Stephen Gordon grows up in the Malvern Hills of rural Worcestershire, the child of a rich local landowner and an Irish mother, from early on learns to hunt, fence, and engage in a plethora of other outdoor occupations, experiences first amorous stirrings for a plump and pretty housemaid, upon reachi...
‘God,’ she gasped, we believe; we have told You we believe . . . We have not denied You, then rise up and defend us. Acknowledge us, oh God, before the whole world. Give us also the right to our existence!’ First things first, the cover on this edition is absurdly unrepresentative of the book. ...
‘Joan! I don’t know you awfully well , and of course you’re only a kid as yet, but Elizabeth says you’re clever— and don’t you let yourself be bottled.’ ‘Bottled?’ she queried. ‘Don’t you get all cramped up and fuggy, like one does when one sits over a fire all day. I know what I mean, it sounds a...
Historical importance doesn't always make for much of a novel. Stephen comes across very much as a sort of Mary Sue for Hall herself whose ideas about gender roles, class, race, and religion reveal her own degree of privilege. Rather than loving women, I felt as if she held them in contempt.
So, Stephen.. She's born sometime in the late 18-somethings to well off parents, they call her Stephen because her parents have wanted and somewhat expected a boy child for about 10 years, and her father wants to stick with the name they chose. As it turns out, they did pretty much get a boy. As a...
what could have been a fascinating chronicle of a tough butch interloper challenging mainstream society becomes the drippy tale of a woman who just wants to be loved, and the cruel little bitch who leads her on. oh what a deep well! the writing's pretty swell though, that can't be denied. tres elega...
i wanted to like this book more than i did. but i also wanted the main character to be stronger than she was, and have a better understanding of women and homosexuality. (while attracted to women she followed the times and relegated them to weak and meaningless roles, didn't believe in their power...
See my journal entry
I read this and Rubyfruit Jungle the same weekend. I was 14 and I'd bought them sleathily from the "feminist" bookstore on Chapel Street in New Haven. (I wish I could remember the name of that bookstore. The Golden Something.) And Rubyfruit Jungle seemed like the world that was possible but The Well...
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