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Marriage
Marriage (1818) is the shrewdly observant tale of a young woman's struggles with parental authority and courtship. Like her contemporaries, Maria Edgeworth and Jane Austen, Susan Ferrier adopts an ideal of rational domesticity, illustrating the virtues of a reasonable heroine who learns to act
for herself. This new edition features an introduction incorporating recent critical work on national identity and gender, and firmly situating the novel within the context of both Scottish literature and women's writing.
for herself. This new edition features an introduction incorporating recent critical work on national identity and gender, and firmly situating the novel within the context of both Scottish literature and women's writing.
494 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1818
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About the author
Susan Edmonstone Ferrier
42 books17 followersSusan Edmonstone Ferrier was a Scottish novelist. Her novels, giving vivid accounts of Scottish life and presenting sharp views on women's education, remained popular throughout the 19th century.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 81 reviews
July 30, 2019
I found this an interesting read, and quite an enjoyable and funny one, though the characterisation was a little flat throughout, and the pacing a little odd. I felt about this as I often feel about novels by contemporaries of Jane Austen . . . It's just less good than Jane Austen!
June 4, 2018
Susan Ferrier’s Marriage (1818) was republished a few years ago with a sales pitch touting Ferrier as the “Scottish Jane Austen.” I’m not sure that comparison entirely works in Ferrier’s favour. Anyone approaching the novel expecting an echo of Austen’s poised irony and rigorous stylistic minimalism is likely to be disappointed. Ferrier is more rollicking and broader in style and more digressive in structure, nearer to Scott (who was a friend of hers) than to Austen. Closer still as a comparison is Fanny Burney, whose breezy wit Ferrier shares, and who proved similarly popular with audiences. Marriage was a roaring success, and Ferrier sold the copyright of her second novel six years later for £1,000 (£890 more than poor old Austen received for Pride and Prejudice in 1813.)
Where Austen’s novels end with happy marriages, Ferrier’s Marriage begins with a spectacularly mismatched one. In the first pages of the book, the beautiful, birdbrained Lady Juliana, daughter of the Earl of Courtland, rejects her arranged marriage to a middle-aged duke and elopes instead with her dashing young Scottish lover. Before she knows it, Juliana finishes up penniless and dependent, living with her husband’s family in the Highlands, where her aristocratic tastes are constantly outraged by the crudeness of the life and diet (herrings! quelle horreur!), and the eccentricities of the swarm of aunts and sisters and neighbors to whom she is subjected. She is saved only when her husband manages to patch things up with his guardian, who had disowned him on his marriage.
Although the lapdog-loving ego monster Lady Juliana is a good comic character, I found the Scottish segment of the novel a little tiresome. The comic aunts, in particular, overstayed their welcome. Things improve in the second half of the novel, set seventeen years after the first, when Lady Juliana’s neglected daughter Mary, brought up in Scotland by Juliana’s morally exemplary sister-in-law Alicia, goes to live with her mother and her spoilt twin sister Adelaide in Juliana’s brother’s country mansion near Bath. It is this segment of the novel that is closest to Austen territory, as Mary and Adelaide negotiate their own courtship narratives. I was reminded, in particular, of Mansfield Park (1814), with Mary taking the Fanny Price role.
As Austen found herself with Fanny Price, the downtrodden, God-fearing, good girl is not a particularly easy sell as a heroine, although Ferrier succeeds reasonably well with Mary, who is given a little more humour and mischief than Fanny. The scene-stealing character in this segment, for me—and I suspect for most modern readers—was Mary’s sardonic, outspoken cousin, Lady Emily Courtland. Emily plays the same leavening role in Marriage that Mary Crawford does in Mansfield Park, yet she is not a negative character like Crawford. She is supportive to Mary, however much she teases her about her piety and moral seriousness, and the two girls’ friendship acts as the emotional pivot of the novel, more than any of the romantic relationships portrayed.
The Mary-Emily pairing is expressive of the dual character of the novel, earnestly moralizing on the one hand, lively and satirical on the other. Alongside her main characters, Ferrier is constantly introducing micro-sketches of amusing social types, mainly female. Some of these caricatures work better than others, but, at their best, they can be genuinely funny. I especially liked the salon of pretentious, Byron-worshipping bluestockings hosted in Bath by the formidable Mrs Bluemits ("nothing but conversation was spoken in her house.") There are some very funny passages in the main story, also, such as Mary’s eagerly-awaited, sentimentally-anticipated reunion with the mother who abandoned her at birth.
Mary, at length, slowly unclosing her eyes, stretched out her hands, and faintly articulated, “My mother!”
“Mother! What a hideous vulgar appellation!” thought the fashionable parent to herself.
Where Austen’s novels end with happy marriages, Ferrier’s Marriage begins with a spectacularly mismatched one. In the first pages of the book, the beautiful, birdbrained Lady Juliana, daughter of the Earl of Courtland, rejects her arranged marriage to a middle-aged duke and elopes instead with her dashing young Scottish lover. Before she knows it, Juliana finishes up penniless and dependent, living with her husband’s family in the Highlands, where her aristocratic tastes are constantly outraged by the crudeness of the life and diet (herrings! quelle horreur!), and the eccentricities of the swarm of aunts and sisters and neighbors to whom she is subjected. She is saved only when her husband manages to patch things up with his guardian, who had disowned him on his marriage.
Although the lapdog-loving ego monster Lady Juliana is a good comic character, I found the Scottish segment of the novel a little tiresome. The comic aunts, in particular, overstayed their welcome. Things improve in the second half of the novel, set seventeen years after the first, when Lady Juliana’s neglected daughter Mary, brought up in Scotland by Juliana’s morally exemplary sister-in-law Alicia, goes to live with her mother and her spoilt twin sister Adelaide in Juliana’s brother’s country mansion near Bath. It is this segment of the novel that is closest to Austen territory, as Mary and Adelaide negotiate their own courtship narratives. I was reminded, in particular, of Mansfield Park (1814), with Mary taking the Fanny Price role.
As Austen found herself with Fanny Price, the downtrodden, God-fearing, good girl is not a particularly easy sell as a heroine, although Ferrier succeeds reasonably well with Mary, who is given a little more humour and mischief than Fanny. The scene-stealing character in this segment, for me—and I suspect for most modern readers—was Mary’s sardonic, outspoken cousin, Lady Emily Courtland. Emily plays the same leavening role in Marriage that Mary Crawford does in Mansfield Park, yet she is not a negative character like Crawford. She is supportive to Mary, however much she teases her about her piety and moral seriousness, and the two girls’ friendship acts as the emotional pivot of the novel, more than any of the romantic relationships portrayed.
The Mary-Emily pairing is expressive of the dual character of the novel, earnestly moralizing on the one hand, lively and satirical on the other. Alongside her main characters, Ferrier is constantly introducing micro-sketches of amusing social types, mainly female. Some of these caricatures work better than others, but, at their best, they can be genuinely funny. I especially liked the salon of pretentious, Byron-worshipping bluestockings hosted in Bath by the formidable Mrs Bluemits ("nothing but conversation was spoken in her house.") There are some very funny passages in the main story, also, such as Mary’s eagerly-awaited, sentimentally-anticipated reunion with the mother who abandoned her at birth.
Mary, at length, slowly unclosing her eyes, stretched out her hands, and faintly articulated, “My mother!”
“Mother! What a hideous vulgar appellation!” thought the fashionable parent to herself.
April 17, 2018
Loved this so much.
November 13, 2022
Love is a passion that has been much talked of, often described, and little understood
It could have been a masterpiece of genre...
Imagine you enter a room. You look on the left and you see beautiful couch but with mismatched cushions (although those cushions are lovely too). Next to it, you see pretty chair but you know it is definitely in the wrong place. The walls are painted in charming colours but the pictures on them are ill-fitting. The lamps are splendid but their light should brighten other parts of the room. And so on. So, we have the room with beautiful things but in the wrong places.
For me the same was with this book.
First of all, there are two novels. First volume is mostly a story about Juliana and Henry, the second a story mostly about Mary. Thanks to the first volume one can better understand the second but you shouldn't think that the first volume is just an introduction. The story about Juliana and Henry could be a separate novel.
Through the whole first part I was hoping that it would end up differently than it ended up eventually. Juliana irritated me almost all the time. But her character was a brilliant example of those times. You can see that Susan Ferrier wrote about people she knew. And Henry... My heart wept for him.
The second part was about the next generation. Here we had three different girls (Adelaide with her disdainful glances, Emily with her biting sarcasms and Mary with her gentleness and civility) and their first loves.
Through the whole book I encountered many brilliant characters. I am not afraid to compare this aspect of the novel (excellent chosen and described characters) to Jane Austen. I am sure that Susan Ferrier could have had the same status today like Austen. Why, in my opinion, she have not this status I explain below. Back to characters, Dr. Redgill, Miss Grizzy, Miss Nicky, Miss Jacky, Lady Maclaughlan, Mrs. Downe Wright and many, many others. Really, this book was a galaxy of personalities. I don't remember any other book with so many.
When I think of what I love in this book it is hard to believe that as a whole I can't rate it higher. Here is why:
1. The second volume sounded often like a sermon. I don't mind moral message, furthermore I like books which have something to tell. But it looked like Ferrier wanted to tell to much in one novel. I felt she should put some dialogues rather to a philosophical treatise. You can see that she had an observant eye and a Christian soul.
2. Next, the second volume would have been more engaging if Emily instead of Mary was a main character. (Emily reminded me of Lizzy from Pride and Prejudice.)
3. Many events were just mentioned. I would rather read about it with more details not just short information. It was so especially with scenes between sweethearts.
4. Last but not least, Ferrier lacked something that from a wonderful story, great characters, brilliant observations and witty pen makes a masterpiece. I don't know what, I can't name it.
The main hypothesis of the book was that there are many ill-assorted couples in this world—joined, not matched. It sounds sad. And for me it was a sad book although there were many witty sentences and dialogues, and there was (at least) one happy ending.
Nonetheless, it is a book every fan of genre should read. I warn you that you will probably lose some illusion about those times, about love and marriages but still, it is worth your while.
September 5, 2018
The Scottish Jane Austen...?
When Lady Juliana is ordered by her father to marry a Duke she doesn’t love for money and social advantage, the girl refuses. Spoilt and with her head full of romantic ideas, instead she elopes with her young lover, Henry Douglas – a handsome but penurious Scotsman. Henry has relied on his guardian to keep him in style, but the guardian is furious about his marriage and cuts him off. Soon, the shallow and vain Juliana realises that living on love is not nearly as much fun as living in luxury. As their funds dwindle to nothing, they are forced to beg shelter from Henry’s father, a rather insignificant and uncouth laird in the Highlands. Their marriage continues to worsen, but Juliana bears twin daughters, one healthy, one sickly. When Juliana gets a chance to return to London, she promptly takes it, taking the healthy daughter, Adelaide, with her and leaving the other, Mary, in the hands of her sister-in-law. The story carries us through Juliana’s marriage and on to the lives of her two daughters, showing how their different upbringings determine their personalities.
Apparently when this book was originally published in 1818, it was hugely popular, outselling even Jane Austen. Now, on its recent re-publication, Ferrier is being touted as “the Scottish Jane Austen”. I fear not. While Austen’s books sparkle with wit and intelligence, this one, though often humorous, has nothing like the lightness of touch nor the true insight into society of Austen’s work. It’s grossly overlong and has large stretches of pure sentimentality that would make even Dickens cringe.
Part of the problem is that, in conjunction with so many Scottish authors following the Union, Ferrier was probably writing with an English audience in mind, and I assume that’s why she felt it necessary to drag all her characters down to London for the largest section of the book. While the Scottish sections are fun and give a believable if deliberately caricatured picture of Highland life and Edinburgh society, once she reaches London there is no sense of place and the society she describes feels considerably less authentic, more as if it’s based on books Ferrier has read than on a lifestyle she has lived and observed.
The other major flaw is one common to many writers of that era – the drooping perfection of her main female character, the good sister Mary. Often, these drearily angelic women are surrounded by quirky or dastardly characters who liven the story up, and there are some of these in this book, too. But for my taste we spend far too much time with the saintly Mary and hear far too much about her religious scruples – about her religion in general, in fact. Regular readers of my reviews will know by now that Scotland has an unhealthy relationship with religion due to the misogynistic old killjoy Knox and his buddy Calvin. And, goodness! Mary has been well trained by her pious foster-mother to see anything the least bit fun as the temptation of the Devil.
Adelaide, on the other hand, never comes to life as a character at all. There primarily to provide a contrast to Mary, her purpose is to show what happens to girls brought up by shallow mothers to consider wealth and status all-important. I felt she could either have been made hissably unlikeable (like Lady Catherine de Bourgh) or perhaps have caused the reader to pity her (like Mrs Collins) or even allowed us to laugh at her (like Mrs Bennet). But in fact I never felt I had got to know her at all, and therefore felt nothing for her.
Fortunately, the book has some redeeming qualities that make it reasonably enjoyable despite its weaknesses. Juliana’s reaction to the rough, unsophisticated life of Henry’s Highland family gives room for a lot of humour in the first section, as does Ferrier’s description of the Highland landscape as a bare, harsh, barren place of rain and mud. More realistic than the prettified, shortbread box version of the Highlands that was beginning to be created by those of a Romantic inclination at that time. As Mary travels south years later to visit her mother and sister, she stops off in Edinburgh, and Ferrier creates some excellently caricatured characters there, almost in the vein of Dickens.
The best bit for me, though, is the character of Mary’s English cousin, Lady Emily. Sarcastic and independent, Emily relentlessly mocks the aristocratic society of which she’s a part and supports droopy Mary through all her trials. One can tell Emily’s opinion of Mary’s constant moralising and rejection of fun is rather similar to my own – i.e., one suspects she often wants to slap Mary with a wet fish. But for some reason, despite this, Emily grows to love Mary and indeed, (to my horror), even occasionally wonders if she should emulate her. If there is any resemblance to Austen, it’s in the character of Emily, and it was she, not Mary, who kept me turning pages.
Overall, I enjoyed parts of the book a lot but felt that I had to trudge through too much moralistic sentimentality along the way. I’m not a great enthusiast for the women-writing-about-women-for-women type of book in general, and think this would probably work better for people who do enjoy that. It’s certainly good enough that it doesn’t deserve to have been “forgotten”, but to compare it to Austen does it a disservice by setting up expectations it doesn’t meet. As entertainment, this one has much to recommend it in parts, but neither the quality of the writing nor the depth of insight it provides take it into the true literary fiction category. 3½ stars for me, so rounded up.
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When Lady Juliana is ordered by her father to marry a Duke she doesn’t love for money and social advantage, the girl refuses. Spoilt and with her head full of romantic ideas, instead she elopes with her young lover, Henry Douglas – a handsome but penurious Scotsman. Henry has relied on his guardian to keep him in style, but the guardian is furious about his marriage and cuts him off. Soon, the shallow and vain Juliana realises that living on love is not nearly as much fun as living in luxury. As their funds dwindle to nothing, they are forced to beg shelter from Henry’s father, a rather insignificant and uncouth laird in the Highlands. Their marriage continues to worsen, but Juliana bears twin daughters, one healthy, one sickly. When Juliana gets a chance to return to London, she promptly takes it, taking the healthy daughter, Adelaide, with her and leaving the other, Mary, in the hands of her sister-in-law. The story carries us through Juliana’s marriage and on to the lives of her two daughters, showing how their different upbringings determine their personalities.
Apparently when this book was originally published in 1818, it was hugely popular, outselling even Jane Austen. Now, on its recent re-publication, Ferrier is being touted as “the Scottish Jane Austen”. I fear not. While Austen’s books sparkle with wit and intelligence, this one, though often humorous, has nothing like the lightness of touch nor the true insight into society of Austen’s work. It’s grossly overlong and has large stretches of pure sentimentality that would make even Dickens cringe.
Part of the problem is that, in conjunction with so many Scottish authors following the Union, Ferrier was probably writing with an English audience in mind, and I assume that’s why she felt it necessary to drag all her characters down to London for the largest section of the book. While the Scottish sections are fun and give a believable if deliberately caricatured picture of Highland life and Edinburgh society, once she reaches London there is no sense of place and the society she describes feels considerably less authentic, more as if it’s based on books Ferrier has read than on a lifestyle she has lived and observed.
The other major flaw is one common to many writers of that era – the drooping perfection of her main female character, the good sister Mary. Often, these drearily angelic women are surrounded by quirky or dastardly characters who liven the story up, and there are some of these in this book, too. But for my taste we spend far too much time with the saintly Mary and hear far too much about her religious scruples – about her religion in general, in fact. Regular readers of my reviews will know by now that Scotland has an unhealthy relationship with religion due to the misogynistic old killjoy Knox and his buddy Calvin. And, goodness! Mary has been well trained by her pious foster-mother to see anything the least bit fun as the temptation of the Devil.
Adelaide, on the other hand, never comes to life as a character at all. There primarily to provide a contrast to Mary, her purpose is to show what happens to girls brought up by shallow mothers to consider wealth and status all-important. I felt she could either have been made hissably unlikeable (like Lady Catherine de Bourgh) or perhaps have caused the reader to pity her (like Mrs Collins) or even allowed us to laugh at her (like Mrs Bennet). But in fact I never felt I had got to know her at all, and therefore felt nothing for her.
Fortunately, the book has some redeeming qualities that make it reasonably enjoyable despite its weaknesses. Juliana’s reaction to the rough, unsophisticated life of Henry’s Highland family gives room for a lot of humour in the first section, as does Ferrier’s description of the Highland landscape as a bare, harsh, barren place of rain and mud. More realistic than the prettified, shortbread box version of the Highlands that was beginning to be created by those of a Romantic inclination at that time. As Mary travels south years later to visit her mother and sister, she stops off in Edinburgh, and Ferrier creates some excellently caricatured characters there, almost in the vein of Dickens.
The best bit for me, though, is the character of Mary’s English cousin, Lady Emily. Sarcastic and independent, Emily relentlessly mocks the aristocratic society of which she’s a part and supports droopy Mary through all her trials. One can tell Emily’s opinion of Mary’s constant moralising and rejection of fun is rather similar to my own – i.e., one suspects she often wants to slap Mary with a wet fish. But for some reason, despite this, Emily grows to love Mary and indeed, (to my horror), even occasionally wonders if she should emulate her. If there is any resemblance to Austen, it’s in the character of Emily, and it was she, not Mary, who kept me turning pages.
Overall, I enjoyed parts of the book a lot but felt that I had to trudge through too much moralistic sentimentality along the way. I’m not a great enthusiast for the women-writing-about-women-for-women type of book in general, and think this would probably work better for people who do enjoy that. It’s certainly good enough that it doesn’t deserve to have been “forgotten”, but to compare it to Austen does it a disservice by setting up expectations it doesn’t meet. As entertainment, this one has much to recommend it in parts, but neither the quality of the writing nor the depth of insight it provides take it into the true literary fiction category. 3½ stars for me, so rounded up.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
April 23, 2014
As far as a romance goes, this one is spot on. The persuasion of the cast of characters shows plainly as if they were wearing the traditional black and white of melodramas. Of course virtue is assigned to those labeled as "good" and vice to those labeled as "bad." The naive and good young woman is thrust into society of a sudden, finds her dream man, miscommunication nearly destroys her future happiness, and a final swift fix and everyone lives happily ever after, especially the good young woman in the goodest way known to all goodlidom. As formula as it was- and let's be honest: romances especially of this era follow strict formula- it still was incredibly enjoyable.
The story starts with the shocking and bad marriage of a woman so ungrateful I felt nearly compelled to invent a fiction-time machine just so I could travel back and out of reality just to slap her. And her little dog, too. Oh, the dogs! She actually leaves one of her twins for dead (well, ok, technically she just left the poor newborn to a bunch of idiotic spinsters whose idea of nurturing the poor thing would guarantee an immediate CPS removal, assuming it would make it past the first month) and refuses to feed the other twin because she was too busy feeding muffins to her lapdog. And that wasn't the worst part. Yes, she is that horrible. The author uses the mother's love for her dogs beautifully to illustrate the mother's selfishness and rudeness. The dogs feature a lot throughout the story. Like I said: fiction-time machine. Slap. Often.
Amazingly and luckily both twins manage to survive into adulthood, though they live very seperate and very different lives in two different countries. Then comes the being thrown together (gasp!) just as they both enter society. One twin is used to show us vice, the other virtue. One is miserable and ends up living life as a divorcee in Germany shunned by all good society, and the other lives happily ever after in a good marriage with her true love in a castle in breathtaking Scotland. Couldn't get more day/night if you tried.
It is rather interesting how the author illustrates marrying for love alone or money alone will make a woman miserable. She instead awards happiness to that marriage which combines the two. Further, she values the educated woman and the woman who considers herself an equal in her marriage. She also grants Miss Goody Virtue a few faults because no one is perfect. And those faults make Miss Goody Virtue well rounded and likeable rather than merely admirable. The woman's rights and woman's equality angle is refreshing and subtle. There is no agenda other than a desire for the happily ever after to be to a real woman and not a fainting violet who gives up her identity and soul to her husband.
I can hands down recommend this novel to anyone who likes general (historical) romances, or to those who like historical fiction that pushes along women's contemporary issues (well, contemporary of its day) in a tasteful way. If you are looking for a simple boy meets girl romance with details of lavish balls and gowns and garden parties, then give it a miss. It would also help if you spoke several modern languages and have an extensive literary knowledge in Shakespeare, the classic philosophers, and obscure 18th century poets. Or, if you are like me and lack these key criteria, just skip the introductary quotes at the beginning of each chapter, every time anyone sings, and read "blah blah blah" in your head when the characters start spouting off in French. Again. And again.
The story starts with the shocking and bad marriage of a woman so ungrateful I felt nearly compelled to invent a fiction-time machine just so I could travel back and out of reality just to slap her. And her little dog, too. Oh, the dogs! She actually leaves one of her twins for dead (well, ok, technically she just left the poor newborn to a bunch of idiotic spinsters whose idea of nurturing the poor thing would guarantee an immediate CPS removal, assuming it would make it past the first month) and refuses to feed the other twin because she was too busy feeding muffins to her lapdog. And that wasn't the worst part. Yes, she is that horrible. The author uses the mother's love for her dogs beautifully to illustrate the mother's selfishness and rudeness. The dogs feature a lot throughout the story. Like I said: fiction-time machine. Slap. Often.
Amazingly and luckily both twins manage to survive into adulthood, though they live very seperate and very different lives in two different countries. Then comes the being thrown together (gasp!) just as they both enter society. One twin is used to show us vice, the other virtue. One is miserable and ends up living life as a divorcee in Germany shunned by all good society, and the other lives happily ever after in a good marriage with her true love in a castle in breathtaking Scotland. Couldn't get more day/night if you tried.
It is rather interesting how the author illustrates marrying for love alone or money alone will make a woman miserable. She instead awards happiness to that marriage which combines the two. Further, she values the educated woman and the woman who considers herself an equal in her marriage. She also grants Miss Goody Virtue a few faults because no one is perfect. And those faults make Miss Goody Virtue well rounded and likeable rather than merely admirable. The woman's rights and woman's equality angle is refreshing and subtle. There is no agenda other than a desire for the happily ever after to be to a real woman and not a fainting violet who gives up her identity and soul to her husband.
I can hands down recommend this novel to anyone who likes general (historical) romances, or to those who like historical fiction that pushes along women's contemporary issues (well, contemporary of its day) in a tasteful way. If you are looking for a simple boy meets girl romance with details of lavish balls and gowns and garden parties, then give it a miss. It would also help if you spoke several modern languages and have an extensive literary knowledge in Shakespeare, the classic philosophers, and obscure 18th century poets. Or, if you are like me and lack these key criteria, just skip the introductary quotes at the beginning of each chapter, every time anyone sings, and read "blah blah blah" in your head when the characters start spouting off in French. Again. And again.
January 29, 2021
This is the second time I've read Marriage by Susan Ferrier. I was worried that it wouldn't live up to my memory of it, but it definitely did. As I read I wondered why this novel hasn't remained popular with readers whereas Austen's novels have. I think it comes down to two points; the first is the moralistic/Christian tone of the novel which I imagine doesn't go down well with most twenty-first century readers; secondly, the novel has a fairly consistent pace and feels like sitting on a boat watching the world go past instead of rushing in and out of adventures. This may annoy people familiar with more modern pacing.
The story follows Juliana, a spoiled, pettish young woman who marries for love and immediately resents her choice. Having twin daughters, she takes one down to London with her to live the high life, and leaves the second with her brother and sister in law in the Scottish Highlands to enjoy a religious upbringing. When the twins are seventeen Highland Mary goes down to London to stay with her mother, sister and a disparate group of family members, friends, acquaintances and hanger-ons. Of course, Mary's usually moral choices are contrasted with her sister's and mother's dissipation. However, the novel is more than just a didactic text. Ferrier's satire is biting and at times laugh-out-loud funny. Although there's little suspense in terms of who will marry whom and who will be happy, the ride is amusing and shows the fabric of a society as complex and as varied as our own.
The story follows Juliana, a spoiled, pettish young woman who marries for love and immediately resents her choice. Having twin daughters, she takes one down to London with her to live the high life, and leaves the second with her brother and sister in law in the Scottish Highlands to enjoy a religious upbringing. When the twins are seventeen Highland Mary goes down to London to stay with her mother, sister and a disparate group of family members, friends, acquaintances and hanger-ons. Of course, Mary's usually moral choices are contrasted with her sister's and mother's dissipation. However, the novel is more than just a didactic text. Ferrier's satire is biting and at times laugh-out-loud funny. Although there's little suspense in terms of who will marry whom and who will be happy, the ride is amusing and shows the fabric of a society as complex and as varied as our own.
March 11, 2012
Marriage is a book in two volumes, and the second really is better than the first, which acts as a kind of very long warm up to story of the second (and a very obvious moral juxtaposition). It's easy to see where the Austen comparisons come from, but this does Ferrier a disservice as no, it isn't as good, but by constantly comparing the two as you read it brings Marriage down. However, some comparisons just have to be made:
I think the biggest flaw is that Ferrier reports a lot of what takes place, rather than narrating scenes as Austen does, and this means that the reader gets a lot less close to the characters than in Austen. This means there's a lot less emotional investment in the main characters than in Austen's novels.
There are also far too many "humorous" characters, who again are often reported to us in long blocks that read more like Dickens' Sketches of Young Couples and the like than parts of the story - they also add nothing to the thrust of the novel, and if most of them were left out (no bad thing) this would be a much shorter book! Again, in Austen the reader is left to, on the whole, discover the follies of the characters herself, rather than literally having them spelled out to you, both in the descriptions of characters and even in their names - Mrs Downe Wright, for example *cue groans*.
However, this is still a good book because it is firstly an engaging, funny story with a likeable (if little too goody goody) heroine. It's also interesting to read as a piece of history, a reminder that in the early 1800s Jane Austen was not the only lady-novelist that people read!
I think the biggest flaw is that Ferrier reports a lot of what takes place, rather than narrating scenes as Austen does, and this means that the reader gets a lot less close to the characters than in Austen. This means there's a lot less emotional investment in the main characters than in Austen's novels.
There are also far too many "humorous" characters, who again are often reported to us in long blocks that read more like Dickens' Sketches of Young Couples and the like than parts of the story - they also add nothing to the thrust of the novel, and if most of them were left out (no bad thing) this would be a much shorter book! Again, in Austen the reader is left to, on the whole, discover the follies of the characters herself, rather than literally having them spelled out to you, both in the descriptions of characters and even in their names - Mrs Downe Wright, for example *cue groans*.
However, this is still a good book because it is firstly an engaging, funny story with a likeable (if little too goody goody) heroine. It's also interesting to read as a piece of history, a reminder that in the early 1800s Jane Austen was not the only lady-novelist that people read!
August 17, 2007
Not as fun as other "silver fork" novels I've read. The first half very slow. Phonetically rendered Scottish brogues grow tiresome. Moralizing tendency. Characters are either all good, all bad, or comic relief, with the exception of Lady Emily, who is vivid and appealing. Austen would have made much more of this material; Edgeworth too, probably.
January 8, 2020
Susan Ferrier was a Scottish author, somewhat contemporary to Jane Austen (although she lived longer and published her novels a bit later). She is sometimes called "Scotland's Jane Austen," so of course I was curious to check out Marriage, her most well-known work, as my first choice of book during Georgianuary.
I can see why she is compared to Austen, although it does her a disservice, because no one can truly match Austen for wit and economy of language. Still, Ferrier paints amusing enough portraits. I suspect that a 19th-century reader would have found much more to laugh at than I did. My chuckling moments were rather far between.
This is a tale of two generations. Lady Juliana marries for love and regrets it (because she expects to always be wealthy, pampered and amused). Her husband takes her from England to his native Scotland, and she HATES it. One of the funniest scenes in the book is her introduction to the bagpipe, and her husband's family's total confusion at why she would be frightened of such an innocuous thing. As soon as she can leave, she does, but not before bearing twin daughters. She mildly approves of one baby and is actively disgusted by the cries and ill-health of the other. Her sister-in-law, a kindly, rational, loving woman, begs to be allowed to raise the second daughter as her own, and thus the households are split.
Fast-forward about 18 years. Mary (the second daughter) has grown up into a well-adjusted, sensible, pretty girl with a sense of humor. When she goes to England to meet her long-estranged mother and sister, she's in for some rude shocks. They are cold and selfish. Mary's only ally is her cousin Emily, an honest though sometimes short-tempered girl who speaks her mind and comes to admire Mary, even though she doesn't always agree with her.
The novel examines the effect various behaviors and choices in marriage have on a person's happiness. Some love-marriages are unsuccessful, but some mercenary marriages are equally so. Mary watches and measures these different situations against the upbringing she had in Scotland, before finally engaging herself to a man that offers her every chance at a loving and rational happiness.
I liked Mary very much, I liked that she wasn't a stupid heroine, and that she was often said to laugh. She is very religious, but not judgmental of other people, and she isn't gullible or overly sentimental most of the time.
What kept me from liking this book more was that key moments of drama were glossed over. For instance, the moment when she and her suitor become engaged takes up... a couple of sentences. In fact, from that moment on there's not one line of dialogue between them. Not very satisfying. I recognize, of course, that the purpose of fiction has changed somewhat over time. Where we now expect to be entertained and to feel every feeling of our heroine, in the past the narrative's larger purpose was to illustrate lessons or broad commentary on life.
There were also whole chapters that introduced characters that were non-essential to the plot and never appeared again. Clearly, they fit into the theme of the novel, but a modern reader grows impatient with them.
I liked that the chapters were quite short (although the book itself was long), and Susan Ferrier is much more readable than Jane West (another female Georgian author from a couple of decades prior, whom I read last month). There was less moralizing and more story. But most of the time she doesn't approach the sharp prose of her neighbor to the south, Jane Austen.
I can see why she is compared to Austen, although it does her a disservice, because no one can truly match Austen for wit and economy of language. Still, Ferrier paints amusing enough portraits. I suspect that a 19th-century reader would have found much more to laugh at than I did. My chuckling moments were rather far between.
This is a tale of two generations. Lady Juliana marries for love and regrets it (because she expects to always be wealthy, pampered and amused). Her husband takes her from England to his native Scotland, and she HATES it. One of the funniest scenes in the book is her introduction to the bagpipe, and her husband's family's total confusion at why she would be frightened of such an innocuous thing. As soon as she can leave, she does, but not before bearing twin daughters. She mildly approves of one baby and is actively disgusted by the cries and ill-health of the other. Her sister-in-law, a kindly, rational, loving woman, begs to be allowed to raise the second daughter as her own, and thus the households are split.
Fast-forward about 18 years. Mary (the second daughter) has grown up into a well-adjusted, sensible, pretty girl with a sense of humor. When she goes to England to meet her long-estranged mother and sister, she's in for some rude shocks. They are cold and selfish. Mary's only ally is her cousin Emily, an honest though sometimes short-tempered girl who speaks her mind and comes to admire Mary, even though she doesn't always agree with her.
The novel examines the effect various behaviors and choices in marriage have on a person's happiness. Some love-marriages are unsuccessful, but some mercenary marriages are equally so. Mary watches and measures these different situations against the upbringing she had in Scotland, before finally engaging herself to a man that offers her every chance at a loving and rational happiness.
I liked Mary very much, I liked that she wasn't a stupid heroine, and that she was often said to laugh. She is very religious, but not judgmental of other people, and she isn't gullible or overly sentimental most of the time.
What kept me from liking this book more was that key moments of drama were glossed over. For instance, the moment when she and her suitor become engaged takes up... a couple of sentences. In fact, from that moment on there's not one line of dialogue between them. Not very satisfying. I recognize, of course, that the purpose of fiction has changed somewhat over time. Where we now expect to be entertained and to feel every feeling of our heroine, in the past the narrative's larger purpose was to illustrate lessons or broad commentary on life.
There were also whole chapters that introduced characters that were non-essential to the plot and never appeared again. Clearly, they fit into the theme of the novel, but a modern reader grows impatient with them.
I liked that the chapters were quite short (although the book itself was long), and Susan Ferrier is much more readable than Jane West (another female Georgian author from a couple of decades prior, whom I read last month). There was less moralizing and more story. But most of the time she doesn't approach the sharp prose of her neighbor to the south, Jane Austen.
July 15, 2020
I wasn’t sure whether to give this a 3 star or a 4 star.
There are so many things I liked about this book but yet it isn’t amazing.
I think a good thing would be to not compare this with Jane Austen.
The first part of the story was fast paced but the second part got a bit slow. The second part also had a lot of Mary: one of the daughters of Lady Juliana. Mary was extremely righteous and at times it got a bit annoying. The second part also had descriptions about so many people: the acquaintances of the main characters. They were fun descriptions: very witty and colorful but I felt they hindered the pace of the main plot.
The best bits were getting to know the details of domestic life in that time period. The variety of people gave an insight into their world, which is lacking in Austen’s books. Austen has a better structure for sure. But again, no point in comparing the two.
I can understand why Ferrier was popular at the time. This book had a lot of laugh out loud moments and even though the characters behaved badly, it was followed by a moral pep talk for explaining what went wrong and how it could have been prevented.
All in all, this was a light hearted, fun read with some hilarious characters.
There are so many things I liked about this book but yet it isn’t amazing.
I think a good thing would be to not compare this with Jane Austen.
The first part of the story was fast paced but the second part got a bit slow. The second part also had a lot of Mary: one of the daughters of Lady Juliana. Mary was extremely righteous and at times it got a bit annoying. The second part also had descriptions about so many people: the acquaintances of the main characters. They were fun descriptions: very witty and colorful but I felt they hindered the pace of the main plot.
The best bits were getting to know the details of domestic life in that time period. The variety of people gave an insight into their world, which is lacking in Austen’s books. Austen has a better structure for sure. But again, no point in comparing the two.
I can understand why Ferrier was popular at the time. This book had a lot of laugh out loud moments and even though the characters behaved badly, it was followed by a moral pep talk for explaining what went wrong and how it could have been prevented.
All in all, this was a light hearted, fun read with some hilarious characters.
February 11, 2021
Susan Ferrier has been called the Scottish Jane Austen. Fine company indeed! I'm always on the lookout for a new Georgian or Victorian novelist to read. Ferrier lived in Edinburgh, between 1782 and 1854. Marriage was her first published novel, and it came out under a pseudonym. It is said that Sir Walter Scott became a fan of her work.
In the opening scene we meet Juliana, the 17 year old daughter of Lord Lindore, the Earl of Courtland. She has a handsome 20 year old lover, but her father is pushing her into an arranged marriage with a wealthy 53 year old Duke, whom she detests. She elopes to Scotland with Henry Douglas, and they arrive at the home of his father, Glenfern Castle. She is terrified of the dark old place, and can't stand his family, which includes three aunts and five sisters. She breaks down in front of everyone, crying "Take me from this place!" It is admitted that she was a spoiled and indulged child.
And indeed that fact of her neglected upbringing flavors everything that is to come. Throughout the early part of the novel, her haughty attitude toward Henry's family is contrasted with that of her sister-in-law Mrs. Douglas, who is charitable and well-intentioned to all. When Juliana has twin daughters, she can't be bothered to pay attention to them. She pawns off the loud scrawny girl, Mary, on Mrs. Douglas, who is thrilled to become her caretaker. Henry gets another commission in the army and they return to London with daughter Adelaide. As you can imagine, the sins of the mother are visited on the daughter, as Adelaide is ignored, and grows up with a stilted and selfish outlook. Meanwhile, Mary is raised with tenderness, love and a strong sense of duty to others. So, in a large part, Marriage is a paean to the concept of nurture over nature. When Mary's grandfather dies, the family is alarmed at her unexpected and prolonged despondency, and they decide to return her to her natural mother and her sister Adelaide in London. While there are still plenty of twists and turns to discover along the way, the remainder of the novel centers largely on the strained relationship between gentle Mary and her self-centered shallow mother. How can the reader really enjoy a story when the primary character is so very disagreeable? I found myself rooting for Juliana to encounter grief, and that's no way to pleasurably take in a book.
On the plus side, Ferrier is an accomplished observer of the human condition.
"... how much more difficult it is to bear with the weaknesses than the vices of our neighbors."
"But young people now are different from what they were in my day. There is no such thing as falling in love now, you are all so cautious."
She imbues the novel with the humanity that separates great from good works. There are moments of true tenderness, but they are overshadowed by Juliana's folly and stupidity. And I certainly wasn't buying the sentiment expressed here:
"... the only man she ever could love..."
Ridiculous. Imagine the odds of ever even meeting that person in a lifetime.
I enjoyed learning about the tradition of dreaming bread. A piece of a baby's christening cake was put under the pillow by single women, and their dream would announce to them their future husband!
In addition to Ferrier's astute observations on the human condition, I loved her obvious pleasure in singing the praises of nature and in particular of her Scotland. This line could have arisen from the heart of John Muir:
"... over the august features of mountain scenery the seasons have little controul. Their charms depend not upon richness of verdure, or luxuriance of foliage, or any of the mere prettiness of nature; but whether wrapped in snow, or veiled in mist, or glowing in sunshine, their lonely grandeur remains the same; and the same feelings fill and elevate the soul in contemplating these mighty works of an Almighty hand. The eye is never weary in watching the thousand varieties of light and shade, as they flit over the mountain, and gleam upon the lake; and the ear is satisfied with the awful stillness of nature in her solitude."
Not surprisingly, Mary's thoughts in England return fondly to her homeland's dark beauty:
"This was the second spring Mary had seen set in, in England. ... the ground was covered with flowers - the luxuriant hedge-rows were white with blossoms - the air was impregnated with the odours of the gardens and orchards. Still Mary sighed as she thought of Lochmarlie: Its wild tangled woods, with here and there a bunch of primroses peeping forth from amidst moss and withered fern - its gurgling rills, blue lakes, rocks and mountains - all rose to view; and she felt, that, even amid fairer scenes, and beneath brighter suns, her heart would still turn with fond regret to the land of her birth."
In the opening scene we meet Juliana, the 17 year old daughter of Lord Lindore, the Earl of Courtland. She has a handsome 20 year old lover, but her father is pushing her into an arranged marriage with a wealthy 53 year old Duke, whom she detests. She elopes to Scotland with Henry Douglas, and they arrive at the home of his father, Glenfern Castle. She is terrified of the dark old place, and can't stand his family, which includes three aunts and five sisters. She breaks down in front of everyone, crying "Take me from this place!" It is admitted that she was a spoiled and indulged child.
And indeed that fact of her neglected upbringing flavors everything that is to come. Throughout the early part of the novel, her haughty attitude toward Henry's family is contrasted with that of her sister-in-law Mrs. Douglas, who is charitable and well-intentioned to all. When Juliana has twin daughters, she can't be bothered to pay attention to them. She pawns off the loud scrawny girl, Mary, on Mrs. Douglas, who is thrilled to become her caretaker. Henry gets another commission in the army and they return to London with daughter Adelaide. As you can imagine, the sins of the mother are visited on the daughter, as Adelaide is ignored, and grows up with a stilted and selfish outlook. Meanwhile, Mary is raised with tenderness, love and a strong sense of duty to others. So, in a large part, Marriage is a paean to the concept of nurture over nature. When Mary's grandfather dies, the family is alarmed at her unexpected and prolonged despondency, and they decide to return her to her natural mother and her sister Adelaide in London. While there are still plenty of twists and turns to discover along the way, the remainder of the novel centers largely on the strained relationship between gentle Mary and her self-centered shallow mother. How can the reader really enjoy a story when the primary character is so very disagreeable? I found myself rooting for Juliana to encounter grief, and that's no way to pleasurably take in a book.
On the plus side, Ferrier is an accomplished observer of the human condition.
"... how much more difficult it is to bear with the weaknesses than the vices of our neighbors."
"But young people now are different from what they were in my day. There is no such thing as falling in love now, you are all so cautious."
She imbues the novel with the humanity that separates great from good works. There are moments of true tenderness, but they are overshadowed by Juliana's folly and stupidity. And I certainly wasn't buying the sentiment expressed here:
"... the only man she ever could love..."
Ridiculous. Imagine the odds of ever even meeting that person in a lifetime.
I enjoyed learning about the tradition of dreaming bread. A piece of a baby's christening cake was put under the pillow by single women, and their dream would announce to them their future husband!
In addition to Ferrier's astute observations on the human condition, I loved her obvious pleasure in singing the praises of nature and in particular of her Scotland. This line could have arisen from the heart of John Muir:
"... over the august features of mountain scenery the seasons have little controul. Their charms depend not upon richness of verdure, or luxuriance of foliage, or any of the mere prettiness of nature; but whether wrapped in snow, or veiled in mist, or glowing in sunshine, their lonely grandeur remains the same; and the same feelings fill and elevate the soul in contemplating these mighty works of an Almighty hand. The eye is never weary in watching the thousand varieties of light and shade, as they flit over the mountain, and gleam upon the lake; and the ear is satisfied with the awful stillness of nature in her solitude."
Not surprisingly, Mary's thoughts in England return fondly to her homeland's dark beauty:
"This was the second spring Mary had seen set in, in England. ... the ground was covered with flowers - the luxuriant hedge-rows were white with blossoms - the air was impregnated with the odours of the gardens and orchards. Still Mary sighed as she thought of Lochmarlie: Its wild tangled woods, with here and there a bunch of primroses peeping forth from amidst moss and withered fern - its gurgling rills, blue lakes, rocks and mountains - all rose to view; and she felt, that, even amid fairer scenes, and beneath brighter suns, her heart would still turn with fond regret to the land of her birth."
November 21, 2024
This might be the first early classic that isn’t inherently gothic I’ve read and absolutely adored
October 19, 2016
Because I'd read all of Jane Austen's works, including her childhood notebooks, many times over, I decided it was time to branch out. An editor with whom I corresponded mentioned "Highlander romances" and more in the thought of research than pleasure I began to read travel diaries of the early 1800's in Scotland. I do love fiction, though, and was curious about how this famous woman, Ms. Ferrier, wrote.
I was annoyed with the title and figured it would be a trivial book -- but it ranks more with Thackeray than any novel of that period, Ms. Austen excepted. Susan Ferrier was admired by Sir Walter Scott, the famous Scots author, and now I see why.
Her characters in "Marriage" -- even the secondary characters -- contribute to the overall novel so thoroughly that I felt I'd never written a word myself (and that's far from the truth). The heroine's best friend is perhaps Ms. Ferrier, herself or women she'd met: exuberant, highly educated, musical, talented, and romantic. Her fiance, on the other hand, is slow and she's desperately in love with him -- for no other reason than that she adores him, just as he is.
I think this is the most charming book I've read in a decade. The minute details slip in painlessly during the novel's action. The characters, such as the heroine's melodramatic, self-centered and aristocratic mother vs. her shockingly rustic highlands relatives contribute to the pacing, too.
We move pretty rapidly through many worlds -- the rugged castles of eccentric highlands lairds and their extreme independence as well as the fast, voluptuous seasons of Edinburgh and London. Since most of us haven't read the Scots 'lady' writers before, this is very entertaining (as well as good for research).
I'm glad I got brave and tried. Now I'm on her final novel, just the first volume. I'd like to give the information about how to read these books -- free-- in their original 'Blackwood' imprints, online. Reading these double and triple-decker novels exactly as the world saw them in 1831-1851 is exciting. Just part of the fun. But enjoy yourselves! Read Susan Ferrier's happy endings and joyous, complicated characters and plots in any edition you fancy. They're 'wordier' than Ms. Austen's books -- by the way: Susan Ferrier was admired by Jane Austen, and vice versa; though Ms. Ferrier moved in a wealthy, cosmopolitan society. Her characters come from those 'seasons' as well as the highlands of Scotland.
My email: juliajeanbates@gmail.com.
I was annoyed with the title and figured it would be a trivial book -- but it ranks more with Thackeray than any novel of that period, Ms. Austen excepted. Susan Ferrier was admired by Sir Walter Scott, the famous Scots author, and now I see why.
Her characters in "Marriage" -- even the secondary characters -- contribute to the overall novel so thoroughly that I felt I'd never written a word myself (and that's far from the truth). The heroine's best friend is perhaps Ms. Ferrier, herself or women she'd met: exuberant, highly educated, musical, talented, and romantic. Her fiance, on the other hand, is slow and she's desperately in love with him -- for no other reason than that she adores him, just as he is.
I think this is the most charming book I've read in a decade. The minute details slip in painlessly during the novel's action. The characters, such as the heroine's melodramatic, self-centered and aristocratic mother vs. her shockingly rustic highlands relatives contribute to the pacing, too.
We move pretty rapidly through many worlds -- the rugged castles of eccentric highlands lairds and their extreme independence as well as the fast, voluptuous seasons of Edinburgh and London. Since most of us haven't read the Scots 'lady' writers before, this is very entertaining (as well as good for research).
I'm glad I got brave and tried. Now I'm on her final novel, just the first volume. I'd like to give the information about how to read these books -- free-- in their original 'Blackwood' imprints, online. Reading these double and triple-decker novels exactly as the world saw them in 1831-1851 is exciting. Just part of the fun. But enjoy yourselves! Read Susan Ferrier's happy endings and joyous, complicated characters and plots in any edition you fancy. They're 'wordier' than Ms. Austen's books -- by the way: Susan Ferrier was admired by Jane Austen, and vice versa; though Ms. Ferrier moved in a wealthy, cosmopolitan society. Her characters come from those 'seasons' as well as the highlands of Scotland.
My email: juliajeanbates@gmail.com.
August 16, 2012
The first half of this book has some of the funniest satire on consumer culture ever to exist -- seriously -- and the second shifts into a reasonably witty, though also sentimental, take on the marriage market, where the good sister, the bad/selfish sister, and the witty and goodhearted but insufficiently self-controlled cousin meet their appropriate fates. I know the author was pulling for Mary-the-good-sister, but I actually liked Emily (the cousin) best.
July 17, 2019
Technically, I didn't finish this. The author was apparently more popular than Jane Austen in her day and covered the same themes - the foibles of polite society, social climbing, etc. Why didn't she stay popular? Because her plots are heavy and her characters more like stock figures than real people. I gave up about halfway through.
August 19, 2021
3.5
The reading experience of this book can only be described as pleasant. Mild. Enjoyable. Pleasurable and easy to read, but does nothing particularly revolutionary for me. In my quest to recreate an experience similar to reading Jane Austen, Susan Ferrier was the first author I have tried whose name is often mentioned in tandem. I think this book perhaps develops to be a little more like Austen in the latter half, and occasionally we see a similar wit shining through, but I don’t think generally their writing styles align, and its a disservice to compare this story, and Ferrier’s far broader, sweeping writing style, to something it is not. That being said, I definitely preferred the second half of the story to the first, where the melodramatic style tapered off and the characters became far more likeable. And ultimately I was just so surprised by how easy and fun it was to read this book - if you are looking for non-heavy going classics, this is one I would definitely recommend.
The book is structured strangely - for a third of the book we follow a character (Lady Juliana) that the story isn’t really about. It is akin to a long detailed prologue to the story of our true heroine, Mary Douglas, Lady Juliana’s daughter. While the first portion is easy to read and immersed in the best atmospheric setting of Scottish landscape, it is made truly insufferable by the character of Lady Juliana, who is selfish, naive, frustrating, melodramatic, entitled - name a bad quality and it is likely she will fulfil it. Indeed, she is intended to be like this, but I did not like reading about her and this long ‘prologue’ to Mary’s story could definitely have been shorted. The writing at this point felt very dramatic also, many exclamation points scattered here and there, and though it felt ironic at times, it was a little grating. Luckily, as mentioned before, this becomes less so as the book progressed. Reading a little into the context of this novel I learned that originally Ferrier worked on the novel with her friend, who wanted the novel to be more in the gothic style. Perhaps this early style is the remnants of that working relationship, or maybe just an effect of Lady Juliana’s character which seeps into the writing style.
As we moved into Mary’s lifetime, I was worried that she was going to be another character of the irritating kind, only this time the bland, good, nice character, but in this I was pleasantly surprised. While she is good, she has a sense of humour and is willing to laugh at her own desire to follow the rules, and for that I really liked her. And thus I enjoyed her portion of the novel a lot more. Though the characters originally felt very ‘stock’ character-like, the second half introduces a lot more interesting, flawed characters, including my personal favourite, the icon herself, Lady Emily. Lady Emily is the character that felt the most like a real person to me (because though Mary may be sufferable in her goodness, she still feels like a character), and she has the best lines in the book, filled with scathing sarcasm. Though she can be a little self centred, I loved her relationship with Mary. And what is also interesting about Lady Emily is that she kind of defies some of the ideas that Susan Ferrier presents in this novel about education. For Ferrier, it seems that the effects of poor education are damning, yet for Lady Emily she contains some core goodness which allows her to transcend the teachings of Lady Juliana. I liked this a lot - that Ferrier pointed out how the effect of poor education can be very situational. One might marry for money and be happy, or one might be miserable. The real problem is what drives people to make these decisions - namely, a lack of education (particularly female). Throughout a lot of the book is brought up the question of what a valuable education entails, whether that is accomplishments, skills, morals, all, none. And we see the effect of one woman’s poor, neglected education have an effect through her family line, as she, never given any role model as a mother, is expected to then act as a mother to both her children and the children of her brother, who she in turn neglects, and those children suffer.
Whilst this story felt on the placid side, there was still a lot I gained from it, and I’m really glad that I got to read it. I only wish that more of Susan Ferrier’s novels were in print/easy to find, because her writing is so pleasurable to read and I am so interested to see what else she has written. This novel grew on me slowly, gradually warming up, until I left it with a feeling of fondness for its contents. It is also so fascinating to me how some books simply are forgotten and lost to time; this book is hard to find and almost unknown in popular literature, and yet Ferrier outsold Austen in her day. I think this novel is still worthy of notice and certainly deserved the recognition it received in its time, and I would definitely recommend it to any reader of classic literature.
The reading experience of this book can only be described as pleasant. Mild. Enjoyable. Pleasurable and easy to read, but does nothing particularly revolutionary for me. In my quest to recreate an experience similar to reading Jane Austen, Susan Ferrier was the first author I have tried whose name is often mentioned in tandem. I think this book perhaps develops to be a little more like Austen in the latter half, and occasionally we see a similar wit shining through, but I don’t think generally their writing styles align, and its a disservice to compare this story, and Ferrier’s far broader, sweeping writing style, to something it is not. That being said, I definitely preferred the second half of the story to the first, where the melodramatic style tapered off and the characters became far more likeable. And ultimately I was just so surprised by how easy and fun it was to read this book - if you are looking for non-heavy going classics, this is one I would definitely recommend.
The book is structured strangely - for a third of the book we follow a character (Lady Juliana) that the story isn’t really about. It is akin to a long detailed prologue to the story of our true heroine, Mary Douglas, Lady Juliana’s daughter. While the first portion is easy to read and immersed in the best atmospheric setting of Scottish landscape, it is made truly insufferable by the character of Lady Juliana, who is selfish, naive, frustrating, melodramatic, entitled - name a bad quality and it is likely she will fulfil it. Indeed, she is intended to be like this, but I did not like reading about her and this long ‘prologue’ to Mary’s story could definitely have been shorted. The writing at this point felt very dramatic also, many exclamation points scattered here and there, and though it felt ironic at times, it was a little grating. Luckily, as mentioned before, this becomes less so as the book progressed. Reading a little into the context of this novel I learned that originally Ferrier worked on the novel with her friend, who wanted the novel to be more in the gothic style. Perhaps this early style is the remnants of that working relationship, or maybe just an effect of Lady Juliana’s character which seeps into the writing style.
As we moved into Mary’s lifetime, I was worried that she was going to be another character of the irritating kind, only this time the bland, good, nice character, but in this I was pleasantly surprised. While she is good, she has a sense of humour and is willing to laugh at her own desire to follow the rules, and for that I really liked her. And thus I enjoyed her portion of the novel a lot more. Though the characters originally felt very ‘stock’ character-like, the second half introduces a lot more interesting, flawed characters, including my personal favourite, the icon herself, Lady Emily. Lady Emily is the character that felt the most like a real person to me (because though Mary may be sufferable in her goodness, she still feels like a character), and she has the best lines in the book, filled with scathing sarcasm. Though she can be a little self centred, I loved her relationship with Mary. And what is also interesting about Lady Emily is that she kind of defies some of the ideas that Susan Ferrier presents in this novel about education. For Ferrier, it seems that the effects of poor education are damning, yet for Lady Emily she contains some core goodness which allows her to transcend the teachings of Lady Juliana. I liked this a lot - that Ferrier pointed out how the effect of poor education can be very situational. One might marry for money and be happy, or one might be miserable. The real problem is what drives people to make these decisions - namely, a lack of education (particularly female). Throughout a lot of the book is brought up the question of what a valuable education entails, whether that is accomplishments, skills, morals, all, none. And we see the effect of one woman’s poor, neglected education have an effect through her family line, as she, never given any role model as a mother, is expected to then act as a mother to both her children and the children of her brother, who she in turn neglects, and those children suffer.
Whilst this story felt on the placid side, there was still a lot I gained from it, and I’m really glad that I got to read it. I only wish that more of Susan Ferrier’s novels were in print/easy to find, because her writing is so pleasurable to read and I am so interested to see what else she has written. This novel grew on me slowly, gradually warming up, until I left it with a feeling of fondness for its contents. It is also so fascinating to me how some books simply are forgotten and lost to time; this book is hard to find and almost unknown in popular literature, and yet Ferrier outsold Austen in her day. I think this novel is still worthy of notice and certainly deserved the recognition it received in its time, and I would definitely recommend it to any reader of classic literature.
August 5, 2018
Absolutely fantastic.
So here is what i think. Some stories start slow. Others just get right into it.
Well this story was of no exception in starting slow because it was by the 10th chapter that i FINALLY got into it.
Lady Juliana I absolutely detest. But you can endure her.
The books cast of characters is fantastic. The title marriage certainly and justly indicates that marriage is the prime subject of this book. Indeed it is. You get acquainted with various peoples marriage.
Mrs Douglas is by far the best character, alongside Lady Emily for different reasons, who made this book great.
Otherwise i agree with other reviews that Yes. Mary is quite like fanny and i would not have thought about it like that unless someone has suggested.
Overall. Fantastic book. Go and read it ye lovers of Austen!!!!
So here is what i think. Some stories start slow. Others just get right into it.
Well this story was of no exception in starting slow because it was by the 10th chapter that i FINALLY got into it.
Lady Juliana I absolutely detest. But you can endure her.
The books cast of characters is fantastic. The title marriage certainly and justly indicates that marriage is the prime subject of this book. Indeed it is. You get acquainted with various peoples marriage.
Mrs Douglas is by far the best character, alongside Lady Emily for different reasons, who made this book great.
Otherwise i agree with other reviews that Yes. Mary is quite like fanny and i would not have thought about it like that unless someone has suggested.
Overall. Fantastic book. Go and read it ye lovers of Austen!!!!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 29, 2022
I prefer to read physical books printed on paper, but I couldn't find this book anywhere being forced to read it digitally. I read the Project Gutenberg version. All the books you can see in my collection I physically own in my personal library except this one. I would love to have it too.
'Marriage' published in 1818 was Susan Ferrier's first novel. It tells the story of an English heiress, Lady Juliana, who elopes with an impoverished Scot, Henry Douglas, and has to adjust to living in a run-down castle in the Highlands. 'Marriage' is a witty and satirical examination of female lives in the Regency era.
'Marriage' published in 1818 was Susan Ferrier's first novel. It tells the story of an English heiress, Lady Juliana, who elopes with an impoverished Scot, Henry Douglas, and has to adjust to living in a run-down castle in the Highlands. 'Marriage' is a witty and satirical examination of female lives in the Regency era.
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July 18, 2018Susan Ferrier's Marriage came to my attention in an interview with author Zen Cho, where it was cited as one of her influences. I can see how some of the DNA of the current subgenre can be traced back to Ferrier, especially along the Georgette Heyer line. (Though I don't think the phoneticized Scottish dialect in romances can be blamed on Ferrier, because Ferrier limits her use of dialect to her minor characters, not the protagonists. But still, someone somewhere in the romance family tree needs to be held accountable for it and its bewildering continuation.)
The first part of the book focuses on the insipid Lady Juliana, who at last minutes forsakes her unappealing but rich duke fiance in order to elope with the young, handsome, and none-too-bright Henry Douglas. Lady Juliana has no good qualities, aside from her devotion to her dogs--something which I admit, during the course of the story, is more of a vice than a virtue. Calling her feather-brained would be too kind, and she whines her way through her elopement and the early years of her marriage, stuck in nowhere Scotland at her husband's family's home, the two of them unable to support themselves in any way after having burned so many bridges during the fiasco of their elopement. Henry's family takes great pains to try to welcome, support, and love Juliana, but that's a lost cause. She's determined to hate her situation, to blame it on everyone but herself, and to make her way back into London high society. She gives birth to twin girls, one whom she takes with her back to London when it appears that Henry's fortunes change, and a sicklier one whom she leaves behind in Scotland, to be raised by her childless but virtuous sister-in-law.
Ferrier's real story here is the story of Mary, the daughter left behind, and what happens when she rejoins her mother and sister when she comes of age. Mary has been raised to be a good, virtuous, practical Christian--nothing like Lady Juliana, and nothing like how Juliana raised the other twin daughter, Adelaide--and with her good heart and good mind, Mary is launched into frivolous society life rather unhappily. She makes the best of the situation, developing friendships with her lively but good-hearted cousin Lady Emily and with a blind, dying widow who attempts to matchmake Mary with her only surviving son. (Mary is innocent to this for a while--"she was a stranger to match-making in all its bearings, had scarcely ever read a novel in her life, and was consequently not at all aware of the necessity there was for her falling in love with all convenient speed"--but when she cottons on, it's actually rather heartbreaking to witness her feelings of humiliation.)
Ferrier is interested in the forces of love and duty in making healthy, happy marriages, and I found the content of the book mostly enjoyable. Ferrier displays a fantastic handle on what I think of as sitcom characterization: she's very good at distinct characters and milking all the humor out of them and out of interactions between them, but there's not exactly a lot of nuance and well-roundedness to them. It was still a lot of fun, though (lovers of ridiculous and overbearing aunts, hark! there's a trio of them in here), and Ferrier has the kind of wit and humor that draws readers to the modern subgenre still. In particular, secondary character Lady Emily has the vivacious spark that one usually finds in a protagonist in modern day historical romances, and in a story full of dullards and society machinations, it was a relief and also definite fun to watch her unleash her observations and her unbridled mischievousness. Also, she has perennially relevant dating advice: "Civility is too much for a man one means to refuse. You'll never get rid of a stupid man by civility. Whenever I had reason to apprehend a lover, I thought it my duty to turn short upon him and give him a snarl at the outset, which rid me of him at once. "
Protagonist Mary, on the other hand, is not insufferably goody-goody, but she's very, very close to it, and I struggled sometimes with the heavy-handed exposition (and rhapsodies from Lady Emily) about just how good-but-not-lording-it-over-everyone Mary was. Ferrier's plot was also haphazardly paced, but I did find her digressions and unnecessary character portraits & scenes to be at least interesting academically, if not as actual aspects of the story.
The first part of the book focuses on the insipid Lady Juliana, who at last minutes forsakes her unappealing but rich duke fiance in order to elope with the young, handsome, and none-too-bright Henry Douglas. Lady Juliana has no good qualities, aside from her devotion to her dogs--something which I admit, during the course of the story, is more of a vice than a virtue. Calling her feather-brained would be too kind, and she whines her way through her elopement and the early years of her marriage, stuck in nowhere Scotland at her husband's family's home, the two of them unable to support themselves in any way after having burned so many bridges during the fiasco of their elopement. Henry's family takes great pains to try to welcome, support, and love Juliana, but that's a lost cause. She's determined to hate her situation, to blame it on everyone but herself, and to make her way back into London high society. She gives birth to twin girls, one whom she takes with her back to London when it appears that Henry's fortunes change, and a sicklier one whom she leaves behind in Scotland, to be raised by her childless but virtuous sister-in-law.
Ferrier's real story here is the story of Mary, the daughter left behind, and what happens when she rejoins her mother and sister when she comes of age. Mary has been raised to be a good, virtuous, practical Christian--nothing like Lady Juliana, and nothing like how Juliana raised the other twin daughter, Adelaide--and with her good heart and good mind, Mary is launched into frivolous society life rather unhappily. She makes the best of the situation, developing friendships with her lively but good-hearted cousin Lady Emily and with a blind, dying widow who attempts to matchmake Mary with her only surviving son. (Mary is innocent to this for a while--"she was a stranger to match-making in all its bearings, had scarcely ever read a novel in her life, and was consequently not at all aware of the necessity there was for her falling in love with all convenient speed"--but when she cottons on, it's actually rather heartbreaking to witness her feelings of humiliation.)
Ferrier is interested in the forces of love and duty in making healthy, happy marriages, and I found the content of the book mostly enjoyable. Ferrier displays a fantastic handle on what I think of as sitcom characterization: she's very good at distinct characters and milking all the humor out of them and out of interactions between them, but there's not exactly a lot of nuance and well-roundedness to them. It was still a lot of fun, though (lovers of ridiculous and overbearing aunts, hark! there's a trio of them in here), and Ferrier has the kind of wit and humor that draws readers to the modern subgenre still. In particular, secondary character Lady Emily has the vivacious spark that one usually finds in a protagonist in modern day historical romances, and in a story full of dullards and society machinations, it was a relief and also definite fun to watch her unleash her observations and her unbridled mischievousness. Also, she has perennially relevant dating advice: "Civility is too much for a man one means to refuse. You'll never get rid of a stupid man by civility. Whenever I had reason to apprehend a lover, I thought it my duty to turn short upon him and give him a snarl at the outset, which rid me of him at once. "
Protagonist Mary, on the other hand, is not insufferably goody-goody, but she's very, very close to it, and I struggled sometimes with the heavy-handed exposition (and rhapsodies from Lady Emily) about just how good-but-not-lording-it-over-everyone Mary was. Ferrier's plot was also haphazardly paced, but I did find her digressions and unnecessary character portraits & scenes to be at least interesting academically, if not as actual aspects of the story.
March 17, 2012
I really appreciated Ferrier's biting wit.
December 29, 2018
I love Georgette Heyer and thought this would be somewhat similar. I was rather disappointed in that it is not a typical romance plot of boy meets girl, but more of a family saga. If you like that kind of thing it's well-written and you may well enjoy it. I'd recommend this book if you enjoyed A Civil Contract or Pencarrow or maybe even the Poldark series.
September 19, 2023
A splendid novel.
“For oh! The unutterable anguish that heart must endure which lavishes all its best affections on a creature mutable and perishable as itself, from whom a thousand accidents may separate or estrange it! Yet there is something so amiable, so exalting, in the fervour of a pure and generous attachment”.
“For oh! The unutterable anguish that heart must endure which lavishes all its best affections on a creature mutable and perishable as itself, from whom a thousand accidents may separate or estrange it! Yet there is something so amiable, so exalting, in the fervour of a pure and generous attachment”.
June 12, 2014
Called the "Scottish Jane Austen" (a name that likely riles fans of both), Susan Ferrier's work may well attract those who appreciate the themes in Austen's work - the lives of women, the politics of marriage and the family, wealth and love, and many follies of human nature. All of these certainly abound in Marriage.
While I'm not keen in comparisons, I have to suggest, even as a devotee of Austen, that Ferrier's style might actually surpass the more famous novelist in some aspects. While Austen's writing can be, in places, flawed*, Ferrier's writing is clean, tidy and rather snappy for 1817. Where Austen can occasionally read as dry or clunky, the prose in Marriage nearly sparkles with care and rolls very nicely, embellished by surprising humour. Marriage is, at times, prone to mawkishness and puritanical zeal, as well as excessive recording of unnecessary conversation and detail, but the prose itself is quite fine. Nevertheless, while Ferrier may be a superior technician (in my opinion), Austen still clearly prevails in perception, characterization, and imagination, which makes her work transcend time and place as effectively as it does. (A good reminder that mechanics is not the sum total of this game!)
Marriage is a thoroughly competent novel that remains compelling almost 200 years later, which is a great feat. From 1817 to 2014, we all know the people who inhabit this book, though the charming style of writing often make their quirks much more enjoyable on the page than in real life (for the most part; those spinster aunts were pretty worn thin by the end, for me). Even as society changes, there remains much to think about in Marriage, whether you agree with its assertions or not.
This book has been on my shelves for almost 15 years, through three moves, waiting for me to get to it. It was, in the end, well worth reading. Recommended for fans of the era and genre, as well as those seeking solid domestic sketches and morality portraits of the time.
*Example: I dearly love Sense and Sensibility, but the commas are drunk therein.
While I'm not keen in comparisons, I have to suggest, even as a devotee of Austen, that Ferrier's style might actually surpass the more famous novelist in some aspects. While Austen's writing can be, in places, flawed*, Ferrier's writing is clean, tidy and rather snappy for 1817. Where Austen can occasionally read as dry or clunky, the prose in Marriage nearly sparkles with care and rolls very nicely, embellished by surprising humour. Marriage is, at times, prone to mawkishness and puritanical zeal, as well as excessive recording of unnecessary conversation and detail, but the prose itself is quite fine. Nevertheless, while Ferrier may be a superior technician (in my opinion), Austen still clearly prevails in perception, characterization, and imagination, which makes her work transcend time and place as effectively as it does. (A good reminder that mechanics is not the sum total of this game!)
Marriage is a thoroughly competent novel that remains compelling almost 200 years later, which is a great feat. From 1817 to 2014, we all know the people who inhabit this book, though the charming style of writing often make their quirks much more enjoyable on the page than in real life (for the most part; those spinster aunts were pretty worn thin by the end, for me). Even as society changes, there remains much to think about in Marriage, whether you agree with its assertions or not.
This book has been on my shelves for almost 15 years, through three moves, waiting for me to get to it. It was, in the end, well worth reading. Recommended for fans of the era and genre, as well as those seeking solid domestic sketches and morality portraits of the time.
*Example: I dearly love Sense and Sensibility, but the commas are drunk therein.
June 22, 2018
It's actually a 3.5, and I will be so sad when my job picks back up and books this size go back to taking me a couple of weeks.
Delighted I completely ignored the Austen comparison from the get-go. When a publisher wants to market a novel, I found that even the most tenuous links will do.
Beforehand, if I’d been tasked to imagine a novel from the early nineteenth century, written by a young unmarried woman from an affluent family with strong ties to the Church of Scotland – not to mention one that was friendly with Walter Scott, I don’t think I would been too far off the finished product.
The plot itself is a standard Victorian affair, but I’ve far read worse classic novels that have stayed in the public’s conscious with a string of adaptations to their name. What really stands out in Marriage is the delightfully eccentric characters that could have easily fitted into the Gaskell’s Cranford which was published decades later. Ferrier’s sense of humour also shines through the pages and it raised a smile a few times.
I kind of feel it could have been published as two books with the second volume serving as a sequel to the first, as the focus switches from the main couple to their daughter Mary. There’s also less in the way of humour and a bit more substance in the second volume.
The only kind of bugbear I had with the novel is that is it needed an editor, or at the very least, a more stringent advisor. There was also a few times, particularly in the second volume, I got a sense that she wanted to go off on a tangent with one the themes of the novel and maybe outside of the remit of the story itself.
Overall though, I did enjoy this book. Made me want to look out more of her novels to see her progression as an author.
Would happily recommend it to anyone looking for something a little different in the way of nineteenth century literature.
Delighted I completely ignored the Austen comparison from the get-go. When a publisher wants to market a novel, I found that even the most tenuous links will do.
Beforehand, if I’d been tasked to imagine a novel from the early nineteenth century, written by a young unmarried woman from an affluent family with strong ties to the Church of Scotland – not to mention one that was friendly with Walter Scott, I don’t think I would been too far off the finished product.
The plot itself is a standard Victorian affair, but I’ve far read worse classic novels that have stayed in the public’s conscious with a string of adaptations to their name. What really stands out in Marriage is the delightfully eccentric characters that could have easily fitted into the Gaskell’s Cranford which was published decades later. Ferrier’s sense of humour also shines through the pages and it raised a smile a few times.
I kind of feel it could have been published as two books with the second volume serving as a sequel to the first, as the focus switches from the main couple to their daughter Mary. There’s also less in the way of humour and a bit more substance in the second volume.
The only kind of bugbear I had with the novel is that is it needed an editor, or at the very least, a more stringent advisor. There was also a few times, particularly in the second volume, I got a sense that she wanted to go off on a tangent with one the themes of the novel and maybe outside of the remit of the story itself.
Overall though, I did enjoy this book. Made me want to look out more of her novels to see her progression as an author.
Would happily recommend it to anyone looking for something a little different in the way of nineteenth century literature.
July 14, 2016
It probably bodes ill that I could not remember what this book was about at all and had to track down a synopsis before I could write a review. It's only been 7 weeks since I finished it, I should have been able to remember something.
I like the setting in Scotland, it was a nice change from the typical London and Bath locations these stories usually take place in.
I did find that there was too definitive a line between the good, the bad and the silly characters. No one was ever a mix of two or three of these characteristics.
And as per usual, the goody two shoes heroine is just uninteresting and often ridiculous in her scruples. It's hard to like her at all, or all the people creating the impediments to her happiness. It is all so trifling, at least to my modern mind.
I like the setting in Scotland, it was a nice change from the typical London and Bath locations these stories usually take place in.
I did find that there was too definitive a line between the good, the bad and the silly characters. No one was ever a mix of two or three of these characteristics.
And as per usual, the goody two shoes heroine is just uninteresting and often ridiculous in her scruples. It's hard to like her at all, or all the people creating the impediments to her happiness. It is all so trifling, at least to my modern mind.
November 5, 2012
Susan Ferrier was Scotland's Jane Austen. First published in 1818, Marriage was her first novel and became very popular among contemporaries. It is a comedy a manners with some lovely vignettes of characters that Susan Ferrier observed around her genteel social circle centred on Edinburgh. To my own surprise, despite our distance from the manners of 200 years ago, I read it through without ever being tempted to put it aside for a rest. The opinions of Mary Douglas and her friend Lady Emily on men and marriage are surprisingly familiar - so the early 19thc version of Chick Lit& amusing, despite the gulf of time.
May 14, 2018
A slow yet pleasing read for when one wants to find herself in the 18th century. It’s not as witty and beautiful as Jane Austin’s prose, and gets a tad too predictable and tiresome in the last quarter.
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September 2, 2024If Waverley took me the longest to get through in my Georgian reading goal, Marriage, by far, has taken me the shortest amount of time. I think this can partially be blamed on the writing style; you can really start to see a shift between the older Regency novels of years prior and this one. There is more dialogue, more showing instead of simply telling, and more action on-page rather than just summary or narration. On the flip side, this means that the annoying aspects of characters can really pull through; I probably drove both my mother and my best friends crazy by updating them on the absolute wreck of a dislikable character that is Lady Juliana Douglas. Unfortunately, her rash marriage and infuriating self-absorbed reaction to the realities of it take over the first third of the book, though a part of you can’t help but watch her awfulness like a bad car wreck. Novels of this time period certainly have their fair share of despicable characters, but this was the first time my book-rage was actually triggered in one, and I would have paid money to enter that book just for the sole purpose of slapping the woman.
A fresh burst of cries from the unfortunate baby again called forth its mother’s indignation.
“I wish to goodness that child was gagged,” cried [Lady Juliana], holding hands to her ears. “It has done nothing but scream since the hour it was born, and it makes me quite sick to hear it.”
“Poor little dear,” said Mrs. Douglas compassionatly. “It appears to suffer a great deal.”
“Suffer!” repeated her sister-in-law. “What can it suffer? I am sure it meets with a great deal more attention than any person in this house. These three old women do nothing but feed it morning to night, with everything they can think of, and make such a fuss about it!”
Mary, her daughter, is raised in Scotland, while Lady Juliana takes her twin sister, Adelaide, along with her when she moves back to England. I will say that the synopsis given here is a little inaccurate: the English portion of the story takes place in the countryside, not London, and Adelaide is more cold and ambitious than rash. Mary is a far more likable character than either her mother or sister, if at times a bit dull. She is not entirely without personality, and as I said, she’s not so much of an ideal of perfection that she isn’t likable, but it does feel like the author spends far more time on giving us character sketches of eccentric acquaintances than on digging into Mary herself. As a romance in the modern sense, this book fails: Mary’s love interest is barely in it, and we never get enough interactions between the two to really feel anything about their relationship, even if he seems like a nice enough fellow.
My favorite character would probably have to be Mary’s cousin, Lady Emily: raised by Lady Juliana, she’s also selfish and spoiled and not exactly morally centered, but she has intelligence and a heart, and I find that it’s rather rare to find such a flawed character as actual friends with the heroine without her eventually being revealed as two-faced or inconstant (such as, say…Isabella Thorpe in Northanger Abbey).
Lady Emily remained with her cousin; but she was a poor comforter: her indignation against the oppressor was always much stronger than her sympathy with the oppressed; and she would have been more in her element scolding the mother than soothing the daughter.
As a satire/critique on contemporary society, there’s certainly a lot here. Ferrier is merciless in showing how ridiculous the English prejudice against the Scottish can be, while also being perfectly willing to make some of those Scottish characters just as ridiculous as her English ones. The novel’s statements on marriage are ones I find pretty well-matched with my own, even two hundred years later. The book’s main message is that the wisest marriages are born of a match made with both affection and sense, but it also compares the woman whose entire life revolves around her husband so that she cannot make a decision without him, with the woman whose independence causes her to behave as if he does not even exist, and how both are just as ridiculous in their own way. The book does devolve into moralizing here and there, but it was woven into the narrative a bit better than I’ve seen it done elsewhere.
“It’s impossible the bagpipe could frighten anybody,” said Miss Jacky in a high key; “nobody with common sense could be frightened by a bagpipe.” [about Lady Juliana’s screeching upon hearing one for the first time]
Despite this book’s host of unlikable characters and its uneven pacing, when all is said and done, I have to admit I enjoyed the book as a whole, even if some of that enjoyment came from screaming and complaining about it to my friends and family.
A fresh burst of cries from the unfortunate baby again called forth its mother’s indignation.
“I wish to goodness that child was gagged,” cried [Lady Juliana], holding hands to her ears. “It has done nothing but scream since the hour it was born, and it makes me quite sick to hear it.”
“Poor little dear,” said Mrs. Douglas compassionatly. “It appears to suffer a great deal.”
“Suffer!” repeated her sister-in-law. “What can it suffer? I am sure it meets with a great deal more attention than any person in this house. These three old women do nothing but feed it morning to night, with everything they can think of, and make such a fuss about it!”
Mary, her daughter, is raised in Scotland, while Lady Juliana takes her twin sister, Adelaide, along with her when she moves back to England. I will say that the synopsis given here is a little inaccurate: the English portion of the story takes place in the countryside, not London, and Adelaide is more cold and ambitious than rash. Mary is a far more likable character than either her mother or sister, if at times a bit dull. She is not entirely without personality, and as I said, she’s not so much of an ideal of perfection that she isn’t likable, but it does feel like the author spends far more time on giving us character sketches of eccentric acquaintances than on digging into Mary herself. As a romance in the modern sense, this book fails: Mary’s love interest is barely in it, and we never get enough interactions between the two to really feel anything about their relationship, even if he seems like a nice enough fellow.
My favorite character would probably have to be Mary’s cousin, Lady Emily: raised by Lady Juliana, she’s also selfish and spoiled and not exactly morally centered, but she has intelligence and a heart, and I find that it’s rather rare to find such a flawed character as actual friends with the heroine without her eventually being revealed as two-faced or inconstant (such as, say…Isabella Thorpe in Northanger Abbey).
Lady Emily remained with her cousin; but she was a poor comforter: her indignation against the oppressor was always much stronger than her sympathy with the oppressed; and she would have been more in her element scolding the mother than soothing the daughter.
As a satire/critique on contemporary society, there’s certainly a lot here. Ferrier is merciless in showing how ridiculous the English prejudice against the Scottish can be, while also being perfectly willing to make some of those Scottish characters just as ridiculous as her English ones. The novel’s statements on marriage are ones I find pretty well-matched with my own, even two hundred years later. The book’s main message is that the wisest marriages are born of a match made with both affection and sense, but it also compares the woman whose entire life revolves around her husband so that she cannot make a decision without him, with the woman whose independence causes her to behave as if he does not even exist, and how both are just as ridiculous in their own way. The book does devolve into moralizing here and there, but it was woven into the narrative a bit better than I’ve seen it done elsewhere.
“It’s impossible the bagpipe could frighten anybody,” said Miss Jacky in a high key; “nobody with common sense could be frightened by a bagpipe.” [about Lady Juliana’s screeching upon hearing one for the first time]
Despite this book’s host of unlikable characters and its uneven pacing, when all is said and done, I have to admit I enjoyed the book as a whole, even if some of that enjoyment came from screaming and complaining about it to my friends and family.
May 22, 2017
Ferrier – at least according the back of the paperback I read – is considered the "Scottish Jane Austen". And based on this book, I have to agree. We've got romance among the lower gentry, country folk coming to the city (in this case Bath), and, most prominent of all, lots of wry observations about other people's foibles. It's not exactly like Austen (among other things, there's a fairly heavy Christian tone to the narrative, though it never gets so moralizing as to ruin the fun for me), but it's close enough that if you like the one, you'll probably like the other.
So, the plot! Juliana is the daughter of an earl and is engaged to a (old, annoying, but rich) Duke. However, she is in love with a handsome soldier boy, Henry, so they elope. Henry is promptly fired from his position and Juliana disinherited by her father for such behavior, so they are forced to go live with Henry's family in rural Scotland. Since they're both shallow, spoiled, dumb young things, this is basically a fate worse than death, especially given Henry's collection of meddling spinster aunts. Juliana may have promised that she was willing to live in a desert to be with Henry, but it turns out that was because she didn't know what a desert is. Eventually Juliana gives birth to twin girls; she and Henry keep one, and the other is given to Henry's childless sister-in-law, a woman who stands out by being the only person with any sense and good-heartedness in the whole book.
All of this takes up the first third or so of the book. Afterwards we have a timeskip of sixteen years, allowing the twins to grow up. Juliana has managed to make it back into society, where she is a center of fashion. She's raised "her" twin, Adelaide, to be charming and to value marrying rich above all else – she doesn't want to see her daughter repeating her own mistake! The other twin, Mary, is well-read, charitable, humble, and has all the generic goody-two-shoes traits you might imagine, though she's a little too genuinely nice for me to ever resent her for this. The plot begins when Mary is sent off to Bath to meet her mother and sister for the first time in her life. People fall in love, marriages are made (not necessarily the same as the ones in love), and a multitude of ridiculous secondary characters march in and out of the narrative. My personal favorite was Doctor Redgill, a man so obsessed with food that he considers the only 'good marriage' to be one that comes with a French cook.
It was a fun book, but I have to complain about the edition I read (which I picked up for free from a box on the street, so I suppose I can't really grumble too much): Oxford University's "World's Classic" edition from 1986. It's stuffed full of footnotes: do you need what "backgammon" is explained to you? how about the phrase "you shouldn't game" (as in gamble)? And of course it is vitally important that a common phrase like 'it's an ill wind that blows no good' should come with a citation for its earliest appearance in print. On the other hand, an entire paragraph in French doesn't need a translation, silly! Doesn't everyone speak French? The editors are absolutely desperate to find allusions to other pieces of literature; I'm sure not every single time a character is described as "pale" it's a quote from Bryon. I literally can't imagine who these footnotes are intended for, and yet someone spent so much time assembling them, coming up with 4-5 per page. It's... funny? sad? irritating? Well, it's certainly memorable.
I enjoyed the book, though I might recommend acquiring a different edition.
So, the plot! Juliana is the daughter of an earl and is engaged to a (old, annoying, but rich) Duke. However, she is in love with a handsome soldier boy, Henry, so they elope. Henry is promptly fired from his position and Juliana disinherited by her father for such behavior, so they are forced to go live with Henry's family in rural Scotland. Since they're both shallow, spoiled, dumb young things, this is basically a fate worse than death, especially given Henry's collection of meddling spinster aunts. Juliana may have promised that she was willing to live in a desert to be with Henry, but it turns out that was because she didn't know what a desert is. Eventually Juliana gives birth to twin girls; she and Henry keep one, and the other is given to Henry's childless sister-in-law, a woman who stands out by being the only person with any sense and good-heartedness in the whole book.
All of this takes up the first third or so of the book. Afterwards we have a timeskip of sixteen years, allowing the twins to grow up. Juliana has managed to make it back into society, where she is a center of fashion. She's raised "her" twin, Adelaide, to be charming and to value marrying rich above all else – she doesn't want to see her daughter repeating her own mistake! The other twin, Mary, is well-read, charitable, humble, and has all the generic goody-two-shoes traits you might imagine, though she's a little too genuinely nice for me to ever resent her for this. The plot begins when Mary is sent off to Bath to meet her mother and sister for the first time in her life. People fall in love, marriages are made (not necessarily the same as the ones in love), and a multitude of ridiculous secondary characters march in and out of the narrative. My personal favorite was Doctor Redgill, a man so obsessed with food that he considers the only 'good marriage' to be one that comes with a French cook.
It was a fun book, but I have to complain about the edition I read (which I picked up for free from a box on the street, so I suppose I can't really grumble too much): Oxford University's "World's Classic" edition from 1986. It's stuffed full of footnotes: do you need what "backgammon" is explained to you? how about the phrase "you shouldn't game" (as in gamble)? And of course it is vitally important that a common phrase like 'it's an ill wind that blows no good' should come with a citation for its earliest appearance in print. On the other hand, an entire paragraph in French doesn't need a translation, silly! Doesn't everyone speak French? The editors are absolutely desperate to find allusions to other pieces of literature; I'm sure not every single time a character is described as "pale" it's a quote from Bryon. I literally can't imagine who these footnotes are intended for, and yet someone spent so much time assembling them, coming up with 4-5 per page. It's... funny? sad? irritating? Well, it's certainly memorable.
I enjoyed the book, though I might recommend acquiring a different edition.
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