My Personal Response
Tegan Phillips
When I first discovered that this novel was of similar proportions to the Bible, I was unsure of whether to be excited or overwhelmed, and ended up being a mixture of both. However, as the term progressed, and I did not, my attitude changed a fair amount, and I thought myself an idiot for choosing such a (for me) difficult book. As the main character himself, on the subject of authorship, declares “Its work enough to read (novels) sometimes”. However, with days to spare, I did indeed finish this delightful piece of work, and was especially satisfied with the ending.
One of the advantages of the length of this book was that the characters had the chance to become so well developed in my mind, that each one is now real to me as any other living person. This is also due to the very descriptive style of writing. I felt myself grow very close to Miss Betsy Trotwood, and was in complete admiration of her, even from the beginning of the novel when she beats the doctor when he announces that Miss Copperfield has not given birth to a girl. This complete rebellion of the norms of Victorian society turned her into something of an idol in my eyes, despite my feeling sorry for the rejected David. Her complete faith in Mr Dick, who would otherwise have been sent to a madhouse, is another indication of her total disregard for the opinions of others. I only wish her and Mr Dick had, in the end, been married.
I also grew very fond of Agnes, and knew from the beginning (as, I suppose, I was intended to) of her love for David. This made me dislike Dora, and was filled with secret ecstasy when she died, so that David could finally come to his senses. David’s description of the angelic Agnes was so vivid, that I often find myself asking What Agnes would do in this situation. Before, I used to dislike the name Agnes, but now it resounds with gentleness and purity.
This novel, although written in the same era as the three I studied last year, differed from them in a variety if ways. Firstly, it did not focus on women, which I rather missed, hence my attachment to Betsy Trotwood. It also did not focus on the upper
class, and there were no descriptions of wild parties/balls, which I also missed. I did, however, enjoy the way Dickens integrated the classes, in the novels, for example Pegotty and her family, who are of a poor working class, were considered almost as equals amongst the relatively wealthy David and his friends. Even Steerforth dared to act on his feelings for Emily, who was of his class. This was also the first novel (out of the four) to refer to prison, which was particularly interesting, especially when comparing it to modern prisons.
Human nature was captured so effectively in the novel that I often forgot it was written about two centuries ago. The way David falls so hard and often for a variety of women was all to similar to the way in which people fall in love today. He even talks about high school romances, which was definitely not mentioned in the other novels, and I was surprised by how similar this was to the romantic encounters of my friends or I.
Finally, I was pleased to find that this was Dickens’ most autobiographical work, as I gave recently become interested in autobiographies. It made the story, in my mind, even more real, and therefore even more interesting.
Despite my original resentment of this novel, I grew very fond of it (particularly when all the original characters began to reappear about halfway through the novel, and
I realised their purpose was to contribute to the storyline and not simply lengthen the book). It has been the ideal introduction to Charles Dickens, and leaves me looking forward to his arguably most famous work, Great Expectations.
Saturday
My personal response
Georgina Selander
Ian McEwan’s Saturday is a novel that explores the concerns of 21st Century living. These matters are accessed through the perspective of Henry Perowne, a neurosurgeon living in England. His inability to grapple with the uncertainty, chaos, heightened state of terror and constant development of contemporary living is proposed throughout the novel and are universal concerns that are divulged in the prologue. Although we are drawn into the solitary consciousness of Perowne, we find ourselves identifying with the sense of worldwide insecurity and stability that has lingered since 9/11 and that McEwan masterfully encapsulates from the first page.
The prologue begins with a question that immediately throughout Saturday. It then goes on to highlight modern man’s difficulty in coping with today’s urban environment and with change. Perowne struggles with the transformations of the modern world but ironically whilst he longs for an old-fashioned “verdant, horse-drawn, affectionate England”, we see how in his work, he is technologically-dependant; using the “latest equipment” to perform his procedures. Perowne also admits, with reference to the revisions on the ‘Emergency Plan’, that there’s always a “new look”. This parallels present beliefs that it is difficult rearing on impossible, to maintain a simplistic lifestyle amidst an industrialising and advancing environment.
Perowne’s reluctance to change is addressed by his difficulty in coping with his children’s receding dependence. His son, Theo, is an aspiring musician whilst his daughter, Daisy, is a writer of amorous, bordering on erotic poetry. Added to his subtle opposition to their unpredictable career choices, he must accept their dwindling reliance that recedes “like a hand slipping away”.
Another idea put forth in the prologue is the elevated state of terror that we find controlling our lives and the “tremendous controls” and “mundane embattlement” to subject ourselves to in an attempt to protect ourselves from “the poor, the drug addicted and the downright bad”. McEwan addresses the fact that our lives have quickly become shaped by our acute state of fear, by our constant sense of peril that ensures that “airlines look different in the sky these days, predatory or doomed” post 9/11.
“Transformed by science” not only is a reference to the manner in which our world is continually progressing in terms of technology but also is a referral to the way in which we attempt to use science to bring order and solutions to a world that is complex and lacks certitude. Perowne, the ultimate realist disregards dreams along with the “creation myth” and instead relishes in the precision of his work. He regards surgery as a “feat of technical mastery and concentration”, a “miracle of human ingenuity”. He delights in the repetition of his profession, a feeling that parallels his sex life, in which “it’s familiarity rather that the sexual novelty that excites him.” Perowne openly admits; “ this is what he must have: possession, belonging, repetition.” He is sceptical of the fantasy and escapism of literature, finding it both “faintly depressing” but equally annoyed by the fact that characters do not seem to pursue careers in novels. His lack of interest is evident by his belief that he has seen “enough death, fear, courage and suffering to supply half a dozen literatures. Yet, despite all this, his ability to save lives and his expertise within his field paradoxically make him somewhat of a “God” within the theatre and his elaborate descriptions and passionate excitement towards his work make him an artist of his craft.
“After the late failure of radical hopes” suggests that we are no longer living in an era in which surety is dependable but rather an age in which we find ourselves “baffled and fearful” and disregarding the romantic ideals of the past. McEwan suggests that amidst the chaos and uncertainty we become like Perowne; attempting self-preservation by remaining “thoughtlessly content”, observing catastrophe from a “safe distance”.
However, despite the startlingly and somewhat bleak reality that the prologue addresses, it ends with a slightly more positive thought; that as water has the power to carve out pathways for new life, so can determined efforts amount to change. We may choose to live sheltered, detached lives, to be depressed by the lack of surety and daily destruction or else we may find contentment by living by Theo’s simple philosophy; “You can choose to despair or you can be happy if you dare.”
Thus, in conclusion, the prologue to the novel serves as a precursor to the ideas that are raised in Saturday. We are, through Henry Perowne’s perspective, alerted to a world that is complex and uncertain but equally one in which we can choose to live as we wish. As Henry Perowne says; “Decisions are all.”