Byronic Heroines, and Other un-Victorian Thoughts
Let's start with another bank story. I've spent the last couple of days trying to get everything ready for my trip back home (countdown in another post) and needed a statement of accounts from the bank. I walked in, they directed me to someone. As I watched, he typed the details into a pre-filled form; then, at one point, came to a blank, where he asked, "Are you married?". Confused, I said no. He muttered, "Ok, " 'Miss', then." Luckily, he typed in Ms. (instead of Miss) so I didn't have to explicitly request it of him. I opened my mouth to speak, then bit my lip to keep from saying what was in my head: "So, I'm either Miss or Mrs., am I? This is 2010, for heck's sake! Even if you need to use a designation, the question is not 'Are you married?', and nor is it 'Miss or Mrs.?'; the question you should ask is, 'What title/designation do you want to use?' " I wish I could tell him that his question was a slur on this age, on people of my gender and - worse still - showed ignorance of basic modern-day etiquette.
Can't wait for another year to pass ... then (if all goes as planned), if I'm asked "Miss or Mrs.?" I can say "Neither. It's Dr."
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Most of us have had something to do with Byronic heroes. Maybe you read a book in which a character can be described that way, maybe you watched a movie, or, if you're fortunate (or otherwise, depending on how you look at it), you actually know someone colorful enough to answer to the description of a Byronic hero. A few "traditional" examples in literature: Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, Erik in The Phantom of the Opera, Edward Rochester in Jane Eyre; of course, we have modern examples too. What do you think of Francisco d'Anconia in Atlas Shrugged, or - better still, Leo in We, The Living?
I know the traditional 'Byronic hero' is a Victorian concept, and, from the little I've read, his female counterpart, the "Byronic heroine" was defined very differently. She is still perceived with respect to the male protagonist, she is still his object, even if the story is more about her than him. Now that we're in a more 'modern age', and (presumably) more people are writing about "true" heroines today, I think we can say that we've entered an age where the "true" Byronic heroine can exist as the exact female counterpart of the Byronic hero. I was trying to think of a few "true" Byronic heroines in 'real' literature but I'm blanking out. It doesn't help that I read a lot more Victorian and pre-Victorian works than modern works. I did consider Dagny Taggart (obvious, if I've already mentioned d'Anconia), or Dominique Francon in The Fountainhead; but I'm not sure Ayn Rand ever intended them to truly stand in their own rights as women. From her concept of "man-worship", it seems as though she always intended to objectify them (at least to some extent) to suit their male counterparts. What a pity.
Well, I'll give it some more time, I'm sure I know more than a few, I just need to dig them out from the dark recesses of memory and imagination. In any case, if art imitates life, there are a lot many more "real" Byronic heroines in the world today than are talked about ... yet.
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Talking of Byronic heroes, I received such a surprise when I recently saw BBC's 2006 version of Jane Eyre. I expected to criticise it all the way through, but I was forced to concede that it is well-made. There are a few deviations from the story, of course, and some of the dialogue in the book is (regrettably) sacrificed for lack of time, leading to minor defects in continuity, but the actors themselves were very well-selected, and have done a great job! Just so I wasn't biased (unlikely but not impossible, it's called the Toby Stephens effect and it features, along with the rest of the package, his magical voice and diction), I also saw a couple of other versions (the 1983 TV series and the 1996 movie). The little I saw of those adaptations seemed more correct in terms of dialogue and adhesion to the story, but I found the main character insipid and very Victorian (not good, if you consider that Charlotte Bronte wasn't entirely Victorian in thought), and the heroes emoting with words, not their senses; I actually found my mind wandering - and in adaptations of a Victorian novel!
In some way, I was also surprised at myself. I'm usually the faithful 'stickler' to storylines in movie (or TV) adaptations. Fi hates going for adapted movies with me, because I ruin all his enjoyment in it with my "Hey, this isn't in the book!" I know that they need to keep some stuff out for lack of time, but I generally hate it when they introduce elements that 'aren't there'. This time it was different. For some reason, I was able to understand the director's point of view better, and understand her need to express herself that way. It's not just because her viewpoint coincided on the important aspects with my own; I think it is also due to my own increasing tolerance for another viewpoint. Seeing her viewpoint did not negate or efface my previous standpoint on the book; rather, it helped me to gain another perspective that I was not necessarily aware of. I learnt something different, and that's always good. For example, the art direction uses red to symbolize the feelings of both Jane and her antithesis: the red sash around Jane's neck (a symbol of passionate bondage? a noose around her neck? a symbol of her desire?) versus the red cloth at the window (unfurled, simply present, or absent - the state of mind of the captive wife upstairs?) at different times in the series speak of the different comparative "points" chalked up by the 'rivals' in love. The red sash appears around Jane's neck the morning after she "rescues" her master from the fire (the first moment of passion), and disappears when Jane leaves Thornfield the night after her almost-wedding. As she departs, she sees the red cloth flying triumphantly at the window of Mrs. Rochester. What a telling moment!
===================================
Now, back to the real world. *Sigh*.
Can't wait for another year to pass ... then (if all goes as planned), if I'm asked "Miss or Mrs.?" I can say "Neither. It's Dr."
===================================
Most of us have had something to do with Byronic heroes. Maybe you read a book in which a character can be described that way, maybe you watched a movie, or, if you're fortunate (or otherwise, depending on how you look at it), you actually know someone colorful enough to answer to the description of a Byronic hero. A few "traditional" examples in literature: Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights, Erik in The Phantom of the Opera, Edward Rochester in Jane Eyre; of course, we have modern examples too. What do you think of Francisco d'Anconia in Atlas Shrugged, or - better still, Leo in We, The Living?
I know the traditional 'Byronic hero' is a Victorian concept, and, from the little I've read, his female counterpart, the "Byronic heroine" was defined very differently. She is still perceived with respect to the male protagonist, she is still his object, even if the story is more about her than him. Now that we're in a more 'modern age', and (presumably) more people are writing about "true" heroines today, I think we can say that we've entered an age where the "true" Byronic heroine can exist as the exact female counterpart of the Byronic hero. I was trying to think of a few "true" Byronic heroines in 'real' literature but I'm blanking out. It doesn't help that I read a lot more Victorian and pre-Victorian works than modern works. I did consider Dagny Taggart (obvious, if I've already mentioned d'Anconia), or Dominique Francon in The Fountainhead; but I'm not sure Ayn Rand ever intended them to truly stand in their own rights as women. From her concept of "man-worship", it seems as though she always intended to objectify them (at least to some extent) to suit their male counterparts. What a pity.
Well, I'll give it some more time, I'm sure I know more than a few, I just need to dig them out from the dark recesses of memory and imagination. In any case, if art imitates life, there are a lot many more "real" Byronic heroines in the world today than are talked about ... yet.
===================================
Talking of Byronic heroes, I received such a surprise when I recently saw BBC's 2006 version of Jane Eyre. I expected to criticise it all the way through, but I was forced to concede that it is well-made. There are a few deviations from the story, of course, and some of the dialogue in the book is (regrettably) sacrificed for lack of time, leading to minor defects in continuity, but the actors themselves were very well-selected, and have done a great job! Just so I wasn't biased (unlikely but not impossible, it's called the Toby Stephens effect and it features, along with the rest of the package, his magical voice and diction), I also saw a couple of other versions (the 1983 TV series and the 1996 movie). The little I saw of those adaptations seemed more correct in terms of dialogue and adhesion to the story, but I found the main character insipid and very Victorian (not good, if you consider that Charlotte Bronte wasn't entirely Victorian in thought), and the heroes emoting with words, not their senses; I actually found my mind wandering - and in adaptations of a Victorian novel!
In some way, I was also surprised at myself. I'm usually the faithful 'stickler' to storylines in movie (or TV) adaptations. Fi hates going for adapted movies with me, because I ruin all his enjoyment in it with my "Hey, this isn't in the book!" I know that they need to keep some stuff out for lack of time, but I generally hate it when they introduce elements that 'aren't there'. This time it was different. For some reason, I was able to understand the director's point of view better, and understand her need to express herself that way. It's not just because her viewpoint coincided on the important aspects with my own; I think it is also due to my own increasing tolerance for another viewpoint. Seeing her viewpoint did not negate or efface my previous standpoint on the book; rather, it helped me to gain another perspective that I was not necessarily aware of. I learnt something different, and that's always good. For example, the art direction uses red to symbolize the feelings of both Jane and her antithesis: the red sash around Jane's neck (a symbol of passionate bondage? a noose around her neck? a symbol of her desire?) versus the red cloth at the window (unfurled, simply present, or absent - the state of mind of the captive wife upstairs?) at different times in the series speak of the different comparative "points" chalked up by the 'rivals' in love. The red sash appears around Jane's neck the morning after she "rescues" her master from the fire (the first moment of passion), and disappears when Jane leaves Thornfield the night after her almost-wedding. As she departs, she sees the red cloth flying triumphantly at the window of Mrs. Rochester. What a telling moment!
===================================
Now, back to the real world. *Sigh*.
posted by Summer Showers at
9:13 PM
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