Vera

by Elizabeth von Arnim

Lucy Entwhistle and Everard Wemyss, both recovering from recent unhappiness, meet and quickly fall in love. However, over their new-found bliss looms the spectre of Vera, Wemyss’s first wife who died in mysterious circumstances. After their wedding the couple return home and Lucy really does begin to be troubled by what happened to Vera.

Considered a high-water mark by the author, the story is an extraordinarily black vision of a young wife who gradually begins to understand that her husband will accept nothing less than total intellectual and emotional servitude.

Genres: Classics, Fiction, Gothic, Historical Fiction, British Literature, Romance, Thriller

336 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1921

About the author

Elizabeth von Arnim, born Mary Annette Beauchamp, was an English novelist. Born in Australia, she married a German aristocrat, and her earliest works are set in Germany. Her first marriage made her Countess von Arnim-Schlagenthin and her second Elizabeth Russell, Countess Russell. After her first husband's death, she had a three-year affair with the writer H.G. Wells, then later married Earl Russell, elder brother of the Nobel prize-winner and philosopher Bertrand Russell. She was a cousin of the New Zealand-born writer Katherine Mansfield. Though known in early life as May, her first book introduced her to readers as Elizabeth, which she eventually became to friends and finally to family. Her writings are ascribed to Elizabeth von Arnim. She used the pseudonym Alice Cholmondeley for only one novel, Christine, published in 1917.

Reviews

[JimZ · Rating 5 out of 5]

If I could give 10 stars to this book I would. That’s how much I like it. I hope I convince a few of my GR friends to put it on their TBR list. It reminds me of the movie “Gaslight” from 1944 starring Ingrid Bergman, Charles Boyer, Angela Lansbury, and Joseph Cotton. It has also been compared to Rebecca (Daphne du Maurier) and Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte).

There are just three protagonists: Lucy, (Everard) Wemyss, and Miss Entwhistle, Lucy’s spinster aunt. Well, and Vera but she’s dead. She used to be Wemyss’s wife you know. And the way she died…well people did not buy Wemyss’s account of events and a formal inquest was opened…but the final conclusion was “unresolved.” 😵

Wemyss woos Lucy and she ends up marrying him at the local registrar’s office (first third of the book), and they honeymoon, and then they spend a week at his secluded country house, The Willows (next 2/3 of the book).

I could not stop reading this book once I started it. I had this sense of dread with page after page being read, and knowing it was one page closer to the end….how would it end….I feared things would not go well. I can’t say much beyond that. You’ll have to read the book. 😊

‘Vera’ was written by Elizabeth von Arnim (1866-1941). Von Arnim had a terrible 2nd marriage to Bertrand Russell’s older brother, Frank. They divorced, but it is thought that von Arnim had her husband in mind when writing this book. (Well, Frank didn’t think highly of von Arnim as she was deliberately omitted from his memoirs). And it is said that “Bertrand Russell found ‘Vera’ a cruel portrait of his older brother, and said in his autobiography: “It caused me to give my children an emphatic piece of advice: ‘Do not marry a novelist.’”

This book was published anonymously in 1921 as: ‘Vera’ by the author of “Elizabeth and Her German Garden”. It was her 11th book and in her own judgment, her best. “I know I’ll never write anything so good again—I daresay more popular among the masses, but not really so good. It was extracted from me by torment…people say lovely things to me about the book, but only the intelligentsia—the others shudder and say it is too depressing and there never was such a man, etc.”

Katherine Mansfield was her cousin and she said this of ‘Vera’: “…Have you ever known a Wemyss? Oh, my dear, they are very plentiful!”

One more passage from a notable author, Rebecca West, and I include it because she encapsulates so well the character of Wemyss: “The author has produced a remarkable novel because she has had the courage to override a tiresome literary convention. She has insisted that there is no real reason why a book should not be just as tragic as it is comic. By the unsentimental justice of its values, by its refusal to make Wemyss less of a comedian because he is murderous or less of a murderer because he is comic, ‘Vera’ achieves a peculiar, poignant event.”

And indeed I would characterize this novel as a tragicomedy. While I had a sense of constant and building dread while reading this book, at times I was interrupted by laughing out loud over what was written. It takes a lot for me to laugh out loud over something written in a book…but this one did it.

What makes this book is Wemyss (although the other characters in the book are pitch perfect too). I took 2 pages of notes while reading this book and two of the notes were: “The writing is so incredibly good. This guy is sick/twisted/cruel/sadistic” and “He’s a sociopathic narcissist.” From the book: He was not merely curious as to other’s people’s ideas and opinions, he definitely preferred to be unconscious of them.

So you might be saying: “Well Jim, I think you’ve convinced me why NOT to read this book. Why would I want to read about this man and apparently whatever havoc he wreaks on others?”
Because of the writing, the suspense, and the comedy. Here are just two examples of the comedy and then I’ll shut my piehole.

(Jim: Wemyss and his new wife Lucy are approaching his country house called The Willows where she will be seeing it for the first time.)
“A house,” said Wemyss, explaining its name to Lucy on the morning of their arrival, “should always be named after whatever most insistently catches the eye.”
“Then oughtn’t it to have been called The Cows?” asked Lucy: for the meadows round were strewn thickly as far as she could see with recumbent cows, and they caught her eye much more then than the tossing bare willow branches.
“No,” said Wemyss, annoyed, “It ought not have been called The Cows.”
“No—of course I didn’t mean that,” she said hastily. Lucy was nervous, and said what first came into her head, and had been saying things of this nature the whole journey down. She didn’t want to, she knew he didn’t like it, but she couldn’t stop.

(Jim: Wemyss is remonstrating against one of his maids. He sees that the piano cover is missing a button. He wants everything just so, exactly just so, and someone is to blame for the missing button.)
“Look at the piano-leg,” said Wemyss. The parlourmaid, not knowing which leg, looked at all three so as to be safe.
“What do you see?” he asked.
The parlourmaid was reluctant to say. What she saw was piano legs, but she felt that wasn’t the right answer.
“What do you not see?” Wemyss asked, louder.
This was much more difficult, because there were so many things she didn’t see: her parents for instance.

Here is a synopsis of Elizabeth von Arnim’s life: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabe...

Reviews from blog sites:
• https://heavenali.wordpress.com/2012/...
• http://cosybooks.blogspot.com/2014/05...

[Emily May · Rating 4 out of 5]

Strange how tightly one's body could be held, how close to somebody else's heart, and yet one wasn't anywhere near the holder. They locked you up in prisons that way, holding your body tight and thinking they had got you, and all the while your mind– you –was as free as the wind and the sunlight.

This book made my skin crawl. That's the best way I can think to describe it. From the unsettling build-up-- the very first chapters where you just know something is not right --to the horrifying events later in this story, I was on edge the whole time.

The premise goes like this: Lucy and Everard meet in the wake of two tragedies-- the death of Lucy's father and Everard's wife --and bond through their shared heartache. The pair quickly fall in love and get married, but when Lucy arrives at The Willows, Everard's country mansion, the ghost of his previous wife, Vera, looms in every corner. As Lucy is confronted by the reality of her new life, she starts to question exactly how Vera met her end.

If that sounds weirdly similar to Rebecca, I don't think it's a coincidence. I'm fairly certain du Maurier must have taken some inspiration from von Arnim. Though the result is two books different enough to both be worth reading.

As with Manderley, The Willows is an isolated and oppressive setting, almost a sentient character in its own right. Vera is steeped in Gothic tradition-- the gloomy house, the eerie presence of Vera herself through her life-sized portrait, the weak female protagonist, mental fragility and psychological doubt, and, of course, just a pervading sense of dread.

I found Vera to be a darker, more chilling and ultimately bleaker read than Rebecca, though I am being deliberately vague to avoid spoilers. Du Maurier's work is more subtle, more balanced and nuanced, perhaps, where von Arnim's is more straightforward with no question as to who the villains are; Du Maurier seems to be sympathetic to all her characters, von Arnim arguably to none. While I typically prefer Du Maurier's style of storytelling, I can't deny that von Arnim writes a powerful and claustrophobic tale here. And one, I should add, very different to The Enchanted April.

My least favourite part of the book was how the ending seemed to come so abruptly. I was getting anxious at the dwindling number of pages, thinking surely there's no way all the questions could be answered and everything resolved in that short a space... and I was right. I feel von Arnim could have found a better place to wrap things up.

But I'm still very glad I read it. Rebecca is often tagged as romance, but no one could make that mistake with Vera. It is a brutal, feminist study of coercive control.

[Iris ☾ (iriis.dreamer) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Me ha vuelto a suceder, he vuelto a caer rendida ante una obra olvidada que jamás obtuvo la fama que realmente merece. «Vera» de Elizabeth Von Arnim fue publicada en 1921, basándose en algunas de sus vivencias, la autora creó una narración sublime que serviría de inspiración para Daphne du Maurier al escribir «Rebecca». Gracias una vez más a @trotalibros podemos disfrutar de una joya de la literatura y brindarle una nueva vida.

La historia nos presenta a una joven llamada Lucy que mientras está disfrutando de unas vacaciones con su padre, este fallece repentinamente. Ese mismo día conoce a Wemyss, un caballero londinense al que le acecha una triste desgracia pues su mujer, Vera, falleció recientemente en extrañas circunstancias. A partir de ese momento comenzará una relación entre ellos, Wemyss se volcará con Lucy, queriendo protegerla y uniendo sus destinos.

En este escrito hay muchos elementos a destacar: la siniestra ambientación de la mansión “The Willows” en la que sentimos un ambiente cargante, el misterio que hay tras la muerte de Vera que poco a poco el lector va entendiendo, pero sobre todo la delicada realidad que puede encerrar el matrimonio. Y es que esta escritora, exquisitamente audaz, se sumergió en un abismo psicológico, mostrando lo pavoroso que puede llegar a ser el control mental totalitario y opresor.

Elizabeth construye una trama que resulta adictiva, gracias a una buena dosis de diálogos que acompañan a capítulos cortos y una narración ágil. Poco a poco, va adentrándose en unas profundidades lóbregas, creando un ambiente asfixiante a la par que angustiante. El ritmo de la novela solo hace que acelerar, hasta llegar a un final asombroso, siniestro y que deleita al lector.

En conclusión, solo me queda resaltar el minucioso trabajo que realiza al desgranar la mente retorcida de un maltratador psicológico y de sus pensamientos obsesivos. Es una obra completa, narrada con una soltura innegable, un estilo pulcro y devastador que no te permitirá tomar un soplo de aire. Una maravilla que merece ser leída y recomendada hasta la saciedad.

[Libros Prestados · Rating 4 out of 5]

Es curioso, esta es una historia de terror que no está narrada como una historia de terror. Pero es terrorífica. Mientras "Rebeca" o "Cumbres borrascosas" se valen de su atmósfera ("Rebeca" es, al fin y al cabo y en esencia, una novela de misterio o terror gótico), "Vera" está escrito con el estilo mordaz y aparentemente ligero de Jane Austen. Si Jane Austen escribiera sobre relaciones tóxicas y abusivas que van a acabar muy mal.

Porque el final de esta novela es uno de los más chungos que he leído en tiempos. Y entiendo que para mucha gente puede aer frustrante, porque aunque es abierto, también es claro lo inevitable de lo que sucederá.

Esta historia va de narcisistas, banderas rojas que te ponen los pelos de punta y mujeres sin salida. Y deja muy mal cuerpo. Avisados quedáis.

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

After a slow, shaky start, this turned out to be utterly gripping and - despite flashes of pure comedy - intensely disturbing. Published in 1921, Elizabeth von Arnim’s tragicomic novel contains all the ingredients of popular romances of her era but recombined to leave a lingering, bitter aftertaste; shattering any illusions about all-consuming love inevitably resulting in happy-ever-after marriages. Lucy, a sheltered, young woman orphaned and grieving after her father’s sudden death, is swept off her feet by a handsome, wealthy, outwardly-protective, older man. Together, they overcome every potential obstacle to their relationship, marry and settle down in his opulent, country mansion. Along with Jane Eyre, von Arnim’s story is said to be one of the inspirations for Daphne du Maurier’s later Rebecca. And, like Max de Winter in du Maurier’s novel, Everard the man at the centre of von Arnim’s narrative’s been married before. His first wife Vera died in mysterious circumstances – possibly a suicide and one which bears an uncanny resemblance to Bertha Mason’s in Charlotte Brontë’s story. He meets and starts to pursue Lucy just weeks later.

For Lucy becoming Everard’s wife is the stuff of fairy tales – she’s the delicate princess, he’s the seasoned knight who rescues her. But there’s a catch, the house they’re going to inhabit is where Vera met her violent end, and Lucy’s scared ghostly traces of Vera might haunt its rooms. She’s right to be afraid, just not of Vera. Once sure of his catch, Everard’s low-key but overbearing manipulations become increasingly fraught, blatantly, irrationally controlling. At times witnessing their interactions, even with the numerous instances of comic relief, was almost unbearably tense. Everard’s character was partly inspired by von Arnim’s ex-husband, several sections apparently reproduce scenes from their life together. But equally Everard reads like a fairy tale figure, just not the kind Lucy longs for, closer to a rampaging ogre or a murderous Bluebeard. Although I was also reminded of Dracula feeding on Lucy Westenra, there’s something near-vampiric about Everard’s treatment of “his” Lucy. But Lucy seems almost destined to be someone others feed on. For all the sentimentalising about her tender, Bloomsbury-based father, he positioned her as his full-time carer, draining her emotional and physical resources and isolating her from wider, harsher realities. One of the reasons she’s so frustratingly trusting and innocent. For the voracious, authoritarian Everard she’s the perfect prey. Like Frederick with Miranda in The Collector, Lucy’s an object, at best a pretty doll to be played with, essentially a possession expected to cater to Everard’s every whim and desire.

Just as von Arnim’s narrative systematically tears down conventional love-and-marriage fantasies, she also seems to be commenting on the lack of viable escape routes. Despite gradual social and cultural shifts, marriage still effectively required women’s submission, rape in marriage wasn’t recognised, grounds for divorce were limited. One of these was so-called cruelty. And Lucy’s experiences, perhaps deliberately, line up perfectly with debates around what should count as cruel. One contribution to a parliamentary debate in early 1920 could almost have been written with Lucy’s situation in mind – or vice-versa:

“Let hon. Members look at the definition…of cruelty… and they will find that cruelty is conduct which involves, among other things, risks to bodily or mental health…What is cruelty which involves a risk to mental health? Does it include cruel, cutting words, continual, scornful criticism, hectoring reproaches, petty dictatorial tyranny, derisive trampling upon the ideals or the spiritual beliefs of the other party to the marriage? Does it involve any of these things? Those are all matters of cruelty infinitely more intolerable to any sensitive soul than mere bruises, which you can exhibit to a jury, but they are not dealt with. No relief whatever is granted for such breaches.”

Although von Arnim’s plot’s pretty straightforward, her story’s richly intertextual and incredibly intricate. My favourite character, Lucy’s unmarried Aunt Dot who’s suspicious of Everard from very early on, seems to have been plucked from the pages of the spinster narratives circulating at the time. But, instead of reinforcing stereotypes of lonely, embittered, surplus women, she’s easily the most content, most rational of all von Arnim’s characters here. Like an amateur detective, she carefully collects and analyses clues pointing to Everard’s true intentions. There are also remarkably sympathetic portraits of Everard’s servants, refreshingly uncondescending, as well as broader considerations of class divides in England. Lucy’s family background is liberal, bohemian intellectual. But narcissistic Everard epitomises a particular brand of unwavering masculine conservatism, he never once doubts that his way is the right way – in the shadow of WW1 he’s a painful reminder of the kind of mentality behind the politicians and officers who unhesitatingly sent countless men to their death. Alongside all of this there’s an immensely unsettling, erotic dimension that Freud would have loved.

[Violet wells · Rating 3 out of 5]

Elizabeth von Arnim was Katherine Mansfield's cousin. When this was published they were neighbours in the Swiss Alps. This novel caused a scandal as the obnoxious central male character was widely recognised as a portrait of Earl Russell, Elizabeth's first husband and the brother of the philosopher Bertrand Russell. Katherine was always genuinely (it's often hard to know with her when she's being genuine but she seemed genuine) complimentary about Elizabeth's books (with the exception of The Enchanted April).

It's a novel about the blindness of love and the homicidal tyranny of controlling men. It's set up brilliantly - a young girl, Lucy, grieving at the death of her beloved father meets an older man, Wemyss, who comforts her and helps organise the funeral of her father. Everyone assumes he is a family friend. Only a little later is it discovered he is the subject of a notorious scandal. His wife has very recently fallen to her death in the marital home. An inquest doesn't rule out suicide.

Wemyss continues courting Lucy and it's not until he gets her into his house that he reveals all the poisonous depths of his true nature. The building of wealth for him, we understand, is simply a means of constructing an apparatus of tyrannical control.

The novel though had two problems for me. Firstly, it was something of a one trick pony without much nuance: it becomes a bit repetitive and Lucy's blindness to Wemyss's sinister nature is probably extended over too many pages. It could have done with some counterpoint somewhere. For example, I was interested in what the domestic staff made of their master. How did it feel to work for a man who drove his wife to suicide? And secondly, the writing isn't very interesting. There were times when I wished Muriel Spark had written it. 3+ stars.

[Antoinette · Rating 5 out of 5]

5 HUGE STARS!!

A totally mesmerizing book! Unputdownable once I started!

This was my fifth book by Elizabeth Von Arnim and it was the darkest one to date. Briefly, this book is about Lucy Entwhistle and Everard Wemyss. They meet after they have both suffered a devastating loss- Lucy, her father and Everard, his wife. We learn that Everard’s wife, Vera, died under mysterious circumstances. With their mutual need for compassion, they fall in love and ultimately marry. Things change when they arrive at Everard’s home, the Willows- the ghost of Vera is taking over Lucy’s thoughts.

What is so brilliant with Von Arnim is the fact that she is able to sprinkle in some humour, just when you, the reader, just can’t handle the tension anymore. I loved this interaction:
“A house”, said Wemyss, explaining its name (the Willows) to Lucy on the morning of their arrival, “ should always be named after whatever most insistently catches the eye.”
“ Then oughtn’t it to have been called The Cows?” asked Lucy, for the meadows round were strewn thickly as far as she could see with recumbent cows, and they caught her eye much more than the tossing bare willow branches.
“No”, said Wemyss, annoyed, “It ought not have been called The Cows.”

In Everard Wemyss, Von Arnim has created one of the most vile men I have met in a while. Yet, I feel, his type was probably very common in the 1920’s- a man who subjects his wife and servants to his whims and rules. ( Apparently, he is a sit in for von Arnim’s second husband) Lucy, a sweet young girl ( she is 22) doesn’t stand a chance.

Von Arnim is excellent at showing how women were subjugated and under the control of their husbands. Her writing is exquisite. All her characters are well drawn out. She has become one of my favourite authors over the past year.

I highly recommend this book but be prepared to lose some sleep. I finished it last evening and could not stop thinking about it- especially that ending.

Published: 1921

[Tania · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a dark and unsettling story which was apparently one of the influences on Daphne du Maurier when she was writing Rebecca, it is also one of her more famous works; a semi-autobiographical novel based on her second marriage to Frank Russell, whose brother Betraund Russell is said to have advised someone, (I don't remember who), never to marry an author.
The husband makes my skin crawl. Narcissistic and bent on making her completely subservient to him

[Ana Cristina Lee · Rating 3 out of 5]

Esta es la historia de Lucy, una joven que acaba de perder a su padre y que conoce a un hombre mayor y seguro de sí mismo, que de manera providencial le ofrece su cariño y el refugio de un matrimonio ventajoso. Ella pronto irá descubriendo que Everard es un personaje egocéntrico y abusivo y que hay sombras en su pasado, como la muerte de su primera esposa, Vera, en circunstancias poco claras.

Se la ha comparado con Rebeca, pero para mí hay una diferencia fundamental y es que el principal propósito de la autora al escribir esta novela no era entretener - y menos al lector del futuro - sino exorcizar los restos de su fallido matrimonio con Frank Russell, hermano del gran filósofo Bertrand Russell, y hablar de su experiencia como víctima de un abusador psicológico. En su momento causó gran revuelo y cotilleo, ya que los personajes eran fácilmente reconocibles, aunque se publicó con seudónimo. Esta premisa condiciona toda la obra y tiene consecuencias positivas y negativas.

Positivas:

- Está basado en la experiencia real de la autora y nos transmite un reflejo fiel de las costumbres de la época, con muchísimos detalles sobre aspectos de la vida cotidiana en la Inglaterra de principio de siglo.

- Es un análisis detallado de una situación de maltrato, de cómo un hombre egocéntrico y autoritario elige a una joven sumisa para casarse con ella y convertirla en una especie de esclava. Es interesante la descripción de los sentimientos de Lucy, cuando recién casada se da cuenta de que no puede disponer de su espacio y que la presencia continua de su esposo la agobia. Hay muchos momentos de tensión y un proceso por el cual ella va descubriendo los aspectos oscuros de la relación, aunque intenta siempre justificar el comportamiento abusivo de su marido. Esto hace que sea una obra interesante, ya que no es un tema que se tratara en profundidad en la literatura de la época, y menos por una mujer.

- Está bien escrita, en un estilo amable que a veces tiene destellos de humor impagables:
'After all,' she said almost entreatingly, 'what can be better than a devoted husband?' And the widow, who had had three and knew what she was talking about, replied with the large calm of those who have finished and can in leiseure weigh and reckon up: 'None.'

Negativas:

- Lo que menos me ha gustado son los dos protagonistas, Everard y Lucy, que son francamente desagradables, ya que ella está caracterizada por una inocencia que roza la imbecilidad y esto nos distancia - al menos a mí - y dificulta empatizar con su situación. En un monólogo interior constante y cansino disculpa a su marido y busca la razón del maltrato en sus propios errores, cargando ella con la culpa y repitiendo que el amor lo excusa todo. Como la mayor parte de la obra consiste en los diálogos y arrumacos promiscuos entre los dos personajes (cuando hablan como niños es cringe total) y, lo que es peor, los pensamientos de cada uno de ellos (parece un concurso de tontería) eso hace que la lectura no sea placentera y por momentos pierdas interés por lo que les pase. Me llama la atención que Elizabeth von Arnim, que era una mujer culta y que ya venía de un primer matrimonio y de una relación de tres años con el escritor H. G. Wells, se retrate en un personaje tan poco atractivo como Lucy, con la que no parece tener mucho en común.

- Así como los personajes principales son poco más que caricaturas, en cambio apuntan unos secundarios interesantes y bien retratados, pero que están desaprovechados. Destaca la tía de Lucy, con su humanidad y sabiduría, pero que se siente impotente ante la situación. Los criados también son interesantes, pero hacen apariciones muy breves.

- La Vera del título no tiene suficiente presencia, creo que también podría haber dado más juego, y nos quedamos con las ganas de saber más de lo que pasó.

- La narrativa en general es monótona y repetitiva, predominan los incidentes domésticos poco interesantes y hay falta de tensión dramática.

En conjunto creo que es una obra que ha sufrido con el paso del tiempo, pero que se puede leer como curiosidad, sobre todo para saber más de la autora, una mujer extraordinaria en su época.

[Roman Clodia · Rating 4 out of 5]

**Spoilers below **

All I shall want is just to sit and look at you.

Apparently a book which inspired Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca, this also made me think of Mr Eccles and Ella in Patrick Hamilton's Twenty Thousand Streets Under the Sky as well as Hamilton's Gaslight

Very different from Von Arnim's sunny The Enchanted April, this is a tense story of coercive behaviour, emotional abuse, domestic bullying and an extreme measure of control that extends to the female servants. What makes it so interesting is that this was published in 1921, was allegedly based on Von Arnim's second marriage to Earl Russell and mixes up what we can clearly see as abuse with feelings of love on both Lucy and Wemyss's sides - though Lucy does secretly admit her love is intermingled with fear. It's a forensic exploration of how a young, inexperienced and emotionally vulnerable young woman can get both enticed and steam-rollered into a frightening relationship like this where her only way to avoid her husband's temper, sulks and intentional cruelty is to quiet her inner voice of resistance and submit to his control.

Somehow the book manages to maintain a dark sense of humour even while it exposes us to the kinds of behaviour that made me want to read this with my fingers over my face. Much of that comedy comes from the indomitable but loving Miss Entwhistle, an unmarried woman who congratulates herself on her independence from a husband but who is also conscious of not wanting to follow her literary precedents as the interfering 'spinster aunt'. She has the measure of Wemyss but has no ability to shield her niece Lucy and while she offers a dark prophecy at the end when she is thrown out of the house and forbidden to see her niece, she walks away knowing she cannot do anything to save her.

It's particularly Wemyss's arch baby-talk to Lucy which made me think of Mr Eccles: 'Who's my duddely-umpty little girl?' and 'Lucy couldn't count the number of times a day she had to answer the question, 'Who's my own little wife?', but this infantilizing is just one aspect of Wemyss's obsessive control over his entire household: he has bought a library of books by the yard, had them luxuriously retooled and then locked away in cupboards since he doesn't want them 'spoiled' by anyone reading them. It's both absurd but also frightening that he's timed his servants' routes through the house down to the last second and if one of them is late bringing, say, the tea to the drawing room, he pounces in a temper and deducts money from their wages. As Lucy soon realises, he welcomes any excuse to bully the women of the house and loves being able to vent his anger.

Yet Lucy, who is 22 but, Wemyss keeps saying, looks 12 loves this man. His bullying leads to confusion, his cruelty leads to her blaming herself for doing something wrong - the systematic dismantling of her always fragile sense of self is done before our eyes as she succumbs further to the narcissistic ego of her husband. There are slivers of rebellion, flashes of the mind behind the abject body but it's hard to know which side of Lucy will prevail over time - given the fate of his first wife, it's hard for me to see anything other than a pessimistic outcome.

There is clear foreboding in the ending but it is still left open. For me, Wemyss's childish talk and sulking are indicators of a deeper psychological malaise: like a child he wants everything his way and the slightest deviation needs to be kicked back to secure his sense of control. His is a monstrous, cruel ego, but is he more dangerous than even that?

[Laysee · Rating 4 out of 5]

Unlike The Enchanted April, Vera is a dark novel in which sinister elements creep in and refuse to let up.

Lucy Entwhistle, a 22-year-old sheltered and innocent girl, has just lost her father with whom she shares a very close relationship. Along the coast of Cornwall, while grappling with her loss and grief, she meets Everard Wemyss, a widower in his forties whose wife has just died. We were told that ‘… they had met on a common ground of disaster. Death himself had been their introducer.’

Weymss takes charge of all the funeral arrangements and becomes Lucy’s ’tower of strength and rock of refuge. Even Lucy’s paternal aunt, Dot Entwhistle, is impressed by Weymss’ solicitude and practical support for them in their hour of need. Weymss takes special delight in Lucy clinging to him, especially in light of his recognition that his deceased wife, Vera, had never understood him. Vera’s face had never lit up when she saw him. Vera had died under rather mysterious circumstances and there is an inquest.

Bonding over grief is a poor reason for falling in love. It is inevitable that Weymss and Lucy would marry. Unbeknownst to Lucy but apparent to Aunt Dot and the reader, Weymss’s dominating and controlling traits become a cause for concern. Observant Aunt Dot finds fault with Wemyss’s grey trousers and wonders at how ‘he had got happy so quickly.’ However, she asks two more important questions: “What is Mr. Wemyss?”, “What did Mrs. Wemyss die of?”

That things are not what they appear become apparent right from the honeymoon. Wemyss insists they must live in The Willows, the summer river house where Vera died. From the get-go, Vera’s presence hovered over the house, embodied in her life-size portrait looming over the living room. Wemyss is a control freak of the most appalling order. He demands acquiescence to everything he wants including how his birthday is to be celebrated. He has an ‘extraordinary capacity for being offended.’ What does the future hold for Lucy?

Early in my reading, I wondered why the book was titled Vera when the female heroine’s name is Lucy. By the end of the novel, I understood perfectly.

Apparently, the novel was inspired by Elizabeth von Arnim’s disastrous second marriage to Earl Russell, the brother of the philosopher, Bertrand Russell. We see traces in this work of von Arnim’s dry wit and charm, but the overall tone is cold and sinister.

[Carol She's So Novel꧁꧂ · Rating 5 out of 5]

I know I'll never write anything so good again-I daresay more popular among the masses, but not so really good.

I've now read four of von Arnim's books - two of them the well known & loved Elizabeth and Her German Garden & The Enchanted April & I would agree with von Arnim's assessment. The book became progressively harder & harder to put down.

Twenty two year old Lucy meets middle aged Everard Wemyss when he was recently bereaved by the death of his wife, Vera. Lucy is in shock after the unexpected death of her father. Their relationship progresses rapidly too rapidly. Lucy's Aunt Dot is very uneasy about the proposed marriage but is reluctant to intervene in the face of Lucy's happiness. Everard's controlling, indeed stifling, character becomes evident on their honeymoon where Lucy never gets a moment to herself. This becomes close to unbearable & things only become worse when they move to Everard's home, The Willows

This beautifully written but ultimately terrifying book has one page after another of quotable quotes. Vera is one of the books that supposedly inspired one of Daphne Du Maurier's masterpieces Rebecca but it is a source of inspiration only - the tales are quite different.

My enjoyment was enhanced by the introduction by Xandra Hardie. But, I read most of it after completing my read. I wish books had afterwards rather than introductions. I'd rather form my own conclusions.

This is my first completed read for 2025 - & it is going to be hard to surpass.

https://wordpress.com/view/carolshess...

[Axl Oswaldo · Rating 3 out of 5]

2.5 stars

This one is a little difficult for me to review, since this story has been hard to get through. No, not because its narrative is tricky or confused, but because its content is quite real, sad and unfair. Let me explain this further.

According to Wikipedia, Vera is partially based on Elizabeth von Arnim's second marriage to Frank Russell, a relative of the philosopher Bertrand Russell. Apparently, this disastrous marriage was the reason for the author to write a novel such as Vera, whose story shows us the behavior of a dangerous and narcissistic husband, and an inexperienced, young wife. Besides, some people say this novel anticipates Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca (just for the record, this review was written in Spanish) - I slightly agree with that statement, since they have only a few things in common: a dead first wife, a house, and a lunatic husband plus a naïve wife.

There are some aspects which could have made Vera an absolutely great story: its narrative is easy to read, in fact, there is a point in the middle of the book at which it's impossible to stop reading – it becomes basically like a page-turner; there are no many characters, which is good because you can be focused just on the main argument with these characters, instead of being distracted by subplots. In addition, Vera is considered a psychological novel, which means the thoughts and feelings of the two main characters, Lucy and Wemyss, are the essence of the story, its strong characteristic.

It's fair to say that I didn't enjoy this novel as I was supposed to; actually, I should say I felt many emotions throughout my reading such as hate, disgust, anger, sometimes sadness, and even fear, each of which was obviously directed towards the antagonist, Wemyss. You could say, perhaps that was the purpose of the author, to make an analysis of the life of a woman, whose life falls into the power of a foolish, eccentric and crazy husband. Maybe, the author just wanted to reflect her own experience, what she had lived in these pages, and that's all. Well, she made it, but she also forgot she was writing a novel, and not an analysis of the life in a problematic marriage. Unfortunately, here is where my problem with this book began.

The story itself is good, but its characters are basically the same at the beginning, in the middle and at the end of the book. There are no nuances, or a very well developed personality. For instance, Wemyss' behavior is so predictable, since you know how he behaved the first time when he met Lucy; maybe Lucy didn’t know anything, but you as a reader always know what's going to happen next. Lucy's behavior is the same situation here, basically there are no changes – I might say that my reading had finished and I didn’t know who Lucy is, I still don’t know her and, furthermore, it’s difficult to empathize with the character; they never gave me further information about her or the other guy, it was something like "I'm Wemyss and I'm super evil", and "I'm Lucy and I'm so innocent". That bothered me a little bit.

On the other hand, the first chapters of the novel were boring and slow, the middle was very good, but the ending: I think THIS is definitely one of the most disappointing endings I've read this year so far; I can't talk about the ending in the way I'd like to do it because of spoilers, but when I finished, my first thought was "my edition isn’t unabridged" or "a mouse could have eaten the last pages of this" (if I had read this one in a physical edition, of course). From my point of view, the ending was unfinished, it felt like if you were awaiting the second part, but unfortunately there's no second part, there's nothing more except an underwhelming ending.

I made a mistake though, and I need to tell you this, not only because I don't want you to make the same mistake, but also because I'm looking for a way to justify my disappointment in this novel (maybe not, but you get my point).
My blunder was not that terrible: while I was reading this book, I couldn’t help but compare it to Rebecca, the most important book by Daphne du Maurier.
The fact that I loved reading Rebecca quite a bit, and I wasn’t enjoying Vera in the first place, well, it’s clear that the experience was not very successful. Thus, the most similitudes I tried to find between them, the most disappointed I was; therefore my advice is simple: please DON’T contrast the former with the latter – it’s not the same story, they don’t have almost anything in common, and both Rebecca and Vera have different and good elements, each of which can make each story captivating, even though it’s crystal-clear that I loved one book much more than the other one (needless to say the titles).

In conclusion, I recommend reading Vera as though it was a portrait or a study of a disastrous marriage, and not as if it was a complete novel itself. Don't get me wrong, I’m not saying Vera is a bad book at all, but it’s not likely that great novel I’d expected to find. However, it's important to point out that the real message in Vera is so powerful, you as a witness are able to feel many parts of the story – hopefully no one of you is living a similar marriage or relationship to Lucy's case; otherwise, I hope you can find an answer, solace, or even a friend in such a book.
Lastly, I don’t want to rule out the possibility of reading other novels by Arnim in the distant future; perhaps this time it could be a better reading experience – we’ll see.

“Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay...”

[Loretta · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was very enjoyable, until the end when for me, it fell flat. I expected so much more! The book was very suspenseful throughout, leaving me wondering "how is the author going to wrap things up???" Truly lame ending. I'm still shaking my head in disbelief and not in a good way!

[Daisy · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am certain that DuMaurier must have read this book because Rebecca - written around a decade later- has lots of similarities.
Vera is Rebecca, a wife we never see and only exists through the recollection of he husband and the rooms and objects she leaves behind. Like Rebecca she too has met her end in circumstances that are open to interpretation and, like Maxim, Everard Wemyss has rapidly found himself a new bride less than half his age.
While Rebecca was full of dark brooding and Gothic overtones this is almost a comedy of manners. Until it isn't and the ending is like a sudden braking during a pleasant drive, a shock that makes you aware once more of what is actually going on.
Wemyss initially is a buffoon, a man who doesn't believe in dwelling or giving way to sadness. We see his good points through Lucy's eyes, he is warm and affectionate, he speaks plainly, he is wealthy and willing to share his life with her. Through the eyes of others' he is less endearing, clearing rooms with his braggadocio, being less than respectful to Lucy's aunt when she questions some of his decisions.
Once married and on his home turf we see him as he truly is, the buffoonery and eccentricities are an excuse for what we know today is coercive control, he married a child who as the book continues increasingly resembles (physically and behaviourly) one.
The ending will stay with me for some time to come.

[Judith E · Rating 5 out of 5]

Subtle and impactful, then the ending you hoped wouldn’t happen. Von Arnim’s abilities in dissecting male/female relationships are so skillful the reader happily follows her down her sweet, rosy path…until it’s too late.

This book should be required reading in every psychology course.

[Britta Böhler · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5*

[Victorian Spirit · Rating 3 out of 5]

Este libro, pese a ser del que más orgullosa se sentía su autora, fue publicado de forma anónima en 1921. ¿El motivo? Evitar un escándalo, ya que la historia recogida en él era prácticamente autobiográfica. Mi principal conflicto con esta novela es que tanto la trama como los personajes carecen de matices o de una evolución dramática clara. Lo blanco es blanco y lo negro es negro, de principio a fin. Y esto, unido al uso de un narrador omnisciente que no deja nada a la imaginación, hace que todo resulte transparente desde el principio. Eso a mí, particularmente, me mató cualquier posible suspense. Es cierto que, el carácter semiautobiográfico permite explorar una situación real, identificable, que se muestra en todo su esplendor y que además era (y sigue siendo) un tabú. En ese sentido, aplaudo a la autora y me parece muy valiente por haber exorcizado los fantasmas de su segundo matrimonio de manera pública ¡y más en esa época! Pero lo malo de acercarse tanto a la verdad es que te aleja de la ficción y sus exigencias. Cuando escribimos sobre nuestra propia experiencia corremos el riesgo de crear personajes planos, sin apenas contradicciones, que no son lo suficientemente complejos. Y es lo que me ha ocurrido con 'Vera' (exceptuando a la tía Entwhistle, a ella sí la indulto).

RESEÑA COMPLETA: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8eR_2...

[Susan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Having read, and loved The Enchanted April by this author, I decided to read another of her books, and chose Vera....It couldn't have been more different......
This is a dark and disturbing story of how a lovely young woman is drawn into a nightmare situation which everyone, including the reader, can see is very wrong.
It's a classic example of how love is sometimes blind.
As the menace grows with every page it becomes hard not to dread the outcome

If I'd been given this book to read without knowing who the author was, I'd have sworn it was Daphne du Maurier

[Chrissie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Available free at Librivox, here: https://librivox.org/vera-by-elizabet...

This book has a creeping, ever increasing sense of foreboding. It’s a psychological drama. Although not an action filled thriller, a thriller none the less. An impending, threatening nightmare looms, not in the night, but in the day, in what the future will bring.

Lucy Entwhistle is twenty two. The day on which the book opens her father unexpectedly dies. Lucy’s mother longtime dead, father and daughter had become extremely close. It is July and they are in Cornwall over the season when the death occurs. Lucy is stunned, dazed--her life’s soul mate is gone, gone forever. The world has blown out from under her feet. She is pretty, sweet and naïve. Her entire life, she has been pampered and protected by her father.

Everard Wemyss is forty five. A complete stranger to Lucy, he happens by her residence the day her father dies. He notes her distress. In her dazed state, he steps in and helps. He too has recently lost a loved one—his wife, Vera. He has pulled himself through an inquest. Has Vera accidentally fallen out of a window or not? What lies behind her death?

Lucy falls in love with Everard, and Everard falls for her. He calls her his “little baby”. They marry. She goes to live with him in his house—the house where Vera died. Nothing of hers has been removed. Even a mammoth photo of her still adorns the wall. Veera’s presence lurks in every room.

This is a character study of Edvard and Lucy. The more we learn, the creepier it gets.

In love, one’s perceptions are clouded. Will Lucy’s vision clear?

The ending is perfect!

The story is made more creepy in knowing that it is based on the author’s disastrous second marriage to Frank Russell. Frank Russell is the elder brother of the famed British philosopher and Nobel laureate Bertrand Russell.

The novel shines a light on the situation of and the vulnerability of many a young woman at the beginning of the 20th century. It has a darker tone than others by the author. The humor found is wry, it is in the author’s clever wording. The author considered this novel to be her best.

Librivox informs us that Greg W. is the narrator. Words are spoken clearly and distinctly, and so I give the narration performance three stars. It is not read with flair but is acceptable.

*********************

*Elizabeth and Her German Garden 4 stars
*Love 4 stars
*The Pastor's Wife 4 stars
*The Benefactress 4 stars
*Vera 4 stars
*The Enchanted April 2 stars
*The Princess Priscilla's Fortnight TBR

*Only Happiness Here: In Search of Elizabeth von Arnim TBR by Gabrielle Carey
*Elizabeth of the German Garden: A Literary Journey TBR by Jennifer Walker

[Rocío Prieto · Rating 4 out of 5]

No sabía cómo evaluar este libro porque por un lado me costaba leerlo y por otro lado me costaba dejarlo. De ahí, que valorándolo en conjunto, se lleve en realidad 3,5 estrellas.

La obra narra la historia de Lucy, una joven inglesa de vacaciones en Francia, que acaba de ver morir a su padre y se siente sola en el mundo. Por otro lado tenemos a Wemyss, un enérgico cuarentón que ha perdido a Vera, su esposa, en extrañas circunstancias, y está desolado. Lo que al principio parece una relación de amistad y de mutuo consuelo, se transforma gradualmente en un cortejo apasionado, y al cabo de poco tiempo, en matrimonio. No obstante, lo que Wemyss había llamado amor se convierte en un ejercicio de posesión.

Probablemente nunca había conocido a un personaje principal tan repugnante y tóxico en mi aventura de lectura como Wemyss. Es un hombre de mal genio e inmaduro, vengativo, posesivo, maníaco, orgulloso y susceptible. En serio, durante mucho tiempo nada ha despertado en mí emociones negativas tan fuertes como él.

Se trata de un libro intensamente oscuro y tragicómico, corto, pero con una construcción precisa que construye el horror de un hombre inmaduro y cruel que desconoce su egoísmo. Von Arnim desarrolla una imagen intensamente vívida de lo que será un matrimonio potencialmente fatal para su heroína, dándonos pistas, pero las que la heroína decide no ver.

Aunque el final para mí gusta fue un poco decepcionante, ¡vale la pena leer!

[Marisé · Rating 4 out of 5]

Angustioso y terrorífico, más sabiendo que la autora se basa en experiencias propias. Muy recomendable.

[Sarah · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lucy Entwhistle's beloved father has just died. She is still in shock when she meets Mr Wemyss in a chance encounter. He quickly moves in on Lucy and is suddenly attending to all her needs. He organises her Father's funeral, gives her the support she needs and manages to manipulate and dominate with his show of care and protection.

Wemyss is self-absorbed, childish and greatly troubled. He manages to hide his true character from Lucy and she is blinded in her growing love for her new saviour. Lucy's new life begins to crumble. She wakes up to Wemyss as his temperament swings between energy, talk and attention to critical silence, coldness and sulking. He craves love, attention and admiration, but he cannot get the perfection he demands. He gleefully causes scenes and is petty and aloof. He thrives on diminishing others and expects total devotion and submission.

Vera is a shadow throughout the novel. She is Wemyss' first wife and her death and spirit are embedded in their home and intrudes in their relationship.

I admit this sounds very heavy, but von Arnim writes wonderfully and creates a brilliant story. Although the novel tackles some very disturbing issues, she shows sensitivity and writes with a light, thoughtful style. A new favourite!

[Eleanor · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a terrific, chilling portrait of a controlling, bullying monster, the gentle innocent he marries and will probably destroy, and her only hope, all but extinguished by the end of the book - her aunt.

Such men still live amongst us, though fortunately there is more help available for their victims if they are able to escape the tyranny, than was the case back in 1920.

The psychology seems to me to be spot on, and as von Arnim was using her second husband as the model, she had experienced the modus operandi at first hand. Luckily she was able to extract herself from the marriage. Not all women are so fortunate.

Highly recommended and a big thank you to Nancy for telling me about it.

[Kansas · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Sería fantástico, verdaderamente fantástico, salir corriendo por esa puerta hacia el exterior, hacia el calor y la luz del sol, y alejarse más y más.."

No iba a hacer reseña porque he decidido no reseñar las novelas que no me entusiasman, pero bueno, he pensado que cómo tiene algunos detalles interesantes, ahí voy. Imagino que esta novela tuvo que suponer todo un escándalo en su época, porque aunque en un principio se publicó anónimamente, pronto salió a relucir su autora y casi todo el mundo reconoció en el retrato de Everard Wemyss a su segundo marido, Frank Russell, aristócrata y hermano del filósofo Betrand Russell. Para Russell fue su tercer matrimonio, y para Elizabeth Arnim su segundo: solo duraron ocho meses casados antes de que ella lo abandonara.

El caso es que si nos detenemos a analizar el argumento de esta novela publicada en 1921, es cierto que tuvo que ser un escándalo no solo porque la buena sociedad de la época reconociera al modelo real en el que se basaba la autora para retratar a su protagonista masculino y lo convirtiera en un puro salseo, sino por todo el tratamiento de la historia. Elizabeth von Arnim no se corta un pelo a la hora de elaborar un perfil de libro de lo que es un sociópata controlador y egocéntrico, casado en segundas nupcias con Lucy, una jovencita ingenua, que incluso aparenta menos edad de los veintidos años que tiene, (ese carácter aniñado quizá sea el detalle que más atraiga a su futuro marido de Lucy, puede que un guiño vengativo de la Arnim a su ex). Wemyss comienza a ejercer poco a poco un control devastador sobre una mujer que cada vez se vuelve más sumisa, ciega a sus avances, aunque la autora se encarga de que el lector lo conozco desde la primera página. Los pasos que Elizabeth von Arnim va narrando en la evolución de este perfil depredador son de lo más certeros y ahora que todo esto de la violencia doméstica se ha visiblizado tanto, es realmente sorprendente que justo en aquella época, cuando la toxicidad de las relaciones de pareja y la tirania ejercida en el ámbito doméstico parecían inexistentes, Elizabeth von Arnim tuviera los ovarios para sacarlo a la luz, exponiendo toda una realidad invisible tras las puertas de casa.

Viudo de cuarenta y tantos que conoce a jovencita ingenua y se casa con ella, todo esto emsombrecido por la extraña muerte en accidente de la primera esposa, Vera. A partir de aquí Elizabeth von Arnim construye una novela donde una joven se siente cada vez más anulada, más enjaulada y más aterrada en el hogar. Es una novela que cada vez se vuelve más oscura y claustrofóbica y realmente puede enganchar, aunque yo reconozco que no terminé de engancharme.

La verdad es que es una novela que se me ha hecho bastante cuesta arriba, Elizabeth von Arnim es bastante repetitiva y una pega que le veo es que el retrato psicológico de Lucy brilla un tanto por su ausencia sobre todo a medida que la historia avanza y se vuelve más claustrofóbica. Es cierto que hay momentos conseguidos, en su segunda parte, pero en general es una novela que me ha costado terminar: donde se repiten escenas una y otra vez o se alargan otras. El universo de la novela se constriñe casi solo a dos o tres personajes y quizás hubiera estado bien que otros personajes como los criados y algún otro secundario hubiera tenido algo más de protagonismo dando algún matiz más a la historia. La narrativa de Elizabeth von Arnim llegado un punto resulta algo plana, sin matices a la hora de hacer evolucionar la historia. Vemos a los personajes desde un principio tal como son, pero no deja resquicios a poder bucear entre lineas. En fin, que me ha decepcionado bastante sobre todo en su segunda parte, contrariamente al resto de las opiniones, aunque admito que el final sí que me ha sorprendido.

https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2021...

[Terry · Rating 4 out of 5]

It is a tale comprised principally of three characters, a submissive young lady named Lucy whose father has just died, her maiden aunt and manipulative narcissist who may have caused the very recent death of his first wife and who now lures Lucy into a hasty marriage.

Although it has been described as a tragi-comedy, I did not find it funny. It is a creepy book, in the same kind of foreboding sense as Rebecca, and since I have known men who are narcissists, it seemed really creepy to me. I wanted to get Lucy to wake up and remove herself from the situation.

This is the first book I have read by this author. In fact, until recently, she was completely unknown to me. I wondered how autobiographical the novel might be. Was Everard modeled after the author’s first husband? But no, although the first may not have been a prince among men, it was her second husband, Frank Russell, who apparently inspired her to write Vera. The author has an interesting background, as follows.

From Wikipedia: (Mary Annette Beauchamp,) “Born in Australia, she married a German aristocrat and her earliest works are set in Germany. Her first marriage made her Countess von Arnim-Schlagenthin and her second Elizabeth Russell, Countess Russell. After her first husband's death, she had a three-year affair with the writer H. G. Wells, then later married Frank Russell, elder brother of the Nobel prize-winner and philosopher Bertrand Russell. She was a cousin of the New Zealand-born writer Katherine Mansfield. Though known in early life as May, her first book introduced her to readers as Elizabeth, which she eventually became to friends and finally to family. Her writings are ascribed to Elizabeth von Arnim.[1] She used the pseudonym Alice Cholmondeley only for a novel, Christine, published in 1917.”

She also knew E. M. Forster and Hugh Walpole, who both tutored her children. She moved to the US on the brink of World War II.

I didn’t exactly enjoy this book, but it was well written. I am not ready to jump into another by this author, but maybe later. I give it 3.5 stars rounded up to 4.

[Banbury · Rating 4 out of 5]

The names are striking in this book. Lucy of course means "light" (as in luminous, not as in weight), and we can see how it fits her. As time goes on, the reader might realize that more attention should be paid to Lucy's counterpart. For several chapters, we know only his last name, "Wemyss." It means "cave", and only later in the novel do we understand that Wemyss is a kind of dark abyss that will overwhelm the light of Lucy. How dangerous a personality he is is confirmed later, when we learn his first name is Everard--ever hard, which he is. He does not compromise, he does not yield. We realize that his first wife's death was not an accident as he said, but that she probably committed suicide.
But Lucy is not blameless. She enjoys being called "baby" and being treated as one. She fails to remain loyal to her aunt. She fails her beloved father by getting engaged within weeks of his death. She even fails her Wemyss first wife, Vera (meaning "truth") by getting engaged to him within weeks of her death. Indeed, the truth of this marriage is that it is a kind of death for Lucy. Her natural good nature is suffocated by fear of her husband's moods and insecurities, she loses all her family friends because of Wemyss, and eventually loses her connection to her last surviving family member, her Aunt Dorothy, when Wemyss ejects Dorothy from his house. Maybe Lucy should have been moree careful about marrying a man whose connection to her was forged by the respective deaths of her father and his wife.

[Nood-Lesse · Rating 1 out of 5]

Pornografia Marrone (Cinque lettere)

Ho deciso di leggere il libro perché mi piaceva il volto in copertina e perché von Arnim nel mio domino personale si attaccava ad Armin van Buuren
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Txvpc...

Difficilmente le mie motivazioni e le mie associazioni sarebbero potute risultare più distanti dall’opera.
Mi spiace se ferirò la sensibilità di alcuni, ma non ho intenzione di censurarmi, dunque lasciate perdere il mio commento qualora abbiate apprezzato il libro. Nell’incipit il padre della ventiduenne Lucy muore improvvisamente durante una vacanza in Cornovaglia. Il lutto di Lucy si interseca con quello del quarantacinquenne Everard che da poco ha perso la moglie. La situazione iniziale per quanto paradossale (Everard organizzerà il funerale del padre di Lucy pur non avendo nulla a che vedere con lui) dà modo di riflettere su quali siano i doveri di chi riamane nei confronti di chi ci ha lasciato per sempre

Ma ora capiva di non poterne più di morte e di atmosfere funebri. Aveva avuto una reazione, e le sue reazioni erano forti. Voleva starsene lontano dal dolore, ritrovarsi di nuovo con gente normale e allegra, farla finita con situazioni nelle quali una risata era il più osceno dei suoni. Eccolo lì, con la testa affondata in un nero pantano, così si sentiva…
La morte gli sembrava anormale. Il semplice fatto che capitasse una sola volta a ciascuno gli dimostrava quanto fosse eccezionale, pensava Wemyss, profondamente disgustato dalla sua esistenza.

Per quanto tempo bisogna portare il lutto? In rete ho trovato una serie di vecchie parametrazioni che stabilivano che stile di vita e che abbigliamento andasse tenuto in caso la perdita fosse stata del coniuge, dei genitori o dei figli. Il lutto talvolta può rappresentare un’inaspettata fonte di energia e motivazione personale, può dopare chi lo ha subito, possono scattare meccanismi per i quali si voglia cercare di vivere anche per chi c’è stato strappato.
Questo però non è un libro sul lutto, è un libro scritto nel peggiore dei modi leggibili da una donna che ha voluto rappresentare la pericolosità dell’amore cieco di altre donne verso uomini che non lo meritano, ma lo ha fatto con una prosa sfinente, zeppa di dettagli e di espressioni esasperanti. In una bella introduzione alla Morante lessi di un concetto che prendeva il nome di pornografia rosa. Ce ne fosse di pornografia rosa in questo libro.. questa è pornografia marrone:

Non potremo sapere dove finisce l’uno e inizia l’altro. Questo, cuoricino, è il vero matrimonio. Che ne pensi?

Che cosa si è messa in testa ora la mia gattina? – disse lui, baciandole i capelli e osservandosi mentre lo faceva.

Il mio cuoricino non farà nulla che rovini i piani del suo Everard dopo tutto il daffare che si è dato, vero? –

Chi è la mia sciocca scemottina – domandò. – Dimmi chi è la mia sciocca scemottina. Veloce. Dimmi… – E la prese per la vita facendola saltare su e giù.

Poi il pezzo di letteratura con la L maiuscola
Chesterton, in ginocchio, stava raccogliendo il pane imburrato che era atterrato – un’abitudine che aveva notato propria del pane imburrato in tutte le circostanze del genere – con il lato imburrato sul pavimento.
E questa cosa sarebbe, la legge di Murphy? Burro nel brodo della narrazione per allungarlo?
Dalla fine dell’incipit in avanti il libro ambisce ad essere la versione seria di Fosca e Raniero, con tanto di Dora (morta) nei panni di Scilla
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-hHf...
Elizabeth von Arnim fa di più, inserisce anche la zia-zitella ficcanaso e ciò invece di far aumentare la rabbia nei confronti di Everard-Raniero (esimia testa di ca-rtone) quasi induce il lettore a giustificarne gli inqualificabili comportamenti. Ho il dubbio che sia un romanzo adatto ad una sensibilità di cui sono sprovvisto, ho la certezza che non leggerò mai più nulla di Elizabeth von Arnim.

[Fiona · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sensitive, caring, perceptive, selfless, kind, warm-hearted, sociable, hospitable - Everard Wemyss is none of these things. He is quite horrifically the opposite of them all. Following the death of his wife, Vera, he meets the lovely, caring, innocent soul that is Lucy Entwhistle. She has just lost her beloved father and turns, or is turned, to Wemyss for comfort.

Elizabeth von Arnim is writing about coercive control in the early 1920s, a century before it’s a phrase on everyone’s lips, brought into the public consciousness through tv documentaries and dramas. I discovered her writing through The Enchanted April and, as always, I’m excited to have found a new author to read. This is very dark in comparison but her interpretation of the frailty of human nature is just as perceptive and the humour is just as dry. It’s of its time in many ways but, in others, it’s well ahead. 4.5 stars.

[Nerea Bosch · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pocos finales me han dejado con tan mal cuerpo. Un viaje opresivo como pocos, con un desenlace que parece abierto, pero que, en realidad, se cierra de forma escalofriante.