This is the sexiest novel of all time. You’re screwing up your face right now, I can tell. It is though, it’s sexy as fuck. People often want to tell you that Henry James’ greatest flaw was his lack of passion. Nabokov, if I recall correctly, labelled his work blonde. I don’t think he meant that in the way that modern readers would understand it i.e. as a synonym for dumb, but rather as one for bland. Katherine Mansfield once said of E.M. Forster that he was like a lukewarm teapot [ha!], and that description also seems to nicely sum up the prevailing attitude towards James. It’s wrong though, that attitude; I’ve read numerous Henry James novels and I am of the opinion that he was a firecracker, a sexual viper.Read the first 100 pages of Portrait of a Lady and then try and convince me that the male characters don’t all want to bash Isabel’s doors in; and that she, likewise, wants them to, or enjoys giving the impression that she wants them to. You won’t succeed. I’m serious. If you can’t see it then I conclude that you can’t recognise extreme sexual tension when it’s under your nose. The flirting is outrageous! You might think all this is cute, like 'oh [P]’s being theatrical.' I say again: I’m serious. It’s not as though I consider all so-called button-down and stuffy lit to be, in reality, hot shit; I mean, I’ve never claimed that Pride & Prejudice is really all about rimjobs and teabagging. There’s something about Henry James’ work, and this novel in particular, that seethes, writhes with unspoken frustration and desire. James’ art, the one thing that makes him stand out for me, is in how he somehow suggests, hints, implies but never outright tells you the juiciest bits of his story. It’s pretty magical really. I don’t know how to explain it; there’s a whole world beneath the surface of his work. In Portrait of a Lady I believe that world to be a sexual one. Why do all the male characters fall for Isabel? Because she is charming and pretty? Is she really all that? No, it’s because she gives the impression of being up for it; she’s, to put it more politely, sensual. She has great sex appeal, which is why she was not right for Lord Warburton, who is a bit of a sop and would make a conventional woman of her; by conventional I do not mean that he will not allow her to be herself, that he wishes to clip her emotional and intellectual wings, but that the match he is offering is conventional i.e. he is rich and handsome and terribly nice, and only a fool would turn him down.Some people say that Portrait of a Lady is about freedom, and I agree, it is. But I think that involves sexual freedom also, although, of course, as stated, that is not made explicit. There’s a lot written in the beginning of the novel about Isabel’s independent spirit, about how she does not want to be tied down. Before she takes up with Gilbert Osmond the novel is strongly feminist in tone. This is because Isabel regards marriage as an impediment to her freedom, she rejects marriage [literally, she receives two proposals early on] as a barrier to her gaining experience [what kind of experience, huh? Huh?] and knowledge of the world. However, I would argue [as I am sure many would argue to the contrary] that the second half of the book, and by extension the whole book obviously, is feminist, because Isabel makes her choice, the one to marry Osmond, freely. It does not matter that it may be a bad choice, the important thing is that she rejected more beneficial matches in favour of the one that most pleased her. In fact Isabel says at one stage ‘to judge wrong is more honourable than to not judge at all.’Isabel is one of the most fascinating characters I have ever encountered, because she is so extraordinarily complex, complex in a way that fictional people seldom are. She is strong-willed, arrogant, and yet thoroughly nice; she is perceptive and yet makes poor choices; she is warm and charming and yet sometimes stunningly cold. Indeed, her rejections of Lord Warburton are flawless examples of smiling iciness, of jovial dismissiveness. Isabel falls for Gilbert Osmond, to my mind, partly because he does not mindlessly adore her, does not fawn over her. He is mysterious, indolent; there is the hint of a darker side. He appears to be tired of everything, bored of everything, and so that he is interested in Isabel seems like a huge coup; it speaks to her ego. It’s pretty straightforward psychology to want most the thing that appears to be able to live without you with the least trouble. Isabel also credits herself with an original intelligence, therefore one could perhaps say that she likes Osmond, sees something great in him, precisely because others do not. However, the irony, the tragedy of their union is that Osmond is himself utterly conventional and tries to force Isabel to be so; Osmond, out of an anti-conventionality sentiment, demands that she be the most conventional wife.Madame Merle, who first earmarks Isabel for Osmond, is often regarded as one of literature’s great villains, which is not really the case, because James’ novels don’t contain true villains. Having said that, however, there is something vile about her, despite her never really doing anything to deserve the charge. It’s James’ great art again; he makes Madame Merle a masterpiece of quiet menace. 'You are dangerous,' the Countess Gemini declares, as they chat together about the prospect of Osmond and Isabel uniting, and you quite well believe it, even without the accompanying evidence. Her entrance into the novel, her unannounced [to Isabel] presence in the Touchett’s home is strangely chilling. She is first encountered, sat with her back to Isabel, playing the piano; she strikes you as almost girlish, initially, despite her age. It made me shudder, and I don’t think I can express why that is. Ralph describes his aversion to her as being due to her having no 'black specks', no faults, and one understands that what he means by this is that only bad people appear to be perfectly good.If Portrait of a Lady does not have a true villain, in the Dickensian sense of that word, it does at least have someone who it is very easy to hate [which is, of course, not quite the same thing]. As Isabel herself admits, Gilbert Osmond does not do a hell of a lot wrong – he does not beat her, for example – but there is certainly something disquieting about him, something not right. One only has to look to how he treats his daughter Pansy; he sees her as a kind of doll, one that is absolutely submissive to his will. She is entirely artless, which is interesting because Osmond approaches her like a work of art, as something that he has created, has formed out of his imagination; it is not a coincidence that Osmond is both an artist and a collector [he creates Pansy; he collects Isabel]. Pansy is, for me anyway, a little creepy; she is so in the way that dolls themselves are, in that they give the impression of being human, of being alive, and yet are lifeless. It is fair to say that while he may not be a wife-beater, Osmond’s attitudes towards women are suspect; he is a kind of passive-aggressive bully, a subtle misogynist.Amongst other things Portrait of a Lady is a classic bad marriage[s] novel. The earliest indication of this is the relationship between Isabel’s Aunt and Uncle; the Uncle lives in England, and the Aunt in Florence. What kind of a marriage is that? Then there is, of course, Isabel and Gilbert. Isabel, as stated, marries Osmond, I believe, because she thrills to think that such a man might pay court to her, might be interested in her, when he takes so little interest in the world at large; she finds his attitude heroic, and his interest in her, therefore, as a boon to her sense of self-worth. Osmond, on the other hand, sees in her something that will do him credit, both financially and socially. He appreciates her, for all that she will benefit him, rather than truly loves her. This appreciation does involve admiring certain qualities she possesses, but he wants those qualities to work on other people, not on himself; for himself he would like her to be another Pansy [i.e. entirely submissive] and appears to think he can train her to be so. He enters the marriage, in a way that a lot of people do even now, believing that he can smooth her rough edges, make her perfect for him, instead of accepting and cherishing what she is. Finally, there is the courting of Pansy by Rosier and Warburton; Warburton as a Lord is, obviously, favoured by the girl’s father, but Pansy does not love him, she loves Rosier. While I won’t give away the outcome of this little love triangle, what is most interesting about it is that it again raises the question of whether one should marry to make the best match, or for love; should one use one’s head or heart when making the decision? Isabel used her heart, and came a cropper, but perhaps that was still for the best; it is better to choose with your heart and fail, than to choose with your head and benefit from it.
10 Things I Love About Henry James’s The Portrait Of A Lady1. Isabel ArcherThe “lady” in the title. Beautiful, young, headstrong and spirited, the American woman visits her wealthy relatives in England, rejects marriage proposals by two worthy suitors, inherits a fortune and then is manipulated into marrying one of the most odious creatures on the planet, Gilbert Osmond. She’s utterly fascinating, and if I were back in university, I imagine having long conversations and arguments about her character. What does she want: Freedom? The ability to choose, even if it’s a bad choice? Is she a projection of James’s latent homosexuality? Is she a feminist or not? There are no simple answers. 2. The Prose and Psychological ComplexityDamn, James knew how to write long, luxuriant sentences that dig deep into his characters’ minds. Sometimes the effect can be claustrophobic – get me out of this person’s head! – but more often it’s utterly compelling and convincing. We partly read fiction to learn about other people’s lives, right? Well, James does that. (The exceptions: Isabel’s two wealthy, handsome suitors, Warburton and Goodwood, are less than believable, and remind me of eager (or horny?) dogs, their tails wagging whenever they’re around their love/lust object.)3. The StoryOkay, not much really happens. But as the book progressed, even though I sort of knew the outcome (it’s hard to avoid spoilers from a 135-year-old classic), I was increasingly curious to see how Isabel would act. In fact, I raced through the final chapters, breathlessly. Who knew: Henry James, page-turner! And have a theory about that ending? Take your turn...4. The HumourIt’s not a comedy, but there are lots of amusing bits. James’s narrator is genial and funny. Henrietta Stackpole, her gentleman friend, Mr. Bantling, and even Gilbert Osmond’s sister, the Countess Gemini, are all very colourful characters who elicit a chuckle or two. And Isabel’s aunt can be terribly cutting as well. I love Ralph (Isabel's cousin) and the dignified British Lord Warburton’s reactions to the enterprising, no-fuss American “lady journalist” Henrietta. 5. The SettingsEach one is significant: from the stately Gardencourt, home of Isabel’s relatives the Touchetts, to the bustle and anonymity of London, to the ruins of Rome, where Isabel finds herself stuck in a dead, fossilized marriage. James is a master at finding the right place to stage a scene. I could write an essay about interiors and exteriors in the book, but I’ll spare you.6. The VillainsMadame Merle and Gilbert Osmond: individually they’re sinister, but together they’re positively Machiavellian. In fact, in one scene, it’s revealed that they both like Machiavelli, and Isabel doesn’t get the clue! They totally play her. And yet they’re believable, too. Osmond’s scene in which he professes his love is brilliant in its manipulation; and the final turn of the screw (asking her to do him a favour!) is very clever. Madame Merle’s motivations always keep you guessing. Does she see herself in Isabel? Is she jealous? Does she just want to exert her power over her? The scene in which Isabel sees both in her home, conspiring (evident from their attitudes) is so powerful James refers to it a couple of times. And of course, it’s missing from the Jane Campion film (see below).7. The ThemesDoes money corrupt? What do you really know about someone before you marry? What is the true nature of freedom? What happens when New World (American) "innocence" meets Old World (European) "experience"? All these themes – and many others – come across naturally, and never feel shoe-horned into the story.8. The TechniqueI remember hearing people go on about the architecture of Henry James’s novels, and this one is sturdily, handsomely built. The book begins and ends in the same setting. And there are some ingenious sections in the middle, where time has passed and the reader discovers major information through conversations. Like any great writer, James knows what to leave out. He makes you do work to fill in the pieces, but the novel becomes more memorable because of that. And he bridges the Victorian and Modern eras, in the same way that Beethoven bridges the Classical and Romantic eras.9. Chapter 42After a huge blowup with Osmond, Isabel stays up all night, staring into the fireplace, and ponders her life, thinking: "How did I get here?" James considered it one of the best things he’d ever written, and although I haven’t read a lot of his work (which I will soon remedy), I’d have to agree. It’s right up there with Hamlet’s soliloquies.10. The Fact that the Book Doesn't Lend Itself Well To Adaptation A couple days after finishing the book, I watched the Campion film starring Nicole Kidman. Besides an evocative score and a brilliant performance by Barbara Hershey as Madame Merle and a suitably slimy one by John Malkovich (basically changing costumes from his Dangerous Liaisons character), it was dreadfully dull. There have been other James adaptations – The Wings Of The Dove, The Golden Bowl, The Bostonians – but none of these films has achieved the critical or popular success of an Age Of Innocence, Howards End or Room With A View. Maybe it's hard to get that psychological complexity onscreen? Read the books.***Conclusion: James is The Master. Up til now, I’d only read his shorter works, like the novellas “The Turn Of The Screw,” “Daisy Miller” (I still don’t quite know what killed her - sorry if that’s a spoiler) and “The Beast In The Jungle.” Now I’m eyeing his other major novels; perhaps I’ll even get through the notoriously difficult late period James. Can't wait to try!
What do You think about The Portrait Of A Lady (2003)?
*SPOILER ALERT* (Read at your own risk)My first time to read a book by Henry James.Reading The Portrait of a Lady, said to be his finest novel, is like getting your workout at a gym.After a day’s work you are tired. You are already zapped of energy. You feel like going to a bar and have a couple of beer listening to a funky live band or the crooning of a lovely young lady. Or you want to go to a nearby mall and sit in the comfort of a dark movie house. Probably sleep to rest for a couple of hours if the movie turns out to be boring.But you decide to go as you planned at the start of the day. Your gym bag is in your car. You drag your heavy feet to the parking lot. To the gym. You know you have to do it your friend has been telling you that Henry James is good but you imagine the taste of cold beer quenching your thirst or the soft seat inside the theater or the pretty songbird wearing a plunging neckline or showing her slim smooth legs there are quick reads waiting for you like Ray Bradbury’s Farenheit 451 or that Flowers for Argenon by Daniel Keyes. But you know your body needs exercise. You are becoming fatter, heavier and your waistline is expanding. You resisted the quick but empty lure of beer or sleep at the movie house. Your heart is telling you that Henry James is an author to read. Like a zombie, you continued sleepwalking to the gym.After changing to your gym attire. You step on the treadmill. The solitude of working out. In the gym, you rarely talk to anyone. Henry James used a style that was distinctively his: wordy yet illuminating You are by yourself. Most of your friends don’t care about Henry James. You begin to walk. Warm up. After a couple of minutes, you increase the speed. Chug. Chug. Chug. It goes on and on. His storytelling went on and on. His characters came from New York, to England, went to Paris, then to Rome and then went back to England and finally went back to Rome. After the treadmill, you lift some weights as you also need to tone some muscles. His characters were varied. There was Isabel Archer fighting for her independence by refusing marriage proposals like there was not tomorrow but in the end she found with the wrong man: conceited, two-timer, treacherous and condescending. Some muscles are not supposed to be exercised right after a neighboring one. They could be contradicting each other and not only you will not get the maximum benefit from your workout but you are in the danger of having an injury like some pulled muscles. Isabel’s cousin Ralph Touchett is the “conscience” of the novel, telling by instinct whether the person-character is good or bad. He is sick but he is the only character that has the purest heart.You came to the gym gloomy and dragged your feet as you did not have the energy even to go up a couple of stairs. Some people agonize reading this kind of 19th century Victorian English But when you came out to go back to your car, you felt energized and refreshed. You felt triumphant that Isabel Archer was going back to Rome for Pansy not necessarily for Oswald. But she decided whatever her heart was telling her. In the end, it was all that mattered: independence. She followed her heart: a personal triumph. In the end, you did not regret going to the gym. In the end, I am happy I read a Henry James.
—K.D. Absolutely
I sometimes worry that my Goodreads page will, if I’m not careful, turn into my personal Society for the Appreciation of Totally Mainstream, Not-At-All-Obscure, Dead European Man-Writers And Their Already-Leatherbound-and-Modern-Library-Canonized Works…but if my (mostly) chaste and (completely) non-ironic passion for Henry James is wrong, then I don’t want to be right. You don't need me to tell you about the finely distilled genius of this book - how the characters link and uncouple from scene to scene in something between a chess game and a dance; how it is the most perfect evocation of the different ways Americans take themselves through the world; the final paragraph - and I don't know if you could take my word for it anyway, because I think I'm a little obsessed. Oh Mr James - Henry? Hank? No. - we share so much! You loved writing books, I love the books you wrote. You were the consummate expatriate, and I am an expatriate right now! Henry James, I AM YOU.
—Ann
When I finished this book, I threw it down on the table in anger and walked away muttering. I guess we all want books to end like.. well, books! Not like real life. We have enough real life around us. Aren't books for escaping all that?Maybe. This book is probably a classic because it is complex enough to actually resemble the real world. People make mistakes. Small mistakes. Big mistakes. Life-changing mistakes. They also show a lot of spirit and charisma, which is also real. None of the characters are simplified into "good" or "evil" exactly. They're ... REAL. They have good points. They have bad points. They make you angry while you're reading so you want to slap them and tell them to "cut it out!!" But then you learn for them to find love and fulfillment and happiness. That's real life. It's not simple and easy to read like most books, with a happy or predictable ending. I HATED the ending because it left so many things unresolved.But, despite all that... I have to admit it was an amazing read.
—Juliana
