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Mąż i żona
Anne Silvester i Blanche Lundie to serdeczne przyjaciółki, które wychowywały się wspólnie. W pewne sierpniowe popołudnie przed obiema z nich otwiera się perspektywa małżeństwa, ale w zupełnie różnych okolicznościach. Blanche przyjmuje oświadczyny ukochanego Arnolda Brinkwortha, natomiast Anne, aby uniknąć pohańbienia, zmuszona jest zaaranżować potajemny ślub w szkockiej gospodzie z Geoffreyem Delamaynem, który wcześniej obiecał jej małżeństwo. Geoffrey wykorzystuje niepomyślny zbieg okoliczności, aby wykręcić się od zobowiązania, a o doręczenie listu Anne prosi swojego przyjaciela Arnolda. Z pozoru niewinna misja młodzieńca wykroczy poza zwykłe obowiązki posłańca. Dla dobra Anne zmuszony on będzie odgrywać przed personelem gospody rolę jej męża. Wkrótce okaże się, że pewnym osobom zależeć może na tym, aby faktycznie przedstawiać Arnolda i Anne jako męża i żonę.
574 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1870
74 people are currently reading
2131 people want to read
About the author
Wilkie Collins
2,467 books2,994 followersWilkie Collins was an English novelist and playwright, best known for The Woman in White (1860), an early sensation novel, and The Moonstone (1868), a pioneering work of detective fiction. Born to landscape painter William Collins and Harriet Geddes, he spent part of his childhood in Italy and France, learning both languages. Initially working as a tea merchant, he later studied law, though he never practiced. His literary career began with Antonina (1850), and a meeting with Charles Dickens in 1851 proved pivotal. The two became close friends and collaborators, with Collins contributing to Dickens' journals and co-writing dramatic works.
Collins' success peaked in the 1860s with novels that combined suspense with social critique, including No Name (1862), Armadale (1864), and The Moonstone, which established key elements of the modern detective story. His personal life was unconventional—he openly opposed marriage and lived with Caroline Graves and her daughter for much of his life, while also maintaining a separate relationship with Martha Rudd, with whom he had three children.
Plagued by gout, Collins became addicted to laudanum, which affected both his health and later works. Despite declining quality in his writing, he remained a respected figure, mentoring younger authors and advocating for writers' rights. He died in 1889 and was buried in Kensal Green Cemetery. His legacy endures through his influential novels, which laid the groundwork for both sensation fiction and detective literature.
Collins' success peaked in the 1860s with novels that combined suspense with social critique, including No Name (1862), Armadale (1864), and The Moonstone, which established key elements of the modern detective story. His personal life was unconventional—he openly opposed marriage and lived with Caroline Graves and her daughter for much of his life, while also maintaining a separate relationship with Martha Rudd, with whom he had three children.
Plagued by gout, Collins became addicted to laudanum, which affected both his health and later works. Despite declining quality in his writing, he remained a respected figure, mentoring younger authors and advocating for writers' rights. He died in 1889 and was buried in Kensal Green Cemetery. His legacy endures through his influential novels, which laid the groundwork for both sensation fiction and detective literature.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 165 reviews
April 26, 2024
Intriguing, suspenseful, and exciting, Man and Wife is another excellent work by Wilkie Collins. Though commonly associated with sensation fiction, most of his works were themed around the ambiguities and inadequacies of the law to protect citizens, especially women. In Man and Wife, Collins resumes the theme, this time taking on the irregular nature of Scottish marriage laws and their impact on the couples involved. The lax nature of the law and the irregular procedures made it impossible to judge for certain whether a marriage contract is concluded between the parties or not. The case law and authorized texts differed in their opinions and so were the legal professionals. This precarious nature of the law was detrimental to the parties and more so for women, for since there was enough room within, to manipulate, it was easy for husbands to disclaim the marriage if they wanted to. Ever sympathetic to the position of women, Collins picks his thread from a woman's position and writes Man and Wife to demonstrate the distressing position of a woman who is subjected to Scottish marriage law.
As is his custom, Collins picks an honest and courageous heroine who would immediately win the readers' sympathy. With easy grace, he pens the story so that we readers become interested in her. As the story progresses, we become involved in it and suffer indignation on her behalf. That is the extremity of the connection that Collins builds between his heroine and readers. While he is thus presenting a charming heroine, he also presents two admirable heroes, one young and one old to fight her cause. While the young one performs the noble duty of protecting the reputation of our distressed heroine, the old one performs the more formidable duty of establishing her position as a respectable woman in the eyes of society. Not forgetting the customary wicked villain and the comic relief, Collins brings a contrasting yet impressive and interesting cast to this compelling story.
Man and Wife is a powerful story that is written with a sympathetic voice. The important themes that are raised and the earnest manner and the grave tone in which they are exposed directly appeal to the heart of the readers. Yet, at the same time, Collins ease the readers' heavy heart with his humour. The employment of comical relief through his chosen channel (this being always a character, and here it's being a titled lady) lightens the reader immediately with a good outburst of mirth.
This work is one of Collins's best. There is no doubt. He has done his research meticulously and carefully formed a story that would raise important social and legal issues. But in doing so, however, Collins hasn't lost sight that this is fiction. He employs an interesting cast and engages in a grave and humorous style of writing creating an entertaining work of literature that will stay for a long time in readers' minds. Two works of his have already become my favourites and this one will now join their hands. When a literary work becomes my favourite, it will be, in my subjective perspective, a complete work. And Man and Wife is complete in the importance of its themes, the characters, the writing, and the emotional connection created with the story.
More of my reviews can be found at http://piyangiejay.com/
As is his custom, Collins picks an honest and courageous heroine who would immediately win the readers' sympathy. With easy grace, he pens the story so that we readers become interested in her. As the story progresses, we become involved in it and suffer indignation on her behalf. That is the extremity of the connection that Collins builds between his heroine and readers. While he is thus presenting a charming heroine, he also presents two admirable heroes, one young and one old to fight her cause. While the young one performs the noble duty of protecting the reputation of our distressed heroine, the old one performs the more formidable duty of establishing her position as a respectable woman in the eyes of society. Not forgetting the customary wicked villain and the comic relief, Collins brings a contrasting yet impressive and interesting cast to this compelling story.
Man and Wife is a powerful story that is written with a sympathetic voice. The important themes that are raised and the earnest manner and the grave tone in which they are exposed directly appeal to the heart of the readers. Yet, at the same time, Collins ease the readers' heavy heart with his humour. The employment of comical relief through his chosen channel (this being always a character, and here it's being a titled lady) lightens the reader immediately with a good outburst of mirth.
This work is one of Collins's best. There is no doubt. He has done his research meticulously and carefully formed a story that would raise important social and legal issues. But in doing so, however, Collins hasn't lost sight that this is fiction. He employs an interesting cast and engages in a grave and humorous style of writing creating an entertaining work of literature that will stay for a long time in readers' minds. Two works of his have already become my favourites and this one will now join their hands. When a literary work becomes my favourite, it will be, in my subjective perspective, a complete work. And Man and Wife is complete in the importance of its themes, the characters, the writing, and the emotional connection created with the story.
More of my reviews can be found at http://piyangiejay.com/
October 10, 2023
A really strong Wilkie Collins. Dramatic, pacy and exciting with fantastic characterisation.
January 15, 2019
My recent reading of Wilkie Collins’s Man and Wife was a great illustration of what a good idea it can be to come to novels in a state of blithe ignorance, without any idea of how they are conventionally regarded.
Published in 1870, Man and Wife is apparently often seen as representing an early instance of the later Collins’s tendency to centre his novels around social issues: a choice that is seen as signalling a decline in literary quality. (In Swinburne’s words: ‘What brought good Wilkie’s genius near perdition? / Some demon whispered: “Wilkie, have a mission!”’)
Fortunately, I had no idea of any of this at the time I read the novel, and I didn’t find the novel’s social-issue focus offputting. In fact, I liked it very much. Collins drills in on certain issues of marital law in Ireland and Scotland which could, and did, create painful legal issues for individuals, particularly women. He also turns his attention, in Man and Wife, to what he clearly saw as a problem in 1870s imperial Britain: the growing cult of brawn over brain among the social elite, as typified by the growth of early sports culture. The novel’s villain, Geoffrey Delamayn, is a magnificent physical specimen and a semi-professional athlete, but he lacks any moral sense or human sensitivity, and is brutal especially in his treatment of women.
The introduction to the edition I read (Oxford World’s Classics) takes it for granted that the ‘moral evils of sport’ theme will have no meaning whatever for the modern reader. I’m not sure that’s actually 100% true, given that trials for rape and violence and sexual harassment on the part of sportsmen are not exactly uncommon in our day; but, in any case, Collins’s attitude is surely interesting as a sliver of social history. I found the account of training and betting culture, and the vivid narrative of an early sporting event (a race in which Geoffrey is involved) rather fascinating; it certainly added to the texture of the novel.
For the rest … well, this is Collins’s usual, well-paced, well-written, character-rich, crimey model of novel: up there, I would say, with his best. The romantic leads, Blanche Lundie and Arnold Brinkworth, are appealing without being especially interesting, but the melancholy heroine Anne Silvester has a a little more to her; and the enduring friendship between Blanche and Anne is the kind of thing that would be celebrated as a proto-feminist landmark if this were a novel written by a woman. Collins also gives us a queer, disconcerting, distinctly non-cliché villain in the overmuscled Geoffrey, and a splendid, Jane Austen-style satirical portrait of a pompous, snobbish ego-monster in Blanche’s stepmother, Lady Lundie.
Best of all, in the figures of the cook and domestic abuse survivor Hester, and in the sprightly retired Scots lawyer Sir Patrick Lundie, Blanche’s uncle, Collins sketches out a couple of genuinely interesting and unusual characters. Hester is a complete mish-mash, to be honest—an unholy mixture of Gothic horror archetype and sad and not implausible contemporary hard luck story (not too unusual a mixture in Collins, I suspect). Sir Patrick is just a delight: an elderly, patrician, slightly waspish figure, oddly ancien-régime for someone presumably born around 1800. He is used for much of the novel as a satirical, out-of-time perspective on the values of 1860s society, but gradually grows into much more of a character, developing in all kinds of unexpected ways.
I have noticed in my reading of Collins so far that the characters he portrays most warmly often have some kind of defect, whether social (the illegitimacy of Norah and Magdalen in No Name; the ‘taint’ of African blood in Osiaz Midwinter in Armadale), or physical (the drug addiction of Ezra Jennings in The Moonstone or the paraplegia of Miserrimus Dexter in The Law and the Lady). Despite Sir Patrick Lundie’s patrician social status, he is spiritually linked to these ‘disabled’ characters—and to the forsaken Anne Silvester in this novel—by his physical defect of a club foot. Collins seems to reserve his sympathy principally for the ‘maimed’, taken in a very broad sense—one reason why he seems to me such a very modern novelist, and why I keep coming back to him (this must be my sixth or seventh Collins in the past few years).
Published in 1870, Man and Wife is apparently often seen as representing an early instance of the later Collins’s tendency to centre his novels around social issues: a choice that is seen as signalling a decline in literary quality. (In Swinburne’s words: ‘What brought good Wilkie’s genius near perdition? / Some demon whispered: “Wilkie, have a mission!”’)
Fortunately, I had no idea of any of this at the time I read the novel, and I didn’t find the novel’s social-issue focus offputting. In fact, I liked it very much. Collins drills in on certain issues of marital law in Ireland and Scotland which could, and did, create painful legal issues for individuals, particularly women. He also turns his attention, in Man and Wife, to what he clearly saw as a problem in 1870s imperial Britain: the growing cult of brawn over brain among the social elite, as typified by the growth of early sports culture. The novel’s villain, Geoffrey Delamayn, is a magnificent physical specimen and a semi-professional athlete, but he lacks any moral sense or human sensitivity, and is brutal especially in his treatment of women.
The introduction to the edition I read (Oxford World’s Classics) takes it for granted that the ‘moral evils of sport’ theme will have no meaning whatever for the modern reader. I’m not sure that’s actually 100% true, given that trials for rape and violence and sexual harassment on the part of sportsmen are not exactly uncommon in our day; but, in any case, Collins’s attitude is surely interesting as a sliver of social history. I found the account of training and betting culture, and the vivid narrative of an early sporting event (a race in which Geoffrey is involved) rather fascinating; it certainly added to the texture of the novel.
For the rest … well, this is Collins’s usual, well-paced, well-written, character-rich, crimey model of novel: up there, I would say, with his best. The romantic leads, Blanche Lundie and Arnold Brinkworth, are appealing without being especially interesting, but the melancholy heroine Anne Silvester has a a little more to her; and the enduring friendship between Blanche and Anne is the kind of thing that would be celebrated as a proto-feminist landmark if this were a novel written by a woman. Collins also gives us a queer, disconcerting, distinctly non-cliché villain in the overmuscled Geoffrey, and a splendid, Jane Austen-style satirical portrait of a pompous, snobbish ego-monster in Blanche’s stepmother, Lady Lundie.
Best of all, in the figures of the cook and domestic abuse survivor Hester, and in the sprightly retired Scots lawyer Sir Patrick Lundie, Blanche’s uncle, Collins sketches out a couple of genuinely interesting and unusual characters. Hester is a complete mish-mash, to be honest—an unholy mixture of Gothic horror archetype and sad and not implausible contemporary hard luck story (not too unusual a mixture in Collins, I suspect). Sir Patrick is just a delight: an elderly, patrician, slightly waspish figure, oddly ancien-régime for someone presumably born around 1800. He is used for much of the novel as a satirical, out-of-time perspective on the values of 1860s society, but gradually grows into much more of a character, developing in all kinds of unexpected ways.
I have noticed in my reading of Collins so far that the characters he portrays most warmly often have some kind of defect, whether social (the illegitimacy of Norah and Magdalen in No Name; the ‘taint’ of African blood in Osiaz Midwinter in Armadale), or physical (the drug addiction of Ezra Jennings in The Moonstone or the paraplegia of Miserrimus Dexter in The Law and the Lady). Despite Sir Patrick Lundie’s patrician social status, he is spiritually linked to these ‘disabled’ characters—and to the forsaken Anne Silvester in this novel—by his physical defect of a club foot. Collins seems to reserve his sympathy principally for the ‘maimed’, taken in a very broad sense—one reason why he seems to me such a very modern novelist, and why I keep coming back to him (this must be my sixth or seventh Collins in the past few years).
December 7, 2012
Yet another Wilkie Collins years ahead of its time. Seriously: why does everyone think Charles Dickens is the greatest English Victorian novelist?? After The Law and the Lady's feminist heroine, we now have a novel which deals with the terrible situation many 19th century women found themselves in when they realised they'd married a complete pig. Social commentary wrapped up in a gripping storyline, with more than its fair share of humour considering the emotional subject mattter...
October 25, 2023
Wilkie Collins is not a favorite Victorian writer for me but this is definitely a standout book from the six I’ve read by him. The theme of justice in this novel is fascinating and the last line is deliciously fitting. I’m so glad I’ll get to discuss this with my Patreon group soon. I read the last 100 pages in just over two hours because the action was irresistible. The build up to the final action was sometimes slow, but I felt interested in the characters and compelled by their connections to each other so it was easy to keep reading.
This is my 28th Victorian novel this year so I have now read exactly 100 works of Victorian fiction. 🙌🏻 Everything else this year is the cream on top! (And already working to the next goal of 150!)
This is my 28th Victorian novel this year so I have now read exactly 100 works of Victorian fiction. 🙌🏻 Everything else this year is the cream on top! (And already working to the next goal of 150!)
March 24, 2021
¡Impresionante!, una novela de 700 páginas en el que básicamente se centra en un solo tema, que es la escabrosa ley matrimonial que había en Escocia en aquellos tiempos y lo hace con tal detalle, descripción de cada momento intenso, cada mirada, cada pensamiento, cada situación, que mientras lo lees es como si escucharas la música de fondo en una película de misterio, pensando en que lo peor puede pasar. Collins nos avisa de que esta historia difiere de las anteriormente escritas y, que esta vez, la ficción se basa en hechos ocurridos como consecuencia de las escandalosas leyes matrimoniales que antiguamente habían en el Reino Unido, nunca hubiese esperado una novela tan intensa e intrigante.
Marido y Mujer, es una novela reivindicativa, el autor refleja y critica claramente los abusos cometidos por esas leyes matrimoniales tan disparatadas que había en aquellos tiempos porque, aunque la historia sea ficción, no hace más que adaptarla a los hechos reales de la época. De hecho, Collins, en el apéndice, hace referencias a informes reales de la Comisión Real, en la que sus miembros solicitan intervención del Estado por ciertas irregularidades en la legislación, sin que el Parlamento hubiese movido un dedo para modificarlas. Por otro lado, también critica esa obsesión por el ejercicio físico, hasta tal magnitud, que la moda por tener músculos llega a poner en riesgo la salud.
Realmente, la novela está centrada en un caso legislativo que ha debido de traer cola en aquella época en Escocia, no digo que en ciertos momentos haya podido ser beneficioso para alguna mujer, tan perjudicada en la sociedad a través de la historia, pero en otros, como en el que se relata en esta historia, es absolutamente enrevesado y absurdo. Es amena y está magníficamente relatada, con una buena traducción, algo muy importante en una novela extranjera.
Marido y Mujer, es una novela reivindicativa, el autor refleja y critica claramente los abusos cometidos por esas leyes matrimoniales tan disparatadas que había en aquellos tiempos porque, aunque la historia sea ficción, no hace más que adaptarla a los hechos reales de la época. De hecho, Collins, en el apéndice, hace referencias a informes reales de la Comisión Real, en la que sus miembros solicitan intervención del Estado por ciertas irregularidades en la legislación, sin que el Parlamento hubiese movido un dedo para modificarlas. Por otro lado, también critica esa obsesión por el ejercicio físico, hasta tal magnitud, que la moda por tener músculos llega a poner en riesgo la salud.
Realmente, la novela está centrada en un caso legislativo que ha debido de traer cola en aquella época en Escocia, no digo que en ciertos momentos haya podido ser beneficioso para alguna mujer, tan perjudicada en la sociedad a través de la historia, pero en otros, como en el que se relata en esta historia, es absolutamente enrevesado y absurdo. Es amena y está magníficamente relatada, con una buena traducción, algo muy importante en una novela extranjera.
September 13, 2009
When Dickens was producing his scathing attack on the English chancery system (Bleak House), or his expose of the boarding school system (Nicholas Nickleby), his good friend Wilkie Collins produced this morality tale about the marriage laws in some parts (Scotland, Ireland) of the British empire in the 19th century. And, he doesn't let the institution of marriage off easily, showing how, for a woman, a marriage was a form of legalized bondage which permitted the husband to essentially steal all of a woman's own property. Today, when so much noise is heard about "the sanctity of marriage," it is worth remembering that marriage is seldom the ideal portrayal we see in "Leave it to Beaver."
Man and Wife is a lesser-known Collins novel, but any Collins aficionado will find it just as absorbing as the better-known works. It is true that his attacks on the inadequacies of 19th British marriage laws and customs may strike some as a bit strident, but on the whole I found the book very interesting, informative and entertaining to read.
Man and Wife is a lesser-known Collins novel, but any Collins aficionado will find it just as absorbing as the better-known works. It is true that his attacks on the inadequacies of 19th British marriage laws and customs may strike some as a bit strident, but on the whole I found the book very interesting, informative and entertaining to read.
June 2, 2022
Impresionante.
February 5, 2010
They don't write 'em like this anymore.
What the endorsers of 'the good old days' tend to forget, and the view explored through the character of Sir Patrick, is that the past has always looked better than the present. So as a modern reader of fiction from the 1800's, it was interesting to see that although this period of time might seem idealized to us now, it wasn't so for the people living then. Of course, this seemed common sense once I started thinking about it, but I just needed it pointed out to me.
One of the things I love most about reading books from earlier periods is that it always provides an interesting insight to popular attitudes, beliefs and insights at the time. For example, I thought the concern held by Sir Patrick (and evidently Wilkie Collins himself) about the degeneration of England being brought about by a 'fetish' amongst the young generation for physical exercise was fascinating. The arguments were absorbing to follow and wonderfully supported in the villainous character of Geoffery Delamayn. Although to the modern reader the view might seem a little strange, I found it best just to accept and absorb the arguments.
The other issue that Collins deals with in this book is the subject of 'irregular marriage' laws in Scotland, branching out later into a critique of the institution itself. The wry wit with which these scathing critiques were written was truly a pleasure to read. I think perhaps that this book had some of the most biting, enjoyable humour out of the other Wilkie Collins books that I have read.
The only problem I did have with it was that I found the perpetual visits between houses a little tedious after a while, but not so much that it distracted from the story.
What the endorsers of 'the good old days' tend to forget, and the view explored through the character of Sir Patrick, is that the past has always looked better than the present. So as a modern reader of fiction from the 1800's, it was interesting to see that although this period of time might seem idealized to us now, it wasn't so for the people living then. Of course, this seemed common sense once I started thinking about it, but I just needed it pointed out to me.
One of the things I love most about reading books from earlier periods is that it always provides an interesting insight to popular attitudes, beliefs and insights at the time. For example, I thought the concern held by Sir Patrick (and evidently Wilkie Collins himself) about the degeneration of England being brought about by a 'fetish' amongst the young generation for physical exercise was fascinating. The arguments were absorbing to follow and wonderfully supported in the villainous character of Geoffery Delamayn. Although to the modern reader the view might seem a little strange, I found it best just to accept and absorb the arguments.
The other issue that Collins deals with in this book is the subject of 'irregular marriage' laws in Scotland, branching out later into a critique of the institution itself. The wry wit with which these scathing critiques were written was truly a pleasure to read. I think perhaps that this book had some of the most biting, enjoyable humour out of the other Wilkie Collins books that I have read.
The only problem I did have with it was that I found the perpetual visits between houses a little tedious after a while, but not so much that it distracted from the story.
August 31, 2009
Not my favorite Wilkie Collins but nontheless a great classic book dealing with themes unique to the era. You can always rely on Collins to keep you guessing until the end. Suspense fiction got started with this author and as a contemporary/rival of Dickens you can expect a good read.
October 31, 2023
"So do we shape our own destinies, blindfold. So do we hold our poor little tenure of happiness at the capricious mercy of Chance."
My 50th Victorian classic is this gripping sensation novel! A fast-paced novel all about the complexities and fluidity of Scottish marriage laws in the time period and full of intrigue, miscommunication, heartbreak, mystery, and villainy. It felt like every chapter was a cliffhanger and kept growing more and more suspenseful right up until the final chapters. I can only imagine how much more chilling it must have been to read in the time period when these events were a real possibility...
My 50th Victorian classic is this gripping sensation novel! A fast-paced novel all about the complexities and fluidity of Scottish marriage laws in the time period and full of intrigue, miscommunication, heartbreak, mystery, and villainy. It felt like every chapter was a cliffhanger and kept growing more and more suspenseful right up until the final chapters. I can only imagine how much more chilling it must have been to read in the time period when these events were a real possibility...
April 5, 2023
Perfecto! Is the word that came to mind as I read the last two words of this novel. I went in cold, knowing nothing about it, expecting nothing, other than I had enjoyed two other novels, The Moonstone and The Woman in White, by Wilkie Collins and found this book, while longer than most modern novels, yet delicious to my tastes. There was plenty of suspense, humor, excellent dialogue, delightfully cringe-worthy characters, astute commentary on the idiosyncrasies of society and human behavior; in short, a bit of everything which makes reading fiction worthwhile. I also learned quite a bit about the horrendous Scottish and English marriage laws of the Victorian era which could be so cruelly turned against women if the husband was a brute. Collins was a reformer in his own right, along with his friend, Dickens, though he was not so well known. Too bad. This is an excellent read!
January 9, 2014
Hell of gripping, as they say. Why isn't this better-known? Would it be blasphemous to say that it's better than The Woman in White and The Moonstone? 'Cause it is. Not as good as No Name, though.
May 6, 2024
Marido y mujer empieza bien y acaba aún mejor, pero la parte media se alarga demasiado dando vueltas sobre el mismo punto (si cierta carta sale o no a la luz). Quizá le pese demasiado a la obra la doble intencionalidad que tuvo Collins cuando la escribió: la primera, dar a conocer las farragosas leyes matrimoniales del Reino Unido, que dejaban, en ocasiones, sin protección a una de las partes (la mayoría de las veces, a la mujer); la segunda, expresar su opinión en contra de la fiebre por el deporte y la exaltación del deportista que nació en la época. También hay dos importantes denuncias: la grave situación de desamparo de la mujer, que cuando se casaba, salvo acuerdo prematrimonial, perdía todo su patrimonio, al pasar este a manos del marido; y la hipocresía de la sociedad, que en nombre de la Virtud y la Moral obligaba a la mujer a no abandonar a su marido, aunque este la despreciara o maltratara.
“La ley no permite que una mujer casada se considere dueña de nada, a menos que haya hecho un acuerdo previo (…). Usted no hizo ningún acuerdo. Su marido tiene derecho a vender sus muebles”.
Por otro lado, es un libro con un tono muy socarrón y que a veces deja algún comentario que en estos tiempos hace sangrar los oídos.
No es uno de los Collins que recomendaría para empezar con el autor, pero es un libro que te atrapa a pesar de que en ciertos tramos se atranca un poco.
“La ley no permite que una mujer casada se considere dueña de nada, a menos que haya hecho un acuerdo previo (…). Usted no hizo ningún acuerdo. Su marido tiene derecho a vender sus muebles”.
Por otro lado, es un libro con un tono muy socarrón y que a veces deja algún comentario que en estos tiempos hace sangrar los oídos.
No es uno de los Collins que recomendaría para empezar con el autor, pero es un libro que te atrapa a pesar de que en ciertos tramos se atranca un poco.
January 8, 2018
Pubblicato nel 1870, il padre della detective story si scaglia contro le contraddizioni delle leggi vigenti sul matrimonio e sulla proprietà e contro una generazione che ha abbandonato l’affinamento dell’intelletto per dedicarsi al culto dei muscoli e alla pratica di sport violenti. Altra perla da custodire gelosamente.
«Spero che il lettore di queste pagine riconoscerà che il fine della storia è sempre parte integrante della storia stessa. In un lavoro di questo genere, la principale condizione per il successo è che realtà e finzione non siano mai scindibili l’una dall’altra. Ho lavorato con tutto il mio impegno per raggiungere questo proposito, e confido di non aver lavorato invano.»
«Spero che il lettore di queste pagine riconoscerà che il fine della storia è sempre parte integrante della storia stessa. In un lavoro di questo genere, la principale condizione per il successo è che realtà e finzione non siano mai scindibili l’una dall’altra. Ho lavorato con tutto il mio impegno per raggiungere questo proposito, e confido di non aver lavorato invano.»
October 21, 2015
I enjoyed the story - Wilkie always throws in a nice little twist and a bit of irony for spice. Too long by far, though. I would have enjoyed it much more if it had been at least 100 pages shorter. It's a light read but a heavy-weight.
March 18, 2023
After the success of his four great novels of the 1860s (The Woman in White, Armadale, No Name, The Moonstone), Wilkie Collins wrote Man and Wife. Here, Collins melded the sensation novel form with a critique of Victorian society: specifically, its inequitable marriage laws and the rights and legal status of women. Unfortunately, the characters are a little too cardboard to make either side of the meld work as well as they might have. The heroine, Anne, who is promised marriage by one man only to believe that she might have unknowingly wed another, is too unselfish and long-suffering for me to feel much sympathy with her. At the same time, the villain is presented as an exemplar of an odd belief of Collins's, that Victorian society was obsessed with physical manliness and strength, which makes the villain feel unrealistic as well.
Still, the plot is suspenseful, particularly in the last third of the story, and there was one character (Sir Patrick, who struggles to save Anne from her fate) whom I liked as much as any in Collins's earlier novels. If you've already read his four best novels, Man and Wife is definitely worth your time.
Still, the plot is suspenseful, particularly in the last third of the story, and there was one character (Sir Patrick, who struggles to save Anne from her fate) whom I liked as much as any in Collins's earlier novels. If you've already read his four best novels, Man and Wife is definitely worth your time.
June 8, 2016
This book is BANANAS in the best Wilkie Collins way. Within the first twenty pages, I was like "oh my GOD what is happening!"
Of his other works, I'd compare it most strongly to "No Name;" if you didn't like the social-issues soapbox he gets on in that one, you won't care for "Man and Wife."
I, however, happen to love listening to Victorians rant about the messed up laws of their day. I don't know why, it's just something about a guy getting really hot under the collar about Scotch/Irish marriage laws (with repeated assurances that he's talking about REAL laws, not just something he made up for the book...)...I really love it. Oh! And he hates jocks.
Quality of plot-wise, it's no "Woman in White," but if what you enjoy about Wilkie is hearing him get righteously angry about contrived situations meant to illustrate unfair laws...you'll love this one.
Of his other works, I'd compare it most strongly to "No Name;" if you didn't like the social-issues soapbox he gets on in that one, you won't care for "Man and Wife."
I, however, happen to love listening to Victorians rant about the messed up laws of their day. I don't know why, it's just something about a guy getting really hot under the collar about Scotch/Irish marriage laws (with repeated assurances that he's talking about REAL laws, not just something he made up for the book...)...I really love it. Oh! And he hates jocks.
Quality of plot-wise, it's no "Woman in White," but if what you enjoy about Wilkie is hearing him get righteously angry about contrived situations meant to illustrate unfair laws...you'll love this one.
September 18, 2013
Wilkie Collins is known as one of the fathers of the mystery with The Moonstone and The Woman in White, both of which I would recommend. In this work, Collins also shows himself as a master of suspense while engaging in some pointed social commentary as well.
The suspense (and much of the commentary) is built around the Scottish marriage laws of the time, which recognized "irregular marriages" in which men and women, who wittingly or not, represented themselves as married were indeed married under law. The plot develops around Geoffrey Delamayn, who has gotten Anne Winchester "in trouble" and is compelled to meet her and marry her at a Scottish inn. Delamayn conveniently has to return to London because of an ailing father and sends the friend whose life he saved, Arnold Brinkworth, who is engaged to Anne's best friend Blanche Lundie, to carry a message to this effect, a message which becomes very important and is the object of much scheming subsequently. Arnold arrives to find that to allow Anne to stay at the inn, he must represent himself as her "husband" even though Anne resists this. They stay in separate rooms and he leaves the next morning. This becomes the pretense Delamayn uses to escape his marriage obligation in order to marry a wealthy widow. Unfortunately the contention that Anne and Arnold are "married" only becomes known after Arnold marries. First we are in suspense as to when this will come to light. Second, we are in suspense as to the outcome and whether Blanche's uncle and guardian, Sir Patrick Lundie, will be able to vindicate Arnold and his marriage to Blanche. And finally, we have the suspense as Delamayn plots against the life of Anne, compelling the help of mysterious Hester Dethridge. All this develops at a leisurely pace over 600 pages in this edition, yet this never seemed dragged out to me--a testimony to Collins art.
The book serves most significantly as social commentary on the state of marriage laws that may both entrap people into unwanted marriages and subject women to the brutality of unloving husbands who can seize property and endanger their lives without legal recourse. Although these laws have been changed in the U.K. as well as the U.S., women still live at the mercy of men in many parts of the world without legal protection of life or property.
Collins also engages in a critique of the culture of athleticism that emphasized the development of body at the expense of the formation of mind or character, represented in the character of Geoffrey Delamayn. Delamayn neglects his education to train for athletic events which both make his reputation and break his health. This doesn't sound very far from the world of collegiate athletes in big money sports like basketball and football today.
Altogether, I thought this was a great read both at the level of suspense and for the issues it raises that are still with us today.
The suspense (and much of the commentary) is built around the Scottish marriage laws of the time, which recognized "irregular marriages" in which men and women, who wittingly or not, represented themselves as married were indeed married under law. The plot develops around Geoffrey Delamayn, who has gotten Anne Winchester "in trouble" and is compelled to meet her and marry her at a Scottish inn. Delamayn conveniently has to return to London because of an ailing father and sends the friend whose life he saved, Arnold Brinkworth, who is engaged to Anne's best friend Blanche Lundie, to carry a message to this effect, a message which becomes very important and is the object of much scheming subsequently. Arnold arrives to find that to allow Anne to stay at the inn, he must represent himself as her "husband" even though Anne resists this. They stay in separate rooms and he leaves the next morning. This becomes the pretense Delamayn uses to escape his marriage obligation in order to marry a wealthy widow. Unfortunately the contention that Anne and Arnold are "married" only becomes known after Arnold marries. First we are in suspense as to when this will come to light. Second, we are in suspense as to the outcome and whether Blanche's uncle and guardian, Sir Patrick Lundie, will be able to vindicate Arnold and his marriage to Blanche. And finally, we have the suspense as Delamayn plots against the life of Anne, compelling the help of mysterious Hester Dethridge. All this develops at a leisurely pace over 600 pages in this edition, yet this never seemed dragged out to me--a testimony to Collins art.
The book serves most significantly as social commentary on the state of marriage laws that may both entrap people into unwanted marriages and subject women to the brutality of unloving husbands who can seize property and endanger their lives without legal recourse. Although these laws have been changed in the U.K. as well as the U.S., women still live at the mercy of men in many parts of the world without legal protection of life or property.
Collins also engages in a critique of the culture of athleticism that emphasized the development of body at the expense of the formation of mind or character, represented in the character of Geoffrey Delamayn. Delamayn neglects his education to train for athletic events which both make his reputation and break his health. This doesn't sound very far from the world of collegiate athletes in big money sports like basketball and football today.
Altogether, I thought this was a great read both at the level of suspense and for the issues it raises that are still with us today.
April 26, 2016
Daunted though I was by the sheer bulk of this volume (over 600 pages of small, crammed print!), and not sure whether I would be able to grasp the legal aspects of the story, hence perhaps impeded from appreciating Wilkie's effort at contesting the Scotch marriage system of the 19th century, due to there being no Penguin or Oxford edition for Kindle with explanatory notes, yet hankering after some yarn where mistery and drama converge with a bit of comedy, I finally gave this massive novel a shot--and got a likewise tremendous rush out of it.
As to the irregular marriages in Scotland, however, a crucial issue here (indeed, Collins' concern about their implications suggested to him the plot for this book), in order to understand these unions, controversial even among those who then administered that law, we are, through
the dialogue between characters, referred to a judicial authority who delivered a statement of Scotch marriages in these terms: "Consent makes marriage. No form of ceremony, civil or religious; no notice before, or publication after; no cohabitation, no writing, no witnesses even, are essential to the constitution of this, the most important contract wich two persons can enter into." That does not sound too complicated, does it? Now add this clause from another lawyer to the statement previous: "In Scotland, consent makes marriage; and consent may be proved by inference." So the main conflict in the tale arises from this observation by Sir Patrick Lundie: "It is extremely difficult for a man to pretend to marry in Scotland, and not really to do it. And it is, on the other hand, extremely easy for a man to drift into marrying in Scotland without feeling the slightest suspicion of having done it himself."
Another point that Wilkie touched, and which, in turn, may move anyone with a sense of human justice, was the complete annulment of women's rights in favour of their husbands, notwithstanding how base they might be. Damn! It cut me to the quick that such abuse and cruelty as Hester Dethridge suffered from her monster of a husband was condoned, nay, approved and almost encouraged by bills of Parliament. What sort of magistrates, I wonder, could force a woman to surrender her dignity and her whole resources to the whim of a brute that will beat and rob her as often as she manages to bring herself up again?
But there's also jest in the book, as Wilkie mocks the national craze for sporting events and the idolising of athletes (chapter 18, where Julius goes in search of his brother Geoffrey, when the latter has just been confirmed as representing 'The South' in a coming foot-race is pure magic). Wilkie also argues that the british responded with rampant enthusiasm to such entertainments, whereas the very same people showed little interest and fidgeted impatiently in ther seats during a Shakespeare play. Moreover, while the public extolls the physical prowess of individuals, Sir Patrick Lundie, serving as Collins' mouthpiece on the subject, bemoans that such prowess is achieved at the expense of stunting the development of moral values and fraternal feelings. True or not, it is because of his utter lack of compassion and sympathy towards his fellow creatures that Geoffrey Delamayn abandons Anne, the woman who fell for him, and betrays Arnold, the best friend he ever had. A downright scoundrel, Geoffrey. But he didn't lie and scheme for the sake of amusement or out of absolute malice. He had a motive, a motive strong enough to dispel both his consideration for a sentimental governess he himself had compromised and would disgrace if he did not marry, as well as his affection for a friend whose loyalty to himself he well knew and, therefore, took advantage of: it was the prospect of material comforts and social status, then, that drove Geoffrey Delamayn to leave Anne in the lurch, making a compensation prize of his own friend Arnold for the poor lass (not caring a straw for the fact that Arnold was engaged to Anne's best friend Blanche), since he, Geoffrey, expected an inheritance from his father, so he had to avoid any scandal as a condition to receive it, plus his mother was already securing for him a rich widow for his wife.
Now, back to Hester Dethridge, we learn from her confession that the pain and terror she once endured did not render her a cripple, as she appeared, but rather, as it were, enhanced her perception and provided her with sufficient motive to, on her part, betray Geoffrey at the very end. Like the photographer in the TV series The X-Files (season 6, episode 10, titled "Tithonius") who always arrived at the site of fatal accidents before anyone else had even heard of them, not because he had caused these accidents himself, as the police at first suspected, but because he could 'see' death lurking around and descend upon the chosen of the occasion; like this chap, I say, Hester's eyes were open to death too in the shape of a black figure hovering around certain people. Yet, instead of watching as a mere witness, she felt impelled to play the executor of death's sentences. Yes, there is a supernatural element in Hester's tale; still, the novel that incorporates it does not depart for a single second from the realm of the ordinary, treating commonplace matters (we may account for Hester's actions by declaring her delusional, rather than believing a black figure actually ordained her to terminate the wicked in the world with her own hands). And because of this narrative feat, I apply to Collins a phrase of Goethe's as quoted by Wilde in one of his essays: "It is in working within limits that the master reveals himself."
For my part, as regards the story, scope and style of this particular work, I pronounce Wilkie Collins unmatched in his craft.
As to the irregular marriages in Scotland, however, a crucial issue here (indeed, Collins' concern about their implications suggested to him the plot for this book), in order to understand these unions, controversial even among those who then administered that law, we are, through
the dialogue between characters, referred to a judicial authority who delivered a statement of Scotch marriages in these terms: "Consent makes marriage. No form of ceremony, civil or religious; no notice before, or publication after; no cohabitation, no writing, no witnesses even, are essential to the constitution of this, the most important contract wich two persons can enter into." That does not sound too complicated, does it? Now add this clause from another lawyer to the statement previous: "In Scotland, consent makes marriage; and consent may be proved by inference." So the main conflict in the tale arises from this observation by Sir Patrick Lundie: "It is extremely difficult for a man to pretend to marry in Scotland, and not really to do it. And it is, on the other hand, extremely easy for a man to drift into marrying in Scotland without feeling the slightest suspicion of having done it himself."
Another point that Wilkie touched, and which, in turn, may move anyone with a sense of human justice, was the complete annulment of women's rights in favour of their husbands, notwithstanding how base they might be. Damn! It cut me to the quick that such abuse and cruelty as Hester Dethridge suffered from her monster of a husband was condoned, nay, approved and almost encouraged by bills of Parliament. What sort of magistrates, I wonder, could force a woman to surrender her dignity and her whole resources to the whim of a brute that will beat and rob her as often as she manages to bring herself up again?
But there's also jest in the book, as Wilkie mocks the national craze for sporting events and the idolising of athletes (chapter 18, where Julius goes in search of his brother Geoffrey, when the latter has just been confirmed as representing 'The South' in a coming foot-race is pure magic). Wilkie also argues that the british responded with rampant enthusiasm to such entertainments, whereas the very same people showed little interest and fidgeted impatiently in ther seats during a Shakespeare play. Moreover, while the public extolls the physical prowess of individuals, Sir Patrick Lundie, serving as Collins' mouthpiece on the subject, bemoans that such prowess is achieved at the expense of stunting the development of moral values and fraternal feelings. True or not, it is because of his utter lack of compassion and sympathy towards his fellow creatures that Geoffrey Delamayn abandons Anne, the woman who fell for him, and betrays Arnold, the best friend he ever had. A downright scoundrel, Geoffrey. But he didn't lie and scheme for the sake of amusement or out of absolute malice. He had a motive, a motive strong enough to dispel both his consideration for a sentimental governess he himself had compromised and would disgrace if he did not marry, as well as his affection for a friend whose loyalty to himself he well knew and, therefore, took advantage of: it was the prospect of material comforts and social status, then, that drove Geoffrey Delamayn to leave Anne in the lurch, making a compensation prize of his own friend Arnold for the poor lass (not caring a straw for the fact that Arnold was engaged to Anne's best friend Blanche), since he, Geoffrey, expected an inheritance from his father, so he had to avoid any scandal as a condition to receive it, plus his mother was already securing for him a rich widow for his wife.
Now, back to Hester Dethridge, we learn from her confession that the pain and terror she once endured did not render her a cripple, as she appeared, but rather, as it were, enhanced her perception and provided her with sufficient motive to, on her part, betray Geoffrey at the very end. Like the photographer in the TV series The X-Files (season 6, episode 10, titled "Tithonius") who always arrived at the site of fatal accidents before anyone else had even heard of them, not because he had caused these accidents himself, as the police at first suspected, but because he could 'see' death lurking around and descend upon the chosen of the occasion; like this chap, I say, Hester's eyes were open to death too in the shape of a black figure hovering around certain people. Yet, instead of watching as a mere witness, she felt impelled to play the executor of death's sentences. Yes, there is a supernatural element in Hester's tale; still, the novel that incorporates it does not depart for a single second from the realm of the ordinary, treating commonplace matters (we may account for Hester's actions by declaring her delusional, rather than believing a black figure actually ordained her to terminate the wicked in the world with her own hands). And because of this narrative feat, I apply to Collins a phrase of Goethe's as quoted by Wilde in one of his essays: "It is in working within limits that the master reveals himself."
For my part, as regards the story, scope and style of this particular work, I pronounce Wilkie Collins unmatched in his craft.
October 25, 2023
I'm going to have to go with 3.5 stars/5....rounding down. Four stars is a "this was great, you need to read it" and this just didn't feel that way to me. There WERE many parts where I felt that way, but there were also many parts that dragged this down for me, especially in the first half and there was a big chunk in the 2nd half. I much preferred the second half to the first half though.
There are many characters to "love to hate" and I felt the characterization was really well done. It was interesting to see Scottish marriage laws in action during that time period and the mess people could get into because of those. I plan on reading a few more Collins that I already own to see how this compares to those.
There are many characters to "love to hate" and I felt the characterization was really well done. It was interesting to see Scottish marriage laws in action during that time period and the mess people could get into because of those. I plan on reading a few more Collins that I already own to see how this compares to those.
February 8, 2024
Abandoned at 40%. Not one of his better ones. The story lacked focus at times, not knowing if it wanted to be a sensation novel, a satire about "today's generation" and their focus on physical fitness, or a novel addressing the evils of Scottish marriage laws. I did not care about any of the characters, nor did I find them interesting. Wilkie Collins has written some great novels, but this is not one of them.
June 25, 2013
Man and Wife: http://readwithstyle.wordpress.com/20...
I am glad I am not a woman in the Victorian society! I am glad I have the right to choose whom I marry, to own property, to get my salary, and to tell my husband to f*ck himself if he is a drunkard who beats me. Yes, I still get the inferior judgements by men. I admit the only two things I know about my car are how to drive it and how to put gas. I don’t want to learn anything else. I don’t want to be a man in women shoes and I still believe I am born a woman not to fight my way up like a madman, but I am born to live my own life the way I like it, still being taken care of. I also get the “weird” looks when I tell I want to do investment banking. “It’s a man’s job and a man’s world”. To be honest, I don’t get offended by these comments. I don’t feel overly feministic, I don’t insist men treat me as equal to them. I am not equal to them. I am a woman. I should be taken care of, I should be let NOT to understand stuff like where the hell do you put liquid in your car or how you change your tiers, I don’t understand football and I never will. The only thing I do, I drink beer. So far with my manly habits.
My “problems” seem minor compared to the place of the woman in the Victorian society. Man and Wife by Wilkie Collins explores the inferior position of women in 18th century UK and the problem of irregular marriages in Scotland. Just like in The Woman in White, the amazing Collins portrays strong women and villainous men. With a slight note of English humor (which you will find amusing only if you are actually fond of English humor) Collins criticizes a society found on prejudice, hypocritical moral, and outdated rules, that positions the woman as a servant, as an addition, as a doll, but never as an equal to the man.
Read more: http://readwithstyle.wordpress.com/20...
I am glad I am not a woman in the Victorian society! I am glad I have the right to choose whom I marry, to own property, to get my salary, and to tell my husband to f*ck himself if he is a drunkard who beats me. Yes, I still get the inferior judgements by men. I admit the only two things I know about my car are how to drive it and how to put gas. I don’t want to learn anything else. I don’t want to be a man in women shoes and I still believe I am born a woman not to fight my way up like a madman, but I am born to live my own life the way I like it, still being taken care of. I also get the “weird” looks when I tell I want to do investment banking. “It’s a man’s job and a man’s world”. To be honest, I don’t get offended by these comments. I don’t feel overly feministic, I don’t insist men treat me as equal to them. I am not equal to them. I am a woman. I should be taken care of, I should be let NOT to understand stuff like where the hell do you put liquid in your car or how you change your tiers, I don’t understand football and I never will. The only thing I do, I drink beer. So far with my manly habits.
My “problems” seem minor compared to the place of the woman in the Victorian society. Man and Wife by Wilkie Collins explores the inferior position of women in 18th century UK and the problem of irregular marriages in Scotland. Just like in The Woman in White, the amazing Collins portrays strong women and villainous men. With a slight note of English humor (which you will find amusing only if you are actually fond of English humor) Collins criticizes a society found on prejudice, hypocritical moral, and outdated rules, that positions the woman as a servant, as an addition, as a doll, but never as an equal to the man.
Read more: http://readwithstyle.wordpress.com/20...
March 18, 2020
When it comes to intricate plots, there are few authors who can do them better than Wilkie Collins. The premise of this book was almost ridiculous, and he managed to pull it off. As usual with his novels, the story is gripping from the start, and the lenght of the book is secondary compared to the entertainment value of the read.
In this case, I also appreciated Collins' social commentary. His views on the growing sports culture of the period, and on the contrast between intellectual and physical activity, were fascinating. However, what I most liked were his attacks against marital law, which he argues is unfair to women because it puts them at a disadvantage. Well done, Mr. Collins.
I found the characters less impressive than his more memorable ones, but they were still well drawn. My favourite was Sir Patrick. Hester was also fascinating and I liked the parts which recounted her past story.
In this case, I also appreciated Collins' social commentary. His views on the growing sports culture of the period, and on the contrast between intellectual and physical activity, were fascinating. However, what I most liked were his attacks against marital law, which he argues is unfair to women because it puts them at a disadvantage. Well done, Mr. Collins.
I found the characters less impressive than his more memorable ones, but they were still well drawn. My favourite was Sir Patrick. Hester was also fascinating and I liked the parts which recounted her past story.
June 11, 2025
Wilkie Collins consistently managed to uncover legal and medical curiosities of his time and bring them to his readers' attention through a complex but believable and gripping plot. Man and Wife deals with the case of an unintended marriage, a further case of unintended bigamy, as well as intentional betrayal, revenge, and murder. The position of both unmarried and married women in the Victorian era was not new to me, but reading about it was nonetheless horrifying.
There are many original characters and background stories, wonderful dialogue and a good pace. This novel by Collins is less humorous than his better-known works The Woman in White and The Moonstone, but like any good Collins novel it features several humorous characters to lighten the plot. And Anne Silvester was a most unusual choice for a Victorian heroine!
There are many original characters and background stories, wonderful dialogue and a good pace. This novel by Collins is less humorous than his better-known works The Woman in White and The Moonstone, but like any good Collins novel it features several humorous characters to lighten the plot. And Anne Silvester was a most unusual choice for a Victorian heroine!
February 19, 2018
Nel suo processo di ripubblicazione dell'intera produzione di Collins, la casa editrice Fazi riporta in auge forse l'opera più impegnata, che non solo coinvolge e intrattiene ma si lancia senza esitazioni in una critica sociale tagliente, finalmente in linea con lo stile di vita dello scrittore, sotto molti aspetti anticonformista rispetto ai tempi in cui viveva.
Il titolo originale, Man and wife, già allerta il lettore sul tono del romanzo e l'oggetto della sua critica. Collins non vuole solo polemizzare con le assurde leggi sul matrimonio vigenti in Scozia all'epoca, gioia degli azzeccagarbugli ma forse poco significative per un lettore moderno, ma anche sulla più estesa e pressante questione del ruolo totalmente subordinato della donna nell'istituzione del matrimonio che, per legge, la priva di qualunque diritto di prorpietà e la mette in tutto e per tutto alla mercé del marito, senza possibilità di sottrarsi al suo giogo nemmeno quando questo si rivela un violento con intenti omicidi.
Continua su:
http://www.lastambergadeilettori.com/...
Il titolo originale, Man and wife, già allerta il lettore sul tono del romanzo e l'oggetto della sua critica. Collins non vuole solo polemizzare con le assurde leggi sul matrimonio vigenti in Scozia all'epoca, gioia degli azzeccagarbugli ma forse poco significative per un lettore moderno, ma anche sulla più estesa e pressante questione del ruolo totalmente subordinato della donna nell'istituzione del matrimonio che, per legge, la priva di qualunque diritto di prorpietà e la mette in tutto e per tutto alla mercé del marito, senza possibilità di sottrarsi al suo giogo nemmeno quando questo si rivela un violento con intenti omicidi.
Continua su:
http://www.lastambergadeilettori.com/...
November 3, 2021
Mi primer Wilkie Collins, al que le tenía muchas ganas me ha dejado algo fría pero sin duda con ganas de seguir leyendo al autor.
En esta obra, el autor pretende hacer una crítica social de las leyes matrimoniales imperantes en Escocia en la época, que eran algo arbitrarias, disparatadas y en todo caso desiguales e injustas, dejando a la mujer y los hijos en su caso, en situaciones de verdadero desamparo.
A pesar de eso, la pluma del autor está plagada de machismo así cómo sus personajes, que si bien encuadramos en la época histórica correspondiente, a veces me sangraban los ojos con la lectura.
La primera mitad se me ha hecho pesada y lenta y aunque el final ha cogido ritmo, no he llegado a conectar con ninguno de los personajes que se nos presenta.
Dos amigas casi hermanas, cuyo destino quedará más fuertemente aún enlazado si cabe por vicisitudes del destino (mala suerte).
Tal vez no es la mejor obra del autor, seguiremos leyendo.
En esta obra, el autor pretende hacer una crítica social de las leyes matrimoniales imperantes en Escocia en la época, que eran algo arbitrarias, disparatadas y en todo caso desiguales e injustas, dejando a la mujer y los hijos en su caso, en situaciones de verdadero desamparo.
A pesar de eso, la pluma del autor está plagada de machismo así cómo sus personajes, que si bien encuadramos en la época histórica correspondiente, a veces me sangraban los ojos con la lectura.
La primera mitad se me ha hecho pesada y lenta y aunque el final ha cogido ritmo, no he llegado a conectar con ninguno de los personajes que se nos presenta.
Dos amigas casi hermanas, cuyo destino quedará más fuertemente aún enlazado si cabe por vicisitudes del destino (mala suerte).
Tal vez no es la mejor obra del autor, seguiremos leyendo.
June 19, 2024
La storia prende le mosse dall'assurda legge scozzese sui matrimoni: basta che un uomo e una donna dichiarino di essere marito e moglie per esserlo davvero senza nessun rito. A causa di ciò, Anne Silvester rischia di ritrovarsi sposata con il fidanzato della sua cara amica Blanche. Inizia così una storia piena di intrighi e, che, nella parte finale diventa un thriller che tiene svegli per conoscere il finale. Il personaggio più odiato è stato Geoffrey Delaiman, che compromette Anne e avrebbe dovuto sposarla, invece fa di tutto per farla risultare sposata con Arthur, che per inciso è un suo caro amico. Il personaggio che più mi è piaciuto è stato sir Patrick, zio e tutore di Blanche, uomo ironico e giovane nello spirito. Esilarante il personaggio di Lady Dundie, la matrigna di Blanche e inquietante, invece, la cuoca muta. Libro da leggere.
February 18, 2020
First sentence from the prologue: ON a summer’s morning, between thirty and forty years ago, two girls were crying bitterly in the cabin of an East Indian passenger ship, bound outward, from Gravesend to Bombay.
First sentence from chapter one: THE OWLS. IN the spring of the year eighteen hundred and sixty-eight there lived, in a certain county of North Britain, two venerable White Owls.
Premise/plot: Anne and Blanche are best, best friends. As were the parents--Blanche and Anne. But Anne, both Annes, haven't had the best fortune when it comes to choosing wisely whom to love and trust. One Anne was doomed to die in despair...but will the second Anne suffer the same fate? Or will Blanche and her family prove to be her salvation?!
My thoughts: I first read this one in 2009. It was my first novel by Wilkie Collins. I loved, loved, loved it. I still love, love, love it. My favorite character--and probably the eldest book crush I've ever, ever had--perhaps with the exception of Matthew Cuthbert--is Sir Patrick Lundie. Now, I don't want you to think this book is really a ROMANCE with him as the romantic lead. No, he may be a scene-stealer (at least for this reader!!!) but the romantic lead is played by Arnold Brinkworth, a young man madly, deeply in love with Blanche.
Here is a little love scene between Arnold and Blanche:
[Blanche] could have boxed Arnold on both ears for being so unreasonably afraid of her.
"Well," she said impatiently, "if I did look in your face, what should I see?"
Arnold made another plunge. He answered: "You would see that I want a little encouragement."
"From me?"
"Yes--if you please."
Blanche looked back over her shoulder. The summer-house stood on an eminence, approached by steps. The players on the lawn beneath were audible, but not visible. Any one of them might appear, unexpectedly, at a moment's notice. Blanche listened. There was no sound of approaching footsteps--there was a general hush, and then another bang of the mallet on the ball and then a clapping of hands. Sir Patrick was a privileged person. He had been allowed, in all probability to try again; and he was succeeding at the second effort. This implied a reprieve of some seconds. Blanche looked back again at Arnold.
"Consider yourself encouraged," she whispered and instantly added, with the ineradicable female instinct of self-defense, "within limits!"
Arnold made a last plunge--straight to the bottom, this time.
"Consider yourself loved," he burst out, "without any limits at all."
First sentence from chapter one: THE OWLS. IN the spring of the year eighteen hundred and sixty-eight there lived, in a certain county of North Britain, two venerable White Owls.
Premise/plot: Anne and Blanche are best, best friends. As were the parents--Blanche and Anne. But Anne, both Annes, haven't had the best fortune when it comes to choosing wisely whom to love and trust. One Anne was doomed to die in despair...but will the second Anne suffer the same fate? Or will Blanche and her family prove to be her salvation?!
My thoughts: I first read this one in 2009. It was my first novel by Wilkie Collins. I loved, loved, loved it. I still love, love, love it. My favorite character--and probably the eldest book crush I've ever, ever had--perhaps with the exception of Matthew Cuthbert--is Sir Patrick Lundie. Now, I don't want you to think this book is really a ROMANCE with him as the romantic lead. No, he may be a scene-stealer (at least for this reader!!!) but the romantic lead is played by Arnold Brinkworth, a young man madly, deeply in love with Blanche.
Here is a little love scene between Arnold and Blanche:
[Blanche] could have boxed Arnold on both ears for being so unreasonably afraid of her.
"Well," she said impatiently, "if I did look in your face, what should I see?"
Arnold made another plunge. He answered: "You would see that I want a little encouragement."
"From me?"
"Yes--if you please."
Blanche looked back over her shoulder. The summer-house stood on an eminence, approached by steps. The players on the lawn beneath were audible, but not visible. Any one of them might appear, unexpectedly, at a moment's notice. Blanche listened. There was no sound of approaching footsteps--there was a general hush, and then another bang of the mallet on the ball and then a clapping of hands. Sir Patrick was a privileged person. He had been allowed, in all probability to try again; and he was succeeding at the second effort. This implied a reprieve of some seconds. Blanche looked back again at Arnold.
"Consider yourself encouraged," she whispered and instantly added, with the ineradicable female instinct of self-defense, "within limits!"
Arnold made a last plunge--straight to the bottom, this time.
"Consider yourself loved," he burst out, "without any limits at all."
August 15, 2022
Ma précédente lecture m’avait donné envie de lire un Wilkie, Cryssilda m’a aidé à choisir dans ma PAL en me conseillant Mari et femme. Encore une fois Wilkie me réjouit ! Il pousse même le génie à rendre lisible une intrigue d’une niaiserie affligeante.
L’histoire se résume à un vrai faux mariage écossais, et il est question de savoir si oui ou non Chose est marié avec Bidule, pour que Machin puisse épouser Trucmuche. Dans le fond, on tient l’intrigue de base, sauf que c’est Wilkie Collins qui s’y colle et nous pond une critique virulente de la société victorienne, où la femme faisait partie intégrante des biens de son mari. Réduite à un état proche de l’objet une fois mariée, la femme n’a plus qu’à se taire, obéir à son époux, se faire tabasser et voler le cas échéant, etc. Ajoutons à cela que Collins situe son roman en bonne partie en Écosse, où l’absurdité de la législation en matière de mariage frise l’aberration, et nous avons un roman dense, touffu, riche en rebondissements, très drôle malgré le sujet grave. Le mépris de Collins pour la culture du corps et de la force est ici parfaitement illustré, et tout cet aspect semble très actuel. Les apparences, la force brute prennent le pas sur l’intellect et la culture, et deviennent des valeurs mieux respectées. Triste constat d’une époque que l’auteur n’hésite pas à dénoncer avec un humour jouissif et constant.
Les personnages sont un brin cucul, avouons-le, c’est aussi l’époque qui veut ça, certes, mais Wilkie Collins accentue le trait pour mieux dénoncer l’état des choses, le poids des convenances et des obligations maritales, l’impuissance totale dans laquelle les femmes mariées se retrouvaient.
Ne cherchez pas d’éléments de thriller dans ce roman, vous ne les aurez que dans les cinquante dernières pages, mais quelles pages !
Même si Mari et femme ne sera pas mon préféré, nous avons là une merveille victorienne politiquement incorrecte, un incontournable de Wilkie Collins, sans doute le plus drôle que j’aie lu jusqu’à présent.
L’histoire se résume à un vrai faux mariage écossais, et il est question de savoir si oui ou non Chose est marié avec Bidule, pour que Machin puisse épouser Trucmuche. Dans le fond, on tient l’intrigue de base, sauf que c’est Wilkie Collins qui s’y colle et nous pond une critique virulente de la société victorienne, où la femme faisait partie intégrante des biens de son mari. Réduite à un état proche de l’objet une fois mariée, la femme n’a plus qu’à se taire, obéir à son époux, se faire tabasser et voler le cas échéant, etc. Ajoutons à cela que Collins situe son roman en bonne partie en Écosse, où l’absurdité de la législation en matière de mariage frise l’aberration, et nous avons un roman dense, touffu, riche en rebondissements, très drôle malgré le sujet grave. Le mépris de Collins pour la culture du corps et de la force est ici parfaitement illustré, et tout cet aspect semble très actuel. Les apparences, la force brute prennent le pas sur l’intellect et la culture, et deviennent des valeurs mieux respectées. Triste constat d’une époque que l’auteur n’hésite pas à dénoncer avec un humour jouissif et constant.
Les personnages sont un brin cucul, avouons-le, c’est aussi l’époque qui veut ça, certes, mais Wilkie Collins accentue le trait pour mieux dénoncer l’état des choses, le poids des convenances et des obligations maritales, l’impuissance totale dans laquelle les femmes mariées se retrouvaient.
Ne cherchez pas d’éléments de thriller dans ce roman, vous ne les aurez que dans les cinquante dernières pages, mais quelles pages !
Même si Mari et femme ne sera pas mon préféré, nous avons là une merveille victorienne politiquement incorrecte, un incontournable de Wilkie Collins, sans doute le plus drôle que j’aie lu jusqu’à présent.
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