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feather_ghyll) wrote2015-02-18 08:53 pm
feather_ghyll) wrote2015-02-18 08:53 pm
REVIEW: Our Bessie
Our Bessie: Rosa N. Carey 1913? The Religious Tract Society
This book doesn’t have a subtitle, but ‘Virtue Rewarded’ wouldn’t be a bad one.
Bessie is the eldest daughter and her ‘mother’s crutch’, her mother having become weaker since the death of a son. One of her younger sisters, Hattie, suffers from a physical ailment that also affects her mental health and she particularly turns to Bessie for support too.
The story begins with Bessie meeting one Edna Sefton when their train is briefly snowbound. In a coincidental twist, Edna’s mother was once engaged to Dr Lambert, Bessie’s father, but threw him over because of his lack of prospects. He found love again with a much worthier woman, while his ex-fiancee married a wealthier man, who wasn’t all he could be. Edna is flighty and self-willed, but attracted by Bessie’s cheerful goodness and a friendship is established between them.
This leads eventually to Bessie being invited to stay with the Seftons at Oatlands, where she finds out that Mrs Sefton is gracious to all but her stepson, the young master of the house. Edna follows her mother in undervaluing Richard, whom Mrs Sefton has never forgiven for being shy and awkward as a boy and a secret that her husband kept from her. Bessie is the first guest at the Grange to treat him with consideration, and you can see where that’s going – one deprived of the loving upbringing that Bessie’s childhood and girlhood have been rich in.
But, at home, things have gone badly, with Hatty sickening just as her father always feared she might. Bessie is sent for, which means leaving the Seftons in disarray, because Edna broke up with her fiancée out of temper with him for having the temerity to be right.
Don’t worry, I said the subtitle should be ‘Virtue Rewarded’. Although there are references to childhood rebellions –rather dauntingly, Bessie’s mother had a habit of talking with each of her children at the eve of their birthday about their failings with the aim of encouraging them to make a fresh start in the next year of their life – Bessie seems to have come to a sincere faith. It has affected how she views life; she is something of a paragon.
Initially, I was pleased that by having the author play narrator, rather than pretending to be an older version of the heroine, she got less in the way of the story than was the case in Esther Cameron’s Girlhood, reviewed here, but there is...if not sermonising, a definite attempt to improve young minds. Though I disagreed with some of Carey’s strictures, I don’t argue with the serious concern with how we live our lives, nor can you quibble with the message that character is worth more than status.
Apart from the coincidence of Bessie and Edna crossing paths, and a later serendipitous meeting, there are one or two clunky moments plotwise, such as when the doctor confides in Bessie that Mr Sefton asked his wife, on his deathbed, to be kinder to his son – how on earth would Dr Lambert know that? But I found myself huffing with vexation at having to put the book away because I’d reached my train station and was eager to pick the book back up as soon as possible. Admittedly, this was right at the most dramatic event in the book. It was also fun to see that nineteenth century sons were sure that they knew better than their fuddy-duddy fathers. Admittedly, Dr Lambert comes across as a benevolent dictator, but objectively, he probably did know more about health than his son, even if he was obsessed with good digestion.
This book doesn’t have a subtitle, but ‘Virtue Rewarded’ wouldn’t be a bad one.
Bessie is the eldest daughter and her ‘mother’s crutch’, her mother having become weaker since the death of a son. One of her younger sisters, Hattie, suffers from a physical ailment that also affects her mental health and she particularly turns to Bessie for support too.
The story begins with Bessie meeting one Edna Sefton when their train is briefly snowbound. In a coincidental twist, Edna’s mother was once engaged to Dr Lambert, Bessie’s father, but threw him over because of his lack of prospects. He found love again with a much worthier woman, while his ex-fiancee married a wealthier man, who wasn’t all he could be. Edna is flighty and self-willed, but attracted by Bessie’s cheerful goodness and a friendship is established between them.
This leads eventually to Bessie being invited to stay with the Seftons at Oatlands, where she finds out that Mrs Sefton is gracious to all but her stepson, the young master of the house. Edna follows her mother in undervaluing Richard, whom Mrs Sefton has never forgiven for being shy and awkward as a boy and a secret that her husband kept from her. Bessie is the first guest at the Grange to treat him with consideration, and you can see where that’s going – one deprived of the loving upbringing that Bessie’s childhood and girlhood have been rich in.
But, at home, things have gone badly, with Hatty sickening just as her father always feared she might. Bessie is sent for, which means leaving the Seftons in disarray, because Edna broke up with her fiancée out of temper with him for having the temerity to be right.
Don’t worry, I said the subtitle should be ‘Virtue Rewarded’. Although there are references to childhood rebellions –rather dauntingly, Bessie’s mother had a habit of talking with each of her children at the eve of their birthday about their failings with the aim of encouraging them to make a fresh start in the next year of their life – Bessie seems to have come to a sincere faith. It has affected how she views life; she is something of a paragon.
Initially, I was pleased that by having the author play narrator, rather than pretending to be an older version of the heroine, she got less in the way of the story than was the case in Esther Cameron’s Girlhood, reviewed here, but there is...if not sermonising, a definite attempt to improve young minds. Though I disagreed with some of Carey’s strictures, I don’t argue with the serious concern with how we live our lives, nor can you quibble with the message that character is worth more than status.
Apart from the coincidence of Bessie and Edna crossing paths, and a later serendipitous meeting, there are one or two clunky moments plotwise, such as when the doctor confides in Bessie that Mr Sefton asked his wife, on his deathbed, to be kinder to his son – how on earth would Dr Lambert know that? But I found myself huffing with vexation at having to put the book away because I’d reached my train station and was eager to pick the book back up as soon as possible. Admittedly, this was right at the most dramatic event in the book. It was also fun to see that nineteenth century sons were sure that they knew better than their fuddy-duddy fathers. Admittedly, Dr Lambert comes across as a benevolent dictator, but objectively, he probably did know more about health than his son, even if he was obsessed with good digestion.