What Maisie Knew

by Henry James

At first, Maisie didn't know much — she was only six years old when her mother and father divorced. Her embittered parents shared custody, using the child as a pawn in their struggles. Neglected and exploited, Maisie shuttled back and forth between their homes. The things she saw and overheard, as her elders re-married and conducted adulterous affairs, hastened her growth from early childhood to a precocious maturity.
Rather than offering a gloomy tale of innocence corrupted, What Maisie Knew abounds in dark humor and savage wit. Henry James takes particular aim at the mores of the English upper classes in his tale of a sensitive little girl and her spirited reaction to irresponsible, self-absorbed adults. Written in an era when divorce was far less common than it is today, this 1897 novel is strikingly modern in its subject and narrative voice.

Genres: Classics, Fiction, 19th Century, Literature, American, Novels, Classic Literature

256 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1897

About the author

Henry James was an American-British author. He is regarded as a key transitional figure between literary realism and literary modernism, and is considered by many to be among the greatest novelists in the English language. He was the son of Henry James Sr. and the brother of philosopher and psychologist William James and diarist Alice James.
He is best known for his novels dealing with the social and marital interplay between émigré Americans, the English, and continental Europeans, such as The Portrait of a Lady. His later works, such as The Ambassadors, The Wings of the Dove and The Golden Bowl were increasingly experimental. In describing the internal states of mind and social dynamics of his characters, James often wrote in a style in which ambiguous or contradictory motives and impressions were overlaid or juxtaposed in the discussion of a character's psyche. For their unique ambiguity, as well as for other aspects of their composition, his late works have been compared to Impressionist painting.
His novella The Turn of the Screw has garnered a reputation as the most analysed and ambiguous ghost story in the English language and remains his most widely adapted work in other media. He wrote other highly regarded ghost stories, such as "The Jolly Corner".
James published articles and books of criticism, travel, biography, autobiography, and plays. Born in the United States, James largely relocated to Europe as a young man, and eventually settled in England, becoming a British citizen in 1915, a year before his death. James was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1911, 1912, and 1916. Jorge Luis Borges said "I have visited some literatures of East and West; I have compiled an encyclopedic compendium of fantastic literature; I have translated Kafka, Melville, and Bloy; I know of no stranger work than that of Henry James."

Reviews

[Fergus, Weaver of Autistic Webs · Rating 4 out of 5]

Henry James is a heuristic writer. Know what I mean?

In other words, he remained throughout his life a Seeker. The overarching priority of Being over Becoming meant little to him, as a truth he could hold on to.

So, impelled by his own tumultuous and impetuous cravings - the cravings that comprised his inner Daemon - he was driven “down, down - to a sunless sea:” the world of deep and dangerous introspection...

Tonight, after re-dipping deeply into Henry James’ convoluted introspections in this novel again - the first time in fifty years, for I read it once academically - I’ve come to the sad conclusion that his late novels can be toxic to postmodern souls.

In fact, tonight, for this reason I’ve resolved never to attempt another of his later novels again.

Oh, I know I have a fascination for his lucidly moody interior rambles, and I know they’re addictive to me, like a hypnotic subject’s fascination with whirlpools - but that’s the long and the short of it, and this time I’m going to try to stick to my guns.

Happens every time I read James. You mosey through a paysage moralisé of profound aperçus, and before you know it, you’re hooked - but guess what? - you’re going down the drain.

Fast.

I do, anyway.

I lose my connection with the Primacy of Being too readily when I read James. Without absolutes, we risk finding ourselves being quickly set adrift in a depressive and restive ocean of ethical relativism.

As is always the case with James.

It’s like a mariner in a storm who loses track of where he is without the North Star. But James was so exclusively self-possessed he could do it, as long as he kept his Daemon relentlessly seeking through our modern age’s refuse for answers. Give it up, Henry - it’s only Junk!

But if you’re a seeker, you will search to the end.

And if you DO find your Pot of Gold, you’ll be content.

Your life will have PURPOSE.
***

But anyway, James is now passé: for now, we can’t sustain a restive introspection in our postmodern age. Media, education and conditioning have directed our gaze firmly outwards. So we turn to our books.

They’re escapes from too much reality.

The answer is Within.

So many of us read as long as we have a firm idea of who we are and where we’re going - as I do - but when we enter Henry James’ late labyrinths, we lose our connective touchstones.

Or at least I do. I guess that’s the experimental, transitional side of his modernism. It leads you “to an overwhelming question”:

Where, precisely, are you GOING with all this, Henry?

You’re almost sickly and cloying in your introspection, but with all your moral relativism we become deceived into believing there’s fresh air in it all.

There ain’t. It’s totally disconnected with exterior social reality and, as well, with any absolute reference point.

There seemed to be fresh air, finally, in The Ambassadors. Again, that threw me for a loop!

Turns out, of course, it’s a False Dawn at the darkest point of the night.

Yes, folks, read Henry James and, as Jim Morrison sang, you:

“Take the highway to the end of the night!”
***

Some people can still read the late novels of Henry James:

But not cantankerous me -

I just say: thank heaven some among us are “assured of certain certainties!”

So would you please pass me my Plutarch?

[Paul Bryant · Rating 5 out of 5]

Well, I told myself to review more of my 5 star books instead of taking the easy way out projectile sneering at some grisly two star efforts. but it's hard. There are some brilliant Henry James reviews dotted around, and this won't be one of those. I think there's a point in some of these long, long literary careers (it's true of long musical careers too) where you've followed the writer out of the early period into the majestic middle period and you know the late period is going to give you a migraine, and there are a couple of books in the middle period in which everything comes right, the focus, the point of it all (what's he actually on about? Ah yes, I see!!) and for me What Maisie Knew is HJ gambolling and turning handsprings and summersets in the brilliant July sunshine before the dementia of subjunctive clausitis set in for good and they took him away and you could only see him on Tuesday afternoons and then only if you didn't speak. So sad. Give the old fellow a bun and some typewriter ribbon.

HJ had this filtered-point-of-view thing, he banged on about that for his entire career, and here he filters viciousness through innocence, Maisie's rebarbative parents and their sophisticated internecine wars conducted through the medium of their little daughter's hapless life. It's brilliantly upsetting, much more so than any number of Dickens' pathetic put-upon Little Dorrits and Little Olivers and Little Miss Dombeys. Not to badmouth Dickens, you can't, it's actually illegal, but you don't go to CD for psychological finesse, you come to Henry James.

In my humble opinion you can stuff your Portrait of a Lady, that one's an unaccountably popular turkey. What Maisie Knew is second only to The Turn of the Screw in the HJ all time Top Ten, and that's just the simple truth.

[Fionnuala]

*
A wise old child lived among strange folk
The more she saw, the less she spoke,
The less she spoke, the more she cried,
What's to become of that wise old child?

**
Maisie, Maisie, sharp yet hazy,
How does your garden grow?
With jam suppers and boiled beef,
And pretty ladies all in a row.

***
There was a fine lady who had a girl child.
She had so many lovers, she didn't hear when she cried.
She gave her some broth without any bread,
Then whipped her right soundly and sent her to bed.

****
Hush-a-bye Maisie, on the house top
When the storm blows, the timbers will rock
When the glass breaks, the nurs'ry will fall
And down will fall Maisie, nursemaid and all.

*****
To father's, to father's, to see a fat pig,
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
To mother's, to mother's, to see a fat hog,
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.

******
Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful of wry,
Four and twenty lovers stewing in a pie.
When the pie is opened the lovers all are spied,
Isn't that a dainty dish to set before a child.

Father's in the gaming house, losing all his money,
Mother's in the parlour, feeding men with honey,
Maisie's in the garden, trying not to say a word,
When down swoops a lover and scoops her off abroad.

*******
This is the story that James built.
This is the trap that lay in the story that James built.

This is the rat that sprung the trap,
That lay in the story that James built.

This is the cat that chased the rat that sprung the trap,
That lay in the story that James built.

This is the dog that worried the cat,
That chased the rat that sprung the trap,
That lay in the story that James built.

This is the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog that worried the cat,
That chased the rat that sprung the trap,
That lay in the story that James built.

This is the maiden all forlorn,
That loved the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog that worried the cat,
That chased the rat that sprung the trap,
That lay in the story that James built.

This is the man all shiny and shorn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That loved the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog that worried the cat,
That chased the rat that sprung the trap,
That lay in the story that James built.

....…………………………………………………
Loveless marriage is the trap, the father is the the rat, the mother, the cat, the step-mother, the dog, the governess with the crumpled hat, the cow: their constant chasing and harrying of each other will force me to quit this book at the half-way mark unless the shiny step-father who kissed the maiden all forlorn carries through on his many promises soonish...
……………….…………………………
Edit twenty-four hours later: I decided to read on...and the only thing of note is that Maisie has found a sixpence! Sixpences really for the forty-eight hours that followed seemed to abound in her life..
…………………………………………
Further edit: The shiny step-father left, the step-mother arrived, then the step-father returned and the governess is about to leave again.
Here we go around the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush,
Here we go round the mulberry bush, on a sad and miserable morning.

What hope for the little maiden all forlorn..
…………………………………………
Later edit: maybe some hope:

Maisie put the kettle on,
Maisie put the kettle on,
Maisie put the kettle on,
We'll all have tea...
………………………… ……………
22/02/2017

Maisie take it off again,
Maisie take it off again,
Maisie take it off again,
They've all gone away!

………………………………………

Rub, adub, dub,
Two left in the tub,
And who do you think they be?
One cow with a crumpled horn,
One maiden all forlorn,
And both of them gone to sea.

[Luís · Rating 3 out of 5]

What Maisie Knew is the story of the breakup of an English couple, seen through the eyes of their little girl, Maisie, who is the victim.
The starting point is a divorce, a child, and a remarriage. The reader knows of events only what Maisie perceives, but with our adult interpretation, we know more things since we can interpret the signs observed by Maisie.
Maisie reflects with serenity on the adventures of her parents and in-laws. According to Andre Gide, Henry James is a "virtuose"; this novel is "a technical tour de force, almost unequaled in the history of the novel: the dramas of a group of adults are reconstructed there without other materials than the childish values."

[Ellie Hamilton · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was very structurally unhinged and gloomy but boy he can write! Maisie was a bold essence form of character
This went up from a 3 star at th start to a 5 so quickly!

[Richard Derus · Rating 3 out of 5]

Book Circle Reads 43

Rating: 3.75* of five

The Publisher Says: What Maisie Knew (1897) represents one of James's finest reflections on the rites of passage from wonder to knowledge, and the question of their finality. The child of violently divorced parents, Maisie Farange opens her eyes on a distinctly modern world. Mothers and fathers keep changing their partners and names, while she herself becomes the pretext for all sorts of adult sexual intrigue.

In this classic tale of the death of childhood, there is a savage comedy that owes much to Dickens. But for his portrayal of the child's capacity for intelligent wonder, James summons all the subtlety he devotes elsewhere to his most celebrated adult protagonists. Neglected and exploited by everyone around her, Maisie inspires James to dwell with extraordinary acuteness on the things that may pass between adult and child. In addition to a new introduction, this edition of the novel offers particularly detailed notes, bibliography, and a list of variant readings.

My Review: Ida and Beale Farange, Maisie's parents, resemble Winter and Dick Derus, my own parents, very very closely. When I read this book in 1996, I was smacked in the teeth by the eerie similarities between the parenting styles of the adults. I'm still a widge unnerved by it. I am completely certain my father's never read the book since I've never ever seen or heard tell of him reading a novel, and I'm pretty confident that my mother wouldn't have read it, being as she was a thoroughgoing anti-Victorian in her reading preferences.

But it's as if they absorbed it from the aether and used it as a how-to manual. Poor Maisie!

My opinion of the book, then, is strongly colored by the coincidence of its resemblance to my own life. I rate it and respond to it based on that resonance; but that would, all other things being equal, put this much closer to five stars than I rate it here.

I've cut a star off because I, unlike most of the professional critics who have discussed the book, find the long ending section set in Maisie's teenaged years (or so we all think, it's never made explicit) unconvincing and a lot too long to be anything but hamfistedly didactic and tendentious. Maisie faces a decision that no child should have to face and she handles it with an aplomb that I found convincing...for a while...because it was so clearly prefigured in the adults who surrounded her behaving so badly. But James was a moralist, and he grafted his Moral Point onto the logical, inevitable ruminations Maisie goes through to make her horrible decision, and ends up crashing the narrative car into the brick wall of Conviction.

I do so hate that.

The 2012 film gets 4* from me for its delicately handled updating, faithful to the spirit of the story but violent with its specifics. They are separate experiences; no way could the film have occurred in quite this way without the book but the book hasn't been tossed aside lightly. Well and truly ADAPTED for the screen not simply "they filmed the book."

[Steve · Rating 5 out of 5]

Years ago, I read somewhere, perhaps in Graves' Goodbye to All of That, or a biography on Ford Madox Ford, where it was recorded (a tricky word if it's Graves) that Ford, while out in the trenches, read and greatly admired Henry James' What Maisie Knew. What stuck in my mind was the fact that Ford (as I remember it) thought it a great treatment of evil and children. Ford, a quirky but fine critic, could be a critical bear when it came to James, so the fact that he singled this novel out for praise certainly raised a hopeful flag for me. Up to that time, I just assumed that Evil and Children and James = The Turn of the Screw. That's still true, but the fact is that it's Evil with (in my opinion) a supernatural element. Maisie has nothing that goes bump in the night (unless it's one of the incredible parade of adulterous adults), but it's bleak picture of human corruption goes into more identifiable areas of darkness than the famous ghost story.

As the novel opens, Beale and Ida Farange are getting divorced. It's been a nasty affair, and floating between them is their only child, Maisie. Neither parent really wants her, and I believe she's between four and six years of age at the time. What follows is the passing back and forth between the parents of the child. She becomes a pawn for the eventual step parents, the new Mrs. Beale and the new Mr. Ida (Sir Claude) as well as the old fuddy dud governess, Mrs. Wix (who herself has a silly crush on Sir Claude). At the start this is somewhat comical, but in the back of your mind you keep asking yourself, What about the child? And it's good to keep asking yourself that question, because it provides a sure anchor just in case you're losing count of the adulteries. In the last quarter of the book, things take a much darker turn. The original Beale is off to America with an ugly rich woman, and Ida, Mama, is batty as hell. Masks are dropped, sex is in the air, and there is a rather long and amazing confrontation at the end that has the gravity of a theological debate. This isn't boring, I assure you. Maisie, who to my mind is somewhere around 11 to 13 at this point (and there is some debate about her age), has, unlike so many Dickens heroes, been corrupted to some extent by all that she has had to live through. (How could she not?) The one good figure, Mrs. Wix (and she herself is a mixed bag), argues strongly for the "moral sense," and it's need to be maintained. (And she is sincere.) Maisie's cruelty, just now starting to show itself, will surprise you. What will be her choice? The end is ambiguous, but powerful. This novel invites a number of different interpretations, and would probably be a great candidate for a book club reading.

[Duane Parker · Rating 4 out of 5]

How to describe this book; different, unusual, even disturbing on some level. Young Maisie Farange has, possibly, the two worst parents in the history of literature, Dickens characters notwithstanding. Her two step parents, from opposite sides of the parental marriages, were somewhat better, but still lacking from my point of view. Her governess, Mrs. Wix, was the most responsible adult in the book, certainly the best one to have custody of Maisie. I would like to read about Maisie as an adult, see her rise above her childhood, find love and happiness. To bad that never occurred to James.

If you read the reviews here on Goodreads, you see everything from 1 star to 5 star ratings. Really, that's true with every book, but I can understand it with this one. James, known for his lengthy thoughts and descriptions, uses those to distraction here. Some sentenses were so long that I lost the train of thought. Nevertheless, the final result is a story that grabs your attention, one that every reader can relate to to some extent. The characters, likeable or not, are beautifully crafted by James and taken as a whole, I liked this book.

4 solid stars

[Kuszma · Rating 4 out of 5]

Maisie tudja, hogy ha egy pszichologizáló hajlamú író kezébe kerül, akkor az nem lesz tekintettel éveinek csekély számára: kifilézi irgalom nélkül. Úgyhogy a kislány egy véresen megharcolt válás középpontjában találja magát, ahol a két szülő - Henry James kedves metaforájával - úgy ütögeti át egymás térfelére szegény gyereket, mint valami tollaslabdát. És mellesleg szorgalmasan oltják be mérgükkel, hátha ezzel megmérgezik a másikat is. Mit mondjak, talán ennyiből sejthető, Maisie szülei kábé annyira alkalmasak egy gyermek felnevelésére, mint amennyire a Publio kiadó könyvek korrektúrázására.

James nagy ötlete, hogy a válás nagy háborúját, ezt az adok-kapokot, ami az új és új szövetségesek bevonásával egyre inkább elfajul, alulról, a gyerek szemszögéből mutatja be. Valahogy olyan az egész, mint azok a hadtudományi művek, ahol a történész a katonák emlékeiből, személyes tapasztalataiból rekonstruálja az eseményeket: nincs átfogó kép, magyarázat, inkább csak villanások és sejtések, amelyek a szemlélő szubjektív szűrőjén keresztül jutnak el az olvasóhoz. Maisie pedig tökéletes szemlélő: gondolkodása bár gyermeki, de gyorsan tanul, naivitása pedig jó adag ravaszsággal párosul. Lehet, eleinte ő az egér a macskák között. De ahogy nézem, nemsokára majd kushadnak előtte a cicusok.

[MJ Nicholls]

Spiralling into an end-of-summer reading and viewing slump, where my otherwise robust capacity for studied appreciation snaps into tethersnapping irritation. This novel abandonment preceded a narked abandonment of Bèla Tarr’s Werckmeister Harmonies, one of those tedious, lugubrious, Romanian black and white arthouse films that make people hate arthouse films, and cineastes consider life-changing masterpieces kissed by Yahweh. It seems that others found What Maisie Knew as unappealing as me, with the bizarre cast of mamas, papas, stepmamas, steppapas, and the lovers of stepmamas and steppapas, all revolving round a poor little bore with the fortitude of a tardigrade. The prose is weapons-grade James, all exhausting longueurs and microscopic detail, which is tremendous when the reader cares. In this case, shoot me. Read up to Ch.21. [P.S. If you recommend Bèla Tarr’s seven-hour Satantango I will hurt you].

[Rosemary · Rating 4 out of 5]

When I saw that this book was about a young girl whose parents divorce and both remarry, and how she is shuttled between the various adults that have some reponsibility for her, I wondered why it wasn't in the Ultimate Teen Book Guide in place of 'Daisy Miller'. But the reason for that became clear as soon as I started reading it.

The language is very difficult, with sentences that go on for line after line without ever arriving at an obvious meaning. I was often getting to the end of a paragraph and thinking, "Huh?" It was like reading a book in a foreign language where you understand the individual words, but cannot always make sense of the sentences. You hope the next sentence will make everything clear - but it doesn't. I mean sentences like this:

"The case was indeed that the quality of [Mrs Wix's] motive surpassed the sharpness of her angles; both the combination and the singularity of which things, when in the afternoon they used the carriage, Maisie could borrow from the contemplative hush of their grandeur the freedom to feel to the utmost."

The idea of using language like that to present a child's point of view is bizarre, but it had the effect that I had as much trouble as Maisie understanding what was going on emotionally with the various parents and step-parents, although for a different reason. I think that must have been deliberate on James's part because it gets easier as the book progresses (and as Maisie gets older). I don't think we are ever told how old she is, but the plot must span several years. The final section, set across the Channel in Boulogne, is wonderful. So in the end I have given it 4 stars although at the beginning it sometimes had me wanting to throw the book across the room.

[Kate · Rating 1 out of 5]

I hate Henry James with an eternal and fiery passion. I rarely hate a book utterly; I hate this book. It's actually worse than The Bostonians, which I would not have imagined possible. It's just not necessary to write sentences two hundred words long with four semicolons and eight commas. It's just not. Especially not EVERY sentence.

It's like reading an impossibly uninteresting Jane Austen novel that's been babelfished into German and then back. I could only read it for ten minutes at a time, because otherwise the headache it induced became unbearable. Learn to sentence, Henry James.

[Marc Lamot · Rating 3 out of 5]

“She still had room for wonder at what Maisie knew.” There are others, but they are rare: novels in which the last sentence is the most important one, not in the sense of the denouement of an exciting story (because it does not do that at all in this story), but in the sense that it offers the key to read all that has gone before. Here, Henry James himself reveals how we should view this novel: through the eyes of a little girl (Maisie) who barely understands what is happening around her, but somehow grasps what is going on, in a way that keeps on eluding us. We can see her registering everything with wide eyes and alert ears (especially the lies and hypocrisy of the adults), being very impressionable and whimsically shifting her loyalty depending on the person she has in front of her, gradually becoming aware of her ability to bend people to her will with her charms, and, like everyone else, above all seeking attention, security and love. And, yes, James described this all in such a way that, as a reader, even in the end you keep stuck with the question: what, for heaven's sake, DID she knew or understand?

Precisely because Maisie (as a child) is an unreliable narrator, James succeeds in bringing the story's constant twists and turns to a successful conclusion. In my edition there was an introduction that briefly summarizes what happens in this novel, and I must say that it immediately made me dizzy, it felt almost like a soap opera. And well, of course, it IS a soap, perhaps even an entertaining one, at least if you forget that Maisie is a child who is the victim of what we now call an acrimonious divorce.

I am not the first to see the connection with the next work James wrote next, The Turn of the Screw (1898): here too we are dealing with an unreliable narrator (albeit a somewhat older lady) who constantly misleads us. Maisie seems much more innocent, although you start to doubt that as the story progresses. In that sense, 'What Maisie Knew' is also a masterful exercise in 'turning' and keeping the reader in the dark.

But then there is James's style, and here too I unfortunately have to be unoriginal: it is so mannerist, so deliberately artificial, that it drives you crazy. I must admit that I was often frustrated by the complicated sentence structures and the pompous style. But at the same time I also see James' technical mastery in using this way of describing things: it surely adds to the sense of confusion, but the reverse side is that it often spoils the reading pleasure, at least in my case. That's why this wasn't such a succes to me as The Portrait of a Lady was.

[Tony · Rating 2 out of 5]

My real life reading friends and I - a scant five of us - have, at my suggestion, and since 2014, attempted an annual group reading project (book, theme or author). That first year was Thomas Mann's Doctor Faustus. In 2015, we pledged to read novels about WWI by authors from the participant countries. Last year was Anthony Trollope. For reasons you could guess as easily as I can, one of the five of us (not me), at the end of each year, has not read any book in the project. The rest of us have all felt rewarded.

It has devolved upon me, or I have taken it upon myself, to be the one to offer suggestions for the coming year. This year I offered: 'The Stories of Flannery O'Connor', any novel of Nabokov that is not 'Lolita', Zola. . . . (but no one jumped, so, I swallowed hard and timidly said). . . .Henry James?

They jumped. Well, one guy jumped and the rest followed. So..., this being the good ol' U.S. of A., a democracy kind of, and the election results being in, like it or not. . . . this is my year of reading Henry James.

The plot of this'un, first of all, was typically Victorian in that societal class matters more than actual virtue, much is hidden, and no one has an actual job. Maisie's parents - (we hardly know them) - have as little to do with Maisie as they can, divorce, quickly meet new partners, which partners find their way to each other, leaving the parents to find new partners and, ahem, a convenient exit. Maisie goes to whomever will have her, except her father's 'brown' girlfriend. . . . she won't go there. Yes, ridiculous.

Most negative reviews wave a white flag at James' writing style. I get that. There are sentences - meandering, comma-splattered, jealously refusing to yield to the next - which made me want to throw them at his tombstone and shout, "HEY, YOU! In English, please!"

Oh, what an election.

[Evripidis Gousiaris · Rating 4 out of 5]

Δύσκολα αφήνεις το συγκεκριμένο βιβλίο από τα χέρια σου. Νιώθεις ότι αν το κάνεις θα προδώσεις και εσύ την μικρή Μέιζι όπως οι γονείς της.

[Patrizia · Rating 3 out of 5]

Una storia contorta, che rivela il mondo degli adulti attraverso gli occhi di una bambina, Maisie, che ascolta, vede e soprattutto capisce più di quanto si potrebbe immaginare.
Usata come arma contro l’altro dai due genitori, si ritrova in situazioni ambigue, contesa da figure che si legano a lei per non meglio definiti interessi. Dopo aver fatto del silenzio il modo per districarsi in mezzo ai litigi degli adulti, si trova a fare una scelta decisiva per il proprio destino.
Il romanzo mi ha tenuta incollata fino all’ultimo, come mi accade sempre con Henry James, ma l’ho trovato oscuro e complesso, a tratti addirittura sgradevole.

[Alexander Carmele · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ausgefeilte ästhetische Widerspruchsstruktur. Lektüremäßige Berg- und Talfahrt.

Inhalt: 2/5 Sterne (langweilige Scheidungskindgeschichte)
Form: 4/5 Sterne (konventionell-sicher, aber dröge)
Erzählstimme: 5/5 Sterne (glaubwürdige Ich-Erzähler-Spekulation)
Komposition: 5/5 Sterne (ausgefeilte Form-Inhalt-Dialektik)
Leseerlebnis: 2/5 Sterne (während des Lesens -3, nachher +5)

Was Maisie wusste erschien 1897 und gehört in die späte Mittelphase von Henry James‘ literarischem Werk. Maisie, die Hauptfigur, ist ein kleines Kind im Alter von sechs Jahren, dessen Eltern sich in einer Art Rosenkrieg voneinander scheiden lassen. Dort beginnt der Roman, nämlich mit der Entscheidung, dass Maisie abwechselnd bei dem Vater und der Mutter leben soll:

»Und, mein Engelschatz, hat dir dein ekelhafter Papa eine Botschaft für deine liebe Mama mitgegeben?« Und in diesem Augenblick geschah es, dass ihr die von ihrem ekelhaften Papa gesprochenen Worte erneut in ihren kleinen, verwirrten Ohren klangen, von wo aus sie, auf das Begehr ihrer Mutter hin, schnurstracks zu ihren kleinen unschuldigen Lippen und in ihre klare, durchdringende Stimme wanderten. »Er sagte, ich soll dir von ihm ausrichten«, gab sie wortgetreu wieder, »dass du eine hundsgemeine Drecksau bist.«

Henry James hält meist, im Gegensatz zum Zitat, hinterm Berg. Sein Humor schillert zwischen den Zeilen hindurch, von ganz weit her, und zwar so still und sanft, dass es ein Leichtes ist, ihn zu überlesen. Der Inhalt stellt eine öde Tristesse dar. Erwachsene reden auf Maisie ein. Maisie versteht nicht viel, aber genug, um zu verstehen, dass es nicht wirklich um sie geht, dennoch versucht sie nach Verstandeskräften mitzuhalten:

»Du bist frei – du bist frei«, fügte Sir Claude hinzu, und Maisies Rücken erfuhr sogleich einen aus Ärger und Groll geborenen Stoß, der sie wieder in die Mitte des Raumes taumeln ließ, wo sie die Blicke aller Anwesenden auf sich zog und nicht wusste, wohin sie sich wenden sollte.
Sie nahm sich zusammen und wandte sich an Mrs Wix. »Ich habe es nicht abgelehnt, dich aufzugeben. Ich sagte, ich würde es tun, wenn er –!«
»Mrs Beale aufgeben würde?«, brach es aus Mrs Wix heraus.
»Mrs Beale aufgeben würde. Wie kann man so etwas anders als edel nennen?«, wollte Sir Claude von allen wissen, die erwähnte Dame eingeschlossen, und er sprach jetzt mit einer solchen Begeisterung, als wäre gerade ein großartiges Kunst- oder Naturprodukt in ihrer Mitte abgestellt worden.

Die Heucheleien der Erwachsenenfiguren lassen sich kaum ertragen. Der Plot zieht sich zäh, aber was Henry James‘ Was Maisie wusste antreibt, ist die zugrundeliegende ästhetische Widerspruchsstruktur, die gegen die Ödnis und Tristesse des Inhalts mit vehementer Aufmerksamkeitsmonomanie glänzt, auch aus den bescheidensten Situation ein Maximum an Intensität schöpfen zu wollen. Besonders zum Ende wird die ganze ästhetische Anlage, die Schreibform von James klar. Sie emergiert von alleine und gibt einen seltsamen Zauber, der im Nachhinein schimmernd über dem Text liegt, denn: Plötzlich hat Maisie gelebt, und ihr Wissen, ja, ihr Wissen bleibt ein Geheimnis wie sie, wie vielleicht Leben überhaupt. Mysteriös, versponnen, idiosynkratisch, eine Tortur und zugleich dennoch ein literarisches Erlebnis. Ziemlich unvergleichbar, vielleicht mit Gustave Flauberts Madame Bovary durch seine Exzentrik.

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Details – ab hier Spoilergefahr (zur Erinnerung für mich):
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Inhalt: Hauptfigur ist Maisie Farange. Am Anfang des Romans sechs Jahre alt, zum Zeitpunkt der Scheidung ihrer Eltern, Mr Beale und Ida. Sie streiten um Maisie und um Geld. Es wird entschieden, dass sie halbjährig beim Vater, dann bei der Mutter weilt. Bald heiraten diese aber wieder: die Mutter einen gewissen Claude; der Vater Miss Overmore, ihre Gouvernante, später genannt Mrs Beale. Die beiden Eltern führen aber auch keine gute zweite Ehe, u.a. auch deshalb weil Mrs Beale und Claude Interesse aneinander zeigen. Die Ehen gehen nach und nach in die Brüche. Die Mutter hat Affären, u.a. mit Hr Perriam, einem Lord Eric und einem Captain. Der Vater liiert sich mit einer farbigen amerikanischen Komtess. Problem überall das Geld. Faktisch kümmern sich die leiblichen Eltern nicht um Maisie, sondern Claude und Mrs Beale, sowie die Gouvernante im Hause der Mutter Mrs Wix, die ebenfalls in Claude vernarrt ist. Der eigentliche Plot lautet: wie Maisie von einem zum anderen Haushalt gereicht, wieder abgegeben wird, unter allerhand Vorwänden, und wie sie in keinem der Erwachsenen, außer in Mrs Wix, eine verlässliche Bezugsperson findet. Alle ziehen sie in ihr Ränkespiel, verstoßen sie wieder, machen Versprechungen, die sie wieder brechen. Am Ende nimmt Claude sie mit nach Frankreich, dort stößt Mrs Wix zu ihnen, gesandt von Ida, und bald holt Claude Mrs Beale nach Nordfrankreich. Es kommt zum großen Finale. Claude und Mrs Beale entziehen sich Maisie und überlassen sie Mrs Wix, die im Grunde aber gar nicht die Mittel hat, sie anständig intellektuell zu erziehen, noch finanziell zu unterstützen. Der Plot pendelt also in London, Brighton hin und her, an die Küste, nach Frankreich und dann wieder zurück. Eigentlicher Inhalt ist das langsame Erwachen von Maisie und ihr Weg, mit der Desillusion über die Erwachsenenwelt fertig zu werden.
… die Eifersüchteleien, die Ränkespiele, die Unaufrichtigkeiten sind teilweise kaum zu ertragen; das Ausweichen, Nicht-Sprechen, das Nur-Andeuten macht die Lektüre zu einer, inhaltlich gesehenen, riesigen Schaumschlägerei. Oft bleibt unklar, was passiert ist. Interesse lässt sich inhaltlich schwierig dafür aufbringen, dass Claude, oder Mrs Beale, vorgeben, Maisie sehen zu wollen, dabei wollen sie sich nur gegenseitig sehen und miteinander beschäftigen.
… der Plot besitzt keine Dynamik, am Ende, ganz kurz vor Schluss, in Frankreich passieren intensive Szenen im Hotel, zwischen Mrs Wix und Maisie, und auch zwischen Claude und Maisie, deshalb noch … (trotz gähnender Langeweile) … --> 2 Sterne

Form: Lange, wohlgerundete Sätze, die leider ihren Gegenstand umschleichen wie eine Katze den heißen Brei. Es bedarf sehr viel Aufmerksamkeit, Konzentration, nur oft, um am Ende mit leeren Händen dazustehen, denn das „etwas“ bleibt ein „das“, auf das sich alles bezieht, ein „Es“, das unbestimmt stehengelassen wird. Dennoch bilden die Sätze eine Einheit, einen Bewusstseinsfluss ab. Reiche Anspielungen, wenig Hilfsverben, klassischer Sprachstil, gerundet, gedeichselt, geschraubt, etwas snobistisch, gewollt, etwas verstaubt gehoben, aber im Rhythmus und in der Wortmelodie über jeden Zweifel erhaben.
…. keine 5 Sterne, da zu konventionell, zu sehr am Sprachideal geklebt, wenig Freiraum, wenig Poesie. --> 4 Sterne

Erzählstimme: Famose Reflektorbeschränkung. Ein Ich-Erzähler, der sich vier- oder fünfmal zu Wort meldet, berichtet aus Sicht Maisie über diese diversen Misshelligkeit ihrer Familie und Wahlfamilie. Die Erzählstimmenbeschränkung geht auf. Er ist ein glaubwürdiger Ich-Erzähler, der sich keinen wirklichen Reim auf die Wirklichkeit Maisies machen kann, der abschätzt, sich ein Innenleben vorstellt, und in diesem Versuch empathisch, interessiert wirkt. Maisie wird lebendig. Sie wird ein Figur. Sie beginnt zu leben, hin und her geschoben wie ein Gegenstand, trifft sie ein wohlwollender Blick, der klar auf ihrer Seite steht. Hiermit erscheint eine große Solidarität, die scharf von anderen Figuren kontrastiert wird mit ihrer Ignoranz. Ein formales Mittel, das den langweiligen Inhalt ästhetisch umschlagen lässt in Dramatik, die sich am Ende hin erst darbietet. --> 5+ Sterne

Komposition: Erzählstimme und Inhalt gehen eine dialektische Widerspruchsstruktur ein, die sich gegenseitig beleben, aufheben, weitertragen, im Konflikt stehenbleiben, aber im Stillstand kreisend eine psychische Dynamik der Figur Maisie ergeben. Unfassbar gelungen, die Langeweile des Inhalts, die Tortur der Wiederholung des Immergleichen mit fesselnder Aufmerksamkeit zu durchdringen, sodass die Details immer klarer hervortreten, nämlich wie Maisie in dieser Welt zu überleben gedenkt. --> 5 Sterne

[Issicratea · Rating 4 out of 5]

What Maisie Knew is an exquisite, highly polished artifact, in a way that reminded me of The Spoils of Poynton, another of my favourite James novels. I was interested to see, after finishing the novel, that these two works were published back-to-back in 1897. Both feature tortuous, even brutal, family relationships—the stuff of tabloids—transmuted into beauty through James’s ethereal, allusive style.

In the case of Maisie, the novel’s chief subject is the havoc wreaked on children by acrimonious divorces: a theme that gives it a curious air of modernity. Immediately after finishing it, I watched a 2012 film adaptation starring Julianne Moore, which transposes the story to a modern New York setting—a successful adaptation in many ways, although I was struck by the relative sentimentality of the modern version and its less ambiguous and dark moral tone. The film also brought home to me how isolated James’s Maisie is, as the sole child in an unfathomable adult world, to an extent that would be unthinkable today.

I read Maisie in an excellent Penguin Classics edition with a very good introduction by Christopher Ricks, and some intriguing supplementary material, such as a brief anthology of contemporary reviews of the novel, and extracts from James’s notebooks illustrating the genesis of the work. I was struck, in the latter, by James’s epiphany—several months after beginning to think through the plot of the novel, in August 1893—that “my point of view, my line [will be] the consciousness, the dim, sweet, wondering, clinging, perception of the child.” This is, indeed, the entire key to the novel’s success, that it is filtered through Maisie’s groping, emerging, touchingly needy consciousness. It is what gives the novel its characteristic dramatic irony. I love that James uses an image from the visual arts, in talking of this as a "line."

Maisie doesn’t quite thematize material and artistic beauty in the same metaliterary way as Poynton, in which a collection of ravishing antiques plays a central role in the plot. There is one very striking scene, though, where the young central figure, Maisie, is ravished by the bric-à-brac in the salon of her father’s American mistress, “the Countess.” The relation between viewer and objects is ironic here, as the Countess and what she represents is anything but beautiful, within the economy of the novel, at least. Maisie is acutely alive to physical beauty, and very swayed by it—notably, the beauty of her quasi-parents, “Sir Claude” and “Mrs Beale” (as Ricks observes, naming practices are notably oblique in this novel—we never learn Miss Overmore / Mrs Beale’s other name). Maisie often gets things wrong, though—or fascinatingly half-wrong. She is an utterly unreliable narrator, through no fault of her own.

Even taking Maisie’s blurred focalization into account, it’s hard for the modern reader not to be disturbed by the figure of the Countess as racial other. She is first seen in the text, alongside Maisie’s father, coming out of a pleasure-ground side show at Earl’s Court, called “Flowers of the Forest,” featuring “a large presentment of bright brown ladies” (“brown all over,” it is specified, in case we were wondering what kind of spectacle this was). Maisie initially wonders whether the Countess—similarly “brown,” and wearing a resplendent scarlet plume in her hat—might have been “one of the Flowers” herself. Given this introduction, the persistent association of the Countess with moneyed vulgarity and moral ugliness is uncomfortable (I couldn’t see anything in the text to undercut or nuance this reading). I was reminded a little—and not in a good way—of the West Indian heiress, Miss Swarz, in Thackeray’s Vanity Fair.

This detail nagged away at me, and it detracted from my overall pleasure in the novel—a shame, when there is so much to like. The characterization is quite superb, with special mention for the charming, weak, vacillating Sir Claude and the sublime Mrs Wix, Maisie’s frumpy, devoted governess—in a way the true heroine of the novel, or at least its tragicomic moral core.

[Έλσα · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Τι ήξερε η Μέιζι "

Ο απόλυτος ψυχογράφος!! Ένα μυθιστόρημα που τονίζει τις ανθρώπινες συμπεριφορές κ διαφορές.
Μέσα σε 400 σελίδες καταφέρνει, μέσω του ταλέντου του, να παρουσιάσει άρτια όλους τους χαρακτήρες.

Η Μέιζι είναι μια 5χρονη κοπέλα που βιώνει, θα μπορούσαμε να πούμε, κωμικοτραγικές καταστάσεις λόγω των γονιών της. Οι γονείς της αποφασίζουν να πάρουν διαζύγιο. Αυτό αποτελεί το έναυσμα μιας τραγικής και ψυχοφθόρας εξέλιξης για το παιδί.

Αν κ είναι μικρή αντιμετωπίζει τα περιστατικά με ωριμότητα, λογική, ηρεμία και σύνεση. Ο περίγυρός της διέπεται από φαυλότητα, απληστία και ψευτιά χαρακτηριστικά που δεν την αγγίζουν ούτε επηρεάζουν την ψυχοσύνθεσή της. Αντίθετα, τη δυναμώνουν κ της προσδίδουν έντονα στοιχεία ώστε να αποκτήσει ολοκληρωμένη προσωπικότητα. Αυτός είναι κ ο βασικός στόχος του συγγραφέα, να εντείνει τη διαφορετικότητα μεταξύ των ηρώων.

Η Μέιζι από θύμα, έρμαιο κ "μπαλάκι" , μια κ κάθε 6 μήνες αλλάζει τόπο διαμονής μένοντας μια με τη μάνα κ μια με τον πατέρα, μετατρέπεται σε ώριμη γυναίκα, αποκτώντας υπόσταση. Διακατέχεται από αγάπη κ αγνά συναισθήματα παρόλο που ο κύκλος της προσπαθεί με κάθε τρόπο να την εκμεταλλευτεί.

Μια ωδή στην παιδική ψυχή!!!

[Captain Sir Roddy, R.N. (Ret.) · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the annals of classic fiction I have encountered some truly monstrous parents (some of the parents in Austen or Dickens certainly come to mind), but the mother and father of little Maisie Farange must surely be the worst. They are truly beyond despicable, and if I could reach into the pages of Henry James's What Maisie Knew, I'd throttle them both! Okay, now that I've gotten that off of my chest, perhaps I can provide an objective review of this novel. What Maisie Knew was written by Henry James in 1897, while he was still living in London.

The structure of this sophisticated novel is extraordinarily clever, as the entire plot is laid out from the perspective of the little girl, Maisie (and keep the title of the novel in mind as you read too). The novel starts off with the parents being granted a divorce and the court awarding that custody of Maisie will be shared. This poor little girl has to spend six months with her father and then be packed off for six months with her mother. What is even worse is that the parents use Maisie in their on-going fight-to-the-death with one another; at the same time they take on new spouses (and then immediately begin adulterous relationships!). And while Maisie is wise beyond her years and quite perceptive to what is going on around her in the world of the grown-ups that she is surrounded by, much of what she observes has to be interpreted through the lens of the experience of her own childhood and the little bit of love and kindness bestowed upon her from a scant few of the adults--but not her own parents--around her.

Through the course of the novel Maisie does gravitate to the two characters that do seem offer her the hope and opportunity of kindness, love, and some semblance of stability, and those two characters are her governess, Mrs Wix, and her mother's second ex-husband Sir Claude. Sir Claude has his own 'bag-of-issues' to deal with, but he is really and truly genuinely concerned about Maisie and her long-term welfare. He ends being more of father-figure to the little girl, by a long-shot, than her own father did on his very best day. Ultimately, these two people, whom Maisie trusts with her heart and soul, do end up making the right decisions that give this little girl a chance for a wholesome life.

Finally, it needs to be said that there's much in this novel that can offend modern sensibilities, particularly when it comes to how children are looked after (or not), guardianship issues, or even the exercise of parental responsibilities (or not!). The reader needs to remember that there weren't governmental agencies like 'Child Protective Services' in Victorian England to provide that safety net for children in Maisie's situation. Henry James, like Charles Dickens before him, seems to have been much affected by child welfare issues, and I have to think he was trying to make a point here that parental responsibility is a duty and an obligation and that love and a nurturing stable environment are what every child needs and deserves. As painful as it was to read, I'm glad that I read What Maisie Knew, and look forward to reading it again in the future. At this point, I would give this 3.5 stars out of five.

But I still want to reach into the pages of this novel and throttle both of her parents!

[Alexander Theofanidis · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ο κύριος και η κυρία Φάραντζ, παίρνουν διαζύγιο. Κι ενώ θα μπορούσαν να συνεχίσουν ανέμελοι τις ζωές τους, έχουν κάτι (ένα κοριτσάκι, τη Μέιζι) που τους κρατάει ακόμη ενωμένους, όπως το παπούτσι με το οδόστρωμα, λόγω μιας τσίχλας. Για μεγάλη δυσφορία και του υποδήματος και του οδοστρώματος. Και κανείς δε ρωτάει και την τσίχλα.

Η Μέιζι, γίνεται αντικείμενο. Διαπραγμάτευσης και μείωσης, μέσο επικοινωνίας χολωμένων ανθρώπων, δοχείο για τη χολή και τα φτηνότερα των συναισθημάτων που επιδεικνύουν οι άνθρωποι σε αυτές τις περιπτώσεις.

Και το μόνο που θέλει Μέιζι είναι αγάπη και κατανόηση.

Αντ' αυτά, μπλέκει σε ένα παρανοϊκό γαϊτανάκι με γκόμενες και γκόμενους των γονέων, ουσιαστικά ένα παιχνίδι στα χέρια όλων, παριστάνοντας λίγο τη χαζή, ενώ καταλαβαίνει πρακτικά τα πάντα και ερχόμενη πιο κοντά στις γκουβερνάντες που αφειδώς τής πληρώνουν για να μην ασχολούνται οι ίδιοι μαζί της. Ποιοι ίδιοι; Ο πατέρας της, η μάνα της, η γκόμενα του πατέρα της, ο γκόμενος της μάνας της και γκόμενες και γκόμενοι που προκύπτουν στη συνέχεια, μέχρι που κάποια στιγμή φτάνει να έχει εγκαταληφθεί στα χέρια ενός ζεύγους που έχει προκύψει από γκομενιλίκια των γονιών της: ΝΑΙ, Η ΜΕΪΖΙ ΚΑΤΑΛΗΓΕΙ ΜΕ ΜΙΑ ΓΚΟΜΕΝΑ ΤΟΥ ΜΠΑΜΠΑ ΚΑΙ ΕΝΑ ΓΚΟΜΕΝΟ ΤΗΣ ΜΑΜΑΣ.

Χαριτωμένο και σχετικά μεστό αν αναλογιστεί κανείς πόσο φλύαρα έτειναν να είναι τα βιβλία της εποχής, αναδεικνύει από το παρελθόν ένα διαχρονικό πρόβλημα: τα παιδιά ως... οτιδήποτε άλλο εκτός από παιδιά για τους γονείς.

Η Μέιζι ξέρει πολλά, αυτό δε σημαίνει και ότι α) έπρεπε να τα μάθει β) είναι ευτυχισμένη μπαίνοντας στην εφηβεία της

[Marisol · Rating 5 out of 5]

Maisie es una niña de 6 años, que después del divorcio de sus padres descubre muchas verdades difíciles de digerir, entre ellas que no la quieren.

“el único vínculo que la unía con cada uno de sus progenitores era esta deplorable circunstancia de que ella fuera un recipiente muy a propósito para la amargura, una honda tacita de porcelana donde podrían mezclarse ácidos corrosivos.”

Todos los adultos que rodean a Maisie tienen en común el egoísmo, el cinismo y la vanidad, por lo que ella se ve obligada a pretender todo el tiempo ser alguien que no es, en defensa propia, a callar, a mentir o a hablar según las señales que el adulto en cuestión emita.

Mediante una narrativa lenta, que al principio puede ser monótona pero que conforme avanza nos atrapa, Henry James nos muestra lo patético del mundo adulto, visto por los ojos de una niña, sin enjuiciar, o usar adjetivos, vamos descubriendo las contradicciones, las falsedades, los engaños, las mentiras, todo aquello que rodea las relaciones humanas.

¿Qué sabe Maisie, después de todo?

Sabe que su padre y su madre no la quieren.
Sabe que está sola en el mundo.
Sabe que la vida cuesta, que es una carga onerosa, que no merece institutrices preparadas, ni escuelas, ni una casa.
Sabe que no puede decir la verdad, nunca, que siempre debe decir lo que los adultos quieren escuchar, o en su defecto poner cara de estúpida.
Sabe que si alguien quiere hacerse cargo de ella, es porque algún beneficio obtendrá esa persona.
Sabe que los adultos mienten siempre.

[None Ofyourbusiness Loves Israel · Rating 4 out of 5]

The first time I read "What Maisie Knew," I felt like I'd stumbled into something raw and uncomfortable—a story that peels back the polite veneer of family life like a too-tight bandage. Henry James doesn't just tell a story; he drops you into the mind of a child caught in an emotional hurricane, and suddenly you're seeing the world through eyes that are both devastatingly innocent and frighteningly aware.

Maisie Farange is something else. She's not your typical child protagonist—all wide-eyed and helpless. She's more like a quiet observer, collecting fragments of adult mess like someone gathering broken glass. Her parents are walking disasters, using her as a battlefield for their own bitter divorce. They're so wrapped up in their own drama that Maisie becomes nothing more than a messenger, a pawn, a blank slate for their anger.

What gets me is how James captures that moment when a child realizes the adults around her are fundamentally broken. There's this gut-punch of a line where Maisie understands that the only thing connecting her to her parents is their ability to pour bitterness into her. Can you imagine? Being so young and already knowing that your parents see you as a vessel for their poison?

The real magic happens in how Maisie adapts. She develops an incredible internal armor—learning to watch, to understand, to protect herself. When James writes about her developing "a new feeling, the feeling of danger," I get chills. It's like watching a small animal learn to survive in a landscape of emotional predators.

Her stepparents drift in and out of affairs, her guardians trade her like a playing card, and through it all, Maisie just... observes. She collects "images and echoes" like some kind of emotional archaeologist, piecing together the wreckage of adult relationships. And the crazy part? She's not destroyed by it. She's strengthened.

There's this moment when Maisie simply says, "I know what I know." It's not defiance, exactly. It's something deeper—a quiet recognition that she understands more than anyone wants her to. James is showing us how childhood isn't about innocence, but about a kind of brutal clarity that adults have forgotten how to see.

By the end, Maisie becomes this incredible witness. She sees how "everybody was grossly muddled," how people take everything for granted without really looking. It's like she's developed x-ray vision for human bullshit, and she's not even a teenager yet.

I've read this book several times now, and each time, it hits differently. I absolutely adore how it undresses the lies we tell ourselves about family, about love, about what it means to grow up. James knew something profound about how our minds and souls survive—how we persevere and create ourselves in the midst of chaos.

[Lisa of Troy]

According to The American Novel Since 1945 (Lecture 22), this book is told in a free indirect discourse through the consciousness of a child in an aristocractic family. Professor Hungerford says that the narrative is extremely confusing (but it would be a good example while studying various types of narrative).

[David · Rating 3 out of 5]

Over the years, critics have pointed out that it isn't entirely clear exactly what Maisie knew. She intuits a lot. She learns to recognize when grown ups are being untruthful. She understands the importance of appearing ignorant or remaining silent when being grilled for information best held in confidence. And she accepts that her parents and step-parents are selfish, amoral, and unreliable, if also often predictably so.

Perhaps what Maisie knew - and that James himself may not have at the time - is that her story is the final draft en route to the novella that would soon come after this novel, and which is superior in every way.

"...but Mrs. Wix, ...her feet were firm in the schoolroom. They could not be loosened by force: she would 'leave' for the police perhaps, but she wouldn't leave for mere outrage. That would be to play her ladyship's game, and it would take another turn of the screw to make her desert her darling."

Mrs. Wix contains both Mrs. Gross and (toward the end of this book) The Governess. Maisie, although resourceful and moderately untouchable like Flora, exhibits the charm and precociousness of Miles. Mrs. Beale (nee Overmore) and Sir Claude, when sapped of attractive qualities and viewed with suspicion, readily lead to Miss Jessel and Peter Quint.

The Turn of the Screw is shorter, darker, more varied, and the stronger recommendation for those thinking about tackling Henry James.

[Siv30 · Rating 4 out of 5]

"וראשיתו של ההבדל הייתה כמובן בכך שכולם, ובכלל זה מייזי, פנו אליה מאותו היום ואילך בשם מרת ביל, לבקשתה המפורשת. בכך בעצם הסתכם השינוי, שכן זולת העובדה שהילדה יכלה כעת להרהר בכך שיש לה ארבעה הורים בסך הכול, ושאחרי שלושה חודשים נישא במעלה המדרגות אל אוזני הילדה הרוכנת על המעקה רשרושן המהוסה של התפתחויות רגישות יותר, הכול נותר כשהיה, כמדומה."

אחרי גירושים מכוערים, בית המשפט קבע שמייזי , בתם הצעירה של איידה וביל פראנג', תבלה חצי שנה אצל אביה וחצי שנה אצל אימה. מייזי הצעירה (כנראה בת 6 בתחילת הספר), מתחילה את נדודיה בין הבתים ההרוסים כשהוריה משתמשים בה כדי לחבוט אחד בשני וכדי להעביר מסרים מכוערים ונוראיים אחד בין השניה.

למייזי ישנן 2 אומנות: הגברת ויקס המוזרה והגב' אוברמור היפה. שתיהן מקדישות לה זמן ואהבה שאינה מקבלת מהוריה. אך העלילה מסתבכת כאשר אימה שלה נישאת למר קלוד ואביה נישא לגברת אוברמור שבאקט מוזר ומשונה מאמצת את שמו הראשון כשם משפחתה.

אז הנאמנויות של מייזי נקרעות בתוך הרביעיה שהולכת ומסתבכת גם בתוך עצמה כאשר הוריה הביולוגים בוגדים בבני זוגם החדשים ולבסוף מר קלוד וגברת אוברמור, אימה החורגת של מייזי שעתה נקראת הגב' ביל, פוצחים ברומן ונוטשים את בני זוגם כדי לחיות יחד. כל האירועים המזעזעים האלה מתרחשים תחת אפה של מייזי הצעירה שמנסה לנווט את דרכה במסתרי עולם המבוגרים.

כאשר לבסוף, הוריה שניהם בוחרים להתנתק ממייזי מסיבות שונות ומשונות (שכרוכות בבני זוג חדשים), מייזי נותרת תלויה במר קלוד. אבל גם הוא לא תמים, הוא מעוניין לקחת אותה לצרפת יחד עם גברת ביל. מייזי נאלצת להכריע האם להישאר עם האומנת הנאמנה שלה הגב' וויקס או להגר עם מר קלוד וגברת ביל.

על ביל פראנג', אביה של מייזי אנחנו כמעט לא יודעים דבר כי הוא אינו בתמונה. הוא מפסידן חסר כסף שנטש לא רק את מייזי, אלא גם את אימא החורגת גב' ביל. הוא מנהל רומן אהבהבים עם הרוזנת האמריקאית המתוארת ככושית מכוערת מעיניה של מייזי. מניעיו לרומן מתבררים כאשר הוא סומך עליה שתשלם עבור המרכבה של מייזי ותתמוך בו כלכלית.

אידה פראנג' אגואיסטית נרקסיסטית. היא נוטשת את מייזי לפרקי זמן ארוכים ואז מטיחה בה האשמות שאינה בת מסורה. בל נשכח שמדובר בילדה בת 6.

היא מעורבת אינטימית עם מגוון גברברים מאחורי גבו של בעלה ובזמן שבתה נטושה. לחלק מהגברברים מייזי נחשפת. למרות שהקורא אינו נחשף לכלל הגברברים בחייה של אידה, ניתן לקבל רושם על סוג החברה המועדפת עליה: צעירים ועשירים.

באתר מסויים המבקר מתאר את איידה כג'ק המרטש של המונוגמיסטים הסידרתיים. אני יכולה להזדהות עם התיאור הזה. איידה פשוט לא מסוגלת להפסיק את החיפוש אחר הגבר הבא, היא חולה במובן זה.

למרות התכנים הנוראיים של הספר, כשמייזי המסכנה מטלטלת בין הוריה המנוולים שמזניחים אותה, בין חברים של הוריה (המאהבים של אמא שלה והחברים של אביה) וחייה במציאות כאוטית בה אין שום עוגן יציב בחייה, הספר אירוני ומשעשע. הספר כתוב מנקודת המבט של מייזי המנסה לפענח את המציאות הנפתלת הנגלית לעיניה ולחשב את תוצאות האירועים עבורה. נקודת מבט זו, למרות שהיא חסרה הן בתפיסת האירועים בכללותם והן בפרשנות האירועים, יוצרת סיטואציות מגוחכות ואירוניות להפליא.

מייזי אומנם מתקשה לפרש את המסרים שעוברים דרכה ואת האירועים במציאות סביבה, אך הקורא מצליח לאסוף את המידע ולהגיע למסקנות. מייזי מוצאת את עצמה במרכז קרבות אפיים כשאהבה, שינאה ובגידות הם כלי נשק קטלניים:

הוריה נלחמים על המשמורת עליה. אחר כך הם נלחמים לא לקחת אותה.
גברת ויקס וגברת אוברמור נלחמות על אהבתו של מר קלוד. הן גם נלחמות על כך שמייזי תצטרף אליהן.
מר קלוד נלחם על איידה מול המאהבים שלה ואז נלחם על כך שמייזי תצטרף אליו ולגב' אוברמור לצרפת.

פשוט מלחמת הכל בכל ובמרכז מייזי.

אהבתי את הספר, את האירוניה השזורה בכתיבה ואת המורכבות שבו. הנרי ג'יימס מייטיב להעביר את הביקורת החברתית והמוסרית על הדמויות גם כאשר הדמות שמעיניה נמסרים האירועים היא ילדה צעירה. מורכבות הכתיבה של הנרי ג'יימס בונה את האירועים לקראת שיאם באירוניה משעשעת שנפרשת בפני הקורא באחת.

הדמויות הערמומיות ונוקטות מהלכים ומהלכי נגד להטעות את "האויבים" והמתחרים שלהן. רק בתום המהלך כולו, מסתברת מטרתן וכוונתן של הדמויות כמו במקטע הבא:

"לכך התכוונה כשדיברה על הסרת המכשולים בפני העברתה לבית ספר; נוכחותה של הילדה לא נדרשה עוד בבית כבת־לוויה קטנה — כפי שניסחה זאת בהיתול מרת ביל עצמה. ההתנגדות ליורשת לעלמה אוברמור נותרה על כנה; וזו, למען האמת, התבססה על טיעון של מרת ביל, אשר טענה, באופן אבסורדי לחלוטין, שהיא מחבבת מדי את בתה החורגת ולא תוכל להפקיד אותה בידיה הגסות של רודפת בצע כלשהי."

הספר מומלץ בחום.

[Michael · Rating 2 out of 5]

Try as I might, I just couldn't get into what I thought was going to be right up my alley. I blame that partly on circumstances -- I do much of my reading on the subway, and you just can't read James like that: a short trip alone will get you through a mere paragraph which you'll have gone over three or four times trying to even comprehend. So yes, I'll give James another chance when I can read him under more favorable conditions, but I also find his style needlessly cumbersome and obscure rather than exacting; fussy and anal rather than psychologically penetrating. I never cared about any of the characters or situations in this novel -- lord knows I wanted to, but James' prose just bogged them down. What can I say? I feel like a philistine and am trying to qualify my disappointment to maybe give the novel the benefit of the doubt, but that's how I feel.

[diario_de_um_leitor_pjv · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mais um pedaço da obra única da Henry James. Psicologicamente denso e complexo este é um texto em que cada página é uma aprendizagem sobre a construção de uma narrativa ficcional.

[Carol · Rating 3 out of 5]

I was angry while reading this book. Children forced to act as adults, because the adults in their lives act like children. Maisie learned at an early age how to survive divorce. Her parents stole her childhood from her, by making her a pawn in their disputes. Then they chose other people to influence Maisie who were just as bad. I liked the book, but had to get used to the dialogue of the times. Good book to read abôut how not to handle a divorce with children involved.

[Terence · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read The Ambassadors and The Portrait of a Lady sometime in the early ‘90s, when I was in graduate school. They passed through my consciousness with nary a ripple; the impression that I carried away was…boredom. I wasn’t able to engage with any of the characters, and the elite social milieu of late Victorian/Edwardian England wasn’t of interest to me as such (give me a W. Somerset Maugham tale and it’s a different story). Recently, and after much mental to-ing and fro-ing, I picked up an audiotape version of The Turn of the Screw (courtesy of the used-book section of the Azusa Public Library) and was again unimpressed. I believed that my relationship with Henry was at an end.

What prompted me to give him another chance?

Two things. The first is Steve’s review, which made it sound interesting. The second – related – reason is that, like Maisie, my parents divorced when I was fairly young. Happily for me, my father and mother were nothing like Maisie’s parents, Beale and Ida, but stories about divorce hold a particular fascination for me (see, for example, George Meredith’s cycle of poems about his divorce,
Modern Love.)

Why I wish I could give it a full four stars:

The story. Maisie Farange is one of the most remarkable characters I’ve come across in my reading. James tells her story in the third person but entirely from her point of view. The result is that she’s present on every page, and the reader knows only what she sees and feels. It’s a remarkable, brilliant tour de force.

Why I can only give it three stars:

The writing style. It’s…dense. This is not a book one reads on the bus while your iPod blares the latest Beyoncé in your ears. James’ sentences are often Rube Goldbergian in their complexity. An only moderately discursive example: “He demurred. ‘Oh, no. She has written to me,’ he presently subjoined. ‘She’s not afraid of your father either. No one at all is – really.’ Then he went on while Maisie’s little mind, with its filial spring too relaxed, from of old, for a pang at this want of parental majesty, speculated on the vague relation between Mrs. Beale’s courage and the question, for Mrs. Wix and herself, of a neat lodging with their friend. ‘She wouldn’t care a bit if Mr. Farange should make a row.’” (p. 87)

One reviewer suggests the interesting idea that the convolutions mirror Maisie’s incomprehension about what’s happening around her but I’m not entirely convinced.

The complexity works in parts – and there are some wickedly acerbic characterizations – but more often (for me) it was too affected and kept me from immersing myself entirely in the story. Though the reading got easier as my brain got used to parsing the prose, I never got comfortable with it.

I may pick this up in a couple of years and reread it; it’s definitely a book that demands one.