The French Lieutenant's Woman [Paperback]

 

 

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The French Lieutenant's Woman is a Victorian novel by a modern author - the revered John Fowles. The novel concerns a love triangle between a young man on an income, his fiancé, and the mysterious and independent Sarah.

Throughout the novel, Fowles takes numerous opportunities to speak directly to the reader in asides that describe the process of writing fiction from an author's perspective. Fowles also speaks directly to the reader to provide some historical information about the Victorians and their age. These asides are enjoyable and make the characters seem less removed from our own time.

One quibble: the final resolution of the plot was a bit stilted (the characters basically stand up and explain themselves) and not very satisfying. I'm still not sure I fully understand Sarah's motives. The rest of this novel is very well done, though.

In the first hundred pages of this book I had already begun to realize that this was one of the best books I have ever read. That feeling never let up; indeed, it grew even stronger as I approached the end, when I began to feel a frantic eagerness to discover what would become of these characters that I had grown to care so much for.

Sarah Woodruff (aka the French Lieutenant's Woman) is one of my favorite characters in literature. She is a complex, nuanced character, intriguingly covered by a delicate veil of mystery throughout the first half of the book. Her pain, her selfless sacrifice, and her courage are deeply and powerfully drawn. She is a true example of a woman ahead of her time, a woman who challenges the norms of her society by simply ignoring them. Her confidence and her quiet scorn for the Puritanism of the times in which she lives raise her to a level above the so-called moral leaders who condemn her. In a strange way, she is a true hero.

This book, written in the late 1960s but set one hundred years earlier, is a beautiful example of period literature. Fowles, through his remarkably genuine narrative voice, recreates the world of Victorian England in such a way that if it weren't for the occasional references to modern life you might think the book was a century older than it is. It is filled with all the pomp and formality you would expect, but also with a wit, dry humor, and quiet mocking of the period that lend it an added flavor.

But Fowles is not simply trying to create a period piece or social commentary. I believe that first and foremost he was creating a love story. I would put Charles and Sarah in the same category with Romeo and Juliet as far as love stories go. The relationship is developed slowly, so slow that it is exquisitely painful almost. And though the time they spend together is brief, it is filled with an unmistakable air of eventual tragedy.

The only question left in my mind is whether to categorize this book as a classic of modern fiction or of 19th century fiction. It could easily stand in either section of my bookshelf.

Alternate endings, authorial interjections, primary source documents, epigraphs; just a few techniques John Fowles uses to turn his Darwinian novel, The French Lieutenant's Woman, into a unique resurrection of classic Victorian literature. With all of the literary devices that Fowles employs in his novel to make it-according to one reviewer-"so utterly compelling," it comes as no surprise that this novel does not adapt easily to the screen. In fact, the screenwriter, Harold Pinter, completely disregards the true intended nature of the aforementioned rhetorical strategies in his adaptation of the novel.
Instead of portraying these essential elements as Fowles wrote them, Pinter creates a "movie within a movie" by constructing a passionate affair that the actors portraying Sarah and Charles involve themselves in while filming the screen version of Fowles' novel. He then cleverly weaves the two stories-one taking place in the 1860s and '70s, the other in the late-1970s/early-1980s-in and out of each other. He does so in order to give the audience a sense of the comparing of times that Fowles produces by interjecting 1960s views-on subjects including politics, religion, and social customs-in the classic style of the Victorian novel. Pinter sees this as an opportunity to use both of the novels endings, as well-the "happy" ending for the screen lovers, and the more realistic for the "real" lovers. Despite the deliberate effort to make the endings seem as genuine as possible, the do not invoke in the audience the "Mystery of the True Ending" that the novel does. And by utilizing the double-romance technique, Pinter falls prey to time constraints.
Pinter realizes that he must sacrifice plot developments and some of the other devices that make this Fowles novel unique. For example, Pinter discards of Fowles' use of the epigraphs and primary documents (including case reports) that give The French Lieutenant's Woman its Darwinian flair. Again, Pinter hopes to achieve this sense of evolution and historicism by comparing the Victorian love story with the modern one, but for anyone that has read the novel, the film just seems to lack that "something." Pinter also cuts what many readers consider key plot points from the story. This makes grasping character motivations very difficult, despite the obvious attention to detail given to keeping the dialogue consistent with that in the novel. For example, not a single frame of the film mentions Charles' uncle and the fact that Charles will no longer inherit his uncle's estate. Nor does the film address the lengths to which Sam goes to try to ensure his and his soon-to-be-bride's financial security. Without Fowles' rhetorical ingenuity and sub-plots that reveal characters' drive, the film slips further into the pattern of slaughtering the makeup of the author's creative skill.
Surely anyone who's read the book will most likely concede that they would rather adapt virtually any other book for the silver screen than The French Lieutenant's Woman. John Fowles' narration technique, designed to involve the audience in the story by speaking directly to them, and the infamous alternate endings present the most difficult aspects of the novel to overcome in the rewriting process. Surely there must exist a better way to show these aspects of the novel than the way that Pinter ultimately released it. Perhaps a narrator or even Shakespearian-inspired, one-man chorus could narrate the film in a truly Darwinian fashion, making it almost seem like a romantic documentary. Therefore, it would not seem absurd to include some of Fowles' side comments, and the narrator could then even plug in a few epigraphs or primary document excerpts. The problem of the alternate endings would then also be solved: the narrator would present them as John Fowles does in the novel. Obviously this version of the film would last longer than the two hours that Pinter's version fills, but without the second, parallel love story, the new version would occupy less time than one might think. Even so, this new longer, documentary-like version would probably not reap the same fiscal benefits that the 1981 blockbuster did, but at least the film would uphold the integrity of Fowles' novel.
Despite paltry attempts to portray Fowles' literary flair on screen, the film version of The French Lieutenant's Woman comes off as nothing more than a summary of the dominant plotline with a few glimpses into the lives of people that readers of the book have no acquaintance with. Do not misconceive this, however, as a complete bashing of the film. In deed, the film portrays Lyme Regis in an extremely visually stimulating manner, having been shot on location. And the cast, including Jeremy Irons and Meryl Streep, did an outstanding job playing the well-dialogued characters that, due to unfortunate adaptation circumstances, had very little motivation to guide them. But what does exemplary acting and an aesthetically pleasing setting matter if no one makes an effort to uphold the artistic integrity of the piece that inspired the film? The novel's authorial interjections, alternate ending, epigraphs and primary source documents give the novel its reverence in the literary world. Without them, the film completely fails to capture the essence of the novel, no matter how well it portrays the dialogue and visual aesthetics of the book.

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2.0 out of 5 stars not worth my time
Although some of the imagery and reminders of a bygone era were nice, I found this book rather annoying. Read more

Published on Jun 15 2004 by L. Bouchet

5.0 out of 5 stars Haunting story that is tragic and beautiful
I have 4 different copies of this book. Fowles is really a literary giant when compared with many writers today. Read more

Published on Jan 14 2004 by Justin Elswick

1.0 out of 5 stars worst book classified as "literature" ever
utterly boring. do yourself a favor and read anything else.

Published on Dec 19 2003

2.0 out of 5 stars irritating
This is certainly a parody of victorian pomposity, and made me detest every character Fowles throws at you. The writing style is excessively pompous and hard to follow. Read more

Published on Nov 22 2003

5.0 out of 5 stars Fowles' most artful, enigmatic tale
The French Lieutenant's Woman is a Victorian-style novel that deals with 20th Century issues. Charles Smithson falls in love with the mysterious Sarah Woodruff, a woman who has... Read more

Published on Aug 18 2003 by Peggy Vincent

5.0 out of 5 stars Living in the Moment
This novel is at once a retrospective and a prospective, a narrative that ultimately erases the temporal boundaries between the Victorian era and the modern reader's present... Read more

Published on May 26 2003 by Samuel Chell

5.0 out of 5 stars As clearly a masterpiece today as when it was published
John Fowles' "The French Lieutenant's Woman" is not only a masterpiece, it's an UNUSUAL masterpiece. Read more

Published on Aug 21 2002 by Catherine S. Vodrey

5.0 out of 5 stars amazing literature
This novel is a masterpiece in the craft of writing. Fowles combines science, romance, and literary beauty into one novel. Read more

Published on Jun 13 2002

5.0 out of 5 stars Post-modern needn't mean archly stupid
What to make of a Victorian novel by a contemporary existentialist who steps into the book twice and can't decide how to end it? Read more

Published on May 10 2002 by Mick McAllister

4.0 out of 5 stars The Victorian Era read by the late '60s
When I started reading The French Lt's Woman, i was expecting some very sad, tragic and hard to follow, but what I got is quite the opposite: the book gives you good laughs... Read more

Published on Nov 22 2001 by Alysson Oliveira

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