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4.0étoiles sur 5
Uncomplicated with cinematic appeal, Oct. 3 2002
The introduction to this paperback edition, by Peter Conn, (I always read introductions after I finish a book)- places WS in the pantheon of American letters. Of itself, it does not belong. But by its birthright, it does. It was James' last American novel, a product of his distinguished NY childhood. James fled the states for Europe soon after its publication. NY, he explained had too little social conflict and diversity, (how's that for irony.) Pre Civil War New York was, at least to the middle classes who make up the characters, a tranquil, unhurried and well- mannered, society. The same manners, from a glamorous, if not tragic slant were drawn in The Age of Innocence and other (to me) more intoxicating tales by his friend Edith Wharton. Hawthorne, we are told, was one of James' masters, his influence is felt in W.S. On its own, the story is middling. As an evocation of another time, without any real connection to what New York was soon to become, it lures the reader into a forgotten past. Any American lit student or NY city buff will cherish it for its august parentage. The plot lacks surprises or unexpected twists. It centers on the maneuverings of a gold digging scoundrel in pursuit of a plain and unsophisticated heiress. Her father, a self-made, well-off physician, adamantly and sadistically condemns the match- he is right about the man's motives, but his methods are cruel. The comic and sometimes despicable aunt, Lavinia, living completely on her brother's charity, is turned into a divisive fool, so enamored of Townsend, the fox, that she allows herself to be manipulated against her niece and brother. During a trip abroad, where father and daughter hoped to resolve the division, Lavinia opened the door to the doctor's own office, drinking the doc's finest wine and puffing his cigars, we see the true soul of the pretender as though looking into the future.
Of the main characters, only Catherine, the heiress is sympathetic, and more so as she displays her resolve and honor. The others are ensconced in their own past beliefs and devious plottings, reducing Catherine to a symbol, without life. Her father's position and the strength of his objections, after all, are based less on feelings for his daughter than his mortification that Morris Townsend, a rogue and layabout would live off his estate.
The story has appealed to stage writers and filmmakers since it was written 120 years ago. Catherine was played by Olivia de Haviland to Montgomery Clift's Townsend; directed by William Wyler in 1949. In 1997, it was made into a film again starring Jennifer Jason Leigh and Albert Finney as the doctor, Maggie Smith as Lavinia. With the strength of those players and the cinematographers to vivify the otherwise pale story, I can imagine the results would bear watching. NY, before the great migrations seems closer to the antebellum south than what it has so magnificently and tragically come to represent.
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de Vladimir Nabokov
