Showing posts with label servant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label servant. Show all posts

Sunday, November 22, 2015

#206 The Blush- Elizabeth Taylor


#206 The Blush- Elizabeth Taylor

Lying, deceit, domestic squabbles, and class warfare, this story had a little of each but not enough of any to make it all that interesting. The mistress of the house is a judgmental gossip. Here she begins by making it sound as though she supports and defends her house maid, but then by the end she turns her harsh eyes on the ugliness of the lower class:

“She did not deliberately mislead him, but she took advantage of his indifference. Her relationship with Mrs. Lacey and the intimacy of their conversations in the kitchen he would not have approved, and the sight of those calloused feet with their chipped nail varnish and yellowing heels would have sickened him.”

But then we have nothing to actually celebrate in the servant either. She’s a drunk, absentee mother, and lying, cheating spouse. So, without a true protagonist, there was little to hold onto.





Tuesday, August 18, 2015

#110 Mary Postgate- Rudyard Kipling


#110 Mary Postgate- Rudyard Kipling

England during WWII. The Fowler household is Mrs. Fowler, her son Wynn, and their house maid Mary Postgate. Wynn is training to be a fighter pilot but dies before seeing action. One day a young girl is shot and killed during a German bombing raid. That’s the story.

It’s a very proper English setting telling a very proper English story in a very proper English manner. The characters to my ears seem cold and unsentimental. Her son dies and the Mother doesn’t cry: “It can’t be natural not to cry…I’m so afraid you’ll have a reaction.” But she doesn’t, she just makes sure that Mary systematically takes care of all Wynn’s belongings, mostly burning them. They wonder why he kept old letters from them.

And Mary is a prototypical image of a dutiful English servant:

“Mary was not young, and though her speech was as colorless as her eyes or her hair, she was never shocked.”

Noticing Mary for the first time is 11 years of service as an individual person, Mrs. Fowler asks: “Mary, aren’t you anything except a companion? Would you ever have been anything except a companion?”

To which Mary coolly replies: “No…I don’t imagine I ever should. But I’ve no imagination, I’m afraid.” Fun times!

After witnessing a child die bleeding in the street, her reaction: “One mustn’t let ones mind dwell on these things.”

I can recognize a good story and a talented hand when I read it, but that doesn’t mean I will always enjoy them. There is just something about these old English stories about the lives of high society and their servants that misses me completely. I know I’m showing my ignorance, but this is my blog and I want to be honest.




Thursday, July 9, 2015

#68 A Simple Heart- Gustave Flaubert


#68 A Simple Heart- Gustave Flaubert

This is the life of Felicite, an orphan, a servant, a person of little consequence. She is innocent, and simple. The basic things in this world elude her understanding. Looking at a map of the world, she asked to be shown a picture of her nephew’s house.

However, she is capable of love, and affection. She is overwhelmed by spirituality upon hearing the story of Christ, but upon a revisit:

“…she presented herself early at he church so as to receive communion from the cure. She took it with the proper feeling, but did not experience the same delight as on the previous day.”

And again when she is overwhelmed by life, she learned to adapt and overcome her anger quickly. When Madame Aubain worried about not receiving a letter from her daughter in 4 days, Felicite told her hat she hadn’t heard from her own nephew in 6 months. Madame Aubain’s response:

“I did not think of it. Besides, I do not care, a cabin-boy, a pauper! But my daughter, what a difference. Just think of it!”

Her initial indignation gave way to indifference to the slight.  Although her life and death go unnoticed, hers is a meaningful one. Felicity has the uncanny capability to love, and live with oneself without regret and without baggage. 

Some stories are timeless, some translate through time, language, circumstance. I’m not sure if this is one such story. However, the themes are timeless and the language beautiful.