Thanksgiving has come and gone, as well as a head cold and a ripped up finger. Can I go back to normal now? Oh, wait – Christmas is around the corner.
Instead of writing much, I’ve been reading. And I just finished re-reading The Scarlet Letter by Nathanial Hawthorne. One must have a liking for 19th century literature to enjoy him; his writing style is much more formal than is common today, and the topics he assumes – particularly Puritan religiosity – are no longer universal. As an American writer, Hawthorne doesn’t qualify as a Victorian, even though he wrote The Scarlet Letter while Victoria was Queen of England. In fact, I was struck on this re-read how his style is closer to British 18th century prose. Another genre I eat up with a fork and spoon.
Understanding his contemporary literary conventions, the plot is brilliant. By current standards, it’s too obvious that Pastor Dimmesdale is Hester Prynne’s partner in tryst, and too convenient that he drops dead as he admits it to all of Salem. But as a period piece, the public shaming of a woman for bearing a child out of wedlock is accurate, even if cruel by present day beliefs. Yes, the Puritans were like that; Hawthorne makes mention of Reverend Cotton Mather, who, along with his minister father Increase Mather helped drive the prosecutions of the infamous Salem Witch Trials of 1692. The Scarlet Letter is set a few years before the trials, and Hawthorne identifies a few minor characters in the novel who would pay the ultimate price during them.
Hawthorne draws Arthur Dimmesdale as a weak person, consumed over a seven year period by the guilt of his liaison with Prynne (referred to repeatedly as their “sin,” in keeping with the period setting). He is not a bad man at all, just too afraid to lose his position of social rank to admit the truth. He is set upon by an elderly physician, now called Roger Chillingworth, who – unknown to anyone but himself and Prynne – at one time had been Hester’s husband, presumed lost at sea years earlier. As an outward symbol of Chillingworth’s evil desire for revenge, he is pictured having a vaguely defined deformity.
Hester Prynne is the heroine of the story. She accepts the guilt and wears the fabric (as opposed to a branded) “A” for adultery as a warning to all the citizens of Salem. Nonetheless she gradually wins back a great deal of acceptance and regard from the townspeople over her seven years of wearing the badge of shame, and lives an upright life of near-solitude. Her daughter from her mating with Dimmesdale, Pearl, is an innocent chorus, asking questions or making observations that would be inconceivable from any adult.
Hawthorne tells this third person story within the bookends of a first person account: of being a Salem port surveyor (which Hawthorne really was) who finds the tantalizing embroidered fabric “A” in an old, dusty box in a disused room at the colonial customs house. The exposition goes on longer than I like, but he returns in the last few pages to tie a bow around the structure. We get a few paragraphs suggesting a peaceful ending for Hester and a glorious future for Pearl. If you can suspend your disbelief and accept the period assumptions, the book is brilliant!
The good things about reading compelling and well-constructed stories are the ideas, and the inspiration. The bad thing is the second thought: Who am I to think I can match Nathaniel Hawthorne?
I can’t help but think that if I told old Nate about Amy and Paul, he’d send me over the Mather’s church to be put in the stocks!
Instead of writing much, I’ve been reading. And I just finished re-reading The Scarlet Letter by Nathanial Hawthorne. One must have a liking for 19th century literature to enjoy him; his writing style is much more formal than is common today, and the topics he assumes – particularly Puritan religiosity – are no longer universal. As an American writer, Hawthorne doesn’t qualify as a Victorian, even though he wrote The Scarlet Letter while Victoria was Queen of England. In fact, I was struck on this re-read how his style is closer to British 18th century prose. Another genre I eat up with a fork and spoon.
Understanding his contemporary literary conventions, the plot is brilliant. By current standards, it’s too obvious that Pastor Dimmesdale is Hester Prynne’s partner in tryst, and too convenient that he drops dead as he admits it to all of Salem. But as a period piece, the public shaming of a woman for bearing a child out of wedlock is accurate, even if cruel by present day beliefs. Yes, the Puritans were like that; Hawthorne makes mention of Reverend Cotton Mather, who, along with his minister father Increase Mather helped drive the prosecutions of the infamous Salem Witch Trials of 1692. The Scarlet Letter is set a few years before the trials, and Hawthorne identifies a few minor characters in the novel who would pay the ultimate price during them.
Hawthorne draws Arthur Dimmesdale as a weak person, consumed over a seven year period by the guilt of his liaison with Prynne (referred to repeatedly as their “sin,” in keeping with the period setting). He is not a bad man at all, just too afraid to lose his position of social rank to admit the truth. He is set upon by an elderly physician, now called Roger Chillingworth, who – unknown to anyone but himself and Prynne – at one time had been Hester’s husband, presumed lost at sea years earlier. As an outward symbol of Chillingworth’s evil desire for revenge, he is pictured having a vaguely defined deformity.
Hester Prynne is the heroine of the story. She accepts the guilt and wears the fabric (as opposed to a branded) “A” for adultery as a warning to all the citizens of Salem. Nonetheless she gradually wins back a great deal of acceptance and regard from the townspeople over her seven years of wearing the badge of shame, and lives an upright life of near-solitude. Her daughter from her mating with Dimmesdale, Pearl, is an innocent chorus, asking questions or making observations that would be inconceivable from any adult.
Hawthorne tells this third person story within the bookends of a first person account: of being a Salem port surveyor (which Hawthorne really was) who finds the tantalizing embroidered fabric “A” in an old, dusty box in a disused room at the colonial customs house. The exposition goes on longer than I like, but he returns in the last few pages to tie a bow around the structure. We get a few paragraphs suggesting a peaceful ending for Hester and a glorious future for Pearl. If you can suspend your disbelief and accept the period assumptions, the book is brilliant!
The good things about reading compelling and well-constructed stories are the ideas, and the inspiration. The bad thing is the second thought: Who am I to think I can match Nathaniel Hawthorne?
I can’t help but think that if I told old Nate about Amy and Paul, he’d send me over the Mather’s church to be put in the stocks!