Roughly when you were writing this, I was reading the second half of Perry Anderson's *Different Speeds, Same Furies,* a book about the historical novel / Zeitroman / novel-of-ideas--basically, for those who don't know it, a short collection of essays about the novel as history. (I was pointed to it by Secret Squirrel I think.)
I did not re-read the Powell/Proust first half, but the historical novel essay and the one about Montesquieu's Persian letters were really interesting in the context of conversations here on substack.
The latter, an essay about a roman philosophique AS epistolary novel, concludes with a gesture at later developments, specifically, "the modern novel of ideas, in which characters both articulate and embody different standpoints, whose conflicts detonate the action - Dostoevsky, Musil, Malraux, Sartre. Their narrative superiority is enormous, to the point where we are tempted to deny the term 'novel' to any work, like Persian Letters, which falls so far short of it. But a price came with the gain. The range and originality of the ideas that animate these works is less - had to be less, to shape a compelling plot - than those which the president of the Bordeaux Parlement offered so disarmingly to the public three centuries ago." (193)
It is remarkable how your conclusions rhyme: that there are things the epistolary form does better than the more sophisticated later novel, the formal sophistication comes at a loss. For Anderson, it is ideas, for you, it is experience, and whereas you really think about the form, Anderson does not really do much with it beyond quoting Montesquieu's own comments, and that turns out to be a disappointment when contrasted with how you talk about the affordances of the letters. But in both your case and his, there is a loss, and that loss means losing the achievement of the Enlightenment.
OK, I really have to read that. I believe I was part of the same discussion with Secret Squirrel and have been meaning to check it out, but was too busy over break reading a different Perry Anderson book (the new one, Disputing Disaster, which is absolutely excellent).
Yes, I think there is a parallel. It's partly formal, but it's partly also philosophical in a broader sense of the term than Anderson might admit--that is, ethics, sex roles, the politics of the family, bourgeois vs. aristocratic modes of social organization. Of course, these are at issue in many (most?) novels, and variants are certainly at issue in the philosophical novel. But not all novels presuppose the same level of conversation and reflection about each episode and detail. As Anderson suggests, debate, or, in formal terms, dialogue, is crucial to the novel of ideas. (I wonder what he thinks about philosophical theater--say Ibsen?) But I think the advantage the epistolary novel has even over the later, dialogue-rich novel of ideas is that, at least in the right hands, the urgency and immediacy of the letter form essentially forces readers to debate and discuss, and not just at the conclusion, but throughout the work. In some respects, Clarissa might be closer to the Persian Letters than to, say, Effie Briest, even though the themes of the latter two are much closer.
Anyway, now I've really got to read this book, thanks!
I am not sure you do, and there isn't much there in any case--if I wanted to be mean I would say the Montesquieu essay is, with the exception of a couple of passages like the one I quoted, high level wikipedia. Having an encyclopedic mind can be an obstacle. The main part of the book is the Powell/Proust essay, and I remember we discussed we had all read that. There is an essay about the historical novel, which is not earth-shattering. The book is a project of self-archiving: here is what I wrote about this kind of stuff, the novel as history.
I think you are right about Clarissa, Persian letters, and Effi Briest, and I think Anderson would agree, but I also think he could not add anything to what you just said.
The task is so much more daunting for the would-be Richardsons of the 2020s! Substack notes (and DMs), sure, but also--emails (still), one-on-one texting, a friend group chat, a family group chat, normal Instagram stories, green circle Instagram stories, Instagram DMs, dating app messaging, Whatsapp voice notes, Discord, Twitter, Twitter DMs, maybe even Venmo. And then, since we are all immersed in our own versions of this, who would take the trouble to read it, however brilliantly executed? (I at least have yet to get to Clarissa)
Yes, very true--the heterogeneous, diffuse, at once social and isolating media environment today doesn't make things any easier. And then there's the fact that real letters were often beautifully written, even by ordinary intelligent types who weren't professional writers. A three-page-long, elegantly composed letter, full of social observations and gossip, is obviously an easier building block from which to construct a complex, well-written novel than a handful of group chats and some Venmo receipts. (Not even going to touch Instagram, ha ha.)
This is such an interesting subject. I don’t think I’ve read an epistolary novel, although maybe something in high school. You definitely made me want to check out Clarissa. I do wonder what an epistolary novel could look like today. Could the characters be “old school” or maybe older people? Or they maybe use letters because what they’re discussing is highly confidential and they don’t trust today’s usual forms of communication?
What is crazy, though, is that The Letters of a Portuguese Nun held such mystique on people’s intellectual minds because it was first advertised as a translation and as "authentic." Even Rilke translated the text to German thinking this. We didn’t understand their fictionality and French origin until 1954!
Very true! And it wasn't an insane assumption when so many letter collections, and so many early novels, were at most only lightly fictionalized. Still a little surprising that it took quite SO long.
Tobias Smollett’s “Humphrey Clinker” was one of my A-level set texts, though I told someone this the other day and they refused to believe me! Unforgettably vivid characterisation.
Ha ha, that's amazing. Very different from what you might encounter in the American equivalent! It's been a long time since I read anything by Smollett but maybe I should go back to him. I remember really liking his book reviews.
My recollection is that HC is entirely epistolary but I might be misremembering. I don’t have it here. My A level teaching was amazing to be honest, I was very lucky. Hardly anyone even reads 18th c novels at degree level anymore. We also did Joyce, Conrad, Lawrence, Milton, loads of Shakespeare, two books of Chaucer, but also fun contemporary things too like The Buddha of Suburbia and Seth’s verse novel The Golden Gate.
Love this topic. Julianne, if you haven't read it, I highly recommend Algernon Swinburne's neo-Laclosian epistolary novel Love's Cross Currents (1905)--sort of a coelocanth of the form (as are his louche high aristocrats in the age of Victorian middle-class hegemony).
Roughly when you were writing this, I was reading the second half of Perry Anderson's *Different Speeds, Same Furies,* a book about the historical novel / Zeitroman / novel-of-ideas--basically, for those who don't know it, a short collection of essays about the novel as history. (I was pointed to it by Secret Squirrel I think.)
I did not re-read the Powell/Proust first half, but the historical novel essay and the one about Montesquieu's Persian letters were really interesting in the context of conversations here on substack.
The latter, an essay about a roman philosophique AS epistolary novel, concludes with a gesture at later developments, specifically, "the modern novel of ideas, in which characters both articulate and embody different standpoints, whose conflicts detonate the action - Dostoevsky, Musil, Malraux, Sartre. Their narrative superiority is enormous, to the point where we are tempted to deny the term 'novel' to any work, like Persian Letters, which falls so far short of it. But a price came with the gain. The range and originality of the ideas that animate these works is less - had to be less, to shape a compelling plot - than those which the president of the Bordeaux Parlement offered so disarmingly to the public three centuries ago." (193)
It is remarkable how your conclusions rhyme: that there are things the epistolary form does better than the more sophisticated later novel, the formal sophistication comes at a loss. For Anderson, it is ideas, for you, it is experience, and whereas you really think about the form, Anderson does not really do much with it beyond quoting Montesquieu's own comments, and that turns out to be a disappointment when contrasted with how you talk about the affordances of the letters. But in both your case and his, there is a loss, and that loss means losing the achievement of the Enlightenment.
OK, I really have to read that. I believe I was part of the same discussion with Secret Squirrel and have been meaning to check it out, but was too busy over break reading a different Perry Anderson book (the new one, Disputing Disaster, which is absolutely excellent).
Yes, I think there is a parallel. It's partly formal, but it's partly also philosophical in a broader sense of the term than Anderson might admit--that is, ethics, sex roles, the politics of the family, bourgeois vs. aristocratic modes of social organization. Of course, these are at issue in many (most?) novels, and variants are certainly at issue in the philosophical novel. But not all novels presuppose the same level of conversation and reflection about each episode and detail. As Anderson suggests, debate, or, in formal terms, dialogue, is crucial to the novel of ideas. (I wonder what he thinks about philosophical theater--say Ibsen?) But I think the advantage the epistolary novel has even over the later, dialogue-rich novel of ideas is that, at least in the right hands, the urgency and immediacy of the letter form essentially forces readers to debate and discuss, and not just at the conclusion, but throughout the work. In some respects, Clarissa might be closer to the Persian Letters than to, say, Effie Briest, even though the themes of the latter two are much closer.
Anyway, now I've really got to read this book, thanks!
I am not sure you do, and there isn't much there in any case--if I wanted to be mean I would say the Montesquieu essay is, with the exception of a couple of passages like the one I quoted, high level wikipedia. Having an encyclopedic mind can be an obstacle. The main part of the book is the Powell/Proust essay, and I remember we discussed we had all read that. There is an essay about the historical novel, which is not earth-shattering. The book is a project of self-archiving: here is what I wrote about this kind of stuff, the novel as history.
I think you are right about Clarissa, Persian letters, and Effi Briest, and I think Anderson would agree, but I also think he could not add anything to what you just said.
Will you write about the WWI book?
The task is so much more daunting for the would-be Richardsons of the 2020s! Substack notes (and DMs), sure, but also--emails (still), one-on-one texting, a friend group chat, a family group chat, normal Instagram stories, green circle Instagram stories, Instagram DMs, dating app messaging, Whatsapp voice notes, Discord, Twitter, Twitter DMs, maybe even Venmo. And then, since we are all immersed in our own versions of this, who would take the trouble to read it, however brilliantly executed? (I at least have yet to get to Clarissa)
Yes, very true--the heterogeneous, diffuse, at once social and isolating media environment today doesn't make things any easier. And then there's the fact that real letters were often beautifully written, even by ordinary intelligent types who weren't professional writers. A three-page-long, elegantly composed letter, full of social observations and gossip, is obviously an easier building block from which to construct a complex, well-written novel than a handful of group chats and some Venmo receipts. (Not even going to touch Instagram, ha ha.)
This is such an interesting subject. I don’t think I’ve read an epistolary novel, although maybe something in high school. You definitely made me want to check out Clarissa. I do wonder what an epistolary novel could look like today. Could the characters be “old school” or maybe older people? Or they maybe use letters because what they’re discussing is highly confidential and they don’t trust today’s usual forms of communication?
I like the idea of a highly confidential letter exchange!
What is crazy, though, is that The Letters of a Portuguese Nun held such mystique on people’s intellectual minds because it was first advertised as a translation and as "authentic." Even Rilke translated the text to German thinking this. We didn’t understand their fictionality and French origin until 1954!
Very true! And it wasn't an insane assumption when so many letter collections, and so many early novels, were at most only lightly fictionalized. Still a little surprising that it took quite SO long.
Tobias Smollett’s “Humphrey Clinker” was one of my A-level set texts, though I told someone this the other day and they refused to believe me! Unforgettably vivid characterisation.
Ha ha, that's amazing. Very different from what you might encounter in the American equivalent! It's been a long time since I read anything by Smollett but maybe I should go back to him. I remember really liking his book reviews.
My recollection is that HC is entirely epistolary but I might be misremembering. I don’t have it here. My A level teaching was amazing to be honest, I was very lucky. Hardly anyone even reads 18th c novels at degree level anymore. We also did Joyce, Conrad, Lawrence, Milton, loads of Shakespeare, two books of Chaucer, but also fun contemporary things too like The Buddha of Suburbia and Seth’s verse novel The Golden Gate.
Oh thanks for this! My favourite is isherwoods’s a meeting by the river
Love this topic. Julianne, if you haven't read it, I highly recommend Algernon Swinburne's neo-Laclosian epistolary novel Love's Cross Currents (1905)--sort of a coelocanth of the form (as are his louche high aristocrats in the age of Victorian middle-class hegemony).
Wow, great recommendation. Can’t believe I missed it in my Swinburne obsessed youth. I’ll check it out.