Wilkie Collins

I’m rather puzzled about how I missed out on Wilkie Collins until I turned 40.

A contemporary, friend, and protege of Dickens, Collins (who is not, as far as I can tell, related to Bootsy Collins) can apparently be described as “opium-addled, but good.” I’ve only read (listened to, actually) The Woman in White and The Moonstone, but I’ve been enthralled by both.

His writing is painfully aware of the social pressures in play in its Victorian settings. I’m more accustomed to the interests of the Jane Austen and Thomas Hardy novels; Austen’s are concerned primarily with the dealings of gentlemen and gentlewomen with each other, while Hardy’s characters tend to be of an earthier place and station.

Collins likes to draw from a wide spectrum of society. Both TWiW and TM are epistolary novels; the included letters give voice to a remarkably wide range of characters, not just in character and manners, but in social station and significance.

The most maddening stretch of TM for me was the chunk of chapters allocated to Miss Clack, as misguided and unreachable a religious zealot as you’ll ever encounter. Collins nails the self-certain, falsely righteous mentality, and stretches her part of the tale on for what seemed like an interminable time. Perhaps another person would find her amusing, but she’s my worst nightmare.

(A side note: The recording I was listening to was very difficult to enjoy during this span as well, due to incessant mispronunciation. Librivox.org charms, and librivox.org goads, blessed be the name of librivox.org.)

There’s another recording nearly complete, this time of Armadale. I’ll check back in after I’ve checked that, uh, out.