Vanity Fair, by William Makepeace Thackeray, was published in installments in 1847-8: the same year that saw the publication of Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte, and the year before David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens. All three authors were keenly aware of each other. Dickens was the undisputed master of English novelists; for a decade his novels had appeared in quick succession and had been wildly popular. Bronte idolized Thackeray, to whom she dedicated the second edition of Jane Eyre. Thackeray, trained as a critic and essayist, wrote in the serial form popularized by Dickens but in a very different style. Where Dickens was sentimental and even pedantic, Thackeray maintained a cool, ironic stance that both infuriated and delighted readers. Vanity Fair represented a new kind of novel in English. It was a book that portrayed human nature with all its weaknesses, yet did so against the backdrop of a high moral idealism. Subtitled, “A Novel Without a Hero,” Vanity Fair shows us our imperfections while quietly encouraging us to strive for something higher.
Becky Sharp, the aptly named “heroine” of Vanity Fair, is a surprising, entertaining, and rather unsettling character.
Of lowly birth, she is brought up at Miss Pinkerton’s fashionable boarding school where her father was once the drawing master. She hates the place, and particularly the snobbish Miss Pinkerton, and the narrative opens with her gleeful, bitter escape. (We could write an essay about the moment that Becky flings Johnson’s dictionary out the window as she goes; an ingenious symbol of her rejection of civilized society and its restrictions.) Vanity Fair may be a novel without a hero, but it has two heroines, for Becky has one friend at Pinkerton’s, her alter ego, Amelia Sedley. Sweet, timid, and demure, she is Becky’s polar opposite. It is the genius of Thackeray to bring these two characters into all sorts of trying situations where the reader may see their true characters revealed, and never truly to take the side of either. Becky is nearly always bad, though she has many endearing qualities. Amelia is nearly perfect, and rather irritating! Rather than offering us the standard fare of good characters in conflict with evil ones, Thackeray offers us a complex, realistic cast of people who struggle to choose right in a confusing world.
To further anchor his characters Thackeray places them against the backdrop of the Napoleonic Wars. His version of the historical novel is different from Tolstoy’s War and Peace, or Hugo’s Les Miserables, however. In those books the battles are gritty and realistically drawn, and the people are idealized, either good or evil. In Thackeray, the battles are largely ignored, history is merely touched upon, but the everyday struggles in the drawing room, in the nursery, the schoolroom, or at the dinner table, are shown to be where the real victories and defeats of life take place. Thus, though his story is placed in a historical setting, it would perhaps be more accurate to call Thackeray a moral realist, since ethical behavior is his chief concern. One quickly gets the impression that it matters little to Thackeray who wins the battle of Waterloo: what is important is whether George, the young soldier destined to fight and die there, will be faithful to his young wife on the eve of that battle. And the disastrous losses suffered by businessmen who speculated on that war are less important than whether George’s father, who profited thereby, will be merciful to those less fortunate than himself. Sometimes his characters succeed, and sometimes they fail, but Thackeray never blinks; we see the whole heart revealed in his masterful prose.
A fine example of this moral realism is the character of George Osbourne, the dashing soldier beloved by Amelia since girlhood. George is handsome but weak, charming but spoiled, and nearly abandons Amelia when her family’s financial ruin causes George’s father to turn against the match. The one, great, honorable character in the novel, George’s friend Dobbin, persuades him that he must go ahead with the marriage. George is constantly disappointing us, yet by showing him to us through the adoring Amelia’s eyes and the worshipful eyes of the other soldiers, we come to love George in spite of his weakness and mourn his loss. Only Becky sees him without sentimentality, as she sees everyone, just as they are and in terms of how they might benefit her schemes.
We all know a George Osbourne. We know an Amelia, a Becky, and if we are lucky, we may meet one or two men of Dobbin’s caliber in the course of our lives. Each character represents a type of person, and yet each character has an endearing individuality that renders them unforgettable. Thackeray has the knack of identifying his characters by certain material objects that surround them. Dobbin’s cloak, Amelia’s miniatures, and Becky’s special little box that hides her treasures and will contain the resolution of novel’s plot; these physical clues to inner character abound in Thackeray and are part of the pleasure of his style. For Thackeray, actions often speak louder than words: in a moment of crisis he may say little about how a character feels and instead shows what they do. Here, for example, is the scene where George’s father reacts to the news of his son’s marriage, a union he once promoted but now opposes for purely selfish reasons:
“He opened the book-case, and took down the great red Bible we have spoken of – a pompous book, seldom looked at, and shining all over with gold. There was a frontispiece to the volume, representing Abraham sacrificing Isaac. Here, according to custom, Osborne had recorded on the fly-leaf, and in his large clerk-like hand, the dates of his marriage and his wife’s death, and the births and Christian names of his children.. Taking a pen, he carefully obliterated George’s names from the page; and when the leaf was quite dry, restored the volume to the place from which he had moved it.” (p. 272)
Every phrase here is full of emotional information: from the gilded, seldom-read Bible, the reference to Abraham and Isaac (George is sacrificed, not on the altar of God through obedience, but on the altar of Mammon through pride) to his “clerk-like” hand, which reminds us that Osbourne Sr. is not a gentleman, but only a small man with a large amount of money. The crowning irony, of course, is that in his most evil moment this father takes his son’s name out of the Bible, (and by doing so ensures that his own name is struck from the Lamb’s Book of Life). Though Thackeray did not espouse religion, he was committed to the idea that the true mark of a “gentleman” was not birth or wealth, but integrity and morality. This notion of the true gentleman looms large in Vanity Fair. When young George Jr. comes to know his godfather, Major Dobbin, he realizes that Dobbin is in a different class from the fashionable, shallow people that surround him:
“He was a clever lad and afraid of the Major. George could not help admiring his friend’s simplicity, his good-humour, his various learning quietly imparted, his general love of truth and justice. He had met no such man as yet in the course of his experience, and he had an instinctive liking for a gentleman.” (713)
William Thackeray was born in India and, after losing his father at an early age, was sent back to England to school, where he was miserable and lonely. After his mother remarried and returned to England he was reunited with her, but spent most of his formative years in the often brutal English school system. Though possessed of an inheritance he squandered his means like the prodigal son, and eventually was forced to earn a living as a writer. Thus, he was able to observe both sides of the social scene; the privileged life of the gentleman and the scramble for existence faced by the average fellow. Becky Sharp, thrown on her own resources, is much like the young Thackeray. Her firm belief that she would have been a moral, upright woman if she had possessed five thousand pounds a year comes right out of a letter Thackeray once wrote to his mother about his own circumstances. Juxtaposed against this kind of cynicism was a deep idealism about human nature; Thackeray believed that people could be better than they were. William Lilly said that he found irony, but no cynicism in Thackeray; rather an appeal to the higher ideals within us. “To those sympathies, beliefs, instincts, I say, Thackeray ever appealed, to recall us from the worship of Mammon, the worship of rank, the worship of notoriety, to the worship of goodness, and truth and love.”(Wm. Samuel Lilly, Criticism and Interpretations, Harvard Classics Shelf of Fiction.)
Though he knew he wanted to write a long tale about the world of fashion and society, Thackeray could not think of an appropriate title for his first novel. One night it came to him, and he wrote to a friend that he jumped out of bed in excitement and ran around the room shouting, “Vanity Fair, Vanity Fair, Vanity Fair!” The title, of course, is taken from the verse in Ecclesiastes which reads, “Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.” (Eccles. 1:2) It was a title worth celebrating, for it cleverly refers not only to the vain nature of worldly things, but the entertaining, attractive nature of them. Yes, the world is vain, but it is fair, and it is also a fair, a roiling, exciting, fun place to be. G.K Chesterton said of the book that its principle character was the world. “It produces on the mind,” he said, “the same impression of mixed voices and almost maddening competition as a crowded square on market day” (G.K. Chesterton, Criticism and Interpretations, Harvard Shelf of Classics.) Thackeray loved entertainments of all sorts – gambling, the theater, good food and drink – and struggled to become a serious, responsible adult. His own life held many sorrows; chief among them the insanity of his wife Isabella, who grew more unstable with the birth of each child and was finally placed in a mental institution in 1844. In Vanity Fair we have Becky’s intelligence and energy juxtaposed upon Amelia’s virtue and passivity, yet we are never forced to choose between them. We are allowed to see how each suffers as a result of her failings and enjoys happiness as a result of good choices. Like we do, these characters feel envy, grief, lust, pride, sorrow and repentance. Thackeray brings us along, inserting himself jovially into the narrative now and then to comment on their trials and triumphs, and then retreating to allow us to form our own conclusions.
This is a wonderful book; funny, enlightening and ultimately uplifting. If you prefer sentimental stories, romance novels, and larger than life heroes, you might not like Vanity Fair. But if, like me, you rejoice in knowing fully-realized fictional characters that stay with you forever, and if you love to see the human heart mapped honestly and compassionately, you will find a masterpiece in Vanity Fair. As Carlyle said of Thackeray, “a beautiful vein of genius lay struggling about in him.” That genius is evident here, and I’ll be interested to hear your impressions of Becky Sharp and her companions.
Vanity Fair is the August selection of the Best Books Club. I welcome your comments on this or any other books you enjoy. Write me at Meridian, or log on to my website www.thebestbooksclub.com and join our mailing list. Our selection for September 2003 is Lost Horizon, by James Hilton.
* * * * *
In June I sent an email to the members of the Best Books Club inviting them to read Watership Down. Here are some of their responses:
Thanks for your review of Watership Down. You brought back many fond memories of the book to me. However, I have never been able to figure out why this is considered a children’s book. I was about 30 when I read it; my children have usually read it while in high school. They’re all bright, gifted writers themselves and have unanimously loved and treasured it, but I doubt if one would recommend it to a child younger than a teenager. And I’m not just talking about how much children miss reading something like the Narnia books–this is deep reading and most of that depth would be lost on young children.
Just a note about Richard Adams: Even though Watership Down portended wonderful things in the future from him, I have been extremely disappointed. I did enjoy Plague Dogs and Shardik, but they were certainly not in the same league as WD. The Girl in the Swing and Maia are progressively worse, with Maia being frankly pornographic. Soon after I returned Maia to the library 95% unread, I saw it for sale at Deseret Book. I have wondered if that was the start of the eventual decision to “censor” (or choose more prudently) the books that are sold there. So, beware of anything by him–look for a recommendation or review before you start. Anyway, happy reading to any who haven’t had the pleasure of Watership Down yet. Now there is a BOOK!
Nancy
—–
I believe we’ll read Little Women and Watership Down this summer. I was just telling one daughter about W.D. a few days ago – about what a brilliant author Richard Adams must be to create an entire language. Great picks, thank you.
Denise
—–
Your invitation conjures up an image of a tranquil summer afternoon slipping into dusk. The light is low and reaches like a magic hand with delicate golden fingers across the tiled deck of the pool to play with the tiny white hairs on my leg.
A cool breeze blows in from the coast and the temperature is perfect. I am floating on the expensive cushions of my favorite chair catching the tinkling spray of the ornate fountain.
The shade of our magnificent magnolia in lustrous white bloom hovers over me like a worried hen. I sip a cool drink – with no sugar, or calories of course — and breathe in pulsing rhythm to the crushing hands massaging my bare feet. I am without a worry in the world. I am consumed by my passion for Watership Down. I am transfixed by the words that rise from the page, dash into my eyes and play “catch me if you can” inside my head.
Wouldn’t I LOVE to be there?
Wouldn’t I LOVE to be with out distractions”
Wouldn’t I LOVE such peace of mind?
Maybe in the next life…
No — that’s too soon.
Like never in eternity.
Alas
Kieth Merrill
—–
I can hardly wait to share my comments with Best Books Club online. When I read Jim Trelease’s Read Aloud Handbook, it changed the way I looked at reading to children, and because I had young children at the time, changed my life. I recommend it to people all the time. I only regret not reading it earlier in my parenting career. I dread the time when I have no child to read with.
Patsy
—–
Actually I read your review in Meridian and thought it was excellent. I have seen the movie several times and it dawned on me that it would be excellent to read with my ten year old so, and so I got a great deal on a used hardbound from Amazon for about $9 total. Thanks for your review!
Harry
—–
Thank you for your referral. YES I have read and loved Watership Down. I also am a great fan of Vanity Fair. Both excellent books that many have not read. I am sure many will enjoy these novels – Funny you should say that book since I bought it a few months ago and haven’t started it yet……now I will……..
Judy
—–
Here is a comment from a concerned Mom who could use suggestions for High School Literature. I’ll print your responses in next month’s column:
Hi. I have finally reached an agreement with my son’s high school English department that we can ask for alternate assignments when a book is objectionable. They are even willing to let me (MOM!) pick the book.
Do you know of web sites where books are listed by theme? Such as: coming of age, relationships, etc. so I can match a book to the theme the teacher wants covered.
I would also be interested in high school literature lists from the 1950s or 1960s. Do you know of any of these.
Thank you for your help in raising Mormon teenage boys in the San Francisco/Bay Liberal area!
Marilyn W
Comments on our selection for May, Cry, the Beloved Country:
I loved Cry The Beloved Country and suggested it for my LDS book club about a year ago. But I was shocked at some of the responses to it when we met to discuss it! It was called a pathetically depressing book. “Look at how little has changed” they said. They hated it for the description of the city where they found the unwed daughter-in-law. They hated the fact that she left her child and returned to the city. On and on it went!
I on the other hand, remember so clearly when Steven returned and told his dear friend who met him on the road of what he had discovered. And how his friend told him of his testimony of Christ.
My Ideas for Books for the Next Six Months:
The Silver Chalice, by Thomas Costain
Skipping Christmas, by John Grisham
Persian Pickle Club, by Sandra Dallas
The Poisonwood Bible, by Barbara Kingsolver
Love your articles!
Jan
—–
Very much enjoyed your review of Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton. I read the novel several years ago while I was unemployed. My wife purchased a large print version at a yard sale for 25 cents. At the same sale, she also purchased another book by Paton entitled, For You Departed. I highly recommend this wonderful diary-like work, describing his anguish over losing his wife to cancer. It is excellent.
I also wish to make a comment about the Savior’s words, “Resist not evil.” An excellent commentary on the subject is a chapter in Emmett Fox’s enlightening book, The Sermon on the Mount.
Mike
