Man and Maid

by Elinor Glyn

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Genres: Romance, Fiction

256 pages, Paperback

Published February 8, 2008

About the author

Elinor Sutherland was born in St Helier, Jersey, the younger daughter of Douglas Sutherland (1838–1865), a civil engineer of Scottish descent, and his wife Elinor Saunders (1841–1937).

Her father died when Elinor was two months old and her mother returned to the parental home in Guelph, Ontario, Canada with her two daughters, Lucy Christiana and Elinor.

Back in Canada, Elinor was schooled by her grandmother, Lucy Anne Saunders, in the ways of upper-class society. This early training not only gave her an entrée into aristocratic circles on her return to Europe, but it led to her being considered an authority on style and breeding when she worked in Hollywood in the 1920s.

Her mother remarried a Mr. Kennedy in 1871 and when Elinor was eight years old the family returned to Jersey. When there her schooling continued at home with a succession of governesses.

Elinor married Clayton Louis Glyn (1857–1915), a wealthy but spendthrift landowner, on 27 April 1892. The couple had two daughters, Margot and Juliet, but the marriage apparently foundered on mutual incompatibility although the couple remained together.

As a consequence Elinor had affairs with a succession of British aristocrats and some of her books are supposedly based on her various affairs, such as 'Three Weeks' (1907), allegedly inspired by her affair with Lord Alistair Innes Ker. That affair caused quite a furore and scandalized Edwardian society and one of the scenes in the book had one unnamed poet writing,
Would you like to sin
With Elinor Glyn
On a tiger skin?
Or would you prefer
To err with her
On some other fur?

She had began her writing in 1900, starting with a book based on letters to her mother, 'The Visits of Elizabeth'. And thereafter she more or less wrote one book each year to keep the wolf from the door, as her husband was debt-ridden from 1908, and also to keep up her standard of living. After several years of illness her husband died in 1915.

Early in her writing career she was recognised as one of the pioneers of what could be called erotic fiction, although not by modern-day standards, and she coined the use of the world 'It' to mean at the time sex-appeal and she helped to make Clara Bow a star by the use of the sobriquet for her of 'The It Girl'.

On the strength of her reputation and success she moved to Hollywood in 1920 and in 1921 was featured as one of the famous personalities in a Ralph Barton cartoon drawn especially for 'Vanity Fair' magazine.

A number of her books were made into films, most notably 'Beyond the Rocks' (1906), which starred Rudolph Valentino and Gloria Swanson, and she was a scriptwriter for the silent movie industry, working for both MGM and Paramount Pictures in the mid-1920s. In addition she also had a brief career as one of the earliest female directors.

In 1927, by which time she had published 32 novels, she once again appeared in some verse of the day. Songsmith Lorenz Hart immortalised her in his song 'My Heart Stood Still' when he wrote,
I read my Plato
Love, I thought a sin
But since your kiss
I'm reading missus Glyn!

She was so universally popular and well-known in the 1920s that she even made a cameo appearance as herself in the 1928 film 'Show People'.

As well as her novels, she wrote wrote magazine articles for the Hearst Press giving advice on 'how to keep your man' and also giving health and beauty tips. In 1922 she published 'The Elinor Glyn System of Writing', which gives an insight into writing for Hollywood studios and magazine editors.

In later life she moved to the United Kingdom, settling in London. She wrote over 40 books, the last of which was 'The Third Eye' (1940) and she died in Chelsea on 23 September 1943, being survived by her two daughters.

Gerry Wolstenholme
November 2010

Reviews

[Amy · Rating 2 out of 5]

1.5 stars
Not my favorite vintage read—though I'm sure for the time it was properly scandalous.
The story follows a wealthy, wounded soldier who splits his time feeling sorry for himself, paying prostitutes, and feeling superior to his friends. He eventually hires a secretary and becomes intrigued when he realizes she wears hideous, tinted glasses to hide her beauty from loutish employers like him. His obsession grows and eventually he bribes the girl into marrying him, all with the hope of winning her love.
Any story that describes an ideal woman as possessing the mind of a man, heart of a woman, and spirit of a child will make me cringe. But this story in particular hammers home all kinds of dated, unpleasant romance tropes. I found it particularly hard to like the main character, who justifies his abusive, asshole behavior because he "worships the ground" his lady-love walks on.
The main theme of the story seems to be that love only exists if unattainable. As soon as love is reciprocated, it ceases to matter. Lovers must therefore always play hard-to-get, otherwise they will lose. Unless you meet your soulmate...and then perhaps it doesn't matter? I'm sure it got hammered out somewhere (the book is 80% vaguely offensive philosophizing.)
Overall the story has a Cinderella-esque quality about it that might have made it really good. Even perhaps getting a POV from the secretary could have saved it. But instead we get a truly insufferable narrator, long chunks of musings about love and romance, and an ending that left a bad taste in my mouth. Our poor heroine deserved better.

[K.W. McCabe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent Classic Romance, April 4, 2012
By K.W. McCabe "kwmccabe" (MN, usa) - See all my reviewsThis review is from: Man and Maid (Kindle Edition)
Man and Maid by Elinor Glyn is the tale of Nicholas Thormond and Alathea Sharp. Nicholas is a soldier returned home from the war, wounded in body and spirit. He flings himself into various relationships attempting to alleviate his inner torment and self-hatred. Unable to find something to relieve his disgust with life, he decides to write a book. He hires Alathea Sharp to assist him in this process.

During their interactions, he begins to discover an interest in things outside of his own suffering: The meaning of life and the purpose of learning the lessons provided by personal suffering. As he grows more aware of his own faults, he realizes he's fallen in love with Alathea- but she can't stand him.

From there commences his plan to win her heart.

This story is one of the best romances I have ever read. There was no cliche lines of love, no falling in love at first sight, none of the idiocy which happens in romances all too often nowadays.

Nicholas' transformation from self-loathing indulgence to self-control and self-efficacy is believable and satisfying. The relationship and struggles between Nicholas and Althea are amusing and the language and history evident in the tale were engaging.

This is truly a must-read for lovers of romance. I give this story 5 stars.

[Jen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh this is just a fantastically cheesy old-time romance.

[Batgrl (Book Data Kept Elsewhere) · Rating 2 out of 5]

It was hard to pick which edition - I read this thanks to it being free on Gutenberg (here). I was led to Glyn after reading a delightful review by Dorothy Parker (I quoted some here), and was curious as to whether other Glyn books would be as (unconsciously) amusing.

This particular book was published in 1922, just to give you a time frame on this so you can have a heads up that the allusions to sex in it - tame for our year - are racy for that date.

This is a book where I was just waiting to find some of the humorous bits that Parker had cited in It - but due to the topic of Paris in wartime, with a narrator who's a wounded former-soldier - well, the over the top silliness wasn't quite there with that setting. And I found myself actually enjoying reading it here and there - it may have helped that I could read the French and knew the places that were referred to.

But! I did find a few instances of the unintentionally humorous writing that Parker was mocking. And of course the melodrama runs high here and there, but that's the era's romance novel for you. This one is actually kinda mild in comparison to some of the other poorly written novels of the time which I couldn't finish - the writing was that awful. Glyn is definitely still readable, and not as sappy as some. (Though there is indeed sap, oh yes.) So there's that to be said.

If you want to read on with my ramblings and quotes in an As I Read It kinda way, here you go. I've quoted huge chunks here and there, some to give an idea of the style of writing, some for the silliness, and some for the historical WW1 interest. Skip to the bold areas for the more silly bits:
______________________________

Now some quotes to give you an idea of the tone. The book's opening paragraphs, which pretty well sum up Nicholas, our narrator/leading man:

"I am sick of my life—The war has robbed it of all that a young man can find of joy.

I look at my mutilated face before I replace the black patch over the left eye, and I realize that, with my crooked shoulder, and the leg gone from the right knee downwards, that no woman can feel emotion for me again in this world.

So be it—I must be a philosopher.

Mercifully I have no near relations—Mercifully I am still very rich, mercifully I can buy love when I require it, which under the circumstances, is not often.

Why do people write journals? Because human nature is filled with egotism. There is nothing so interesting to oneself as oneself; and journals cannot yawn in one's face, no matter how lengthy the expression of one's feelings may be!"

And from Chapter 2:

""I think all our true feeling is used up, Nicholas—our souls—if we have souls—are blunted by the war agony. Only our senses still feel. When Jim looks at me with his attractive blue eyes, and I see the D.S.O. and the M.C., and his white nice teeth—and how his hair is brushed, and how well his uniform fits, I have a jolly all-overish sensation—and I don't much listen to what he is saying—he says lots of love—and I think I would really like him all the time. Then, when he has gone I think of other things, and I feel he would not understand a word about them, and because he isn't there I don't feel the delicious all-overish sensation, so I rather decide to marry Rochester—there would be such risk—because when you are married to a man, it is possible to get much fonder of him. Jim is a year younger than I am—It would be a strain, perhaps in a year or two—especially if I got fond."

"You had better take the richer," I told her—"Money stands by one, it is an attraction which even the effects of war never varies or lessens," and I could hear that there was bitterness in my voice.

"You are quite right," Nina said, taking no notice of it—"but I don't want money—I have enough for every possible need, and my boy has his own. I want something kind and affectionate to live with."

"You want a master—and a slave."

"Yes."

..."We have grown so awfully selfish, haven't we, Nicholas, but we aren't such hypocrites as we were before the war. People still have lovers, but they don't turn up their eyes so much at other people having them, as they used. There is more tolerance—the only thing you cannot do is to act publicly so that your men friends cannot defend you—'You must not throw your bonnet over the windmills'—otherwise you can do as you please—."

"You had not thought of taking either Jim or24 Rochester for a lover to make certain which you prefer?"

Nina looked unspeakably shocked—.

"What a dreadful idea Nicholas!—I am thinking of both seriously, not only to pass the time of day remember."

"That is all lovers are for, then Nina?—I used to think—."

"Never mind what you thought, there is no reason to insult me."

..."You are not a bit worse off than Tom Green, Nicholas, and he has not got your money, and Tom is as jolly as anything, and everybody loves him, though he is a hopeless cripple, and can't even look decent, as you will be able to in a year or two. There is no use in having this sentiment about war heroes that would make one put up with their tempers, and their cynicism! Everybody is in the same boat, women and men, we chance being maimed by bombs, and we are losing our looks with rough work—for goodness sake stop being so soured—."

I laughed outright—it was all so true."

So with the war thing I was thinking - besides the dis-likability of Nicolas (purposeful at this point, I'm pretty sure) - there wasn't going to be much to mock. I mean, the most humorous so far was Nicholas writing/journaling/whatevering:

"...There is a mole on the left cheek of Suzette, high up near her eye, there are three black hairs in it—I had never seen them until this morning—c'est fini—je ne puis plus!"

at the end of Chapter 2. But that sentence is immediately followed by:

"Of course we have all got moles with three black hairs in them—and the awful moment is when suddenly they are seen—That is the tragedy of life—disillusion."

So there, self realization, and not really mockable. Except maybe the "we have all got moles" line. And except in his continual Alas Poor Me mode. Will see what further chapters bring...

...the Poor Me mode abates a bit so Nicholas can wish that he could get back into the fight (Paris is threatened). So we understand that it has nothing to do with courage, etc.

...And now he is falling in love (or in early stages of it) with the typist he's hired, who started out as thin and not attractive, and of course the longer he knows her the more he's finding about her attractive. I kind of like her - the test will be to see how the author has her react when we come to the But Yes, She Loves Him Too.

Must remember to find out if the photos in this ebook are from a film or a play of the material. ...And right after I added that the caption on the next photo says "A scene from Elinor Glyn's production "Man and Maid" Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (1925).

A quote (as I'm reading this online I have no idea how to note where this is) with an interesting take on the area during the war, specifically how the art was preserved (an attempt anyway):

"How I love Versailles...

Why did I not come here sooner? I am at peace with the world—Burton wheels me up onto the terrace every evening to watch the sunset from the top of the great steps. All the masterpieces are covered with pent houses of concrete faced with straw, but the lesser gods and goddesses must take their chance.

And sitting here with peaceful families near me—old gentlemen—soldiers on leave—a pretty war widow with a great white dog—children with spades—all watching the glorious sky, seated in groups on the little iron park chairs, a sense of stupefaction comes over me—for a hundred or two kilometres away men are killing one another—women are searching for some trace of their homes—the ground is teeming with corpses—the air is fœtid with the smell of death! And yet we enjoy the opal sunset at Versailles and smile at the quaint appearance of the camouflaged bronzes!"

...Start of chapter 8 and now Nicholas and his typist are having a discussion about reincarnation and Karma. It's not so much laughable as a "wait, how did we get here" moment. (Spiritualism was big at the time, but it's more that this fits badly into the plot except as a point in which to lecture on the subject.) Oddly the Moberly-Jorndain incident is referred to, not by name of course, but I immediately knew that was the reference from Nicholas' line:

"The two old ladies seeing Marie Antoinette and some other ghosts here."

...Ah, now here we go. Here's some nice eyerolling material:

"...She has a darling tiny curl which comes behind her ear, slipped down probably because her hair is so unfashionably dressed—None of Suzette's "geste," nor even the subtle perfect taste of the fluffies.—It is just torn back and rolled into a tight twist. But now that I see her out of doors and in perspective I realize that she has a lovely small figure, and that everything is in the right place."

What are all the wrong places that everything could be? (Yes I'm trying to channel Parker, and it's probably not working but I am amusing myself at least.)

Earlier Nicholas has defined fluffies as roughly a group of women who are self centered, all about getting pleasure despite the war, not in it for love, etc. etc. Something along those lines. A chunk of these women are basically prostitutes, but this is alluded to and that exact word not used.

...And again, here is more fodder! Again, bolded so you'll be unable to miss the funny:

"...Miss Sharp took a little parc chair and I was able to watch her as she read—I did not even hear the words—because, as she was looking down I had not to guard myself, but could let my eye devour her small oval face. All my nerves were thrilling again and there was no peace—how I longed—ached—to take her into my arms!"

I fear an Eye which could devour! It can consume your face! In that direction lies the scifi monster movie! Fear the Devouring Eye!!! If there's actually not a B movie with that title, then there should be.

...Oh now this is delightful. Glyn references herself in her own book:

"..."I am—not quite sure of that, Nicholas"—and she looked at me searchingly—"You are changed since last time—you are not so bitter and sardonic—and you, always have that—oh! you know what Elinor Glyn writes of in her books—that "it."—Some kind of attraction that has no name—but I am sure has a lot to do with love—."

"So you think I have got 'it,' Nina?"

"Yes, your clothes fit so well—and you say rather whimsical things—Yes, decidedly, Nicholas, now that you are not so bitter—I am sure—."

"What a pity you did not find that out before you took Jim, Nina!"

...Things are wrapping up very nicely at this point. Glyn is actually quite clever in keeping the feelings of our typist heroine under wraps for the most part, because that way we don't get an overdose of the angst, and plus - mystery. So there's that for the good.

...And it turns into He is Madly in Love Yet Pretends Not To Be To Make Her Jealous and so she'll realize she loves him. It's sort of fun how romance plot setups haven't changed too much in the past 90 years. And of course the She Has to Surrender And Admit Her Feelings First, Before He Tells Her He Loves Her bit. And he must "master her." Bleh.

...Oh dear, there's poetry. I almost feel like I should have been warned about that somewhere...

"When some strong-souls shall conquer their division,
And two shall be as one eternally!
Finding at last upon each others breasts
Unutterable calm and infinite rest."

I'll just let that stand, as is.

...Oh help, he's really into her nostrils:

"Any student of physiognomy can see that those delicate little nostrils show passion, and that cupid's bow of a mouth will delight in kisses!"

There's a lot about dealing with an amputation that makes me wonder if Glyn knew someone in real life that underwent the same thing. Also, randomly in this quote - out of nowhere - there are penguins:

"...I wonder if all the hundreds of other fellows who lost a leg below the knee and were cripples for eighteen months felt the same as I did when the new limb was fixed, and they stood upon two feet again for the first time.

A strange, almost mad sense of exaltation filled me. I could walk! I was no longer a prisoner, dependent upon the devotion of attendants!

I should no longer have to have things placed within reach, and be made to realize impotency!

...I wanted to run about! I wanted to shout and sing. I played idiotic tricks, walking backwards and forwards, like one of Shackleton's penguins. Then I went back to the glass again, actually whistling a tune! Except for the black patch over my eye, I appeared very much the same as I used to do before the war. My shoulder is practically straight now. I am a little thinner, and perhaps my face bears traces of suffering, but in general I don't look much altered."

I know who Shakleton is, but dropping him and the penguins in is yet another of those "how did we get here" moments.

...There's a lot of the word "Hein" in the French language sections, so in case anyone else wonders (and has read this far):
French-English translation for "Hein!"
Short version: It has multiple meanings, dependent on how you use it in a sentence. Tricky, huh.

[Lance · Rating 5 out of 5]

On the negative side, the narrator of the novel was very manipulative and chauvinistic. Some of the philosophical musings were repeated quite a few times.
On the plus side, the female author created a male, disabled war veteran and presented his innermost thoughts with remarkable insight and clarity. A century after publication, a modern reader, especially a female reader, might condemn the narrator for being so manipulative, aristocratic and sexist. (The narrator reminded me of Rochester in Jane Eyre.) I felt the character defects of the narrator were partly a function of his insecurity. They were counter-balanced by his generosity.
I debated between four or five stars. I gave it five stars for the female author's creation of a male, disabled veteran's thoughts in such depth.

[Noël Cades · Rating 5 out of 5]

Glorious, vintage romance in an atmospheric setting of Paris towards the end of the Great War.

Sir Nicholas has been injured in action: he has lost an eye and a leg. Still a very handsome and virile man, he has nonetheless become disillusioned with life.

Persuaded to write a book, he hires an apparently dowdy secretary, "Miss Sharp", who insists on wearing yellow-lensed horn-rimmed glasses to hide her eyes.

* Which are naturally dazzling blue. And beautiful.
* And her background is far from humble.
* And she's far less indifferent to him than he thinks.

What follows is a fairly conventional melodrama of suppressed feelings and misunderstandings and a "marriage in name only" - when they're both crazy about one another.

What makes this book so remarkable is the language and the period detail. There are so many intelligent and interesting characters with sharp little observations to make. This one in particular fascinated me:

"It is well that you are English, Nicholas. No Frenchman of family could have married the daughter of a man who had cheated at cards."

"Even if the girl was good and splendid like Alathea, Duchesse?"

"For that, no, my son, we have little left but our traditions, and our names, and those things matter to us. No, frankly, I could not have permitted the union had you been my son."

Were the relics of French aristocracy really this severe well into the 20th century? Perhaps they were.

I would have liked one more chapter. Just as with many films of the era, it does end rather abruptly (though of course happily). I suppose even Elinor Glyn couldn't take us into the marriage bed, but she might have given us a glimpse of the couple a year or so later. Perhaps that's what our imaginations are for.

There's a lost 1925 silent movie of this book, and what a pity it is lost because it would be glorious to see a near-contemporary production of it. There's a still image of it here, and the Gutenberg text of it contains several more production stills.

[Patrizia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Il romanzo è concepito come un diario, scritto da un soldato inglese seriamente mutilato, fermo a Parigi durante la prima guerra mondiale.
Il suo unico punto debole sta proprio qui: la figura maschile che emerge dalle parole del protagonista presenta più di un tratto sgradevole, e non è chiaro quanto ciò sia intenzionale, o sia dovuto alla difficoltà incontrata dall'autrice nell'immedesimarsi nel ruolo. Ma nel complesso la storia è interessante, soprattutto perché offre uno sguardo diretto sulla vita (tra vizi ed eroismo) di una capitale europea straziata dalle bombe...

[Perry Whitford · Rating 1 out of 5]

Sir Nicholas Thormonde lost an eye and the lower half of a leg in the early stages of WWI, so he is left to brood via a journal in his luxurious Paris flat as the fighting nears an end, soured by his mutilation and surrounded by vacuous society girls (named 'fluffies') and previous fiances who now treat him like a brother.

He decides to write a book, so enter Miss Sharp in her horn-rimmed spectacles, a cliched plain-Jane from the hoariest of Hollywood melodramas. They don't get on initially, then he becomes besotted with her, leading them to enter into an implausible, idiotic agreement which acts as cover to their true feelings.

Elinor Glyn was a famous Hollywood scriptwriter and guru of the 1920's. Her patronizing ideas about breeding permeate this tawdry book like mustard gas, whilst her character's idea of love is to prattle on indulgently about suffering, then become instantly exasperated and near violent whenever the object of his affection doesn't respond warmly to him.

Miss Sharp appears to be from a lower social order than Sir Nicholas, but I fancy that I won't be required to tick the 'spoilers' box when I reveal that this is not the case. Glasses removed, her only blemish are her hands, red from attending to her sick brother, who fortunately gets killed off, so even her mits soon scrub up to Sir Nicholas's standards.

Glyn looks like a formidable figure in the few black and white photographs I could find online and she was considered a scurrilous writer in her time. Within the first few lines of Sir Nicholas's journal he notes how 'mercifully I can buy love when I require it', while one of his female companions, Suzette, is unquestionably a paid prostitute.

However, like the worst of Hollywood, even today, you can tell that this fancies itself as sophisticated fair when, in fact - to use one of its own pet phrases - it's decidedly vulgar.

Glyn popularized the sex appeal notion of 'It' and she even name drops herself in this book, itself an act of obvious vulgarity.

I wanted to get a glimpse of Hollywood mores from one its golden decades, a period pretty much lost to an audience of my age because the silent movies produced then have been forever superseded by the 'talkies' that soon followed.

All Man and Maid proved to me is that Hollywood has always been a place where crass is confused with class, where titillation is presented as taste and mutton can dress as lamb without shame.

Utter garbage.

[Rosanna · Rating 3 out of 5]

I had been somewhat interested in reading a book by Elinor Glyn since seeing the silent movie "It" about a year ago, which she had a hand in making. Although her most scandalous book is apparently "Three Weeks," the plot synopsis of "Man and Maid" sounded more appealing. This book was about what I expected after reading up on Glyn's claim to fame (rather corny romance novels), though perhaps not as salacious (watch out for that stolen kiss mid-novel; it causes quite a stir!). But nonetheless it was entertaining and I liked that it was from the perspective of a WWI veteran. I don't know if I will be reading anymore Glyn books in the future, but this one's glimpse of the war from a 1920s perspective made it a fun read.

[Susan Molloy · Rating 3 out of 5]

The other evening, I was watching the film, "The Music Man." Marian Paroo (Shirley Jones) mentioned the author Elinor Glyn, and I decided to reacqauint myself with this author. I picked up "Man and Maid," and read it. I found it to be dramatic, overwro

[Susan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting period piece. Very readable & surprisingly entertaining.

[Rohanita · Rating 3 out of 5]

Writer managed to invoke my interest throughout. Interesting insights to the men of that era. The relationships between men and women of that time. Life of an aristocrat and socialites during WW1.

[keereads · Rating 3 out of 5]

Read

[Ash Kay · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just as good as the first time I read it. Such a sweet romance :)