Vanity Fair, William Thackeray

I just finished "Thackeray's masterpiece." - and liked it. I tried to read it years ago and ran short of time. I don't think I would have liked it at seventeen... like Middlemarch, it is a "classic for adults."

I would have thought Becky evil incarnate years ago, perhaps. But I admire her Becky and almost wish for her success. We wish for Dobbin's success, too, we want a happy ending and are satisfied! Becky is not subdued but remains as intriguing as she ever was. Sometimes you are inclined to pity her for being an orphan. You wonder in what way of life can she otherwise find happiness. I find that in her I get a glimpse of people who are "too pretty and clever for their own good" - people who strive to please, and succeed.

quotes:
The best of women are hypocrites. We don't know how much they hide from us: how watchful they are when they seem most artless and confidentaial, how often those frank smiles, which they wear so easily, are traps to cajole or elude or disarm - I don't mean in your mere coquettes, but your domestic models ,and paragons of female virtue. Who has not seen a woman dhide the dulness of a stupid husband, or coax the fury of a savage one? We accept this amiable slavishness, and praise a woman for it: we call this pretty treachery truth. 137

By humbly and frankly acknowledging yourself to be in the wrong, there is no knowing, my son, what good you may do. I knew once a gentleman and very worthy practitioner in vanity fair, who used to do little wrongs to his heighbours on prupose, and in order ot apologise for them in an open and manly way afterwrads - and what ensued? My friend Crocky Doyle was like everywhere, andd eemed to be rather impetuous but the honestest fellow. 179

As his hero and heroine pass the matrimonial barrier, the novelist generally drops the curtain, as if the drama were over then: the doubts and struggles of life ended: as if, once landed in the marriage country, all were green and pleasant there: and wife and husbnad had nothing but to link each other's arms together, and wander gently downwards towards old age in happy and perfect frution. (But our little Amelia was just on the bank of her new country, and was already looking anxioulsy back towards the sad friendly figures waving farewell to her across the stream, from teh other distant shore. 216

I really like the picture (how sad, stirring, bitter) of Rawdon's departure to battle:

Faithful to his old plan of economy, the Captain dressed himself in his oldest and shabbiest of uniform and epaulets, leaving the newest behind his wife's 9or it might be his widow's) guardinaship. And this famous dandy of Windsor and hyped Park went off on his campaign with a kit as modest as that of a sergeant, and with something like a prayer on his lips for the woman he was leaving. He took her up from the ground, and held her in his arms for a minute, tight pressed aginast his strong-beating heart. his face was purple and his eyes dim, as he put her down and left her.


concerning Geroge's burial:
Which of us can tell how much vanity lurks in our warmest regard for others, and how selfish our love is?

I think the tale is a very clever one of reversals and opposites. Rebecca goes from poverty to wealth by din of her wits, Amelia from wealth to poverty for too gentle affection. Rebecca does not love her husband, who is devoted to her; Amelia adores her too much for her own good. Ditto for the sons. Amelia ruins her husband, but Becky makes hers' fortune.

I think Dobbin's move at the end was very wise. Even though I am a patron of fidelity and tragic love, I wanted Amelia to be happy, I wanted Dobbin (who is endeared to me by his awkwardness) to finally gain his long endeavoured prize.

And how like Rebecca to be involved in the blackest, most intriguing scandal! She triumphs to the end.

It's a jolly comedy.