This novel was like a tempest with my emotions, whipping them about from astonishment to frustration to satisfaction. It is not a book that makes me feel cozy, content, or at ease. I did not feel my heart swell in blissful teary happiness like I do at certain parts in "Jane Eyre". I didn't experience a bombastic adventure like when I read "Moby Dick" last year, lashed to Ishmael like a child and roiling on the ship's deck alongside him. I certainly wasn't strolling amongst the roses and contemplating the virtues of penniless good men versus greedy bad boys like I do with Jane Austen, her novels so quippy and satiric I smirk at every other line. It's not a book to tuck in my travel suitcase and relax with on an airplane.
It's a stormy book, like the lightning that inspires Emily to scribble her 'Verses.' If this is an accurate depiction of her personality, then she is like no other woman writer I've come across. Save for maybe that other wild Emily, the black-haired girl on the moors who dared write "Wuthering Heights" and died at the age of 30.
But this Emily of Amherst, the Queen Recluse, gives away no secrets and asks more questions than she answers. Through Jerome Charyn's eyes, she is and will always be the supreme American enigma. She never fully steps into her own life - she dances around others' stronger personalities, she slips softly down the hallway next to the rooms where the action is, she is a silent witness to the events of her time period, she wrestles with inner demons she never shares, she writes poetry she rarely reveals.
Even though she was a fantastic poet (and I honor her as one of the best female writers - period), my inner 19th century historian bristled. Perhaps I read too much of the Concord writers (Thoreau, Emerson, Louisa, Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller), but I found myself asking - why didn't Emily get involved in the world around her? She was living in a time of massive upheaval socio-politically and culturally. It's the Civil War era, for goodness' sakes. Did not slavery, abolition, states' rights, Transcendentalism, the Temperance movement, or womens' rights get under her skin - at all? The hanging of John Brown, the Dred Scott case, Charles Sumner beaten in Congress, the passing of the 19th amendment, Lincoln's election, the horrific war itself ...
1850's Massachusetts, Emily's stomping ground, was a hotbed of social activity. Lucy Stone and Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Margaret Fuller and Louisa May Alcott championed womens' rights. Louisa was the first woman to vote in Concord. Frederick Douglass was going from town to town rallying everyone to the cause. Every writer became involved, from Thoreau championing John Brown to Longfellow's son involved in the Civil War to Melville's battle poetry. Even a Quaker like Whittier wrote about the war, and Hawthorne's visit to the White House to visit Lincoln is an excellent portrait of the president. You could NOT escape the war. It was everywhere and affected everyone.
In the novel Emily's war begins in 1864, long after the first shots at Fort Sumter or the first dead boys at Bull Run. I found it the most frustrating absence in the book, for I longed to know how she felt about the whole shebang. Everyone else definitely had an opinion! The only true feeling was that she was upset her father paid $500 to have someone go fight in the place of her brother Austin. "Rich man's war, poor man's fight" became the phrase still echoed today.
As a historian, it ruffled my feathers to think an educated, intelligent lawyer's and Congressman's daughter would be as removed from the biggest American event of her lifetime as Charyn writes her to be. She is almost completely silent, which has me scratching my head. Was that Charyn's decision or is that the way she really was? I shall have to go a-digging and find out. It's a baffling mystery to me, and I must research that further.
The writing is the best part of the novel, and I encourage any would-be novelist to read it just to experience the turns of phrase, the descriptions, and the sheer inhabitance of being Emily Dickinson. I'm definitely the type of reader to go back and reread books, especially the amazing ones like this one. I struggled with massive novelist envy, not going to lie! This is not a relaxing book to read - it jumbles all your emotions - but you are in the hands of a literary master, and that brandishes its own awe. I spend so much time correcting other writers' sentences in my head as I read, that when I find a book where I don't do that, it becomes a favorite. This novel certainly lived up to a literary girl's expectation of brilliance and hope for good writing.
If the real Emily Dickinson had entered my brain long ago when I first read her Verses, then this Charyn Emily firmly cemented her enough to baffle me, confound me, frustrate me, and jam-pack my head with questions and more questions about her. I want to plunk her tiny white-dressed self in a chair and bombard her with firebolts because I want to know more!
Why did she start writing Verses to begin with? Who inspired her? In the novel, she talks a great deal about "Jane Eyre" and Charlotte Bronte, but what other books did she read? She mentions Shakespeare, but what kind of influence did he have on her? What was her favorite play of his? She mentions "Cleopatra," but what about others? And what about her creative process? It isn't just lightning in the brain, or is it? She writes so much about death and she experienced great loss in her life. The same themes come up over and over in her work ... But what can she teach me about writing that I cannot already glean from her Poems? I guess I can chalk it all up to Emily the enigma. But somehow, that is unsatisfying and confusing.
Or is my confusion about this novel a reflection upon my own expectations of her character, for I had always pictured a girl similar to Jane Austen in general wit and temperament? She has some things in common with Jane, like their mutual love of gardening and flowers, their general attitude towards writing, and the striking double-sister relationship they shared - Jane with Cassandra and Emily with Lavinia (Vinnie). Louisa May Alcott, for that matter, also had extremely close sisterly relationships. It was quite common in the 19th century, as per the 'separate spheres' lifestyle where ladies and gentlemen were brought up under completely different gender-specific circumstances. This might explain why I found Emily's relationship with Austin so distant and different.
I didn't 'like' Emily in the same sense that I like Jane Eyre or Lizzie Bennett or Jo March. She fascinated me, in much the same way her sister-in-law Sue fascinated her. The more I read, the more I longed to get closer, but she was forever hidden, peeping between sentences or slipping away after chapter endings. I couldn't quite catch on to her, despite her being quite distinctive. After reading Charyn's novel, who wouldn't recognize her and yet not know her at the same time? Emily the Enigma indeed.
To further the enigma, the novel doesn't reveal who really was a love in her life, outside of a made-up character named Tom who wouldn't fascinate a woman of her intelligence. I found him a poor match, uninspiring, and not as compelling as the men in other women writers' lives. She seemed more interested in his blond hair and blue eyes than any other feature, like his mental aptitude to match hers. Am I being too blunt when I say smart women seek smart men? It certainly is true for this writer! I liked the Brainard Rowe character more for this reason, and was sorry to see him disappear from her life. I had hoped he was the one in Boston, but it was Tom again.
The other fictional character, Zilpah Marsh, was a fascinating look into the downward spiral of a woman in 19th century Amherst ... but was she a good foil for Emily the enigma? Would the real Emily Dickinson have cared so much about someone like her? And if she did - did she also care about the contraband slaves escaping North through Massachusetts? Did she also care about helping women better their conditions, like Dickens helped the poor of London? Again, the lack of social awareness confounds me. Perhaps I can find other intelligent educated women like her who didn't notice or participate in the Civil War. It's mind-boggling to me.
I'm also intrigued about Emily's relationship with her mother, for it is the thinnest and most waifish in the novel. I couldn't pick her mother out of a lineup and after reading, don't really know what Emily thought of her mother. I've rarely met a woman who doesn't at least have a strong opinion about her mother one way or another. The relationship she had with her parents was so Father-heavy that her mother faded into the background. I found the absence strange and disturbing.
The novel's strongest chapters are its final ones, after the war when Emily violently struggles with a deep depression that worsens after her father's death. Her father was my favorite character, a stern man who had a complicated, shifting relationship with a daughter he simultaneously viewed as a helpless 'mermaid' and a fiercely intelligent extension of himself. He must have known she got the brains in the family and none of the reluctance to use them, unlike her brother Austin. After his death, Emily is haunted by his commands, which she dutifully followed in life.
But duty to a father, no matter how large he loomed in her mind as the 'earl' of Amherst, still does not explain why Charyn's Emily was the way she was. I can't make heads or tails of it. She has something to teach me, as a fellow writer and a woman of my favorite time period, but I'm still wrestling with what that is.
Would she want me to be both wild and dutiful, too? Would she want me to tiptoe around the rooms in which everything is happening? Would she want me to hang my heart on a man whose character was so disdainful? Would she want my pen to be silent about the current events in my time? I can't even tell if she liked being Queen Recluse or not. To be a recluse I'd have to shun variety of scene - and I could never! I'm far too restless.
While I struggle with Emily the Enigma Writer, I do recognize parts of myself in Emily the Enigma Personality. I can be wickedly blunt, and my childhood is littered with examples of headstrong back-talk to my parents. I have always been outspoken about something I feel passionately about. I loved the parts of the novel where she roamed about the hills and fields with her beloved Newfie Carlo, for I, too, have a life filled with canine companions who do not leave my side. I have stumbled and fallen into dark holes, beset on all sides from the crumbling debris of my own false beliefs.
I also spend an extraordinary amount of time with a poet, albeit of a completely different nature. For eight years, I have given tours at the Longfellow House in Portland. Henry grew up in a house similar to Emily, in a large family, with a lawyer for a father. Yet he participated in the life around him - was that because he was a man? He also formed such a strong bond with the young country's history that it's everywhere in his Verses. Henry the poet was no enigma. He easily reaches across the centuries - and Emily does not. She holds back.
So, may all who read this novel expect an exultation of Emily’s enigma-ness and not a revelation of her secrets. Charyn undertook an enormous task, and his literary talents speak for themselves. He succeeded in creating an unputdownable novel that was fiercely honest in its portrait of the subject, even if that subject is an enigma. I was fascinated right up until the last page, compelled to follow her journey from Holyoke to inner holy terrors.
I’ll pick it up again in five or six years, and see what I think then!