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Bodies of Light
Bodies of Light is a deeply poignant tale of a psychologically tumultuous nineteenth century upbringing set in the atmospheric world of Pre-Raphaelitism and the early suffrage movement. Ally (older sister of May in Night Waking), is intelligent, studious and engaged in an eternal - and losing - battle to gain her mother's approval and affection. Her mother, Elizabeth, is a religious zealot, keener on feeding the poor and saving prostitutes than on embracing the challenges of motherhood. Even when Ally wins a scholarship and is accepted as one of the first female students to read medicine in London, it still doesn't seem good enough. The first in a two-book sequence, Bodies of Light will propel Sarah Moss into the upper echelons of British novelists. It is a triumphant piece of historical fiction and a profoundly moving master class in characterisation.
320 pages, Hardcover
First published April 3, 2014
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5251 people want to read
About the author
Sarah Moss
38 books1,897 followersSarah Moss is the award-winning author of six novels: Cold Earth, Night Waking, selected for the Fiction Uncovered Award in 2011, Bodies of Light, Signs for Lost Children and The Tidal Zone, all shortlisted for the prestigious Wellcome Prize, and her new book Ghost Wall, out in September 2018.
She has also written a memoir of her year living in Iceland, Names for the Sea, which was shortlisted for the RSL Ondaatje Prize in 2013.
Sarah Moss is Professor of Creative Writing at the University of Warwick in England.
She has also written a memoir of her year living in Iceland, Names for the Sea, which was shortlisted for the RSL Ondaatje Prize in 2013.
Sarah Moss is Professor of Creative Writing at the University of Warwick in England.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 326 reviews
August 22, 2017
There was a character in this novel who sucked all the drive and energy out of the narrative. We first see her as a virgin bride, about to marry a painter. Then as a new mother. She’s depressed, can’t cope with motherhood and fears all sharp objects because she doesn’t trust herself not to harm her baby. She greatly interested me as a character, the prose was fabulous and I was sure I was going to love this novel. However it then jumps forward in time and the focus is now on the daughter. The mother has become a heartless cruel woman obsessed with charity, thrift and denying her two girls everything children in poor houses have to do without. She’s become something of a one dimensional caricature. We get about 150 pages of her bullying her daughter and it felt like the novel was stuck in the same groove. The author was so intent on individual sentence writing – the prose is very pretty and the attention to detail was often brilliant – that it was like she had overlooked the necessity of plot and character development. When Ally, the daughter leaves home and trains to be one of the first female doctors the novel picks up massively and becomes riveting. There’s a sequel to this book and because 100 pages of this book could be cut without any significant loss to the novel’s story or themes I couldn’t help feeling it should have been one novel.
I also had a problem with the novel’s psychology. In isolation the characters all work psychologically but in relation they don’t. Why would an aesthete painter marry a woman who scorns all forms of aesthetic pleasure? Why even was there a painter in this novel? Two painters actually. One of whom might be guilty of paedophilia though this is flirted with but never developed. The marriage of Ally’s parents seemed nothing but a device allowing the author to write about artists and their otherworldly tendency to use women as little more than muses, decoration for their visions. But isn’t this a rather lame old hat feminist idea and hardly worth compromising a novel’s psychology for? The men in this novel were generally weak as characters. The father seemed more like a ghost in the attic than a living presence. And the second problem of psychology I had was that Ally’s mother becomes a carbon copy of her own mother and Ally wants nothing more than to please her mother. Show me a single family where this is true, where three generations in a row the daughter repeats the template of her mother. In my experience most daughters do everything in their power not to become like their mothers – it’s almost a modus operandi. The other daughter in the novel was the more credible rebel spirit but didn’t seem to interest the author much and was eventually got rid of. Anyway these are some of the reasons the middle part of this novel was gruelling for me to get through. Ironically though the ending was so good it made me want to read the sequel. I loved Moss’ individual sentence writing when it was at the service of plot and character development. “Tom is there, holding a sandwich on a plate and standing in the bay with George, and Uncle James poised like a bird beside the silver ice-bucket usually saved for dinner parties but now beaded with condensation at half-past four in the afternoon, and the boys washed and brushed since school.”
I also had a problem with the novel’s psychology. In isolation the characters all work psychologically but in relation they don’t. Why would an aesthete painter marry a woman who scorns all forms of aesthetic pleasure? Why even was there a painter in this novel? Two painters actually. One of whom might be guilty of paedophilia though this is flirted with but never developed. The marriage of Ally’s parents seemed nothing but a device allowing the author to write about artists and their otherworldly tendency to use women as little more than muses, decoration for their visions. But isn’t this a rather lame old hat feminist idea and hardly worth compromising a novel’s psychology for? The men in this novel were generally weak as characters. The father seemed more like a ghost in the attic than a living presence. And the second problem of psychology I had was that Ally’s mother becomes a carbon copy of her own mother and Ally wants nothing more than to please her mother. Show me a single family where this is true, where three generations in a row the daughter repeats the template of her mother. In my experience most daughters do everything in their power not to become like their mothers – it’s almost a modus operandi. The other daughter in the novel was the more credible rebel spirit but didn’t seem to interest the author much and was eventually got rid of. Anyway these are some of the reasons the middle part of this novel was gruelling for me to get through. Ironically though the ending was so good it made me want to read the sequel. I loved Moss’ individual sentence writing when it was at the service of plot and character development. “Tom is there, holding a sandwich on a plate and standing in the bay with George, and Uncle James poised like a bird beside the silver ice-bucket usually saved for dinner parties but now beaded with condensation at half-past four in the afternoon, and the boys washed and brushed since school.”
August 10, 2024
this is a story of how parents break their children with their own hands: how they ruin their lives, how they don’t hear or understand them, projecting on them their own desires, hopes and dreams, trying to produce through them everything that was inaccessible to them.
the main character's mother, Elizabeth, was raised within very strict boundaries. her mother kept her under a tight rein and raised her daughter to be a mechanical creature. she lives for duty. she is shackled in a framework from which she sees no way out. even if she displays some kind of emotion that is a little more than expected than she was taught to display, she vigorously pushes herself back into this framework.
she and her mother have founded a club for poor women. there they provide women with the opportunity to take a break, teach them something and try to get them a job in a decent place where they can earn money through honest work and not through prostitution like most of them, but even at this moment i don’t see sincerity in Elizabeth’s actions—all she does is try and please her mother.
with the birth of Alethea, Elizabeth is unhappy—she feels that she is a bad mother who disappointed her own mother. nothing works out for her, and she realizes that she does not feel love for the child. all she wants is for this child to no longer exist.
Elizabeth’s mother is a bitch who constantly shames her for doing everything wrong. she cannot be sick, she cannot be in a bad mood, she has no right to be irritated and in tears. she has no right to enjoy the small things in life. if the poor eat bread or do not eat at all, she must also eat poorly. you should not live better—you should live as if you also have nothing. sigh… it will be very difficult to live with such a mother.
i was wrong—it’s unbearable to live with such a mother. this is a terrible woman. no matter how much good she does for other people, for other girls and women, she does nothing good for her own daughters.
another crazy bitch is Jenny the housekeeper. she, like a spider, settled in this house and realized that Elizabeth’s kindness could be used. im honestly baffled that Elizabeth either doesn't know, or pretends not to know, that Jenny hits and mistreats her daughters. she treats them not as children of the owners, but as simple hangers-on, beating their asses and talking to them as if they have killed her entire family.
Ally is exhausted from all the workload—preparing to become a doctor and doing household chores INSTEAD OF JENNY, and at this moment their very happy father comes along, who seems to be living somewhere on another planet. he asks Ally to help him sew something, to which Ally says she has no time. and i don’t know how, living under one roof, people can not see what is actually happening next to them, literally under their noses.
the author wrote very well about women at that time in the Victorian era, which is now covered with such a romantic touch. many people are like ‘Victorian era SLAY ME THINKS. do they ever think about the fact that woman ≠ person back then? like at all? if we are talking about the poor women were either prostitutes or those who worked from dusk to dawn. or, if this is high society, women were cute little animals with whom you have a good time, then get tired of them, you give them a kick in the ass and goodbye.
Ally moves to London, she meets Tom, a lighthouse builder, and everything starts to go well for her. it seems to me that she is finally finding herself in London and finally meets a person who accepts her exactly as she is. at least someone in this life will support her.
to me, the very realization of a woman in any regard DOES NOT mean that she can do this exclusively alone, in no case getting married or having children. these things can go together—if a woman wants to be alone, she is alone if she is comfortable; if she wants to get married without children and is comfortable, GREAT; if she wants to get married with 15 children FINE. each person has their own needs, their own desires, their own ideas of how they will live this life, how SHE wants to live it, and it seems to me that for everyone this realization of oneself in all matters is incredibly important, but it is so different. people just can’t reconcile these facts in their heads, that everyone wants to live diffrently, everyone wants different things, everyone imagines their life differently, everyone is happy from different things. i don’t get how some can not understand this simple fact that you can be self-realized with five children, you can be self-realized without having children, or you can be self-realized with 78 cats. our lives and desires are so diverse, it is incredible, there are so many options, of how you can live your life, and they are all correct if a person is happy.
i am very glad that i finished this novel. it was exhausting, draining and tiring.
the main character's mother, Elizabeth, was raised within very strict boundaries. her mother kept her under a tight rein and raised her daughter to be a mechanical creature. she lives for duty. she is shackled in a framework from which she sees no way out. even if she displays some kind of emotion that is a little more than expected than she was taught to display, she vigorously pushes herself back into this framework.
she and her mother have founded a club for poor women. there they provide women with the opportunity to take a break, teach them something and try to get them a job in a decent place where they can earn money through honest work and not through prostitution like most of them, but even at this moment i don’t see sincerity in Elizabeth’s actions—all she does is try and please her mother.
with the birth of Alethea, Elizabeth is unhappy—she feels that she is a bad mother who disappointed her own mother. nothing works out for her, and she realizes that she does not feel love for the child. all she wants is for this child to no longer exist.
‘Elizabeth does not fear, now less than ever, because anyone who wanted to knife her would only save her the endless conversation with her own mind about doing it herself; and anyone willing to take the baby would likewise realise a situation for which she longs but about which she can do nothing herself.’
Elizabeth’s mother is a bitch who constantly shames her for doing everything wrong. she cannot be sick, she cannot be in a bad mood, she has no right to be irritated and in tears. she has no right to enjoy the small things in life. if the poor eat bread or do not eat at all, she must also eat poorly. you should not live better—you should live as if you also have nothing. sigh… it will be very difficult to live with such a mother.
‘Mamma has always said that the women’s accounts of birth are exaggerated, soldiers’ tales that grow with each telling. They do not have the habit of self-discipline, she says, and of course they do not have proper attendance. In many circumstances, if we permitted ourselves to scream and cry we would convince ourselves and our companions that our situation was insufferable.’
i was wrong—it’s unbearable to live with such a mother. this is a terrible woman. no matter how much good she does for other people, for other girls and women, she does nothing good for her own daughters.
another crazy bitch is Jenny the housekeeper. she, like a spider, settled in this house and realized that Elizabeth’s kindness could be used. im honestly baffled that Elizabeth either doesn't know, or pretends not to know, that Jenny hits and mistreats her daughters. she treats them not as children of the owners, but as simple hangers-on, beating their asses and talking to them as if they have killed her entire family.
Ally is exhausted from all the workload—preparing to become a doctor and doing household chores INSTEAD OF JENNY, and at this moment their very happy father comes along, who seems to be living somewhere on another planet. he asks Ally to help him sew something, to which Ally says she has no time. and i don’t know how, living under one roof, people can not see what is actually happening next to them, literally under their noses.
‘Of course your Mamma has ambitions for you, but your little studies, Ally, are hardly the same thing as my work (interior designer). You have no time to assist me? To lend me your talents? I am disappointed.’he says to his daughter, who cannot sleep a wink and works like a mule day and night. Ally understands that she is absolutely alone, she simply has no one, she has no support, she has no one to turn to for help, and that any weakness of hers will be punished.
the author wrote very well about women at that time in the Victorian era, which is now covered with such a romantic touch. many people are like ‘Victorian era SLAY ME THINKS. do they ever think about the fact that woman ≠ person back then? like at all? if we are talking about the poor women were either prostitutes or those who worked from dusk to dawn. or, if this is high society, women were cute little animals with whom you have a good time, then get tired of them, you give them a kick in the ass and goodbye.
Ally moves to London, she meets Tom, a lighthouse builder, and everything starts to go well for her. it seems to me that she is finally finding herself in London and finally meets a person who accepts her exactly as she is. at least someone in this life will support her.
to me, the very realization of a woman in any regard DOES NOT mean that she can do this exclusively alone, in no case getting married or having children. these things can go together—if a woman wants to be alone, she is alone if she is comfortable; if she wants to get married without children and is comfortable, GREAT; if she wants to get married with 15 children FINE. each person has their own needs, their own desires, their own ideas of how they will live this life, how SHE wants to live it, and it seems to me that for everyone this realization of oneself in all matters is incredibly important, but it is so different. people just can’t reconcile these facts in their heads, that everyone wants to live diffrently, everyone wants different things, everyone imagines their life differently, everyone is happy from different things. i don’t get how some can not understand this simple fact that you can be self-realized with five children, you can be self-realized without having children, or you can be self-realized with 78 cats. our lives and desires are so diverse, it is incredible, there are so many options, of how you can live your life, and they are all correct if a person is happy.
i am very glad that i finished this novel. it was exhausting, draining and tiring.
April 17, 2020
I read this on a Saturday night. It was a quick read for me but then the next day when trying to write the review I struggled. It is Thursday and I came back to what I had written and still am struggling with it. This is the 3rd book of Sarah Moss’s I have read, and I liked them both – one was a memoir about her temporary life in Iceland (Names for the Sea) and the other was a work of fiction where a teenager has a heart malady (The Tidal Zone).
This is a work of fiction and I hesitate to call it historical fiction. I do not feel the author gave enough historical context in the book for at least me to understand it. That is one reason why I am struggling with it. It involves Elizabeth and we meet her when she is about to get married to a painter, Alfred. I got the sense at the beginning she would be less strait-laced than her mother when getting married because of the way she acted towards her husband Alfred (i.e., not frigid) during her honeymoon in Wales with him, but soon after she became even worse than her mother when it comes to religion and child rearing. Early on after she has her first child she undergoes postpartum depression. I thought she was going to kill her little baby Alathea. But then end of chapter and the book jumps ahead to when Alathea is 8 years old or so and Alathea has a younger sister May who is 6 years old or so. Sorry for lack of details but years are not given in this book…I think the book is told in the years 1850-1870 but can’t swear to it. Florence Nightingale opening up a school of nursing is mentioned and that happened in 1860. The Contagious Disease Act was passed in the time frame in which this story took place. The Contagious Diseases Act was first passed in 1864, and extended in 1866 and 1869 before finally being repealed in 1886. The acts were introduced as an attempt to regulate ‘common prostitutes’ in order to reduce the prevalence of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) within the British army and navy. The Contagious Diseases Act made it the law for women suspected of prostitution to register with the police and submit to an invasive medical examination. The alternative to agreeing to the examination was three months imprisonment (extended to six months in the 1869 act) or hard labour. The acts did not enforce the examination of men. It was barbaric and shows the power that men had over women in Victorian England. Elizabeth’s calling is trying to help prostitutes and other women of that time who have fallen on hard times – she never lets Alathea forget how other women and girls her age suffer.
Anyway, the focus of the novel somewhere near its middle shifts away from Elizabeth and towards Alathea. Her sister May is paid less attention to as well as Elizabeth’s husband in the novel. Elizabeth’s schooling is focused on and her going to medical school – she is one of the first women in England to get that far. But leading up to her getting into medical school, perhaps because of her mother’s puritanical ways and lack of any affection she shows Alathea and lack of giving her anything nice in life (something good to eat, nice clothes), Alathea has bouts of hysteria. And Elizabeth and the doctors doctoring Alathea prescribe hard physical labor…where Alfred is during all this is beyond me. He’s busy being an artist and philandering with at least one woman.
I think I will leave it at that. To describe anymore would be to divulge more spoilers… I can’t work up a great deal of enthusiasm for this book. So 2.5 stars for me. Something did not ring true about it, and actually I am disappointed by what the author said about her novel: “I’m relieved that reviewers are recognizing that Bodies of Light isn’t meant to be a nineteenth-century novel. There are plenty of those and no possible need to write more.”
I really liked the review of a Goodreads reviewer, Katie (she was the one with the most comments and so she appeared first when I got to the Bodies of Light page). I agree with Katie.
Reviews of the book outside Goodreads:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
https://www.theguardian.com/science/g...
https://www.ft.com/content/ca03dc5c-c... (JimZ: really short review, not too enlightening)
From the author herself: https://www.sarahmoss.org/bodies-of-l...
This is a work of fiction and I hesitate to call it historical fiction. I do not feel the author gave enough historical context in the book for at least me to understand it. That is one reason why I am struggling with it. It involves Elizabeth and we meet her when she is about to get married to a painter, Alfred. I got the sense at the beginning she would be less strait-laced than her mother when getting married because of the way she acted towards her husband Alfred (i.e., not frigid) during her honeymoon in Wales with him, but soon after she became even worse than her mother when it comes to religion and child rearing. Early on after she has her first child she undergoes postpartum depression. I thought she was going to kill her little baby Alathea. But then end of chapter and the book jumps ahead to when Alathea is 8 years old or so and Alathea has a younger sister May who is 6 years old or so. Sorry for lack of details but years are not given in this book…I think the book is told in the years 1850-1870 but can’t swear to it. Florence Nightingale opening up a school of nursing is mentioned and that happened in 1860. The Contagious Disease Act was passed in the time frame in which this story took place. The Contagious Diseases Act was first passed in 1864, and extended in 1866 and 1869 before finally being repealed in 1886. The acts were introduced as an attempt to regulate ‘common prostitutes’ in order to reduce the prevalence of sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) within the British army and navy. The Contagious Diseases Act made it the law for women suspected of prostitution to register with the police and submit to an invasive medical examination. The alternative to agreeing to the examination was three months imprisonment (extended to six months in the 1869 act) or hard labour. The acts did not enforce the examination of men. It was barbaric and shows the power that men had over women in Victorian England. Elizabeth’s calling is trying to help prostitutes and other women of that time who have fallen on hard times – she never lets Alathea forget how other women and girls her age suffer.
Anyway, the focus of the novel somewhere near its middle shifts away from Elizabeth and towards Alathea. Her sister May is paid less attention to as well as Elizabeth’s husband in the novel. Elizabeth’s schooling is focused on and her going to medical school – she is one of the first women in England to get that far. But leading up to her getting into medical school, perhaps because of her mother’s puritanical ways and lack of any affection she shows Alathea and lack of giving her anything nice in life (something good to eat, nice clothes), Alathea has bouts of hysteria. And Elizabeth and the doctors doctoring Alathea prescribe hard physical labor…where Alfred is during all this is beyond me. He’s busy being an artist and philandering with at least one woman.
I think I will leave it at that. To describe anymore would be to divulge more spoilers… I can’t work up a great deal of enthusiasm for this book. So 2.5 stars for me. Something did not ring true about it, and actually I am disappointed by what the author said about her novel: “I’m relieved that reviewers are recognizing that Bodies of Light isn’t meant to be a nineteenth-century novel. There are plenty of those and no possible need to write more.”
I really liked the review of a Goodreads reviewer, Katie (she was the one with the most comments and so she appeared first when I got to the Bodies of Light page). I agree with Katie.
Reviews of the book outside Goodreads:
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
https://www.theguardian.com/science/g...
https://www.ft.com/content/ca03dc5c-c... (JimZ: really short review, not too enlightening)
From the author herself: https://www.sarahmoss.org/bodies-of-l...
May 18, 2022
Figures of Darkness
There are so many reasons for alarm. Especially in women. In our time! As at all times ...
to read, because from a Phantom, and because Anastasia Zavozova translated, who became my №1 after "Goldfinch", about which I then wrote a whole ode to her translation.
I've never heard of Sarah Moss before. Perhaps someday I will want to continue acquaintance with her books, but the first impression is rather disappointing. I don't know what I expected from a book about a hard-hearted mother, who absolutely needs to prove that you are worthy of her love, with a pre-Raphaelite artist attached to this story sideways, but I was waiting for clearly more.
Let's take it in order. Firstly, why in "Figures of Light" the fashionable Manchester artist Alfred Moberly with his paintings, the description of which precedes each new chapter? Is this a trick to show the contrast between the beautiful world of art and the prose life of Victorian England? Between the beauty created by the artist's skill and the ugliness of his wife's mundane puritanism? What role do paintings play in the novel, apart from a meaningful hint that there are other areas in the world? Give me an answer. Does not give an answer. The dramaturgy of the plot is in no way linked to the description of the canvases.
However, the role of the father in the upbringing of daughters is also vanishingly small. Here he is all like this in empyreans, he is immersed in marshmallows and cupids, but at the same time he is a picturesque genius, earns very decently and generally a guy at least somewhere - the wives of rich customers are crazy about him, they tighten wasp waists with corsets and stuff like that. What could make this aesthete choose a girl who deliberately neglects fashion and beauty as a wife?
And what prevents you from insisting on comfort for yourself and your children? The wife firmly decided to adhere to the extreme degree of self-abasement, even her, but Alfred himself, who brings this money into the house, would really put up with it? The principle of noblesse oblige, in the end, dictates to people. those who have reached a certain position, live by certain standards. Otherwise, you will become a laughing stock and you will not be able to hold your position.
Then the mother of Liz and May, a completely odious figure, completely devoid of maternal feelings towards her eldest daughter, miraculously did not kill her in infancy and completely deprived her of her will in childhood and adolescence. Stop. And how could a zombie puppet turn out to be a female doctor? And there was no way the Real Elizabeth Garrett Anderson could. the first English woman who qualified as a doctor was distinguished by a stubborn disposition, and as a child she was a little monster at all, one of those who harass governesses and mock teachers (and she did this, considering everyone around stupid).
And then what was this story pressing down on the tear gland? It's just that the theme of "mother monster" is grateful in a conjunctural sense. Roman also does a disservice to the Femme movement. They were heroines, these women who dared to fight against the arbitrariness of the male world. And it's wrong to expose them as evil fanatics.
Фигуры мрака
Столько есть причин для тревоги. Особенно у женщин. В наше-то время! Как и во все времена...
Читать, потому что от Фантома, и потому, что перевела Анастасия Завозова, ставшая моим намбе ван после "Щегла", о котором написала тогда целую оду ее переводу. Следующие книги воспринимала много спокойнее: "Маленькой жизни" не полюбила, "Маленького друга" полюбила, но он и в прежнем переводе хорош, "Девочки" пустышка, "Песнь Ахилла" - нормально, хотя "Цирцею" у Мадлен Миллер нравится больше.
О Саре Мосс раньше ничего не слышала. Возможно когда-нибудь захочу продолжить знакомство с ее книгами, но первое впечатление скорее разочаровывающее. Не знаю, чего ждала от книги о жестокосердной матери, которой непременно нужно доказать, что ты достойна ее любви, с каким-то боком пристегнутым к этой истории художником-прерафаэлитом, но ждала явно большего.
Давайте по порядку. Во-первых, к чему в "Фигурах света" модный манчестерский художник Альфред Моберли с его картинами, описание которых предваряет каждую новую главу? Это такой прием, чтобы показать контраст между прекрасным миром искусства и прозой жизни викторианской Англии? Между красотой, создаваемой мастерством художника и уродством приземленного пуританства его жены? Какую роль играют в романе картины, кроме многозначительного намека, что в мире есть иные области? Дай ответ. Не дает ответа. Драматургия сюжета никаким образом не увязана с описанием полотен.
Впрочем, роль отца в воспитании дочерей тоже исчезающе мала. Вот он весь такой в эмпиреях, сам погружен душой в зефирах и амурах, но при этом живописный гений, весьма прилично зарабатывает и вообще парняга хоть куда - жены заказчиков-богачей с ума по нему сходят, утягивают осиные талии корсетами и всякое такое. Что могло заставить этого эстета выбрать в жены нарочито пренебрегающую модой и красотой девушку?
А что мешает настоять на комфорте для себя и детей? Жена твердо решилась придерживаться крайней степени самоуничижения, пусть ее, но сам Альфред, приносящий в дом эти деньги, неужто смирился бы? Принцип noblesse oblige, в конце концов, диктует людям. достигшим определенного положения, жить по определенным стандартам. В противном случае станешь посмешищем и положения не удержишь.
Дальше мать Лиз и Мэй, фигура совершенно одиозная, напрочь лишенная материнских чувств в отношении старшей дочери, чудом не уморила ее во младенчестве и совершенно лишила воли в детстве и подростковом возрасте. Стоп. И как из зомбированной марионетки могла получиться женщина-врач? А никак не могла Реальная Элизабет Гаррет Андерсон. первая английская женщина, получившая квалификацию врача, отличалась строптивым нравом, а в детстве и вовсе была маленьким чудовищем, из тех, что изводят гувернанток и издеваются над учителями (а она делала это, считая всех вокруг тупыми).
И к чему тогда была эта придавливающая слезную железу история? Просто тема "мать-чудовище" благодарна в конъюнктурном смысле. Фем-движению роман тоже оказывает медвежью услугу. Они были героинями, эти женщины, которые осмеливались бороться с произволом мужского мира. И неправильно выставлять их злобными фанатичками.
There are so many reasons for alarm. Especially in women. In our time! As at all times ...
to read, because from a Phantom, and because Anastasia Zavozova translated, who became my №1 after "Goldfinch", about which I then wrote a whole ode to her translation.
I've never heard of Sarah Moss before. Perhaps someday I will want to continue acquaintance with her books, but the first impression is rather disappointing. I don't know what I expected from a book about a hard-hearted mother, who absolutely needs to prove that you are worthy of her love, with a pre-Raphaelite artist attached to this story sideways, but I was waiting for clearly more.
Let's take it in order. Firstly, why in "Figures of Light" the fashionable Manchester artist Alfred Moberly with his paintings, the description of which precedes each new chapter? Is this a trick to show the contrast between the beautiful world of art and the prose life of Victorian England? Between the beauty created by the artist's skill and the ugliness of his wife's mundane puritanism? What role do paintings play in the novel, apart from a meaningful hint that there are other areas in the world? Give me an answer. Does not give an answer. The dramaturgy of the plot is in no way linked to the description of the canvases.
However, the role of the father in the upbringing of daughters is also vanishingly small. Here he is all like this in empyreans, he is immersed in marshmallows and cupids, but at the same time he is a picturesque genius, earns very decently and generally a guy at least somewhere - the wives of rich customers are crazy about him, they tighten wasp waists with corsets and stuff like that. What could make this aesthete choose a girl who deliberately neglects fashion and beauty as a wife?
And what prevents you from insisting on comfort for yourself and your children? The wife firmly decided to adhere to the extreme degree of self-abasement, even her, but Alfred himself, who brings this money into the house, would really put up with it? The principle of noblesse oblige, in the end, dictates to people. those who have reached a certain position, live by certain standards. Otherwise, you will become a laughing stock and you will not be able to hold your position.
Then the mother of Liz and May, a completely odious figure, completely devoid of maternal feelings towards her eldest daughter, miraculously did not kill her in infancy and completely deprived her of her will in childhood and adolescence. Stop. And how could a zombie puppet turn out to be a female doctor? And there was no way the Real Elizabeth Garrett Anderson could. the first English woman who qualified as a doctor was distinguished by a stubborn disposition, and as a child she was a little monster at all, one of those who harass governesses and mock teachers (and she did this, considering everyone around stupid).
And then what was this story pressing down on the tear gland? It's just that the theme of "mother monster" is grateful in a conjunctural sense. Roman also does a disservice to the Femme movement. They were heroines, these women who dared to fight against the arbitrariness of the male world. And it's wrong to expose them as evil fanatics.
Фигуры мрака
Столько есть причин для тревоги. Особенно у женщин. В наше-то время! Как и во все времена...
Читать, потому что от Фантома, и потому, что перевела Анастасия Завозова, ставшая моим намбе ван после "Щегла", о котором написала тогда целую оду ее переводу. Следующие книги воспринимала много спокойнее: "Маленькой жизни" не полюбила, "Маленького друга" полюбила, но он и в прежнем переводе хорош, "Девочки" пустышка, "Песнь Ахилла" - нормально, хотя "Цирцею" у Мадлен Миллер нравится больше.
О Саре Мосс раньше ничего не слышала. Возможно когда-нибудь захочу продолжить знакомство с ее книгами, но первое впечатление скорее разочаровывающее. Не знаю, чего ждала от книги о жестокосердной матери, которой непременно нужно доказать, что ты достойна ее любви, с каким-то боком пристегнутым к этой истории художником-прерафаэлитом, но ждала явно большего.
Давайте по порядку. Во-первых, к чему в "Фигурах света" модный манчестерский художник Альфред Моберли с его картинами, описание которых предваряет каждую новую главу? Это такой прием, чтобы показать контраст между прекрасным миром искусства и прозой жизни викторианской Англии? Между красотой, создаваемой мастерством художника и уродством приземленного пуританства его жены? Какую роль играют в романе картины, кроме многозначительного намека, что в мире есть иные области? Дай ответ. Не дает ответа. Драматургия сюжета никаким образом не увязана с описанием полотен.
Впрочем, роль отца в воспитании дочерей тоже исчезающе мала. Вот он весь такой в эмпиреях, сам погружен душой в зефирах и амурах, но при этом живописный гений, весьма прилично зарабатывает и вообще парняга хоть куда - жены заказчиков-богачей с ума по нему сходят, утягивают осиные талии корсетами и всякое такое. Что могло заставить этого эстета выбрать в жены нарочито пренебрегающую модой и красотой девушку?
А что мешает настоять на комфорте для себя и детей? Жена твердо решилась придерживаться крайней степени самоуничижения, пусть ее, но сам Альфред, приносящий в дом эти деньги, неужто смирился бы? Принцип noblesse oblige, в конце концов, диктует людям. достигшим определенного положения, жить по определенным стандартам. В противном случае станешь посмешищем и положения не удержишь.
Дальше мать Лиз и Мэй, фигура совершенно одиозная, напрочь лишенная материнских чувств в отношении старшей дочери, чудом не уморила ее во младенчестве и совершенно лишила воли в детстве и подростковом возрасте. Стоп. И как из зомбированной марионетки могла получиться женщина-врач? А никак не могла Реальная Элизабет Гаррет Андерсон. первая английская женщина, получившая квалификацию врача, отличалась строптивым нравом, а в детстве и вовсе была маленьким чудовищем, из тех, что изводят гувернанток и издеваются над учителями (а она делала это, считая всех вокруг тупыми).
И к чему тогда была эта придавливающая слезную железу история? Просто тема "мать-чудовище" благодарна в конъюнктурном смысле. Фем-движению роман тоже оказывает медвежью услугу. Они были героинями, эти женщины, которые осмеливались бороться с произволом мужского мира. И неправильно выставлять их злобными фанатичками.
July 4, 2022
Начало ХХ века. Серьёзная девица Элизабет выходит замуж за художника и декоратора. Их новый дом уже почти готов, и ничего, что нет занавесок, а для гостиной муж придумал мрачные обои с ветвями и листьями: на них так красиво будет играть свет. Элизабет выходит замуж в строгом сером платье. Она не хочет шиковать, когда тысячи несчастных девиц живут на улице и выживают только за счёт проституции. По крайней мере, ее мама всегда говорила, что нужно жить аскетично и помнить о страданиях других людей. Вот, положи себе камешек в ботинок, чтобы ты случайно не забыла пострадать.
Мне как сомневающемуся родителю читать эту книгу мне было и больно, и, наверное, необходимо. Теперь-то я могу быть уверена, что, пока не попробую продать дочь в сексуальное рабство, я ещё ого-го! Как говорится, в любой сложной ситуации заткнись и обними ребёнка, и это наверняка поможет.
Я читала и думала, почему люди могут быть так бессмысленно жестоки к себе подобным. Унижение провоцирует апатию и агрессию, а из бесконечной спирали боли можно выбраться, только если найдёшь маяк — точнее, он найдёт тебя. Как же я радовалась за храбрую Мэй, которая делает правильный выбор между самопожертвованием и пирожными! И как болела за Алетейю, совершенно не виноватую в материнской постродовой депрессии, — наверное, как за Бет из Queen’s Gambit.
Ещё одно: сейчас мне кажется важным писать и читать о людях, которые не были и никогда не будут черно-белыми (см. суфражистки). И особенно важно — стремиться к свету, per aspera a med school. И тогда психиатрическая лечебница может грозить вам только как место работы.
Русский перевод, разумеется, великолепный; выполненный с таким же вниманием к деталям и искусностью, как лучшие произведения искусств. Спасибо за бессонные летние ночи с книгой.
Мне как сомневающемуся родителю читать эту книгу мне было и больно, и, наверное, необходимо. Теперь-то я могу быть уверена, что, пока не попробую продать дочь в сексуальное рабство, я ещё ого-го! Как говорится, в любой сложной ситуации заткнись и обними ребёнка, и это наверняка поможет.
Я читала и думала, почему люди могут быть так бессмысленно жестоки к себе подобным. Унижение провоцирует апатию и агрессию, а из бесконечной спирали боли можно выбраться, только если найдёшь маяк — точнее, он найдёт тебя. Как же я радовалась за храбрую Мэй, которая делает правильный выбор между самопожертвованием и пирожными! И как болела за Алетейю, совершенно не виноватую в материнской постродовой депрессии, — наверное, как за Бет из Queen’s Gambit.
Ещё одно: сейчас мне кажется важным писать и читать о людях, которые не были и никогда не будут черно-белыми (см. суфражистки). И особенно важно — стремиться к свету, per aspera a med school. И тогда психиатрическая лечебница может грозить вам только как место работы.
Русский перевод, разумеется, великолепный; выполненный с таким же вниманием к деталям и искусностью, как лучшие произведения искусств. Спасибо за бессонные летние ночи с книгой.
November 23, 2018
This was one of the best books I've read this year. The author beautifully conveys the atmosphere of a young girl's upbringing during the 19th century, her quest in pleasing her stern and abusive mother while gradually making her way to independence. It was painful to read at times but I couldn't put the book down until I knew the ending which was very satisfying.
A very accomplished and extremely well researched book. Highly recommended!
A very accomplished and extremely well researched book. Highly recommended!
January 18, 2021
My 5th Moss book in a row, and though it's the one I've enjoyed least of those, it is still quite an accomplished tome. Somewhat of a prequel to Night Waking, it takes up the story of May Moberley, who is the primary character in the 'B' story of that book, and her sister Ally, and gives their back history, starting with the courtship of their parents, Elizabeth and Alfred. Most of the book details the emancipation of Ally from her dominating and rather sadistic mother, as she makes her way to medical school, and an eventual marriage to a lighthouse designer, Tom.
My minor dissatisfaction is that the scope of this book seems much less adventuresome than in the other works of Moss I've read, and often borders on a rather 'chick-lit' romance set in 1880's London. Plus, wherein her other books are subtle in their feminist bona fides, this is almost aggressively didactic in pointing out how radical it is for a woman to want to study medicine, and how hampered the female sex is by the mores of the time. Still, I found Ally and new husband Tom characters sufficiently of interest, that I will continue their journey in Moss's subsequent novel, Signs for Lost Children.
My minor dissatisfaction is that the scope of this book seems much less adventuresome than in the other works of Moss I've read, and often borders on a rather 'chick-lit' romance set in 1880's London. Plus, wherein her other books are subtle in their feminist bona fides, this is almost aggressively didactic in pointing out how radical it is for a woman to want to study medicine, and how hampered the female sex is by the mores of the time. Still, I found Ally and new husband Tom characters sufficiently of interest, that I will continue their journey in Moss's subsequent novel, Signs for Lost Children.
May 29, 2017
Terrific historical fiction reminiscent of A.S. Byatt and The Essex Serpent. I’d previously only read contemporary-set novels by Moss, but her recurrent themes of vocation, childrearing and medical crisis are just as convincing when placed in the 1850s–70s.
Alethea Moberley is among the first female doctors to qualify in London, driven by a desperate wish to please her demanding, do-gooding mother. The descriptions of anxiety disorder (what would in that time have generally been dismissed as female “hysteria”) and postpartum depression (“The baby has defeated her. If she goes out, she is afraid she will buy laudanum, and if she stays in the house, there are knives. And fire, and the staircase. And windows high under the gable. The baby cries.”) are particularly keen. I also liked how the chapters are prefaced by descriptions of relevant paintings by Alethea’s artist father and his circle.
Bonus: there’s a sequel, picking up just after . Signs for Lost Children was published just one year later, and both novels were shortlisted for the Wellcome Book Prize (for books on a medical theme).
Alethea Moberley is among the first female doctors to qualify in London, driven by a desperate wish to please her demanding, do-gooding mother. The descriptions of anxiety disorder (what would in that time have generally been dismissed as female “hysteria”) and postpartum depression (“The baby has defeated her. If she goes out, she is afraid she will buy laudanum, and if she stays in the house, there are knives. And fire, and the staircase. And windows high under the gable. The baby cries.”) are particularly keen. I also liked how the chapters are prefaced by descriptions of relevant paintings by Alethea’s artist father and his circle.
Bonus: there’s a sequel, picking up just after . Signs for Lost Children was published just one year later, and both novels were shortlisted for the Wellcome Book Prize (for books on a medical theme).
March 29, 2022
очень красивый, ясный текст. мне в нем почудилось сколько-то поздней Вирджинии Вульф (любимые "Годы", например), но Вирджиния всегда мерещится в конце марта, когда вокруг ад, а в карманах у кого-то много камней. впрочем, в романе два варианта применения камней в кармане и я не знаю, какой хуже. в романе есть семья и история взросления, есть колкие слова и молчание, но есть и нежность и слабость и много бесконечно мной любимого - моментов жизни как они есть - взгляда в окно вечером, сидения в поезде, усталости или этих вот минут, когда в первый раз в жизни видишь море. ещё стоит обратить внимание на экфрастические вставочки перед каждой главкой - не пробегать их, побыть с ними, включить воображение на максимум (счастливчики могут в подробностях вспомнить выставку 2013, когда прерафаэлитов привозили в Россию) - эти призраки - лучшие иллюстрации.
July 11, 2020
I guess this taught me that sometimes, even books written by someone whose other book(s) I've enjoyed previously that deal with topics I usually love reading about, can still somehow just not really work for me. This took me over a month to read, because I never felt inclined to pick it back up again (but also never felt like DNFing it) and the frustrating part is - I can't even really pinpoint what it is about it that I didn't like. I'm confused.
June 27, 2020
'Bodies of Light' is an elegantly crafted narrative illustrating the intolerable mental and physical pressures placed upon women in Victorian England. Each chapter begins with a description of a painting or other artwork, a conceit that I frankly didn't think was necessary. The great strength of the book is its insight into the inner lives of the protagonists: Elizabeth, who marries an artist, and her first daughter Alethea. Elizabeth has a keen sense of social justice, specifically a determination to improve the lot of exploited women. While her devotion to this cause is laudable, when combined with evangelical Christianity, inflexible dedication to respectability, and untreated depression, she becomes a harsh and cruel mother. By showing her point of view prior to the birth of her daughters and her upsetting experience of postnatal depression, Moss makes her a tragic rather than evil figure. She is deeply unhappy and unfortunately this manifests in awful treatment of her children, especially Alethea. Her crusade against poverty and exploitation is entirely justified, but it stems from rage and sadness rather than love. She cannot or will not see that treating Alethea harshly helps nobody.
The majority of the book takes Alethea, or Ally, as the protagonist and follows her academic progress to qualification as one of the first female doctors in Britain. My favourite sequences in the book involve Ally's friendly debates with her fellow female medical students, as they consider what sacrifices are worth making for the progress of women's health and ability to practice medicine. Ally's upbringing has given her a keen understanding of social injustices, as well as an intense anxiety disorder and distrust of kindness. After leaving her parents home, she gradually learns to accept support, praise, and comfort. This is subtly and sensitively shown. I thought the clear parallel drawn between Elizabeth and May's and Ally and May's sibling relationships was powerful. Moss certainly shows how families can repeat the same mistakes and cruelties down the generations, while also centring on someone who appears to break out of the cycle. I can also attest that the depiction of anxiety and panic attacks is very convincing. They must feel even worse while wearing a corset, I realised while reading this novel. No wonder I lost my taste for corsets.
'Bodies of Light' is a sad but powerful novel. I would only guardedly recommend it as a lockdown read, given the focus on mental illness, unhappy families, and Victorian medical practice. There is surprisingly little about art. Indeed, the subversive implication throughout is that men focus on aesthetic trivialities while women get on with the real work. Moss is an insightful and vivid writer who evokes the 1870s with great conviction. 'Bodies of Light' leaves the reader with much to ponder, none of it particularly cheerful.
The majority of the book takes Alethea, or Ally, as the protagonist and follows her academic progress to qualification as one of the first female doctors in Britain. My favourite sequences in the book involve Ally's friendly debates with her fellow female medical students, as they consider what sacrifices are worth making for the progress of women's health and ability to practice medicine. Ally's upbringing has given her a keen understanding of social injustices, as well as an intense anxiety disorder and distrust of kindness. After leaving her parents home, she gradually learns to accept support, praise, and comfort. This is subtly and sensitively shown. I thought the clear parallel drawn between Elizabeth and May's and Ally and May's sibling relationships was powerful. Moss certainly shows how families can repeat the same mistakes and cruelties down the generations, while also centring on someone who appears to break out of the cycle. I can also attest that the depiction of anxiety and panic attacks is very convincing. They must feel even worse while wearing a corset, I realised while reading this novel. No wonder I lost my taste for corsets.
'Bodies of Light' is a sad but powerful novel. I would only guardedly recommend it as a lockdown read, given the focus on mental illness, unhappy families, and Victorian medical practice. There is surprisingly little about art. Indeed, the subversive implication throughout is that men focus on aesthetic trivialities while women get on with the real work. Moss is an insightful and vivid writer who evokes the 1870s with great conviction. 'Bodies of Light' leaves the reader with much to ponder, none of it particularly cheerful.
April 24, 2014
This is the third novel by Sarah Moss, following her debut, “Cold Earth,” and “Night Waking.” It is linked, loosely, to “Night Waking,” in that May Moberley features as a character in the historical aspect of that novel and is the sister of the main character in “Bodies of Light.” However, this is not a sequel, or indeed really a prequel, and it is not necessary to have read the wonderful “Night Waking,” before reading this – apart from the fact that you will have missed a wonderful read. However, the joy of discovering an author is that you can go back and re-discover their past work and this moving and poignant novel is certainly a great introduction to this author.
Most of the book is set in Victorian Manchester and begins with the marriage of Elizabeth Sanderson to Alfred Moberley. Elizabeth’s mother is heavily involved in religious works and charity and has brought up her two daughters, Elizabeth and Mary, to be serious social campaigners. Alfred, who is an artist and a designer of rooms and fabrics, seems to be ill-suited to Elizabeth from the start. His tastes are ornate, Elizabeth’s simple and frugal. He takes tea with wealthy women who wish to have a beautiful dining room and she spends her time at the Manchester Welfare Society in social campaigning. The fact that Elizabeth’s father has purchased their marital home is merely passed over in a brief comment; but you later feel it may have a great deal to do with why this young designer, not yet established, had proposed to his young bride.
The couple’s first daughter is Alethea (Ally), followed by May. From the start, Elizabeth feels trapped by her baby, unable to live up to her own mother’s harsh demands and this sets her on a difficult path with her children. She is a determined and uncompromising woman, who looks on Ally’s childish nightmares with an almost vicious disregard. Every emotion is unworthy, when people are coping with so much worse, and Ally is full of guilt and a desperate desire to please her mother. Meanwhile, despite his dislike at the bullying and controlling behaviour of his wife, Alfred retreats into his work and his friendship with his friend, Aubrey. Elizabeth is a fascinating character. Despite her truly disagreeable behaviour, the author’s allowing us to peep behind the facade at the beginning of the book, allows us to give her a degree of sympathy. She truly is a campaigner too, particularly for women, and her attitudes allow her daughters to pursue academic careers in a society where women are branded as unnatural for wanting to join men as equals in professions such as medicine.
We follow Ally throughout her childhood and into her attempt to become one of the very first women to practice medicine. However, although this story tells the story of Ally, it also says so much more and touches on so many different issues – both historical and familial. This novel is not an easy read and it confronts many issues which are, at times, difficult to read. There is an understanding between Ally and May that their life at home is not typical and in one moving scene Ally sees her aunt lift her hand to her son and expects her to strike him, only to see him receive a playful cuff. Little glimpses, such as that example, remind us of how damaged this young woman is. Yet, we realise how strong, how intelligent and how capable she is as well – even if she does not have faith in herself. This is really the perfect novel for reading groups, as there is so much to discuss. I believe there will be a further book by Sarah Moss, with links to “Night Waking,” and “Bodies of Light,” and I look forward eagerly to reading it. Her novels are moving, perceptive, intelligent and thought provoking and this is another great addition to her work.
Most of the book is set in Victorian Manchester and begins with the marriage of Elizabeth Sanderson to Alfred Moberley. Elizabeth’s mother is heavily involved in religious works and charity and has brought up her two daughters, Elizabeth and Mary, to be serious social campaigners. Alfred, who is an artist and a designer of rooms and fabrics, seems to be ill-suited to Elizabeth from the start. His tastes are ornate, Elizabeth’s simple and frugal. He takes tea with wealthy women who wish to have a beautiful dining room and she spends her time at the Manchester Welfare Society in social campaigning. The fact that Elizabeth’s father has purchased their marital home is merely passed over in a brief comment; but you later feel it may have a great deal to do with why this young designer, not yet established, had proposed to his young bride.
The couple’s first daughter is Alethea (Ally), followed by May. From the start, Elizabeth feels trapped by her baby, unable to live up to her own mother’s harsh demands and this sets her on a difficult path with her children. She is a determined and uncompromising woman, who looks on Ally’s childish nightmares with an almost vicious disregard. Every emotion is unworthy, when people are coping with so much worse, and Ally is full of guilt and a desperate desire to please her mother. Meanwhile, despite his dislike at the bullying and controlling behaviour of his wife, Alfred retreats into his work and his friendship with his friend, Aubrey. Elizabeth is a fascinating character. Despite her truly disagreeable behaviour, the author’s allowing us to peep behind the facade at the beginning of the book, allows us to give her a degree of sympathy. She truly is a campaigner too, particularly for women, and her attitudes allow her daughters to pursue academic careers in a society where women are branded as unnatural for wanting to join men as equals in professions such as medicine.
We follow Ally throughout her childhood and into her attempt to become one of the very first women to practice medicine. However, although this story tells the story of Ally, it also says so much more and touches on so many different issues – both historical and familial. This novel is not an easy read and it confronts many issues which are, at times, difficult to read. There is an understanding between Ally and May that their life at home is not typical and in one moving scene Ally sees her aunt lift her hand to her son and expects her to strike him, only to see him receive a playful cuff. Little glimpses, such as that example, remind us of how damaged this young woman is. Yet, we realise how strong, how intelligent and how capable she is as well – even if she does not have faith in herself. This is really the perfect novel for reading groups, as there is so much to discuss. I believe there will be a further book by Sarah Moss, with links to “Night Waking,” and “Bodies of Light,” and I look forward eagerly to reading it. Her novels are moving, perceptive, intelligent and thought provoking and this is another great addition to her work.
May 14, 2022
Прекрасный роман взросления или, как я его для себя нарекла, роман-галерея об отношениях детей и родителей, детей и взрослых вообще, о женской самореализации в условиях викторианской эпохи, о суфражизме, о семье и о чем только не. Роман-галерея, потому что отец главной героини художник, и каждая глава ознаменована его картиной, с сюжетом которой закольцовывается повествование в главе. Интересный композиционный ход, но при этом не пост-мета-модернизм, не многим авторам это удаётся. Не счесть, сколько раз я вскидывала бровь, закатывала глаза, улыбалась или смахивала слезу, пока читала эту книгу — такое чтение случается только в детстве, или когда читаешь по-настоящему сильный роман. В моем случае — второе. Любовь🤍
April 15, 2022
Beautiful writing and exquisite composition
Это Вещь! Анастасия Завозова фигни не переводит👍
Это Вещь! Анастасия Завозова фигни не переводит👍
January 22, 2020
This is a complicated one to rate and one where the goodreads rating system doesn’t really work. I think Moss is a phenomenal author and the themes and historical content are excellent. The problem for me was she tackled too much in too few pages. The story spans over 25 years in just over 300 pages so she jumps ahead a lot skipping pretty big events. This pulled me out of the story and kept me from making as deep of a connection with the characters as I wanted. Despite my 3 star rating I still really enjoyed this and would recommend it I just don’t think it’s her strongest work. This forms a loose trilogy with Night Waking (which I absolutely loved) and Signs for Lost Children which I am really looking forward to getting to.
February 2, 2016
This superb novel is set in Victorian Manchester, and is centered on Alethea (Ally) Moberley, the first child of Alfred, a successful but eccentric painter and interior designer, and Elizabeth, a devoutly religious and strict Quaker who is completely invested in the well being of poor women within and outside of England, and to ensuring that Ally and her sister May stay on a very narrow and righteous path and devote their lives to the downtrodden.
In the 1860s and 1870s women were only just beginning to be accepted, begrudgingly, into colleges and professions that were previously denied to them. Girton College, the first for women at Cambridge, opened in 1869, which was followed by Newnham College in 1872, although Bedford College for Women at the University of London had preceded Girton College by 20 years. Formal medical education was denied to women, as Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, the first woman licensed to practice medicine in 1865 and the first to be accepted to the British Medical Association in 1873, remained the only female member of the BMA for nearly two decades, after the organization voted against allowing any other women to gain admittance. Those women who did attempt to gain entry to male only bastions, including medicine, were greeted with hostility and derision, or were simply ignored.
In 1864, the Contagious Diseases Act was passed by Parliament, which was initially created to limit the spread of sexually transmitted infections to soldiers. Policemen in ports and army towns searched for women who were known prostitutes, and any others who were suspected of soliciting sexual favors from clients. Any woman who was walking alone could be taken into custody, even if she was married or had a legitimate reason to be out in public. Those accused of solicitation were arrested and taken to police stations, where they were strapped onto tables and forced to undergo painful and humiliating pelvic examinations with a metal speculum by male officers. Thousands of women were taken into police custody under the Contagious Disease Act; those who were found to be infected were transferred to Lock hospitals for treatment of venereal diseases, where they could be held for up to a year, and those who were uninfected were released. Some of the innocent women were so badly traumatized that they committed suicide shortly afterward, and undoubtedly many others were infected by the use of contaminated specula, thus contributing to the spread of the disease. For single men and soldiers, having sex with prostitutes was considered to be a necessary evil, and they were frequently released by police with little more than a warning. In later years, the Contagious Diseases Act was employed in larger cities and towns, to limit the spread of disease amongst the general public.
Elizabeth Moberley, like many independent women in the Victorian Era, was horrified by this Act, and because of this and the woeful health services available to women, she single mindedly determined that Ally would become a physician, and devote her life to women's health. The repressed but strong willed Ally agreed with her mother's decision, although she didn't have much choice in the matter, and the latter half of the book describes her pursuit of a medical career, and how she overcame numerous obstacles in the clinics and difficulties at home to achieve that goal.
Bodies of Light starts with the marriage of Alfred and Elizabeth, their difficult but successful marriage of opposites, Ally's birth and the profoundly negative affect her infancy and early childhood had on Elizabeth, Ally's largely unhappy childhood spent under the hard thumb of her inflexible mother, and her relationship with her far more carefree younger sister May. This was a wonderfully written and captivating story, with vividly portrayed central characters, and I was emotionally invested in Ally and cheered her on throughout the book. My only minor critiques are that I wished that it was a longer novel, with fuller descriptions of her medical education and the challenges she faced along the way, and it ended too abruptly for me, although it could be that I wasn't ready to leave Ally behind at the conclusion of the novel.
I look forward to reading Signs for Lost Children, which was published last year and picks up where Bodies of Light left off. I'm very surprised that this book wasn't chosen for last year's Bailey's Women's Prize for Fiction, as it would have been a fabulous choice for the longlist, at least.
In the 1860s and 1870s women were only just beginning to be accepted, begrudgingly, into colleges and professions that were previously denied to them. Girton College, the first for women at Cambridge, opened in 1869, which was followed by Newnham College in 1872, although Bedford College for Women at the University of London had preceded Girton College by 20 years. Formal medical education was denied to women, as Elizabeth Garrett Anderson, the first woman licensed to practice medicine in 1865 and the first to be accepted to the British Medical Association in 1873, remained the only female member of the BMA for nearly two decades, after the organization voted against allowing any other women to gain admittance. Those women who did attempt to gain entry to male only bastions, including medicine, were greeted with hostility and derision, or were simply ignored.
In 1864, the Contagious Diseases Act was passed by Parliament, which was initially created to limit the spread of sexually transmitted infections to soldiers. Policemen in ports and army towns searched for women who were known prostitutes, and any others who were suspected of soliciting sexual favors from clients. Any woman who was walking alone could be taken into custody, even if she was married or had a legitimate reason to be out in public. Those accused of solicitation were arrested and taken to police stations, where they were strapped onto tables and forced to undergo painful and humiliating pelvic examinations with a metal speculum by male officers. Thousands of women were taken into police custody under the Contagious Disease Act; those who were found to be infected were transferred to Lock hospitals for treatment of venereal diseases, where they could be held for up to a year, and those who were uninfected were released. Some of the innocent women were so badly traumatized that they committed suicide shortly afterward, and undoubtedly many others were infected by the use of contaminated specula, thus contributing to the spread of the disease. For single men and soldiers, having sex with prostitutes was considered to be a necessary evil, and they were frequently released by police with little more than a warning. In later years, the Contagious Diseases Act was employed in larger cities and towns, to limit the spread of disease amongst the general public.
Elizabeth Moberley, like many independent women in the Victorian Era, was horrified by this Act, and because of this and the woeful health services available to women, she single mindedly determined that Ally would become a physician, and devote her life to women's health. The repressed but strong willed Ally agreed with her mother's decision, although she didn't have much choice in the matter, and the latter half of the book describes her pursuit of a medical career, and how she overcame numerous obstacles in the clinics and difficulties at home to achieve that goal.
Bodies of Light starts with the marriage of Alfred and Elizabeth, their difficult but successful marriage of opposites, Ally's birth and the profoundly negative affect her infancy and early childhood had on Elizabeth, Ally's largely unhappy childhood spent under the hard thumb of her inflexible mother, and her relationship with her far more carefree younger sister May. This was a wonderfully written and captivating story, with vividly portrayed central characters, and I was emotionally invested in Ally and cheered her on throughout the book. My only minor critiques are that I wished that it was a longer novel, with fuller descriptions of her medical education and the challenges she faced along the way, and it ended too abruptly for me, although it could be that I wasn't ready to leave Ally behind at the conclusion of the novel.
I look forward to reading Signs for Lost Children, which was published last year and picks up where Bodies of Light left off. I'm very surprised that this book wasn't chosen for last year's Bailey's Women's Prize for Fiction, as it would have been a fabulous choice for the longlist, at least.
June 13, 2019
First of my mini author binges is off to a flying start, as I think I’ve found a new favourite in Bodies of Light by Sarah Moss! Set during the early suffrage movement in England, we get to know a family of four - Alfred the father and painter, Elizabeth the puritanical mother obsessed with doing good for the poor and neglecting her own daughters in the process, Ally the eldest who finds herself at the forefront of the women’s higher education fight, and May, younger and naive but with a good heart.
.
I’ve never read anything set in this period before and I have REGRETS! Why haven’t I?! The fight of women to be allowed access to higher education, the outrage over the Contagious Diseases Act, it’s all so interesting and Moss handles it all so well! It’s only 300 pages and spans about 40 years in total, but it’s expertly plotted and paced and I never felt like we were rushing or dragging in one part or another.
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Although I enjoyed all the sections, from Elizabeth’s childhood, her struggles with early motherhood, through to Ally’s early days at school and adolescence, it was her experience being one of the first women to be allowed to study medicine in London that was my favourite part. Imagine how utterly terrifying and overwhelming it must have been to be the example for your entire sex - the eyes of the (male) world on you, waiting for you to slip up so they can dismiss the idea of women ever practising medicine properly... the pressure was huge and Moss depicts it perfectly.
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Ally’s struggles with her anxiety were another great aspect of this book, as during the time mental illnesses were not understood, brushed off as feminine hysteria and women banished to asylums with unthinkable conditions. I love how Moss shows that while medicine was advancing, mental illnesses remained very much invisible.
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I ALSO loved (yep this is a gushing review) that Ally fought back against the idea that women could either be liberated, independent and educated or start a family, no in between. This sort of backward thinking still permeates today, when the important thing is CHOICE.
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Basically, I am recommending this book WHOLE. HEARTEDLY.
.
I’ve never read anything set in this period before and I have REGRETS! Why haven’t I?! The fight of women to be allowed access to higher education, the outrage over the Contagious Diseases Act, it’s all so interesting and Moss handles it all so well! It’s only 300 pages and spans about 40 years in total, but it’s expertly plotted and paced and I never felt like we were rushing or dragging in one part or another.
.
Although I enjoyed all the sections, from Elizabeth’s childhood, her struggles with early motherhood, through to Ally’s early days at school and adolescence, it was her experience being one of the first women to be allowed to study medicine in London that was my favourite part. Imagine how utterly terrifying and overwhelming it must have been to be the example for your entire sex - the eyes of the (male) world on you, waiting for you to slip up so they can dismiss the idea of women ever practising medicine properly... the pressure was huge and Moss depicts it perfectly.
.
Ally’s struggles with her anxiety were another great aspect of this book, as during the time mental illnesses were not understood, brushed off as feminine hysteria and women banished to asylums with unthinkable conditions. I love how Moss shows that while medicine was advancing, mental illnesses remained very much invisible.
.
I ALSO loved (yep this is a gushing review) that Ally fought back against the idea that women could either be liberated, independent and educated or start a family, no in between. This sort of backward thinking still permeates today, when the important thing is CHOICE.
.
Basically, I am recommending this book WHOLE. HEARTEDLY.
November 30, 2024
Ця книжка точно ввійде в мій список десяти найкращих книжок року. Вона написана дуже майстерно. Тут немає жодної спроби сльозовидавлювання, а тема така, що розвернутися є де. Це спокійна оповідь у стилі неспішної британської класики XIX століття, але в якихось моментах ти раптом зависаєш на сторінці, і через кілька митей, коли розумієш, що авторка щойно сказала, проходить мороз поза шкірою.
Про що ця книжка?
Про Британію XIX століття.
Про одну з перших жінок, яка здобула медичну освіту.
Про рух суфражисток і жіночу освіту.
Про мудацький патріархальний світ, де жінка завинила лише одним своїм існуванням, і з нею можна робити що заманеться.
Про травмованих доньок травмованих матерів — і про трансформацію цієї травми.
Про тривожність, коли тебе ніколи не досить, і треба заслужити якщо не любов, то хоча б повагу матері.
Про тиск і напруженість, коли на тебе покладають надії стільки людей.
І зовсім трошки — про розуміння й підтримку, бажання допомагати й робити цей світ хоч на грамулічку привітнішим до жінок
Про що ця книжка?
Про Британію XIX століття.
Про одну з перших жінок, яка здобула медичну освіту.
Про рух суфражисток і жіночу освіту.
Про мудацький патріархальний світ, де жінка завинила лише одним своїм існуванням, і з нею можна робити що заманеться.
Про травмованих доньок травмованих матерів — і про трансформацію цієї травми.
Про тривожність, коли тебе ніколи не досить, і треба заслужити якщо не любов, то хоча б повагу матері.
Про тиск і напруженість, коли на тебе покладають надії стільки людей.
І зовсім трошки — про розуміння й підтримку, бажання допомагати й робити цей світ хоч на грамулічку привітнішим до жінок
April 9, 2022
Ну хоть начала по-русски читать иногда в условиях невозможности покупки книг на Амазоне. Перевод Насти Завозовой ❤❤
August 31, 2025
"Ми всі творимо історію... мить за миттю, з кожним обертом планети, майбутнє стає теперішнім, а потім - минулим."
July 13, 2023
I can see this was quite brilliant, yet I didn't enjoy it. I felt repeatedly beaten over the head with the same themes, until I wanted to run away.
December 10, 2016
After having a good but mostly forgettable experience with "Night Waking," I wasn't prepared to be blown away by this book. Moss's touch is deft and light as a feather, and she effortlessly balances Victorian and contemporary writing styles. I rarely think a book is too short, but this one flew by and left me wanting more. While I read, I found myself thinking over and over again, "This is such an achievement." If you have even the slightest interest in the 19th century or fraught family dynamics, read this book.
August 14, 2017
I really struggled with this.The subject matter and era greatly interests me but I found it slow and the writing dripping with a sensuality that often seemed inappropriate. I wasn't enamoured with the characters either, most of which seemed one dimensional and too predictable.
July 22, 2017
I'm not sure why I didn't enjoy this more. Perhaps it was the right book at the wrong time. That being said I did still enjoy this. It was a fast read, especially for historical fiction. The time period was subtly and believably captured. I loved all the discussions on women's rights, prostitution, poverty, insane asylums and the beginning of formally trained women doctors in England. That was my favorite part of the novel. But I didn't find the characters or plot to be compelling or even very memorable. However I am looking forward to reading the sequel and learning more about the Victorian Era.
January 28, 2025
Review from first read in 2018:
Bodies of Light is a historical novel taking place in the mid-1800s and which centres on women’s fight to become doctors and in general be considered (more) equal to men in a time where a woman walking alone could be arrested on the suspicion of being a prostitute. In relation to this, it touches upon the ‘weakness’ of women and the notion of ‘hysteria’, while also dealing with such inherent human themes as motherhood, love, religion, and reason.
While the book turns out to be mainly about the two sisters May and Ally, we first become acquainted with their mother, Elizabeth, in the first few chapters. While it seems strange at first to be introduced to all of her thoughts and feelings at the beginning of her marriage to then leave her inner world entirely behind in favour of Ally’s point of view, it quickly becomes clear that we need to know her reasons for behaving as she does and being the mother she is.
While it is a quick read, it’s not a light read, not by far. I should warn anyone picking it up that it deals with mental health, a mild version of self-harm, and generally brutal subjects such as mental and physical abuse and rape/assaults. I found myself feeling anxious on a fair few occasions (besides wanting to say an angry word or ten to the mother..), but I was entirely gripped the whole way through. I did not want to put it down. Sarah Moss has, with one single book, become a new favourite author of mine. In fact, I just ordered two more of Sarah Moss’ books as soon as I finished this one. Her writing is simple and accessible but has such depth and truth to it, and I found myself being more engrossed than I have in a long while.
A nice touch that I liked a lot was how (fictionalised) contemporary descriptions of paintings painted by the father, who is an artist, (and the father’s artist friend) were used as chapter introductions, that would then reveal themselves to be key to the events of the chapter as you read on. That was an original spin on the genre and I always appreciate original spins.
There can be no surprise about my rating: 5 glorious stars.
Additional thoughts from reread in 2025:
I was outraged anew at Elizabeth as a mother, her methods and how Ally was completely powerless against her will, until she finally gets away from her and slowly learns to see the world from a different perspective. I was once again angered by the unfairness of her treatment of Ally, who only ever wanted to make her proud and who did everything she wanted, but who is still, somehow, unfathomably, the least loved of the two sisters. Did Elizabeth resent her because she never attempted to rebel against her? Was that a sign of weakness to her?
Elizabeth and her own mother – the sisters’ ‘Grandmamma’ – are the worst kind of feminists. They maintain that women and men are equal, that women can and should be able to do anything that men can and do, yet they scorn the women who do not have their own mindset, accuse them of weakness, of lesser morality, lesser intelligence, of not being beneficial to their sex. They take pleasure in feeling superior, yet find no fault with themselves for this pleasure.
Phew. Still a tense and not too happy book, but my goodness is it a brilliant one. Can’t wait to reread Night Waking next.
Bodies of Light is a historical novel taking place in the mid-1800s and which centres on women’s fight to become doctors and in general be considered (more) equal to men in a time where a woman walking alone could be arrested on the suspicion of being a prostitute. In relation to this, it touches upon the ‘weakness’ of women and the notion of ‘hysteria’, while also dealing with such inherent human themes as motherhood, love, religion, and reason.
While the book turns out to be mainly about the two sisters May and Ally, we first become acquainted with their mother, Elizabeth, in the first few chapters. While it seems strange at first to be introduced to all of her thoughts and feelings at the beginning of her marriage to then leave her inner world entirely behind in favour of Ally’s point of view, it quickly becomes clear that we need to know her reasons for behaving as she does and being the mother she is.
While it is a quick read, it’s not a light read, not by far. I should warn anyone picking it up that it deals with mental health, a mild version of self-harm, and generally brutal subjects such as mental and physical abuse and rape/assaults. I found myself feeling anxious on a fair few occasions (besides wanting to say an angry word or ten to the mother..), but I was entirely gripped the whole way through. I did not want to put it down. Sarah Moss has, with one single book, become a new favourite author of mine. In fact, I just ordered two more of Sarah Moss’ books as soon as I finished this one. Her writing is simple and accessible but has such depth and truth to it, and I found myself being more engrossed than I have in a long while.
A nice touch that I liked a lot was how (fictionalised) contemporary descriptions of paintings painted by the father, who is an artist, (and the father’s artist friend) were used as chapter introductions, that would then reveal themselves to be key to the events of the chapter as you read on. That was an original spin on the genre and I always appreciate original spins.
There can be no surprise about my rating: 5 glorious stars.
Additional thoughts from reread in 2025:
I was outraged anew at Elizabeth as a mother, her methods and how Ally was completely powerless against her will, until she finally gets away from her and slowly learns to see the world from a different perspective. I was once again angered by the unfairness of her treatment of Ally, who only ever wanted to make her proud and who did everything she wanted, but who is still, somehow, unfathomably, the least loved of the two sisters. Did Elizabeth resent her because she never attempted to rebel against her? Was that a sign of weakness to her?
Elizabeth and her own mother – the sisters’ ‘Grandmamma’ – are the worst kind of feminists. They maintain that women and men are equal, that women can and should be able to do anything that men can and do, yet they scorn the women who do not have their own mindset, accuse them of weakness, of lesser morality, lesser intelligence, of not being beneficial to their sex. They take pleasure in feeling superior, yet find no fault with themselves for this pleasure.
Phew. Still a tense and not too happy book, but my goodness is it a brilliant one. Can’t wait to reread Night Waking next.
September 17, 2024
«фух, нарешті»,– можу сказати я.
анотація книги не зовсім відповідає реальності, тому я очікувала від сюжету трохи іншого: більшої динаміки, цікавіших героїв, подій. ну і десь на 3/4 книжки я зрозуміла, що цього не буде.
хоча останні 150 електронних сторінок були ще більш-менш, бо почало хоч щось відбуватися.
бо так-то протягом читання відбувається приблизно три події, що хоч якось вражають або викликають емоції. в інший час історія просто йде, йде, йде і йде.
більшу частину часу було нудно, хоча перспективи ця книга мала цікаві.
анотація книги не зовсім відповідає реальності, тому я очікувала від сюжету трохи іншого: більшої динаміки, цікавіших героїв, подій. ну і десь на 3/4 книжки я зрозуміла, що цього не буде.
хоча останні 150 електронних сторінок були ще більш-менш, бо почало хоч щось відбуватися.
бо так-то протягом читання відбувається приблизно три події, що хоч якось вражають або викликають емоції. в інший час історія просто йде, йде, йде і йде.
більшу частину часу було нудно, хоча перспективи ця книга мала цікаві.
October 16, 2016
4.5 stars. A beautiful, moving story.
February 26, 2023
Sarah Moss is a bit of a hit and miss author for me, but there's something beguiling about her work, to the point that I've almost made my way through her entire back catalogue. Bodies of Light belongs to the genre of what I would call 'female costume drama', a genre dominated by the likes of Sarah Waters, Emma Donoghue, A.S Byatt and Maggie O'Farrell. It is not my favourite genre, but there was something in the cover and the blurb that drew me in. I found Bodies of Light surprisingly compelling. At its heart is a complicated relationship between an abusive mother who tries to live her dreams through her daughters, and her eldest daughter, the more compliant and meek one. The relationship and the character of the mother deserve much more credit that the 'monster' other reviewers branded her as. One of my favourite lines in the novel is 'people who do not spare themselves rarely spare others', which I think brilliantly sums up the tremendous work Moss did in setting up the central conflict and drawing her characters. The mother is abusive and the upbringing is monstrous, but there is much more complexity and nuance to it. Brilliantly written, difficult to put down, would work for those looking for character studies and beautiful prose.
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February 12, 2018This is a book I was reading as part of the #WellcomeBookPrize project I am doing with Elena, but I found I just couldn't get into the writing style of this at all and I really didn't enjoy what had happened in the first 15% or so (it was quite tedious and dull) so I decided to DNF this sadly.
July 4, 2022
Четвёртая звезда за перевод.
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