A former fond acquaintance with The Moonstone assured me that I had nothing to fear from Wilkie Collins as a writer. There were no ominous forebodings involved with picking up this latest instalment in my classics marathon. Although The Woman in White did subvert some of my expectations concerning themes (I had always imagined it to be a ghost story), I was not to be disappointed with its epistolary style. Written in first person from the viewpoints of various different characters, the events of the book are related in such a way as to invoke witness testimonials from a crime. To avoid confusing the reader, the plot is mercifully arranged in chronological order, only switching between the various characters as they become relevant to the events of the narrative. The Woman in White has been hailed as the first ever detective novel, embodying many tropes which would later be adopted in countless other additions to the genre.
First and foremost, the The Woman in White is a sensation novel. Written to shock, excite, and stimulate the nerves, it served as enthralling escapism for the Victorian thrill seeker. As stated by Matthew Sweet in the introduction, ‘[w]ithout the comforting distancing device of an authorial voice - a cool ironist like Jane Austen, a tub-thumping showman like Charles Dickens or an earnest philosopher like Thomas Hardy - readers were excitingly proximate to the sensations suffered by the protagonists.’ Given this intimacy with the characters, one is naturally predisposed to sympathise with their plights. The story begins with Walter Hartright, a poor drawing teacher in London who is employed by Mr Fairlie of Limmeridge House to teach his niece, Laura, and her half-sister, Marian Halcombe. The night before he leaves London for his assignment, Walter is accosted in the dead of night by a strange lady dressed all in white who has escaped from a mental asylum. In Cumberland, Walter falls in love with Laura Fairlie, who is regrettably promised in marriage to a Sir Percival Glyde. Laura receives an anonymous letter warning her against Sir Percival, a letter which is later revealed to have been sent by the mysterious woman in white. Thus the mystery is sprung.
What follows is an intricate web of conspiracy, dramatic tension, infamy, and blackest treachery; all the ingredients of a classic suspense thriller. The plot in itself, although familiar by today’s standards, was unique for the time in which it was written, playing upon society’s fears of false imprisonment and loss of identity. In my opinion, the real strength of the novel lies within its characters. Some truly memorable and eccentric personages litter the pages, including a physically ugly heroine in Marian, hypochondriac ‘invalid’ Mr Fairlie, the evil, abusive baronet, Sir Percival Glyde, and the villainous, morbidly obese Count Fosco who exhibits a penchant for poison, vanilla bon bons and his adored pet mice. The effeminate Mr Fairlie, my favourite character of the novel, provided an abundance of laugh out loud moments with his selfish, whimpering ways and droll indolence. Sir Percival’s accomplice in crime, the sinister Count Fosco, completely steals the limelight as the most outstanding antagonist. As for the ‘hero’ Walter Hartright and his love interest, Laura Fairlie, I found them both rather bland.
Praise for the novel aside, The Woman in White did suffer from a notable slump towards the end. The book worked up magnificently to what I hoped would be a thrilling confrontational climax of revenge, but Collins adopted a more subtle payoff which left me wanting something more rewarding. Now and again the narrative got a tad repetitive and exhaustive in explaining the nature of certain events, with Wilkie insistent on every scrap of evidence being analysed at length by the reader. Clumsy exposition also appears in places; eavesdropping characters listening to private conversation between the villains smacked of pure info dump. People do not generally discuss mutually experienced backstory in real life. Another minor peeve was the very abrupt, seemingly ‘tacked on’ ending, but the less said about that the better. Although dissatisfied with some plot execution and the unimaginative exits of certain characters, my enjoyment of the mystery was not diminished and I heartily recommend it to all those who enjoy a good suspense thriller.
Rating: 4/5
First and foremost, the The Woman in White is a sensation novel. Written to shock, excite, and stimulate the nerves, it served as enthralling escapism for the Victorian thrill seeker. As stated by Matthew Sweet in the introduction, ‘[w]ithout the comforting distancing device of an authorial voice - a cool ironist like Jane Austen, a tub-thumping showman like Charles Dickens or an earnest philosopher like Thomas Hardy - readers were excitingly proximate to the sensations suffered by the protagonists.’ Given this intimacy with the characters, one is naturally predisposed to sympathise with their plights. The story begins with Walter Hartright, a poor drawing teacher in London who is employed by Mr Fairlie of Limmeridge House to teach his niece, Laura, and her half-sister, Marian Halcombe. The night before he leaves London for his assignment, Walter is accosted in the dead of night by a strange lady dressed all in white who has escaped from a mental asylum. In Cumberland, Walter falls in love with Laura Fairlie, who is regrettably promised in marriage to a Sir Percival Glyde. Laura receives an anonymous letter warning her against Sir Percival, a letter which is later revealed to have been sent by the mysterious woman in white. Thus the mystery is sprung.
What follows is an intricate web of conspiracy, dramatic tension, infamy, and blackest treachery; all the ingredients of a classic suspense thriller. The plot in itself, although familiar by today’s standards, was unique for the time in which it was written, playing upon society’s fears of false imprisonment and loss of identity. In my opinion, the real strength of the novel lies within its characters. Some truly memorable and eccentric personages litter the pages, including a physically ugly heroine in Marian, hypochondriac ‘invalid’ Mr Fairlie, the evil, abusive baronet, Sir Percival Glyde, and the villainous, morbidly obese Count Fosco who exhibits a penchant for poison, vanilla bon bons and his adored pet mice. The effeminate Mr Fairlie, my favourite character of the novel, provided an abundance of laugh out loud moments with his selfish, whimpering ways and droll indolence. Sir Percival’s accomplice in crime, the sinister Count Fosco, completely steals the limelight as the most outstanding antagonist. As for the ‘hero’ Walter Hartright and his love interest, Laura Fairlie, I found them both rather bland.
Praise for the novel aside, The Woman in White did suffer from a notable slump towards the end. The book worked up magnificently to what I hoped would be a thrilling confrontational climax of revenge, but Collins adopted a more subtle payoff which left me wanting something more rewarding. Now and again the narrative got a tad repetitive and exhaustive in explaining the nature of certain events, with Wilkie insistent on every scrap of evidence being analysed at length by the reader. Clumsy exposition also appears in places; eavesdropping characters listening to private conversation between the villains smacked of pure info dump. People do not generally discuss mutually experienced backstory in real life. Another minor peeve was the very abrupt, seemingly ‘tacked on’ ending, but the less said about that the better. Although dissatisfied with some plot execution and the unimaginative exits of certain characters, my enjoyment of the mystery was not diminished and I heartily recommend it to all those who enjoy a good suspense thriller.
Rating: 4/5
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