Classics and the Western Canon discussion

My first impression: This book is charmingly different from any other novel I have read, and I am trying to figure out what makes it so likable.

Yours?

Who is your favorite character so far, and why?

I like the mother the most so far; she prevented her husband from naming either of their daughters 'Grissel'.

So far I also find this book quite charming. It feels very light-hearted despite the seriousness of the events (e.g. losing their fortune). Although, a quick perusal of some of the reviews of this book here on GR brought up a question that I thought very interesting. Is Goldsmith being ironic with his portrayal of the characters/events or is he genuinely trying to be so light-hearted? Does he have a deeper meaning or this the 18th century version of a 'beach read'?

Laurel, I totally agree with you. This is such a different book. I can't find one character I like or identity with more than others. The first few chapters seem to paint a very nice family you would want to visit.

Yet, they are not without flaws or sneaky ways of doing things:

The vicar is charitable and kind to those in need, but he knows how to get rid of undesirables. He "loans" them a riding coat, a pair of boots, or a horse of small value. They never return (chapter 1).

The vicar's idea of only one wife is hilarious. He wrote her epitaph for his wife while she was living and hung it as a reminder. It served double duty: admonished his wife of her duty to him and his fidelity to her! What a way to build a relationship.

However, it is the way it is written that makes this so pleasurable a read. He describes his quirks as if it was the most natural and right way of living, thinking and being.

I also haven't had a character strike a chord with me as of yet, to say it is a favorite. I did laugh at the two girls obediently without a fuss changing out of their finery to something more in keeping with their new status. No girls I know would do that now without some sort of argument, or behavior indicating resentment, unwillingness, being "put-out" etc!

Although charming, The writing of thoughts and conversations were so stiff & formal in that time, I have to really work at putting myself in that time & place to enjoy the narrative.

Tiffany wrote: "I like the mother the most so far; she prevented her husband from naming either of their daughters 'Grissel'.

So far I also find this book quite charming. It feels very light-hearted despite the s..."

Excellent question about whether Goldsmith is writing straight or ironically, Tiffany. We need to discuss this now and as we read further.

Brit wrote: "Laurel, I totally agree with you. This is such a different book. I can't find one character I like or identity with more than others. The first few chapters seem to paint a very nice family you wou..."

Brit, you found my favorite parts!

Chris wrote: "Although charming, The writing of thoughts and conversations were so stiff & formal in that time, I have to really work at putting myself in that time & place to enjoy the narrative. "

That's interesting. I'm finding it a very pleasant, comfortable read. On the surface it seems almost simplistic, but when I read this section a second time I began to see depths that I had missed on the first read.

One aspect I really like is what seems to me to be a very accurate picture of the life of the early 19th century. For example, even when they are reduced in circumstances to 15 pounds a year, they are still able to maintain a servant. To a modern reader that may seem incredible, but from what I know of the time period servants for the lower classes, especially in rural areas, were essentially dirt cheap, working mostly for food, girls going out into service to spare their families the need to keep feeding them.

Chris wrote: "I also haven't had a character strike a chord with me as of yet, to say it is a favorite. "

I share this. So far it seems to me to be more a novel of family and family circumstances than a novel of individuals. Nobody really stands out that much as a well developed individual, although along with Tiffany I do like the mother, who seems to hold the family together sensibly (except for the church finery!)

Brit wrote: The vicar is charitable and kind to those in need, but he knows how to get rid of undesirables. He "loans" them a riding coat, a pair of boots, or a horse of small value. "

I loved this trick. I wish I had known about it back in the days when we had more family visiting -- there were a few I would have been quite happy to have loaned something minor to if they would never have come back to return it. Better than a garage sale for getting rid of stuff you don't want.

Everyman wrote: "I share this. So far it seems to me to be more a novel of family and family circumstances than a novel of individuals..."

I wonder if it comes across like this because the vicar, as the narrator, presents his perspective with such singularity. The formal style of the prose makes the narrative seem objective, but the point-of-view is subjective. It tells us a lot about the man telling us the story. The simplicity and harmoniousness of the story and the family is to a significant degree the characteristics of the vicar and the attitude he takes toward life. He's such a good-natured stoic that his character colors the world he narrates accordingly.

Brit wrote: "Laurel, I totally agree with you. This is such a different book. I can't find one character I like or identity with more than others. The first few chapters seem to paint a very nice family you wou..."

Laurel wrote: "My first impression: This book is charmingly different from any other novel I have read, and I am trying to figure out what makes it so likable.

Yours?

Who is your favorite character so far, and ..."

Laurel wrote: "My first impression: This book is charmingly different from any other novel I have read, and I am trying to figure out what makes it so likable.

I'm enjoying this book and I agree that it appears light hearted but I wonder if the narrator shifted to say the mother or one of the daughters if the loss of fortune would be taken so lightly? I also suspect that the narrator is unreliable. And is anyone else struck by his treatment of his children? I know time period is different so children were expected to be obedient, but we never hear a word from them. Are we really supposed to admire him? Yes, he is practical but so sure he is right. The limited view point narrows our vision and notice even though they are in reduced circumstances I think they still have a servant.Yours?

Who is your favorite character so far, and ..."

Jacob wrote: "Everyman wrote: "I share this. So far it seems to me to be more a novel of family and family circumstances than a novel of individuals..."

I wonder if it comes across like this because the vicar,..."

I think you are on point here. The Prologue stresses this too, stating that he's the hero of this story, and questioning us about his traits.
The first impression I got was, that the text felt heavily antique. We only get to hear the vicars judgments - he never reflects on himself or others - from the start of the story he already has set character traits that don't change. As Jacob said: It's the vicars harmonious and simplistic attitude that shapes the story - it's the way of telling that Goldsmith chose to characterise him and that's what actually displeases me.
I don't get why he chose that approach. If Goldsmith wants to characterise Charles Primrose, the many events that occur get meaningless, cause he always reacts with the same attitude to them, again and again to a point where it gets repetitive and boring.
But at the same time, Goldsmith can't tell us much about the other persons. The vicars point of view is so biased (it's all too happy and simple) , that the whole situation seemed unrealistic and his relation to the others uncaring and distanced.
Personally I read it as a satire because the vicar is so exaggerated and extreme that it was unreal for me. The passage that Brit mentioned adds to that (actually I have to add somehing)- in the first chapter he says he chose his wife for her staying/lasting/enduring traits*, just to write her epitaph in the second chapter.

There is one more thing I don't like and it's the linear progression of the Text, the story gets kinda predictable. Despite my little resentment i'm very intrigued to read along.

In that sense the most likable character for me was squire Thornhill - my only hope to stir things up a little bit ;).


* im missing the right word here - I'm reading this text in a translated version

I don't trust Thornhill. I think he will turn out to be a bounder.

I am thoroughly enjoying this book. The thinking is so different from today and as I hear the voice of the vicar, I try to imagine what his world was like, not through a 21st century world view, but through the mindset of the 18th century.

Is the vicar a reliable narrator? Yes he is when it comes to relating his philosophy, his world view and interpretation of the events. Sure it is biased, but that is also part of the charm. We should not expect him to think with a 21st mind.

Enjoy the trip in this time machine.

Jacob wrote: "Everyman wrote: "I share this. So far it seems to me to be more a novel of family and family circumstances than a novel of individuals..."

I wonder if it comes across like this because the vicar,..."

Somewhere someone mentioned (I believe it was in this group but I'm not sure), that many non-contemporary books either don't have, or aren't concerned with, character development. If this is general trend in writing styles of the time (or at least of Goldsmith's writing style), could this be another reason why there is so little individual focus? I.e., if the writer doesn't care about his characters' growth, then why focus on one individual (or a group of individuals)?

Maho wrote: "in the first chapter he says he chose his wife for her staying/lasting/enduring traits*, just to write her epitaph in the second chapter...."

I reread that bit and he also mentions using the epitaph as a way of reminding her of her duties. Perhaps all is not as happy as the vicar makes it appear to be?

Tiffany suggests all may not be as happy as the vicar suggests:

She is probably right in her evaluation. We can see it, but the vicar is blind to this. I find that charming. What will happen when two people function along different value systems? What does it do to their character and lives?

Everyman said: One aspect I really like is what seems to me to be a very accurate picture of the life of the early 19th century. For example, even when they are reduced in circumstances to 15 pounds a year, they are still able to maintain a servant. To a modern reader that may seem incredible....

I certainly did find that incredible that they still could have a servant under such reduced circumstances!

Everyman wrote: I loved this trick. I wish I had known about it back in the days when we had more family visiting -- there were a few I would have been quite happy to have loaned something minor to if they would never have come back to return it. Better than a garage sale for getting rid of stuff you don't want.


I thought that was pretty clever too!!

Chris wrote: "Everyman wrote: I loved this trick. I wish I had known about it back in the days when we had more family visiting -- there were a few I would have been quite happy to have loaned something minor to..."

I really can't imagine such working these days! "Thought you meant to give it to me." "It wore out." "Oh, I left it at home. I didn't know you wanted it back." "It was too heavy to check in luggage."

Do "things" perhaps have different intrinsic value in these days of walk-in closets versus one tiny closet or perhaps hooks for ones clothes? (Now a horse or pet might be a slightly different matter.)

Jacob wrote: "The formal style of the prose makes the narrative seem objective, but the point-of-view is subjective."

That's a very nice point.

Brit wrote: "I am thoroughly enjoying this book. The thinking is so different from today and as I hear the voice of the vicar, I try to imagine what his world was like, not through a 21st century world view, but through the mindset of the 18th century. "

That's often hard to do, but it can make the novel seem quite different. As Lily points out, loaning something out in his day when there were many fewer possessions would mean something quite different from loaning out something today when we have a houseful of stuff much of which we really don't need.

And who today would be able to take a dress, cut the train off and turn it into waistcoats for small brothers? We would just go buy the waistcoats from Brooks Brothers or Ross or Value Village or wherever we shop for clothes.

This novel's treatment of young women is totally consistent with the period -- their primary task is to prepare for marriage and then get married. No possibility of careers or intellectually rich lives.
"The hours between breakfast and dinner the ladies devoted to dress and study: they usually read a page, and then gazed at themselves in the glass, which even philosophers might own often presented the page of greatest beauty."

Does the vicar remind you a little bit of old Polonius in Hamlet? Let's hope he comes to better ends.

I do feel sorry for George, losing his affianced largely because of his father's intransigence on his belief of one wife per clergyman. (Would the wedding have taken place despite their financial reverse? Maybe not. But maybe.)

But as far as the Vicar's account goes, George says not a word in complaint or criticism, either of his father's argument with his affianced's father or his misplaced fiscal trust. He just trots off to London as though nothing untoward had happened. At least, that's how the Vicar reports it. I suspect that George would have been considerably less sanguine about the situation, but if he was, we are never told.

Another indication that the narrator's focus is almost entirely on himself.

I think the financial reverses alone would be enough for Mr Wilmot to call off the wedding, but who knows?

What are we to make of Mr Burchell? For a little while, he gets to share with the vicar the privilege of being narrator. Does his account of Squire Thornhill seem to square with square with what we see ourselves when we finally meet the squire? Did anyone notice Burchill's little slip of the tongue?

I was just reading Thomas Gray's "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard." His view of the country folk seems to agree with the vicar's view of the people in his new parish.

Gray:

"Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray."

Goldsmith:

"remote from the polite, they still retained the primeval simplicity of manners. . . ."

I think we might find the same view in some of the poetry of Wordsworth.

Laurel,
Re Mr. Burchell's slip of the tongue:

“he now found that a man's own heart must be ever given to gain that of another. I now found, that—that—I forget what I was going to observe: in short, sir, he resolved to respect himself,”

This is a quote from chapter three where Burchell is relating the story of Sir William Thornhill. In the middle he accidentally switches to first person before returning back to third person again.

Burchell is an interesting character that seems to intertwine himself with the family. Sometimes he gets very close to them, but then he pulls away. For example he and Sophia are close, but when he has a chance to be her preferred dance partner, he pulls away an encourages another to do the honor.

Everyman wrote: "No possibility of careers or intellectually rich lives. ..."

Well, at least the first half of that. I think the evidence is that a few did manage to get access to books and other sources of knowledge in their homes, although certainly not to attend Oxford, et al.

Everyman wrote: "I do feel sorry for George, losing his affianced largely because of his father's intransigence on his belief of one wife per clergyman. (Would the wedding have taken place despite their financial ..."

It seems to me that their wedding would be more likely if the bride's family ended up in a financial crisis. But this is gleamed from fiction either written or set in this time period.

I do have to agree that George's reaction seems a bit to passive. Reading about his 'banishment' to London to work and help earn money for the family reminded me of filial piety in many Asian countries - Do what your father/mother tells you do, regardless of whatever you may feel about it. Just wondering if filial piety was stronger then than it is now...

Brit wrote: "Laurel,
Re Mr. Burchell's slip of the tongue:

“he now found that a man's own heart must be ever given to gain that of another. I now found, that—that—I forget what I was going to observe: in shor..."

Laurel wrote: "What are we to make of Mr Burchell? For a little while, he gets to share with the vicar the privilege of being narrator. Does his account of Squire Thornhill seem to square with square with what we..."

I too am intrigued by Mr. Burchell, I almost read ahead to just to find out what happens with him. I'm not sure I trust him, he seems too glib, like he's playing a part that we don't see yet. But the romantic in me is hoping he falls in love with/marries Sophia and helps restore the family fortune somehow.

Tiffany wrote: "But the romantic in me is hoping he falls in love with/marries Sophia and helps restore the family fortune somehow. "

Romantic indeed!

There is some culture, I wish I could remember which one, in which saving a person's life obligated you to take care of that person for the rest of your life.

I can't recall where I read this, or when, or whether it was an ancient or modern custom, but it struck me at the time as being fascinating but in a way very logical in a culture where simply keeping alive was a chore and a burden.

But under that theory, he would be obligated to marry her!

Everyman wrote: "...There is some culture, I wish I could remember which one, in which saving a person's life obligated you to take care of that person for the rest of your life...."

Apparently the modern book I am currently taking on, "A Little Life", will take me into the bowels of that question, or at least the responsibilities of friendship, if I decide to stay with what threatens to be a rather overwhelming read.

You do assume marriage is the only way Mr. Bruchell could take care of Sophia for life in that day and culture?

Lily wrote: "You do assume marriage is the only way Mr. Bruchell could take care of Sophia for life in that day and culture? "

Well, yes, I did, though you're right to challenge that assumption. I suppose if he had the money he could have set up a Jarndyce-Esther relationship, although that, more I think for novelistic than realistic requirements, did end in marriage. Or he could have given her a substantial sum (again, if he had it) though given that her father has already lost one such, maybe that isn't as permanent a solution as one might think.

Read Bleak House again, Everyman.

Brit wrote: "Laurel,
Re Mr. Burchell's slip of the tongue:

“he now found that a man's own heart must be ever given to gain that of another. I now found, that—that—I forget what I was going to observe: in shor..."

Good catch, Brit. And I wonder why he pulled away from being Sophia's dance partner. Shyness? Lack of interest? Desire to learn more about her from a distance before committing himself?

Everyman wrote: "Jacob wrote: "The formal style of the prose makes the narrative seem objective, but the point-of-view is subjective."

That's a very nice point."

Indeed!

Tiffany wrote, "Somewhere someone mentioned (I believe it was in this group but I'm not sure), that many non-contemporary books either don't have, or aren't concerned with, character development. If this is general trend in writing styles of the time (or at least of Goldsmith's writing style), could this be another reason why there is so little individual focus? I.e., if the writer doesn't care about his characters' growth, then why focus on one individual (or a group of individuals)?"

That's a good point, Tiffany, and something to watch for. Do the people in the book develop and change through the actions of the story, or do the Actions reveal their characters?

I will have to read all the comments but I will just make my comment first. I have found this to be a most (surprisingly so) pleasant read of a family of about 1766 (correct?). I think the father is (or tries to be) a most proper figure and can be rigid in his thinking but it is told in a rather humorous and almost cute manner; trying to make things work for his family despite set backs. There is a subtle pleasant humor in Goldsmith's writing.

Laurel wrote: "I think the financial reverses alone would be enough for Mr Wilmot to call off the wedding, but who knows?"

Let us remember that finances were crucial in that era. Because this was a time when lack of money might seriously mean malnutrition and even death.

Sue wrote: "I will have to read all the comments but I will just make my comment first. I have found this to be a most (surprisingly so) pleasant read of a family of about 1766 (correct?). I think the father i..."

The vicar seems to be one of those people who is conscious of his own absurdity. He even seems to revel in it. The epitaph was one instance in which I couldn't take him seriously. If someone were offended by the way he treats his family it's only because they don't get his humor. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume his family does.

Everyman wrote: "But as far as the Vicar's account goes, George says not a word in complaint or criticism, either of his father's argument with his affianced's father or his misplaced fiscal trust. He just trots off to London as though nothing untoward had happened. At least, that's how the Vicar reports it. I suspect that George would have been considerably less sanguine about the situation, but if he was, we are never told. "

In chapter 1 the vicar describes his children thusly:

a family likeness prevailed through all; and, properly speaking, they had but one character, that of being all equally generous, credulous, simple, and inoffensive.

George's non-reaction to the end of his engagement and being sent off to London would be consistent with such a limp characterization. Whether it is truly accurate or whether the vicar's self-centeredness renders him dismissive of the true feelings of his children, perhaps we will see!

I wonder if a hint that his children are not so "simple and inoffensive" may be developing, from the vicar's own burgeoning uneasiness about the situation with Burchell and Sophia. He wants to believe Sophia is as placid as he has claimed:

but I had too good an opinion of Sophia's understanding, and was too well convinced of her ambition, to be under uneasiness from a man of broken fortune.

However:

The readiness with which she undertook to vindicate herself, and her blushing, were symptoms I did not internally approve; but I repressed my suspicions.

How much awareness of the true emotions of his family has he been repressing in his account thus far?

One of the quotes that stuck out to me was at the beginning of chapter 2 "The loss of fortune serves only to increase the pride of the worthy." So far, the novel seems to be showcasing the vicar's pride and sense that he is worthy of role as patriarch. He goes so far as to take credit for "designing" his children for the roles they will fill in society. He relishes his own role as patriarch, and in chapter 4 he refers to his household as "the little republic to which I gave laws."

What strikes me most about the vicar is that his advice to his congregation seems more like laying down laws than offering spiritual guidance. He regards marriage, temperance, and humility (in others). Where is the morality? Where is God? Isn't this about a vicar? Beware of this guy, he "was never much displeased with those harmless delusions that tend to make us happy."

I don't know yet how much the vicar might rely on harmless delusions, but I'm pretty sure that if character development occurs, our hero's sense of pride is in danger.

Laurel wrote: "I was just reading Thomas Gray's "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard." His view of the country folk seems to agree with the vicar's view of the people in his new parish.

Yes, I think Goldsmith's description of the country people is very in keeping with the general artistic and political view of the peasantry at that time. Simple, hard working, not desirous of any trouble. Until the French Revolution came along and disturbed that pleasant picture.

I found this quote in Agrarian Studies: Synthetic Work at the Cutting Edge, which describes it pretty well I think:

The eighteenth century thus adopted a new vision of the peasant. As a laborer, he was harmless and piteous and therefore a natural object of charity and paternalist concern. As an independent farmer, he was virtuous, hard-working, and devoted to his family. Anxious to learn and to be guided, the peasant emerged as a fitting citizen of the state.

One notes that it was a time of increasing urban life. The Arcadian view of the countryside tends to be a product of urban life.

"...the peasant emerged as a fitting citizen of the state."

Since I currently live in China and have recently been reading several books (both fiction and non-fiction) on 20th century Chinese history, I found this quote to be the kind of quote that Mao Zedong might have liked. As I re-read previous posts, the more I see some parallels to the world Goldsmith wrote about with the 'harmless delusions' of the vicar to the way modern history is treated in China. Others have commented (myself included) that Goldsmith might have been ironic, but what if he wasn't intentionally being ironic? Perhaps we're just using a different world view when observing the same story and seeing irony that wasn't intended.

Tiffany wrote: "Others have commented (myself included) that Goldsmith might have been ironic, but what if he wasn't intentionally being ironic? Perhaps we're just using a different world view when observing the same story and seeing irony that wasn't intended. "

I like the way you've put this. It's something I'm going to watch with interest as we keep reading. Someone mentioned above that the vicar's development as a character (or lack of development, if that's how the narrative goes) will help determine whether or not Goldsmith is being ironic or if instead the irony is a symptom of our situation as readers. I'd say that if the vicar never wakes up to his simplicity then the irony is something we're bringing to the text, if he does then we can legitimately locate the irony within the text. In fact, the question of irony is more interesting to me since at this point I don't know if it's intrinsic or extrinsic, the author's intention or reader's response. The question could be put in terms of genre: is this a satire or a romance? I have no background knowledge of Goldsmith or The Vicar so I'm pleased to have to keep reading to find the answer to this. I do know that at the time there was an abundance of both kinds of narrative so either is a possibility. As a product of the late 20th century I'll admit to a preference; however I can enjoy either.

Jacob wrote: "Tiffany wrote: "Others have commented (myself included) that Goldsmith might have been ironic, but what if he wasn't intentionally being ironic? Perhaps we're just using a different world view when..."

It's difficult to ever be certain of an author's intent, but cross referencing the beginning of this novel with his poem 'The Deserted Village', Goldsmith does seem to believe in a pastoral idyll.

If you're not familiar with the poem, here's the beginning:

Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain,
Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid,
And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed,
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, when every sport could please,
How often have I loitered o'er thy green,
Where humble happiness endeared each scene!

It continues for a few hundred lines more grieving at the loss of the simple village way of life (in contrast to corrupt cities).

Yes, it certainly seems that way. Now I remember that Laurel pointed out the similarity between Goldsmith's language and Thomas Grey's "Far from the madding crowd..." That has a significant influence on my expectations for the trajectory of the story. Thanks! This is the first time I've followed a Goodreads group-read and I already see a great deal of value added to my reading experience.