Allusion in Tipping the Velvet

Through Diana and Florence, Sara Waters reveals differences in class through different preferences in literature. Diana is the rich and vicious widow bitch who rescues Nan from the streets. Diana keeps her collection of erotic pamphlets and novels hidden away in a trunk in her bedroom, which seems to be the approach of the wealthy. Not wanting to be associated with the 'Tom's' (Kitty's word for openly gay women), the wealthy hide their risque books and magazines. Admirably, the snobbish Diana helps produce a magazine on Suffrage, but considers Nan, the oyster-shop girl, too low class to gain anything from reading it.

Florence's taste in literature are quite different. Being the socialist activist who gives Nan a home after Diana throws her out, we come to understand her as being sensitive, intelligent and romantic through what she chooses to read. Florence spends much of her time working for Women’s Cooperative Guild and the union. Each night, Florence labored for the cause by writing, reading, comparing pages, and addressing envelopes. Through Florence, Nan discovers Elenanor Marx and Walt Whitman. For Florence, the intellectual writers were more of a source of stimulation than pornography. Sharing her preferences with Nan (they read out loud to each other) added the intimacy that solidified their relationship.

Lesbian Audiences

Something that struck me from the reading we did for Tipping the Velvet was the idea that Waters was quoted as targeting the book "primarily towards lesbians." It was a curious quote that came up during the Tipping presentation - the idea that a book can have a targeted aesthetic audience, as opposed to a target market audience. It seemed to me to be kind of a strange statement at first - why would the book need to "appeal" to lesbians more than any other demographic? Surely it could appeal to a rather broad spectrum of readers? But that got me thinking about the reasons one writes a novel. If one wants to make money, universal appeal (or as close as you can approximate) is certainly the way to go. But if one wants to talk about gender analysis and deconstruction, and has the focus of being read by a sympathetic or at least content-literate audience, then certain other ideas become easier to make work. Once you have the lesbian audience in mind, you can highlight certain elements of female or lesbian literature. That first-person vs. third-person argument, for instance. The movement of time and the structure of the plot, focusing on character development over external action. The attention to details associated with the feminine eye or perception. It's interesting to think about how the choice to appeal to lesbians influenced the style of Tipping the Velvet.

In Part Two of the novel, Nan has become very self centered. My annoyance with her started with how she treated Mrs. Milne and Gracie when she left to live with Diana. She knowingly makes promises to them she will not keep and only has very fleeting regrets about leaving them. She has somewhat if a one-track mind that is again seen in her willingness to drop everything in order to start a new life with her partner. When Nan left her family for Kitty, she seemed more upset about leaving even though she was quickly consoled by the prospect of being with Kitty. Unlike Diana, Nan was driven by her love and adoration of Kitty and by Kitty’s love of her. (At the time one does not know if this love is romantic but it is clear that Kitty genuinely cares for Nan.) With Diana, Nan just seems driven by the “500 days of pleasure” since she knowingly goes just to be Diana’s “tart” instead of wanting a real relationship.

Throughout her time at Felicity Place, Nan becomes more enamored with herself (Diana’s house is aptly named with felicity meaning happiness, delight, pleasure, which seems to be all Diana and Nan are concerned with). She spends all day primping and admiring herself as Diana dresses her up in fine clothing and gives her every luxury imaginable. Diana then dresses her up for her friends and Nan comments, “being admired by tasteful ladies—well I knew it wasn’t being loved. But it was something. And I was good at it.” She becomes more impressed by herself and her performances as she spends different paragraphs describing her looks and calls herself “almost unsettlingly attractive.”

Nan’s also begins to emphasize more material things as she only thinks of all her luxurious possessions when she is kicked out of Felicity place and later begs to collect them. As her and Zena wander the streets she keeps talking of Diana and is incredulous that she kicked her out. Even her proposal, in a desperate sort of way, seems half-hearted and selfish. Nan asks, “It won’t be so bad, Zena—will it? You’re the only tom I know in London, now; and since you’re all alone, I thought—we might make a go of it, mightn’t we?” Though in her desperateness I felt sympathy for Nan, I was somewhat glad that Zena left her.

Conveniently Vague

Once again, I want to talk about how the Outsider status of many of our protagonists is influenced by the necessary absence of familial obligations/limitations. Tipping the Velvet is a special case - unlike some of our other protagonists, Nan is neither orphan nor runaway nor grieving daughter, but rather a girl given fairly free rein which she eventually uses to simply leave. Nothing terribly climactic, she just starts living her own life and moving from relationship to relationship, situation to situation. Perhaps the closest example of such easy, passive independence is Lolly Willowes, another feminist read, which got me wondering if that's one of the motivations. Is it a male construction to introduce conflict or tragedy in order to fulfill the orphan fantasy? Perhaps it's a conscious decision on Waters' part to downplay the domestic drama in order to focus on the more important issues of Nan's life. Coming out to your family is supposed to be one of the biggest steps in the path of realized homosexuality, but I think that for feminism's sake, Waters deliberately moves past that to make it about the more nuanced post-adolescent development period.

While reading Tipping the Velvet, I kept thinking how a writing a Victorian novel from a modern perspective influences the text. I thought Fin made an interesting point about how Waters tells the story in a more approachable way than Dickens. She sets up a historical context without the implied understanding of the setting that Dickens uses to address his London audience. Waters creates a setting and language for the reader without assuming that the reader knows about the subject but also without spoon-feeding the information. She uses Nan as a narrator that tells the story as if she is talking with a person, starting the novel by directly addressing the reader with the second person. She then establishes the setting and vocabulary through context clues and carefully chosen details. Waters uses the word queer several times to create a double meaning between the definition at the time the novel is set (Strange, odd, peculiar, eccentric. Also: of questionable character; suspicious, dubious) and the connotations it carries now (of or pertaining to homosexuality). She mostly uses queer when all three meanings can be attached. As Danielle said, it makes the most sense meaning peculiar or of questionable character. However, it is also usually related to Nan’s feelings for Kitty or to dressing in man’s clothing. The modern reader can connect these things homosexuality and therefore to what many people considered (and sadly still consider) “of questionable character.” I was trying to figure out what this double meaning accomplished because it seems to reinforce homosexuality in a negative light. I think Walters must have used this to show the origin of the word queer and emphasize society’s opposition to homosexuality.

Sensitivity in Tipping the Velvet

What is certainly exceptional in Waters' novel is the care she uses in depicting the lesbian relationship. By creating a innocent, honest and open-minded central character in Nan, the reader is able to nearly take this provocative journey of self-discovery along with the main character instead of viewing it from the standpoint of an outsider. With sensitivity and an intimate perspective of the relationship through Nan's viewpoint, Waters is able to take some of the sting out of a relationship that might be difficult to understand by some. Nan is paralleled with Kitty, the character who questions her true identity.

Lavish detailed descriptions evoke a realistic quality, such as describing the warm of her love interest's clothing and the sensuality in her manner. Comparisons between the societal difficulties of homosexual relationship during the Victorian era and present day immediately and effortlessly spring to mind. One questions if a relationship of this nature would be so simplistic in the 1890's?

Water chose a most erotic, yet almost common topic for the opening of the novel-- oysters. The satirical plot of a person of low social class attempting to survive in a corrupt society has been seen in other bildungsromans we have read this semester. We have no overtly evil characters yet. It seems that our characters are forced to deal with their inner demons as a motivation to develop in this work.

Nan seems to be experiencing infatuation with Kitty during the first part of the novel. We are learning to understand her almost completely through her relationships with others. It will be interesting to see the other types of loves she experiences as the novel progresses.

While I found Esty’s argument somewhat compelling, and I do think he drew some interesting claims that could, possibly, be substantiated, I could help but feel like much of his paper had the air of someone grasping at straws. From my reading of The Story of an African Farm, I didn’t feel like there was much of a focus on colonialism. As we discussed in class, I think that a feminist reading of the novel is much more supported by the actual novel itself. Sure, Esty could (and did) find some things that he could make fit into a reading on colonialism, but reading his paper kind of made me wonder how much license we, as readers, have when interpreting a novel. Where do we draw the line between looking beyond the literal and exploring underlying meanings, and reading too much into something? Just because you can find bits and pieces of a story that you can make fit into some hypothesis or idea doesn’t mean that it’s necessarily valid to do so, and while the literary acrobatics can no doubt be impressive, are they worthwhile? I think that I would be more accepting of Esty’s argument if I felt that there was more of an overtone concerning colonialism in the story, but I just didn’t feel that there was. I feel like we would have had to see more of colonialism at play, and we really didn’t. It goes beyond Schreiner being racist in the typically nineteenth century way – there wasn’t much evidence of the native Africans, period. And to me, colonialism isn’t colonialism if the native population isn’t figured into the picture somehow. Even if Schreiner was focusing on the effects of colonialism on the transplanted Europeans, there still has to be some sense of their interactions with the community and people around them. I don’t feel like there is in Story of an African Farm. I’m pretty sure Schreiner could have taken this farm and plopped it down in Louisiana, Ireland, Germany – any place you can think of – and the story would have turned out much the same.

Going back to what we were discussing in regards to Bonaparte being a necessary archetypal character... I do feel that every story needs someone like him in order to advance the plot. Especially in such a static location, where the characters are virtually isolated and the farm itself is the sum of the current setting. I don’t think anything would have changed on the farm without some kind of catalyst; roles were too well-established, and those with power (the adults) were too comfortable in their positions. Change is impossible without enough incentive, just like necessity is the mother of invention: without something to respond to and against, Lyndall would not have had a reason to become such a reactionary character. Also, the plot would not have developed at all and the potential for a rather boring story would actually turn into a rather boring story.

 I mean, even with Bonaparte around to shake things up, the characters themselves remain fairly static; Lyndall never really accomplishes much despite all her big ideals, and Em just stays this passive character built solely to react to the things that Lyndall does. This is one of those books where you can guess from the beginning that certain characters are going to die, and it really didn’t let me down. Since they lived in a world where the degree of change necessary to actually break the mold was impossible to achieve, there was only one way to end the story: by ending the characters.

Cross-Genre Christopher

Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time offers us an interesting example of the cross-genre novel - it is, I believe significant for having been released simultaneously in the children's fiction and adult novel markets. It's not hard to see why the formula works - it's the story of a child character dealing with adult issues in a certainly adult-dominated world. Certainly, bereft of any "normal" children, or at any rate a school environment populated by younger characters, the world of Christopher Boone revolves mostly around the adults that influence him, and his stoic actions and reactions against. To the young, it's a beginner's detective novel and a convincing portrait of the confusion and newness of youth. To the older set, it's an examination of how the traditions of 'The Detective Novel' and typical translators can be twisted to serve new purposes and tell new stories, stories that give a different message and are more about the human condition than they are about the deviant criminal mind. The book certainly serves as an important bridge between the genres and is a fine example of a book that has a specific focus with a huge appeal.

Religion in Story of an African Farm

It has been interesting to see how various characters’ relationships with religion unfold in Story of an African Farm. On the one hand, Otto (as we talked about in class) seems to be the consummate Christian – he believes so wholly and completely in everything that he has been taught by his religion, and this unyielding belief doesn’t serve him well. He puts his trust in people he shouldn’t, and his naïveté results in his being taken advantage of by Bonaparte. We see a little bit of Tant Sannie’s religious views as well, in her fear that Em’s father’s ghost is watching her. The thought of his ghost lingering is the only thing that keeps her from beating Em and Lyndall, because she fears the wrath of the ghost. Like Otto, her religious beliefs seem to be somewhat black and white – she accepts without question the idea that there are otherwordly or ethereal forces watching her movements, and she acts as she expects those forces want her to act. Waldo’s religious views, on the other hand, are much more difficult to tease apart and pin down than either Tant Sannie’s or Otto’s (at least, in my mind). At one point, we have Otto saying that he loves Jesus but hates God, but later he reverses on this view. His religious ideas seem to swing from one extreme to another, and there is little consistency about his views throughout the portion of the novel that we have read so far. While there is certainly a level of instability in his religious beliefs, it seems as if he really does want to believe something – which could be why his ideas seem to gravitate toward one extreme or another. Unlike the rest of the characters, whose ideologies seem somewhat static, Waldo’s seem to be constantly in flux, because unlike the others, I think he is truly thinking about religion and trying to work through some pretty complex concepts in his head, instead of simply taking religious teachings at their word. The effort to piece through everything and make it fit into a ideological framework proves to be difficult for Waldo, and I think that’s why we see such a change in his views. I think it seems like he’s simply trying out a lot of different ideas and theories and seeing what works, what offers the best explanation. Since Schreiner spends so much time depicting her characters’ religious views and Waldo’s struggle with his own, it makes me wonder if she does think (as Waldo seems to), that if you try hard enough, you can find a theory that’s the “best” one. If I had to guess, I would say that Schreiner probably thinks that finding the “best” ideology is of secondary importance to the actual process of sifting through different ideologies and critically thinking about them (as opposed to simply accepting what you have been taught without question).

Feminism on the Farm

Lyndall returns from boarding school as a feminist. She pities Em because she has chosen to marry Gregory. She seems to have much to say to Waldo, following him around the farm, telling to him about school and complaining about how difficult society has made it for women.

Depicting this novel as a feminist work is rather difficult for me, since all the feminist beliefs are displayed so late in the novel. Lyndall becomes educated, but returns to the farm pregnant, but she doesn't want to get married because she believes she will lose her freedom. She leaves the farm again, comes back sick and Gregory (dressed as a woman) takes care of her until she dies.

While the idea's of education and freedom for a woman are central to the feminist movement, by giving the character so many hardships after these decisions, it is difficult to say the Schreiner is a proponent of these beliefs. The novel nominally explores a woman's position in marriage and in the world as a whole, but only at the very end.

I understand that this is Schreiner's first novel, but it lacks balance. The most important themes are lightly touched, while she spends a great deal of the book on a person with no redeeming qualities. The most admirable aspect of this novel, with respect to feminism, is that Lyndall, who at first appears to have the fewest choices, is the most determined.

Waldo's Transformation

I have being thinking about Bonaparte's treatment to the children and the impact. We talked in class about every novel needs a bastard to add conflict and to give the characters something to rise about. I agreed with that...the idea that Bonaparte is the first major struggle they all encounter in their young lives.

Bonaparte also puts an ends to Waldo's mystical view of the world. Before Bonaparte, Waldo believes there is love and fairness in the world, as long as he is faithful. The believer dies with Bonaparte's departure and Waldo has a different view of the world.

Lyndall is so independent that Bonaparte is unsure of her. She challenges him by exposing his lies and punishes Em, because is is afraid of Lyndall. Lyndall shows no interest in religion. She believes that she must rely on herself to survive and rewarded by escaping Bonaparte unscathed.

Bonaparte is a sadistic liar. His character is the opposite of Waldo's, who appears more God-fearing. By the end of Bonaparte's visit, Waldo seems calm and at peace with himself. He has no fear of Bonaparte because of his mew view on the world. This is an important phase in his maturity. I agree with Christine, that he is the most interesting character in the novel.

I think Waldo is by far the most interesting character in the novel up to this point. Although his relationship with religion is taken to the extremes, I think it is still very plausible. Like most people, he turns to religion as his “center” that will explain unknowns and show him how to live. However, he cannot reconcile the inconsistencies in the Church. At the beginning of chapter five, he questions the Bible stories and if there can be an absolute truth. He asks, “Could a story be told in opposite ways and both ways be true? Could it? Could it? Then again:--Is there nothing always right, and nothing always wrong?” (33). . At this point it has been two years since his confessed his hatred for God and he has somehow revived his religious fervor. I think his repetition of “could it?” shows his sense of desperation in trying to reconcile the inconsistencies and stay close to God. Throughout the novel he seems to be forcing religion upon himself as an answer to the unknown. Waldo even consoles himself by repeating that although he doesn’t understand, God does and that is all that matters. In the chapter entitled Times and Seasons, we see more of Waldo’s own explanations for his strong vacillations. As someone who was raised Catholic, I could identify to a point with the stages Waldo explains. I think most of us view him as extreme because religion in general was more extreme in the time of the novel. There is not so much emphasis on hellfire and death in modern religion so Waldo seems somewhat morbid when he focuses them. Although this is hard to identify with, I think his need for truth is very universal.