Villette

The protagonist of Villette, Lucy Snowe, is like that friend you have whom you know needs Prozac, but you can’t think of a polite way to tell her. Lucy is the embodiment of an introvert and would probably be diagnosed with social anxiety disorder today. She is depressed and depressive; often acerbically witty in thought, but rarely able to transform this wit into action. When it comes to social interactions she freezes like a bucket of water in a January snowstorm.

She sounds dreary, doesn’t she? The truth is, all of the Bronte’s were dreary women and you either love them for it or run as fast as you can to the Austen section and pick out a book that doesn’t make you want to hurl yourself onto the desolate moor and bemoan the wicked unfairness of life and the inconsistency of men.

So, why should you read this novel? Because even though Lucy may need anti-depressants, the portrait Bronte writes of her is one of intense believability. Her feelings are real. When she talks about being forgotten or being alone or what it feels like to love someone and know that they would never even think twice about you in the same way – you get it. You understand her when she describes what it feels like to know that you aren’t impressive, that you don’t fit in, and that you will never be like the popular girls. Despite herself, Lucy Snowe is likable - she just doesn’t know it.

And the prose … wow! Bronte’s genius drips from her pen in a series of similes and metaphors that will transform the way you see the world. One of my favorite passages was this description of the moon:

“Where, indeed, does the moon not look well? What is the scene, confined or expansive, which her orb does not hallow? Rosy or fiery, she mounted now above a not distant bank; even while we watched her flushed ascent, she cleared to gold, and in a very brief space, floated up stainless into a now calm sky” (208).

If that doesn’t give you goose bumps, you probably don’t want to attempt the 555 pages of this novel.