If you're ever in the mood for immersing yourself in a great big and wholly absorbing Victorian novel, you should definitely consider The Old Wives Tale. But just remember one thing -- this one was published in 1907, six years after Victoria's death, so really it is a great big and wholly absorbing Edwardian novel, though it takes place in the second half of the nineteenth century. Are you with me so far?
Apparently Arnold Bennett got the idea for the novel from seeing a rather fat elderly woman in a restaurant and realising that she must once have been young and beautiful -- which led him to think about peoples' lives, and the changes they undergo both physically and psychologically. So he wrote this, which is the story of two sisters, Constance and Sophia. Teenagers when the novel begins, their lives are meticulously followed until their deaths in their sixties.
If this doesn't sound wildly interesting, think again. The two girls are the daughters of a successful draper in the town of Bursley, one of the Five Towns that comprise the Potteries of middle England. Middle England, middle class, middle of the nineteenth century -- could this be significant? Their lives have always revolved around the shop, run by their mother since their father's stroke confined him to his bed, and it's always been assumed that they will follow their parents into the business. And so, indeed, will Constance do, becoming, as she ages, not a replica of her mother but as close as makes not difference. Sophia, though, is a rebel. Beautiful and passionate, she falls for the dubious charms of a visiting salesman, and before too long she has eloped with him and ended up living in Paris on his rapidly dwindling inheritance.
However much their lives diverge, and diverge they very much do, with Constance staying in the house she was born in while Sophia lives through the Siege of Paris and other shocking and disastrous events, what is interesting is how their basic principles remain remarkably similar. Sophia's strict upbringing, once thrown overboard when she runs away with the dreadfully untrustworthy Gerald, sees her in good stead when she ends up alone and sets up what becomes one of Paris's most successful small hotels. I found Sophia's life more interesting, and it's certainly more dramatic -- the scene when Gerald forces her to go with him to witness a public execution is stunning, and her struggles to survive after his departure are wonderfully gripping. But Constance in her small and circumscribed world also has many domestic tragedies to deal with, including the fact that her adored only child Cyril, a rather mediocre painter living in London, neglects her shamefully. And though so much more restrained that Sophia, she suffers at least as deeply.
