"The Woman in White" by Wilkie Collins: Walter Hartright is a fine young Englishman, making his humble way in the world as a drawing instructor. Aside from his mother and sister, Walter's best buddy in the world is Professor Pesca, a friendly Italian fellow short on size but large on loyalty. Pesca, eternally grateful to Walter for once saving his life while swimming, believes he has done a good turn for his pal, securing him a lucrative position with a private family, giving art lessons to two young women. Little could anyone suspect how dramatically Walter's life would be altered because of Pesca's thoughtfulness.
While walking home late at night from his mother's house on the eve of departing for his new job, Walter is startled to encounter a woman along the lonely dirt road to London. Dressed all in white, she made for a lovely specter, albeit a somewhat confused one. She seemed in great distress and asked Walter to direct her to London. Still recovering from the shock of seeing her, Walter thinks nothing beyond trying to assist a lady in need. He gallantly offers to escort her to town. The woman accepts on the condition he only takes her to the nearest cab and lets her go on her way without further inquiry or objection. The time along the journey is spent in polite conversation, with Walter doing his best not to disturb the poor soul any further. She never gives her name, but does let slip with a few interesting details, like her scornful hatred for a certain unnamed Baronet and her equally passionate love for a Mrs Fairlie of Limmeridge House. That last bit is of particular interest to Walter since he is to travel to Limmeridge House the next morning to begin his employment for a Mr. Fairlie. Oh, the intrigue of coincidence.
When they finally do reach a waiting cab, the Woman in White thanks Walter for his help and is quickly whisked away without giving any hint of her eventual destination. Walter believes he'll never see the woman again, considering the whole bizarre experience nothing more than a nifty little adventure. Not long after, another cab overtakes Walter and hails a nearby constable. Walter hears the cab's occupants asking the officer if he had seen a woman wearing a white dress. Apparently, this lovely Woman in White, the same woman Walter had assisted so happily mere moments ago, had just escaped from a mental asylum. Funny, I usually don't find that out until after I date them a few times.
Walter holds his tongue, not telling his tale to the constable or asylum workers, carrying his adventure with the Woman in White to his new position at Limmeridge House. His employer is Mr. Frederick Fairlie, a preposterously pretentious snob who gives sniveling hypochondriacs a bad name. He has hired Walter to teach drawing to his two nieces, Laura Fairlie, a stunningly beautiful blonde full of gentle innocence, and her half-sister Marian Halcombe, a plain, homely brunette who makes up for her lack of outward beauty with extra helpings of intelligence, character, and inner-strength. Their mother and both their fathers are deceased, leaving them in the care of the ridiculous Mr. Fairlie, who keeps bottled up in his bedroom, suffering imagined pains and admiring his various trinkets of wealth. The two sisters are inseparable, with Marian playing the role of both big sister and mother to Laura. Walter's arrival brings a whole new dynamic to their sheltered lives.
Naturally, it isn't long before Walter falls in love with Laura, and they run off and get married and live happily ever after. Well, not so fast, my friend. It seems Laura is already engaged, not out of love but because of a promise she made to her father on his deathbed. Her betrothed is Sir Percival Glyde, who just happens to be a Baronet. Hmm, where have I heard that before? Sure enough, an anonymous letter arrives, warning Laura not to marry Sir Percival. This just happens to coincide with a strange woman in a white dress being seen in the neighborhood. And did I mention that Walter found Laura to bear a striking resemblance to the Woman in White? And that, children, is how a mystery is made.
Last year, 70 proof reviewed Wilkie Collins' "The Moonstone," often considered the first detective novel, and was blown away by its remarkable craftsmanship and unique narrative. "The Woman in White," published in 1860, eight years prior to "The Moonstone," clearly set the groundwork for the later masterpiece. Both works share the same mode of storytelling, with numerous characters taking turns as narrator, each contributing his or her part to a written chronicle of past events. It's a terribly effective device, allowing for instant character development, while keeping the material fresh and casual for the reader. That being said, I think the technique was definitely employed with greater effect in "The Moonstone," where the pacing was positively impeccable. In "The Woman in White," some of the narratives linger too long, and certain aspects of the story get covered twice, particularly in the mystery's unraveling near the end of the book.
And this is a long book, generally clocking in at over 700 pages. I hate reading long books. Impatience is one of my greatest flaws, as both a writer and a reader. It's not that Mr. Collins does anything awful, far from it. In fact, his prose is magnificent, and the deeply intricate plot is handled masterfully. It's just at times I found myself wishing he'd hurry up. That's a sentiment I never experienced with "The Moonstone."
There are certainly plenty of reasons to give "The Woman in White" the highest of recommendations. Like I said, the prose is strong and the plot is brilliant, with layer upon layer of mystery surrounding the Woman in White and the treacherous Sir Percival. The book also contains one of the most memorable villains in literature, the cunningly contemptuous Count Fosco, who serves as Sir Percival's greatest ally and the truth's mortal enemy. Mr. Collins also creates some indelible images, from the Woman in White's first appearance to a hauntingly poignant meeting between Walter and the two sisters at the grave of their mother.
"The Woman in White" is a work of pure entertainment. There's nothing of any importance here beyond the skill of the author. It's almost impossible for a work to receive four shots unless it has some deeper meaning or philosophical content. The exceptions, of course, being when the book is a perfectly flawless example of its form, such as "The Moonstone." While I'm extremely fond of "The Woman in White," it was just a little too slow at times for my taste. Trim 100 pages or so and I might have been more willing to pour a fourth shot. But it's definitely worth checking out if you're in the mood for a long, leisurely read.
RATING: 