I’ve never read any Trollope before, but my book group likes to mix things up, so here we are. This was a real surprise to me. It was published in 1855 and my previous dabblings in that era have left me less than enthusiastic. Overly wordy, sentimental, turgid and a real slog to get through – that was what I expected. What I got was funny, sharply observed, sympathetic and surprising easy to read.
I have to say, though, that I’ve never read a book with so many words where so little actually happens. Much of the body of the text is made up of lovely commentary on the characters, their histories, quirks and motivations, together with the author’s opinions on the church, the newspaper industry and the legal profession. Some of that is interesting, but some is also very repetitive and long-winded, and could have been scrapped without any loss at all.
The plot revolves around doing the right thing. Is it acceptable to follow a course that is morally correct but might harm people one is fond of? What happens if one person’s view of moral correctness differs from that of other respected people? But mostly, it’s about the characters being driven to do what feels right to them even though the consequences may be disadvantageous to those around them or even to themselves. Everyone who plays a part sincerely believes that their actions are the only proper course, from the reformer who triggers the story to the bedesmen, the warden himself, the archdeacon, the daughter, the newspaperman and the barrister.
The ending is fairly predictable, with almost everyone worse off than they were before, but the author’s lightness of touch makes it more of a comedy than a tragedy. The characters make the book, and I enjoyed the read, but there’s enough Victorian caricature combined with wordiness to keep it to three stars.