Based on actual events, Pamela is the story of a young girl who goes to work in a private residence and finds herself pursued by her employer's son, described as a 'gentleman of free principles.' Unfolding through letters, the novel depicts with much feeling Pamela's struggles to decide how to respond to her would-be seducer and to determine her place in society.
Pamela (1740) and Clarissa Harlowe (1748) of English writer Samuel Richardson helped to legitimize the novel as a literary form in English.
An established printer and publisher for most of his life, Richardson wrote his first novel at the age of 51. He is best known for his major 18th-century epistolary novel Sir Charles Grandison (1753).
Reading Pamela is a very intense experience: at times profoundly boring, for the work (or this Volume 1 at least) is resolutely repetitious. The same situation, and the same arguments are thrust at us over and over again, with only the most subtle variations on the theme. However, this repetition could also be likened to a baroque fugue or canon. The same theme is worked and reworked, each scene folding into the others, over and over again until a most complex tapestry of obsession is woven indeed. The interest in Pamela is the obsessive search for identity embedded within it. An identity that Pamela searches for, like we all do, through her own narrative. But the narrative also involves her Master, and I think it is precisely the discovery of her writings about him that contributes to his own tremendous obsession with Pamela. If Pamela had not been the chronicler of his primary infatuation for her, that obsession would probably have waned. But through Pamela's letters and journals, the Master is also thrown into a journey of discovering his own identity, described through Pamela's narration. His relationship with Pamela becomes an infatuation not to possess Pamela but to redirect the course of the narrative she develops about "him". And this is interesting because it brings up a profound question about the role of literature itself. To what extent is one's experience with literature about one's self-discovery through the works we read?
Don't ask how I liked this better than Moll Flanders, because I actually don't understand it either.
I think it was the writing style. In my opinion, and even though the objective content was repetitive (Yes, Pamela, oh poor Pamela!), I'm one of those people who love the epistolary format. Hence, the first half when we actually got to read some of the parent's replies were my favourite. I imagine the fictional reader knowing about the where-abouts of their daughter. I still don't know what Pamela's work was in neither of her houses. Yes, a servant; yes, she had an owner/master. We never see her actually working. It's like she's ashamed of it, because I know it's not necessary to repeat so, so many times, about her misfortunes. This book is like taking a romance novel where the big picture is so blurred by the character's semi-Quixotian view of her own life, the relatability is broken and instead the picture we see is an exaggerated first perspective; an eventual unreliable narrator.
This is not to say Pamela lied. I do believe she has been abused by her masters, and that she deserves way better (I was happy she almost made it out by Ridiculous? Perhaps for us, but at the time it probably made sense).
I don't recommend it, not necessary if you're not actually going to study it. Not enjoyable in my opinion.