.
I’ve read two of Braddon’s novels now, Lady Audley, and Aurora Floyd, and I can see why people like her. She’s a slick, easy read in a page-turnerish manner; she has a nice, unstereotypical way with female characters; and her novels have the sociohistorical interest of other sensation novels—they give us a perspective on Victorian England that incorporates its seamier aspects, as well as its drawing-room side.
Having said all that, I must say I haven’t enjoyed my encounter with Braddon quite as much as a few other recent forays into lesser-known Victorian female novelists. I liked Ellen Wood’s East Lynne more as a work of sensation fiction than either Lady Audley or Aurora Floyd; and I was really quite excited by Margaret Oliphant, both in comic mode (Miss Marjoribanks) and in serious mode (Hester).
I also feel Braddon suffers, as a writer of sensation novels, by comparison with the great Wilke Collins, who enters similar thematic territory, but with a much freer and more wide-ranging and modern sensibility. I have been struck, recently, reading Collins, by how sympathetically he treats characters who are disabled, or penniless, or illegitimate, or otherwise “other” to the box-perfect, upper middle-class protagonists whom Victorian novelists so often invite us to love. Braddon has a character of Collins’s offbeat type in Aurora Floyd (the hunchbacked “softy”—in the sense of “soft in the head”— Yorkshire rustic Steeve [sic] Hargreaves); but she treats him in an “otherizing”—even demonizing—manner which made Collins even more impressive by contrast.
This, for me, detracted somewhat from the favorable impact of Braddon’s sympathetic treatment of her unconventional heroine, engaging as it is. I was very taken by the tomboyish, racing-fan Aurora, especially at the beginning of the novel, when she startles her conventionally-minded admirer Talbot Bulstrode by “lifting her eyes to his face and asking him the strangest question he had ever heard from girlish lips, ‘Do you know if Thunderbolt won the Leger?’” Towards the end of the novel, Aurora migrates back a little more into the weepy, fainty type of Victorian femininity, but her brief flicker is a lot of fun—probably enough, in fact, to entice me to complete my Braddon trilogy with The Doctor’s Wife.
February 11, 2019
Long and drawn-out? Yes. Melodramatic? Of course! Over-the-top? Certainly. Escapist? Sure, but sometimes I need to escape, in the comfort of my own home.
This author spins a darn good yarn.
THE END
This author spins a darn good yarn.
THE END
April 12, 2020
Really enjoyed this story; wealth, bigamy, murder in Victorian England, what's not to enjoy. Perfect escapism.
October 29, 2023
I buddy read this with Chelsea from the BookTube channel Voyage of a Time Wanderer for Victober 2022, and we had so much fun going back and forth as we read this. 'Aurora Floyd' has some wonderfully vivid characters not least of which is the title character.
The book felt somewhat like it had two halves with the middle point being a marriage, though I won't say more than that. The first half is more character focused as we get to know the key players in the narrative. We also learn enough of Aurora's back story to know that there is a year of her life that is shrouded in mystery. The second half is more plot focused with the fall out of that mysterious year. The whole story moves at a brisk pace though and there is plenty of delightful Victorian melodrama if that's to your taste. I'm not much of a modern-day sensation follower, but give me a Victorian sensation novel, and somehow I'm hooked!
I loved that my favorite character in this ended up being a person I condescended to when we first meet him. He seems like a Bertie Wooster type with far more good-humored vacuity than moral seriousness, but his character changes in some moving ways. Another fun character has the impressively stodgy name of Talbot Bulstrode. He felt very much like a Mr. Darcy type character in some ways, and I liked his evolution in the story as well. There is also another spoilery male character I loved with some quite interesting appearances (and disappearances) in the novel!
I'd say there are three main female characters, one of whom Chelsea said is like Mrs. Danvers from Rebecca...enough said! She was truly awful. Aurora's cousin Lucy felt very much like one of Trollope's less engaging heroines to me, the silent sufferer who becomes an adoring husband worshipper. I thought her character had potential but it lacked dimension in the end. Aurora is a piece of work! She is the raven-haired, dark flashing-eye type heroine who I come across constantly in books but have never met in real life. She feels a little like Lizzie Eustace from Trollope's The Eustace Diamonds at times, but I like Aurora better because she does really want to do what is right and genuinely loves her father, her cousin, etc. She's a little too wildly passionate to ever be a favorite character for me, but her story is great fun to read.
Some of the mystery elements were a bit strange in that I found them easy to guess and yet the actual "reveal" for each was withheld for what felt like a longer-than-necessary time. Overall, this was such a fun Victober read and perfect for this misty, chilly time of year.
The book felt somewhat like it had two halves with the middle point being a marriage, though I won't say more than that. The first half is more character focused as we get to know the key players in the narrative. We also learn enough of Aurora's back story to know that there is a year of her life that is shrouded in mystery. The second half is more plot focused with the fall out of that mysterious year. The whole story moves at a brisk pace though and there is plenty of delightful Victorian melodrama if that's to your taste. I'm not much of a modern-day sensation follower, but give me a Victorian sensation novel, and somehow I'm hooked!
I loved that my favorite character in this ended up being a person I condescended to when we first meet him. He seems like a Bertie Wooster type with far more good-humored vacuity than moral seriousness, but his character changes in some moving ways. Another fun character has the impressively stodgy name of Talbot Bulstrode. He felt very much like a Mr. Darcy type character in some ways, and I liked his evolution in the story as well. There is also another spoilery male character I loved with some quite interesting appearances (and disappearances) in the novel!
I'd say there are three main female characters, one of whom Chelsea said is like Mrs. Danvers from Rebecca...enough said! She was truly awful. Aurora's cousin Lucy felt very much like one of Trollope's less engaging heroines to me, the silent sufferer who becomes an adoring husband worshipper. I thought her character had potential but it lacked dimension in the end. Aurora is a piece of work! She is the raven-haired, dark flashing-eye type heroine who I come across constantly in books but have never met in real life. She feels a little like Lizzie Eustace from Trollope's The Eustace Diamonds at times, but I like Aurora better because she does really want to do what is right and genuinely loves her father, her cousin, etc. She's a little too wildly passionate to ever be a favorite character for me, but her story is great fun to read.
Some of the mystery elements were a bit strange in that I found them easy to guess and yet the actual "reveal" for each was withheld for what felt like a longer-than-necessary time. Overall, this was such a fun Victober read and perfect for this misty, chilly time of year.
November 8, 2022
this novel went from domestic fiction featuring a love square to a murder mystery whodunit very quickly and i was kinda into it
October 4, 2020
”Captain Bulstrode had served in India, and had once tasted a horrible spirit called bang, which made the men who drank it half mad; and he could not help fancying that the beauty of this woman was like the strength of that alcoholic preparation; barbarous, intoxicating, dangerous and maddening…she lifted her eyes to his face and asked the strangest question he had ever heard from girlish lips.
“Do you know if Thunderbolt won the Leger?”
Aurora Floyd’s the spoiled, only child of wealthy, widower Archibald Floyd; the result of his scandalous marriage to a penniless actress. Adored by her father, Aurora grows up a renowned beauty, known locally as ‘fast’ for her unladylike habits - hunting and racing horses – she seems to possess boundless confidence. But after a spell at a French finishing-school, Aurora returns oddly changed, haggard, anxious, harbouring some terrible secret. Time passes, Aurora’s engaged to be married but her past threatens to ruin her chance of happiness.
Although it’s vividly drawn with a compelling plot this doesn’t reach the heights of Braddon’s brilliant Lady Audley’s Secret but it’s still richly rewarding. Realist with more than a dash of gothic melodrama, Braddon’s story incorporates all the markers of a classic ‘sensation’ novel: vengeful villains, thwarted lovers, buried transgressions resurfacing to disrupt the present, all manner of crimes and dastardly deeds. However, Braddon has a lighter touch than some of her fellow ‘sensation’ writers, so this is often wittier and less sombre than East Lynne or The Woman in White.
Aurora’s a magnificent creation, a refreshing departure from standard ideals of Victorian womanhood; flouting convention, passionate, generous, she’s basically a likeable version of Jane Eyre’s spirited Blanche Ingram. Aurora Floyd’s by no means flawless, the ending’s problematic, the representation of characters with disabilities sometimes made me deeply uncomfortable. Although admittedly these elements added another layer of interest, because of the way Aurora Floyd, like the earlier Jane Eyre and later Dracula, highlights tensions and questions around femininity, as well as the development and circulation of ideas linking certain bodies to criminality, deviance and/or that Victorian bugbear degeneracy.
“Do you know if Thunderbolt won the Leger?”
Aurora Floyd’s the spoiled, only child of wealthy, widower Archibald Floyd; the result of his scandalous marriage to a penniless actress. Adored by her father, Aurora grows up a renowned beauty, known locally as ‘fast’ for her unladylike habits - hunting and racing horses – she seems to possess boundless confidence. But after a spell at a French finishing-school, Aurora returns oddly changed, haggard, anxious, harbouring some terrible secret. Time passes, Aurora’s engaged to be married but her past threatens to ruin her chance of happiness.
Although it’s vividly drawn with a compelling plot this doesn’t reach the heights of Braddon’s brilliant Lady Audley’s Secret but it’s still richly rewarding. Realist with more than a dash of gothic melodrama, Braddon’s story incorporates all the markers of a classic ‘sensation’ novel: vengeful villains, thwarted lovers, buried transgressions resurfacing to disrupt the present, all manner of crimes and dastardly deeds. However, Braddon has a lighter touch than some of her fellow ‘sensation’ writers, so this is often wittier and less sombre than East Lynne or The Woman in White.
Aurora’s a magnificent creation, a refreshing departure from standard ideals of Victorian womanhood; flouting convention, passionate, generous, she’s basically a likeable version of Jane Eyre’s spirited Blanche Ingram. Aurora Floyd’s by no means flawless, the ending’s problematic, the representation of characters with disabilities sometimes made me deeply uncomfortable. Although admittedly these elements added another layer of interest, because of the way Aurora Floyd, like the earlier Jane Eyre and later Dracula, highlights tensions and questions around femininity, as well as the development and circulation of ideas linking certain bodies to criminality, deviance and/or that Victorian bugbear degeneracy.
November 1, 2021
After reading two Mary Elizabeth Braddon's novels in a short amount of time, I'm slowly falling in love with her. Aurora Floyd is definitely more humane and a lot more well-plotted than Lady Audley's Secret despite them both touching on same themes. We know Aurora's secret from the very beginning and as we get to know her and her past, I as a reader became so captivated and invested with her story. Braddon's writing is melodramatic and atmospheric and for a book 500 pages, I flew through it relatively quickly every time I picked it up and was captivated by the plot twists. Aurora Floyd manages to be both a mystery but also a great coming-of-age story of a young woman who is haunted by her past and bad decisions.
October 20, 2020
Another excellent Mary Elizabeth Braddon sensationalist novel, leaving enough space for the reader to speculate wildly on the wickedness of the heroine. I must admit that whilst the text is heavy with description, Braddon likes to subvert the concept of the ideal Victorian woman and make the women wonderfully flawed and human.
January 21, 2019
I read two others books by Mary Elizabeth Braddon, first The Doctor's Wife then Lady Audley's Secret. I really liked them both. The writing, the story, the main character. Braddon was a great Victorian author, who wrote sensation novels with non-typical female characters. I know this author suffers from the comparison to Wilkie Collins, both being sensation novelists in the 19th century. While I understand the inevitable comparison, I found both authors' work as interesting, with notable differences. I wish more people would forget this comparison for a while and give Braddon a chance, as she's definitely worth our time.
Aurora Floyd isn't a bad novel, but it suffered for me from the comparison to the two Braddon's novels I read before. I probably would have liked it more if it was my first experience with this author. However, it's still a good novel, hence the three stars rating, and if you haven't read yet the two others novels I mention at the beginning of this review, I definitely recommend them even if Aurora Floyd didn't quite catch your attention.
Aurora Floyd isn't a bad novel, but it suffered for me from the comparison to the two Braddon's novels I read before. I probably would have liked it more if it was my first experience with this author. However, it's still a good novel, hence the three stars rating, and if you haven't read yet the two others novels I mention at the beginning of this review, I definitely recommend them even if Aurora Floyd didn't quite catch your attention.
January 12, 2020
A little over a year ago, I joined a group of readers on bookstagram reading a victorian sensation novel every couple months. Lady Audley's Secret was one of my favorite reads last year and I enjoyed a collection of Mary Elizabeth Braddon's short stories last fall. So when the group decided to read Aurora Floyd this month, I was thrilled. I am happy to say that it did not disappoint. I just love Braddon's writing and she has quickly become one of my favorite victorian authors.
Aurora Floyd was fast paced and well written. I loved the characters, good and bad. At 459 pages (in the Oxford edition), it's not a short story, but I was so engrossed in the story that I didn't want to put it down. I had to keep reading to find out how everything played out. Some people have complained about the intrusive narrator, but I actually loved that element. It almost made it feel like I was sitting with Mary Elizabeth Braddon while she told me her tale.
Aurora Floyd was fast paced and well written. I loved the characters, good and bad. At 459 pages (in the Oxford edition), it's not a short story, but I was so engrossed in the story that I didn't want to put it down. I had to keep reading to find out how everything played out. Some people have complained about the intrusive narrator, but I actually loved that element. It almost made it feel like I was sitting with Mary Elizabeth Braddon while she told me her tale.
October 21, 2023
Finally done with Aurora Floyd. I enjoyed it pretty well at first, but the longer it went on the more the story dragged along. I almost DNF’d it halfway through. Lady Audley’s Secret was a lot more fun and full of crazy twists and turns than this sensation novel. The main sensation I experienced was boredom.
April 16, 2021
Aunque me ha gustado y me ha parecido muy entretenida en algunas partes se me hizo demasiado lenta y repetitiva.
La autora se detiene páginas y páginas para contar algo y le dices ya, Mary querida, me doy cuenta de la situación no hace falta que me describas una y otra vez lo que pasa. Se me hizo algo cansina.
Por lo demás está genial, me ha gustado mucho la trama, los personajes y la ambientación.
La autora se detiene páginas y páginas para contar algo y le dices ya, Mary querida, me doy cuenta de la situación no hace falta que me describas una y otra vez lo que pasa. Se me hizo algo cansina.
Por lo demás está genial, me ha gustado mucho la trama, los personajes y la ambientación.
October 17, 2012
I read Lady Audley´s Secret, an earlier book by Braddon, some time ago for another course. So I expected sort of the same when I started reading Aurora Floyd. This novel, however, has a different setup with a nosy narrator interfering every now and then to tell some life´s truth. Although the background and characters are worked out better, it doesn´t have the flow of Lady Audley, nor the dramatic conclusion. It´s a bit tame compared to its dashing predecessor, I´m afraid. I never really got to sympathise with any of the characters, partly due to the omniscient narrator that at times distances the reader from the narrative. All in all, it wasn´t a bad read, the story continues quite fluently and the secret Aurora carries with her is not as obvious as the one Lady Audley has. But if you have to pick one book to read from Mary Elizabeth Braddon, I´d advise Lady Audley´s Secret because it is a nicer read on the whole.
October 17, 2017
En general me lo he pasado muy bien leyendo esta historia, pero no recomiendo leerla por el misterio en sí, ya que éste es bastante previsible y fácil de averiguar. Recomiendo leerla porque el estilo de la autora es agradable, las descripciones de los ambientes acertadas y atmosféricas y la historia entretenida. También pprque es interesante conocer el estilo de una de la primera escritora de misterio de la época victoriana, admirada por Wilkie Collins y Henry James como exponente de un género hasta entonces reservado a los hombres.
No me ha gustado el tratamiento que se da al personaje del "idiota" pero entiendo que eran otros tiempos.
No me ha gustado el tratamiento que se da al personaje del "idiota" pero entiendo que eran otros tiempos.
January 13, 2022
Bewertung und Meinung beziehen sich auf die ersten 155 Seiten (dann Abbruch) :
Der Roman handelt von der UNGLAUBLICH anbetungswürdigen Aurora Floyd (soweit, so wenig überraschend). Auf den ersten 150 Seiten verlobt sie sich, entlobt sich, verlobt sich wieder und wird aus, der Leserin unbekannten Gründen, erpresst.
Der Teil mit der ominösen Erpressung ist das einzig interessante bis dato. Allerdings nimmt das nur ca. 2 Seiten ein in dem ganzen von mir gelesen Buchabschnitt. Die Verlobungsgeschichten könnten ja eine schöne Lovestory sein, wenn die Verliebtheit von irgendwem auch nur annähernd plausibel gemacht werden würde. Stattdessen wird die Verliebtheit von allen einfach von der Autorin behauptet, ohne jegliche Hinführung oder Erklärung:
Verlobter Nummer eins lernt Aurora auf einem Ball kennen. Sie reagiert kaum auf seine Ansprache, starrt in die Luft, stellt ihm plötzlich eine Frage ohne Zusammenhang und wirkt insgesamt recht debil in dieser Szene. Die Beziehung der beiden scheint sich von diesem Punkt an kaum weiter zu entwickeln, trotzdem verliebt er sich unsterblich. Genauso wie ein Nebenbuhler. Was an Aurora so großartig ist, abgesehen von ihrer Schönheit, bleibt unklar. Die Cousine der wundervollen Aurora wird als nahezu perfekt beschrieben: schön, klug, gebildet, emphatisch, aufopferungsvoll, man kann mit ihr angenehme Nachmittage verbringen. Aber die kommt natürlich nicht gegen Aurora an, wem leuchtet das nicht ein! Ich weiẞ schon, klar, kann es solche Konstellationen geben, aber die müssen mir bitte besser plausibel gemacht werden. Aurora ist übrigens auch unsterblich verliebt. Das lernen wir dann später auch noch, einfach weil die Autorin es uns sagt. Wer braucht schon einen kleinen Anhaltspunkt darauf in der Handlung?
Die Krönung des Ganzen sind dann holprige Sätze, zum Teil grammatikalisch falsch.
Die Übersetzung, bei der ordentlich gekürzt worden ist, scheint viel zur Problematik beizutragen. Ich habe das englische Original nicht ausprobiert, kann da also weiter nichts zu sagen. Von dieser übersetzten Ausgabe, die auch sprachlich mehr als zu wünschen übrig lässt, kann ich nur abraten.
Der Roman handelt von der UNGLAUBLICH anbetungswürdigen Aurora Floyd (soweit, so wenig überraschend). Auf den ersten 150 Seiten verlobt sie sich, entlobt sich, verlobt sich wieder und wird aus, der Leserin unbekannten Gründen, erpresst.
Der Teil mit der ominösen Erpressung ist das einzig interessante bis dato. Allerdings nimmt das nur ca. 2 Seiten ein in dem ganzen von mir gelesen Buchabschnitt. Die Verlobungsgeschichten könnten ja eine schöne Lovestory sein, wenn die Verliebtheit von irgendwem auch nur annähernd plausibel gemacht werden würde. Stattdessen wird die Verliebtheit von allen einfach von der Autorin behauptet, ohne jegliche Hinführung oder Erklärung:
Verlobter Nummer eins lernt Aurora auf einem Ball kennen. Sie reagiert kaum auf seine Ansprache, starrt in die Luft, stellt ihm plötzlich eine Frage ohne Zusammenhang und wirkt insgesamt recht debil in dieser Szene. Die Beziehung der beiden scheint sich von diesem Punkt an kaum weiter zu entwickeln, trotzdem verliebt er sich unsterblich. Genauso wie ein Nebenbuhler. Was an Aurora so großartig ist, abgesehen von ihrer Schönheit, bleibt unklar. Die Cousine der wundervollen Aurora wird als nahezu perfekt beschrieben: schön, klug, gebildet, emphatisch, aufopferungsvoll, man kann mit ihr angenehme Nachmittage verbringen. Aber die kommt natürlich nicht gegen Aurora an, wem leuchtet das nicht ein! Ich weiẞ schon, klar, kann es solche Konstellationen geben, aber die müssen mir bitte besser plausibel gemacht werden. Aurora ist übrigens auch unsterblich verliebt. Das lernen wir dann später auch noch, einfach weil die Autorin es uns sagt. Wer braucht schon einen kleinen Anhaltspunkt darauf in der Handlung?
Die Krönung des Ganzen sind dann holprige Sätze, zum Teil grammatikalisch falsch.
Die Übersetzung, bei der ordentlich gekürzt worden ist, scheint viel zur Problematik beizutragen. Ich habe das englische Original nicht ausprobiert, kann da also weiter nichts zu sagen. Von dieser übersetzten Ausgabe, die auch sprachlich mehr als zu wünschen übrig lässt, kann ich nur abraten.
May 22, 2017
Hasta más o menos la mitad, la historia, aunque lenta, va fluyendo y la lectura atrapa; pero hacia la mitad va decayendo hasta hacerse soporífera. De hecho me salté como 300 páginas y pasé directamente al final y tengo la sensación de que no me he perdido nada. Quiero probar con el otro libro de la autora, porque el estilo victoriano me ha gustado, sin embargo, la trama se me ha hecho pesada y eso que es bastante llamativa en un principio.
June 5, 2019
El libro está bien y es feminista y transgresor para su época. Pero durante más de media novela se enrolla mucho y avanza muy despacio, por eso me ha cansado un poco su lectura.
July 26, 2015
Aurora Floyd, by Mary Elizabeth Braddon, much like Lady Audley's Secret, is a novel that makes a clear and positive impression on the reader, not so much because they are similar to the big name authors of Victorian literature like Dickens, but because they are dissimilar. Dickens is my favourite author, but it is impossible to find a strong, powerful lead character who is female. Such is not the case with Braddon's Aurora Floyd.
Aurora is both a reflection of the proper Victorian heroine as she does faint and fret somewhat about household matters, but she is much more. While attractive like a good Victorian heroine, she is not perfect. Her physical beauty is the least important part of her character. She loves horses and rides as well as any man, she is more comfortable at a race course placing a bet than she is in the parlour doing crochet work. She is willing to travel on her own, is not above whipping a stable hand for mistreating her dog and has, of course, a deep secret that Dickens would shudder to give to Lucy Manette, Agnes Wakefield, Ester Summerson or Florence Dombey.
You will not find the depth or breadth of a Dickens novel in Aurora Floyd, and the grand passages of atmosphere, the fingernail biting bits of suspense and the panorama of characters are all muted in a Braddon novel. Nevertheless, her novels offer much to please the reader. The "just one more chapter" desire before dinner exists in Braddon as it does in Dickens.
In Aurora Floyd Braddon includes in the story the names of most major Victorian novelists, make constant reference to Shakespeare's Othello and Macbeth and too frequently addresses her readers in asides and instances of self-reflexivity. These incidences, while minor, were constant irritants. Unless their intention was to help ground and stabilize her structure, and give her novel more buoyancy, I am not certain of their necessity.
In any case, I found this novel a worthwhile read. The sensation novel's most well-known author is Wilkie Collins, but M.E. Braddon is worthwhile reading as well. Enjoy the second line of Victorian authors. There is much to celebrate.
Aurora is both a reflection of the proper Victorian heroine as she does faint and fret somewhat about household matters, but she is much more. While attractive like a good Victorian heroine, she is not perfect. Her physical beauty is the least important part of her character. She loves horses and rides as well as any man, she is more comfortable at a race course placing a bet than she is in the parlour doing crochet work. She is willing to travel on her own, is not above whipping a stable hand for mistreating her dog and has, of course, a deep secret that Dickens would shudder to give to Lucy Manette, Agnes Wakefield, Ester Summerson or Florence Dombey.
You will not find the depth or breadth of a Dickens novel in Aurora Floyd, and the grand passages of atmosphere, the fingernail biting bits of suspense and the panorama of characters are all muted in a Braddon novel. Nevertheless, her novels offer much to please the reader. The "just one more chapter" desire before dinner exists in Braddon as it does in Dickens.
In Aurora Floyd Braddon includes in the story the names of most major Victorian novelists, make constant reference to Shakespeare's Othello and Macbeth and too frequently addresses her readers in asides and instances of self-reflexivity. These incidences, while minor, were constant irritants. Unless their intention was to help ground and stabilize her structure, and give her novel more buoyancy, I am not certain of their necessity.
In any case, I found this novel a worthwhile read. The sensation novel's most well-known author is Wilkie Collins, but M.E. Braddon is worthwhile reading as well. Enjoy the second line of Victorian authors. There is much to celebrate.
May 2, 2010
This book was like a very gentle roller-coaster ride, with a grand finish at the end. The author admits, in several places within the book, that now would seem a good time to end the novel, but yet the story continues.
I do like that there was always a little more to the story, but the constant building up for small excitements got a bit old. There was something wonderfully sassy, however, about reading a book which would have been considered risque or scandalous, only 150 or so years ago. I imagine it was a book one would not want to have discovered by a husband or father during the Victorian times.
Perhaps some of what made the book fall flat was the relationship between Aurora and her husband. It seemed as though they ended up together a bit by default, and the love they ended up expressing to each other (at least on Aurora's part) somehow did not seem sincere. There was also the standard pairing of female characters, between Aurora as a head-strong, dangerous, seductive (and of course dark haired) vixen, and her cousin, the pure, innocent, demure (and of course blonde) perfect woman. I feel I have read too many books of late that revolve around this pairing.
I do like that there was always a little more to the story, but the constant building up for small excitements got a bit old. There was something wonderfully sassy, however, about reading a book which would have been considered risque or scandalous, only 150 or so years ago. I imagine it was a book one would not want to have discovered by a husband or father during the Victorian times.
Perhaps some of what made the book fall flat was the relationship between Aurora and her husband. It seemed as though they ended up together a bit by default, and the love they ended up expressing to each other (at least on Aurora's part) somehow did not seem sincere. There was also the standard pairing of female characters, between Aurora as a head-strong, dangerous, seductive (and of course dark haired) vixen, and her cousin, the pure, innocent, demure (and of course blonde) perfect woman. I feel I have read too many books of late that revolve around this pairing.
January 18, 2010
Published right after Lady Audley's Secret, Aurora Floyd was almost as popular. Aurora Floyd is a newlywed with a deadly secret, and although (like Lady Audley's) Aurora's secret is fairly easy to guess early on, that doesn't slow down the fast pace and drama of the novel. Braddon's novels are being heralded recently as challenges to the Victorian notion of ideal ladyhood, but in the other books of hers I've read, those unusual women receive suitable punishments for their violations of femininity; Aurora suffers but isn't punished as drastically as Lady Audley or Olivia Marchmont (of John Marchmont's Legacy) - a refreshing change.
November 5, 2019
A terrific read. Aurora Floyd is a spoiled restless heiress. with two eligible bachelors vying for her hand and a rich dowry to back her up Aurora's future seems assured. But when it comes to light she has a terrible secret, which of the men will pass the test and stand by her. Enjoyed this one.
November 25, 2023
Mary Elizabeth Braddon belongs to that particular cadre of writers: popular in their time, very prolific, had many bestsellers, and almost entirely forgotten today. That needs to change! She is fast becoming one of my favourite Victorian writers. She gives Wilkie Collins a run for his money.
This book is similar to Lady Audley’s Secret, in that it’s about a bigamous woman whose first husband returns to the estate. Drama ensues.
Yet it is also a total revamping. In Lady Audley’s Secret, the bigamous wife is unequivocally the femme fatale villain. Part of the tragedy is how this poor first husband was treated - although he’s no angel either, he definitely has better intentions than her.
In Aurora Floyd, we spend a lot more time with our titular bigamist. We get in her head. We understand her better. Braddon encourages empathy for her. And when this slimy, mercenary first husband turns up, HE’S the one we can’t stand! This makes the story more emotionally complex: Braddon emphasises that our eponymous, flawed heroine was simply a young girl who made a terrible mistake in her youth. Yet she’s paying the price for it dearly.
This book is also a better murder mystery: it’s got more twists and turns.
One of Braddon’s major themes - one that Agatha Christie adopted too - is the nature of marriage, and what makes a good marriage. She and Christie advocate for unions based on companionship and teamwork, rather than, necessarily, the most passionate affection. When describing Talbot Bulstrode, the man Aurora initially loves and who later marries her sister, Braddon uses this brilliant metaphor to summarise.
She loved [Talbot] as women only love in their first youth, and as they rarely love the men they ultimately marry. The tree is perhaps all the stronger when these first frail branches are lopped away to give place to strong and spreading arms, beneath which a husband and children may shelter.
As well as that passage, here are a couple more classic one-liners:
How many a grief has been bred of idleness and leisure!
Ah! How many a man is watched by loving eyes whose light he never sees! How many a man is cared for by a tender heart whose secret he never learns!
Could you ask for a better turn of phrase!?
Critics of this book may say that the ending is a tad rushed, or perhaps that the presentation of Stephen Hargreaves - a character with learning disabilities - is noticeably of its time. I don’t disagree!
But the book is phenomenal overall. 5 out of 5 stars.
This book is similar to Lady Audley’s Secret, in that it’s about a bigamous woman whose first husband returns to the estate. Drama ensues.
Yet it is also a total revamping. In Lady Audley’s Secret, the bigamous wife is unequivocally the femme fatale villain. Part of the tragedy is how this poor first husband was treated - although he’s no angel either, he definitely has better intentions than her.
In Aurora Floyd, we spend a lot more time with our titular bigamist. We get in her head. We understand her better. Braddon encourages empathy for her. And when this slimy, mercenary first husband turns up, HE’S the one we can’t stand! This makes the story more emotionally complex: Braddon emphasises that our eponymous, flawed heroine was simply a young girl who made a terrible mistake in her youth. Yet she’s paying the price for it dearly.
This book is also a better murder mystery: it’s got more twists and turns.
One of Braddon’s major themes - one that Agatha Christie adopted too - is the nature of marriage, and what makes a good marriage. She and Christie advocate for unions based on companionship and teamwork, rather than, necessarily, the most passionate affection. When describing Talbot Bulstrode, the man Aurora initially loves and who later marries her sister, Braddon uses this brilliant metaphor to summarise.
She loved [Talbot] as women only love in their first youth, and as they rarely love the men they ultimately marry. The tree is perhaps all the stronger when these first frail branches are lopped away to give place to strong and spreading arms, beneath which a husband and children may shelter.
As well as that passage, here are a couple more classic one-liners:
How many a grief has been bred of idleness and leisure!
Ah! How many a man is watched by loving eyes whose light he never sees! How many a man is cared for by a tender heart whose secret he never learns!
Could you ask for a better turn of phrase!?
Critics of this book may say that the ending is a tad rushed, or perhaps that the presentation of Stephen Hargreaves - a character with learning disabilities - is noticeably of its time. I don’t disagree!
But the book is phenomenal overall. 5 out of 5 stars.
July 8, 2025
Aurora Floyd es una novela victoriana apasionante que mezcla misterio, romance y secretos familiares. La historia sigue a Aurora, una joven heredera hermosa, inteligente y de carácter indomable, cuya vida aparentemente perfecta se ve amenazada por un oscuro secreto de su pasado. A medida que la trama avanza, se revelan intrigas, engaños y pasiones reprimidas, mientras Aurora lucha por proteger su reputación y su felicidad.
La novela tiene un tinte autobiográfico, pues Braddon, una de las reinas del sensation novel, vertió en Aurora parte de su propia experiencia como mujer independiente que desafió las convenciones sociales victorianas. La protagonista refleja la rebeldía y la lucha por la libertad personal que marcaron la vida de la autora.
Braddon, construye una atmósfera envolvente con giros inesperados y una crítica sutil a las normas sociales de la época. Es una obra que destaca por su protagonista compleja y por la tensión que mantiene al lector enganchado hasta la última página.
Quisiera dedicar una pequeñas palabras a la edición bellísima de la editorial DEpoca porque es simplemente maravillosa, con imágenes. La recomiendo muchísimo.
La novela tiene un tinte autobiográfico, pues Braddon, una de las reinas del sensation novel, vertió en Aurora parte de su propia experiencia como mujer independiente que desafió las convenciones sociales victorianas. La protagonista refleja la rebeldía y la lucha por la libertad personal que marcaron la vida de la autora.
Braddon, construye una atmósfera envolvente con giros inesperados y una crítica sutil a las normas sociales de la época. Es una obra que destaca por su protagonista compleja y por la tensión que mantiene al lector enganchado hasta la última página.
Quisiera dedicar una pequeñas palabras a la edición bellísima de la editorial DEpoca porque es simplemente maravillosa, con imágenes. La recomiendo muchísimo.
August 26, 2024
I really enjoyed this story, though it suffers from overly florid descriptions and lengthy explanations of thoughts and feelings-- typical for a book written during this period.
January 3, 2021
Les romans à suspens ne sont pas le genre de romans que j’aime, je m’explique : un secret ou un mystère révélé à la dernière page du roman m’agace. En tant que lectrice, je passe des heures de lectures dans l’ignorance du pourquoi et du comment de l’histoire. Les personnages agissent sans que je sache le pourquoi de leurs agissements. Je trouve cela sans intérêt. J’avais lu La Dame en Blanc de Wilkie Collins et cela m’avait fortement ennuyée. D’autant plus que chez lui, la psychologie et compréhension des personnages, des femmes surtout, n’était pas brillante.
Avec Aurora Floyd de Mary Elizabeth Braddon on est gâtées par sa compréhension de ses personnages, hommes comme femmes. L’auteure comprend comment ils fonctionnent et c’est un plaisir ! Ensuite, elle nous sert une belle analyse de la société, par petites touches discrètes mais ô combien révélatrices ! Et elle nous régale d’un humour fin et d’une belle écriture. Et enfin, si le secret est révélé aux deux tiers du roman, le suspense reste jusqu’à la fin du livre : sachant le secret, comment tous les personnages vont-ils réagir et se dépatouiller de la situation ? Le bien et l’amour vont-ils triompher d’autant plus qu’événements tragiques et rebondissements inextricables surviennent encore ?
Eh bien, je vais vous le dire… non mais sans blague, vous croyez vraiment que je vais vous le dire ?
William Thackeray, dont je n’ai lu que le trèèèès long Vanity Fair, dans lequel il montre son inexistante compréhension des femmes, dit de l’auteure Mary Elizabeth Braddon : "Si j’étais capable d’inventer des intrigues comme Miss Braddon, je serais le plus grand écrivain anglais." M. Thackeray, vous appelez cela un compliment ? Vous êtes bien un homme de votre temps ! Ce que vous auriez dû dire, c’est quelque chose comme : "Les intrigues de Miss Braddon font d’elle le plus grand écrivain anglais." Ah, mais que la supériorité d’une femme est inconcevable à certains hommes, à quasiment tous les hommes de l’époque de Mary Elizabeth Braddon ! Comme cela devait être frustrant pour des femmes brillantes comme l’auteure, de n’être qu’une femme qui écrit un roman comme on dirait d’elle qu’elle écrit sa liste de courses !
John Mellish a été heureux de sa naissance à ses trente-deux ans. Braddon le répète assez souvent. Insouciant, inconséquent, il a toujours vécu dans l’opulence, sans jamais avoir à s’inquiéter de choses matérielles ou immatérielles. Sa fortune est si grande, qu’il n’a pas besoin de tenir des comptes serrés pour l’économiser ou la faire perdurer. A-t-il eu des maîtresses avant de connaître Aurora ? ce n’est pas dit. Mais c’est plus que probable, Braddon ne dit pas non plus qu’il est niais. C’est un brave homme qui n’a jamais eu à se poser de question ni sur lui ni sur la vie. Sa vie est une évidence. Une pensée qui ne l’a jamais effleuré : se demander comment il se fait qu’il ait autant de privilèges : financiers (il a un immense domaine), naturels (il a une bonne santé et un physique correct) et, par-dessus tout, être un homme dans une société et un temps où les hommes sont au sommet de l’échelle sociale sans discussion possible.
John Mellish est à l’aise dans sa vie : il est né riche et propriétaire, de parents riches et propriétaire, il trouve cela tout à fait normal. Son intelligence moyenne l’empêche de s’en faire la remarque.
Aurora Floyd, bien que de richesse égale, évoluant dans la même société, est tout à fait différente. Son père est un riche banquier, certes, mais sa mère n’était qu’une actrice populaire, autrement dit, en tant que actrice de bas étage, venant d’un milieu pauvre, et femme, elle se trouvait au plus bas de l’échelle sociale. Aurora est belle, riche, intelligente, bonne, mais cela n’est pas une garantie de suivre le « droit chemin » que la société a tracé pour elle. D’une part parce qu’elle est, elle, Aurora, non pas une des représentantes de l’idéal de la femme tel que le souhaitent les hommes de sa société : douce, docile, future épouse et mère. D’autre part parce qu’elle a été élevée en liberté :
« Aurora, comme disait sa tante, avait grand besoin d’une personne accomplie et vigilante, qui aurait soin de discipliner cette plante pleine de sève qu’on avait laissée croître comme elle l’avait voulu depuis son enfance. Il fallait tailler le bel arbrisseau, l’émonder, l’attacher symétriquement aux murs de pierre de la société avec des clous cruels et des bandes de drap enchaînantes. »
Aurora n’est pas qu’une façade. Elle est une jeune femme qui a soif de vivre, d’expérimenter la vie. Et elle commet ce que la société appelle une erreur. C’était une erreur, mais pour elle seule. Elle s’en est d’ailleurs rendu compte très vite et s’en est éloignée. Elle en sera affectée toute sa vie dans sa chair et dans son cœur. N’est-ce pas suffisant ? Ce qui n’aurait dû être qu’une expérience de vie personnelle, devient un handicap à vie dans une société qui veut codifier, légiférer, dicter tous les actes privés jusqu’à ce qu’ils deviennent des blâmes entachant une vie entière. Pauvre Aurora qui s’accuse d’avoir commis une erreur alors qu’elle était de toute bonne foi et de tout bon cœur, qu’elle a été le jouet d’un misérable individu, et qu’elle a tenté de réparer ce qu’elle appelle sa faute, alors qu’elle n’a été que la victime. Comment une société peut-elle être si injuste qu’elle en vienne à blâmer une femme victime au lieu de son bourreau ?
Cette "erreur" aurait pu être commise par un John Mellish, un Talbot Bulstrode, leurs vies n’en auraient pas été entièrement affectées, elle leur auraient été pardonnée par la société, comme ce qu’elle est : une erreur de jeunesse, de jugement, une expérience de vie.
John Mellish est admirable. À mon avis, il représente ce que l’auteure Braddon aurait aimé que soient plus d’hommes de son vivant : son amour est sincère, touchant par qu’à la limite du pitoyable. Il accepte sa femme comme un cadeau immérité et surtout, il est compréhensif envers "son erreur" à tel point qu’il en rejette l’entière faute sur l’homme qui en est responsable.
Finalement, il me vient une petite idée : Mellish et Bulstrode, les deux personnages principaux masculins et bons ont des caractéristiques d’héroïnes féminines : ils sont capables d’un amour aveugle et inconditionnel d’amoureuse, ils sont compréhensifs et savent se remettre en question. C’est sans doute est-ce pour cela que je les ai aimés et que ça ne m’ait pas dérangée que les personnages féminins soient plus secondaires malgré le titre du livre ?
Avec Aurora Floyd de Mary Elizabeth Braddon on est gâtées par sa compréhension de ses personnages, hommes comme femmes. L’auteure comprend comment ils fonctionnent et c’est un plaisir ! Ensuite, elle nous sert une belle analyse de la société, par petites touches discrètes mais ô combien révélatrices ! Et elle nous régale d’un humour fin et d’une belle écriture. Et enfin, si le secret est révélé aux deux tiers du roman, le suspense reste jusqu’à la fin du livre : sachant le secret, comment tous les personnages vont-ils réagir et se dépatouiller de la situation ? Le bien et l’amour vont-ils triompher d’autant plus qu’événements tragiques et rebondissements inextricables surviennent encore ?
Eh bien, je vais vous le dire… non mais sans blague, vous croyez vraiment que je vais vous le dire ?
William Thackeray, dont je n’ai lu que le trèèèès long Vanity Fair, dans lequel il montre son inexistante compréhension des femmes, dit de l’auteure Mary Elizabeth Braddon : "Si j’étais capable d’inventer des intrigues comme Miss Braddon, je serais le plus grand écrivain anglais." M. Thackeray, vous appelez cela un compliment ? Vous êtes bien un homme de votre temps ! Ce que vous auriez dû dire, c’est quelque chose comme : "Les intrigues de Miss Braddon font d’elle le plus grand écrivain anglais." Ah, mais que la supériorité d’une femme est inconcevable à certains hommes, à quasiment tous les hommes de l’époque de Mary Elizabeth Braddon ! Comme cela devait être frustrant pour des femmes brillantes comme l’auteure, de n’être qu’une femme qui écrit un roman comme on dirait d’elle qu’elle écrit sa liste de courses !
John Mellish a été heureux de sa naissance à ses trente-deux ans. Braddon le répète assez souvent. Insouciant, inconséquent, il a toujours vécu dans l’opulence, sans jamais avoir à s’inquiéter de choses matérielles ou immatérielles. Sa fortune est si grande, qu’il n’a pas besoin de tenir des comptes serrés pour l’économiser ou la faire perdurer. A-t-il eu des maîtresses avant de connaître Aurora ? ce n’est pas dit. Mais c’est plus que probable, Braddon ne dit pas non plus qu’il est niais. C’est un brave homme qui n’a jamais eu à se poser de question ni sur lui ni sur la vie. Sa vie est une évidence. Une pensée qui ne l’a jamais effleuré : se demander comment il se fait qu’il ait autant de privilèges : financiers (il a un immense domaine), naturels (il a une bonne santé et un physique correct) et, par-dessus tout, être un homme dans une société et un temps où les hommes sont au sommet de l’échelle sociale sans discussion possible.
John Mellish est à l’aise dans sa vie : il est né riche et propriétaire, de parents riches et propriétaire, il trouve cela tout à fait normal. Son intelligence moyenne l’empêche de s’en faire la remarque.
Aurora Floyd, bien que de richesse égale, évoluant dans la même société, est tout à fait différente. Son père est un riche banquier, certes, mais sa mère n’était qu’une actrice populaire, autrement dit, en tant que actrice de bas étage, venant d’un milieu pauvre, et femme, elle se trouvait au plus bas de l’échelle sociale. Aurora est belle, riche, intelligente, bonne, mais cela n’est pas une garantie de suivre le « droit chemin » que la société a tracé pour elle. D’une part parce qu’elle est, elle, Aurora, non pas une des représentantes de l’idéal de la femme tel que le souhaitent les hommes de sa société : douce, docile, future épouse et mère. D’autre part parce qu’elle a été élevée en liberté :
« Aurora, comme disait sa tante, avait grand besoin d’une personne accomplie et vigilante, qui aurait soin de discipliner cette plante pleine de sève qu’on avait laissée croître comme elle l’avait voulu depuis son enfance. Il fallait tailler le bel arbrisseau, l’émonder, l’attacher symétriquement aux murs de pierre de la société avec des clous cruels et des bandes de drap enchaînantes. »
Aurora n’est pas qu’une façade. Elle est une jeune femme qui a soif de vivre, d’expérimenter la vie. Et elle commet ce que la société appelle une erreur. C’était une erreur, mais pour elle seule. Elle s’en est d’ailleurs rendu compte très vite et s’en est éloignée. Elle en sera affectée toute sa vie dans sa chair et dans son cœur. N’est-ce pas suffisant ? Ce qui n’aurait dû être qu’une expérience de vie personnelle, devient un handicap à vie dans une société qui veut codifier, légiférer, dicter tous les actes privés jusqu’à ce qu’ils deviennent des blâmes entachant une vie entière. Pauvre Aurora qui s’accuse d’avoir commis une erreur alors qu’elle était de toute bonne foi et de tout bon cœur, qu’elle a été le jouet d’un misérable individu, et qu’elle a tenté de réparer ce qu’elle appelle sa faute, alors qu’elle n’a été que la victime. Comment une société peut-elle être si injuste qu’elle en vienne à blâmer une femme victime au lieu de son bourreau ?
Cette "erreur" aurait pu être commise par un John Mellish, un Talbot Bulstrode, leurs vies n’en auraient pas été entièrement affectées, elle leur auraient été pardonnée par la société, comme ce qu’elle est : une erreur de jeunesse, de jugement, une expérience de vie.
John Mellish est admirable. À mon avis, il représente ce que l’auteure Braddon aurait aimé que soient plus d’hommes de son vivant : son amour est sincère, touchant par qu’à la limite du pitoyable. Il accepte sa femme comme un cadeau immérité et surtout, il est compréhensif envers "son erreur" à tel point qu’il en rejette l’entière faute sur l’homme qui en est responsable.
Finalement, il me vient une petite idée : Mellish et Bulstrode, les deux personnages principaux masculins et bons ont des caractéristiques d’héroïnes féminines : ils sont capables d’un amour aveugle et inconditionnel d’amoureuse, ils sont compréhensifs et savent se remettre en question. C’est sans doute est-ce pour cela que je les ai aimés et que ça ne m’ait pas dérangée que les personnages féminins soient plus secondaires malgré le titre du livre ?
March 6, 2014
From the introduction by Jennifer Uglow, Canterbury 1983: When sensation novels burst upon a quiescent England these novels became immediate best sellers, surpassing all previous book sales records. However, high brow critics writing in academic journals of the day decried the phenomenon and criticized its practitioners (and readers) in the harshest terms. The added noriety derived from reading the novels probably served only to contribute to their popularity.
Wanda has prompted me to find and read this; previously unplucked from Mt TBR due to the font size, however I shall take a run at it...
Opening: Faint streaks of crimson glimmer here and there amidst the darkness of the Kentish woods. Autumn's red finger has been lightly laid upon the foliage - sparingly, as the artist puts the brighter tints into his picture: but the grandeur of an August sunset blazes upon the peaceful landscape, and lights all into glory.
3* - Lady Audley's Secret (1862)
Wanda has prompted me to find and read this; previously unplucked from Mt TBR due to the font size, however I shall take a run at it...
Opening: Faint streaks of crimson glimmer here and there amidst the darkness of the Kentish woods. Autumn's red finger has been lightly laid upon the foliage - sparingly, as the artist puts the brighter tints into his picture: but the grandeur of an August sunset blazes upon the peaceful landscape, and lights all into glory.
3* - Lady Audley's Secret (1862)
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 5, 2017
My impressions here,
http://carmenyamigos.blogspot.com.es/...
http://carmenyamigos.blogspot.com.es/...
February 8, 2018
You can't go wrong with a Mary Elizabeth Braddon novel.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 137 reviews