October 2026 - The Collector > Likes and Comments
I've read this book before so I'm going to revisit it on audio. There is a new audiobook version being released on Audible this Tuesday, September 22nd, fortuitously.
I love The Collector! I’ve read it twice and seen the movie several times.
I’ll be in this! I can get this from my library via Hoopla!
I'm joining this discussion - had this on my Kobo for ages
I’ve read this before but will be joining too. I would like to revisit it on audio because I have a long drive in October. Looking forward to the discussion!
I have also read it twice. It's not so long, and I think it is a great novel, especially for how it stayed in my mind over the years since I first found it (early 90s). But I'm not sure I want to revisit it when I have a lot of books on my plate right now.For example, I have just finished What We Become by Arturo Perez-Reverte, with can be considered a riff on the theme from To Catch a Thief with some aging blues thrown in.
I read this about 45-50 years ago. It was, I think, my first introduction to Psychological Thrillers. Have had the movie for sometime, but not gotten around to watching it. Terence Stamp in the lead role, if I'm not mistaken.
It looks like we've got a great mix of readers joining us—some discovering the novel for the first time, others returning to a book they first read decades ago. As we get started, what are your first impressions? For those reading The Collector for the first time, what do you make of Frederick so far? And for those revisiting it, is the book hitting you differently this time around?
Anything surprise you in the opening pages—or immediately make you think, "Oh, this is going to get dark"?
Jump in whenever you're ready, and as always, please be careful with spoilers for anyone reading behind you.
It’s been over a decade since I read this and had completely forgotten how it begins. The quiet awkward voyeur noticing a girls beauty, her hair, then the growing obsession with her. But not really her, his fantasy of her. This inability to see another as an individual with feelings and opinions of their own. It becomes disturbing almost before you realize what’s happening.
I was disgusted by Frederick's self-serving arguments for keeping the girl a prisoner right from the start, and it was only Fowles talent as a writer that kept me reading
At times we read books that don’t quite fit the pulp fiction or noir genre, The Collector falls into this, but…I’m a third of the way in and yes, we have a bit of pulp. It’s brief, I’ll take it. As to Algernon’s point, I can’t imagine anything other than there being self-serving motivations,
Fredericks POV is interesting, despite how wrong his thinking is. The reader can see his delusion. What process goes on in the mind of an obsessed man who follows through with a fantasy. Of all people to win big from the lottery, this guy! It enables him to do his worst. It’s also interesting to see how the idea of sex is treated, that it’s worse from his perspective than abduction. Maybe influenced by conservative ideas in the early 1960s?
Conservative ideas about sex I mean. Society would see kidnapping as wrong, of course, no matter the century/ decade (unless you’re a Frederick)
As the story develops, you can easily find yourself making consessions (for want of a better word I can’t quite find right now) for his actions: yes he abducted her, but he is being kind in his own way; at least he hasn’t raped her. That somehow, he’s being true to the sensibilities of a true collector by admiring and observing his beautiful specimen. We think the worse thing that can happen to her has already happened, until the next thing happens.
A bit late to join but, just starting reading this today :)
We're coming up on the end of our first week with The Collector. How's everyone doing? Has anyone made it to Part Two yet?For those who have, one of the things I find most interesting is the change in narrators. We've spent Part One inside Frederick's head, seeing everything through his peculiar understanding of the world. Now we get another perspective on some of those same events. Does hearing Miranda's side change the way you see Frederick? Or does it simply confirm what you already suspected?
On this revisit, I'm also noticing how much Fowles is playing with ideas of freedom, identity, and the way we define ourselves in relation to other people. There's an almost existentialist quality to it: two people trapped in the same situation but experiencing entirely different realities. And there's a fascinating duality in the way Fowles constructs their opposing perspectives. I'm curious whether anyone else is picking up on those threads—or seeing something completely different.
Let's keep the discussion to Parts One and Two for roughly another week, so everyone has a chance to catch up before we get into spoilers for Parts Three and Four. If you're already finished, feel free to join in, but please don't give away what's coming!
Ivy wrote: "Fredericks POV is interesting, despite how wrong his thinking is. The reader can see his delusion. What process goes on in the mind of an obsessed man who follows through with a fantasy. Of all peo..."Ivy, I think you've hit on something important with your distinction between Frederick's obsession with Miranda and his obsession with his idea of Miranda. He doesn't seem particularly interested in discovering who she actually is. And your observation about his attitude toward sex is something that I noticed too. There's a strange moral hierarchy at work in his mind, where he can convince himself that certain boundaries are sacred while completely disregarding others.
Algernon wrote: "I was disgusted by Frederick's self-serving arguments for keeping the girl a prisoner right from the start, and it was only Fowles talent as a writer that kept me reading"I agree that Frederick's rationalizations are infuriating, and I think they're part of what makes Fowles so effective. He doesn't simply give us a monster; he gives us someone who has constructed an elaborate explanation for why he isn't one.
Patty wrote: "As the story develops, you can easily find yourself making consessions (for want of a better word I can’t quite find right now) for his actions: yes he abducted her, but he is being kind in his own..."Patty, your point about the concessions readers can find themselves making is especially unsettling. I think Fowles knows exactly what he's doing there. We can recognize that Frederick is behaving monstrously while still catching ourselves evaluating him according to the standards he has established for his own behavior. That's a pretty uncomfortable place for an author to put his readers!
Lawrence wrote: "At times we read books that don’t quite fit the pulp fiction or noir genre, The Collector falls into this, but…I’m a third of the way in and yes, we have a bit of pulp. It’s brief, I’ll take it. As..."I'm interested in your point about whether this really qualifies as pulp or noir. It certainly borrows some of the machinery of a crime thriller, but Fowles seems much more interested in what happens inside his characters' heads than in the mechanics of the crime itself. I'd be curious to hear whether your opinion changes as you get further along.
David wrote: "A bit late to join but, just starting reading this today :)"David, welcome aboard! You're not too late. We're just getting warmed up.
Miranda’s POV: Her pretentiousness is a common phase the young art student goes through, IMHO, combined with classism (kinda typical of British upper middle-class upbringing), but she is also sharp and perceptive. While the reader battled against sympathizing with Frederick at times in the first half, through Miranda’s eyes we start to get a clearer picture of him. How distorted his perspective and how completely self centered he is. Although Miranda isn’t likable at first, it was easy for me to empathize with her. Is that because I raised two girls and my mind automatically concedes the immaturity, knows to see beneath some of the offputting words into the good intentions behind them?
Fowles really MANIFESTS the story of Miranda. By that I mean he purposefully accents her shortcomings and immature views so that the reality of her individuality and her terrible situation is made clear. It sets the scene for her gradual evolution. Reading part two, I was struggling with feeling heartbroken and worried for her, increasingly frustrated with FrederICK.
Miranda being unlikable changes the usual dichotomy of victim vs. perpetrator. Quite refreshing.
The main topic that I feel runs through both viewpoints so far is the British class system. Something that, though it should not actually exist anymore, is still pertinent and relevant today. More so than explicitly referenced in day-to-day life in the modern day, the themes of not being good enough, being self-critical, imposter syndrome, and snobbery with regards to wealth and culture (including inverted snobbery and resentment) are definitely prevalent today imho.The way Frederick is very matter-of-fact about the kidnapping and imprisonment is very disturbing and creates a parallel to the collecting of butterflies. It makes him very cold and dispassionate imho that he speaks of collecting butterflies but seems to have no particular passion or appreciation of beauty. They are just things to collect and could just have easily been stamps, buttons, etc. This brings into focus the fact that now he has a living thing (a person) that he doesn't quite know what to do with. The tying and gagging of Miranda to me shows that he is much more comfortable with the pinned butterflies than any interaction.
That jars slightly with some of the conversations they have where they both banter in sarcasm which, I think, ties back into the class topic I mentioned above. A very British passive-aggressive trait.
I'd be interested to know if anyone else feels similar. And, if you are a reader from outside the UK, whether classism is familiar to you?
I'm intrigued to find out how this will all play out in the end. It has been a surprisingly good read so far. I thought it might be quite dated and, in some aspects it is but, a mentioned above, I feel the themes are still relevant.
Ivy wrote: "Miranda’s POV: Her pretentiousness is a common phase the young art student goes through, IMHO, combined with classism (kinda typical of British upper middle-class upbringing), but she is also shar..."
That's a really good point. It made me think of an interesting aspect that I found across the two sections: part one dehumanises Miranda as a specimen through Frederick's view, whereas Miranda's section shows she is human. She is fallible, layered, and unfiltered in her thoughts - in a way her thoughts are far more free than Frederick's self-constrained thoughts. He denies himself constantly.
Patty wrote: "Miranda being unlikable changes the usual dichotomy of victim vs. perpetrator. Quite refreshing."Really interesting that you find her unlikeable. As per my other comment. I actually found her to be a more rounded out character, more human than Frederick. I sort of like the fact she's young, a bit silly, opinionated, and learning how to handle life as an adult. Fowles creates a distinctive voice for her really well imho.
David, I need to rephrase what I said. She’s the opposite of what women victims usually are which flips the trope of the demure and innocent gothic heroine. What makes her “unlikable” (bad word choice) is her effect on our perceptions.
Patty wrote: "David, I need to rephrase what I said. She’s the opposite of what women victims usually are which flips the trope of the demure and innocent gothic heroine. What makes her “unlikable” (bad word cho..."ah, I see! yes, exactly - great point :)
David wrote: "The main topic that I feel runs through both viewpoints so far is the British class system. Something that, though it should not actually exist anymore, is still pertinent and relevant today. More ..."David, I think you've identified one of the major undercurrents of the novel. What's particularly interesting to me is that Frederick seems to both admire and resent the very qualities that attract him to Miranda. He puts her on a pedestal while simultaneously resenting the social and cultural world she represents.
And the two of them seem almost incapable of speaking the same language, even when they're having a perfectly ordinary conversation. They have fundamentally different ideas about love, beauty, freedom, and what it means to appreciate something.
I also agree with your observation about the butterflies. Frederick seems more comfortable possessing something than actually experiencing it; a pretty frightening characteristic in someone who has decided to start collecting people!
Patty wrote: "David, I need to rephrase what I said. She’s the opposite of what women victims usually are which flips the trope of the demure and innocent gothic heroine. What makes her “unlikable” (bad word cho..."I'm enjoying this exchange about Miranda, particularly Patty's observation about how she subverts the traditional innocent, demure victim.
Fowles allows Miranda to be pretentious, judgmental, immature, and occasionally irritating without diminishing the horror of her situation. She's a fully realized person rather than simply an object of our sympathy which, of course, is exactly what Frederick seems incapable of recognizing.
And David makes a fascinating point about freedom. Miranda is physically imprisoned, yet her thoughts are far more adventurous and expansive than Frederick's. He's the one who can walk out the door whenever he likes, but in some ways his mental world is much more confined.
There's a wonderful irony in that contrast.
Something else that's been striking me on this reread is how Fowles has constructed Frederick and Miranda almost as opposites. Order versus spontaneity, possession versus experience, emotional repression versus emotional expression. At times they seem like two halves of a personality that have been separated and placed in the same room.But I'm also wondering how independent Miranda really is in her thinking. We've spent a lot of time discussing Frederick's obsession with her, but what about her relationship with G.P.? How much of her worldview is genuinely her own, and how much has been shaped by someone whose approval she desperately wants?
I'm not suggesting those relationships are morally equivalent, obviously. But I do wonder whether Fowles is exploring different ways people can surrender their independence—or try to impose their will on someone else.
Curious what everyone thinks.
RJ - Slayer of Trolls wrote: "Something else that's been striking me on this reread is how Fowles has constructed Frederick and Miranda almost as opposites. Order versus spontaneity, possession versus experience, emotional repr..."Ooh, great perspective and question - that really got me thinking!
I feel there is definitely a Svengali relationship there with GP. He seems so aloof and almost disdainful of her, so it came as a bit of a shock when he professed his love for her. To the point where I thought that it was not love that he truly meant. I think he was trying to cling on to or rediscover the naivety of youth. In a way I think that was the gift and the curse of Miranda - she was a great example of naive idealism with dreams and aspirations but, all the same, she was having all of those ideals thrown into doubt by GP. I think, because, he had experienced his own dreams and aspirations remaining unfulfilled and become cynical. In a way, I think he loved her and loathed her.
For Miranda's part, I think she wanted to have what she perceived as GPs sophistication (personally I don't think it was sophistication at all, it was deep rooted unhappiness) and for her to climb the social and artistic ladder so she could critique and make statements of art and life that would be listened to as a peer or authority, rather than the hollow ramblings of a little girl. I think she knew this, so the "love & loathe" dynamic was also present for her with regards to GP.
Overall, I felt it made for a stilted affair of not quite living up to what love could/should be and the two of them communicating on totally different wavelengths. Not dissimilar to Miranda & Frederick.
As the lone female in this discussion—are there any others out there?—I’d like to take a side trip to what it’s like to be a girl. Girls and women are often objectified to the point of becoming, well, objects. Sexualized, scrutinized, victimized, dehumanized, Madonna/whore. In the 1960s—when this book was written—the feminist revolution was gaining traction (we haven’t gotten very far, have we?). Frederick collects beautiful butterflies; objects he can contain, observe, enjoy. They have no purpose beyond his wants. They have no agency, and neither does Miranda.
What he is doing with her is not that far from what society does to women every day.
Umm, Patty… 👋 woman right over here, who’s been pretty involved in the discussion! Haha! Yes I agree Miranda could be seen as a metaphor for all women who’ve been objectified, valued for their appearance, having their identities defined by others, and stripped of their autonomy. I wouldn’t read her as only a symbol, bc it risks doing something like what Clegg does, making her into an idea. Miranda’s situation is extreme- she’s not just a woman who experiences sexism. She is a girl held captive by a man with the means to do it, and that extremity makes it possible for Fowles to reveal what it means to be possessed. Which brings the topic back around to classism in a way.
Miranda’s passion for this older art teacher is interesting too. GP is an incredible snob, also a letch, flirting with a student twenty years his junior. She isn’t even sexually attracted to him. The passion is about his creative mind, I think. She’s kind of obsessed with him, as Frederick was for her, but with less ick. I also agree with David- she may see him as a way into the art scene, a stepping stone toward her goals.
Sorry, Ivy. I knew it when I wrote it that I was wrong.
Well, we're getting into the home stretch of October, and I think it's time to open up the discussion to the entire book, including the ending.**SPOILER WARNING: From this point forward, we'll be discussing all four parts of The Collector, so if you haven't finished yet, proceed at your own risk!**
We've already had some terrific discussion about Frederick and Miranda, their very different perspectives, the role of class, and the relationships between possession, obsession, and freedom. But I'm especially interested in what everyone makes of the ending.
Did it surprise you? Did it change your understanding of Frederick, or simply confirm what you'd suspected about him all along? And what did you make of those final pages? Does Frederick learn anything from what has happened, or is he fundamentally incapable of changing?
For those who've finished, how did you feel about the book overall? And for anyone still reading, don't feel like you've missed the party. We've still got plenty of October left, and I'd love to keep the conversation going.
David wrote: "RJ - Slayer of Trolls wrote: "Something else that's been striking me on this reread is how Fowles has constructed Frederick and Miranda almost as opposites. Order versus spontaneity, possession ver..."David, I really like your suggestion that G.P. might be attracted to Miranda partly because she represents the youthful idealism he's lost. That hadn't occurred to me quite that way, but it makes a lot of sense. And I agree with Ivy that there's something distinctly unpleasant about the way he exercises his influence over her.
What interests me is that Miranda seems to recognize some of G.P.'s shortcomings, yet she keeps returning to him as a kind of intellectual and artistic authority. She wants to become her own person, but she's still looking to someone else to tell her what that person should be.
And there's another irony here. Frederick idolizes Miranda without really understanding her, while Miranda idolizes G.P. despite recognizing some of his faults. Obviously these aren't equivalent relationships, but I wonder whether Fowles is deliberately inviting us to notice the similarities.
I also wonder what Miranda might have become if she'd been given the opportunity to grow beyond G.P.'s influence. We get glimpses of a young woman who's beginning to question some of her own assumptions, and that's one of the things that makes her fate so tragic.
Patty wrote: "...Girls and women are often objectified to the point of becoming..."Ivy wrote: "Miranda’s passion for this older art teacher is interesting too. GP is an incredible snob, also a letch, flirting with a student twenty years his junior. She isn’t even sexually attracted to him. T..."
Patty, I think you've touched on something fundamental to the novel. Frederick's treatment of Miranda is an extreme example of something much more familiar: reducing another human being to an object whose value is determined entirely by what someone else wants from them.
And Ivy, I particularly like your observation that treating Miranda purely as a symbol of women's objectification risks doing something similar to what Frederick does. That's an interesting paradox, especially in a novel so concerned with the difference between a real person and someone else's idea of that person.
It also makes me think about the butterfly collection again. Frederick can preserve the appearance of beauty, but only by destroying the living thing that made it beautiful in the first place. There's something horribly appropriate about that as a metaphor for his relationship with Miranda.
And it raises another question: how much of Frederick's behavior is specifically about his attitudes toward women, and how much reflects his more general inability to recognize other people as independent individuals? I suspect Fowles wants us to consider both.
I finished this and the ending definitely surprised me. The ultimate ending with Frederick was absolutely chilling.
My thoughts on the ending— It’s almost as though Frederick were born to this. Losing his father, abandoned by his mother, collecting insects helped him with the loss. His uncle and aunt fulfilled the need for food, shelter and a little connection. It’s possible the abandonment triggered something in his personality that made him less empathetic and more obsessive. This is how the end makes sense to me. All through part 3, I was screaming inside, “Just take her to the hospital and drop her off! It’s simple!” And he comes to that idea but too late. His character is frustrating! He is stupid in ways that matter and cunning in ways that are harmful. I also noticed he played the victim at times, while victimizing Miranda- so ironic. Because of money, he was allowed to indulge in his obsession and it will only get worse… until he’s caught. This story definitely sticks to you.
It’s a tragedy. Especially after following Miranda’s story- Imprisonment helped her see the beauty and love in her life with clearer eyes. She finds gratitude, appreciates her family more. Emerging from her teens, when she gave her mother a hard time, if she could see her again she imagines overwhelming her mother with love now. These connections become more important and art a little less so at times. She describes drawing the horizon, a simple line low on the paper, leaving the sky open above so most of the paper is blank. Her longing for freedom is in this description.
Ivy wrote: "My thoughts on the ending— It’s almost as though Frederick were born to this. Losing his father, abandoned by his mother, collecting insects helped him with the loss. His uncle and aunt fulfilled..."
absolutely wonderful summation
Ivy wrote: "My thoughts on the ending— It’s almost as though Frederick were born to this. Losing his father, abandoned by his mother, collecting insects helped him with the loss. His uncle and aunt fulfilled..."
Ivy, I really like your observation about Miranda's changing priorities, especially that image of the horizon. It's a beautiful little detail, and all the more heartbreaking when we know how her story ends.
Something that's been striking me throughout this reread is how differently the two characters respond to their circumstances. Miranda is physically imprisoned, yet she continues to grow and change. She questions her beliefs, reevaluates her relationships, and begins to appreciate things she'd previously taken for granted. Frederick, meanwhile, has all the freedom in the world, particularly after his lottery win, but seems incapable of any meaningful personal growth.
And that makes the ending especially chilling. Miranda's imprisonment leads her toward a greater understanding of life, while Frederick's experience seems only to have taught him how to become a more effective captor.
I also think your point about his playing the victim is important. He has an extraordinary ability to see himself as the injured party, even while inflicting terrible suffering on someone else. It makes me wonder how much he genuinely believes his own excuses and how much is deliberate self-deception.
David wrote: "I finished this and the ending definitely surprised me. The ultimate ending with Frederick was absolutely chilling."David, I agree. What really got me wasn't just what happened to Miranda, but how quickly Frederick seemed able to move on to the possibility of doing it all over again.
I'm curious—did you expect him to show some genuine remorse by the end, or had you already concluded that he was incapable of it?
I think Fowles leaves us with something even more disturbing than a conventional villain: someone who can learn from his mistakes without ever recognizing what the real mistake was.
Fredrick had a lot of trauma as a child: dad dies, mom abandons him, and he is brought up by people who most likely never bonded with him or cared for him. This is what can manifest as narcissistic tendencies and Borderline Personality Disorder (I delve into this rabbit hole more than I would like to admit). It’s who Frederick is, and, like the vast majority of criminals, it is what makes him incapable of caring and feeling. Is he worth our empathy? Is he really responsible for his actions in a legal sense?
RJ - Slayer of Trolls wrote: "David wrote: "I finished this and the ending definitely surprised me. The ultimate ending with Frederick was absolutely chilling."David, I agree. What really got me wasn't just what happened to M..."
The ending definitely threw me a curve ball - I sort of expected Frederick to be horrified by what happened but, alas, no - it was just a lesson learned so he could do it better next time. It certainly made me realise that this was not a one-off moment of madness - instead it is a compulsion
I’m glad I’ve not been getting update notifications on this thread, I’ve got about a third of a way to go to finish before I catch up and comment…
All these comments inspire me to revisit the novel. I did this with The Magus recently, and I liked it much better than I did in my early 20s.As I said, I didn't buy into Frederick's self-serving arguments, but it is true that Miranda had her own issues: all this is proof of the talent of Fowles to add layers to a simple, straightforward crime story.
Patty wrote: "..."Is he worth our empathy? Is he really responsible for his actions in a legal sense?Patty, that's a great question. How much of Frederick's behavior is the product of his upbringing, and how much comes down to the choices he makes?
We can certainly feel some sympathy for the lonely, neglected child he once was without feeling much sympathy for the man he becomes. There's an important distinction between understanding why someone behaves as they do and excusing that behavior.
What makes the ending especially disturbing to me is that Frederick never seriously questions whether he had the right to imprison Miranda in the first place. Instead, he recognizes what went wrong with his scheme and starts thinking about how to avoid those mistakes in the future.
Is he incapable of recognizing right from wrong, or is he simply very good at convincing himself that the rules don't apply to him?
The Collector begins with Frederick Clegg, a lonely, socially isolated young man whose great passion is collecting butterflies. When an unexpected change in his circumstances gives him the means to pursue another longstanding obsession—a beautiful young art student named Miranda—Frederick develops a plan to make her part of his collection as well. That's about all you need to know going in. Fowles takes a premise that could easily have become a conventional crime thriller and turns it into something much more psychologically intimate and disturbing, establishing many of the concerns with control, perception, manipulation, and freedom that would continue to appear in his later work.
That also makes The Collector just about perfect for our October After Dark theme. There are no ghosts, demons, vampires, or supernatural monsters waiting for us here. Instead, Fowles asks us to spend time with something potentially much more unsettling: obsession stripped of romance, possession mistaken for love, and the frightening possibilities that emerge when an apparently ordinary human being decides that wanting something badly enough gives him the right to have it. Some nightmares don't need the supernatural.
Whether this is your first encounter with Fowles or an old favorite you're revisiting, please join us and let us know what you think as you read. As always, feel free to comment on characters, themes, writing, suspicions, frustrations, or anything else that catches your attention along the way—just remember to clearly mark any spoilers for those reading behind you. Welcome to The Collector. Let's see what Fowles has waiting for us in the basement.
Here's a picture of Fowles hanging out by the Swiss Family Robinson Treehouse.