“It is a vale whose acquaintance is best made by viewing it from the summit of the hills that surround it…. An unguided ramble into its recesses is apt to engender dissatisfaction with its narrow, torturous, and miry ways.”                      — Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D’Ubervilles

It takes a contrived sort of reasoning to decide to “write up” both The Good Earth and Tess of the D’Ubervilles in the same post. In one sense I had the same recaction to both of them: they were wells of sadness that dwelled deeper than my comprehension; they were filled with strange custoums and assumptions,  many of which I still cannot grasp; they were are also both about nature (in the environmental sense), but in almost completely opposite ways. In Pearl Buck’s book nature is a constant, dependable source of life. In Thomas Hardy’s book nature reflects what is going on inside the different chacters. It is not good or bad, or always the same, it’s as Tess or Angels sees it. Comforting or cold, harsh or heartening – it all depends on what what’s going on inside the character’s mind.

The Good Earth chronicled the life and fortune of one Wang Lung, a poor chinese peasant. It starts with his procuring of a wife from the kitchens of the great house and ends with his death as the wealthy owner of the same. Wang Lung is neither amazingly smart nor touchingly compassionate – he’s just a normal guy. His experiences, most of them bad, repeatedly teach him that land is the most important thing. The most amazing character is probably O-lan, Wang’s first wife, who grew up as a slave until Wang paid her dowry. O-lan does not do much talking, so it’s hard for a reader to feel close to her, but she does an immense amount of work and is a clever housekeeper. The book offers very little to laugh at, but one of the amusing things that does occur comes from the brain of O-lan. When Wang Lung worries that his gangster uncle will eat them out of house and home, O-lan proposes that they drug him with opium, and so that’s what they do. It’s kind of bizarre to imagine opium being used to rid yourself of troublesome relatives.
Anyway, the book is pretty sad, as I hinted above. Wang Lung has a hard life when he’s young, is a bad husband when he gets rich, and has a horrible relationship with his three sons. I enjoyed learning about chinese culture, and the way that Pearl Buck hints at the cyclical nature of wealth was interesting, but after Wang stopped being poor I couldn’t bring myself to care for the characters enough to wonder how the book would end.

                                      Tess of the D’Ubervilles took some strength of will to get through too. At first this was just because of Hardy’s constant jabs at God. They were pretty subtle – or maybe I’m just dense – but nothing could hide his resentment when he made them, so that even though I didn’t pick up on his object right away I could tell he was lambasting someone. And then there was his descriptions of Tess. I hope I’m not so jealous that I can’t stand to read about a pretty girl, but come on. In order to defend her “innocence” Hardy felt the need to bring in proof of her overwhelming beauty every other page (as a side note, Tess’ beauty is the element of fate that should warn you this is a tragedy in the greek sense). This was especially true when she was at the dairy and falling in love with Angel Clare (here high literature meets Buffy and shies away). Don’t even get me started on Angel Clare, actually, don’t get me started on Tess. The former was awful, but the latter was annoying. I didn’t know what to make of her half the time. Sometimes I think I could hardly have made different choices than she did, but then I find myself scoffing at this notion. I’m sure someone else has already said this, but I’m glad that I have read so many sad and depressing novels so that if I’m ever in a bad situation I’ll know exactly what not to do.
As fun as Tess is to complain about, and as painful as the plot was to read, I enjoyed reading most of it. The style was delicious, the scenery was beautiful, and the secondary characters were worth knowing. I particularly liked the dairyman “to whose mind it had apparently never occurred that milk was a good beverage.” What really made the book worth it though was discussing it. I spent two weeks talking about it, and hearing other’s opinions of it, and watching a movie adaptation, and so on. Some interesting things turned up, like the rocks that come to light when you plow I suppose. Like how, despite Hardy’s prejudice against Christianity, Angels parents are both christians and kind, honest people. Or how about how Angel, regardless of his “progressive” and openly “pagan” outlook reacts so negatively to Tess’ admission of the past. These things make you wonder what Hardy was thinking when he wrote this book. Or if he even knew what he was thinking at all. In the end I’d recommend it, but only if you have a group of people to talk it over with.

There, that’s two books down. Now I’m going to enjoy the inch of snow that fell last night, and wallow in the peaceful emptiness of my last week of vacation. I hope you have peace to wallow in too,

Sincerely,
Ms. B.